Alright, I know I said that this would be every sunday night, but I have had this one done for more than two days, and having proofread it a few times, I think it's ready for the press... so to speak.
As the story progresses, I have realized something. i have written a bunch of stories before, about two or three of them, but this is the first one I've published. Anyway, the revelation is this:
The fact that I can keep going, that I can keep writing, is not only due to my will to write it, it is also thanks to you guys. When one is writing only for oneself to read it, it tends to lose its 'fire' of interrest rather quickly, so to speak. But since I have a (small maybe, but) awesome group of readers, followers, favoriters(is that a word?) and reviewers, I have the will and the purpose to keep this up. Long story short: Stick with me, and I will drive this thing all the way to ME3 and beyond. Just saying :)
Anyway, let's get on to the next chapter, shall we?
Noveria - prelude to disaster
October 6th
Zeus station
19:23
"Sir… we have a problem." Miranda said, looking somewhat embarrassed having to be the one carrying the news, as well as the one this marine had seemingly known just about everything about. She was currently standing a few meters behind him, looking at her feet to avoid his gaze. Something she had never had to do before. The man took a small sip from his glass before looking at the woman's face. He didn't yet know what was wrong, though Leng had mentioned something about an old acquaintance of his apparently being at a meeting he and Miranda had been at with Jacob Taylor as well. Looking at the operative in front of him, he sighed;
"Well, how bad is it?" He asked, voice calm as always when bad news was being presented. The tone of curiosity in his voice came from the fact that Miranda had never been on the list of people delivering him bad news. The woman lifted her eyes from the pristine black tiles of the floor to look her boss in then eyes;
"We… may have a mole in the system sir." She said. The nervous tone crept into her words, almost causing her to stumble over the words. For a few moments, none of them breathed;
"Could you please be a little more specific? What happened on your mission?" He asked, putting the glass back into the holder. Lawson sighed, scratching her chest trying to find something to say;
"I… Sir, you asked me to infiltrate the SSV Normandy. I did so, under the guise of a journalist from the Citadel News Net. There were only a few marines left at the ship while it was docked at the Citadel, so I talked to one of them. It turned out he was actually the same Thomas Fisher who was nearly killed in the explosion in Valern's office. Well, he gave me the green light to get a guided tour on the ship, even asked for an interview. Well, I was shown around, and we reached the mess hall where I went to the… where I snuck away, planted a remote-controlled data-siphon and left the ship again, with the excuse that something big had come up." She said, inhaling deeply for what felt like an eternity.
"Sounds like you had a fine cover. Please, continue."
"Well, the moment I was a good distance from the ship, I activated the drone and sent it on a recon. Apparently, Fisher wasn't as stupid as I gave him credit for. He caught the drone, and… he sat down and talked to it. Sir, he knew my name without even… I don't know how, but all the time he was showing me around, he knew who I was, hell he even knew I work for you. He knew about Jacob, and he hadn't even set foot anywhere near the ship! He even knew about my sister, my fucking sister! Not even Jacob knew about her!" Miranda almost shouted the last part, no longer being able to contain her rage over having been overruled by a simple marine. The Illusive man raised a hand;
"Calm down Miranda. We'll get to the bottom of this. Now, what was this about a meeting?" He said, keeping his calm composure.
"I… when he started talking to the drone, he offered to give it back. But, he said that if I wanted it back, plus the information he would actually give me, he wanted something in return." She said, remembering the heated moment where she had nearly thrown a fit from starring at the insolent young man through the bug's eye;
"I figured… was it money or… or something else?" He couldn't bring himself to ask the last part, knowing full well that there were questions one didn't ask of Lawson, even if one happened to be her superior;
"…No sir. He said he… he wanted a favor from you. From your specifically." She said, not being able to contain the amount of anxiousness in her voice.
"Oh? And what might that favor be?" His curiosity was peeked now, hearing about this apparently all-knowing grunt.
"He didn't say. Just told me that it would also benefit Cerberus in the long run. I tried pressing him for his sources, but he didn't even flinch, just gave me such an insolent smile and told me that it was 'classified'. I swear if I ever see that prick again, I'm going to jam my high heels down his throat." She sneered the last part. Her temper was overtaking her again. Breathing in again, she calmed down, not wanting to lose too much of her cool in front of the man protecting humanity.
"Hmm… I'm going to have some people check on his files, learn everything about him. In the meantime, how about the new crewmembers, those commandoes and the red-haired second commander. What did you learn about them?"
"Well, he wasn't going to talk about the woman… told me I would have to ask her myself, but I did manage to get some Intel on the commandoes. Turns out they were part of a mercenary-group consisting entirely of Maori-soldiers. Or, that was at least what he told me. Do we trust this information sir?"
"No." Came the short answer.
"So… why not?"
"Because you weren't the only one I assigned to those particular people. I also had operative Cross obtain some saliva-samples from them, as well as… other bodily fluids. Suffice to say, we found out some quite interesting facts from three of them. Remember that interview Jilani did with them, asking them if they were evil clones?"
"Yes sir, but I'm not sure if… are you saying that…"
"Yes, their genetic codes are one hundred percent matches, like they are the same person. It would seem like Fisher is covering up for someone who has dabbled in genetic research and human cloning. Could be that's why he knows of your sister. He might have ties to Alexander or Henry." The man said, picking up his glass for another sip before discovering that it was empty. With a fluid motion, he pressed the glass against the small tap inbuilt in his chair, waiting for it to be refilled.
"That son of a bitch! I knew there had to be a reason for him to know what he did, but… if he knew about Ori, then he could know where she is as well."
"Hmm, yes that could become a problem. Well, aside from the favor he demanded, I do think all of this can be turned quite easily. Cross obtained the DNA-samples from the commandoes, Leng has information on the red-head, and you seem to have your connection to Fisher. I think I've got a solution in mind, but you may not like it. Well, part of it." He said, bringing the glass to his lips again, savoring the whisky.
"What is it?" She asked, her tone unusually brisk. Normally she spoke to him with the tone a child would to its teacher, not like this.
