HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
THE FINAL SNIPPETS
July 3, 2186
1456 hours.
Mercenary Temporary Headquarters, Lower Ward, Romulus Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Mercenary Leader Aria T'Loak, Lieutenant Bray, Admiral Jarral, Lieutenant Nakmor Dreg.
Her form leaned over the holographic display, eyes glazing over the information that flowed across the screen. And there was lots of that information, to be sure. Blueprints, army configuration, fleet dispositions, defenses, troop arrangements, key areas, etc. It all flowed across her tiny little screen, and she saw it all. Every tidbit. She needed to.
The MTH was more than a temporary headquarters; it was a base of operations; a staging platform. Every ally she ever had, every single person devoted to her and loyal to her, and even the ones who were infatuated with her (ones she tolerated alot less). She had a perfect force at her disposal, and now that it was nearing completion the time was near.
Soon, she would take back her station. Omega was hers.
She tried to ignore the pain in her gut. The skin there was still raw from the stun batton that had impacted it. Sure, the Cerberus fucktard that had done it was dead and tossed out an airlock, but the pain of the injury he inflicted was still felt. She would get the occassional jolt in her system as well; electricity left behind from the attack. It didn't happen with humans or anyone else, and she knew why; it was all due to the immense amount of eezo content in the asari body. Eezo attracted electricity and channelled it like water did, meaning that tazing any biotic could actually mean their death.
But Aria was a tough bitch, and she didn't let a damn stun batton kill her. Fuck that. Still, her injury did continue to hurt, and she didn't know when it would fully heal. If ever in her lifetime. Maybe it'd be a permanent scar, but as long as the pain dissipated, she would be happy. Can't fight if every time I use my biotics I electricute myself.
She looked up from her screen, examining the holographic form of Omega; it was shaped like a giant mushroom; a massive semi-spherical main body with a 'tail' poking out from below it at the base. The station had once been a mining facility before the krogan Patriarch took over as its leader, followed by Aria moving onto the station and subjugating the station, keeping Patriarch as her pet and example. She had ruled the station, the shithole that it was, for hundreds of years since then. It was her child, her prodigy, her home.
Cerberus, The Illusive Man, had taken it from her. A man by the name of Oleg Petrovsky, a clever cockhead if she had ever heard of one, was the Cerberus general now responsible for holding Omega hostage. He had an entire fleet at his back, and the station garrison was forty thousand strong, the last time she was there. Cerberus was likely to have dug in deep by now; afterall, it had been seven months since she had lost it. They would be heavily entrenched, her people totally under his control. But soon, that would end. She would take back Omega.
The Illusive Man was at the top of her shit list.
She met Jarral's eyes through the hologram, eyes weary and voice mildly angry. Spending all her time in that skanky Purgatory bar was nothing like Afterlife. That club had essence. Purgatory...it was a wannabe try-hard, nothing more. She hated the people, the music, the atmosphere. None of it was like Afterlife. She fucking hated it.
"Run the numbers through me again," Aria growled, cracking her neck as she did, straightening her jacket as she watched Bray shift beside her; the last man she had from Omega that was utterly devoted to her, the last having been Anto; a batarian, she would admit, she sorely missed, even if he had only ever been her bodyguard, "How many ships do we have loyal to us, currently?"
Jarral sighed, her mediocre asari admiral straightening her posture in a vaguely professional stance, although she imagined it was more for show than actual discipline. Asari lacked alot of that. Besides, if you wanted discipline, you went to the damn turians, "Forty at best; most of them are repurposed merchant vessels. Few defenses, not alot of space. Modular conveyors, Kowloon and Ganymede-Class, mostly. A few freighters, cargo haulers, tankers. One or two mercenary ships, but most of them belong to the lesser groups, like Fortitude and the Grim Skulls."
She sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes, "I do believe Shepard gave me the loyalty of every mercenary organization in existence. Care to explain why we don't have any Blue Suns? Eclipse? Blood Pack?"
Bray was quick to but in, "Zaeed Massani has been a hard man to deal with, Aria. Harder so with his commander on the Citadel, Renmark. She's been a thorn in our backside, and so far she's refused every attempt we've made at securing her allegiance. She says her forces are devoted to the UGC and only the UGC."
I'm beginning to hate the fucking UGC. Everything is about the fucking UGC. "Then Eclipse? Blood Pack? At least the Blood Pack. I own Gryll, you know that. That vorcha couldn't tell he was being used even if you told him so."
"As you said, Gryll is easily bought and controlled. But that works twofold," Dreg replied, his gravelly krogan tone comparable to chalk scraping against a chalkboard, "The UGC has him on a tight string as well, and that Admiral Hackett has kept him very busy. As for the Eclipse; Sayn seems to be utterly devoted to Shepard. Says he owes him for getting rid of Sederis. That, and there's the excuse that Eclipse has been kept quite busy recently; evacuating colonies, committing delaying actions, protecting cargo from pirates for C-Sec."
I'm beginning to wander whether getting rid of Sederis was a good idea. She may have been fucking psychotic, but a psycho is easy to control once you know their tendency and channel it. Sayn...you can't channel loyalty. Not unless you're a master manipulator, which I'm most definitely not. No, Aria preferred to leave that to the Illusive Man.
"So it all comes down to the same thing," Aria mumbled, "Shepard, and the fucking UGC."
"It would appear to be so," Bray deadpanned, his four eyes frowning in what had to be a copy of her own anger, "They won't make a move unless it has his name written all over the paperwork. Still, I need those damn mercenary groups. I'm not making a move on Omega until we do."
Jarral shook her head, clearly in disagreement as she braced against the table, "We know Omega better than Petrovsky does; you've had centuries to get to know it. He's only had seven months. Nowhere near enough time to get to know it."
Aria sighed, turning towards her with a sarcastic expression, "Jarral, that's absolutely brilliant, why didn't I think of that before?" she pretended to think before turning back to her, growling dangerously at her fellow asari, "Oh, yet again, that was before half the fucking station became overrun by adjutants. That was before Cerberus had a fleet in orbit. That was fucking before Petrovsky kicked me off the damn station!"
She seemed taken aback by the retort, but Aria honestly couldn't care less. If the moron wanted to play tactically-brilliant-admiral, then let her. But there was no mistaking Petrovsky's ability; the man was a brilliant strategist. The man played war like it was a game of chess; even had his own chessboard. And he always won. He was swift, ruthless, pragmatic, and was a strong student of the Sun Tzu philosophies of warfare. But he wasn't an asshole; even being Cerberus, he refused to risk civilian lives, even going so far as to kill his own second-in-command just to protect the station's residents. He was a good man, but she didn't fucking care; he had her station, and for that, she would fucking kill him. She didn't have the time for moral-high-horses anyway. Assholes think they're so fucking superior.
Petrovsky and Shepard would get on just fine, I bet.
She closed her eyes, clearing her thoughts. She couldn't afford to think like that. Blind rage had gotten her nowhere during the Cerberus attack on her station, and because of it, she had lost her space station to them. And now taking it back would be one of the hardest fights of her life, but when it came to Omega, it was completely worth it. She couldn't wait to watch the Cerberus troops flee in terror as her armies flooded over the station, taking it back, piece by piece. She turned to Dreg, head of her ground divisions, "How about troop numbers? What do we have?"
