Damn, I dislike finals. don't get me wrong, I look forward to six-seven weeks of laziness... actually I don't, but the Finals are a bitch... can I use that word here? Never mind, I won't trouble you people with my own problems...unless you offer money?
Ach, just kidding :)
Anyway, I think it's about time we kicked Noveria in the balls and said goodbye to that iceball.
If you notice any and all incoherencies (Spelled right?) in this chapter, I'd be happy if you let me know... also, they are most likely the result of writing right after having had either Ale or wine... well, I write better when I've had a single glass, gives me ideas, you know?
Okay, before I end up writing something embarrasing, I think we'll just get right on with the chapter. Oh, by the way, seeing as the poll is closed, I think you guys should know that, big surprise, Master Chief won. Damn that guy seems to be quite popular, doesn't he? Probably because the whole slip-space portal thing makes it plausible for him to end up everywhere from Highrule to Star Wars... oh well, he might just drop in here as well. I'm going to attemp to make his appearance a bit more... original though, seeing as he if always found in that ship of his. Don't get me wrong, I like those stories. There's one where he and Jane Shepard get together... although I can't remember the name of the story, it is a good one. Still, having him in the next book means I have to do a loooooot of research to nail him down.
Alright, that... was a bit longer than I planned for.
Remember to alert me to errors and mistakes storywise, like suddenly having a human John Shepard. Just an example, relax! I think we have enough Shepards, don't you?
Anyway, onwards to the story! :)
Licking one's wounds
October 10th
Normandy Mess Hall
22:42 (Hanshan Time)
This can't be happening.
This just can't be happening.
I know what I'm looking at right now, I know it's real. But at the same time, I refuse to believe it. My brain refuses to accept what's going on inside the med-bay. Refuses to accept the reason why Chakwas as well as Ashley are running around like startled chickens, seemingly not knowing what to do, and… I don't blame them.
The crowd outside the med-bay has dwindled to being just us six: Me, Boss, Tequila, Fixer, Jane and John, while the rest have returned to a somewhat routine, although I don't think anyone from the ground team can find it in themselves to actually get some work done.
I know I wouldn't be able to.
Not while looking at the three figures placed on each their bed or gurney. Not while looking at a scene that would have made me throw up and scream and cry just a month ago. This… this is the worst I've ever seen in my life.
My eyes can't… I can't tear them from the three figures on the gurneys, no matter how much I want to. next to me, Fixer is breaking down, hard.
He hasn't removed his helmet, but that doesn't prevent the rest of us from being able to hear his sobbing, and none of us move to stop him as he bangs his fists on the floor, cursing and swearing in whatever language he was raised in.
I don't know if anyone's actually paying that much attention to him at all though, seeing as the scene playing out in front of us has a more… demanding nature.
The worst part is, we can't hear what Ashley or Chakwas are saying, only see their facial expressions, or what of their faces that the masks don't cover. None of them look particularly cheerful when concerning Kaidan. The Lieutenant's face… I can't see it. No one can, and as far as I know, we can't do anything about it for the moment. One of the… atrocities, abominations of the very meaning of life, is clinging to his face. Chakwas already tried removing it, but was stopped by a shouting Tequila before she tried cutting through the finger-like appendixes of the creature. From what I could see, pulling it off didn't work either, seeing as it only caused the tail around the LT's neck to become tighter, and threaten to block his air-flow. Of course, we all know what it is doing. My heart, and my entire body is cringing in disgust and fear, knowing full well what's going to happen to him if we don't find some way to remove the… to help him. This is not real! I… this…
Inside the med-bay, next to Kaidan, Scorch is lying on one of the gurneys, his armor off and his left knee wrapped tightly in bandages, mainly to prevent the heavy bleeding he is suffering from at the moment. He is, or seems to be, unconscious, and I'm glad he is, as he would no doubt be screaming in pain from the wound he somehow received back on the port. On his left leg, just below the knee, nothing but a thin and corroded, acid-eaten stump remains from his shin and down. Something has stripped all flesh from the bone, and the only reason his boot hasn't been removed as well, is because, and this is just a guess, the armored boot and the flesh on his foot has melted and fused into one mass. I can understand why the docs are wearing those masks, as the sickening sweet stench of molten flesh is carried through the vents and fills the mess hall. For fucks sake it stinks!
The remaining flesh on his bone, as well as the flesh at the end of his knee, has turned black, and is sizzling and boiling, causing blisters to appear and burst, covering the gurney he's lying on with black spots and marks from the dropping liquid. The person next to Scorch though… I've never seen this kind of… destruction. To be honest, I'm not even sure why they brought him to the med-bay.
Sev… or, what's left of him, takes up the gurney next to Scorch. It's a sight not even Wrex could look at with indifference, seeing as the big Krogan was one of the first to leave the windows. I'm not even sure why I'm still here, how I haven't simply bent over and thrown up. The body, if you could call it that, though the description 'meat and burned plastic' suits it…him… better right now. The front of the clone looks like it has been lying face down in a burning oil pitch, then ripped to pieces by a pair of big hands. Most of it is gone, actually, and the armor itself has been bent and distorted in sick ways, many places simply burying itself in the body of the clone. I suppose it is a small grace that the body, and even the face, is so badly burned that it doesn't bleed. The wounds, and even the very blood apparently, no longer attains the nature of organic tissue, as it has been either evaporated or simply dried out by the fire and heat. It doesn't make his… body, any more of a pleasant view. For Mara's sake, someone cover him!
Finally not being able to take it anymore, I leave the window, heading for the elevator. As I step into it, I notice, perhaps for the first time, how silent it is. There's no music, no chatter heard through the walls, no creaking of metal, no sound from the engines of the ship. Just the silence that comes with a ship in mourning. I suppose that really is the best way to describe the atmosphere on the ship right now, seeing as Sev may not have been the most popular guy onboard, but that didn't mean he wasn't respected and actually liked by many. It is like this drunken guy that no one really talks to in the bar, but yet when he disappears, everyone is frantic and searching for him. A few might even cry.
Oddly enough, that's something I'm not capable of for the moment.
As the lift ends its journey in the cargo hold, I walk towards the Mako, without really thinking about it. Much of my mind is clouded, or just preoccupied with thinking about Sev, Kaidan and Scorch. While my brain is conjuring up the most horrific scenarios imaginable, including how exactly they each received their injuries and death, I reach the Mako, and pick up a tool that bears a strange resemblance to the welder one would use in repairing a car or sealing a door. Something in my head tells me I'm seeing something I've seen before, but it goes largely ignored, due to the fact that we have one, maybe soon two or three, dead people in the med-bay.
Sev… Kaidan… Scorch;
"AAAAAAAARRRGGGHH! For fucks sake you fucking piece of fucking cow-shit universe with YOUR FUCKING sense of karma or whatever you fucking justify this with!" I finally lose it, and send the welder flying at the hull where it impacts with a resounding boom, making the entire room echo with the noise for a few moments.