"Well, I'll give you free reins to pursue any and all data on Fisher, as long as no bodily harm is done, but that will mean you will no longer be able to oversee 'lethal night' at peak thirteen. It's entirely up to you, but if you decline it, Leng will be put on it. As you may know, his methods of data-obtainment aren't always the most… discreet." A small smirk was playing on his lips, knowing full well that he would be placing his best operative in a dead-lock. On one hand she had never abandoned a project, but on the other hand, her pride demanded answers, and what better way than to go for the source of her headache?
"I… you are not really giving me much of a choice here, are you sir?" She said, fully realizing that putting Leng on the case would most likely end up with someone dead. Something which the Normandy's mission was far too important to risk.
"That's up to you Miranda, though it would be more likely to have success without you on Noveria than investigating Fisher without you. I place my trust in that you can make the right choice."
"Yes sir, I already know what to do." Miranda said and made to leave the room;
"Oh, and do bring me back a souvenir from the Citadel, would you?" He said with a smirk, already knowing what she would choose. He was alone in the room when an incoming call caught his attention.
"Yes, what is it? Professor Nielson, what's… calm down, what's the matter?" He asked, then listening to what the lead-scientist of peak thirteen told him. Halfway through, he cut the man off;
"Professor, get to a safe location, but do not harm the queen, we need her alive for our research to pay off. I'm sending in SpecOps-team to evac you and remaining staff. Just try to make it to the main-hangar, and we can have you- Professor?!" In the time he had been talking, the sound of gunfire had increased in the background to the point where the professor seemingly had had to take part in the shooting before suddenly, signaled with the sound of bodies being broken and ripped apart, it all fell silent. Only a faint whimpering could be heard through the comm.
…
October 7th
Normandy Mess hall
09:21 (ship time)
"I swear, they were this big, and the moaning? Call me a faggot, but it was magic!" Sev says, waving his hands through the air as he tells of his latest exploits in one of the more exotic places on the Citadel. Fixer and Boss are sitting next to him, Boss clutching his head while nursing a cup of the tea Nic bought for the crew. It's funny how it's the last people you would expect to enjoy tea.
"I know. We were there, remember?" Fixer butts in. He and Sev seems to have had a fun night while Boss hasn't felt inclined to discuss how he experienced the night. Scorch? I don't know what to make of that guy anymore. He just sits at their table with a mug of coffee, not looking like he had a particularly memorable night.
"Do you two have to retell every bed-side act you performed with that woman in front of half the ship?" He sneers. Okay, something's definitely off here. Scorch has never been pissed, he didn't even sneer when we were aiming guns at each other on Feros.
"What, just because you didn't want in on a four-some with that babe?" Sev says, voice gruff and a bit rude. Just as always.
"I told you, I didn't feel up to doing a five-some with a total stranger. You guys have fun, but it just didn't sit right with me." He says with a bit of anger, where after he returns to his mug.
"Oh, I think I know who you feel up to doing." Sev says, actually sounding a bit tipsy now that I think about it. How the hell can he still be drunk?
"Shut it Oh-Seven, leave the kid alone." Boss says, obviously starting to have had enough of the drunk clone's talking.
"Oh come on, it's as clear as fucking day who he wants to bone." Sev just continues, seemingly unfazed by his squad leader's orders.
"Sev, you're drunk. Shut it." Scorch sneers, now with a red face. Most of the people in the mess hall have turned to follow the conversation between the commandoes. And when I say most, I mean it like everyone not required to be at their posts to keep the ship running at lowest. So we're more than thirty people, humans and aliens alike, watching the events unfold. It's really weird, to be honest, seeing the two normally inseparable pod-brothers at each other's throats. And how come Sev is drunk, I didn't know we allowed alcohol on the ship. Then again, it is a Shepard running this thing, so I guess everything is possible.
"Vode, I'm just telling the truth here. Every time you look at her, it's like your armor gives off a ping when you get a hard-on from those blue ti-" He doesn't get to say anymore before Scorch has gotten up and sent Sev backwards in the chair with a right hook. The scarred commando looks completely dumbfounded, not having expected something like that. All chatter in the entire room just dies down instantly, as all focus is set on the two troopers. I even stop scratching Ash's back as I can't tear my eyes from what's happening before them. Scorch just hit Sev? What the hell?
"Sev, I frakking told you, shut UP!" Scorch is standing right in front of him, cheeks red and eyes merely slits. Sev slowly get's up, rubbing his now pretty sore cheek;
"Thirty-eight… did you just hit me?" He says with a menacingly low voice, curling up his fists. Scorch doesn't move an inch;
"Yeah, because you crossed the line Sev." He says. The intensity is so clear you could aim at it with a gun.
"The line? I crossed the line? Are you serious, hitting me because I crossed a non-existent line? You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"
"Sit down Sev. You two Scorch. I don't feel like throwing both of you in the brig as the first thing I'm doing today." John says, interrupting what could have very well turned ugly. Sev turns to look at John;
"Sure commander Jedi-sir, it was just a friendly brawl, nothing more." Sev says, looking at John with the kind of loathe only found in the eyes of someone with a certain percentage.
"Good, that includes you as well Scorch. I would like to have a word with you actually. Come with me." John says, beckoning for Scorch to follow him. Looking a bit flustered, Scorch looks around a bit, then follows John out from the room. Silence remains the key-factor for a few moments, until slowly chatter resumes with Boss saying something to Sev. I can't hear what he says, and I have a feeling I'm not supposed to either. So I give up trying to hear it, and instead return to the impatient Ashley, craving for me to resume the back-scratching.
"Well that was random." Nicolai says, joining us while Ash is giving off sounds not too distinct from a happy cat.
"Sev and Scorch? Yeah well, they're adults: let them handle their own problems. At least the two of us still go under the category 'young people'. "
"I guess… by the way, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Does it require me to get up?"
"Sorry Romeo, but yeah, I think it goes under the category 'private'. So, Ashley, you'll have to do without your private masseur for a few minutes."
