Chapter 9
"Captain Kortel, what should we be setting for a destination?" Kevin asked, turning from the viewports to face her.
"Hmm." Kortel paused to think a moment. "Normally I'd say to drop us off on a station for pickup, but. . . This crew has endured enough. Set a course for the Raheel-Layya system within the Valhallan Threshold."
"Captain!" Tavval called out in protest.
"Not now, Tavval. We don't have much for supplies as it is," the captain replied.
"I take it we're going. . ." Kevin mentioned, stopping himself just short of making his guess.
"Yes," the captain answered, "we're going right to the Migrant Fleet."
"That takes us away from the An'Ramini expanse, Kevin," Ralik reminded. His statement was promptly corrected by an armored slap on the back of his head courtesy of his shipmate.
"What, you thought I was serious? Yes yes, course is laid. We're changing direction now." Ralik shook his head and stood from the pilots chair.
Without further ado, the salarian made his way to a seat surrounding the briefing table in order to join the growing party back there. Now that Rolush and Welkas had arrived, all but Kevin, the captain and Tavval were in the briefing room, but that was soon to change. After the remaining three joined the group in the briefing room, the captain slapped her hands together.
"I suppose now is as good a time as any for introductions, hm? Marines, these are our saviors." First she pointed to the salarian. "Ralik. . ."
". . . Dolannus," he said, helping her finish his name since he knew she didn't know the full thing. "Ralik Dolannus. Greetings."
"And you have all have at least seen this one help us out planet-side," the captain mentioned while pointing to Kevin who was only now removing his helmet. "Kevin Folner."
"You have our sincerest gratitude, Mr. Folner," Tyr chimed in as he took a seat to rest his leg.
Kevin didn't say anything, but simply bowed his head in return. Meanwhile, the captain was crossing the room in order to join her compatriots.
"Line up, marines. By rank. Welkas, by me. And for the love of Keelah, don't make Garloh stand up."
As ordered, the quarians all lined up according to rank based on where Tyr was so he didn't have to move. They moved with an organized haste Kevin had never witnessed in quarians before, and it reminded him of the Alliance. When they finished setting themselves in line they stood in order left to right by rank. The first quarian in line was slightly shorter than most of the others, but not the shortest, and he was one of the two that Kevin hadn't already put a name to.
"State your rank and name for the captain of the Kellius," Kortel ordered. The first quarian on the left stepped forward with a practiced stance.
"Serviceman Second Class Kar'Welkas of the Migrant Fleet Marines!" While it wasn't a shout per say, it was louder than a simple casual introduction. He donned a classic exo-suit with a dark-blue helmet face. There was a noticeably smaller coverage of colored cloths covering the gray of his suit, but the aqua, olive and turquoise colors were easily distinguishable. When he was finished, he stepped backwards into line so that captain Kortel could continue.
"Kar'Welkas is fresh off of the Migrant Fleet training regimen. He ended up staying an extra year in training due to his perceived passion for piloting. He was transferred to our ship, the Forverna, to be our pilot for this mission. We primarily have him to thank for getting the ship down as softly as a crash could be. His skills at the helm are more than notable."
Once she finished her introduction of Kar'Welkas, Kortel moved on to the second, and shortest quarian of the bunch. This was the quarian with massive rocket launcher strapped to her back the Kevin had initially met inside the shell. The captain motioned with a hand for her to do as Welkas did and she stepped forward.
"Private First Class Bela'Merni of the Migrant Fleet Marines!" This one's accent was heavier than any other quarian that actually spoke in the common trade language on the ship, but it was still easily understandable. Her exo-suit was more modified than Welkas', having a large number of straps and hooks with dangling gear around her waist and mid-section going to her shoulder in addition to large pockets on the sides of her legs outside of her armor. Consequently, she jingled when she moved. Her cloths were equally bold, as she sported a mix of bright colors. Pale pink and blaring crimson wrapped around her limbs were dominated by the deep and profound blue she wore as a hood and over her torso under the gear. Kevin wondered why such a small quarian was tasked with carrying the largest gear. Kortel began to explain before Kevin could mull on it for long.