"It's not fair! It's…not…FAIR! I-hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrr, it's not- it's for fucking-hahahahah...Oooooohhh Gods!" My knees buckle, sending me to the floor where I end up sitting against the Mako, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, sinking my face down to look at my own abdomen. The cold waves of dread wash over me, and I feel the tears forming in my eyes. Fuck it all… fuck the game, fuck Hudson and fuck the Reapers…
"We're all going to die anyway… " I mumble to myself, feeling the tears flow down my face, mixed with the occasional blob of saliva following the tears. Why do I always have to drool when I'm crying? I look like a fucking retard…Damn it all.
Having sat like this for some time, I've only succeeded in soaking my uniform's chest area, as well as griming up my lower face. I weakly extend a hand to check the crono on my armor's wrist:
23:22
Hmpf…
So I've been sitting like this for… about half an hour, I think. And I'm still alone down here. No one's come to check on me, to see where I went or if I'm alright. I suppose… that's because everyone's minds are focused on trying to either save Scorch's life, if he's even still with us, or supporting Fixer and Boss.
As much as they, Boss in particular, might try to hide it, I think losing Sev twice, both times while he was in command… it must have done something to Boss, and Fixer… Fixer isn't even trying to hide it: the guy is broken. As much as they have been born and bred for… this, the fact that they are just as human as the rest of the humans on the ship is making itself clear now, with how they are handling the loss. And I'm just sitting here feeling sorry for myself… fuck it all.
With some sort of clarity, I find the will or the strength, I don't know which, and get to my feet, ignoring the pain in my legs from having sat in the same position for apparently more than half an hour. I can't do shit to help Scorch, that's Chakwas' job. And Ash's. Me? I wouldn't be able to do more than blow on his wounds or wiping away the liquids from the gurney. But maybe I can still help Kaidan, as fucked up as it sounds. I at least have an idea.
A few minutes later, I exit the elevator at the third floor or deck. Turning right, I head past the crew quarters, and straight for the brig. On the way there, I manage to wipe away enough drool and tears to appear somewhat cool and collected. I think.
Jacob hasn't moved from his spot, seated on the bed provided to him, and hasn't yet, surprise, touched the WC. Again, I suppose I wouldn't either, with cams and all. I don't know why, but he looks a bit unsettled by the way I approach the door to his cell, looking him directly in the eye. Maybe, just maybe all of this isn't his fault, but given his ties, there's a damn good chance he knows who did, and if that fucker is still alive, he or she could know how to remove a chestburster from person without killing him. Right now, I don't care if Jacob trusts me or not. If he knows something, he'll help. If he knows something but refuses to help, I hurt him. I honestly don't care about the 'consequences' my actions might have in the future anymore, not after this.
"What's all the commotion with the med-bay… and what happened to your face?" He actually has the audacity to speak first, tempting me to open the door and hit him. No, I tell myself. He just asked out of curiosity, not spite. Calm the fuck down.
"Jacob, listen to me, and listen carefully, like your life depended on it, okay?" I say, starring him straight in the eye. He nods. Well, his life does depend on it, and I suspect he might have realized that.
"Do you know anyone, anyone outside this planet who helped with this project? Anyone who knows anything about these creatures?" I have to restrain myself from shouting at him, and at the same time I also have to wipe my face several times to prevent the tears from forming again. Fuck it, not right now!
For a few moments, he looks like he's contemplating what or if he's going to say something. I can feel my fists curling up with each second he doesn't say anything.
"I… think I might know someone. I know this might be stretching it, but can I get access to a comm. system?" Does he even have to ask? If it can save Kaidan, I'd let him pilot the ship if possible.
"Yeah, sure… I'll… see if I can find a long-range transmitter…" I say, rushing off for the crew-quarters.
Having rummaged through every sort of tech I could find in there, I dig out the lap-top, figuring that if my old laptop could Skype around the globe, this should be able to reach whoever Jacob needs to speak to. I run back to the cell with the computer and open the door without even a second of hesitation;
"Fine, now contact that guy or girl and ask for help!" I sneer, placing the laptop in his lap with a rushed motion. Having given me a quick glance, he starts typing away on the laptop, and ends up with opening what looks like a modern version of Skype. Who he's calling, I've got no idea, though I have a few suspects.
After a few minutes, he apparently makes contact;
"Hey… Miri, wake up!" He says to the screen, and confirms my suspicions. Why am I not even surprised that Miranda had something to do with this sick project? It takes a few moments for the woman on the other end to answer though, and I can feel my patience being worn down by the second.
"Mm? Ja-Jacob? Why are you calling at this infernal hour?" the speakers of the computer carries her voice without the slightest distortion.
"Well… I guess you could say my mission went FUBAR… We've…. got a problem. More than one in fact." He says, constantly shooting me a nervous look.
"Why, what did you mess up this time?" She says, an annoyed tone filling the brig. This is going too gods dammed slow…
"We arrived here, after having found out that both the Normandy and a Turian Hierarchy ship were located here to deal with the infestation, and the scientists? Afraid they're dead…"
"Even Professor Nielson? Adam and Sue?" She asks, her voice a bit more slow now, as if she's sad. Well she's about to become a lot fucking sadder if… fuck this, I can't wait for them to finish chatting!
"Yeah… I'm afra- hey!" Jacob seems to mind that I'm suddenly snatching the laptop from him, using my left hand to hold it while I walk out the door and shut it after me. Jacob took too long, Kaidan will die at this rate.
Looking at the screen, I faced with a rapidly covering-up and flustered Miranda, obviously just out of bed. Hmpf… didn't know the ice-queen needed sleep…
"Who the- Wait… Fisher! Why are you there, what's happened to Jacob?!" she sneers, but I couldn't give less of a fuck about her mood. Right now I'm trying to save Kaidan, and she's probably the only one who knows how to remove a chestburster without bathing the patient in acid.
"He's fine for the moment, a guest of us, if you really want to know Miranda. Why am I not surprised in the least that you would be one of the few bitches cold-hearted enough to breed Xenos?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, and even if I did, why would I help you?" I swear, this woman…
"One: I know you, and what you're like, so it stands to reason that you would engage yourself with implanting innocents with fucking chestbursters. I bet you told them they were helping humanity, am I right?" I ask with a sneer, but continue before she can respond;
"And two, the reason why you would want to help me: If not, one of my team-members is going to die a very cruel death, and as a response John'Shepard will be entertaining his revenge on Jacob, as will the colleagues of the commando killed in action here. In short, help us, or we send Jacob back to you, one finger and ball at a time, that's why." I finish with a sneer apparently powerful enough to put her off balance. Good…
"You wouldn't dare hurt him." Is that fright in her voice? Even better…
"You don't know me Miranda. You don't want to find out what I'm capable of. Now, you fucking listen to me, or I start with sending one of Jacobs ears back to Zeus station."
"That location is-"
"Was a secret. Now listen: One from my team has been infected with a chestburster. I know what happens when it matures, so you are going to tell me how to remove it without bathing his innards in xeno-blood. Got it?" For a few moments, she doesn't say anything, while I'm starring at her. I don't give a fuck that's she's practically naked, only covered by a sheet. I wonder if revealing that I even know the color of her bra would make her even more stressed out… later, that's for later.
