Chapter Four
"What are you staring at?" Ralik asked as he leaned forward to peer out the viewports, curious as to what Kevin appeared to zoned into.
"What? Oh. Nothing. It was just my first and probably last chance to get to see that famous Illium evening view," he said in a manner more solemn than what Ralik had seen thus far.
"Ah, yes. I can understand. I have seen it many times myself. Always breathtaking. I don't suppose I'll be coming back here anytime soon either. The Eclipse do not forget grudges very easily. Too many asari in their ranks for such offenses to slip the mind over the years."
"I can definitely attest to that. Hey, were you ever able to get that shield design data to the police?"
Ralik looked confused for a moment before lifting a battered left arm, resorting to his omni-tool. The silence was slightly awkward, the would-be tension released only by the short beeps from his browsing the data. After a few seconds, Ralik simply looked up to Kevin and lifted his shoulders with a smile.
"Oops."
"Haha. Well, at least we have some nice shield technology in our hands. Maybe we can sell it for a nice profit or develop it ourselves."
The salarian brought a three-fingered hand to his face in thought.
"Hmm. The challenge in integrating this technology with our hardsuits would be substantial without a proper lab. I like it. I'll dabble with it every now and then and see what I can come up with."
"In the meantime, is there any particular place you want to head to right now? I don't really have a direction from here yet."
"Could. . ." He paused, considering his request. "Could we head to the Citadel? I should probably tell my brother what's going on. That's where I was heading before you interrupted, after all."
"That's as good a destination as any right about now. Terra, plot a course for the Citadel."
"Acknowledged. Course plotted. Engaging FTL drive." Kevin was thankful that Terra was short and to the point when she needed to be.
"Say, why do you call the VI 'Terra', anyways?" Ralik asked as he rubbed his hurt arm.
"Because it's easier than saying 'Technologically Extended and Revised Assistant.' That's why."
"But what does that mean? It's more than just a VI?"
Time for Kevin to dump what he learned.
"Sort of. It's more than a VI in the fact that it does more than simply interface with us. It has some control over the Kellius, albeit limited. For example. It has an autopilot program that follows shipping lanes to whatever the designated destination is. It's not perfect, but it gets the ship from point A to point B without a pilot."
"Intriguing. Limited how, though?"
"I asked the same thing. For instance: you can 'set it and forget it' when going from planet to planet, but you can't use it for combat maneuvering or exploring. It only works on a set of preinstalled data. So basically it'll just find the straightest line to a destination, that straightest line being shipping lanes. And since shipping lanes include mass relays, it includes them in course plotting."
"Fascinating. Advanced VI, but not quite advanced enough to be considered AI in any fundamental aspect. Sounds like it would always be preferable to have a pilot at the controls, however."
"Pretty much. Thing is, neither of us are real pilots, so I'm just making due. At least this way we can go do other things and not be tied to the cockpit—er Bridge. Such as. . . You know. . . Tend our wounds. There's a med bay towards the aft, we should get ourselves some first aid."
"Yes. . . Yes I would like to get that taken care of right away," Ralik's agreement was couple a quick wipe at his face, removing some slowly trickling blood away from his left eye.
Ralik and Kevin cautiously limped their way back to the medical bay of the ship, using each other as support. Both had injuries, but few of them actually drew blood. The injuries they suffered from were more the type to leave really bad bruises, though Kevin did have a trickle of blood flowing from an abrasion on his head, and Ralik suffered a blood leak on the arm he held close to himself earlier in addition to the small bit on his face. Considering what they had just gone through, such minor injuries – while not unheard of – were nothing short of miraculous.
Inside the med bay, three beds were arrayed jutting off the far side wall. Only two of them were close enough to the automated care systems to take advantage of said systems, but that didn't really matter to Kevin. He was content to simply apply some measured amounts of medi-gel to reduce inflammation and steadily heal his wounds. He never liked the idea of a machine being in charge of his well being. At least not while he was conscious. It was a good thing for him that the med bay was suitably stocked with ample medigel and other 'manual' means of care. Once he finished caring for his wounds, he handed Ralik a package of medigel. He accepted after a brief moment, as he was still cleaning his few open wounds.