"Bela'Merni is, as you likely have guessed by now, our heavy weapons expert. Strangely, she is also the youngest quarian I know of to have such a fascination with such a proficiency. She holds well, though. The Merni clan has generally been well known for maintaining weaponry of a large scale, namely the weapons of various Migrant Fleet vessels, and keeping things like her beloved launcher in good repair. She also likes explosions."
"She's awfully little for that kind of task, isn't she? No offense intended, but wouldn't she tire out easily just from lugging so much gear around?"
Kortel was about to make a statement, but was quickly cut of by Bela.
"I'll fill you in on a little Merni clan adage, Folner. 'Don't judge me by my size, judge me by the size of my gun.'"
Kortel gave Bela a brief stare and the little fireball quieted down. Meanwhile, Kevin turned his eyes to the almost ridiculous contrast of the small quarian and the big gun on her back. He quickly understood why they had such an adage.
"The Merni clan is also well known for having a slight lack in discipline, made up by quite a bit of. . . spark."
"I take it back. Big things in small packages, huh? I bet she's the life of most parties."
Bela shook her head in hardly contained silence while all the other quarians simultaneously chuckled. Kortel also let out a small laugh and moved onto the next quarian, who was the second one that Kevin did not originally know the name of. A simple process of elimination at least told Kevin what this one's clan name was. He found he was right on the money when the next quarian followed the others in due process and announced his name.
"Private First Class Tosh'Rolush of the Migrant Fleet Marines!" This quarian was a bit more clean cut than the others strictly in appearance, though his accent was far less obvious than any of the others so far. His visor was dark - almost appearing to be black, his colors were more of a subdued nature, and the cloths were more formally wrapped. Gray was his dominant color, followed by olive and maroon. He also had items dangling from his armored, pocket-ridden suit, but they were sparsely placed, in much simpler locations and far fewer in number when compared to Bela. They also appeared to be more of a technological nature, rather than offensive paraphernalia.
"Tosh'Rolush is our technology expert," Kortel explained. "While we all have a degree of aptitude dealing with tech, Tosh's abilities far exceed ours in a number of areas. I have never seen anyone – even a quarian – hack and reprogram as efficiently as he can. He's been a part of various missions dealing with geth and other concerns of the quarian people and he's made it a personal goal to better understand the geth's digital makeup. Ship systems and anything of a scientific nature are favorite subjects of his as well."
"If I might be so bold to ask," Tosh stated with a forward step, "will you permit me to examine the Kellius' systems in detail? I might even be able to help you tweak some of the systems or the VI for the better."
"Knock yourself out, Tosh," Kevin replied. He wasn't worried about the quarian snooping into the systems of the ship all that much. Other than the fact that the ship was technically stolen, he didn't have anything to hide. Considering that the reason any of them were alive at all was because he stole the ship, he figured Tosh could easily overlook that.
"I appreciate your open trust, Captain," Tosh said in thanks before stepping back into line to let Kortel continue on. Kevin had thoughts of questioning his sudden promotion to Captain, but he decided to bring that up at a more convenient time.
"Corporal Riik'Votis of the Migrant Fleet Marines!" the next quarian in line stated with a forced enthusiasm that could easily be mistaken for genuine enthusiasm or military stoics. His voice was deep for a quarian, and his accent was just shy of being on par with Bela. This quarian was black and white, literally. Black and white dominated the suit and armor in a slightly menacing fashion with a bit of his third color, turquoise, lining the details of his armor and helmet. Other than that, his suit was surprisingly almost as basic as Kar's, save for a few combat-related additions.
"Riik'Votis is one of our most dedicated fighters. He has a relatively high proficiency with a wider array of weapons, and a stalwart attitude to match. While he technically has no specialty outside of weaponized combat, it should be noted that he dedicated his time as a marine to infantry combat."
Once Kortel finished her explanation, Riik moved back into line without a word. It seemed to Kevin like he was growing impatient. Nevertheless, the next familiar quarian stepped forward – or rather he would, if he were not injured and sitting down – to offer his introduction.
