Chapter 9
"So, Farrun, why a sword?" I asked, the only people I saw with swords were the phantoms, and they were Cerberus, and wouldn't turn up until ME3 comes around.
"Old Human culture, used swords as weapons of honour." Farrun replied, "Honour isn't a big thing for most Salarians. We prefer fighting dirty, do anything to win." He paused, frowning. "I hate that."
"Japanese? The bushido code I think it's called?" I asked, I did Karate as a kid, but I gave it up after a few weeks. Too much work, no reward, the sensei spoke in Japanese so I couldn't understand shit. I was a great kicker that much I got, but it was horribly boring.
"Yeah that's it. Humans are almost as honourable as Turians." He smiled, "My husband was one of the most honourable humans I had ever met." He looked at the floor, something dark in his memories.
"I guess he's in a better place then eh?" I said, punching his arm. Not the best show of understanding, I agree, but I don't do well with mourning deaths, I've been called cold. I see it as acceptance. The dead are not dead, they live in our memories. They don't want a crying blubbering mess, I know I wouldn't.
"Yeah, he was a … he was a follower of a common human religion, and that gave him peace of mind." I'm not one to ask about the private lives of other people, so I left him at that.
We were in a hotel room, well, hotel is an exaggeration. Even a motel is too much of a stretch. It was more of a … well a bare room. Two beds, a settee and a shitty TV. There was a film on, offering background noise, showing… I don't know, some Turian film featuring lots of blood and pointless gore. Three, or Arraya, had gone scouting for a new ship, she wanted to rescue slaves, a noble goal but I thought that getting back to the Citadel was imperative …But, Arraya wants to make as much difference as possible to Omega. She'd be perfect for Garrus' squad.
Farrun was teaching me some sword moves, after he complemented my awesome clubbing skills back on Virmire. He showed me how to 'be one with my sword' and I brought a decent Vibroblade from the market, and we were practising when Arraya came back.
"Okay," She started, putting a data pad on the nearest bed. And no, the Salarians slept in the beds, I slept on the settee. "A Batarian slave group, they're arriving tomorrow. Small frigate, Farrun, you could fly is easy. Problem is, there is about two dozen batarians. Their leader, pretty fucked up guy, Tia'Killo, is a veteran and a pretty good warrior too. He might be a problem, but the rest of his team are just generic Batarian troopers."
"Just a day in the office then?" I said with a grin. Arraya returned my smile, "we going in stealth style?" She nodded, "Good." I said, before picking up my new blade and lunging at Farrun. He was ready and he parried without putting in a smidge of effort.
"You are getting better. Practice session tomorrow?" My grin intensified.
"Fuck yeah."
"What's your story Mack?" Arraya asked, before typing something onto the datapad. This distracted me, allowing Farrun to leave a small slice on my bicep.
"Fuck!" I shouted. I parried a side blow, sliding his blade down my own. I span my blade, and flicked my wrist upwards, forcing my smaller opponent backwards. "No story." I state, my breath heavy. Farrun countered back quickly. I side stepped a lunge at my legs, bringing my own sword downwards. The lizard was quick, diving past me. "I'm a soldier, trained to kill, seen bad shit, done bad shit."
I struck Farrun in the leg, making him gasp. I threw myself back, dodging a counter attack. Arraya dropped her datapad, inspecting our battle. "Everyone has a story… why aren't you wary of us? Salarians I mean. Most humans who aren't, have a story …" She frowned at Farrun, "How come the human hit you Farrun? You're normally invincible." Sarcasm dripping off of every word.
Farrun frowned, and then looked at her, lowering his blade. Another quick flick of my wrist gave him another wound on his arm. He gasped, looking shocked. "Arraya!" He pulled up his sword again, keeping his eye on mine. I remember reading somewhere, a man's body can lie, but his eyes cannot. Obviously, Salarians learn this as well. "He isn't just a human." I grinned at him, lunging again. Farrun was quick, almost as quick as me. But not quite. He blocked my blade, and tried to feint, I didn't fall for it, leaving his defence scattered. I held my blade to his throat. "He's like the bastard child of a Krogan and a Rachni. Quick and strong."
I licked my lips, "Why thank you, but there is nothing wrong in being second best Mr Farrun." I smiled. He looked aghast at my words. "I'm joking!" I laughed at his expression, offering my hand. He took it and smiled.
"People say humans are irrational, unpredictable. I agree, that's what makes them wonderful."
I couldn't help but laugh. Arraya did too, but the mysterious sniper still mystified me. I knew next to nothing about her.
"You got anyone waiting for you back home?" I asked.