"Ralik, you never told me how you came to have all this infiltration, recon and data mining skills. Now is as good a time as any, right?" Kevin moved over to the third unmonitored bed and sat on it. It was high enough that even his fully grown man-legs couldn't reach the floor without sitting on the very edge, so he let his feet dangle.
"Yes yes, I suppose a bit of an explanation is in order. It is only natural, seeing as how we are now both crew mates. Likewise, I expect a similar story on how you honed your biotics and pistol aim." A few more dabs at his wounds with the medigel and the soothing nature fell over any injuries within seconds. Now more relaxed, Ralik continued.
"I spent a some time in the salarian Special Tasks Group."
"The STG. I should have known."
Ralik nodded once. "I found their operations most fascinating, and I found myself desiring their admirable skills and determination. I spent two years training under their guidance, specializing in reconnaissance and field study. Hmm, I suppose you could think of me as a combat-ready researcher." As always and like all salarians, he spoke undeniably fast. Fast, but clear and comprehendable.
"So if you were with the STG, why did you leave?"
The large black pupils surrounded by the deep green of Ralik's eyes fell to the floor, but only for a moment. A hesitation, likely meaning he wasn't proud about what he was about to say.
"I was. . . Honorably removed." He tapped his fingers together in a bit of nervousness. "Allow me to explain."
"I haven't made judgments, Ralik. Just tell me your story." Kevin was never exactly good at being empathetic.
"Right. Of course. You see, I have a rare mental condition, conveniently and casually explained by doctors as a 'chronic chemical abnormality'. Essentially, when other salarians can mentally prepare themselves and get things done ahead of time, as is the norm, I cannot. I. . ." He let out a quick sigh, finally giving in to finishing the explanation. "I hesitate. Not just a normal split second hesitation. It takes me far more time than almost any salarian to be prepared to do what needs to be done. Once I am in the situation I can function as normal as any other, but the problem for me comes before the action starts or is taken."
"That's it?" Kevin stared at Ralik with more or less a look of disbelief. "That's why you were discharged from the STG? You're yanking me. Everybody hesitates."
"You clearly do not understand the rudimentary fundamentals of the Special Tasks Group, Kevin. We- They specialize in taking care of situations long before they arise or escalate." Ralik began to pace as he fervently explained. "They work without hesitation, taking care of special tasks long before the enemy even knows how to retaliate or defend themselves. It is because I take so long to get into the mental state of readiness to execute the plans set down that I was discharged. Taking care of business once everything has started is easy, I have no issues there. My problem is getting started, and that simply will not fit into the STG's agenda."
"I think I get it now. But wait, you didn't have any issue back on Illium," Kevin argued, thinking back to the car chase.
"Are you referring to the car chase or my infiltration of the Eclipse base?" Ralik inquired.
"Well, both," casually stated as he leaned back on the bed.
"The Eclipse infiltration took me several weeks to prepare for. About one quarter of the time spent preparing was actual planning, information gathering, so on and so forth. The rest was. . . Mental preparation. As for the car incident, I hardly had time to hesitate. Before I knew it, our cab driver was dead and you were shouting at me to take the controls. I was already in the situation."
"I see. Alright, I get it." It was now clear to Kevin why Ralik was discharged and why for a salarian this could pose an issue. For a race that only lives for and average of forty years, any moment of uncontrolled hesitation is seen as a disability. Time to them was extremely precious, and hesitation was wasted time.
"Your turn, Kevin." Ralik sat back down on the bed with another sigh. This sigh was different from the others, however. It was more a sigh of relief, having gotten something so potentially embarrassing off of his shoulders.