"Gunnery Chief Tyr'Garloh of the Migrant Fleet Marines!" Now that they weren't in the middle of an urgent situation, Kevin was able to notice a few things about Tyr. His cloths, colored dark orange as the dominant color followed by gold and a touch of maroon, appeared to have been recently moved or rewrapped. There were a couple areas where the armor was hardly visible due to being wrapped along with the suit. His armor itself denoted experience. There were plenty of spots where the normal sheen of polished armor were permanently discolored or slightly dented from close calls with enemy fire. It also looked as though he's made no attempt to reverse the visual wear and tear on his armor, though any degradation in its effectiveness from damage appeared to have been tended to.
"Tyr'Garloh has a few roles. He's the leading NCO of our company, our combat strategist and chief of our military inventory. Mostly he lets his subordinates deal with the inventory, as his main role – especially now – has always been our combat strategist. He's seen more combat than most quarians at his rank, and has dealt with numerous situations successfully to get him invaluable experience among our marines. It was his idea to turn the remains of our ship into a bunker stage our 'last stand' there instead of up at our camp as well as stagger our fireteams to conserve clips. I think if we stayed topside, we would not have lasted more than a few hours. Not much of a storyteller though, so don't ask."
"How's the wound doing, Tyr?" Kevin asked as he leaned back on the corner going into the neck of the ship.
"Sealed off and mending, sir. Won't be able to run for a few more days and a light infection is starting in, but considering the crap you just pulled us out of, I'm more than glad to be alive. Luckily there wasn't much for aerial microbes on that planet, so the infection should at least be relatively short-lived."
"Glad to hear it. We have a full med-bay down the hall. Feel free to use it as you see fit."
"Will do, Captain. Thank you again."
Tyr sat back into his chair and adjusted himself to be a bit more comfortable for the rest of the introductions. Fortunately for him, there weren't many left. The last quarian standing in line stepped forward.
"Second Lieutenant Arla'Tavval of the Migrant Fleet Marines!" The first thing Kevin noticed about this quarian was that she had weapon preferences very similar to his. He spotted a pistol on her hip, a knife sheathed on her calf and a sniper rifle collapsed on her back. Her colors were a bit easier on the eyes as well – a deep purple and blue offset by a bit of forest green. She wore a bandolier that was currently empty, but was obviously used to carry extra thermal clips without tying up her suits pockets. It made sense seeing as how sniper rifle mass accelerators tended to go through clips faster than traditional rifles and pistols.
"Arla'Tavval is, other than me, our only surviving officer," Kortel started to explain. "Additionally, she is also our most accomplished marksman and designated sniper. She has deadly efficiency with any long ranged weaponry, usually in the form of sniper rifles. Counter to this, she was our ship's primary hand-to-hand combat instructor. She realized long ago that snipers may often get into close quarters combat situations, so she trained hard in that regard. As a side note, she has never lost a hand-to-hand duel for as long as I've known her."
"Impressive," Kevin said with a nod. This was interesting to him since close quarters combat, or CQC, was also a forte of his due to his. . . profession. There were many times he has had to do his job without the use of guns. That on top of his CQC training from his military days meant he could hold his own in a fight.
"Maybe we'll scrap later so I can see if my hand-to-hand skills are any good," he added
"Tch," was Arla's only reply. It was obvious she wasn't interested in teaching anyone anything right now. She stepped back into line without hesitation to let her captain continue with whatever she had planned next.
"And finally," Kortel said as she stepped into position at the end of the line, "I am Captain Siri'Kortel of the Migrant Fleet Marines." For a captain, Kevin thought she sported some rather droll colors. Pale yellow and light brown detailed with steel didn't make for a flashy leader. Despite this, her armor was a slight step up from the others in appearance. Her pauldrons were carefully etched with a symbol that filled the face of the armor they were etched on. It was something in the quarian's written language, and he could only assume it was what pointed her out as the captain of her crew. Barring this, she had no other discernible difference that could show her position.
"As captain of this crew, I'd like to formally thank you for coming to our aid. Now we at least have some left to tell the story of our friends and family so that they may not be forgotten."