"Just family, no mate, if that's what you're asking. How about you?" She replied, she perked at the mention of her family.
"You remember Gunnery Chief Williams? Back on Virmire?" She gave me a confused expression.
"The woman who killed the Krogan." Farrun told her, "She is your mate?"
"No!" I laughed, "I wanted her to be, don't get me wrong, she isn't just yet." I said smiling. This universe isn't too bad if I must admit.
"Huh, who would have guessed." Arraya said with a smile, "Could you guys take a break now? I would love some sleep."
I threw Farrun my sword, "Looser gets to clean the weapons." I said with my award winning smile.
He sighed, much to my amusement. "I suppose that's fair." Arraya laughed too.
It's a good time to be alive.
Saren's Perspective (I know right, holy shit!)
"You got the wrong h-human!"
"I told you Cyrus, he wasn't there!" I was shouting now. Vorcha were just as much as scum as Humans, if not, they were worse.
"Enough with the excuses! You failed."
"You haven't told me what he's done!" I was growling, portraying my anger towards this petty creature.
"He has more knowledge of your universe than both of us combined! My brother seeks to stop the Reapers, so he brought an expert."
Brother? Related to problem, makes you a likely cause. Vorcha were like pyjaks, reproducing and filling in the holes left in the system. "How? How is that even possible." I growled.
"Cyrus. Leave the Turian, his species is not like yours." Sovereign growled.
Cyrus bristled. He was dressed in some retro garb. It made him look elite. Even when he spoke, he tried to project power but it failed. Like all Vorcha, he is simply a rodent.
"Of course, my master. I will try to locate this h-human before he becomes more of a threat." And like that, he was gone. Interdimensional Teleportation he called it. Science fiction and hocus pocus is all. Smoke and mirrors.
"Can Cyrus be trusted?" I ask, vermin are there to be exterminated, not to give advice.
"No. But he bares the mark of the Harbinger. That is enough." Was the ominous reply.
Harbinger. He had been mentioned many times. The leader or perhaps, Commander, of the Reapers. He was the one to impress. If I were save the Turian race, then I would need to impress him. He, from what I had been told, was a merciless god who thrived on power. That was an oversimplification, naturally. But I knew he was placating me. The weak would be purged, while the strong, such as myself, would rise to power.
I will rule with the Reapers. The Councillor was a fool; even the Primarch will join the ancestors. They will be the first to be purged. Then I, hah, I will consolidate the remaining Turians and control the strongest. Sure, they will resist to begin with, but a show of power and they will fall in line.
I felt a grin come to my lips.
"Saren. I feel your thirst for power."
Oh Sovereign? You know nothing of what I feel. What I lust.
"Go to my core, I would like to give you some new implants before the final attack."
Oh, poor machine god. What little you understand. You think you will dominate everything. Yet I will the control the controller.
Pitiful humans. I'm yet to understand the power that this new one has. Why does the Vorcha want him dead so badly? I refuse to believe he knows as much as he does. No one could know the future. For the moment, I know what I need to do, and that is to kill Shepard.
I swiped at the light in my room. It hit the wall with a satisfying smash.
Shepard. The bitch's skull will be crushed beneath my heel. I felt my anger rising again. Why did I get this feeling whenever I thought of her?
To get my talons around her neck … "Arg!" My fist smashed my rifle into a million pieces.
"Saren. The implants will allow you crush more than your gun."
"Thank you for that. I will go now." Sovereign was a, what was the human term? A bastard.
It is all necessary.
I know it is, to rule with the Reapers.
I broke into laugher, maniacal and terrifying.
What have I become?
It is irrelevant. I will get these implants, and I will be able to destroy Shepard, this … other human, and then dominate with the Reapers single handily. It is for the greater good.
The greater good.
Back to my perspective
Seven months before the attack on Eden Prime …
Stepping out of the transport craft, the sunlight was my first thought. Shit, why on Earth would I choose here? Well, I suppose that's the point, it's not Earth.
Eden Prime. The Jewel of Humanity.
Never did like hot weather. Its why I love space. It was summer, so I suppose we could get winters like my tour in Canada. God, I love snow. Or perhaps it's the softness of the cold air on my skin.
"Staff Lieutenant." I turned and saluted to the man standing there.
Major Leon Baker. He was my superior during my short stay here, on Eden Prime. He was a big man, at least seven feet, with a handle bar moustache and typical military buzz cut. He had piercing eyes, that make even a Turian want to look at the floor. I wasn't a Turian though.
I was a war hero. But still, I was here simply because high command was jealous. I know it's more than that, but that's how it feels. I got a hero's welcome when I got back to Earth after clearing the slavers, but a secret meeting with Admiral Hackett confined me to the 'wonders of the new world'. I was here because of I disobeyed orders.