"Damn you Tengberg, I should have you thrown in the brig for this." Ash mumbles, getting up from her position on my lap, lying on her chest. It looks really immature, like a child on her mother's lap, but I don't think anyone minds it. Not like I would give a flying fuck if they did anyway. Slowly, I help Ash up in a seated position, give her a kiss on the mouth, yes I'm actually comfortable around that type of kiss now, and get up to follow him. When we've reached the place where the elevator opens up, he turns around to face me;
"Listen, I've been thinking, and it's probably nothing, but just hear me out, okay?"
"Sure, fire away." I say, not really feeling comfortable with this sudden change of pace. Not that thinking isn't normally his style, but he usually doesn't get worried unless some real shit is about to go down.
"Okay… both of us, as well as Jane, the clones and probably Tequila got here because we died, right?" He says, obviously finding some distaste in reminding himself of what happened to send him here.
"As far as I know, yeah. Why?"
"Well… what if it's not just us? I mean, hell your own sister apparently re-spawned here too, and she didn't even know about this place."
"You're saying there may be more?" It sounds crazy, but I guess there could be some truth in it.
"I don't know. What if there, right now, were, say two-hundred horny nerds appearing here, and then they would storm the ship to get to either Liara, Ash or Jane, then they would start shouting about how come that people like Delta, Tequila or the two of us were here, or worse, they might try to go nerd-bang on Tali… which would then cause John to kick them to hell, and then they would join Cerberus, since they turn good in two years, and give them all the Intel and… I don't know, I have been laying awake all night." He sighs, massaging his temples.
"Damn, didn't you get any sleep at all?"
"Not… not really, no. I know, it is a stupid way of thinking, but we both got here, and what the hell are the odds for that? No, the probability is too high that something similar could happen. Actually, who's to say it already hasn't, and that people we might know died some years after us and then ended up here, and they would now be hunting the Normandy down to see us again."
"Seriously mate, you need some sleep. You sound like someone on crack."
"Just listen, will you?"
"Fine…"
"Take, I don't know… that dude Magnus for one, the cynical bastard we knew back on Earth? What if he died as well and ended up here. Hell, he would see the interview and come rushing here, then he- you remember he was a Tali-mancer like me? The difference could just be that he wouldn't take the first few 'I'm taken' for a 'no', and things would get fucking embarrassing. And… Dios, I've got nothing… wake me when it's time to make lunch." He says, suddenly turning to march into the elevator and taking it a level down.
I just stand there for a few seconds, trying to process what he just threw at me. I guess, in hindsight it does make some kind of sense, seeing as both me, Anna and Nic ended up here, and many more could have as well… what if Mass Effect is heaven, and when people die, they can go to heaven or this place… but does that mean this is actually the limbo? Damn, my head hurts just going over this. Pinching my nose, I sigh and return to the table, instantly assaulted by a combo of Ash wanting a resumed back-scratcher, and my Omni-tool going off. Sitting down on the row of chairs fashioned into a makeshift couch with a narrow mattress, I let her lean back over me to continue the scratching. Feeling the warm pit in my stomach starting to bubble again, filling me with a happy feeling, I start letting my fingers travel up and down her back, scratching through the soft uniform, occasionally coming across the string to her bra. I can't help but see it inside my mind, what she would look like without the uniform, just clad in her bra and underwear. Smiling, I shake the thought off me, not as much for the moral complications as for the fact that thinking about it tends to give me a boner, something which Ash would be able to feel instantly in her current position. And, I'm not yet sure what she would do in such a situation, how she would react to something like that. Hell, I do remember a lot of movies where the nervous guy had a boner and the girl found out, then they had sex on a tree. Not sure the same thing would happen in real life, probably because I would be pissin' scared, not knowing what the hell I would do…sure, the ol' trust and pull is known to all, but it's more of a mental matter, sort of. I just wouldn't be able to handle it without screwing up on a galactic scale.
Shaking those things from my mind, I decide to check on the message or call my tool received. Opening it, I discover an email waiting for me:
Hey Bro (can I call you that or does it seem weird?)
I have received your plans, including the gunship and let me just say… wow. I mean, this thing… the materials we all have, but the physics implied in this thing, the engines alone are years ahead, capable of FTL without Eezo, and in this size! The techs almost started drooling when they realized it wasn't a joke, seriously, they almost fought each other to get to those schematics. If we can pull this off, manufacture this thing, I'm going to have you promoted, clad in gold, made a statue, anything. I know I may sound like I'm exaggerating, but I'm currently looking at the prospects of these engines being manufactured on a larger scale for System's Alliance ships, make them almost independent of Eezo, and free up lots of stock for other things. This thing will out-match the mantis in no time, and since humanity sits on the plans for it, the other races will have to ask nicely before we let them join in on the big tech-surge.
Also, the schematics for this' Marlow'… from what I can see, it can achieve FTL even without Eezo, and this ship is twice the length of the SSV Hong Kong, my own ship. We're going to see about reverse-engineering this thing, outfitting it with shielding and combine it with the best state-of-the-art boom-sticks we have, as well as giving its engines a closer look, to see if we can put the same thing in the rest of the fleets.
Oh yeah, those guns? I presented the schematics to the cunt-cil, sorry council, and Sparatus was… why did they all seemed so shaken up? He just took the plans the second I mentioned your name, and told me to await instructions as well as Hackett… what have you ben up to that I don't know?
Oh right, you asked how I was… Well, I'm fine. My oldest daughter Lisbeth is in the third month, and my youngest Sarah, just graduated from college. With fine marks, I might add. I guess the brightness is strong in this one (yes I know I just made a supposedly non-existent reference to a non-existent movie, will explain later) Myself I've got my work cut out for me, coordinating with Hackett to have the fleets' weapons updated with the Ion-cannon for one. The Proton torpedoes have me curious, if they are better than current plasma-warheads, but I'll let the techs figure that one out. Now you're probably thinking "why hasn't she mentioned her husband?" well, that's because the bugger left me a few years ago, when I was commander of the Perugia. Apparently, he suddenly decided he liked Asari better, and I decided I liked my home better without him. Lit his stuff on fire when he came to collect them, but… that's another story.
Well, I guess that's it. One of the techs is hollering at me, so ciao!