Nakmor Dreg was a typical krogan; violent, prone to anger, but measured and calculating. He wasn't the kind of guy you pissed off in a hurry, but when he wasn't in a blood rage or angry, he could be pretty damn smart; smarter than Jarral at least, although that wasn't hard. Jarral had the naval experience of a damn alliance cadet in the academy. Dreg however, was far from mediocre. He was a relic; a very old relic, and probably one of the oldest krogan she had ever known; possibly the oldest in existence. He had fought in the final days of the Krogan Rebellions, and remembered the war well. But now his people was cured of the genophage; she had heard the news about it; entirely unsurprised that Shepard had been behind it. Dreg had returned to her a new man, especially for a one thousand, two hundred and eighty-five year old krogan. Dreg was convinced he would die soon, but he seemed to cheat death everyday.
The krogan grumbled, shifting in his ceremonial battle armor. She always snorted at the sight of it; she always forgot how sentimental he was for a krogan. His battle armor was old and frayed and one thousand years out of date. It had obselete kinetic barrier generators that were of krogan make, and the armor itself was a mixture of red and white. On each shoulderplate was a red circle with a three-fingered hand grasping a huge hammer in its grasp, words encircling its edge in ancient krogan writing; the insignia of the Aralakh Empire, all that was left of the once proud, powerful and fearsome imperium. The armor was heavy; state-of-the-art, for the time period it originated from. He had a large war hammer strapped to his back, a stark reminder that Dreg had once been a krogan Battelord; an extremely powerful position for krogan; a rank now non-existent.
"Without the mercenaries, our ground troops are minimal," he stated, shaking his head, "I can muster what I can from my men on Tuchanka and the Citadel, but aside from that, we have a mere handful of troops. Barely enough to hold a garrison; let alone take back an entire space station."
She felt herself gritting her teeth, angered by the sheer insanity of her situation. I promised to bring back an armada. I swore to Petrovsky that the armies and fleets of the Terminus would bear down over Omega and clutter every airlock and every room. He would tremble as our marching shook the floors of the station, and sent his troops fleeing. Instead, I'm going to bring a few pathetic conveyors, some converted tugs, and a few squads of poorly-equipped mercenaries who's only advantages are their loyalty to me and Dreg's command ability and war experience. Petrovsky will laugh as his fleet blows mine out of asteroid field.
"Aria," Bray spoke, gaining her attention. He seemed to be hesitant, as if treading carefully. Then he stopped, looking at her, and she understood. He was waiting for her permission; he rarely waited for her sanction to speak unless it was an opinion in conflict with hers; otherwise, he'd openly agree with her.
"Speak your mind, Bray," she spat, slamming her fist into the holo table, "Tell me just how fucked our possibilities of success are."
"Fucked. Completely. This is a suicide mission. Pure insanity," the batarian stated clearly, shaking his head as he gulped, "Wars have been won against terrible odds, but this is just ridiculous. We're talking about attacking a titan with a go-cart and a group of inexperienced children with the bare minimum of knowledge on how to fire a gun. There is simply no way we can win this."
"Then what do you suggest?" Aria snapped, already feeling as if she wouldn't like his answer.
"That we postpone the invasion," Bray bluntly declared, shifting slightly as he noticed her frown deepen, "Consolidate our forces more strongly. Gather allies. Maybe give Renmark a little push. Make Massani an offer. Try to milk Sayn for some troops, and possibly brainwash Gryll alittle over to our side; buying him shouldn't be too hard, and as a vorcha, he's prone to any trap we put up. That, or we could have him replaced like we did the krogan."
Dreg sighed, nodding, "The batarian speaks wisdom. Even during the Rebellions, Warlord Shiagur knew when to disengage and when to tactically withdraw. She knew which battles to fight, and which were hopeless. Of course, she mostly simplified that with asteroid strikes, but we don't have asteroids, and I'm not sure you're willing to use them on Omega, even if we did. Warlords Moro, Kredak, Jarrod...they all knew when to retreat. Today is one of those days. We need more time."
"The time for a strike is now," Jarral insisted, groaning as she turned towards Dreg, "We cannot wait while Cerberus further solidify their position! We need to strike hard and fas-"
"Whelp, I've been fighting in warfare since before your pathetic form drew breath," Dreg growled, "I have fought the cohorts of the turians, the commandos of the asari, and even the assassins of the salarian League of One; the predecessors of the STG. I've fought fleets, dropped asteroids on worlds, and claimed the skulls of a dozen thresher maws," he was right in Jarral's face, breathing heavily, which caused her to reel back in terror, "Do not question my experience."
"Jarral, you are dismissed," Aria ordered, waving a dismissive hand, "I have had enough of your incompetent, ass-kissing, incapable leadership."
She tried to form words on her mouth, but Aria did not give her a chance, shooting her the deadliest glare in Council space, "Keep this going, and I'll relieve you as admiral, as well."
Jarral, flustered and unable to defy her mistress, simply spun on her heel and left the room, door sliding shut behind her. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily, shaking her head, "You would all have me abandon my quest to take back my station; one that is rightfully mine, not that usurper's."
Dreg shook his head, bracing against the table, his sneer gone, "We are not asking you to abandon Omega altogether, Miss T'Loak. Only that you take more time to strengthen your forces...consolidate them."
"And what of the Reapers?" Aria spoke out, not even thinking about what she said as she addressed everyone in the room, "What if there is nothing left to consolidate? What if the Reapers take Omega before I do? Or the Citadel? What if there isn't any time? I need Omega now. Sooner, rather than later."
"It can't be done," Bray stated firmly, turning until he faced her, all four eyes focused on her own, "Not with what we have."
"Unless you've got someone capable of doing the impossible, then we're empty-handed," Dreg acknowledged in tandem, "No organized force equals us dead and Omega still in Cerberus hands. It'll be no good if we all die during an initial assault."
Dreg's first sentence echoed in her mind. "Unless you've got someone capable of doing the impossible...capable of doing the impossible...A malicious smirk crossed her lips, and she couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. The answer was so simple, yet she had never even considered it. Why would she? That man didn't like her, she knew that much. She was a rotten bitch queen; but a badass one. If anything, she was an asset to him, not a friend. But had she ever thought of bribing him into helping her? That the man himself, all morals and impossible deeds, could be her secret weapon?
"I fail to find what is amusing," Dreg growled, clearly insulted by Aria's lack of seriousness.
She turned to him, her smug smirk still present, "It just occurred to me that I do indeed have someone capable of doing the impossible. Someone who may owe me a favour. He wants me to be fully devoted to his cause, but in order for that, he needs to take back Omega for me," she turned to Bray, "You know who I'm talking about. He's cheated death, and he just cured the genophage. Who's more perfect for the job?"
"Captain Shepard would never help us," Bray replied incredulously.
"You don't know that. That man needs assets. Ships, troops, supplies, all for his war," the asari stated firmly, straightening her jacket again as she began to circle the table, "I can give him that, but only if he cooperates with me. I'll give him all of that, if he leads my force in taking back Omega."
Dreg wasn't pleased by that notion, "I'm not going to let some human of all things take command over my forces. I have the most experience here."
Dreg was a bit cocky, but yet again, so was Aria. She had just learnt that she wasn't invulnerable. Petrovsky had taught her that lesson well. She shot him a look; it wasn't a glare or a stare of shock, just a blank look, followed by a quirked eyebrow, "Pray tell me Dreg, have you heard of Shepard and his deeds? Or must I list them all? The man is a legend. I'm not one for idol worship, and I most certainly won't fucking worship him, but the facts are there. He won the Eden Prime War. He wiped out the Collectors. He took down the Shadow Broker. And now he fought off a Cerberus invasion of the Citadel. Dreg, I'm not taking command from you, I'm merely going to let Shepard share it with you."
