Jima, Julland, Lucas and Dr. Hiprotos watched the footage from the computer recordings of the flyby Lucas had finished. Of most interest were the small dark figures that seemed to walk on all fours that were sparsely scattered all over the abandoned village. Dr. Hiprotos scratched his chin.
"They don't look anything like the indigenous wildlife we were informed on expecting in this area." the physician muttered.
"I have Dolphos running an information search. My only concern is that if he hasn't found anything now, it probably won't be anything normal." Julland informed.
Lucas squinted at the video recordings. He had not been able to get a decent look at any of the wildlife, even with his optical implants. However, the figures he saw reminded him of a large dog or small bear. Perhaps not as robust as a bear though the paws looked a little bigger but he couldn't say for sure.
"Another question is that of the hole in the fields. That simply was not there before." Hiprotos said, sounding a bit puzzled.
"I doubt you could have missed it." Jima speculated.
"Nope. And then the question of is what happened to Eulias and Siera? There is no sign of them." the chief doctor continued.
"Perhaps that hole leads underground and their radios are having trouble getting through?" Lucas offered though his countenance showed even he knew he was pressing it.
"I highly doubt it." Hiprotos grumbled.
"Lucas might be onto something, though..." Jima muttered.
"Well, we've done all the investigating we can. The only thing left to do is send an actual search party." Julland stated.
"Yeah? Who?" Hiprotos demanded.
"Good question."
--
Pelona and Harrvok continued their work in the labs. They knew how the contagion acted and killed its victims. It simply targeted the central nervous system, wrecking havoc on the brain until the organ simply did not have enough neural connections to the body. Once the major areas that controlled vital systems,: respiration, digestion and cardiovascular activity to name a few, were sufficiently ravaged, the victim simply dropped out and died. There seemed to be no particular pattern to the pathogen's path, it was simply whole sale destruction. Unfortunately, that was about as much as they knew and they had little to else to guess on what exactly it was.
"You think its a parasite?" Harrvok asked as he continued to load samples that would grow bacteria cultures. Hopefully they could find a foreign strain which would then hopefully be the contagion.
"Doubt it. I'm almost certain we would have seen it already under a microscope." Pelona replied, her thin frame glasses shining as she monitored each of the lab rat cages, hoping to find any that seemed diseased or debilitated. Nothing.
"So what do you think then?" the Turian's metallic voice rang with curiosity.
"If I were to guess, I'd say viral but I'm not sure." Pelona murmured.
The two doctors continued to work at a steady but determined pace. The sooner they had this figured out, the better. However, there was one nagging feeling gnawing right above Pelona's stomach. She was terribly afraid to ask but she was also badly needed to know the answer. Her resolve kept rising up and flinching like a courage deprived mouse trying to peek out of its hole and scurrying back at the simple glance of the light. Finally, her desperation to know won out.
"Harrvok..." Pelona started quietly.
"Yes?" the Turian replied. He noticed Pelona had become rather still, her breathing shallow. She looked so small.
"What you said...the other night...did you really mean that?" the Asari asked barely above a whisper.
"Yes. Yes I did." Harrvok answered, just as quiet but not lacking in resolve.
"You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" Pelona inquired. She had to know, she did not want to be getting her hopes up needlessly. The problem was that she feared she already had. It would be devastating to get crushed if this was all a farce.
"No. Why would I do that to you?" the Turian answered quickly, almost appearing to bolt at the thought.
"I...I...I don't know." Pelona frowned, now looking at the Turian over her shoulder. Maybe she had confidence issues. She had to admit, ever since that night she started to see him in a new light. Was it just now that she realized that as far as most Turians she had seen he actually appeared handsome? She mentally kicked herself, she was suppose to be trying not get her hopes up.
"Pelona, I meant what I said...but um, we better keep to work. We'll talk about it more when we get back to the Citadel, after all of this, all right?" Harrvok reassured.
"All right..." Pelona murmured, trying to hide a slight smile. Speaking of work, she suddenly realized something.
"Harrvok, what happened to the rat feed?"
"Supplies ran out. I've got a few minions now working on getting local vegetation for the rats. They should be in that box over there." the Turian pointed to the appropriate container.
"Right. There just has to be something that we run short on." Pelona rolled her eyes as she took a handful of the dark green leaves and placed it in the rat cages.