Anna
P.S: You better treat Ashley well, or I'm dragging you before a court-marshal. I won't have the family name stained by acts of idiocy or insensitivity.
Smiling, I look at the last bit of the message again, having to reread it a few times to wrap my mind around it. Anna practically just stated that she is fully expecting me to grow old with Ashley. Well, I guess there are worse prospects the family can attempt to force upon you. At least, I think that is what she meant. I just shake my head from the thoughts of over-protective sisters… really old sisters granted, but still a sister.
"I guess she just loves you already…" I sigh, looking down on Ash's soft back. The uniform gives me the impression that I'm scratching some sort of fabric, but the soft yet fit back under the shirt tells me of the warm living body underneath.
"Who?" Ash says, positioning herself better.
"My sister. She ended the letter, and I quote "You better treat Ashley well, or I'm dragging you before a court-marshal". She suspects me of being some douche who doesn't have a conscience."
"Nah, that would never happen. If you treated me bad, you'd be dead before she could get here with FTL." Ash chuckles. I can feel her breath and her heartbeat through my thighs. The combination of her warmth, and her shutting off my blood flow through the legs, almost makes it feel like she isn't even there, like she doesn't weigh anything at all.
"Also, it seems the brass liked the blueprints I sent them. Apparently, the geeks were almost fighting each other to get their hands on the gunship." I say, caressing her neck.
"Figures. I bet they are going to blow something to shit with it, then call it a drill or say UFO's did it. The rule just is, they'll never admit to having made a mistake."
"You think so?" I say, rubbing her neck, receiving a small shudder in return.
"Hey, who's the career-soldier here? And do not stop doing that, or I'll have you shot." She says, shivering again from the neck-rubbing. I just smile and chuckle to myself, continuing the massage. Who the hell would have thought I would actually have something to use my so-called 'skills' in massaging for. Granted, I was often told I was good at it, but I always thought that was sort of to make me feel better.
"I guess you are ma'am." I chuckle. Ash has turned her head sideways, giving me a soft smile.
"Damn right I am." She puts on a more stoic attitude, but seems to lose it as I keep rubbing her shoulder-joints.
…
Normandy cargo hold
17:22 (ship time)
"You know, when I joined the Normandy, one of the last things I considered was cleaning my own guns. Don't get me wrong, it's a good exercise, but I didn't think futuristic weapons needed to be kept in the same way as guns from my age. Does that sound weird?"
"A little, yeah. But you don't want a dirty gun when you go to a gunfight. That'd be real stupid." Wrex says, continuing to rub synthetic grease into his shotgun.
"I know, that was the rule back then as well… by the way Wrex, that thing Ash was working on, that I wasn't allowed to see…do you know why that was?"
"Hell if I know, something called a 'born-day' or 'birthday'… not sure which one it was, but apparently you couldn't see what it was… is that something humans do?"
"Yeah, it's kinda tradition to keep it a surprise. I think… wait, was Ash down here making me a present?"
"If that's what it's called, then yeah, I think so. So Humans celebrate the day they were born or what?" Wrex asks, cocking his shotgun with a tossing movement, checking the fluidity of the motion, I can't help but think he's been in the mercenary-business even longer than I used to think.
"Yeah, it's called a birthday, and then there's usually cake and drinks and presents and all sorts of good things."
"Like sex?" Wrex asks, doing a few tossing movements with the gun before picking up a cloth to start wiping the leftover grease from the barrels. I nearly choke, despite not drinking anything.
"Wha- I… well, mostly in America I think. I… why do you even ask, do you plan on doing someone at my birthday?"
"Maybe… or maybe I'm just curious to see if anyone else gets it on. Especially if we're at the Citadel or Illium in the meantime."
"I… I've got nothing. Would you like to hear about other human traditions?" I say, desperate to change the subject before he asks me if-
"Actually I would rather know when you think you'll bang the Chief." I nearly fall over myself, not knowing if I can even breathe without doing something I'm going to regret;
"Ju- just why do you ask that?" I manage to get out.
"Heh, kid I've been around for more than five hundred years, been a mercenary for more than three hundred. I pick up things, things most wouldn't, but in your case? You could just as well walk around with a big sign saying 'I wanna bang Williams'. Your pheromones are all over the place when near her."
"Damn… I… didn't think it was…"
"That obvious? Yeah… it is. Makes me wonder if she feels the same way and is just waiting for you to take the initiative. So, when do you plan on doing it?" Fuck… there's really no better word here. Wrex has me in a corner. My head, the cheeks and ears in particular are heating up, but not in the pleasant way.
"I…I…I…fuck, that's not something you ask a guy, Wrex!"
"Why not?"
"I… you just don't, it's not normal."
"Maybe not for humans, but when there's more than five different species on this ship, the definition of 'normal' doesn't really hold."
"Well, I'd prefer to keep that to myself." I mumble, not willing to get the volume to high. Wrex just gives me one look, before bursting into laughter;
"Holy shit, you're virgin! That's why you're so nervous, aint it?"
"Yes, thank you for informing the entire ship Wrex. Can we please go back to talking about traditions now?"
"Sure, what else is there?" Wrex asks, seemingly completely unfazed by the awkwardness of the situation.
"Well… there's Christmas, a Christian event where you give presents, dance around a tree and eat a lot of good food."
"So… it's basically like a- Whaaat? Dance around a tree? Are you touched in the head or something?"
"No, that's how we do. Dance around a pine and sing songs. Then we open presents and eat more food. Actually, I think you would make a good Santa." I say, then remembering just who I'm talking to.
"What's a Santa?" Wrex asks with suspicion in his voice. I'm going to regret this.
"Well… it's a big fat guy in red clothes with a white beard bringing children presents." I can't help but take a few steps backwards from his stare. Then, he just starts laughing;
"Hah! Hah that would be the day when I kiss a Salarian, or when I make friends with Councilor Sparatus. Yeah, not gonna happen." He says, shaking his head. Okay, he's not going to attack me due to an insolent comment… that's a bit surprising, to be honest.