"Alright," Kevin started, "where to begin. I suppose I could start with my biotics. The details about that are sketchy at best, I can hardly remember my younger days and I haven't plugged in my data storage yet."
"Data storage?"
"I'll get to that as I explain."
Kevin began to explain his brief background to the salarian starting with his biotics, at least as much as he could actively remember. He explained that even as a kid, his learning curve with biotics in comparison to other children was different. It ascended more sharply than with other kids. He was learning how to control his biotics faster than the others, and he ended up having 'special' attendants because of it. He vaguely remembered being placed in quarters in a different area of some facility, away from the other kids. He wasn't isolated, however. Kevin attended classes the same as anyone else, was treated the same as anyone else and interacted the same as anyone else. He never actually discovered why he was separated while he was there.
He was only at the facility for a couple more years, until he was about fourteen. That's when he felt his first major headache – the kind that put him on the floor. He didn't even realize there were three attendants in his room until after the initial wave of pain was finished. It was at that point that his parents, who had been inexplicably – at least to him – absent for the past several years decided to make a visit. He wasn't allowed into the room his parents were talking to the staff in, but there were raised voices. Eventually, the day ended with him packing his things and being taken off of the facility by his parents. It was only after he left that he was told that there were five other kids specifically separated like he was, but on different floors. He and his attendants in the years past had been noticing a slight bit of memory loss during Kevin's day to day. As a going away gift, Kevin's attendant had given him a flash data device with a couple petabytes worth of space on it in order for him to keep track of his own daily activities.
Kevin's life with his parents, while he didn't bother to detail this to Ralik, was a tough moment in his life. He had just started his teenage years with a mixed education of biotic ability, biotic society, and a plethora of typical academic studies. He was an only child, and as such his parents were having an increasingly difficult time adjusting to having a son in the house. It was clear they weren't used to being parents. They made him take memory enhancing supplements to counter his occasional memory loss. Academic wise, Kevin proceeded to attend non-biotic classes at a high school back on Earth. He finished his classes there on the honor roll with scholarships in hand, ready to move on to post-graduate education.
Kevin didn't want to attend more classes, however. He was more interested in life outside the colonies and the Local Cluster. At eighteen, he enrolled in the Alliance military. The training he took there lasted almost an entire year. After that, since he was listed as a biotic, he followed up into a brand new first-year military biotic training regimen for another year. This is where his past quick learning experiences with biotics paid off. By then, he was considered a natural at biotics. His skills weren't anything like they are now, but compared to the other biotics undergoing military training, he was listed as 'exceptional'. Kevin was old enough by this time to realize that this was due to the fact that he learned quicker than his peers at such a young age and not because he was necessarily better at biotics than anyone.
There was also concern. The other biotics had 'readings' taken every so many days. They all acted as if having a needled stabbed into the back of the head was a normal, typical thing that they all had come to expect was part of biotic life. Kevin didn't ever remember having a needle stuck into the back of his head to take readings. Not once. For the first time, Kevin began to wonder if there was something wrong with him.
Nevertheless, Kevin performed well in the training. About two months into the new training regimen, five more biotics were flown in from off-world: three female and two male. All of them were around his age, and had taken some previous form of biotic training like he had. One of them had even become his first real best friend since high school. His name was Xavier Toreles, and they shared the remaining time of the biotic training together as squadmates. Even outside training they were inseparable.
The training was tough. Their instructor was stone cold and was as rigid as they come. The results had to be better than expected since this was essentially the Alliance Military's trial run with this newly developed regimen, so they put extra effort into making each of them the best biotic they could be. They were taught new biotic skills, like the ability to change the direction of certain biotic skills mid-use using dark energy to repulse the fields they were creating. They called this technique 'curving', and it was most noticeable with a biotic throw or pull when direction meant everything. Other advanced and experimental techniques were gaining popularity through this regimen as well, like enveloping oneself in a mass effect field to make movement extremely fast and effortless. The more powerful biotics could produce waves of dark energy that had such force behind them that they were likened to a fully loaded freight train. And then there was the well known grand-daddy of biotics: The Singularity. A point in space where a powerful mass effect was generated to create near infinite mass. Such a feat was exhausting and dangerous, both to the one creating the singularity as well as the people in the general area.