--
Lucas appeared quiet, relaxed, and any passerby would probably have believed him to be praying or meditating in the afternoon rays of the sun as he sat in his open cockpit. Truth be told, the Alliance pilot and special forces ranger was giddy and it was threatening to erupt out of that calm exterior. Sure, a more reverent environment like a chapel would have probably appealed more to his spiritual side, but sometimes you had to be back down to earth. First, it was good to be out of the strategic planning going on in the Shiloh. Second, he was enjoying the warmth on his face, the quiet weather, the gentle breeze, the feel of a powerful and graceful fighter craft under him and the beautiful woman he was engaged to was skillfully re-tuning his craft. Sure, it was cheesy and overtly sentimental but he didn't care. He was the luckiest guy in the galaxy.
"What are you smiling about?" Dalora giggled as she hoisted herself onto the wing and approached him.
"Ah...eh, nothing. Just enjoying the day...and your company." Lucas answered.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Besides, I know my fighter is in good hands when you've taken care of it." Lucas complimented.
"Thanks. Of course, you sung a different tune the first time I took care of it." Dalora chided playfully.
"Hey, of all my workspaces, this one is the most technical. I need to know everything about it from the slightly delayed mass effect generator when I want it to hover, to the mildly sensitive cannon trigger, to the beautiful mechanic who takes care of everything." "For the love of St. Francis, stop flirting, Lucas!" the pilot kicked himself.
"Hmm, that's nice to know." Dalora said as she leaned against the open canopy.
"You getting along with all the Asari crewmen? I remember you being a little alienated from them the last time we were in similar circumstances." Lucas asked.
"I'm doing just fine with them."
"You know, maybe you should get to know them better." Lucas suggested.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you are part Asari, even if you're genetics made an interesting variation and turned you into a human with Asari characteristics rather than vice versa." Lucas shrugged. Indeed, that was the very reason Dalora was such a powerful biotic who did not need an amp, which in turn had its own pros and cons.
"So you're telling me I should discover my roots?" Dalora asked.
"Exactly."
"We don't know who my Asari ancestor was, Lucas." Dalora reminded.
"I know, but you could at least learn about the culture more." Lucas suggested. Dalora responded with a wry smile.
"That's one of the things I like about you. You come up with strange ideas, but they're actually okay one you think them through." Before Lucas could respond, the communications array on his fighter blared with Julland's voice.
"Lieutenant, I need you up in the air now!" Lucas made a shooing motion with his arm and Dalora immediately scampered off the craft and found cover. Lucas slammed his canopy down and fired the mass effect generator.
"What's going, Commander?" Lucas asked as the fighter started to hover and levitate off the ground.
"Dolphos has picked up three hostile contacts. They are all fighters of unknown model. We're patching the information to you now. You must take care of them, Lieutenant." Julland ordered.
"Roger. Pray they aren't interceptors." Lucas responded.
Lucas kept a watchful eye on the added radar information as his fighter screamed towards the contacts. His targeting computer suddenly warned him that his had a missile lock on all three targets. Lucas intentionally ignored that. He waited until he saw three distant specks on his canopy. It was only then did he hit the trigger.
Three dangerous white trails erupted from the missile banks at the base of the wings. The pilot made a begrudging note that he only had four of those left. As expected, he watched all three crafts react accordingly, taking evasive maneuvers and firing off their decoys.
"Amateurs." Lucas muttered as he zeroed in on the center one. He was pleased that they all seemed to be fighters like his own. At least that made things easier.
--
Dorian McDowell understood that despite all the information he knew, he could not help the incompetence of the pilots under him, either that or the superior experience of their lone opponent. Even the electronic display maps that gave the mercenary information commander the high definition readouts loudly screamed the terror and anxiety that was in his pilot's hearts. Regardless of the three mercenary pilot's best maneuvers, this lone fighter pilot seemed to know what he was doing. Ignoring the panicked cries of the pilots coming from the communication's link, McDowell tried to gather as much information as he could about their opponent. The computer was deciphering information at a steady pace. He wished it would have worked faster.
"Fighter...Alliance model...the maneuverability is a bit better than standard, must be customized then...serial number..." McDowell muttered the information out loud as it was given to him.
"Someone figure out who that fighter is registered to." McDowell commanded to one of the techs at his command. One of them meekly indicated that he would take care of it. A sudden hiss of static punctuated the communication link before drowning in another pilot's voice. McDowell already understood what was going to be told to him.
"Pilot down, pilot down! He got Carter!"
"Calm down and put more pressure on him. There are still two of you against him." McDowell stated firmly. He was still pretty certain along with the other pilots that their opponent would still win though. He had to keep prolonging the fight if only to salvage more information from their enemy now. It would be the only thing to make up for the inevitable losses that would follow.