"Sir!" I barked. Becoming more like a statue than one would have thought possible. I looked into his eyes, not pulling away from his death gaze.
He seemingly ignored me. Had he not been looking at me, I would assume he hadn't noticed my presence.
After a few minutes he spoke.
"You're to head to the ship port, get there and report to the squad leader. You're going to meet with Lieutenant Hannover." He stated, before leaving me at my trooper transport.
It was only a couple of minutes away, so walking was no problem. I saw a few soldiers mulling about by the door to the barracks. Although, 'barracks' wasn't the word. Barn, was more accurate. It was large building with large double doors.
"Hey, new blood." The one bulky soldier said, turning his friends' attention from their conversation to me.
Four lads, two girls. All of them tough looking soldier types. The males all had shoulders that struggle to fit though most door frames, while the women had the exact same. The males all had buzz cuts, they could be a large set of twins if going on that feature alone. The girls both their hair in buns, one brown, one blond.
They all turned and approached me, forming a semi circle around me. The brown haired girl stepped in front of me, close enough I could smell her breathe. Minty.
"So new blood. Got a name?" She said, jabbing my shoulder. Her friends laughed, the one guy who first spoke guffawed.
"Mack." I state. Not stepping up to the bait.
"What's your number blood?" She asked, jabbing me again.
"49910190."
"What's wrong with you blood? Scared yet?" She went to jab me again, but I caught her arm. She pulled her other arm back, readying a punch, but she was rusty. I had been on tour the week before, while I could see the weight she had put on from too many weeks not on service. I twisted her arm behind her back, at the same time I kicked the back of her knees bringing her to her knees. She let out a small gasp.
By this time, only one soldier had reacted. He had drawn his pistol, but he was still too slow. His first shot made me drop to my knees, his second almost hit the girl on her knees causing her to scream. He hesitated on his third and that was his mistake. I pulled the girl's gun from her holster and brought it to her head.
"Yield." I shouted. Now, all the soldiers had guns aimed at me. None of them yielded like I asked, so I took a look for a superior officer. I was happy. The girl on her knees was a Gunnery Chief, the highest ranking marine here. Two of the males were service officers, the other girl was a private and the others were Corporals. I was three ranks higher than the chief.
"I am Staff Lieutenant Mack *******, and I am looking for your superior. You have shamed the name of the marines and you all will be reprimanded for this shameful episode." I bark. The fastest soldier, one of the service officers, checked out my chevrons. He blanched when he saw I was telling the truth and promptly holstered his gun before saluting like a mother fucker.
The others were slower, and copied the motion. I grinned, when the other girl looked at the chief below me. The look said 'holy shit I'm sorry'.
"Who is your superior?" I bark.
"H-Hannover s-sir!" Whimpered the other girl, Christ, she couldn't be older than twenty.
"Where is he?" I ask. I realise how much anger I'm projecting at the marines here, but they were trying to bully a potential recruit.
"Through the barracks, first door on the left." The fast ass service officer informed me.
"Names." I state.
"Barton." He says first.
"Thompson." The second service officer.
"V-violet." The blond lass said.
"Kingston." The two corporals replied, together. Twins.
"Williams." The girl on her knees said.
I normally prefer a girl on her knees, but right this second I was still pissed at being posted to colony.
I didn't look back, or even offer to help the girl up, I simply stormed past them into the barracks. It was a decent size, could fit up to about 50 people. Cots filled this main room, but there was a low ceiling, suggesting another room upstairs. Hopefully it was a mess hall.
I turned to the door on my immediate left, the plaque reading, "Colonial Defence Militia Commander Hannover". Every colony had one, especially ones this close to the terminus systems. But I only saw a few soldiers. Back on my home colony, they had 24/7 patrols, simply to make people feel safe. I could hear muffled shouting, but I wanted to know what I was supposed to be doing here.
"Its racism!"
"It's the rules and I cannot change it for one Turian."
I opened the door to see a group of Turians arguing with the Commander. Four to be precise, only one female but she looked like she wanted to avoid confrontation. That hadn't worked. The oldest looking Turian, the one with more scars than the others, had both talons on the commander's desk trying to look as intimidating as possible.
"We live here! Not to mention you're understaffed!" He shouted.
"Jarron. It's the rules. No Turians are allowed anywhere near a military installation on Earth!" The commander countered.
If there's one thing I hate, no, utterly despise, its racism. On any level. I was a soldier, I had trained in the N7 program and passed with ease. I knew the rules by heart.