"Fine… I assume you have a doctor onboard the ship?"
"Of course we do."
"The give me a moment to get dressed, take the computer to him or her, and I'll try and talk your doctor through it." She says in an annoyed tone. I scoff, not being sure on how to react. On one hand, doing what she says makes sense, like doctors using robots to operate over distance, but on the other hand, it feels like letting her win if I… No, this is about Kaidan. Win or lose, I don't give a shit. If she can save him, I'm willing to risk John having a fit about her 'presence' here…
"Fine, you have one minute, then I'm heading for the med-bay. And you better be able to help."
…
Normandy
Deck two - Mess hall and Med-bay
23:35 (Hanshan time)
"Thomas? Why are you walking around with a computer?" Garrus asks as I'm marching from the elevator to the med-bay. I suppose it does look a bit weird, walking around with an open laptop.
"How's Kaidan's condition?" I ask him, seeing as he's the only one here, besides Tequila and Fixer, the latter seemingly having fallen asleep in a chair with his forehead on the table. The Turian shakes his head;
"Not any better. Scans have shown that the… facehugger, is shoving something down his throat, like an organic pipe or something, but we can't get it off, and Chakwas is afraid to start operating, in case the thing stops feeding Kaidan oxygen if she does. In other words, we're nowhere closer being able to help him."
"Fucking… Ghaaah… never mind, I've been in contact with someone who might be able to help… just keep the commander and Tali out of the room while I'm doing this, okay?" I realize my question or order, either way, must sound incredibly stupid, as his face contorts into a frown.
"Ehm… who exactly are you on the comm. with?"
"Promise you won't tell either of them?"
"Sure…" He says, although a low rumble or growl tells me that he doesn't necessarily like it.
"It's the woman I met at the exchange, the one with the blonde hair. She was… is, one of the project-leaders of the stuff here on Noveria, so she will know what to do." I say in a low voice.
"And… if she doesn't?"
"Then we send Jacob back to her, one piece at a time…" I can't prevent the sneer from re-appearing, and I doubt it suits me.
"Sounds like a plan I can agree to." He says as I enter the med-bay, where the body of Sev has been covered, and Scorch remains unconscious. One of the first things I notice though, is how much the stench in here is worse than outside. The smell of burning or melting human flesh has always been disgusting to me. The two doctors in there, Ash and Chakwas, look genuinely surprised to see me in here.
"I'm sorry Corporal, but it's best if you're not in here right now." Chakwas says, then noticing the laptop;
And… why are you carrying that along with you?" She says, while Ash seems to confused to be able to utter a single word. I quickly check the screen, and turn the Skype-like program back on, making Miranda come to life on screen;
"I… this is Miranda Lawson, former head of the project here on Noveria, and hopefully, for her, she will be able to help us remove the parasite without killing Kaidan, am I right Miranda?" I ask with a scowl, also noticing the sudden hostility in Ashley's eyes as she looks at Miranda. Oh boy…
…
Normandy mess hall
23:50 (Hanshan time)
The mess hall is still quiet, like before. The only difference is that Liara has joined the group now, bringing us up to five people waiting around. Fixer is still asleep at the table, face down on the hard surface. No one really have the heart to wake him unless there is a change in Scorch's status. For now though, he'll live. I have no idea where Boss is though, seeing as he hasn't been here more than once, and then he just stood and looked through the window without saying a word. After a few minutes of starring at his two brothers, he just left again, headed for the elevator.
I wonder if I should be worried about Jacob, seeing as nothing really prevents Boss from going down there and letting his anger out on the only face of Cerberus he can find and touch.
Liara looks about as bad as before, with her makeup running down her cheeks. As bizarre as it might be, this is the first time I've realized that Asari use makeup as well. I wonder though, about her and Scorch. It looked so awkward in the cargo-bay, back before Noveria, so I assumed it was kinda one-sided with her and Scorch. Seeing her like this, I'm just not so sure anymore. This situation is tearing her up. I suck at reading people, and even I can see how she feels. I won't blame her though, no one will. Companionship, as easily as it comes to some people, requires a great deal of trust and time for others. I won't even try and stop her if she decides this is all Jacob's fault. I may have a spirit on my side, but I hold no illusions of surviving an attack from her.
I wonder why Tequila is here though, seeing as she barely knows Kaidan, at least what I have been able to gather. It could be that she is simply worried for a fellow crewmember, and has come to offer any help she can. I honestly don't know, and even I know how sick and wrong it would be to ask her why she is here. Even I am not that stupid.
Garrus hasn't said a word since he found out who Miranda is, and has instead just sat and looked at the window. Just like me, I suppose.
After I don't know how long, Ashley suddenly comes to the window with something in hand. After a moment of disbelief, I recognize the thing in her grip: The Facehugger.
"So… it's finally dead. I wonder what they'll do now…" Tequila says, following it all with great interest. I nod, not knowing what else to say.
…
October 11th
Normandy mess Hall
00:11 (Hanshan time)
"Gods I'm getting tired… anyone know how it's going in there?" I ask, looking on my crono, noticing that it's tomorrow already, or it's today, but… Gods, I need some tea… scratch that: Coffee. I slowly get up from my seat, heading for the kitchen where Fixer is hanging over the sink, looking like he aged ten years in ten hours. I can understand him, having lost first one brother, now risking losing another. I think Scorch will survive his injuries, but treating people for xeno-wounds isn't practice among doctors, so I honestly can't tell. They are probably going to remove the leg, given its state.
"Hey…" Fixer says as he acknowledges my presence.
"Hey. You… alright?" I ask him, putting my mug down on the table to be able to look at him without risking pouring coffee over my hands.
"Yes… no…yes, I don't know. There's so much I don't know anymore. First I believe there's only one dimension, then we end up here. Then I believe it to be a dream when we meet Sev again, and then… Tequila, it was… then she reveals that my entire past, the past and present of the Republic, is all a fictional universe to some people here… then we arrive here, and lose… and lose… lose Sev, to those monsters. Now? Now Scorch, one of the two remaining brothers I have, is lying in there, with his leg chewed off, and may have to lose it. And… and…" He stops himself, tremors going through him, causing him to shake and grip the edges of the sink to stabilize himself.
"I'm sorry… should I go?"
"N-No… no, not… you don't have to. It's just… I can come to terms with death and blood, grew up with it. But no one, not even the Jedi, would bother recovering a dead clone unless he had some vital intelligence. And yet, Kaidan he… risked, risks, his life by going into this big room to get the body that even me and Boss weren't willing to look for. And because we weren't there, Kaidan gets this thing on his face, and could die as well… I just… all I knew to be true… my world is coming apart at the seams, and I don't know if that's good or bad. I grew up learning that my life wasn't worth shit, that I had to die for the Republic, and I had to like it. Now I'm suddenly treated like a regular person, and I have to deal with other people feeling sorry for me." He says, then stops his rant after a long, deep breath.