"Arrrggg-"
"Dobson is down! I'm turning around!"
McDowell cursed at the cowardice of his last pilot but decided to prepare for the inevitable. He considered killing this last guy himself if and when he landed. He almost hoped the intruding pilot would take care of that for him.
"Prepare the anti-aircraft weapons. Be ready to shoot that fighter down when it gets here." McDowell ordered. The surrounding technicians started hammering away, plugging the proper orders into the computers
--
Angel of war, angel of judgment. Lucas thought on this as he chased the fleeing mercenary fighter. He marveled on how his mind could be so determined one second and then have just a stray splinter of it still brooding away. He had started in the priesthood, studying to be ordained into one of the most ancient of spiritual institutions, the present embodiment of the Roman Catholic, universal, Church. Somewhere along the way his course shifted. Somewhere along the way, he became a soldier. However, the would be priest was still in there. Somewhere. He heard him speaking every now and then. It certainly explained a lot, why he refused to curse his enemies, why he refused to pronounce damnation upon them. After all, who was he, a mere mortal, to judge his fellow mortal to eternal condemnation? Was not this lesser hell called a "screwed up world" hell enough? Oh, how he wished that there could be a way that the races of sentient beings would one day beat their swords into the dust and study war no more. He hoped that that day would come. Unfortunately, things would have to be different until then. Until that day came, he would have to be a pilot and special forces ranger. He would have to be one of those few who, though they pulled the trigger, they hoped it wouldn't have had to end that way. He would have to be one of those select few who could choose the right time to show mercy.
Until then, he would have to be an angel of war, angel of judgment. The guns of his fighter spat fire and fury that streaked across the sky.
--
Liana stood in an empty spot of the mercenary headquarters and watched as a lone fighter gave Dorian McDowell a run for his money. The Asari monitored the radar screen and saw the two dots that represented both one of their own mercenary pilots and the enemy as they streaked closer and closer towards the epicenter of thee screen. Unknown to anyone else, the Asari frowned with discomfort at what she was seeing.
Meanwhile, McDowell was barking further orders. He wanted the radio interceptors up so they could track any communications traffic. He wanted that enemy fighter shot down. He also wanted the name of the pilot for whom that fighter was registered to. He needed this information now. His angry charade was momentarily halted by a further flood of communications traffic.
"I can't shake him, I can't get him off my tail! Get him off my-"
"Our last fighter is down, sir." a technician reported.
"I can read the radar, moron." McDowell sneered.
"We have a fix on the communications link. Patching in now!" a technician announced excitedly. They listened to the transmission.
"-taking fire from ground guns. Permission to open fire?"
"Do you see anything else other than anti-aircraft guns?"
"There is a radar and communications uplink."
"Take that out, Lieutenant. That is your primary objective." McDowell was provoked badly.
"All of you, destroy that fighter! Now!" McDowell screamed.
Spurred by the thorny words of their leader, the technicians strained their hardest to guide the guns onto a lock. Somehow, whether by divine intervention, the skill of the pilot, dumb luck, or all three, they could only watch in dismay as the fighter evaded their best efforts. They could only watch the fighter spit out a missile.
"Incoming!" a tech cried. McDowell cursed.
The facility shuddered when an awkward but strong boom reverberated from the top to the bottom of the building. Most of the screen went blank. The only thing left speaking to them was the communications interceptor.
"Target destroyed. I'm getting out of here."
Instead of carrying on, McDowell only became more quiet. He seemed to fold in on himself, almost restraining himself from chewing on the mic of his headset as his mind continued to grind away. He needed to come up with a new plan with this recent turn of events. He needed new information. He got it.
"Sir, I've got a lead on the fighter. It's registered to a Lieutenant Lucas Von Seraph. I've checked his file. Most of it is classified, sir." a tech informed. McDowell came to life again.
"Keep checking it. Download what you can to my computer and I will give you further orders. In the meantime, get the blasted radar fixed!" McDowell barked.
Meanwhile, Liana had been doing some calculating of her own. After hearing the name of the fighter pilot, one could have noticed the decision being made in her mind. It was quiet but it was decisive enough.
--
Dr. Hiprotos sighed as he took a break from his work. It was getting late in the day and he still had to hear about any encouraging news from the other doctors. It also bothered him about the wildlife at the quarantine zone. Who knows what complications that would make now. They could be carrying the disease or be vectors themselves. What if the pathogen mutated in them? What if they carried the disease further away? What if one slipped out of the quarantine zone?