"I'm sure there's a lot we can all talk about," Kevin said. "Maybe over a tour of the ship, or a meal?"
"Perhaps later, captain," Kortel said regretfully. "We have other things to attend first. If you could please show us where the crew normally stays, I would be grateful."
"I can do that," Ralik jumped in. "Need a chance to get away from that helmsman's chair. Right this way."
Ralik stood from his seat and promptly made his exit through the door on the backside of the briefing room. One by one the quarians followed in line behind Ralik and out through the door. When Kar'Welkas was the only one left to exit, Siri called to him.
"Welkas, inform the others that I will be with them momentarily."
"Yes ma'am," Kar replied, nodded and hurried out to fall in line with the others.
When the door shut behind him, the room fell awkwardly silent. Only Kevin and Siri remained in the room now, and Kevin was left wondering why she didn't just follow them out. Before anything was asked or said, she sat down in one of the briefing chairs, put her elbows on the table and rested the front of her helmet in her three-fingered hands. She let out a long exasperated sigh and shook her head.
"Quite a crew you have," Kevin said in encouragement, only to realize afterwards what he really just said and how that might have sounded. He winced at himself and decided to shut up for the moment.
She began to speak without lifting her head from her hands. "That ship held two hundred and thirty two quarians, Kevin. I knew them all. I already miss them all."
"With all due respect, captain, shouldn't you be with your crew right now?" Kevin asked, this time thinking about what he said first.
"I realize you aren't truly a captain, Kevin, so I will explain this to you. As a quarian captain, I am expected to exhibit a certain level of conduct. To be an example to those under me. It is very rare that I am ever in a position where I do not have to maintain that level of conduct. I just lost two hundred and twenty six quarians who trusted me with their lives. I am in need of what you humans call 'a moment'."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend."
"Don't be, because I'm not. I'm truly thankful that you showed up when you did, though I personally would have preferred a bit earlier. My biggest fear was that the tale of the Migrant Fleet vessel Forverna would be lost to the abyss of unexplored space. At least now we can tell others of those who fought to the very end of their lives for a cause that involves all of the quarian people."
"What were you doing way out here anyways?"
"If I asked you that same question, would you answer me?"
"Probably not until I trusted you more," Kevin said with a growing smile. "Point taken."
Siri sighed heavily once more after a brief lapse in the conversation and then slowly got up from her chair.
"Praying to our ancestors is not really our thing," Siri started, "but we will likely be doing a lot of that tonight. I would like to ask that we not be disturbed for a while. We will grieve, and then we will rest. Those kids have earned at least that much."
"Ill try to keep Ralik under control."
"Thank you, captain."
"And if it's all the same to you guys, I'd much rather you stayed captain and I just stayed Kevin."
"It is your ship, so by protocol you are the captain. Nevertheless, we will work on that as best we can." That said, Siri turned to leave.
"I appreciate it. And one more thing before you go?"
"Yes?"
"I caught some tension from Riik and Arla during the intros. Are they going to be a problem?"
"Riik is very. . . passionate about how quarians are treated. Arla has pride issues. Neither of them trusts humans. Show them that there's no reason not to trust you and you will have resolved half of their reasons for their disposition towards you." Kevin could almost hear the smile on her face as she explained that.
"Great," Kevin said sarcastically.
Siri took this moment to bow her head to Kevin before she turned around and made her way out of the briefing room.
Kevin let out a sigh. Though successful, the extraction did not go nearly as well as he had hoped. Now they were on their way back to the mapped and already explored parts of the galaxy, and he wondered if they would even have the fuel to get back to the melkanis relay now. It looked like his impulsive actions twisted things in the wrong direction again. He decided to apologize to Ralik, but at a later time. He'd let the salarian's disappointment dissipate first. After that, he'd have to figure out how to bring the news to Tarsil.