"You are not accustomed to being treated like a real person, or having people, other than your team care for you… I think I understand. I don't know what it's like, but I think I understand. Coffee? It'll be good for your nerves." I try with a smile, but it doesn't seem to work as well as I could have hoped.
"You're pretty smart for someone your age… and yes, I'd like that." He says, turning his sad frown into what I can almost call a smile. Although the sadness and dread is still evident in his eyes. I turn to make an extra cup, and return with it to him, having remained in the same place as before. He accepts the cup, and brings it to his nose, sniffing in the smell of mashed and powdered coffee-beans.
"I suppose that comes with having a divine being use my head as an apartment and a speaker." I say with a shrug, taking a sip from my own coffee while watching the window. I can see Scorch from here, still lying still as if in some kind of coma. What I can't see is Kaidan and the two women. I suppose that means they are operating on him or something, I don't know.
"I suppose it does…" He says before taking a swig from the cup; "What's it like?"
"Having Roku in my head?"
"Yeah… is it painful or disturbing or?" This is the first time anyone's asked me this, and as much as I find it to be a bit weird discussing, I suppose anything that can get Fixer's mind of off Scorch, will be a good thing to discuss.
"A proper comparison would be to have a Jedi constantly inside your head, talking via the force… or however they do that mind-thing."
"So… he can control your thoughts?" The clone looks a bit uncomfortable with the prospect of having a potential brain-washed on the team. I put down my mug and raise my hands in a, I think, reassuring manner;
"No, no… he can control my body in the case of me being close to death, like I was back in the port. Then he pulls some sick spirit-stuff that would make Dooku soil his drawers, and I end up with brief amnesia and a headache that could kill a droid."
"Sounds… entertaining."
"It is… for Roku." I reply with a smile. As much as I've actually largely ignored Fixer in the past, he's a good guy to talk to.
"I wonder if Kaidan's going to be alright…" Fixer says, looking back at the med-bay.
…
04:13 (Hanshan time)
"How long has it been?" I ask, lifting my face from the table. I must have fallen asleep, despite the coffee. Next to me, Garrus places a hand on my shoulder.
"About four hours…" He says with a solemn voice. I don't like it.
"You don't sound very cheery?"
"It's… It's Kaidan." He says, looking away. My stomach immediately becomes a lake of ice. Oh Mara, don't tell me he's…
"What?" I dare ask, fearing what might come next. Suddenly Garrus smiles at me;
"He's gonna make it. Lawson apparently made a crucial difference in the surgery, and they got the bug out of him, squealing and everything." He says. The Turian is one big smile, even a human can see that.
"So… he's going to be alright?" I ask with eyelids about to fall down again. I'm tired as hell, but if what Garrus is saying is true, then I'm also really glad as well.
"Yeah. Docs say he just need some rest now. As… do we all I think." I nod to him, slowly getting up from the table and the chair I've apparently spent the last four hours on. As soon as I move, I can feel the truth in that statement, as my hindquarters are screaming from the pain. As I practically limp for the elevator, I notice Ashley is coming out from the med-bay as well, joining the 'crowd' headed for the elevator. The smile on her face tells me everything I might have needed to know, and helps my mood back to where it was before we even arrived on this hellhole of a planet.
"Great job Beautiful. I think Kaidan will be in…*yawn* in your debt forever… damn, I'm tired… you?" I say, although the longing for my bunk is starting making conversing a bit harder.
"Ready to drop dead… but it was worth… worth…*yawn* worth it. Kaidan is safe, and we spaced the critter, making sure we were rid of it…" Wait…spaced?
"Are we *yawn* are we in orbit or something?" I ask, leaning back against the wall in the elevator. Ash follows my example while Fixer slides to the floor, starting to snore. I thought the clones slept in in the pods?
"Yeah… I think we left the surface an hour ago or something… Godammit I'm ready to hit the deck…I mean sheets… and that thing? Ugh, it was disgusting to handle, even with gloves on."
"I can *Yawn* Imagine…" I say as we exit the elevator headed for our quarters. Every person in the group heads for their bed, and drops down on it. Fixer though… what happened to him? Looking back, I realize he's still stuck snoring away in the elevator.
With a tired sigh, I go back and grab his arms, hauling him into the crew-quarters and dropping him on Kaidan's bed. No use in worrying about places now, and I head back to my own bunk as well, tossing my shoes and uniform off and climbing under the pillows. If… anyone wakes me before 09:00, he or she follows the bug out the airlock…
…
"Get up corporal, you've overslept." A female voice says, dragging me out of bed and onto the floor with a hard bump, causing my shoulder to flare up in pain.
"Gaahhh…. Go to hell…. I iz tired… sleep now…" I mutter, climbing back in bed. A bed that isn't there anymore.
"It's go to hell ma'am!" the woman says again, forcing me to look up at whoever is speaking.
"Fine… fine what i- what the fuck?" I shout as I look upon the… person who threw me out of bed. The entire body is that of an Asari, utterly naked and displaying all the physical similarities to human women. The head…. above the shoulder rests a trio of heads, Jane, Anna and Miranda.
"I said get up! We have to conquer Korhal, and the Zerg are invading. Get in your gear!" I lift myself up without really knowing why or how, and suddenly I find myself in some sort of weird blue armor. It even makes me two meters tall. What the hell? Can I fly? I flail my arms up and down, noting how it lifts me off the ground. And what is a Zerg?
"Cool… Hey Raynor, you ready?" A man says. For some reason, I know he's talking to me, so I turn around to see another big suit or whatever it is, standing next to me. The helmet is off, and shows the head of a nearly bald man with a cigar in his mouth. Who the fuck are you, and who the hell am I to you?
"Yeah buddy… I'm ready." I say. Okay, so I guess I'm ready… for what?
"Good, we're-incoming!" He shouts, and suddenly I find myself on the surface of a planet, with what looks like stars falling to the ground around me.
"We are infinite, you are bacteria!"
"We are the carebears, here to spread fun, love AND DEATH!" What in the name of fuck? A whole legion of pissing teddy-bears are marching towards me and the guy in the blue armor, shooting stars at us. Without even thinking, I bring up a gun that would make the terminator piss himself, and open fire at the beings, shredding their ranks.
"Yeah baby, get some!" The man shouts, using his bare hands to rip apart a teddy bear, all the while they have all become Ewoks, and are throwing stones at us, as well as spears.
"Our numbers will darken the sky on EVERY WORLD!"
"Dieeeeeeee! For the Empire!" Suddenly the man has been replaced with Imperial Storm Troopers, and they all storm some hill in a poorly animated forest, shooting laser at teddy bears while getting hit with… flying pooh? Why am I in a gorilla-cage, and why are all the animals looking at me from outside the pen? And why are they all collectors. About the time one of the pieces of pooh hits my shoe, a voice booms through the air.
"I know you feel this human!"
"Noooo, I don't want to smell it!" I shout, sitting up in bed so quickly that I smash my head into the bunk above me, waking the guy above me, who happens to be some Latin dude with a Mohawk and big biceps.