He knew he had a reputation of being extremely anal and was known as being very demanding on his other doctors. There was a reason for that. One of the reasons he was elevated to this position was because he worked in the ER of one of the Citadel's larger hospitals. It was rather easy to recall any hodge podge of multiple blood drenched accidents occurring all at once in the trauma room. In fact, it was hard to recall which cascade of disasters was a single memory and which was actually a conglomerate of memories that streamed together. They became the same after awhile. Some Turian oozing blue blood from some gunshot room. No time to judge him and how he got that because they just got a Salarian who lost his leg in an industrial accident and was going into shock. Nevermind the Human who had stopped breathing even before the Turian got in here, the medics doing CPR could still hold on for awhile more, no matter how much their arms ached. And it all fell to him, Dr. Hiprotos, to make the decisions. Usually he was right, his determined but demanding manner that begged his fellow doctors to hate him but to admire him even more. Occasionally he was wrong and someone had to be carried out in a body bag but there was no time to let that bother him. That was because they just wheeled in an Asari with industrial burns. Nevermind the rest of the bloodied, broken, amputated mess that would show up right behind her tail.
In other words, time was everything in the life and death pendulum that every physician fought against. Sometimes it swung slowly. Dr. Hiprotos was just blessed and cursed with spending too much time working with a faster paced one. When he walked away from it, his beat was already set. Now he was a ticked off metronome screaming an agitated live or die beat that demanded the doctors under him to play in time the macabre symphony or drop out.
Dr. Hiprotos looked up when the door of his rudimentary, makeshift office opened. He found himself once again staring up at Julland, the imposing Turian commander that was effectively taking over the more militant commands.
"I shifted through the records of your personnel for a candidate to help us in the search party." Julland announced in regards to the quarantine zone. Hiprotos raised a hand to indicate a pause.
"Wait. I know we went over this before, but remind me why you're not just sending a couple of your Asari marines?"
"Because your people are more versed in extremely hazardous biological situations than my marines." Julland stated in a sort of deadpan. Hiprotos sighed, still not liking the reason.
"Fine. Who did you choose?" Julland eased a moment before making the announcement. He wanted to reassure this guy that they were all on the same side.
"Hiprotos, I want to remind you that I am not unlike yourself. We both have people under our command. I won't presume to know what circumstances led you to the way you are now, but I have fought in battle. I understand that we don't want to take unnecessary risks. I put the utmost amount of thought into my decision." the Turian reassured.
"I'll take your word for it. Who did you choose?" Hiprotos stated, still keeping up the fast rhythm.
"A former battlefield medic. Harrvok Arvinian."
"Very well, I'll let him know immediately. He will report to your ship once he clears his duties."
--
There was in fact one downside to having the beautiful woman you're in love with who was also the same mechanic that lovingly took care of your fighter. Lucas found this out as he checked his equipment one last time. Julland told him that he was chosen to lead the search party in the quarantine zone to find the missing personnel.
"Lucas!" Dalora called to him from under the wing of his fighter. She sounded agitated. Lucas looked up with a blank stare.
"What?"
"Look at this!" Dalora stated firmly. Still confused, Lucas carefully walked forward.
"What?" he asked again.
"Look at these marks." Dalora grumbled, motioning at the underside of the wing.
Sure enough, there was a series of long and deep gash marks in the composite material of the wing. Lucas recognized them instantly.
"Oh, those are from enemy gun fire. It happens all the time." Lucas shrugged.
"There was also a scorch mark at the base of your tail fin." Dalora added, her arms folded disapprovingly in front of her.
"Yeah, I believe that was when a missile exploded when it hit one of my decoys. The heat must have dissipated through the shield without weakening it." Lucas suggested. Such things were a given in the aviation combat field. The computers in the fighters' guns were designed to fire heavy, dense, element zero modified slugs that were suppose to quickly weaken shields. The missiles were little different. In contrast, Alliance fightercraft shields were made to make smart decisions. If it decided that the incoming round would miss (or perhaps harmlessly grace across the surface of the plane in this case) it wouldn't activate the kinetic barriers. Stray heat from an explosion was also ignored.
"Lucas, you must be more careful!" Dalora scolded. Lucas was at lost with what to say.
"I was. My kinetic barriers barely ever dropped below fifty percent and I don't ever recall seeing it drop below twenty five percent." the pilot shrugged in defense.
"And yet you get these bullet graze marks and the missile blast?" Dalora replied, a skeptical eyebrow raised.