Still, there is the problem of him and the Normandy. I don't like his squad either; the turian, that Cerberus bitch, and the quarian? And that asari justicar? No, they'll have to stay behind. I want Shepard and only Shepard. I don't need his squad or his ship, I only need him.
Dreg grumbled; he wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he wasn't disappointed either. It was just vague enough to keep him quiet, but she could tell by his look that he wasn't happy. She shook her head, turning to Bray, "I want you to get in contact with Shepard. Send him a message; Hackett provided me with his channel code incase contact was needed."
Bray gave a solemn nod, bringing up his omni-tool as he typed a message and sent it. Thanks to the wonders of galaxy-wide comm buoys, communication was instantaneous. So as fast as Bray sent the message, he got a reply. Still, she had a feeling it wasn't one she would like; the batarian was frowning.
"What is it?" Aria asked, growling, clenching her fists, "Did he say no?" You owe me Shepard. I need you to lead that force.
"The ship's AI simply said he was busy intercepting a distress call from a quarian envoy vessel and wasn't available," Bray stated, turning back to her as he deactivated his omni-tool, "Said it was urgent. A matter of 'significant importance.' Said he likely wouldn't be available for the majority of the day."
Aria sighed, shaking her head. You can't run away forever, Shepard. One day, you'll come back to the Citadel, and I will force you to lead my fleet. She nodded to him, "Very well; we'll do it your way then, Dreg," she shot the krogan a look, "Until Shepard is made available, we'll consolidate our forces. Besides, if we're lucky, Shepard will provide us with more resources from the UGC, depending on how dedicated he will be to this."
"A wise decision," Dreg conceded, running a hand along his battle-scarred crest, "That should give us some time to organize our troops and ships while you...wait for Shepard to arrive."
She nodded, moving towards the door, "Very well, all of you are dismissed until further notice. You know where to find me." She didn't even wait for an answer as she moved through the door and down the corridor towards the stairs, door shutting behind her. She felt a new sense of smug confidence grow in her gut, a feeling better than any ecstasy or red sand drug. It fueled her with further desire; a desire to kill, to maim, to destroy. She had a promise to keep to Petrovsky, and she would fullfill it.
The collective might of the Terminus Systems would bear down on and retake Omega. That was a promise.
{Loading...}
June 28, 2186
1205 hours.
Apartment 221, Housing District, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War.
C-Sec Investigator Kolyat Krios, Nurse Lia'Vael nar Ulnay.
Their apartment wasn't really anything special, per se. A matter of fact, it was quite sparse; not spartan by any stretch of the imagination, but quite the utilitarianistic hideaway. That was mostly thanks to Lia, though, being the selfless person that she was, but for the most part, he didn't really disagree with it. They didn't need anything special; just somewhere to live. That was it.
As was the norm with Citadel apartments, they were quite small; no bigger than the standard room with a few luxurious polishes and a few cubicles added on. A modest couch sat in the middle, with a large flatscreen on the wall. A basic toilet and shower occupied one cubicle, another the bedroom with a narrow bed, although Lia mostly slept on the couch anyway, so it didn't really matter. There was a basic kitchen at the back where the main door was, and a few terminals in one room. Overall, like he said, not spartan, but very utilitarian.
He sighed as he unstrapped his carnifex heavy pistol, dumping it on the table beside the door, followed by his kinetic barrier generator and the magnetic clamp for his gun. He removed his coat and hung it on the rack beside it and covered up a yawn; one followed by a light cough; a side effect of his Kepral's Syndrome. It was nowhere near as bad as his father's; wouldn't be for at least another decade. But it was there; a constant reminder that he would never fullfill his full lifespan. Made him wish he had been born in an arid climate so his lungs would have developed properly. But he played the cards he was dealt.
The vidscreen was on, an episode of the popular turian show called 'Shatha Hunters' was playing; a repeat, given that the area it was filmed in was currently under Reaper attack: Taetrus. He could see Lia sitting on the couch, hands folded in her lap as she watched it, and he smiled, cracking his neck. He did the same with his knuckles, feeling a day's worth of work dissipate from his body like the flow of water. It was relaxing.
Then his eyes landed on the picture on the table, and his smile dropped.
It was taken on Earth. There was Thane, his father, smiling up at the camera with one arm hooked around Kolyat's shoulders, pulling him close as the drell smiled back.
The wounds were still fresh, and he had to tear his eyes away from the picture to regain his composure. Almost a week had passed since his father's death during the Citadel Siege, and he was still having problems sleeping. Lia knew he was in pain, but she never brought it up, afraid that he would become upset, whether at himself, or at her, he didn't know, but he did know those were the reasons. She had said so.
He had promised not to let Thane's death drag him down, but everytime he saw a picture of him, he either got sad, angry or blank. It was a confusing range of emotions; quite random to the odd bystander, but to anyone who knew Kolyat, they'd understand. They knew what he was going through, but all they could offer was words of reassurance; that it would all get better. Kolyat knew they were lying through their teeth, and had since stopped seeing psychologists. They were no help at all.
He put thoughts of his father on the backburner as he moved over to the sofa, using his natural drell skills of stealth to sneak up on his unionmate. He was still ecstatic at it all; he had asked her to become his sihaa, and she had agreed! She wanted to be his wife! They were going to get married! The excitement of it all, the sheer shock, almost sent him over the edge, the drell totally unable to comprehend that the day had come. He had imagined himself settling down with a drell girl. Never did he imagine he would find peace in the arms of a quarian. But Lia...she was special. He knew that the moment he had first met her.
His hands shot down, grabbing onto the quarian's shoulders. She yelped in surprise, losing control of her omni-tool as the vidscreen suddenly flicked through a dozen channels at once before she finally gained control of it and switched the screen off. Kolyat, meanwhile, could only chuckle in his raspy, croaky tones, unable to contain himself.
Lia twisted on the couch to face him, eyes narrowed as she held a hand over her chest, trying to calm her breathing, "Y-you-you bosh'tet! You nearly gave me a-a-a-"
"A heart...attack?" he managed through his laughter, beginning to calm himself. Lia's reaction had been priceless.
"That!" she replied, shaking her head as she crossed her arms, "And you think it was funny! It most certainly wasn't!"
"Not even alittle?" he asked, able to stand as he moved to join her on the couch. He plopped down into it, letting himself sink into its confines, "Not even an iota?"
She huffed, shaking her head, "Not even an iota. You're such a bosh'tet, Kolyat. You shouldn't...scare me like that."
"I don't know," he pondered, grinning as he turned to face her, "I thought your reaction was pretty cute."
Even with her mask on, Kolyat was adept at being able to read body language. It was a valuable trait his father had taught him. It was the reason he was able to tell she was blushing behind that mask. Sometimes I wander what she looks like...he abandoned that selfish thought as soon as it entered his mind.
"I-I am not cute," she insisted, sinking back further, refusing to look at him, remaining utterly stubborn, "And flattering me won't save you."
"Oh yes you are," he replied, grin lessening, "You are beautiful, siha. You are wonderful, lovable, and you are mine. And so what if you're cute? You only have to be cute for me, Lia," he grinned, leaning closer with a bare whisper, "It'll be our little secret, I promise."
He noticed Lia relent, her posture slackening alittle. She turned her head slightly to face him, the glowing beacons she had for eyes shifting to face him. Finally, her arms fell limp, a loud sigh escaping her vocalizer, "Fine, Kolyat. You're forgiven, if only for your flattery."