Kevin was once again faced with a recently recurring issue. What to do next? Between bereavement and sleep, he estimated the quarians would be in do-not-disturb mode for at least ten to twelve hours. There was always more work to be done with the audio logs in his data archive, but he still felt like he had just finished listening to a bunch. If he burned himself out, he'd never want to finish. Amidst all these thoughts, an audible grumble originating from Kevin's innards quickly made the decision on the short term objective. He hadn't used much for biotics during the extraction except for several instances of his barrier, but he didn't eat anything beforehand either. He'd figure out what to do over a nice hot meal. With his helmet resting between his right forearm and his hip, he made his way to the mess.
Kevin made himself a purposefully supersized meal, casual but with plenty of cheese and spice. He was only cooking for himself this time since Ralik still hadn't emerged from the depths of the Kellius. Despite not having anyone to converse with, he took his time and enjoyed his modest creation. He wasn't all that great of a cook, but he was good at winging it. Most of his cooked meals came together in the last few minutes of the process without him even knowing it. He's simply had enough luck that he hadn't fed anyone anything that didn't quite work out so well. As he enjoyed his meal and the stillness of the otherwise empty room, he decided that a quick inventory of the cargo hold was in order. With all the new stuff down there, there was a lot of reorganization to be had.
After he finished up with his meal, he moved to his room to change out of the hardsuit and into his usual casual garments. He grabbed a datapad from the desk and headed down to the cargo hold, not bothering to see where Ralik was or if the quarians were settled or not. They were marines. They didn't need babysitting. On his way down, he realized that he had totally forgotten where he had put his breather helmet. It was certainly an important piece of his gear, so he backtracked to check. He stepped back into his room only to discover that it wasn't there. He backtracked further and found it tucked under the table where he ate. Irritated that forgetfulness was striking yet again, he tucked the helmet under his arm and went straight down to the cargo hold without stopping in his room.
The moment Kevin entered into the crowded cargo hold, he had put his helmet down and was setting to work. He was checking to make sure everything they had before taking the quarians in was still in its proper place. It was a good thing he checked, too. Some of the crates holding beverages and food had been moved in order to make space for the things the quarians had brought aboard. He updated the locations of those crate in the ship's inventory via the datapad and moved onto documenting all the new items. Each crate the quarians brought aboard was labeled and listed the contents right on the front. It seemed Kortel ran a tight ship. Unfortunately, Kevin could not read quarian so he made due by peeking into any crates that were not locked to get an idea of what each held.
This mundane, yet necessary task had eaten up at least a few hours, and reorganizing the crates to better suit the inventory system took another few hours still. Normally this sort of work would be assigned to someone in charge of lower deck upkeep, but seeing as how he and Ralik were the only actual crewmembers, he had to do it himself. The basic run of a ship bigger than a simple fighter was becoming more and more clear to him, and while he found a sense of minor dignity in learning something as humble as maintaining a shipwide inventory, he could not dismiss the utter lack of. . . interest. Despite all this, Kevin knew this wouldn't be enough time for the quarians to finish their business. He had no intention of ever attempting to find out when they were done and would wait for one of them to emerge. That would be his answer.
Still, he was bored. Ralik was probably messing up engineering, and he had no patience for that right now. He needed to unwind a bit, and he decided Club Kellius was the cure for the itch. He just wanted to hear some of his favorite music. His mind was instantly made up and he headed for deck one. Once inside the entertainment room, he dimmed the ambiance, activated the podium and started up a custom playlist. He wasn't an 'official' DJ, but software programs made such a job so simple that kids with some amount talent could do it. The songs automatically transitioned properly via built in markers, so all he had to do was pick his list of tracks and off it went. The volume was raised and soon enough, Kevin's bobbing head and tapping foot rose to a moderately embarrassing dance. He'd never do this in public, but here he was away from prying eyes.
Or so he thought.
Only about an hour and a half into his obscenely long five hundred and thirty-eight hour playlist, Kevin suddenly noticed that there was another person in the room. It was one of the quarians. Bela'Merni, in fact. When Kevin suddenly stopped his dance and dropped the song volume, Bela burst out into laughter.
"Please tell me you don't always dance like that! Ahahaha!"
Bela couldn't see it in the dim, quickly shifting light, but Kevin was beet red. He didn't attempt to deny it, so he just went along.