"The computer didn't say anything about them." Lucas answered. Dalora sighed. She knew she was overreacting, but only a little bit. Caution Lucas, caution!
"Honey, just be more careful. I know I modified the shields and computer to work beyond standard requirements but you can't depend on them all the time."
"You're not just mad that you have to replace the composite hull casing, are you?" Lucas smiled mischievously. He knew she was concerned for his well being, but every now and then he had to make light of the situation. Dalora playfully whacked him with her wrench.
"For all the book smarts you got up there, I think you sometimes need a little common sense upgrade." Dalora muttered.
"Hey, I got plenty of common sense. I'm not completely oblivious."Lucas replied, still bantering.
"Oh really? Prove it." Dalora asked skeptically, her hands on her hips. She yelped when Lucas roughly enveloped her in an embrace.
"Well, I know that you're giving me a hard time only because you care about my well being and want me to be safe. I also hope you that I actually appreciate that and I try to do my best even if I can't take it seriously at the moment." Lucas whispered in her ear. Anything further was interrupted by a metallic "ahem." They both looked blankly at Julland who apparently had been there for awhile and had conveniently decided to clear his throat.
"Lucas, I'll be sending you and a certain Harrvok Arvinian into the quarantine zone. You are to leave tomorrow morning at 0600 hours. Arvinian will be here in a few moments so you two can work a battle plan. Dalora, I have decided to launch an attack on the mercenary compound Lucas spotted earlier. They will be trying to repair their radar and communications uplink. We will hit them when they will be at their most vulnerable still trying to repair it. You will be coming with me and two of my marines." the Turian commander announced solemnly.
--
Liana sat idly in the seat at the helm of McDowell's shuttlecraft. The Asari didn't show it, but she knew that Dorian's two goons were standing there in the back with the full intent to keep an eye on her. However, her decision was made. Mercenary work was strictly a decision made on economics with high risks and higher sunk costs which demanded equally high payment. Of course, the supplier always had the choice of terminating the contract. Now it was just a matter of being smart about it. Lazily, she turned the engines on.
"What are you doing?" the one guard asked. Liana ignored him. By now, the ship was already taking off from the ground.
"What are you doing, put us back on the ground now!" the guard bellowed. Liana wasn't stupid. In fact, she started to smile. Out of the three people in this shuttle, she was the only one who had any sense of piloting skills. She heard their footsteps approaching. Without them noticing, she locked in the orders so that the ship continued without her guiding hand. She made sure not to give them the hint of that, though. She was still smiling smugly when she heard their footsteps stop right behind her. She could practically feel them breathing down her back now.
"Put us down, or I will kill you!" the first guard stated. She knew the other guard was the one that was lusting after her. He would have given a slightly modified threat had it been him bellowing. Liana reacted decisively.
The two guards did not see it, but she had a pair of pistols at her hips. In one quick motion she drew them out and brought them back so that they were both knocked to the floor, their face having been hit hard by the pistols.
Just as both of them opened their eyes in shock from their pained grimace, they found Liana staring back at them, standing now with that confounded smile. She was also glowing with a blue aura. The first guard who had been the most vocal figured out what was going to happen and cursed. It was the last thing he said. Liana hurled a biotic throw at him.
The second guard watched as his compatriot was effortlessly flung down the length of the metal floor until he crashed into the wall in the back. He heard a sickening snap and decided it was the man's neck. He rushed to ready one of his weapons but found his arm pinned down by Liana's foot. The Asari was smiling sweetly and stooped down to speak to him quietly. He shivered as he noticed just how innocent and yet foreboding her rich emerald green eyes looked. She spoke softly, almost tenderly to him.
"No hard feelings, sweetheart but you see, it just wouldn't work between us. You see, you're just some rough neck mercenary and I'm just taking a swing at this. I was just bored and wanted to give mercenary work a try. The problem is, as much of a rebel as I am, I have too much, oh, "law" in my blood. Another problem is that I know exactly what's going to happen to Dorian McDowell in the next couple days and I don't want to be around to see it." Liana explained cryptically. The bewildered guard opened his mouth to speak but Liana held a finger to her lips and shushed him. Her smile was sweet and almost apologetic.
"Quiet now, or you'll miss what I have to tell you. Since you've been trying way too hard, even if it was the wrong way, to have your way with me, I might at well at least return the gesture and at least tell you my real name. My name is Nalia D'Sara. You'll never forget it now."
She aimed her pistol and fired.