Chapter One - Dormant
Somewhere in the Nimbus Cluster, three weeks after the buoy exploded
Like a whale in the ocean, the giant ship gently drifted in space seemingly without purpose. Its sizes could make moons feel insignificant. Two enormous triangular wings stretched from the tube-like hull in the back, the smooth metallic surfaces covered the vessel's secrets like curtains of a stage.
The lone drifter got some company when a ship dropped out to FTL not too far away, nothing more than a piece of dust compared to the giant. The inscription on the Y-shaped body read SSV Columbus with the blue logos of the Systems Alliance and the Citadel Council painted beside. Aboard, curious explorers travelled to the space-whale, people who sought to unveil its well-hidden mysteries.
Commander Neil Collins, an N7-trained Alliance soldier watched their mission target from the Columbus' observation window on the bridge. His eyes, grey like stormy clouds, scanned the goliath ship with amazement, like a child seeing and comprehending the world for the first time.
This is a bad idea, he kept repeating in his mind ever since they departed. Yet, he would be the first human aboard and try making first contact with a new alien species. The thought of the burdening responsibility on his shoulders terrified him like the dark when he was only as tall as a coffee table.
Slowly, he stroked his hair, which even as short as it happened to be, curled like currents in the ocean. He had seen enough combat in the past years, but this mission had an entirely different purpose, something his training couldn't prepare him for. And that ate itself into his stomach, as if a parasite moved upside down inside his body.
"Status report!" the captain's voice echoed on the bridge, snapping Neil out of what felt like sinking underwater. Around the curved observation window sat all the specialists and the two pilots in their uniforms, blue as the sky on Earth. The crew around started to throw words at Captain Dave Clark. He sat in the middle on an elevated chair, which still needed some breaking in, as he told the crew not long before launch.
Neil listened to all the reports, except none seemed to be able to show up anything significant. And they called themselves the experts, he thought. No activity, radiation or anything. The ship stayed dormant ever since it appeared out of nowhere and destroyed the comm buoy. What the hell is this thing? Neil wondered, and it seemed nobody could predict what would happen if they woke up this sleeping beauty, not even all the nerds aboard.
Grissom had no idea what he was up to either, he reminded himself and that thought gave him some comfort.
"Sir, I have my doubts about the mission," Neil said, turning to face his captain. They met long ago during Earth's Reaper invasion, yet this Dave Clark seemed to be a completely different person than the one that pulled his teenager ass out of the ruins of Vancouver. Neil remembered to saw him as a perfect example for a strong soldier, a big-framed, muscular Marine, someone he could look up to. The Captain's native North American ancestry gave him a skin tanned as bronze, and a smile always painted on his face like a Cheshire cat, cheering the mood up.
Now, however, the captain looked tired of all the fights he endured, the wrinkles carved his cheeks like fjords had eroded their beds between mountains, his narrow eyes sunken deep, with a faint light glimmering in both like the farthest of stars. The color from his skin paled as if the bronze paint simply had been worn away over time.
"Commander, we're already here. We cannot turn back. The Council needs us to do this."
Who the fuck cares about the Council? Neil asked in his mind, though he just nodded without another word. As he saw it, politicians drifted the galaxy into turmoil again with their stupid games. And yet they were still allowed to keep playing them, their toys being us, the people. Swallowing all that seemed to be the hardest thing as a soldier.
"Alright everyone, stand by until we report to Alliance Command," the captain said. He rose from his chair, waving at the commander to follow him.
Before Neil could move an inch, the entrance of the bridge hissed open. Dr. Michael Conroy walked in, his long steps quickly taking him to the window. The crew silenced in seconds, stopping mid-motion as they wanted to hear what the genius of the ship had to say.
Neil met him briefly on the docks shortly, yet enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Looks like smart-ass caught the scent, Neil's lips pulled to a small grin. Conroy was supposed to be their top genius, but so far seemed nothing more than someone who thought knew everything better than others. Smart-ass seemed an appropriate nickname for the guy in Neil's mind.
He followed Conroy's large steps with his eyes as the scientist made his way onto the CIC, and wondered if the man's gaunt frame and features were the results of a disease. That would explain why he decided to come along, despite the risk this mission could be suicide itself.
"Nice to see you up, Conroy," the captain greeted him, though it seemed the doc pretended he didn't hear the words. Instead, Conroy went ahead, picked up a datapad, and started browsing the measurements.