"You sure? There's just two months to Christmas, and it would make you a nice boy to play Santa." I don't know why I'm pushing it like I am, especially since this is Wrex, the Thresher-killer, the big badass. But I guess meeting him in person did give me a different perspective.
"Careful Fisher. I may respect you, since you made those Cerberus people look stupid as hell, but try and drag me in a human costume like that, and Williams will find your entrails all over the ship." He growls.
"Fair enough… it was worth a shot." I say, returning to practicing the disassembling of my gun. The Lancer is a bit more difficult to work on, seeing as it's got a lot more parts, and it is bigger than the Raikou-pistol.
When we returned from the Citadel yesterday, I found an oddly new and shiny rifle in my locker, with no trace of the old one. Asking Garrus what it was, since it looked a lot like my old one, he told me that it was a Lancer-IV, and that it was pretty much better all around than my old one. Also, this one is red. And a lot lighter, while still feeling like it's got more kick to it. Pulling back the bolt on the side, I aim the empty gun down the wall, checking the sights. Perfectly set… damn, this could actually turn out pretty well.
Pressing the bolt down, I turn a small disk, resulting in the top-most part of the gun coming apart, allowing me to unscrew the barrel. And here I am, cleaning guns on the Normandy… not sure if that sounds incredibly cool, or incredibly dull, but I think it holds its own charm. If anything, like Wrex said, a clean gun will help keep me alive.
…
October 8th
Normandy Meeting Room
08:15 (Ship time)
"Alright people, word just came in. We've lost all contact with the STG-team stationed on Noveria, which in itself is pretty disturbing, but I'm afraid there's some serious shit coming our way" John says, strolling inside the room as the last arrival, Jane having already made sure we are seated.
"What do we know Shepard?" Jane asks, giving him a small frown, still not fully accustomed to be on the receiving end of a briefing on the Normandy. John turns to face her;
"So far we don't know as much as we'd like to. They were undercover to check on Matriarch Benezia when they started reporting signs of… we don't really know what, but they described horrors descending upon the researchers in peak thirteen, then there were reports of contamination-threats, and before they could investigate… the threat came to them. Within two hours, the team disappeared from our scanners, and the facility on peak fifteen was deemed lost. A few days later, there were reports of workers disappearing from the docks, and now… well, Padok Wiks sent out a distress-call yesterday, and… just listen to it, will you?" John says, activating the comm. in the room:
"This is Padok Wiks of the Salarian STG! We've suffered heavy casualties from unidentified hostiles. I repeat un-identified hostiles! They are not slavers; I repeat they are not- watch out, another one!" The screaming in the background, combined with a long series of gunshots betrays the fact that a major conflict is ongoing, as if the horrified voice of the Salarian wasn't enough. The most chilling thing though, is the screams in the background. Saying that they are inhuman would be an understatement. The only thing I can remember sounding anything like that…No, no I'm not going through that hell again.
"Hostiles are animals, I repeat animals! They employ pack-like tactics, and they don't seem to care for their own dead. We are firing rounds faster than the guns can cool down, and we've been cut off from the ships still in the spaceport. We are down to less than thirty people, and only a few guns. I can't keep protecting them, we need- AARARGGG, GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF-" The transmission just ends after that, leaving us to listen to a long moment of statics;
"As you can hear, Noveria is no longer stable, and it is likely that our mission to find Benezia… no offense Liara, will be postponed in order to secure the facility on and at the spaceport. We do not know what enemies or animals we are facing exactly, but-"
"Bugs." Tequila just states, cutting John off in the middle of his sentence. We all fall quiet and turn to look at the Corporal, even Nic is looking scared as shit. And he hasn't even fought the fuckers. Tequila looks very small, like she just wants to disappear into her seat. Nihlus, Jane and John turn to face her fully;
"You mean… like the things we encountered on Therum?" Jane asks, probably remembering her first encounter with the xenos.
"I doubt it. On Therum there were hardly any living beings but krogan mercenaries and the other archeologists. Here? What is Noveria, if not a giant lunch-box for those creatures?" Tequila says, earning a few gulps and a hard stare from Nihlus;
"Well Corporal, you are sort of our expert on these things. From a place with about five-hundred workers and guards, what's the worst we can expect?" He says, putting a talon under his 'chin'.
"At the very least five hundred bugs. If there are more around, then… I don't know. The last time a case like this happened, it… it turned bad." She says, looking at her knees.
"Yeah, I know. 'Hadley's Hope' right?" I say, remembering the old movie. It's the same universe, so logic dictates that it should have happened as well. Besides, I seem to remember her mentioning something about 'this going worse than the Acheron-drop' somewhere in the game. When I look back at Tequila, I notice how pale she has become. It looks like the very mention of that place made the blood disappear from her face;
"Tequila? You… was it something I said?" I ask, frowning.
"Don't… please don't mention that place again." She whispers. Her hands are shaking, and her jaw is clenched.
"What, Hadley's Ho- I mean… sorry, but… is it some kind of taboo in the corps?" I ask, giving her an apologizing nod.
"No it's… my sister died there. Just don't mention it again, okay?" She says, opening and closing her fists.
"Crap… sorry, I didn't mean to stir up some bad memories… but how did they even spread? I mean, we sealed them inside a fucking steel-vault. A raging Krogan couldn't get through that thing." I say, but Nihlus seems to be more interested in other things.
"Corporal, we need all the Intel we can get on how to effectively fight these things. Do you have any cam-records of the encounters you've had with these things?"
"No. I lost it all when the gunship crashed, Sir." She says, folding her hands across her knees, looking down. Nihlus doesn't seem to be deterred though.
"I see. Then there is another way. We have onboard a set of neural-extraction modules. If we can hook you up to one, we can extract your past experience with these things, hopefully without you suffering from any negative side-effects." Nihlus says, calm as day.
"Kryik, that's still on the experimental stage. If she is affected by it, we could lose our only expert on these things." John says, facing Nihlus.
"I know that. But it's either that, or head in blind. We don't have any other way of fully comprehending the threat these things pose. It's not as if we can just slap in a disk and watch your memories like a movie, and we don't have any other sources." Nihlus says, turning from John to Tequila.
