"You know it's a bad sign when you're called to the fleet's admiral himself after a failed mission. Thanks a lot, Mojo." Arak clenched his fists, wishing he could bury them in his pockets. They'd been summoned by the admiral the moment they left the shuttle.
They were still in their armor, covered with dust and blood, and he feared he looked as pathetic as he felt. Partly felt, but he doubted that the boiling anger inside him could be reflected by his battle suit. He'd trade the pay of three months for a shower and slipping into casual clothes. As it was, they had barely time to remove their helmets and protection masks.
Damn this day, he had had a weird feeling about it the moment they had been deployed. The first hour or two had gone well, but then they screwed it. Or rather, Mojo did. Which meant all of them screwed it because they didn't manage to make him a part of the team.
He had been hoping against hope to be assigned as his squad's leader since they'd been put together by the ship's commander two weeks ago. The ship had been engaged in battles and special operations soon after he had boarded it, and there hadn't been time for formalities. It didn't matter, they worked together well without a specific rank order. With one exception.
Mojo or not, once things had gotten a little calmer, and once they had finished a few assignments, there should have been said a final word on that matter.
Meyrani had said from the beginning that she just wanted to do her job for the benefit of the team, but had no interest in leading a group of mixed races.
Amalthea however was a born leader, and she was used to working in multiracial squads. She was strong, smart, and, well, more disciplined than Arek, he had to admit. But only slightly!
Mojo? Out of question. If Arek was honest, being the team's leader, and therefore responsible for Mojo's actions and behavior was nothing to look forward to.
"Sit down," a voice commanded once they stepped into the admiral's office. The three of them took place on three visitor chairs, even the turian followed Admiral Hackett's words.
Here we go. Arek took a deep breath, waiting for the storm that the admiral's calm face promised to break loose. Finally, he was meeting the legend, the admiral of the Alliance Fifth Fleet. Hackett's reputation preceded him, but Arek wasn't in need of the rumours to know what to expect. Stern justice, which would have thrilled him if they hadn't failed the mission.
Dammit, right now, if he had a choice, he'd switch with Meyrani in a heartbeat. Torn flesh, blood loss, and emergency treatment in the sickbay sounded more alluring than sitting here.
"You are members of the fifth fleet. All three of you, as well as Miss Avilius, are here because you're capable fighters, and because your prior superiors assured me you were assets to this war." Hackett spoke with the same calm voice that had asked them in. With his wrinkled face and the gray beard he looked old, and a bit tired, Arek noted. But it was a face mirroring years of experience and responsibility. The admiral's posture still spoke of vigor, and the glare of his eyes made Arek pray that Hackett would never fight on the side of the reapers.
"Missions are won and lost, but it's the how that decides if a fleet is proud of their squad, or ashamed. I doubt I have to tell you what you brought to us today."
God, that was worse than being called to the principle, back in his school days. Arek stopped himself from flinching. He tried to hold his hands still on his lap, but couldn't help clawing his fingers around his mask. If the admiral only sat down, maybe he wouldn't feel like like he was a 13 years old boy.
The speech went on for a little while longer, each word a precise hit against his pride, and his honor as a human, soldier and biotic. He didn't dare to look at Amalthea and Mojo. It wasn't hard to guess, however, to read their faces. Amalthea had enough pride as a soldier for a dozen human veterans, and Mojo – no, it was for the better that he didn't see Mojo's bored, uncaring expression.
His eyes fixed on the desk in front of him. The simple design had almost fooled him, but unlike most of the ship's interior, it wasn't made of metal. A dark, almost black wood of some kind, Arek wasn't an expert of these things. He was surprised to find an individual piece of furniture in an office that the admiral only visited once in a while, but it was comforting. Despite his straight pose, and his clear-cut words, Hackett was still human.
So we'll live! He bit on his tongue to hold back a chuckle. Come on, Arek, this isn't a good moment for silly thoughts and laughter. Not that he felt like laughing; however, he wished he could do just that. Having a good laugh at their stupidity, go on with life, and do better next time.
"Anything you have to say? Mr. Turner?"
Arek winced at the question. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, casting a glance at the turian.
No. Asshole or not, Mojo had not dragged him down so far that he'd rat out a squad mate. Yet.
"No, Sir," he muttered.
"We won't disappoint you again, Admiral Hackett! Assign another mission to us, any mission, asap, and we'll prove that we are an asset to this war!" Amalthea had jolted up to her feet. Her shoulders were shaking, but her voice was firm as she looked Admiral Hackett straight into his eyes without blinking.