"Colonial charter, chapter 6 'Colonial Militia' paragraph 3.4. "Any person who had a place of residence and pays relevant taxes, has the right to join the militia and home forces. The Commander has no right to refuse entry to any living persons on any grounds other than hampering disabilities or injuries."" I chime. All heads turn towards me.
"Ah, it's my replacement. Lieutenant, you're being promoted. Congratulations while I get off this rock." Hannover said before walking out of his office, leaving four surprised and very confused people.
I walked over to his desk and stared at an email that was open on his computer. I read it out loud, simply so I could understand it better and explain it to my Turian friends.
"Hannover, your concerns have been noted and your replacement is on his way. You are being reassigned to 5th fleet, the Apollo ship to serve as the XO. Admiral Hackett."
I re-read the letter, making sure I understood that correctly. Mentally head slapping, I understood why I was here. I wasn't being punished. I was here to do good and shake up a lazy colony. Militia was a burden that the colonial governors didn't like to spend money on, so occasionally, veterans were sent in to shake up the colony.
"We want to join the Militia." The head Turian said simply.
"Okay." I state.
He appeared to do a double take on my response that makes me laugh.
"That's it?" He asked, even his partners were laughing at the ridiculous situation.
"Yup." I start to dismiss them, but I have an afterthought. "I assume you all have advanced close combat training?" I ask.
They all nod, the girl speaking up, "I'm a specialist, could we ask why?"
"The force here is lazy, I want to shake them up. Plus, I'm looking for a challenge." I add with a wink.
The head Turian simply snorts, "Alirrah is going through spectre training, you'd have no chance against my daughter."
I laugh, "Go and speak to Gunnery Chief Williams, tell her … get everyone in the barracks tomorrow morning at 6. That includes any new or potential recruits." I say before sitting in my chair, "Dismissed I guess." I add with a chuckle.
The head Turian, Jorrun I guess, nods with a flare of his mandibles. He's smiling? Good.
I awoke startled. Shit.
I've never had a dream so intense. It was like I was actually there. I was living the moment. I'm not a moron, I know that wasn't just a dream.
It was a memory.
My prior, if I was correct. I could recognise the location, Eden Prime that much was obvious. I saw Ash, and I could recognise one of the soldiers that was there when I arrived. What did that me?
Shit. This isn't going away, but what can I do? Perhaps when I go back to sleep, I'll have another one?
Decidedly, I sat up. Rubbing my tired eyes, that were heavy after lack of sleep, but I had no wish to sleep. I had stuff to do before we take this slave ship.
I looked over at the two beds, both Salarians were sleeping soundly. Good, one of my peeves was waking people. People always show contempt when you're the one knocking everything over while they try to sleep. I once fell into a drum kit.
I stood up, almost falling over my tired legs. "Fuck!" I cried, I went to steady myself on the wall, but my hand went straight through it.
I pulled my fist out, quickly glancing back at my companions – neither had stirred. I let out a sigh of relief.
Walking over to my mirror I started to get dressed, admiring my body. I still haven't got used to it. Its just not me. Or well, it doesn't feel like me. It was what I always dreamed of in all honestly. I never wanted to be a soldier, perhaps a teacher. Yeah, I let myself go, then got fit enough to win a 100m sprint, never much more.
I couldn't help but flex. And then I sniggered noticing my 'bulge'.
I chose a simple grey outfit, all futuristic and shit. Similar to one of Shepard's in ME2 in fact, although my favourite then was that stupid cowboy looking one.
Once I felt I was presentable, I unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. A glance back shows Farrun and Arraya are still sleeping and I smile. Salarians sleep like newts, all curled up.
I had to walk past a few homeless/junkie/prostitutes on my way out, it reminded me of the old crack house games like GTA had. I felt I had to stick my nose up at them.
It took a few minutes, almost half an hour in fact before I got to an armour shop.
'Nova Arma'. Painfully obvious human origin. 'Nova' – The plural from the Latin 'novum' meaning 'new thing', although most people don't know that, and 'arma' the latin for armour. What is it with humans and latin referenced? Even in this universe.
Entering the small shop, which was, I must mention, was next to an unnamed club. This club had batarians falling out of its ears. They were everywhere. It was a great place for a human to set up shop.
"Willkommen!" Shouted the clerk. He looked about mid thirties. Friendly enough face, but his eyes were wary. This was a man who had seen combat, most likely against batarians.
Let's test out my German. It's been a while since I used it in actual conversation but I was pretty strong at it. I used to end up watching films with German subtitles and swapping around. It was never as natural as English, so my German always came out anglicised.