"Yeah, that was pretty bad, huh? Last time I try to make up a dance on my own."
But Bela wasn't done.
"Keelah, if I tried that back home, I'd be laughed out of the flotilla! Ahahaha!"
"Alright, I get it. Geez. Look, are you here for something or just looking around? I wasn't aware you guys were already done." Kevin brought the ambient light to a standstill and brightened it up a bit. The music continued to play, but it was at a background volume now.
"They aren't, but I am," Bela stated. "Too much. Ancestor this, ancestor that. Love those guys to death and all, but I can only take to much asking the dead to watch the dead. So I got bored and started to wander. Stepped into the room labeled 'Entertainment', and right away it lived up to its name."
"Yeah," Kevin said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Again, I wasn't expecting anyone. And no, I don't always dance like that." Kevin put his hands out at his side in introduction. "So? What do you think? Pretty sweet, yeah?"
"Pretty sweet is an understatement, I think," Bela mused. "This is incredible beyond anything I've ever seen! A room this big dedicated to dance and good times? I think I'm going be able to survive the trip back after all. It's like having your own personal club!"
"You guys like to dance?" Kevin asked with a raised brow.
"Just about all of us! We're all young enough to appreciate the noise and the motions and the lights. Well, except for the captain, but don't tell her I said that. She still likes to dance though, if you can manage to get her to move off the wall she's normally leaning on."
"That's. . ." Kevin paused as he thought about that for a moment. "That's pleasantly surprising. Especially since Ralik is such a bore. Maybe I'll at least have some people to dance with until we reach the Migrant Fleet."
"Maybe once we're all done exchanging sob stories, you can host a dance party for us! What do you think? You've obviously got the gear and the atmosphere, and I'm sure the others wouldn't mind a little dancing to break off all the sorrow."
Kevin's face broke into a full fledged smile. He was beaming at this. "Sure thing. Just let me know when you all want to have some fun and I'll break out the playlist."
"Let me see, let me see! I bet you have some insane tech up there." Bela came running up the short stairs of the podium, almost knocking Kevin over the waist high railings.
"Yeah, sure, just. . . Don't touch anything!"
While Bela practically drooled over the equipment that rand the room's systems, Kevin just leaned back onto the railing and crossed his arms. For some reason he was already enjoying having other people around, and all she was doing was obsessing over the tech. It was strange, considering how much of a loner he was since he left the military. It didn't bother him, though. Her excessive energy was nigh inspiring. Maybe she was still running off of leftover adrenaline, because she was springy and really wound up. No wonder she didn't bother to try sleeping. Kevin wondered if perhaps it was her coping mechanism for dealing with the loss – constant distraction.
"These are brand new models! Not the absolute latest, but brand new!" Bela was still in drool mode over the equipment.
Kevin stood up straight from his "Maybe when you're not so overtired I'll show you how to run some of it. I've been dabbling with the gear for a few days now, so I've pretty much got it figured."
Bela paused for a moment and looked down to the flat, empty floor below. "Screw it. Folner, hit the lights and crank some tracks."
Kevin scratched his chin and smiled warily. "Shouldn't you be heading back to the others now?"
"Are you serious?" Bela questioned while skipping down the stairs to center herself on the dance floor. "I'm on the verge of passing out from exhaustion and you want me to go back to that ho-hum? Forget that. It's been a long time since I've had the chance to dance to this stuff."
Kevin chuckled to himself. "She really is quite the firecracker. Well, she asked for it."
He manipulated the controls to bring the ambiance back down, get it to pulse abstract shapes and change colors appropriate to the dark themed, fast paced dance track that just started to mix in. A sliiiiight adjustment in volume brought it to heart-pounding levels and the stage was set. Club Kellius' grand debut with two seasoned club goers as the VIPs. Kevin's head had barely started bobbing when the quarian down below was yelling at him.
"Hey, Folner! Get down here already! You know how this works, I need a dance partner!"
Kevin wasn't about to let the lady stand alone, of course. He'd never danced with a quarian before, so this was sure to be a unique experience. He hopped on down and joined the fiery Bela'Merni on the dance floor.