"Curious… most curious," the scientist whispered, his English origins well audible for those around.
Each soul in the CIC waited impatiently, maybe Conroy had some explanation to make sense of the results, but all he could do was hemming. Neil slowly shook his head in disbelief. The man probably detached himself from reality long ago.
Apparently, Neil wasn't the only one who got tired of Conroy, the captain headed out. Neil followed closely in his footsteps, glancing back over his shoulder one last time before disappearing from the bridge.
The comm room was situated right behind the CIC, with a table round as a disk and chairs all around it. In the middle of the circle, a holo projector pulsed slowly with light as blue as the Alliance's uniforms. The Captain sat down, while Neil took a seat on his right and activated the built-in touchscreen.
"Sir, the QEC is ready to broadcast," a female technician's voice echoed in the chamber. The acoustics of the room made Neil hear her voice as if she sat right beside him, which ran a sudden shiver up on his spine.
"Initiate transmission," the Captain said.
The pulsing now became a permanent shining blue light, with the projector slowly rendering a figure, building small pixels on top of each other like masons put bricks together to build up a home. In the end, the pixels formed a familiar face, Admiral Steven Hawley.
"Columbus, what a pleasant surprise. We've been waiting for your report for quite some time," he greeted the officers with a nod.
"Sorry sir, we've just dropped out of FTL couldn't come to you sooner," the Captain replied. Neil knew he would be nothing more than a sitting statue during the report. He didn't mind too much. Let the big heads do the talking, he craved more for some action. Just not on that thing.
"So far we don't have much; the scans came back without results, the ship is as dead as it gets," the Captain continued, while Hawley crossed his arms and raised a brow.
"Really? How's so?"
"The specialists say it could be shielded too well for our scanners. Not that it's hard not to spot, considering the sizes."
"You're right, that's not too much. We need answers and results, Captain. Preferably sooner than later."
"Understood, sir."
"There's one more thing that I don't want to sugar-coat, so I'm going to be blunt. The mission has been leaked to the public. We don't know by who, but we are trying to find the source. However, I believe you should expect some company from the Federation soon enough."
Neil and Captain Clark exchanged a nervous glance. How the hell could the Alliance allow that to happen? Neil wondered. In an instant, this mission became much more complicated. They now had to expect some sort of competition down the road. The commander had already felt the gravity of the first contact beating down his shoulders like a thousand tons, yet some S.O.B. managed to make it even worse, tripping him as he tried to balance that weight. He feared he might get crushed under such burden. A frustrated sigh later, he wiped his eyes.
"Any other 'good' news?" he asked in the end, breaking his own promise not to say a word on this meeting.
"We'll keep you posted. Hawley out."
And just like that, the holographic image disappeared into thin air. Neil dropped his fist on the table.
"Easy there, Commander. We are weeks ahead of the Federation," the Captain said, probably to calm his XO. "We can't really do anything from here about it. So suck it up."
"Yes, sir. But I have to be honest. The Federation wouldn't even exist if the Council wasn't idiotic enough to let those races ally with each other. And I wouldn't have to deal with krogans, drell, raloi, batarians or any of their other freak friends on top of that ship itself. I've told you already, Tank. I smell bullshit, and a pile bigger than Terra Nova was."
The commander stood up and stormed out of the room, fleeing away from any possible reactions. To say he felt pissed, it would have been an understatement. As a soldier, he'd learned to obey the direct orders. Except, sometimes it just felt as if every leader had their eyes and ears shut, not listening to reason. They only saw themselves swimming in a pool of power and money, whilst people like Neil risked their lives to give them that comfort. He decided to take a walk. He would have prefered to channel his frustration into some greedy politicians face, but all he could have done was to punch in the wall.
Eventually, he stopped in front of the elevator and took a deep breath to cleanse his mind. His comm activated with a crack, as if the device knew he felt better.
"Commander Collins, get your team ready. We are docking with the ship in fifteen minutes," Captain Clark echoed up from his radio. He had his orders, yet for several seconds he didn't move a muscle.
The sound of the elevator snapped him back to reality. As the door hissed open, he saw Conroy already inside.
"Airlock, I presume?" he asked with a smile, similar to that a well-fed toddler would show, yet forced like a knock-knock joke. Neil nodded and stepped into the machine. They felt a gentle pull when it began to move. An awkward silence fell on them, both men staring at the display that showed the number of level they were passing. Neil cleared his throat and inhaled to say something, but the lift stopped before any words could leave his lips.