"I think I know a way. Do we have a DVD-player on board?" Nic suddenly says, drawing the gazes of everyone in the room.
…
"You can't be serious. Should on old human sci-fi movie be solid Intel?" Nihlus asks in disbelief, watching as Ash and Nic are looking up James' Cameron's old 'Aliens' from the extra-net. Turns out that pirating movies isn't one bid harder now than it used to be. Hell, even I can do it now.
"Why the hell not?" He asks, giving the Turian a long stare that almost borders to indifference. I'm guessing that Nic never really got that much respect for Nihlus. Probably after what he witnessed Nihlus' spare time events, particularly the Turian version of a romance-movie. Hell, I still remember the cowering form of Nicolai whispering that Nihlus was watching a make-out scene. Damn, and I thought he had seen a dark version of SAW or something.
"Because it's just fiction. It's not as if your movie is a perfect description of these creatures and… by the way, what movies is it?"
"Nihlus, I've learned lately, that the term 'fiction' doesn't quite mean that something doesn't exist. Besides, this movie will give you some perspective."
"What kind?"
"The kind that shows you what happens when an entire battle-group of marines are fighting these things." Nic says, opening the file with the movie in question, launching the menu. Pressing start, Ash projects it to the big screen, and gestures for the rest of us to sit down.
…
"You always were an asshole Gorman!"
Vasquez cries as she huddles up to him in the shaft, pressing down the button on the grenade. The scene shifts to Ripley and Hicks, crawling through the ventilation shaft along with Newt. A huge fireball chases them from behind as the grenade detonates, killing Vasquez and Gorman, along with any aliens pursuing them. Stealing a glance to my left, I notice that Tequila is no longer in her seat, or the room for that matter. Nic notices my glance and nods at the door. Apparently Tequila left the room somewhere after the point where Ripley ordered the doors sealed. I wonder why she couldn't take watching the rest of the movie. PTSD maybe? Next to Nicolai, Garrus and Nihlus sit, both of them rather struck by what's going on on the screen. I have to admit: the re-mastered edition turns up the horror-level to an insane degree. The fact that it's all automated 3D doesn't help. I have seen this thing a few times before, and I'm still rather spooked by it. All the blood, the gore… none of this was in the original movie. Talos, this makes SAW look like Whinny the Pooh for real this time. Slowly, Nic gets up as well, walking out the door to the CIC. Guess he couldn't take anymore either.
When the alien suddenly bursts into the elevator, Nihlus almost falls from his chair as the acid is showering over the marine.
Mara… and this is just the movie.
…
Illium
October 7th
22:11 (Nos Astra time)
Dry Dock D-47
"Gah! I swear if this piece of shit plate won't stay in place, I'm going to lose it!" Magnus yelled, tossing his goggles to the floor where they hit with a resounding clank. Looking up from her work on the makeshift turret, Tara observed how Magnus sweared and cursed over the same plate he had had troubles with for the past week or so.
"Still the plating?"
"Yeah, I don't believe this shit! I had no trouble fitting the graphene-glass for the cockpit, and even the engines were easy enough to repair. This… this fucking plate just keeps sliding out of place, like it's fucking alive, and wants me to lose my cool… if I had any that is." He growled the last bit, giving the plate the finger. Tara sighed;
"Magnus, you've been up for more than twenty hours. If you refuse to go sleep, at least try taking a break. There's a bar nearby where they let you watch the TV, even if you haven't bought anything. Just… go and relax for a few minutes or so, okay? It's going to be a while before I've calibrated the rotation-device for this thing anyway, and I still need the extra plating, the remote controlled grips and the wireless firing-sequences. Please, just go take a break. Even better: take a nap."
"But you've been up for twenty hours too. You need sleep as well." He retorted, slowly getting down from the ladder. The Quarian shook her head;
"Not as much. On Rannoch the days were thirty-six hours long, and we've kept that time-scale on the fleet. So, I'm good to continue."
"Fine… but just holler or something if you need me, okay?"
"I will, now go!" she almost shouted, getting a little irritated over his lack of self-preservation. Putting his hands up in defense, the man left the room, leaving the Quarian alone with her thoughts. 'Holler if I need you'? Oh, if only you… you have no idea how much I need you… she thought, almost falling into a trancelike state before resuming her work.
…
Illium
Dek'har's Sportsbar
22:15 (Nos Astra time)
Leaning back in the cheap, yet soft chair, Magnus felt his eyelids grow heavy. Almost too heavy.
"And in other news. The Citadel Council has yet again refused to explain why they are massing ground-troops on the Presidium, claiming that it is simply in preparation for a military parade. That would then be the first parade ever held on the Citadel, and witnesses report sightings of vehicle-grade heavy weapons and machine-cannons being brought up for display. Humanity's ambassador had no comments to make on the current situation, although he stated that difficult times may lie ahead. Samantha, are they suspecting an attack on the Citadel?" The News speaker-woman said, turning to her colleague, a brunette with long curls;
"That's unknown Susan, although you are right: this doesn't look like a normal parade to me either. We have yet to… hold on a second. Susan, this just came in: Noveria officials have sent out a distress signal, calling for help from any nearby warships and soldiers. They are apparently experiencing a… slaver attack? No? then… what, don't tell me… okay but are you sure that… Dear Lord…" Magnus's eyelids had been flung open once again by the mentioning of Noveria, the last mission he was on with Jane before the incident. But there hadn't been any kind of attack on the main port, and not in a scale that had them signal for help. He decided to pay better attention;
"What is it? we're not on your speakers Samantha." The first woman said.
"It… appears they are experiencing something they call an infestation, from animals…"
"Why would that warrant a distress-signal?" The other woman asked, now clearly as curious as the viewers.
"Did you get that?... hello? Hello?" Something was wrong, and it was clearly shown on the woman's face. A look of dread had settled over her, quickly passing, but it had been there.
"I… we seem to have lost connection to our on-planet source on Noveria… I… think it would be best if younger viewers were escorted out of the room before I continue…" She waited a few moments before resuming;
"Alright… we've got an audio-file. As a matter of fact, it's my source right before he was cut off. I'll roll it now" She said, and a audible static was heard at first, which was also when Magnus realized that every single pair of eyes were glued to the screen.