"Oi, oi, oi! Que pasa Loco?" He grunts, hammering a fist into the bars in the bed. What did he just call my mother?
"Sorry what now?" I grumble, rubbing my sore forehead while I'm looking at the time. It's seven thirty-two. Odd, normally we would be hauled out of bed by six-o'clock. Well, not that I'm complaining… more sleep for me the-
"Alright assholes, breakfast is ready, so get ye arses up and get some grub." The voice of Nicolai shouts. And why is he speaking with a Scottish accent… and why does his shirt say "I 3 Haggis"
"Damn right people. Ok, sweethearts, what are you waiting for? Breakfast in bed? It's another glorious day in the Corps. A day in the Marine Corps is like a day on the farm; every meal a banquet, every pay check a fortune, every formation a parade. I love the Corps!" A man next to me suddenly starts shouting while he's marching up and down the floor. The weirdest thing is, I've seen this guy before. Well, that isn't weird, seeing as I've been here for more than two months now. The weird thing is, that he is dead, and is called Stg. Apone. Also we're no longer in the crew-quarters, but are all rising from cryo-sleep chambers.
"Wait a… I'm still asleep, aren't I?" I ask to no one in particular. Suddenly the sergeant comes to stand in front of me, and opens his mouth with the same ghastly glow as the hallucinations on Feros;
"Make us whole!"
October 11th
09:11
I fly from my bed and onto the floor, hitting it face-first and almost breaking my nose in the process. After realizing that I'm not waking anyone up, I look around. That's when I notice that it's because I'm actually the only one in here. Dammit, I must have overslept. I swear, if I find the douche who turned off my alarm-clock, I'm gonna… wait a second, I don't even have an alarm-clock.
"Now… I have been quite busy tonight, so…"
"Let me guess, that was what caused the most fucked up dream I've had in a month?"
"I'm afraid so, yes… now, I have some good news, aaaand some bad news." Roku says, causing me to rub my eyes and remember the fucked up feeling of a flying feces shouting 'you feel this' and having Apone bellow that creepy thing the hallucinations screamed at me on Feros. I groan inwardly, almost fearing what comes next. Give it to me doc, how long do I have?
"Well… that was a joke, right? Never mind, the good news are that I have successfully repaired all trauma and damage to your neural network."
"And the bad news?" I raise a brow at the wall.
"Well… I may have had a hand in your deterioration. You see, when I take control, especially like what happened on Noveria, it tends to damage part of your brain. Hence the rather bad behavior and all the headaches. Still, there is something else that hurts you… part of your brain, the part that controls empathy and what some would call 'the ability to determine right from wrong' is being harmed by occasional ultra-sound… and I have no idea as to the source. Suspects, yes… but actual ideas? No."
"Great… but I'm okay for now?"
"Should be yes… though I suspect some solution must be found to the problem of me hurting you… meditation perhaps?"
…
"Well look who's finally up!" Garrus shouts, causing the group at the table to look up at me. The group isn't all that big actually. Mostly it's the people from the mess hall last night, John and Tali. I breathe in through my nose, catching the aroma of oatmeal and butter, synthetic as it may be, as well as sugar.
While the others return to their conversing, I grab a bowl and pour some of the gluey stuff onto it, before nestling down in my usual spot, greeted 'good morning' with a cheek-kiss from Ash, seeing as I have yet to brush my teeth,, and as such my breath could kill a xeno. If only…
"Morning guys… and girls." I say with a smile, nudging Ash's neck while using my left hand to operate the spoon to follow orders. It's harder than it sounds.
"Morning Thomas. I trust you enjoyed being able to sleep for more than three hours?" John asks, although with some… distance? In his voice. I shrug it off. I'm just imagining stuff I'm sure.
"Very much sir. Staying up till shit'o clock has a way of messing with my inner clockworks." I say with a smile as I finish my breakfast.
After a few minutes of conversing, the group breaks up, each heading to their respective posts. I place my bowl next to the others', granting Nicolai the funny job of the dishwasher and cleaner. Hey, I got him a job, I have a right to be just a little smug, no? As the other leave, I notice John is waiting for me, beckoning for me to go to him.
"Yes Commander?" I ask, having fallen into the role of a soldier. It really does give the ship a more professional atmosphere.
"I have some things I would like to discuss with you. What are your thoughts on the last mission?" He asks, seemingly wanting my open and honest opinion. Not that I would give anything else, but it helps when a guy gets asked for it.
"Permission to speak freely sir?"
"You know you don't need that on my ship. Shoot." He says as we walk through the room towards the elevator.
"It's bullshit sir, pure bullshit. We went in there to save people, and what did we end up with? Minus one living crewmember, one with a leg less than when he arrived, and we almost lost Kaidan. We didn't save a single one, out of the five-hundred or so people there. And now the council is gonna be on our asses because we didn't get them any live toys. I say screw it. if they want a bug, they can go get it themselves… sir."
"I agree, but actually we did manage to save someone."
"We… did, John?"
"Yes… a small kid by the name of Bashír, I think. He's sleeping in the captain's cabin right now, and Chakwas is with him. Only person on this whip who wouldn't startle him I think…"
"Christ… how did he survive?" I ask as we enter the elevator.
"Seemingly, he was saved by Scorch and Sev, as well as a Salarian who was later killed when we arrived. Stabbed through the back by a tail… those screams… but the kid seems alright. We haven't been able to get anything from Scorch yet, and the boy is asleep for now. We'll see if he has some family one the Citadel, or perhaps on Illium…"
"Damn… out of all those people, one kid survives… reminds me of the movie, if you don't mind me saying so, sir." I say as we exit the elevator on deck three.
"No worries, I've had that thought myself. But, there is something else I want to talk to you about. The surgery of Lieutenant Alenko was only a success because of a female doctor who helped direct the operation from a laptop. A laptop you brought inside the med-bay… who was that woman, and how did she know how to remove a parasite of that type?"
"Oh… I… don't know how to respond to that sir. I was honestly just looking for something that could save Kaidan, and came across her." It isn't a total lie, but not the truth either. At least I feel bad about lying to him, so I should be fine again. Well, 'me'-fine, that is.
"Now… let's address the matter of our guest here, shall we?" John says, and I suddenly realize just why and where we are: Right next to Jacob's cell. Crap, if he tells John… No, I need to come clean before Jacob says something negative…
"Ehm… Shepard, can I talk to you real quick?" I ask, verbally tugging him away from the cell. When we get some distance to the brig, I stop with my back to John, and breathe in. This was not exactly what I had in mind, and John will butcher me if he finds out I've been making 'deals' with members of Cerberus.
"Okay, what is it?" John asks with a curious, yet demanding voice.
"Alright… John, you know that where I come from, all of this has already happened, and Hudson made a second story about his stay here, right?" I ask, praying that he might actually remember it.
"Yes… as disturbing as it is, that's what I've understood. About two or so years from now, am I right?"