Some biotics experienced a temporary amplifier shutdown after creating or attempting to create these spectacles of sheer biotic control, which usually resulted in instant mental exhaustion and, subsequently, a blackout. Their biotic amps were wired to automatically disable themselves if it was detected that there was either too much stress on the brain or nervous system, or if the amps were being overused. These safety protocols were regularly adjusted over the life of a biotic to match their body's specific tendencies and to greatly reduce the chance of this happening, but even then they were still prone to the rare temporary shutdown if they pushed themselves too far. Biotics were still considered rare among the human race and every one was precious. Safety features were an integral step in keeping biotics from accidental dark energy suicide.
After the announced success of the regimen, it was made standard for all military biotics, and the training was also adopted by tutors as well. Soon after the final ceremony, Kevin and the five biotics flown in from off-world were pulled aside and contacted by an unknown figure, claiming to be a spec ops military branch in need of extremely skilled biotics. The statement from the male was clear: they were now working for him. This extremely vague turn of events obviously didn't sit well with most of the six, though a couple were intrigued. Two agreed and the remaining declined to oblige. Those that turned the figure down were surprisingly let off without any hassle. After that, everyone in the program went their separate ways, most off to varying starships to serve with the Alliance Fleet. Kevin and Xavier also went in different directions, though they kept in touch.
Kevin only served with the Alliance for another year. He decided to leave after a nasty turn of events which he decided not to recall for Ralik. Following this, he moved from Terminus System to Terminus System, freelancing as a gun for hire. He picked up his title of 'assassin' when he found that a number of his deals to kill people fell upon moderately high value individuals. From batarian company CEOs to volus trademasters. Some of the people he was hired to take out were very, very specific people whose details were intelligently withheld from the ex-STG member. This is about where Kevin decided to leave off. There was a three minute silence before Ralik got up and stretched.
"Sorry, Ralik," Kevin apologized, "Didn't mean to give you the long version. Just been a while since I've had a chance to recap my winding past, I guess."
"No worries, Kevin. This gives me helpful insight into your past with which I can now exploit for my personal gain."
Kevin let out a dry, false laugh. "That's not even funny. I know you know how to be dangerous with information."
"And yet you pour it out almost without restraint! Some key elements were left out, but I certainly have enough information now to-"
Kevin suddenly cut Ralik short by grabbing his pistol from his waist and held it pointed at the salarian before it had even finished unfolding. "Looks like I slipped up," he muttered with dire seriousness. "Gotta kill you now."
Ralik's first reaction was surprise and alarm, coupled with a sudden readiness to react quickly and violently – a product of STG training. That split second of emotion fell away as soon as he noticed a fatal flaw in Kevin's form.
"The safety's on," Ralik calmly stated with a small point to the error.
Kevin's convincing guise fell away as he lowered the gun with a smile. "Yeah, I know. Had you going for a second there, though." The pistol collapsed and was once again returned to the holster on his waist.
"I wouldn't try that again. Never know what an ex-STG will do, yes?" Ralik waved one of three fingers of his right hand at the human in light-hearted chastisement.
"Yeah yeah yeah. Anyways, now that we've exchanged friendly threats and shared our life stories, why not grab a bite to eat? I don't know what's in the mess as far as salarian cuisine, but I'm sure something can be worked out. Plus if we have time I can give you a brief tour of the ship. A quick low-dose injection of medi-gel will take care of internal injuries in a snap."
Ralik nodded before looking up to the ceiling. "Terra, please confirm the remaining time until we reach the Citadel."