"This is Padok Wiks of the Salarian STG! We've suffered heavy casualties from unidentified hostiles. I repeat un-identified hostiles! They are not slavers, I repeat; they are not- watch out, another one!" The sound of repeated gunfire filled the room before the voice returned, accompanied by the screams of some kind of creature somewhere in the background. A screaming that for some reason caused the blood to freeze in his veins;
"Hostiles are animals, I repeat animals! They employ pack-like tactics, and they don't seem to care for their own dead. We are firing rounds faster than the guns can cool down, and we've been cut off from the ships still in the spaceport. We are down to less than thirty people, and only a few guns. I can't keep protecting them, we need- AARARGGG, GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF-" Static just filled the air after that, leaving the viewers, as well as the studio, in total silence.
"What… the …. Fuck?" A human next to Magnus exclaimed, having been one of the many glued to the screen as the audio-file played. Magnus slowly looked away from the screen with the first news-woman slowly reaching for a glass of water, only to drop it when her hands shake too much to hold it.
"That's one way to describe it… fjandinn, what just happened?" Magnus mumbled, just loud enough for the guy next to him to hear.
"Hell if I know, but I'm cancelling my stay on Noveria now. If the STG can be taken down, then these animals, or whatever the hell they are, they are not your average Varren." The man responded, giving Magnus a short stare.
"Hey, I recognize you: the crazy who tried jumping from the towers. Seems like you got better already. You okay?" The man said, now fully spun in order to face Magnus. Magnus could feel a chill creeping up his spine, being reminded of his close call with a one-way ticket to the surface of Illium.
"I'm fine, really. I just had a momentary case of depression, coupled with some PTSD. I guess it just sort of snapped for some reason." Magnus was only telling a half lie. He had been diagnosed with Post traumatic stress disorder back a few years after joining the Alliance Navy.
"Damn… if you don't mind me asking… that Quarian who barged in while we were restraining you… sorry for the punch by the way… but, who is she? I don't think I've seen any human/quarian couples like you two before…" His question almost made Magnus forget about the Noveria affair, which already seemed like old news to most of the people in the bar. Chatting had returned to a normal level, with subjects such as fashion, girls and jobs.
"Oh, we're not- I mean, I'm not with- we're just friends." He said, feeling his face heat up. The man gave a short confused stare, then there was a glint of sadness in his eyes.
"Ah… well I just assumed that- since, you know I couldn't get anything out of you, having fainted and all, so I looked at her and… let me just start over, that way it'll be less confusing." He said outstretching his hand;
"Yeoman Conrad Chambers, though people call me Chuck, for short." He said, smile growing a bit as Magnus hesitantly took the hand;
"Eh… Magnus… Magnus Olafur… wait, a yeoman? Like a shrink?" He asked, mentally scratching his head in frustration, not remembering just what a yeoman was.
"Hah, no not exactly, though the two share some roles. I am a sort of 'shrink' working on ships, more specifically the SSV Los Angeles, a neat frigate stationed here for the week. My job consist in monitoring the mental health of the crew on the ship, no small task with more than three hundred crewmembers on board."
"So… you make sure the crews mental health is sound? Funny, how we didn't have that." He thought out loud, forgetting the fact that such words were careless to say out loud.
"Hm? Where did you serve?"
"The… Hong Kong." He said, reciting the first ship name that sprung to mind.
"The Hong Kong? Admiral Anna Fisher's dreadnaught? That's one hell of a ship, why did you leave?"
"Personal reasons. I left the Alliance altogether when an incident cost me the woman of my life." Magnus had some difficulty keeping the pain from mixing up with his otherwise casual voice.
"Damn, sorry about that. Then I guess you and that Quarian aren't… you know?" The Conrad said, obviously trying to change the subject.
"A thing? No, I wouldn't say that. I don't really think she has any interest in me either. I tend to attract species with my own type of DNA…" He said, giving a soft chuckle.
"I don't know about that one. When you collapsed, there was something in her stance, in the way she handled you… it might just be me, being used to evaluate humans and all… evaluating aliens always was my sisters job… anyway, if she had been human, this Quarian…"
"Tara?"
"Yeah, if Tara had been a human woman, I would be 99 on that she had it on for you. But I guess Quarians' body-language means something else. "Conrad said, waving a waiter over, ordering two beers. Magnus was wondering why he would order two for himself when the waiter came back, and Conrad promptly handed him one of the plastic-glasses, shaped like a big pint made from glass. With a nervous 'thank you', and a hesitant motion, he took a small sip from the glass, instantly feeling the old feeling of relief as the cold beverage filled his mouth before he swallowed. Not having had a beer in almost a month, he relished the taste and the familiar feeling as the alcohol started being distributed into his blood. Returning a smile from Conrad, Magnus sighed. It was a sigh of happy relief for the first time in a week.
…
Padok Wiks looked out through the make-shift barricade, looking for signs of the creatures. They had been silent for almost five hours, and the screaming had stopped some time ago. Tentatively touching his now missing left horn, he grimaced at the pain, but was grateful that he hadn't lost more that when the creature had tried ripping off his head. Returning to his post behind the turned-over desk, he looked around him in the hallway, looking to each of the sealed off air-vents. They had early on learned that these creatures, which one of the humans wouldn't stop referring to as Xenos, liked using the air-vents to move around. Blocking off the vents had removed that problem, though he doubted it would be long before they found another way in. Heavy footsteps behind him alerted him to another's presence;
"Anything out there?" The heavy voice of a Krogan said. Looking behind him, Padok recognized and greeted the form of Gatatog Inamorda, the last surviving krogan on Noveria, as far as Wiks was concerned. It had turned out that even the might of a krogan, the supposedly strongest race in the galaxy, hadn't been enough to effectively hold off the alien creatures.
"No, it's silent. I don't know if I'm supposed to say that it's too silent, or just be thankful that the screaming has stopped." The Salarian said, shaking his head.
