Chapter 20: Shäin Alon

Nolta circled around the sparring ring, mirroring his trainer, looking for an opening. The asari kept her outward demeanor implacable, but internally she was quite excited. The young quarian had made staggering progress in the space of two short weeks since his surgery and would soon possess enough of a handle on his biotics to use them in the field, though his marine training would be several months longer.

Without warning, the quarian loosed a warp that swirled and crackled along the surface of her biotic barrier. Malea hesitated for an instant, his warp attacks had been far more focused, what- Too late, she realized the young man's ploy as a second, more focused warp pierced, then shredded the barrier. Malea tried to dodge to the side, but felt herself cast from her feet as a biotic throw punched her squarely in the ribs. Had it not been for her kinetic barrier and environment suit, the force of the blow might have cracked a few ribs.

In an instant, the quarian had her pinned to the ground and a dummy knife held to her throat. "I thenk that counts as a wen?"

The asari smirked, turned her right hand palm upward, and sent the young man into the ceiling. Nolta's subsequent fall was cushioned by a field of super high density atmosphere, courtesy of his own biotic talents. "Not quite," She stated as the quarian shook off his surprise. "Good trick, better reaction, but you let your guard down. It's not over until I explicitly tell you so. You should already know, the enemy won't necessarily fight fair."

"So," He wheezed, "es et over now?"

Malea laughed, "Yes, that fight is, take five, I'm sure your back is hurting after that impact." She shifted her attention to the small carrying case she had on the wall of the ring.

"Aye." Lae sat down, arms crossed atop his knees. "Ma'am?"

"Hmmm?" T'komé turned. "You know you can call me Malea."

He shook his head. "No Ma'am. And I won't call y' 'Mess T'komé either'. Ye'r m' superior and I well respect that."

The ex-commando sighed. It was a conversation they'd had a few times before, something attributable to his stubborn personality and her own customs. Nonetheless, it wasn't really worth arguing over. "What did you want to ask me?"

"How long wer' y' a Commando?"

"I already told you, sixty years."

Nolta dipped his head at an angle. "Aye, but your kind are some o' th' longest leved en th' galaxy, don't y' tend t' steck weth a career path longer than that?"

"Most of us do, I simply found no joy in it. It paid well, garnered a lot of respect, but it wasn't fulfilling."

"And teaching a choj'n'dyet like m'self es?"

Malea's eyebrows raised. "I don't recall calling you that…"

"But you've thought et."

"Nolta," The asari shook her head. "I come from a race where everyone is a biotic. No matter what you've told yourself, I have only the greatest respect for you and your people." Her tone was firm, but gentle, almost motherly. "Just because you're different doesn't mean that everyone you meet is going to look down on you."

Muta'Jahg entered the debriefing room partly confident, partly determined. If he could prove himself at this juncture, he'd be set for life, not that his current status was something that would go unenvied by most quarian soldiers… The other eight quarians in the room watched his entry with hints of disdain. It was no secret that the Field Marshall was a maverick, concerned firstly with his own wellbeing, then with that of the fleet and his people.

Despite this, he was an excellent Commander, not so much in terms of how he treated his men but in term of his results in the field. The last fights with the geth had come in the form of a series of skirmishes on the outermost fringes of the Perseus veil. Jahg's leadership during the ground engagements here had resulted in significant losses for the geth while suffering a mere handful of casualties on the quarian side.

Jahg took his place at the debriefing table and accepted a data pad from one of the assistants. To his right sat three of the Admiralty board: Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, Han'Gerrel vas Neema and Daro'Xen vas Moreh. Across from them and to Muta's left sat Shala'Raan vas Tonbay and Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, their peers on the board, in addition to captains Genro'Tenga vas Andras, Gria'Re vas Iktome and Hok'Neyl vas Cnera.

Each of the quarians offered the Field Marshall a silent nod, and fixed their gaze in his general direction. "Glad you could all come." He said finally. "A matter has come to my attention regarding a one Taar'Dei nar Qimbola. If you would have a look at your data pads please?"

Each of the officers in the room turned their eyes to the screens in front of them. "The young woman in question had located schematic data and refined materials necessary to replicate a gunship produced by a race predating the protheans by nearly four million years. What she was able to upload suggested the vessel in question would have the firepower to engage craft several times it size. When she contacted the fleet, Dei indicated that she wished to join the Cnera's crew, hence my request that Captain Hok join us."

Jahg paused for questions, looking around the table for any indicators that one of the assembled was not up to speed. Finding none, he resumed, "Thanks to the presence of geth forces in system, both Admirals Rael'Zorah and Daro'Xen have suggested that the recovery team sent to extract the pilgrim and her chosen gift be accompanied by a detachment of our ground troops."

"How heavy is the geth presence in system?" Admiral Gerrel's confident timbre projected from behind a black faceplate.

"We don't have any exact numbers; Taar's estimates posit their strength at two to three frigates' worth, possibly accompanied by a patrol wing of fighters, nothing terribly significant." Rael answered.

"Then why send a ground unit?"