"Completely. Well, the xeno's weren't part of Hudson's retelling, but the general happenings haven't changed yet. Listen, before you decide what to do with Jacob, or by extension his men, there are some things you need to know, to understand my actions, so to speak." I just know I'm saying all the wrong words, because John's posture is getting more and more strained, like he is impatient for me to get to the point.
"Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this?"
"Alright… first: John, not all members of Cerberus are evil bastards who enjoy making aliens suffer. People like Jacob are simply in it to protect humanity, not to stomp on aliens… okay that might have been pronounced badly, but… okay. The Doctor who helped Chakwas and Ash save Kaidan? She… is also a member of Cerberus. And before you assume anything: No, I'm not in any way at all involved with Cerberus." Actually I might have broken some rules on interrogation with my threats…
"Why… why would I think you were with Cerberus? That would be plain stupid, if you ask me." Relief washes over me as I hear those words. Okay, so round one is home. Now I just need to get him to spare and maybe even free Jacob and his crew. Cerberus or not, they did save our lives.
"But then there is the matter of Mister Taylor… you seem to know him quite a bit. What sort of person is he, and why should I stop the eventual vengeance that Boss or Fixer might try to enact on him?" Okay… this one is going to be a bit harder to pull off.
"From what I know of Jacob, he is a dependable sort of guy, doesn't hate anyone, is loyal to his commanding officer, as well as his men, before himself. He is a pretty nice guy, once you get to know him, and would stop to help a Quarian, just as he would a human. But, if you threaten humanity, like the Reapers are doing, he won't leave you standing. All in all, he isn't the bad guy Cerberus mostly consists of."
For a long time, John looks like he doesn't know what to say, and I don't blame him. He has spent the majority of his adult life hating and fearing Cerberus, and now I'm asking him to not hate a member of Cerberus when said member has practically been delivered on a silver platter. I'll do my best to dissuade any killing of captives, but I won't put myself between those two if John really decides to go for the kill.
"So… let's say, just for a minute, that we don't punish him for the sins of his organization. What then?" He finally says. I shrug, not really knowing what would be realistic to expect here.
"I don't know… they saved our lives, so maybe we could end the debt by having them dropped off on some world inside council jurisdictions, and then the council could try and capture them on their own? I have no idea as how to handle this, but it feels wrong to deliver the people who saved my life to a life-time in a cell. Just saying." I haven't forgotten how Kaidan is still alive because Jacob was able to get Miranda on the phone. We would have lost our lieutenant if not for that fact.
"Hmm… I don't know… it'll be about one or two weeks before we return to the Citadel. I'll give it some thought, and if I decide to let them go, then… I don't know. We'll see to that time." He says. I realize that I probably can't persuade him to anything if he's already got his mind on something. I just hope he won't kill Jacob. That'd put one hell of a dent in project Lazarus, if that ever comes to.
"So… will that be all, sir?" I ask. I still have to get to the armory in the cargo-hold and make repairs on my armor. I'm pretty sure the thing took one hell of a beating.
"Yes. I think I would like some time alone with Mister Taylor. Don't worry; I won't hurt him, if that's what you're afraid of. Dismissed." I nod, turning to walk back to the elevator. Please John, don't do something as stupid as I'm probably going to someday.
…
SSV Normandy
Deck three - Crew quarters, gym and brig
10:02 (Ship time)
Watching the corporal walk away, John'Shepard mentally sighed, cursing the ancestors for all the messed up shit that crazy son of a bosh'ted had brought into his life. He is an odd one, indeed… he thought, watching as the corporal's form disappeared when the doors to the lift shut between them.
Thomas had, knowingly or not, caused the Quarian commander to somewhat reevaluate his own life, having learnt of the entire trans-universal issue, as well as the fact that no matter how good a friend and loyal a soldier Fisher and his buddy Tengberg were to him and each other, some part of them would always consider Jane, his newly acquired 'second-in-command' to be the real commander. And honestly, he always carried a small fear of what would happen if he asked them to choose sides. He would openly admit it: He had himself gained some respect for the red-head, seeing how she handled stressful situations as well as the way she had been able to hold her own on several occasions.
That being said, he had no intentions of resigning his post and letting her command his ship.
Shaking his head, he mentally shoved those thoughts from his mind. There was no need to worry about things that would never come to pass, seeing as they were all on the same side, and not competitors. Jane was, seemingly, content with her role as the ship's captain, having command when he was of-board, and handling logistics that would give him a headache. Also he constantly toyed with the idea of testing out just which one of them were the strongest biotic. Although to tell the truth, he held no illusions of losing to her if that ever came to pass. She might be strong, but he had never been bested before, and didn't intend to ever let that happen. The only issue he actually had with her, concerned the fragments of conversation he had overheard from the others.
Still, that had to wait to another time, seeing as he still had a 'guest' waiting for him. Turning from facing the elevator, Shepard walked to stand next to the cell door, gazing at the man inside, wondering just what thoughts went through the mind of a Cerberus operative like him.
"So… Mister Jacob Taylor. I believe a proper introduction is in order here, before we begin. I am, as you might have guessed, the commander of this ship. My name is John'Shepard vas Normandy nar Rayya, and you are my guest here for a while, just like I have been guest of your boss's in the past. We're going to talk a bit, you and I, and if you behave, and answer all my questions, allthewhile you don't provoke me, I think we can become good friends indeed, and then we can probably work something out concerning you and your team. Are we… clear?" John said, standing in front of the cell with his hands behind his back. The operative remained seated, but turned his head to look at the commander. He nodded;
"Excellent." John said, adopting a more casual attitude while dragging a chair in front of the cell; "Now, let's start with you, shall we? Name, rank and attitude towards Aliens?" John asked. Jacob looked a bit surprised at the way the questions were asked.
"Jacob Taylor. Lieutenant and… I'm not sure what to answer to the last question. Not a spiciest?" He said with a somewhat wavering stare.
"Hmm… well, I suppose that matches with what Fisher told me. Now, Jacob. Can I call you that?" He asked, for a moment startling the captive with his genuine voice. Judging from the way the dark-skinned man looked at him, John had successfully confused him. A fact he was rather happy with. In the end, he just received another nod.
"Good. Now, why don't you tell me just what your organization had going on Noveria, and why you were suddenly found in the crosshairs of my men? Know that I realize that your intervention saved a bunch of my people, so don't be afraid of being honest with me. I'll know if you're lying, and… I don't like it when people lie to me." He said the last part while gently brushing one of the knives hanging from his belt, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.
…
October 19th
Acturus Station
Maintenance hangar 12B
17:22 (Actual Acturus time)
"Alright, let me know when the next batch is ready." Anna Fisher said, dismissing the technician as he nodded and returned to the construction of the prototype star-ship in front of the pair. Looking after him, the Admiral couldn't help a small smirk form on her lips.