He chuckled, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on her hood, before pulling back, "My flattery, above all else, is my greatest weapon, Miss Vael," his grin lessened again, but then grew anew as he nudged her, "But it could be Mrs Krios, soon."
The quarian snorted, shaking her head, "Always thinking of the future, aren't we? Keelah, you're like my father. Always talking about tomorrow, of taking the homeworld back."
His grin totally died at this point, the mere mention of Lia's father enough to turn his thoughts back to Thane. Who was dead. At Cerberus' hands. He had attended his funeral many days ago, and watched as his ashes was spread across the Enkindler's Expanse; the deepest ocean and the most vast on all of Kahje. They had only managed to do so when the Reapers lifted their siege in response to an allied fleet presence in the area. It had been a good thing to do it when they did too; the Reapers had attacked a day later, beginning the siege anew.
Lia noticed his sudden shift in mood, and was immediately able to discover what it was. She reached out, grabbing his hands sympathetically, squeezing them affectionately, "Keelah, I didn't think, Kolyat. I'm so sorry. I know how hard this must be-"
He sunk back, an arm open and inviting her to cuddle up to him. She did just that, forgetting her bluster as she rested her head on his shoulder, pressing up tight against him. There was silence for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, but they knew the topic that needed to be addressed.
Finally, Kolyat broke the silence, clearing his throat, "Its not your fault, Lia. I'm just...I'm finding it very hard to move on. To leave my father behind. I know I need to move on, but its been harder than I thought it would be. I knew he'd always be with me, but I never thought it would be like this..."
She shifted her head to look up at him, one free hand holding onto his shirt, "Moving on was never going to be easy, Kolyat. You can't just blink and forget your father died; he died, and you have to accept that. I know deep down you loved him, but you can't let him hold you down. He'd want you to have a life; not dwell on the passing of his."
He sighed, rubbing his temples, "But how, Lia? Everywhere I go, I see him. Everywhere I go, I hear him. Everywhere I go, he's there waiting, haunting me. Like a failure of mine. And I know it wasn't my fault he died, there was nothing I could have done, but why is he always there? Why can't I seem to let go?"
She stayed quiet, unsure on how to respond. It was slow, difficult. She really had to think about it, and all the while, her mate was hurting; his thoughts trapped on his deceased father, unable to take his thoughts elsewhere. It hurt her that he was in that state, that he could find no escape from it. And she was just sitting here, saying nothing.
In the end, she realized, there really was no proper way to answer that question. What would she say? The same thing his psychologists droned to him on a daily basis? That he needed to move on? That was all well and good, but how would he do that? How do you make someone move on from the death of someone they had only just reconnected with, who they loved more than they cared to admit?
By taking their thoughts elsewhere. Sometimes, to make one forget the death of one loved one, you had to make them focus on the present. On the loved ones still there, still with them. Both of Kolyat's parents were dead now, and she doubted the hanar saw him being anything else other than an assassin ready for training. So that left her. Lia'Vael nar Ulnay, soon to be Lia'Krios nar Ulnay, his quarian girlfriend. His lover.
And she knew the perfect way to distract him, but just the thought of it made her shiver; with an iota of excitement, but much more nervousness. Lia was a pilgrim, which meant she hadn't had much sexual experience in the past. Quarians weren't like other species; they couldn't enjoy the pleasures other species enjoyed such as what they called 'quickies' or 'one night stands.' Sexual intercourse for quarians took preparation, sterilization and a clean room. But there was cases of quarians making love out of clean rooms; it took alot of antibiotics and herbal supplements, but it worked.
And right now, she had enough antibiotics and herbal supplements in her pocket to last a whole night.
She didn't know whether to tell him. She had had them for a while, waiting for the perfect moment to use them. A long day and when they were relaxing in bed? After a luxurious date? Maybe after work? She had never found the courage however; she was too nervous, too scared of what the outcome would be. And as much as the prospect of sex intrigued the quarian, she didn't have the bravery to actually do anything about her urges. And now just seemed like the perfect time.
She knew Kolyat wanted to see her face; he was her boyfriend. Even if her boyfriend had been another quarian, the reaction probably would have been the same. It was natural for him to want to see her under the mask, and she wanted to; she trusted him that much. He had protected her from street thugs with his father's skills; kept her safe and even had to abuse his C-Sec authority once or twice.
And now he needed her. He might know it, but he needed her, now more than ever, and she knew just how to distract him. And despite her fear, she knew she had to fight through it to save him from the torment of melancholy. It would only serve to continue to tear him apart. And she loved him too much to see him do that to herself.
So, with some subtlety, she brought up her omni-tool, accessing her suit's systems and injected the antibiotics into her body, as well as her herbal supplements; she would be safe for the whole night. She'd get very sick, but nothing catastrophic or life threatening. But for Kolyat...she remembered Tali'Zorah-no, Tali'Shepard, using a certain sentence on the Normandy in regards to Shepard.
It would be totally worth it.
She shifted, three-fingered hand drifting up to his chin and turning him to face her as she sat up fully, facing him with a serious expression. He frowned, surprised by her sudden movement, but shut up when a gloved finger landed on his lips.
"Sssshhhh..." she whispered, letting her finger fall from his lips when she realized he wasn't talking anymore. She noticed him gulp, his adam's apple ever so slightly giving away the movement. She gulped herself, taking a deep breath as she continued, trying to ignore her flustered attitude, "Kolyat, you...you know I love you, right?"
He looked confused for a moment, but slowly nodded, "Of course, Lia. As I love you."
She felt her face heat up as she grabbed his hands, "And you...you w-w-want to se-see my...my face, don't you?"
This time she noticed Kolyat shift slightly, looking completely taken aback by the question, "I...you know I do. Lia, what's going on? Is everything alright?"
She smiled behind her mask, but he wouldn't be able to see it. That'll soon change. Even in the moment, he was concerned about her, but his words were enough to prove what she already knew in her heart: Kolyat wanted to see her face, and he loved her. What more reason did she need?
"You..." she began, but stopped herself, trying to think of a better way to start. It didn't take her long to find it, the quarian shifting ever so slightly closer to him, moving until their legs were touching, "...Kolyat, forget about tonight. Don't worry about anything else. Just concentrate on me. Tonight," she reached her hands up to the clasps holding her mask in place, her hands shaking, but she willed them on. She noticed Kolyat's eyes widen, but it was too late for him to stop her, "...you are mine."
There was a hiss of locks being released, and Kolyat could only watch as she slowly pulled her mask away, laying it gentlely on her lap. She looked up, meeting his eyes, a bluish tinge to her cheeks as she watched on in embarassment.
She saw him studying her; her face, her eyes, her...hair. Quarians, like humans, had hair, but only two types of hair existed for them; silvery and black. Hers was silvery, a lighter shade of it than some females of her race, but she liked to think it was attractive. She rarely cut it, so it was very long; last she checked before leaving the Fleet, it reached down to her chest. She had smooth cheeks like most quarians, with pale grey skin due to living in suits, and piercing, glowing eyes. She had a small nose and plump lips, along with what humans called 'elf-like' ears, whatever that meant.
His hesitation made her think he found her unattractive, but in that one moment before she could even move for her mask, his hand reached up and cupped her cheek, his cool, scaly skin brushing against her delicate grey skin and she had to close her eyes and moan in response to the touch. Keelah...his hand...his warmth, I...oh keelah, its wonderful...
