The Interior of the Poltergeist was a buzzing hub of activity, stuffed to the brim with busy dock workers and engineers that were conducting last-minute repairs and upgrades, zealously trying to get the ship back in fighting shape. Crates with munitions, rations, power circuits and other gear were being pushed here and there, secured and stashed while the ship was being readied to depart.
"Come on, I'll show you your quarters." Kajira beckoned as she strolled to the elevator. Dvorak followed her, avoiding the workers that didn't seem to see him. The constant chatter and clatter of work was replaced by a deep, mechanical hum as the doors of the elevator slid shut.
"So, Dvorak," she began to say after a moment. "What's your story? How did you end up on the Poltergeist?"
He had concocted a story about himself that he could tell the other Team members, should they ask. It wasn't a lie, it just left out the short but quite important part of His past when he had been part of a human-centric organization, widely known as Cerberus.
It wasn't a good conversation starter to mention your former affiliation with a group that, at its very best, was seen as a bunch of xenophobic racists. Although he joined them when they were simply trying to defend human interests in the galaxy and had cut ties with them when they started to go from human-centric to actively anti-alien, such bagatelles seemed to be ignored once the truth was out.
"Pretty generic, I'm afraid. Sorry." he replied. "I grew up on a Mining Station in the middle of nowhere on the Edge of the Terminus and enlisted with the Marines as soon as I was able, just to get away. Since I was a Biotic, I was put in a 'safe environment'." He signed the quotation marks with his fingers. "Jargon for basically stuffing you in a lab for weeks on end while probing your brain, I guess."
Now came the tricky part. In reality, after he had completed basic and biotic training, he had served with the marines for a while but got fed up with the unwillingness of the Alliance to pursue human interests more aggressively. It was then when he heard about an Organization that did exactly that: Cerberus.
"And that's about it. I've been given the opportunity to participate in these so-called 'N7-Ops', so how could I say no?"
He put on his most convincing grin and hoped she'd buy it. Kajira just chuckled and replied: "Oh, you're one of those?"
Those meant, in this case, Biotics in general. Dvorak had forgotten they were still viewed with mixed feelings by the Turian People. Kajira quickly realized her faux pas and added: "Not that that's a bad thing! I'm not prejudiced! I know you Guys can be handy in a pinch - we even got some in our team, so you should get along just fine!"
He was relieved that the focus of the conversation had shifted away from his past to his abilities. On those, he actually was proud. "It's okay. No need to apologize." he smiled.
The Lift came to a stop, and the doors slid open, revealing an empty corridor that led to an equally empty mess hall, flanked by two doors that appeared to lead to the quarters. "The Men's Quarters is to the left, so you best go there. I need to go see the Commander. You best do the same after you settled in. She's probably in the Hangar. Catch you later?"
"Sure! See you later."
And with that, she was back in the lift. As the doors closed shut, Dvorak turned around to see himself alone in this section of the ship. Only his breathing and a strange humming sound, that seemed to originate from the Men's Quarters. Curios, he shouldered his bag and headed off into the direction of the hum.
As he stepped through the door to the Quarters, he was greeted by something he would later describe to Kajira as the Strangest Scene he ever walked into: Between bunk beds, a couch and something that seemed to resemble a fort made of pillows lay a Krogan, Claymore Shotgun in hand. From him the mysterious hum originated, which Dvorak now identified as a snore. A party hat featuring a duck crowned his plated head, similar to the smaller party hat featuring a cow that decorated his shotgun.
"Don't mind him - he's just sleeping off his drunk." a voice behind Dvorak sounded, as he approached the Krogan. When he turned around, a young man with short, fiery red hair and freckles stand grinning in the doorframe, leaning against it. As if in acknowledgement, the Krogan snored loudly and turned into a more comfortable position. "Hey, I'm Peter Freeway. You're new here, aren't you?" the redhead introduced himself while offering his hand. Dvorak shook it. "Yeah, I'm the new Guy. Dvorak Helfer. I've been transferred onto the Poltergeist for these newly-formed N7-Ops?"
"I could tell. Not many dock workers wander into the quarters with their luggage." Peter replied, indicating Dvorak's Bag. "So anyway, this will be your new home, I take it? You already know my name, and the Bag of Sunshine passed out back there is Nakmor Gash." He turned to Dvorak, shielding his next sentences with his hand. "He looks tougher than he is. In secret, he just wants to cuddle and hold hands."
"Fuck you." sounded the grumbling reply from the Krogan.
"If I recall correctly, these were the exact same words you used when we were out drinking last night?" Peter taunted.
This time, only a tortured moan escaped the Krogan as he turned again into a more comfortable position. "Anyway, the rest of the crew is probably around here somewhere, too. First, you should check in with the Boss. She's in the hangar, the last time I heard."
"Yeah, I'll do that right away." He wanted to go, but hesitated as the bag around his shoulder came to mind. "Hey, is that bed occupied?" he said, pointing to the one to his left. "Nope, it's yours if you want it. I hope you don't snore."