It had only been a little more than a week since she had been given the plans for the LA/AT-gunship, the one all the techs had been (almost) literally dying to start production of, seeing as the ship, even if it didn't prove to be as good as promised, still carried the prospect of showing new ways of running FTL-travel that wasn't based on Element zero. Not only that, but the materials used in production were actually easier to obtain than the standard titanium alloys normally used in fighters and bigger ships, as the materials were obtained, not by mining, but by harvesting. As odd as she had first thought it to be, the Admiral did know of the method of growing carbon-based molecular metals with this method. So far, the main issue with this had been that she had been banned from using said materials by several of the bigger contractors of the Alliance. It had 'upset the balance of economy and disturbed their benefactors in Citadel space' she had been told. It was only due to her ability to make due with screaming mentally that she had refrained from having said pencil-pusher thrown out the airlock of her dreadnaught. As far as she saw it, it wouldn't have been a major loss to the galaxy to rid it of one more bureaucrat.
Still, as she oversaw the long lines of skeleton-state gunships riding the assembly line, she remembered the headache her uncle had tossed her way only eleven days ago. At first when he had said a shit-storm was headed their way, she had assumed the council was going to complain due to her constructing a dreadnaught that pretty much dwarfed the Destiny Ascension. The reality and seriousness of the truth had made her wish the Council really had wanted to arrest her or whatever they would do to people overstepping the Treaty of Farixen like she was doing.
"Reapers" she muttered, mulling over the word.
It had a somewhat funny taste as she let it roll over her tongue. The term Reaper did, for humans, originate with one who collected his crops when they were due. It was then applied to the personification of Death, being called the 'Grim Reaper', and, as far as she knew, it was the only reason why Hackett had given the assumed doomsday-machines that name. Given the supposed purpose of these things, the name really was catchy. Not that the name being catchy made her job any easier.
"Defending the galaxy against immortal killer robots… why does it always have to be like some B-movie?" She asked herself, looking at the datapad Hackett had given her. It was a complete recording of the meeting between him, Donnel Udina, and the Citadel Council. She fast-forwarded it to one of her favorite points in the meeting.
"What exactly do you mean with 'galactic extinction'? What on Earth is big enough to snuff out life as we know it? A pulsar?" Hackett had asked, standing with a hand under his bearded chin. The recording had been done by a military advisor, so it was shoulder-viewed from some meters above the meeting, probably from a balcony. It was then that Sparatus, or Spartacus, as she preferred to refer to the turian by, started talking;
"No… we have been… informed, that a bigger threat than anything we have encountered so far is headed our way. The Reapers."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Admiral, I'm sure you remember the trial against Saren Arterius, the rouge Turian Spectre. If not, then go watch the damned recording of it. Shepard and Anderson said that Saren was trying to bring back the Reapers." The Turian said, clearly showing signs of inner turmoil. Anna couldn't help but be slightly amused, despite the graveness of the situation, over the bone-faced councilor's distress. He had, as far as she recalled, been one of the most adamant opponents to the very idea of sentient killer-ships waiting to harvest all life in the galaxy. And especially the idea of someone alive willing to help them do so. She couldn't help but wonder just what had changed their minds, or 'who' this person or group who had informed them might be. Now however, Udina, the pen-pusher, took the floor, so to speak;
"Councilor, are you serious? Reapers? If this is some kind of demented joke, then I am afraid I do not see the funny in it. Explain." Even from the camera, Anna could read the Turian's face as a sneer. Great, another one who didn't like Udina.
"The Council has received overwhelming evidence of the existence of these Reapers, or at least one of them. Saren's flagship, the one seen on Eden Prime? That thing, is a Reaper, and apparently the vanguard of the rest of its kind."
"See, this is why I ask myself what the hell I'm doing here… just why… let's say we do believe that these Reapers are going to show up on our doorstep. What do you intend to do about it?" Udina asked with a deep frown on his face. What came next, if not for the reason, would have caused most species militaries to jump in their seats with a glass of champagne, or their equivalent to it.
"First of… it is the decision of this council… to revoke the treaty of Farixen." Tevos said, replacing the Turian who didn't seem like he could find the right words. That very sentence didn't fail to send shivers down the admiral's spine, and this was the fourth time she had watched that particular scene. She stopped the recording as it zoomed in on the frozen, yet both horrified and exhilarated faces of the two humans in focus.
The revocation of the treaty was basically in her ears the same as yelling 'All hands to the shipyards!' though it might mean something a little different. But for her, it was a day she had longed for ever since noting how much bigger the Turian fleet was than the Alliance's. With regular intervals, she, as well as several other admirals and political leaders had pleaded for the treaty to at least be loosened a bit, and allow the Alliance to construct more dreadnaughts. Now? Now it was removed completely, and she hadn't wasted a second before setting a large-scale plan in motion. A plan that concerned the construction of, not one, not five nor ten, but fifteen new dreadnaughts, whereof the ten would be of the new Gorgon-design. Officially, the new ship was just a dreadnaught meant for the role of a prototype. But unofficially, it was her plan to allow an old friend to take over the Hong Kong, and assume command of the new ship herself. Problem just was, some people would see that as her lining her own pockets. Or ships, in this case. True, she did feel like taking a high-powered, multi-million ton, prototype warship for herself, but she had been the one emptying her own pockets, and staying up more than one night, in order to get the things done her way. A series of heavy footsteps from behind her caught her attention and caused her to turn to face the newcomer.
"When was the last time you slept?" She asked the old man, actually having recognized his way of waking before she saw him.
"I think… I know I've been up for more than twenty-four hours, but beyond that… I think I took a quick nap sometime the day before yesterday. You?" She asked, noticing how her uncle had grey and purple bags under his eyes.
"Pretty much the same here, although I try to get some sleep. You seem hell-bent on avoiding it altogether."
"Yeah well, we do have an impending invasion from giant robo-squids coming our way. I'll sleep when I've jacked a fission-bomb up their collective butt-holes, and kicked them all back to whatever dark and stinky hole they are about to crawl out of." She replied with a smirk, watching as a mix of robotics and technicians were busy flash-growing the plating for her new ship.
"You always seem to find the right words, don't you?" The old man said with a small chuckle, silently admiring his niece's ability to stay somewhat optimistic even during times like these.
"Yeah well, it's a gif I have. Aaand, it sure as hell helps on the mood that my new ship can, theoretically, give the Ascension a fisting." She said with an impish smirk. Hackett couldn't help but put a hand to his forehead. He would never be rid of her cursing, would he?
"Dear Gods, girl… why do you have to use that sort of language?"
"Mmm, you don't approve?" She asked with a pout. Hackett sighed. One of these days, he would have to have her re-re-re-examined by a psychologist. The charlatans he had been at the previous times as all cleared his niece for duty. Nevertheless, he remained convinced that something was very wrong with her. An old lady, an admiral even, who sweared, cursed and overall behaved like she was a teenager, was not normal. Nor was it encouraged among the admiralties of the Alliance. Still, he supposed there had to be a reason why she was the most publically know admiral, next after him of course, and why the magazines loved writing about her, and the crowd loved reading about her. He mentally groaned as he went over the different headlines in his head. "Alliance Admiral found possessing collection of self-acquired pirate-genitals" or what about "Admiral Anna Fisher of the Alliance molests Krogan prisoner of war. Claims the former slaver 'had it coming'" He sighed, realizing that those exact scandals were probably the very reason why the public loved her, and why there was a price on her head in the Terminus.