"Lia, I...I don't know what to say," he spoke up, tripping over his own words as he examined the girl before him; no, the woman, before him. Yes, she was definitely a woman, "You're beautiful, siha. Just as I knew you would be."
She grinned, reaching up and pulling down her hood, allowing her silver hair to fall out onto her shoulders, humming in delight as cold air rushed against her cheeks and assaulted her senses all at once; smell, touch, sight...they were all experiences she had felt in the suit, but never on this scale. It was overwhelming. Pure bliss. Euphoria.
Instantly, Kolyat twisted forward and his hand left her cheek, instead stroking her head as she felt his fingers glide through her silky hair. The sensations running through her head were sending her crazy, but she could only close her eyes and hum, cooing in delight.
But then the hand was gone. The sensations stopped, and only air tickled her skin. She frowned, opening her eyes to meet Kolyat's, which were suddenly filled with concern.
"Are you sure about this?" He blurted out, still frowning, "I mean...you could get sick...doing this was extremely risky, Lia. I can't believe you woul-"
Again, a finger landed on his lips, silencing him as she glared at him, "Do you think I am a fool, Kolyat? I took precautions; my body is swimming with antibiotics and herbal supplements. I will get sick, but I won't die. Please Kolyat, do not focus on such things," she reached up, her hands cradling his face as she leaned in, leaning her forehead against his. She wanted to moan at the feeling, her body still getting used to it, but managed to contain it for his sake, "Just...let me enjoy this. Let us enjoy this. Focus on nothing but me."
He nodded, sighing, "I'm sorry, I'm just-"
"-concerned?" she replied, nodding, biting the bottom of her lip in anticipation, "I know, and so was I. But now I don't care. You're worth it, Kolyat."
He went silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. But then he realized only one thing; he wanted to know what she tasted like. He breathed, meeting her eyes as he gulped, "Do...do you mind if I...can I kiss you?"
She giggled despite herself, shaking her head as she stroked his cheek, "I have my mask off, and you're asking to kiss me? Kolyat, what did I say about focusing on me tonight?"
"I-" Kolyat began, but she never gave him the chance.
Rolling her eyes, she then closed them and slowly moved in, feeling her lips brush against his. It was velvety; a soft, but rough feeling. They continued to brush lips, their eyes closed as their mouths hung open nervously, taunting the other into action.
Kolyat must have lost patience because the second before he lunged forward, his hand gentlely cradled her cheek and pulled her in. His green lips crashed against hers, locking together in perfect harmony with his large lips encompassing hers. She moaned softly into the kiss, feeling his scent fill her nostrils, as hers filled his. He moaned in response, enjoying the tender locking of mouths.
Their heads cocked to give each other room, lips never parting as their kiss intensified; it had started as a gentle, tender feeling, full of love, but it eventually began to increase in vervor, becoming more heated, passionate, lustful. Lia was lost in a whole new world of pleasure and sensation, and Kolyat was sharing his first kiss, as she was. It was perfect.
She barely noticed as he lifted her up and pulled her into his lap, her legs straddling him as her hands latched onto his shoulders subconsciously, holding onto them tightly. She pushed her face more intensely into his, refusing to part from him. The taste of him, the smell, the feeling...it was absolute heaven. The ancestors had surely blessed her.
After a few minutes, they finally parted, both of them breathing heavily as they desperately tried to suck in breath. But they both had lopsided grins on their faces, absolutely content with each other. For both of them, it had been their first kiss, but both of them felt differently about it.
"Amishu dalara ka'lata peshta, Lia," Kolyat exclaimed, chest rising and falling in long bursts, "You're...amazing."
She grinned back, curling a strand of silver hair behind one ear as she continued to hold onto his shoulders, "So...so are you. I..." Want more. I want so much more. I want to feel you against me; your lips, your skin, your...your...
I want you inside me, Kolyat. I want to make love to you.
Those thoughts perturbed her, but she couldn't deny their truth. She felt truly ready to share herself with him.
"Kolyat," she gulped, giving him a quick peck on the lips as she leaned her forehead back against his, "I...help me out of my suit. I'm yours tonight, and you are mine. Just focus on me. Just focus on me."
"With pleasure," he grinned, but looked slightly confused when he just stared blankly at her suit. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back up at her, looking bashful, "Uh...where do I start?"
She smiled, and despite how nervous she was, she was able to respond fluently, "The man seals are on my back. Start there. I want to be free tonight. With you," she whispered in his ear, "Focus on me. Just focus on me..."
And he did. Oh keelah, he did. For the rest of the night, only the sounds of two lovers joined together, their moans carrying through the night.
It was one passionate moment in the middle of a galaxy on fire.
{Loading...}
June 29, 2186
1408 hours.
Parking Lot, Docking Bay D24, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian.
Even as he approached, his turian comrade was already lifting himself into a standing position, uncrossing his arms. The damn turian was still wearing his combat armor; something Garrus seemed insistent on never taking off unless it was an important, formal occassion. The turian nodded to him as Marcus made his final approach, nodding to the C-Sec officer in charge of the security checkpoint as he went past.
"Marcus, glad you could make it," he greeted, a long grin creasing his mandibles. It was then that Marcus noticed the two sniper rifles standing up against the skycar nearby; one being Garrus' Reaper sniper rifle, one he had had since the days of the Eden Prime War, and the other being a standard issue Mantis sniper rifle.
Marcus didn't like the look of the turian's smirk, but he chose to play along, crossing his arms across his chest as he narrowed his eyes, "Garrus, just what is this meeting about? I get the feeling you didn't invite me up here just to admire your...avid collection of sniper rifles."
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head as he crossed his own arms, leaning back against his skycar as his grin grew; as if that were even dimensionally possible. He jabbed a thumb at the rifles, a low chuckle escaping his mandibles, "Oh no. These are for what we're going to do. A little challenge. I thought we'd do something that didn't involve fighting Reapers or Cerberus," he reached down and picked up his rifle, grinning like a lovestruck child as he let the weapon collapse onto his back, "Instead of the bar, I wanted it to be something I'd remember."
He frowned, still eying the turian cautiously, "So?"
"So..." he trailed off, turning to pick up the Mantis and quickly threw it towards the spectre. He grabbed it out of the air, taken aback by the sudden attack. He grabbed it easily enough however, snatching it from the air with professionalism as he held it in a lower parry. Sniper rifles were something Marcus had never really specialized in; he preferred getting up close and personal with the enemy, whereas sniper rifles required him to sit on his ass and wait for the enemy to come into range so he could shoot them. As such, he wasn't very experienced. Sure, in N7, all recruits specialized in all weapons, and so had he. But he hadn't used a sniper rifle since then; the only exception being Jenkins' Punisher three years ago.
The turian just continued up to his skycar, keying his omni-tool to open the door. Splitting open with a welcoming hiss, his turian brother turned to him, still grinning, motioning towards the motionless vehicle, "Get in, Marcus. Time to do something we're going to remember."
He sighed, shaking his head as a ghost of a smile formed on his own lips. He had to admit, there was a tinge of amusement to be found in Garrus' vagueness. It also peaked his curiosity enough for him to follow the turian into the vehicle, Garrus taking the driver's seat; which he swore was another jab at Marcus' poor driving skills. He had to roll his eyes at that. If they knew how hard that piece of shit was to drive, they'd be more sympathetic. Maybe someday he would; they did have one now, afterall. And I'm jumping for joy. Truly.
The skycar gave a loud thrum as its engine core spun up, building up enough energy for it to lift off, spin and shoot out into the Presidium traffic. They rapidly closed in on the lines of cars speeding by and joined them, ordinary skycar going unnoticed amongst the horde of vehicles of similiar types and weight. Noone knew of the occupants and who they were.