"I hope you are aware there's no other option for you." Hackett nodded at the human and the turian. Arek rose, straightening his back. Mojo followed, slow enough for Arek to wish to punch his face.
"The circumstances are dire with the reapers at our doors. You can thank them, in any other war I would have removed you from the fleet."
Arek and Amalthea exchanged a quick glance. The admiral was right. That they got a second chance wasn't an act of generosity or kindness.
Able to think somewhat for yourself, capable of holding a weapon and willing to pull the trigger?
Join the war, have fun, make friends, save the galaxy. In other words – be fed to the reapers, or something like that. Either make a difference, or buy time for those who do.
It wasn't the first time Arek regretted joining this war, but on the other hand, was there really a way to escape it? If he had to go down with everything and everyone, he'd rather do so fighting than hiding. Would also make a better story in case he survived.
"I cannot take responsibility for transferring another engineer to an unstable squad at this point. There's a war happening out there, this is not the time for us to focus on a small team of adults behaving like children.
Commander Crusher is waiting for a status update on Miss Avilius. Depending on how quickly she'll recover, she'll either rejoin you, or the three of you will be transferred to other squads.
Valkyrie Almathea, you're in command of the squad until further notice. Turn this mess into a team and get work done in the future. Dismissed."
A silent trio closed the door of the Admiral's temporary quarter behind them.
"Now, that was awful. I felt like I was 40 again," Almathea groaned once they walked around the first corner. "Listen, I never want to have this happen again, and believe me, I'll make sure it won't!"
"Heard you, boss! No objection from my side." Arek jumped two steps ahead, and blocked Mojo's way. "I swear by my grandmother's ashes, if you keep bringing down the squad with your dumb stunts, you'll regret it!" He poked the turian's chest, an action he regretted the very next moment, when Mojo seized his wrist. The strength of the grip was painful enough to bring a man to his knees, but Arek gritted his teeth. He'd rather have his wrist broken before he only flinched.
"How cute, shorty is threatening me."
"Stop it, both of you!" Amalthea shoved herself between the two men. Mojo let go of Arek, and both stepped apart. "You two won't brawl! Not during a mission, not while in the lounge, and certainly not a few steps away from Admiral Hackett, and that's an order!"
She took a deep breath, fighting against the frown on her face and the growl coming up her throat.
"Okay." She exhaled, and turned towards Mojo. "You! Don't play dumb, you know very well that you're the reason why we're the only squad in the whole fleet that doesn't work as a team. You don't want to pull your weight on your own account, fine! But you'll listen to my orders whenever we're on duty! When I order you to go with Arek and have his back during a raid, you'll make sure that not even a dust particle hits him, understood? Good," she added when he shrugged.
"Ha, well spoken. I'll pray for a sandstorm next time, so better polish your scope." Arek's chuckle broke off when Amalthea's head snapped around and her dark glare pierced right through his eyes into his brain.
"Arek Turner, for the Goddess' sake, shut up! The situation is hard on all of – yes, ALL of us!" she hissed in response to Mojo's snort. "And you're not making it easier, so here's my order for you: Stop provoking him! No threats, no mocking, no gloating. If there's nothing nice to say, keep your mouth shut!"
"Oh, come on, Thea, if I was that bad I'd have told on him back there with the Admiral!"
"How generous of you." Mojo gave a dry laugh, and took a mock bow. "I'm almost glad I didn't tell him about your incompetence and inappropriate behavior during missions and towards the squad."
"I'm so very proud of both of you." Almathea shook her head, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "If you continued to keep quiet like that a little bit longer it would be wonderful. Seriously, guys, I'm centuries away from my matron stage, stop making me talk like a mother."
"Sorry, Thea, honey, I'll try- I'll shut up from now on, boss!" Arek hurried to correct himself when she shot another glare at him.
"Thank you." The shadow of a smile hushed across her face. "We can do better than what happened on- wait." The message signal of her omnitool interrupted her. After a quick glance, she sighed.
"Bad news?" Arek gave her a sympathetic pat on the back, trying to catch a glimpse of the message.
"Commander Crusher wants to talk to me, so my guess is – yes." Her fingers flew across the interface as she confirmed the order. "Let's visit Meyrani later. You, too, Mojo! Meanwhile, Arek, please report your broken filter to Jim before you hit the shower. Call it a day after that."
"Copy that." With a grin, Arek clicked his heels together and saluted.
"Clown." Mojo pushed Arek out of his way, and hurried down the corridor before the growling asari could open her mouth.