"As a contingency. The extraction op will take a matter of days, if the unit were discovered without military support, they could easily be wiped out."

"We're getting off topic." Muta interjected. "Captain Hok has already agreed to send a detachment of Marines with the extraction party. The business of this meeting concerns a request I have made of the Andras." He motioned to Captain Tenga.

Genro glared at the Field Marshall, then addressed the rest of the room's inhabitants. "Field Marshall Jahg has requested that two of my crew accompany the military component in this venture. I am… reluctant to permit this, especially seeing as they are two of my newest additions."

Several pairs of eyebrows raised at the statement. It was quite obvious to most of the officers who at least one of the quarians in question was. Captain Re stood glaring indignantly at Muta. "He's hardly in his twenties how can you-" She caught herself and cut her words short.

"Nolta'Lae recently completed basic training and his biotics have developed enough for combat use, it'll do him good to get some field time." Jahg replied evenly. "Besides, I doubt they'll actually have an altercation with the geth."

"It's done."

"Good." The black robed figure loomed in the hologram before his servant. "This is ahead of schedule. I'll inform the client. Just make sure the coordinates are exact."

"They will be. I should note, they're sending a full platoon out with him. Our client should expect heavy losses."

"They are prepared to suffer casualties. Shadow Broker, out."

Nolta rotated the holographic dials on his bio-amp for the third time since stepping aboard the transport that would take them to the Yaska. The century old gunship would be transporting the platoon that was to accompany the recovery team aboard the Heiroc. Next to him sat Rikka, his bunkie and now squad-mate as well. To his left, a row of soldiers sat silent, many fidgeting with their rifles or sidearms.

The team's squad-leader, Sergeant Brasc'Nerril vas Yaska, stood at the front of the deck, back to the stars, watching his soldiers intently. Nolta let out a sigh. He knew that they were unlikely to run into any geth, provided they kept a low profile, and it was this simple fact that had him question the necessity of bringing such a large force. There had to be more going on here than a simple escort mission.

"Alright folks, we're coming into dock with the Yaska, buckle out." The pilot's instruction was obeyed in short order by the sound of the seat harnesses in the cabin being declasped. Some of the soldiers made to get out of their seats, but Brasc caught their glances and shook his head, signaling them to remain seated. The transport craft jerked roughly as it came into contact with the gunship and the sound of the docking clamps engaging rang through the hull.

Brasc held a hand up to the side of his helmet listening to some silent transmission from the pilot. A moment later, the hand came down and the Sergeant's rough voice boomed through the cabin. "Alright boys and girls, on your feet, double file into the airlock, six cross at a time."

Following the Sergeant's command, Nolta fell in line behind the soldier to his left. "You think we'll have to do any actual fighting?" Rikka whispered.

Nerril caught the young woman's question. "I want silence in the ranks; you can talk 'till your faceplate falls off once we're en route."

The marines silently marched into the next room and Nolta watched as the first six of them disappeared behind the airlock doors. One more group of six entered the lock after it opened before it was Nolta's turn. The young biotic watched as the thin UV decontamination lines trailed across the room, briefly bathing each crewmember in white. He couldn't help but notice Rikka's figure as the decon light traveled across her suit.

As soon as his eyes had worked their way back up to her mask he noted that her eyes were larger than usual. Rikka quickly broke the gaze and shifted uncomfortably, bringing an arm across her chest to touch her shoulder. A soft trio of beeps sounded and Nolta tasted the crisp, cold, sterile air of the gunship as the airlock doors opened.

"Welcome aboard the Yaska, Corporal." Sergeant Brasc gestured to the interior of the crew deck.

Nolta turned his head sharply only to find that he was the last in line. "I'm sorry ser, Corporal?"

"Yep" Brasc nodded. "Higher-ups figured you should get a mild taste of command on the trip."

"Et doesn't feel right, ser, I haven't done enethen' t' ern et."

"Your drill sergeant disagrees, anyways, there's a chance you'll get to prove yourself out there."

The gunship's pilot was used to leading escort missions, both for mining operations and salvage jobs. This trip was only different in that there was confirmed hostile presence in the target system. Not that that would be a problem, the Yaska was a heavily armed ship of war. "Navigation control, this is gunship Yaska requesting departure clearance and a vector."

"Copy that, Yaska." A moment later a new voice sounded over the radio. "Gunship Yaska, this is navigation control, you are cleared for departure, uploading the vector to your navcom now. Shäin Alon.*"

"Copy navigation control, Keelah Se'lai."

A few minutes' drifting along the provided course brought the vessel alongside the Heiroc and both ships jumped to the system's nearest mass relay. Even with the internal compensators, everyone aboard the two craft felt the near instantaneous acceleration and subsequent dissipation as they arrived in system.

*Good Hunting

Author's Note:

I hope to incorporate more quarian phrases in the next several chapters, the hope being a more authentic presentation of the way the characters talk. On a side note, it took me this long to get the chapter up because I've been sick. At least it's finally reached the first part of the story that I've been looking forward to.