Marcus let the rifle stand up and held it between his thighs, drumming his fingers on the side of the door as he turned to Garrus with a raised eyebrow, still not quite knowing what they were up to. It involved sniper rifles, that much was obvious.
"So where exactly are we going?" he interrogated, propping his head up on his arm as he turned to face the turian fully.
"Somewhere we're not supposed to," he thrummed with amusement, the turian looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
Marcus couldn't help his loud chuckle, shaking his head, "Sounds like a recurring theme with us."
The turian nodded agreement, switching lanes as they continued past C-Sec headquarters, "Ever get that feeling where you wanted to do something but you never got the chance to?" he asked, and Marcus gave a nod, with a slight frown. The turian grinned, increasing their speed slightly, "I've had that feeling for awhile, and now I have a chance to amend that."
"You're being very vague, Garrus," he complained, trying not to sound whiny, "Honestly, what are we even doing?"
He nodded, but he didn't turn around, and his smirk dropped slightly, "I remember back in C-Sec that I'd look up at the Presidium sky bridges and wonder," he laughed, shaking his head, "I want to go up there. Unfortunately, there was too many C-Sec regulations telling me I couldn't. Safety laws, Anti-Suicide regulation, Counter-Terrorism protocols...today, I'm going to go up there."
Marcus smirked in response, nodding, "I don't see where sniper rifles factor into that, but okay then. I guess you got those C-Sec regulations changed?"
"Nope," the skycar began to ascend, heading towards one of the sky bridges connecting both sides of the Presidium, workers fixing bulkheads down below, "Now I just don't give a damn."
They came down right ontop of the bridge, skycar landing gentlely upon its prestine, sterile-white surface. Almost immediately, doors on both sides shot open, and Marcus took the preoffered rifle and stepped out into the Citadel's artificial sun, its non-existent UV rays beaming down on his skin and reflecting off the rifle in his grip. Garrus came out on the other side, wielding his much more modded Reaper rifle, grinning like a kid who just graduated as he moved towards the edge, motioning for Marcus to follow. He did so eagerly.
Normally, wind would be whipping at his face when he was this high in the air. But given that the Citadel was a space station, they couldn't really simulate believable air currents. So instead he moved through the air without resistance, joining Garrus at the side of the bridge, looking down at the 200 foot drop.
"Figured its time to do something stupid just for the hell of it," the turian squared his shoulders, looking down over the edge almost nervously before tearing his gaze away, "Might be the last chance we get. Still, its busier than I imagined. Funny how everything gets back to normal after just a week. You'd think we'd be down for a bit longer."
"The world just keeps spinning," Marcus quoted, then shook his head, "Galaxy. Whatever."
Trying to divert attention from his screw up, and whilst trying to find out Garrus' intentions, he motioned to the lake below, smirking, "Why don't we take a dunk in the lake?"
The turian seemed to visibly recoil at that, taking an anxious step backwards, "I'll a...I'll pass. Turians...we don't swim; mostly because Palaven doesn't have any large bodies of water we need to cross to reach another continent. Turian swimming isn't very elegant...involves alot of drowning and flailing arms."
He nodded, turning away as they moved away from the edge, more for Garrus' sake than his, "True; besides, I'd just have to jump in and save your ass, and I don't want to get my clothes wet. Take too long to get dry."
"It'd make up for all the times I pulled your ass out of the fire at least," he retorted, never missing a beat as he began to move towards his skycar, reaching inside to grab something, "The Citadel, Feros, Noveria, Virmire, Ilos...we've had a hell of a ride."
Marcus nodded solemnly, his grin gone as he leaned one hip, "Its times like these that you realize who your real friends are. The ones who stand by your side and fight through every battle, thicker and bloodier. They don't cower and run; they don't turn and run the other way when you need help. What you did for me at Project Base, what I did for you on Menae...I'd do that again, Garrus. No Shepard without Vakarian."
The only response he got was a chuckle, followed by a grunt. The turian appeared again, holding a crate of discarded bottles in his arms as he moved over to the spectre. Marcus frowned at the odd choice; all the bottles were empty, their labels torn off. What they were for, he didn't have a clue. Still, he found them quickly thrusted into his arms, the turian grinning, "You're not going to propose to me now, are you? I doubt Tali would appreciate that at all. Polygamy, and all that."
Marcus chuckled, and Garrus joined him. When they were done, the turian awkwardly cleared his throat, motioning to an area in the middle of the bridge, "Why don't you go place those over there."
"Sniper rifles and now bottles?" he raised an eyebrow again, "Is this in anyway questionable by your standards?"
"I've got something to settle with you, so yes," they moved over to designated area, Garrus' sniper rifle collapsing into his hands, "Once and for all. We're going to find out who's the best sniper."
"Picking on the rookies are we?" Marcus asked, retrieving his sniper rifle after placing down the crate, "How low of you, Vakarian."
"Don't play the oblivious victim," Garrus remarked, "You've got sniper rifle skills, you just don't use them."
"Yes," he dryly began, checking the scope of his own to find it was in tip-top shape, "Because I prefer not to hideaway from the enemy when I fight them."
"That was low, Marcus, even for you," he replied curtly, holding his rifle in one hand as he picked up a bottle, twisting it in his grip as he turned to Marcus, tossing it to him. Mimicking his stance, he reached out with one hand to grab it, frowning at it.
Garrus apparently picked up on his confusion, motioning to the traffic, "Real targets. Let's see who can hit the most bottles."
"I can see the headlines now," he remarked, rolling his eyes as he prepared to throw the bottle over the edge. His cybernetics flexed, ready to bring his strength into motion, "Garrus Vakarian, King of the Bottle Shooters. Mercy be upon those bottles who decide to revolt. They'd be overwhelmed by your heroism and sheer skill."
The turian didn't even reply this time, shouldering his rifle with a grumble, "Just throw the damn bottle, bosh'tet."
Marcus almost laughed at that particular snarky comment, shaking his head as he turned around and tossed the bottle, watching it acellerate to incredible speeds as it flew out into the traffic. A few seconds later, the boom of a sniper rifle echoed through the space followed by a loud cheer from the turian, "Score one!"
He rolled his eyes, moving over to pick up a bottle and toss it at the turian, who caught it just as effortlessly as he did. He turned around, shouldering his own rifle as he took deep breaths, trying to hone whatever skill he had with the bulky weapon into motion. He inhaled, and exhaled before nodding, "Throw the bottle."
His turian friend was quick to oblige, and Marcus moved his eyes to look down the scope, taking deep breaths to steady his aim. He watched the bottle enter his crosshair vision, tumbling and spinning through the air haphazardly with rapid abandon, and before he knew it, it began to descend. If he didn't act soon, it would disappear. His finger tightened, he tensed, and he pulled the trigger.
The bottle burst, and his shot echoed through the Presidium.
Grinning, he lowered his rifle, but barely got to turn around and open his mouth before Garrus spoke teasingly, "Not bad, but no points for easy shots. That was a practice shot. Trying to see how you were; you've done well enough...for a rookie."
"Whatever floats your boat Garrus," Marcus snarkily retorted, picking up a bottle as he flexed his cybernetics again. This time it would give the turian a real run for his money, "Ready for round two?"
Garrus steadied the rifle against his shoulder professionally, eyes already downrange, "I was ready ages ago. Are you done yapping?"