"I think I'll prefer the second option. The screams were starting to make the other snap. What the hell are those things anyway?" The Krogan asked, leaning against the desk, causing it to creak under the strain.
"Your guess is as good as mine. As far as I know, they came from peak thirteen. I guess an experiment went wrong, as these things aren't native to Noveria. But damn if they aren't behaving as if they own the planet."
"You know… if we die here, I guess I can add another thing to my list of 'I never thought I would get to do this'. "
"What? Killed by horrific alien creatures?" Padok asked, allowing himself a weak smile, despite the situation.
"Nah, go down alongside a Salarian." Inamorda responded with a rough chuckle. Looking at the krogan, Padok caught himself remembering the human phrase 'the worst situations bring people together' He could only agree to that. A Krogan and a member of the STG working together, having each other's backs. That would be next to impossible to achieve otherwise.
"I'll take that as a compliment." The Salarian said, examining his Scimitar-shotgun. The thing had seen more use in the past two days than the rest of his career had given it.
"Yeah well, don't grow all soft on me now Frog-boy. I still don't like you." The Krogan said, not letting the hopelessness of the situation impact on his harsh sense of humor. 'Might as well go down smiling' was his motto. Though he had always thought it would mean being shot and then bleed out smiling. Not being impaled by a sharp tail and eaten by bug-like creatures while smiling. Still, he supposed he could find worse ways to die. Old age was one of them.
"I know, but at least you won't try to-" Padok started, but stopped abruptly when the long line of shining white lights were suddenly shortened out, and after a few seconds, replaced with the ill-boding red lights.
"The hell?" Inamorda cursed, looking at the red light bulbs.
"Go check on the others. Make sure they don't panic, and try raising their morale… I fear we'll need it soon." The Salarian said. The Krogan nodded solemnly and trudged back towards the area where the rest of the group, counting twenty-two people were staying, secured behind massive steel-doors to one side, and the barricade to the other. Watching the krogan walk away, Wiks looked back at the barricade. To think that, only two days ago, there had been more than five-hundred people in the spaceport. Now, he didn't know if he could save any of them.
…
"Wait, we're supposed to be fighting that?" Scorch exclaims, getting up from his seat. The movie is over, and for a short time we contemplated putting on the rest of them, but seeing as the most relevant info was on 'Aliens', Nic decided not to. Thank Mara for that too, I don't know if my stomach could take more of this. Seriously, it is completely different from the original movies; it was like watching a new version of SAW, only much worse.
"Yeah, it doesn't really leave a lot of room for optimism, does it?" Jane says, pinching the bridge of her nose. She has some experience fighting xenos, just like John, Tali, Garrus, Tequila and me. It really puts things in perspective, for once knowing what you are walking into. So far it's been one surprise after another. There were bugs on Therum, there were zombies on Feros, and there are probably even worse things elsewhere. This time though, we know what we're walking into. More or less. Thinking about it, Ripley knew it was bugs as well, or at the very least she suspected it. And they were still torn to shreds.
"How the hell are we supposed to fight five-fucking-hundred of those things? There were less than two-hundred in the movie, and there were more marines than we are." Sev butts in, glaring at Jane as if she somehow holds the answer to that.
"What the hell do you think I spent our last stay on the Citadel on, playing guardian angel?" She says, shooting me a brief look. I don't think anyone else knows about the exchange yet, and that's one secret I would prefer to remain a secret.
"Well, what did you spend time on the Citadel with, now that you bring it up?" John asks her, stepping closer. Jane looks at him, and I would almost say that she is smiling, but in this situation, I guess I'm looking for smiles everywhere. I mean, even Wrex looks pretty nervous, and he's a fucking Krogan. If he is nervous, how can Jane be smiling? No, it must me something I'm just whishing for, and my brain is conjuring up the imagination.
"I take it none of you even bothered checking out those crates I had brought here during shore leave?" Jane says with a small, yet audible sigh. Now that she mentions it, I think there were some crates labeled Elkoss-something down in the shack, but I guess I didn't really pay them much attention.
"Not really, no… but I assume you are going to tell us about them?" John says. Jane just beckons for us to follow, and due to some un-spoken agreement, we all follow her down to the cargo hold. Except for Nic and Tequila. They are nowhere to be seen.
Watching as Kaidan and Jane haul out some crates large enough to each hold a small car, I notice the looks of bewilderment in the eyes of my fellow team. I probably look the same right now, not having the faintest clue as to what's going on. We were only on the Citadel for about one and a half day, how could Jane have had time to get this? And more importantly, what is this? That's also when I notice that there are fourteen containers, oddly enough one for each of us. I wonder if it's a new type of gun, or if she has been shopping for armor… but how the hell could she afford something like that anyway? Noticing our stares, Kaidan's included, Jane gestures at the crates;
"Well come on, open them. I am pretty sure there's one for each, just don't mix up the human and Turian types." She says, walking over to the closest of the crates, a big grey and red one, and starts opening the lid. Following her example, we all move to one of the crates to see for ourselves. Unclasping the lid on my crate, I gently lift it off, uncovering a large mass of foam-balls, meant for protecting the contents of the crate. Rummaging through the white stuff, my hands suddenly hit something hard and metallic. Tearing the isolative material away, I gasp. There' really no other way to describe the sound coming from my mouth, but a silent scream of joy and surprise might work as well. From what I can hear, that reaction is pretty common right now.
"Holy Hell Jane! Where the fuck did you get this?!" I almost shout, though I manage to keep it to a speaking volume as I gaze upon what most would call 'Christmas comes early'.
This is where I let you guys guess just what Jane has gotten the crew, and more importantly, how she managed it. Well, I'm not telling ;)
Alright, how was that for a prelude to a mother-F'in disaster? Noveria, and more specifically Port Hanshan seems to be in a deep-shit situation, as some old "friends" has made their appearance on the coorporative ball of ice. Figured it was time to bring those guys back, seeing as this is a crossover.
As I said, it was really my intention to publish this chapter tomorrow night, but as the popular saying on the internet goes; "Fuck the police!"
...well, sort of. Actually it's more of a "fuck the rules", but... mnaah, it just sounded funnier to me.