In Kevin's experience, it was awkward to say the least. The helmet she wore blotted out facial emotions, and Kevin generally relied upon those since chatter was impractical with the volume so high. Additionally, her suit wasn't the softest thing in the world and made the occasional close contact dance rather different. These differences did nothing to change the fact that they were both having a good time, however. He could at least hear her voice in high spirits, even if he couldn't fully understand her over the music, and she was great dancer. He had heard quarians loved to dance, but he never really believed it until now.
And she kept going constant for almost two hours. When that moment arrived, she simply stopped dancing and looked up. Kevin heard her say something about being tired finally and she started to head for the door. She didn't even make it half of the way before she collapsed on the spot.
"Ah, crap. Should have seen this coming," Kevin said, shaking his head. "At least she got what she wanted, though. Passed right out from dancing."
Kevin quickly ran up the podium and stopped all music and light effects. The room returned to its classic lit state and Kevin wasted no time getting back to the poor girl.
"Alright, I guess it's time for you to go back to bed, missy."
Kevin bent down and picked up the limp quarian. Even though she was lacking all the armaments she carried before and had almost nothing dangling from her suit, she was still lighter than he had expected. He had figured that the exosuit they wore was heavier than it actually seemed. At least this would make carrying her back to the crew quarters easy. Carrying her with one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, he stepped out of the wildly successful Club Kellius and headed for the stairwell to deck two. The trip down was quiet, and Bela didn't stir at all. He felt bad about disturbing the quarians, but he reasoned that they would want their fellow marine resting with them and not in a chair upstairs. He stood in front of the door and gave it a few quick taps with the toe of his boot.
It took about thirty seconds for the door to open, but it did. The person to greet him was none other than captain Kortel. When they all saw the state of Bela, they all jumped up and rushed to the door behind their captain, worried about what happened to her. Riik was already spouting accusations.
"Bela! What have you done to her, Folner? I swear, if you so much as-" Riik was cut off by his captain.
"Enough, Votis. Go sit down and let me talk. I highly doubt he would harm her then bring her to our door."
Riik made it clear that he had other things to say, but fortunately his respect for his captain outweighed his rash anger. He and the others reluctantly dispersed into the room, all staring at their captain, the human, and the incapacitated quarian in his arms.
"Her vitals are fine, save for a low heartrate. Care to explain, Folner?"
"It was simple, actually," Kevin confidently stated. "She stumbled upon my entertainment room while I was playing some dance tracks. In short, I think she exhausted herself dancing on the dance floor."
"Dance floor?" Kortel asked, confused. It then hit her and she laughed. "I see. And you were her escort, then?"
"And her dance partner. None of it by choice, as it seemed." They shared a chuckle as they looked upon the helpless quarian girl.
"With the Merni clan, it rarely is," Kortel explained. "Thank you for bringing her back, Folner. And for helping her find her release. It was rough watching her trapped inside herself for the past few hours." She motioned for Kevin to come in. Kevin accepted her brief offer and stepped into the room to lay Bela down on a bed.
Kar curiously piped in at that moment, having only heard a portion of the conversation. "What's this about a dance floor?"
"Don't worry," Kevin responded, "I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she wakes up."
The vague answer only left all the quarians other than the captain looking at each other in confusion. Kevin smiled, and with no intent on lingering, he started on his way out. Siri passed him a thankful, silent nod before addressing her company.
"I think it is time we all followed Merni's example for a change. We are all in dire need of rest."
Kevin didn't get to hear or see the reactions of the others before the door closed behind him, but he was pretty sure he felt laser death stares hitting him in the back from Riik and possibly from Arla as well. Either way, he also though it was time to grab some shut-eye. Between the battle, the inventory and Bela's impromptu dance extravaganza, he was just about wiped. It had crossed his mind to check on Ralik and make sure that there was still a functioning drive core in place, but he once again decided against it in favor of some sleep. Sleep that was quickly becoming his only want. Back up into his quarters, he hit the pillows face first and was instantly out.