He simply shook his head, not bothering to reply as he dropped his rifle and turned, making a run up sprint before he hurled the bottle through the air as fast, and as hard, as he could. The bottle shot through the air at insane speed, travelling at least a full 29 meters almost instantly. The turian took his time, rifle scope no doubt closing in for the kill.
A bang, and the turian smugly lowered his rifle, barrel smoking, giving a mock salute in Marcus' direction as he moved to pick up a bottle, "Took it out at three hundred meters while descending fast. Try and beat that one, Marcus."
He examined the turian, watching as he braced to throw the bottle. They had been friends for three years, and through that, the turian, just like Tali, had been with him all the way through. When Liara couldn't, when Wrex couldn't, they were there, by his side. Without hesitation, Garrus had joined him, even if he had been working with Cerberus. It was that kind of friendship he treasured...that brotherhood.
Which was why he would miss this shot.
For Garrus. He would let the turian have his moment.
The turian threw the bottle and without even looking, Marcus fired, his shot just missing the tip of the bottle as it flung away to crash into the lake below, his shot likely pinging against some distant structure. Luckily, they were concussive rounds, so if anyone got hurt, they wouldn't be severely hurt. Marcus sighed, pretending to be irritated by the loss as his weapon fell limply at his side.
Garrus however just whistled, holstering his rifle as he cheered, turning to Marcus with an exceptionally large smirk, "I am Garrus Vakarian," he held his hands out wide, walking up to the edge as he puffed his chest out, almost shouting, "And this is now my favourite spot on the Citadel!"
"It was...ah...the traffic...it distracted me," he justified, rubbing the back of his neck as he handed his rifle back to Garrus, inwardly smirking. Smug bastard.
"I'm going to erect a monument here in my honor. The man who defeated the legendary Captain Shepard," the turian persisted, holstering the Mantis on his back as he retrieved the crate of bottles; which they had barely emptied before Marcus' demise. Together, they began to move back towards the skycar, hoping to make a quick escape before C-Sec turned up and demanded to know why they were shooting bottles ontop of a sky bridge.
"I say again, I feel sorry for those bottles," Marcus deadpanned, lowering his body as he sat down in the front seat, Garrus opening the back to place the bottles down, along with both of their rifles, "Any chance they have of rebellion is gone now."
"You're just a sore loser," the turian remarked in response, closing the back door before sitting down in the driver's seat, keying the engines, "Can't admit that Garrus Vakarian bested you at sniping."
"I'll admit," the spectre began in reply, "I was totally awestruck by your skill to blow bottles out of the sky. Some daredevil stuff; true bravery right there."
"Laugh it up Marcus," the turian retorted dryly, easing the skycar off the sky bridge roof and back down into the traffic below, "Still, I think I need a drink. Want to come with me to Purgatory? Get a couple of beers?"
"Damn it turian, you have no imagination," he spat playfully, opening the window to let the wind whip against his face; mostly simulated by the car's momentum, "Beers? I'd rather have whiskey."
"Is that a yes?" Garrus asked, raising an eyebrow, "Its been awhile since we actually got to sit down and just talk. You look like you could use it. Besides, Normandy gets cleared tomorrow, and I heard that Hackett wants us to run a patrol in the Kepler Verge Cluster; something about increased Cerberus activity."
"Why not," he shrugged, sighing, "Would be nice. You know, take my thoughts off the war for abit."
Little did Garrus know, but Marcus' thoughts were on Tali. With his next goal being to unite the quarians and the geth, he needed to go to Rannoch and communicate with Legion. But where was the Migrant Fleet? An entire month had gone by, and still no word from Tali or the Flotilla. It was starting to worry about him, and he worried about the true fate of his wife and her people.
His mission was to find her. He was going to find out where the Migrant Fleet was.
He just hoped he was ready to find a body. Because if he wasn't, he probably wouldn't be of any use to anyone.
Noone is when they're dead, right?
{Loading...}
July 3, 2186
1544 hours.
The Shepards' Quarters, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In Orbit over Karumto, Yakawa System, Caleston Rift Cluster.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor.
"6F to 7G," Samantha smugly ordered, sitting back as she crossed her arms, shifting to make herself more comfortable on the sofa. She gentlely reached forward and picked up her glass of water, taking a modest sip as she narrowed her eyes, watching Marcus' movement.
Which at the moment, was non-existent. He was hunched over the chess board, its blue glow illuminating his face and reflecting off his eyes as he scanned the board, tight-lipped. Samantha had just taken out his last bishop with a pawn of all things, which left his king totally in the open, and his queen the only one capable of protecting him. But it also meant he would have to sacrifice it, which meant losing his most valuable unit.
His hands were clasped tightly infront of him, calculating his next move carefully.
They had spent the past four days running a goose chase and cleanup operation much like what had happened during the month after the Battle of the Citadel; instead of cleaning up geth, they were harassing Cerberus operations in the sector, which weren't as subtle as they could have been. He was annoyed about the assignment, given that he had just spent the past two weeks changing history and saving the Citadel, and now him and his crew were demoted to simple cleanup duty.
Hackett had explained it had something to do with an ambush; apparently an Alliance Sixth Fleet light cruiser had gone missing in the area, the SSV Yellowstone, and the admiralty was convinced it was the Deliverance. Joker had a bone to pick with that ship, and Marcus couldn't really argue the point, as there was nothing to do at that present moment except wait for the quarians to pop up, so they had gone to the Kepler Verge cluster to investigate.
Turned out it wasn't the Deliverance, but it had been a Cerberus warship of some kind; its weight was that of a frigate, but it had firepower far beyond that. And they had practically chased them across the cluster, through the Phoenix Massing Nebula, and finally into the Caleston Rift Cluster, where the Normandy currently hung over Karumto. The Cerberus ship had disappeared and they had lost all track of it, but Marcus was convinced it would pop up eventually; so here they were. He had been bored and wanted to pass the time doing something, and he had made the mistake of challenging Samantha to a game of chess.
It was a mistake he would not repeat in the near future.
The chess board they used was holographic, with a deep, ocean blue color glowing around the board from its emitters. It also used voice recognition, hence why Samantha seemed to be giving it orders. Every time a piece was lost, instead of falling off the board, it simply winked out of existence and right now, Marcus' side of the board was looking awfully empty.
Samantha had wiped the floor with him; apparently his skill at poker didn't count towards chess. In just a few short minutes she had annihilated him, despite his military-like tactics. He had really underestimated Samantha, which was especially stupid, given she had told him she was quite an avid chess player and had even been part of multiple tournaments. Still, his overconfidence was his undoing.
"You can't think forever, Captain," Samantha taunted, legs crossed as she posed herself triumphantly, "Eventually, you have to make a move."
He shot her a glare, although it wasn't without mirth. He turned back to the board, considering his next move. He had no choice. Both his rooks were spread too far out to help and could only move straight, while the pawn was well out of their range. The pawn had taken out his last bishop, he only had three pawns left, and then there was just his king and queen. A queen he would now have to use to save his king.
He sighed, leaning back as he rubbing his face, not even looking as he spoke, "9H to 7G."
His queen shot forward, the pawn vaporizing upon contact as the queen came to rest on the spot it previously occupied. It saved his king...for now.
Samantha shook her head, leaning forward as she placed her glass back on the table top, raising an eyebrow at him, "That's quite the sacrifice, Shepard. But was it worth it?" She looked down to the board with a cheeky grin, "7A to 7G."