"I swear, one of these days I'm going to have a little chat with your mother young lady, about your behavior." He replied with a voice that started out stern and hard, but ended in a smile.
"Oh no, I'll get grounded for sure. Please uncle, don't do it." She replied with a fake-frightened face; "Pff, as if. If I didn't get grounded for adding that Balak-fella's balls to my collection, how do you plan on taking me down?" She said. That was one point in her military career she had always trumped him on. She had been younger back then, but she had responded where the rest of the Alliance could not, inserted herself and a small team of N7-soldiers on the asteroid bound for Terra Nova, raided the station there and captured the Batarian leader. What she did to him after that was a public secret. It certainly wasn't because she had a camera in the room where he had been strapped to a metal-table, retrained with primitive chains. And it certainly wasn't because she had castrated the animal with a knife, and not on what was live system-wide TV.
"True… though it didn't really help on our relations with the Hegemony. Pirate or not, he was a Batarian, and I suspect that they were a little upset over seeing you cut him open on screen." He said, remembering the outrage she had caused on the Citadel. That was back when the Batarians still had an embassy there.
"Bullshit. You know as well as I do that the Hegemony is financing those fuckers. Besides, with this kind of firepower, they'll think twice before pissing me off again." She muttered, pressing on the fact they both knew to be true. Theoretically, the Batarians had long since crossed the line to declare war on humanity, but evidence always seemed to 'disappear' about who was behind the attacks. And as such the Alliance couldn't take action.
"That may be, but for now we have more pressing issues than your lust for molesting and torture."
"Oh well, you can't really blame me for treating them 'in-humane', can you?" She asked with her arms crossed over her chest and a vicious smirk on her lips. Hackett couldn't do anything but sigh. For some reason, the conversations with his niece made him sigh and groan more than anything else in his daily routine.
"Anyway, what is the status on these new gunships your… brother, gave you?" He asked with a headache mounting from that word alone. Brother… what God decided to make my niece the most scientifically messed up person in the galaxy? He groaned as he looked at the assembly-line spitting out the heavy-duty transports, as well as some that looked like they were meant to hold some sort of cargo under their belly.
"I was wondering when you'd come to that." She said with a proud smile; "The LA/AT gunships, or the 'Flying Fists' as I've dubbed them, are ready to be sent into active duty as soon as we have instructed the pilots in how to use them." She really did have a reason to be proud. In less than a week, she had not only been granted clearance to start the construction of these machines of war, she had also not wasted a minute before having the factories and shipyards begin pumping them out.
"How many?"
"Would it give you a stroke to know that I have more than one hundred ready to fly?" She asked with coy smile. Seemingly, the question hadn't been all that ungrounded, as the older admiral staggered back a few steps, a look of shock plastered on his face.
"That many? How the heck did you accomplice that?"
"I…. might have asked some people outside the council for their help. In return for some… let's say 'later services', they have sent some advisors in utilizing materials to the max, as well as methods for circumventing different issues with engines and shielding." She said, assuming her uncle could guess the rest from there.
"Outside the Council… as in not having an embassy, or just like us?"
"As in not having an embassy." She just replied as a matter of factly.
"It wouldn't by any chance be the same sort of deal the council has made with the Quarians, that in exchange for aid against the geth, the Quarians would send advisors and other… technicians to assist with constructing ships of the very same design you are currently building?" Hackett asked with a small smile. It seemed to him that his niece had finally slipped, and as much of a catastrophe as it could be right now, he reveled in it. It was always the other way around for those two. And as he expected, the face of his niece just grew a little bit paler.
"Wh-what? Xen that cheeky bitch! She traded her advisors and techs in return for help from the Alliance in retaking Rannoch when their end of the bargain was done. And why the fuck wasn't I informed of this little cooperation? Do you have any dea of how much cash I've spent on this project? I… Damn it all…" She muttered before uttering a few curses the Admiral was thankful he couldn't hear.
"Now, I do have some sort of 'good news' for you, if you can call it that. For some reason, the council doesn't seem to have received plans for the Eezo-free ship-engines, the gunships or the proton-torpedoes, meaning you'll still have the lead there… but I'm assuming you are going to share the tech, right?" He asked, seeing how her face regained its color as well as the confident smile;
"Oh, I'll share them alright… I'll even give the other races a live demonstration when I'm steering this…" She said, pointing at the two kilometer long vessel being constructed behind her; "… right past the Citadel in formation with hundreds of the gunships." She had certainly had her confidence back, but Hackett did grow a little wary of the way her eyes glistered when talking about human supremacy. Apparently, she read his mind;
"Oh relax, I'm not about to forge the 'Imperium of Man', if that's what you're afraid of. Now, seeing as there are lots of the gunships ready and waiting, how about a tour above my new flagship?" She said, pointing to one of the gunships currently being transported towards the hangars. Hackett scratched his beard;
"I didn't think any of our pilots had been shown how to operate these things yet?" He was somewhat unnerved by the way Anna looked at him, and the smile she grew;
"Who said anything about a pilot?" She said, heading for the hangars. Hackett suddenly saw it fit to make sure he had his cellphone ready to contact an ambulance, just in case;
"Wait, you're not seriously considering-" He started. As he followed her to the ships lined up in the adjacent hangar.
"Why the heck not? Besides, I need to do something else than simply sit behind a desk or walk the halls of a factory." She responded as she almost shoved him up the ladder to the cockpit. Unknown to her, Hackett was secretly praying to not only his fathers' God, but to every single type of deity of there, that his niece actually knew what she was doing, as he had no idea himself as to how to fly the ship. His fear only grew as he had to follow her example and strap in, allthewhile techs nearby were busy removing fuel tubes, magnetic clamps and obstructions. As unusual as it was, when an admiral wanted to take one of her birds for a spin, the regular tech or marine rarely dared oppose him or her. Especially when the admirals in question were Admirals Fisher and Hackett.
As he finished praying, the old admiral could only look in horror as the glass closed down, sealing both of them inside the relatively small cockpit. Sitting in a fighter wasn't something that bothered the admiral. Especially since that was how his career had started out. What bothered him though-
"Hold on tight, this might get rough!" Anna screamed in what almost sounded like childish joy and excitement.
-was the fact that it was his niece flying the fighter.
"God help me…"
And now at least one of you will be wondering why I didn't mention nuking Noveria? Thomas had no saying on that one, and it was done while he slept, face-desk and all, so... yeah. Blame that one on writer's block I was having earlier this week :(
Remember: Report incoherency and otherwise. The quicker the better. Still, don't just review with my mess-ups, but tell me what you- nah, I think you guys already know what I'm asking, don't you?
Remember: My story, no matter how far it progresses, is in your hands, so...
...thank you, Good Night, and Good Luck!