A slight chime sounded before Terra's synthetic voice gave Ralik his answer. "Approximately two hours until we arrive at the Citadel, Ralik."
"Thank you," Ralik quickly countered.
"Did you just thank a VI?" Kevin asked, humorously astounded.
"It doesn't hurt to show a little manners, even in the presence of a program," the salarian mocked. "Does it, Mr. Folner?"
"Geez. I swear, if you start having conversations with it, I'm pulling the plug," Kevin added while shaking his head before giving himself a quick injection and heading for the door to make his way out of the med bay.
"I do look forward to exploring the depth of Terra's interface programming," Ralik said, continuing to play Kevin as he followed him out.
"Okay, even from a salarian that's just wrong."
After the short meal consisting of rations and a tour of the ship, Ralik decided to resign to the engine room for the time being. He mentioned not having a chance to investigate a Tantalus dive core in person and wanted some time to observe its systems before they docked at the Citadel. Kevin decided to retreat to the oxymoronic confines of his quarters at the aft of the ship. He had plugged his flash device into the terminal on the desk in the back of the room, as he wanted to upload some of his data to the ship for easier access. Among the eighty-five terabytes worth of data being uploaded, he picked out a few files that he flagged as important. The comment for the files that he had placed on it read: 'These files contain info about my origins, reference these when the memories lock out again.'
The files were a small mix of log entries, data recordings and a few cipher locked notes that he had tried to break, but was thus far incapable. The first log was an audio recording. The video that went with the recordings had gotten corrupted at some point during the transfer when he obtained it, but the audio was entirely salvageable. Tilting his head, Kevin played the log over the master quarters sound emitters.
"Log six." A man with a mid toned voice and slight accent of Irish decent spoke. "Time reference – only days away from the expected births of the test subjects. The road has been long, and the cost. . . Unthinkable. Of the thirty-five original hosts, only eight have progressed through the dangerous initial exposure and subsequent consequences and still remain considerably healthy. The twenty-seven others died in stillbirth from a staggering variety of mutations and health problems. The mothers of those that died either suffered irreversible genetic damage or died within the month. The staff of the project remains optimistic, however. The additional genetic modifications made to these subjects should make the individuals viable after birth. Unfortunately, the chance of critical system failure within each individual will remain high until their third year, at which point the chances of them seeing a full life increases by an estimated forty percent. At least by then, their systems should completely adapt to the element zero deposits. How their nervous system handles these increased size deposits will be a top study priority. McRoilie out."
Kevin furrowed his brows. He knew that he had heard this report before, but he couldn't actually recall any of it, or how many times he had heard it before. There was a text document included in the files that had no significant title, but when opened it read: Number of times these logs have been looked at (Increase by 1 each time you review these files): 23. Kevin upped the number to twenty-four and closed the otherwise blank text document, continuing onto the next audio file.
"Log eight. Time reference – three months following the births of the project individuals. We were fortunate enough that the mothers of all eight subjects survived thus far. Unfortunately, two of the subjects had died only a week after birth. What we believe to be the cause was our own fault. The cause of death in those two subjects was internal brain damage and scarring. It seems some of the additional genetic code we had deployed did not develop properly in the fetus, and the brain was damaged extensively by the enhanced neurological state of the body.
"Moving back to the more positive part of my report, the surviving subjects have been given names by their mothers, which they will carry with them even outside this facility once the introductory phase has completed. The six remaining subjects so far seem medically healthy, aside from excessive crying. We believe this to be a side effect from the modifications as their brain continues to adapt to the increase in neurological intensity. I and the rest of the team look forward to the next several years of research. McRoilie out."
Kevin sat back after the log finished and interlaced the fingers of his hands together behind his head. If there was one thing he didn't like about these logs, it was the fact that not a single one of them had any documented or mentioned date. Every log and data entry 'date' was a time reference relative to other entries, which made figuring out the full scale timeline downright frustrating. He looked at his clock and realized he only had time to listen to one more audio log before they were within the Serpent Nebula and only minutes away from the Citadel. Leaning forward, he played a log towards the end of the audio entries.