Her rook shot forward, and his queen disappeared in a flash of blue light as it was evicted from the board. He bit back his look of pain as he watched it go; his most valuable unit gone. His comms specialist could only giggle as she took another sip, reaching down and taking a bite out of her ration bar.
"That tactic would have worked in real life," he grumbled, eliciting another giggle from Samantha's side, followed by a rather loud sip. He sighed, looking down on the board again. Seeing the position her rook was in, he made his decision, and he moved his rook into position behind hers, cutting off its escape. She quickly ordered her rook to instead move up, so that it was in a perfect position to take out his king. His eyes widened. He couldn't go diagonally because her queen could deal with him, and he couldn't go forward because she had pawn ready to attack it.
"Checkmate," she declared, and the board automatically switched off, reducing it to a simple metal board ontop of the table. He cursed inwardly at his defeat, but it quickly turned into a smirk when he saw Samantha's own lopsided grin. Eventually, they both broke into quiet laughter, sighing at their own seriousness.
"I can't believe it," Samantha mused, retrieving her board as she stood up, finishing off her drink as she went, placing her ration bar wrapper in a pocket on her uniform and hooking the board under one arm, "I'll be able to tell the crew that I beat Captain Shepard at chess."
"Don't let it get to your head," he warned with a grin, shaking his head as he stood up with her, stretching all the muscles in his body, "I might surprise you."
Samantha snorted, shaking her head as she made towards the steps, "You need alot of training before you can even hope to surprise me," she was at the steps when she suddenly stopped, turning to face him with a much warmer smile, this one friendly rather than provocative, "But this was fun, Shepard. Not often that one's commanding officer plays chess with a subordinate."
He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, "It was nothing; besides, I'm not your typical CO. I'm very loose with the rules. You'd be surprised with how many fraternization protocols were broken on this ship in the past three years."
She raised an eyebrow at that, "Ah...are you making a move on me, captain? Because you know I'm only-"
"-not interested, Traynor," he stopped, surprised by her sudden defensiveness. That was out of nowhere. I didn't even insinuate I was interested in her, and she just assumes that I'm trying to flirt? Seriously? "Happily married, I'll have you know. Besides, while you are my type, you're the wrong type of that type." You aren't quarian, for starters.
She frowned at that, looking slightly confused as she actually tried to think on that one. Finally, she just closed her eyes and shook her head, opening them to show her baffled expression, "That made no sense, but I'll go with it; thank you for clearing that up."
Before he could even formulate a response, the comm hummed, the holopad next to him coming to life as EDI's purple pawn appeared, "Shepard. I apologize for the interruption, but we have intercepted a tranmission that you would find of personal interest. I also believe it was flagged as urgent, and has a priority one signal attached to it."
He frowned, as did Samantha. That sounded serious. Who would be transmitting from all the way out here? Far too close to the Terminus Systems and Reaper territory to be safe. He turned to her pedestal, crossing his arms as he leaned back on one hip, "Give it to me, EDI. What is it?"
"A distress call. And it is quarian in origin," EDI instantly replied, and he felt like his heart stopped beating for a moment and everything just froze, his eyes widening, "It is coming from a ship of cruiser weight whose IFF pings them as the QMFV Depaxia. They are transmitting from the Far Rim Cluster, however, it is odd. According to the message, they are running separate from the rest of the Fleet, yet it is carrying the entire Admiralty Board."
He raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her knowledge, "How did you know all that from a distress call?"
"Because it was explicitly stated in the distress," she emphasized, "It is not, however, stated why they are in distress, only that they are trying to contact the Citadel urgently stating that they are in need of 'help.' Again, what this is for is unknown."
"What other ships are in the area capable of responding to the distress call other than ours? Allied ships?" he asked. His mind had already been made up. If it was quarians, Tali was involved. And if she was involved, he would be there in an instant. To think...I could be with her again...after so long...seven months...what has she been up to? What have the quarians been up to all this time? Why haven't they helped in the war?
"We are in the only ship close enough to respond in time," she stated clearly, "It is likely that any Cerberus or Reaper ships in the area will pick up the tranmission and trace it to its source, which makes waiting for a fleet impractical. The closest allied fleet movement is five hundred clusters away; an estimated time of arrival for them would be two days."
"That's too long," he replied, sighing, "What system?"
"The Dholen System, in orbit of Haestrom," she replied.
None of it made any sense. What was a quarian ship doing in geth space transmitting? They might as well be flaring their engines and blaring airhorns for all the attention it would draw. But what if it meant what he hoped it meant? What if it meant Tali had actually managed to talk the quarians and geth into peace talks, and he wouldn't need to bother uniting them?
If that was the case, where was the fleet, and why was there a lone ship calling for reinforcements? In geth space, no less? And if they had achieved peace, why hadn't they approached the UGC offering help? They were in the middle of a war; even the quarians would understand the necessity of unification, despite racial prejudice. No, something else was going on. And it had to do with the geth.
He just hoped it didn't mean what he thought it did.
"Set a course for Haestrom EDI, as fast as you can," he ordered, moving past Samantha towards the door, moving more purposely than he ever had before, "We need to get to the bottom of this. The quarians are calling for help for a reason, and we need to get there before whoever they're running from do."
He would able to see Tali again. She was close, he could feel it.
But she wasn't close enough. Only later would he realize that.
"A reunion forged in fire. The fires of combat."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"It seems that from our first meeting to both our reunions, I was always saving you. My damsel in distress."
- Marcus Shepard.
"I am not a damsel. As for being in distress...I guess an exploding ship can count as distress."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"No shit."
- Marcus Shepard.
"Exploding ship? What?"
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"A tale of a suicidal and stupid rescue mission."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Well that's it. I've basically wrapped up everything up to this point except the Illusive Man, but I hope to worm in a scene with him next chapter, even if it will be largely quarian centric, and will set up the quarian-geth arc. Aside from that, its clear sailing. Next chapter is officially Tali/Shepard centric and will, largely, be an improved version of Priority: Perseus Veil.
Take note that after the quarian-geth arc is done, a large amount of the following chapters will be devoted to DLC. As I confirmed in this chapter, the Omega DLC will be the first order of business. After that, Leviathan and yes, the Citadel, will follow. I love the Citadel DLC, and its actually the part I'm looking forward to that part the most, and give me a chance to really experiment with Shepard's clone alot more.
I try to convince myself that we're nowhere near the end, but when you think about it, we sorta are. After this, there's only a few DLCs before we have Thessia, Horizon, Cerberus HQ and then the final battle. Of course, I'm going to spice it up with my own additions (so it might not be that syncronous and might be broken up), but for the most part, we're not that far from the end. Its nowhere near the end For A Better Tomorrow, but we're near the end of Holocaust, even if it feels like leagues away. Just keep in mind that there is one installment after this, V: Ultimatum, which will be the first and only story that is SOLELY my content, without any game guiding my progress. It both terrifies me and excites me; also keep in mind that Ultimatum will be...very dark.
As in darker than Holocaust. Alot of your favourite characters are going to get alot of shit and beaten up, and Tali is no exception. Ultimatum is my battlefield; I will be going all out. No mercy. There will be a ton of angst, and I'm going to portray the absolute terror and unfairness of war, and as much as I hate it, there will be far more main character deaths in Ultimatum than (possibly) in the whole series combined. You think you know pain? You know nothing, Jon Snow. Just wanted to give you a heads up.
Anyway, enough of me babbling. You probably want me to get writing Chapter 30 as quickly as possible. So on with the show! It might be nearly over, but we're aren't there yet!
Keelah Se'lai, troopers!