"Hello my good man!" I ask, exaggerating the cheer in my voice, "I'm looking for something… I'm not sure, but let me see your best quality armour."
He looked at me expectantly, few customers I bet. "Ja, of course, over here." He ushered me over to a stand, "It's called; 'Der Terminus Armour'"
I knew what he had in mind, and I was … awed at it.
The Terminus Armour was my favourite armour in both Mass effect two, and three. But the games don't capture it's … awe inspiring intensity. It was pure black. Like obsidian, but not quite. The mesh sections around the arms and groin had a diamond quality. It sparkled. The red lines seemed to flash at my presence, like it knew I would be a great owner. It had a demonic quality I couldn't ignore.
"By the nine …" I state, mouth gaping. "Can I try it on?"
It took mere moments to put on. Perfect fit. And it was the most comfortable apparel I had ever worn. Yes, even more so than my skin. It was perfect. The HUD activated while I was still admiring the fit, making me jolt at a voice.
"Statement: VAI version 1.56 online." An AI?
The HUD was like my eye sight but better. I could see everything with the utmost quality. I turned my head to face the German who was looking at me expectantly. Suddenly, something similar to Fallout's VAT system appeared. A name appeared above him, Wolfgang Himmler, that made me pause. Focusing on him, the automated voice continued, in a particular accent that I couldn't place.
"Informed Statement: Wolfgang Himmler, ex Alliance Sergeant, dishonourable discharge after torturing a Turian slaver, breaking Citadel interrogation law, clause Gyrot Huyle, using conflicting amino acids as a method of pacification. Went AWOL after failing to meet parole."
It wasn't unpleasant in the slightest, perhaps similar to EDI's. "Are you an AI?" I ask.
"Condescending reply: No. I am an automatic interface equipped by my original manufacturer, Cyrus Delorian." Huh. So she was like EDI? In a sense? I don't understand this level of technology. Perhaps this is normal and the games didn't focus on it…
I shrug it off, I got new armour. Well, I haven't paid for it yet but then again, I didn't plan to. I'm thankful my clerk is a psychopath, suits me well.
I pulled out my pistol, and struck a 'returning hero' pose. "How do I look?" I ask to no one in particular.
"You look super!" Laughed Wolfgang in heavily accented English.
"Terrifying." Came my ear piece. VAI? I should really get an actual name for her.
I squinted at Wolfgang, my targeting system suggested a double shot to the head, or shot to the torso and then to kill him while he bleeds out. There was a suggested 90% chance of success.
"VAI, should I kill Wolfgang or disable him and leave him?" I suggested. I was pretty much set in my plan to kill this man. He was nice enough, but he was a criminal. He deserved to die. If that wasn't reason enough, I need good equipment to help Shepard, and even to get back home.
"Musing: By Batarian standards he would be a rich man. By Turian standards he would dead. By ancient human standards, he'd be tortured." By her tone, I know she lied to me. This is an AI. One with emotion and one that, surprisingly, reminded me of the evil robot in knights of the old republic, HB-something or another.
Joining in my new partner's convictions, I choose to shoot the German in the head. My pistol, it turns out, to my advantage no less, that it had a silencer attachment. It must be built in because I see no disconcernable extended barrel.
He hits the floor with a dull thud. His blood and brain matter now cover the wall behind him, making some other armour look well used.
I holstered my gun and walked out the shop.
What did I just do?
You killed a man not worth living.
That's good right? But why do I feel sick…
Spilling the blood of evil takes more what most organics are capable of.
That makes sense I suppose… why did I want to kill him… the urge … I couldn't contain it.
You will learn to savour the feeling.
The suit. The suit? The suit is talking to me. Controlling me? No. Influencing me. Similar to what the Reapers do to their victims. This suit isn't Reaper tech though.
"Vai, give me info about this suit." I state.
"Observation: The 'Terminus Armour' gets its title from its home, the Terminus Systems. Like all modern combat hard-suits, the Terminus Assault Armour is environmentally sealed with an independent air supply for use in space and extreme planetary conditions, with an onboard 'micro-frame VI' capable of running a suite of battle management software. To prevent detection by passive thermal sensors, body heat is channelled to the base of the feet, where is can be dispersed on the ground."
"That's pretty fucking awesome." I laugh, "I'm lucky that his business was bad enough he let me try on the best armour in stock eh?"
"Obvious Statement: He was weak." This ominous reply left me silent. What I have got myself into?
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Well, this is chapter nine up.
Note one – Thanks to the reviews who I got back to, and the one of them who I'm waiting on, your insight is brightening :)
All reviews are welcomed, especially the ones who tell me how to improve :)
Mack
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