"Log ninety-two. Time reference – day omega. Today is the final day that the children will be at our facility. From here, they will be given a measured dose of amnesiac meds in order to prevent any of the kids from mentioning this place or any of our staff – including the mothers. It is currently not known how this drug will affect their minds upon maturity, though we fully expect that the side effects, if any, will be absolutely minimal. Once the kids have been given the drugs and put to sleep, they will then be moved to the Alliance military and civilian joint effort called the Ascension Project. There they will continue to be monitored by a very select and careful staff, handpicked to assist with these particular individuals.
"I. . . I am sad to see them go. Many of the staff, myself included, have grown somewhat attached to the children. We were warned about this attachment, but we know better to keep it in check. At the most, some tears will be shed at the conclusion of this project. The mothers will remain here on the facility for now, for final study to see what effects the eezo exposure might have had since then. We are declaring the introductory phase of this project a success. McRoilie out."
Kevin sighed, frustrated. He had looked into the Ascension Project in the past, and found that he did indeed get enrolled there as a child. This, however, was not enough to make any connection. Unfortunately, almost all the files on the children who went there were rather classified, aside from academics. He still knew nothing. He didn't have a way to get those files, either. They were kept on heavily secured servers aboard the Grissom Acadamy, which is a very different place from where he got his current information.
"Mister Folner," Terra's synthesized voice sounded, almost making him jump, "we are five minutes from the Citadel."
"Don't call me that," he replied callously.
"What would like this system to address you as?" Terra formally inquired.
"Just call me. . ." Kevin had to stop and think about it for a second. Why was it so difficult for him to get used to a VI interacting with him? It was what they were programmed to do. After a slight pause, he finally acquiesced. "Just call me Kevin."
"Very well, Kevin."
Kevin shuddered a bit. That was going to take some getting used to. It was at this point that he remembered that he still had to make some 'adjustments' to the ship registration program to keep it from automatically sending out the registration changes. He quickly browsed his password protected personal files archive and picked out a single basic program. Upon running it, a small box appeared with the words 'Scanning, please wait. . .' on it. They quickly reverted to a new box that had a lot of technical information on it.
Kevin was familiar with this area by now, the only things that tended to change among human-built ships were certain flag locations and variables. Normally this area in the system would be completely unaccessible. Ships weren't even programmed to display this information, since the only people typically qualified to do anything in this area were the engineers who built or designed the ship. Kevin was one step ahead, though. The program he ran had the code to organize and display it in a useful manner. Once the internal firewalls were decrypted and temporarily disabled via a subtle programming loophole, Kevin was free to browse the most technically complex and dangerous area of the ship's systems: the kernel and system registry. Altering the wrong thing here could lead to an immediate ship lockdown due to run-time errors generated from making stupid changes. Kevin had the simple task of changing only one boolean, though, and knew better than to mess with anything else. Once he navigated to where the boolean rested, he changed it from zero to one. This was the equivalent of 'Registry changes sent to the server', and changing the boolean to true ensured that the system knew that the changes were already sent and did not need to be sent again. A classic example of an age old truth: if it is digital, it can be cracked.
Kevin cracked his knuckles and saved the changes. The program automatically altered the rollback version of the registry entry so that if the system ended up detecting the unauthorized change, the rollback version that it applied would be the very thing it hoped to remove. Satisfied that the deed was done, he closed down his program and kicked the rolling chair back.
"Terra, I'm on my way to the bridge. Have the haptics up for me."
"Acknowledged."
Kevin stood from his chair and bent over the desk to close any and all files currently open on the terminal. His data had finished uploading to the ship's storage, so he grabbed his flash storage unit and dropped it into one of his higher up pockets. He only paused for a couple more seconds to take another brief look at the terminal before turning and heading out of his room.