"Time to go," Conroy said before leaving the elevator.
The rest of the team was already waiting, yet when Neil saw them, he felt a weird urge in his legs to run away from them. You already let one family down, don't screw this up too, he told himself.
Their squad had three more members.
One of them was the former asari commando, Faera T'lano, covered in her own hyphen painted black suit. True to her profession, her body seemed like the perfect killing machine with a pinch of lightness in her confident movements. The dark blue skin on her face looked like the million-year-old icebergs, frozen and full of wisdom. Two thin red lines from the bottom of her eyes ran down on her cheek, as if she was crying blood. Every asari looked perfect, yet Neil wouldn't dare to ask this particular specimen out for a date.
Leaning against the wall with an arsenal of weapons attached to various parts of his armor was a turian, called Thetus Nectus. The carapace on his face was covered with a yellow tattoo. Although Neil knew about these facepaints' purpose, he couldn't recognize the symbol, not to mention the color. The turian towered above his comrades, almost hitting the ceiling with his sweeping crest. He held his M-9 assault rifle in one of his three-fingered hands, his bird-like green eyes scanning the room.
In front of them, the other human member, Nick Donahue tried to put on his helmet. A good foot shorter than Thetus and hair so dark it seemed to absorb the light around him. With his young, boy-like features, he seemed to had stucked at his late teenage years. His stocky build, however, suggested he had some raw strength like a brute krogan.
And he can move things with his brain, like Ms. Blueberry there, Neil thought seeing Nick and the asari.
Neil motioned toward his own locker and started to prepare. Seeing the N7 logo on the chestplate gave him some confidence into the mixture of feelings that swirled inside him like a vortex. As he finished loading his assault rifle with thermal clips, he took out one additional weapon. He stared at the pistol for a moment.
"Hey, Conroy. Here, take this. I hope you know how to use it," he held out the gun. The scientist seemed surprised for a split-second, then took the firearm with a shrug.
"I actually had some training," Conroy said. Still, Neil suspected he had no more expertise in this field other than how to pull the trigger. Maybe he could aim well too, he hoped.
"So, you're Einstein combined with Rambo?" Donahue asked, his voice distorted by his helmet.
Neil caught Conroy's grin to the kid's words. It looked smug, as if he wanted to show Donahue what he really meant. Neil had a hunch the scientist could be dangerous. He quickly checked his rifle to make sure everything worked as it should on the M-9.
"Instead of insulting someone out of your league in terms of IQ, you should focus on your job, boy," Faera said with a forced smile sent towards Donahue. Neil saw the two staring at each other for seconds. Not too hard to decide that he should keep an eye on both of them, like two cantankerous children. He had to admit the only person in this team who seemed to get along perfect was the tight-lipped Thetus.
"Attention. Docking procedure initiated," a female voice announced on the speakers. Neil's heart rate began to rise. He wished he could see what was happening outside and not just be a doll inside a metal box.
When they made contact, the collision shook the airlock and all its occupiers, tossing the squad into the wall with a bone-breaking force. Neil let out a silent "Son of a– ," as Conroy's body crashed down on top of him, rushing the air out of his lungs.
"Shit, what the hell happened with gentle docking, guys?!" he cried out, stripping Conroy off himself. He scanned the others with the omni-tool, then let himself exhale when all of them started to move and the scan showed no injuries. Except their big pride, he added in thought.
The docking procedure didn't stop for them to collect themselves though. The VI was already equalizing the pressure and they all had to put on their helmets last-minute.
"Get into position," Neil gave the order and went ahead to face the airlock's blast door. Behind him, Thetus and Faera stepped beside both arms of Conroy, while Nick covered their back.
Neil felt his mouth dry out as if he just took a tour in a hot desert. His heart pumped the blood faster and stronger, his veins feeling like they wanted to explode on the inside from the pressure. He raised his M-9 rifle to point at the door, hoping he wouldn't have to use it on the other side. The adrenaline rush made the world look like a slow-motion video and the wait just made everything worse.
He heard the locks clicking, as if someone opened a dozen bottles of champagne simultaneously.
Am I ready? he asked himself.
The hydraulics opened the door and a thick darkness greeted the explorers, black as the worst nightmares. It seemed to have no ending or beginning, vast like space itself.
You only need a candle to destroy darkness, Neil remembered his mother's words from long ago and switched on the flashlight.
A/N: Thanks for Lachdannen for reviewing the drafts!