Using crutches for the first time revealed that the entire experience had a steep learning curve. Val stuck to my side, a hovering hand ready to catch me if my actions with the crutches caused me to fall. He glowered at the back of the salarian's head. Mat'al cooled himself, returning to his old composure. What the hell Mat'al had planned? Whatever it was drove him into a quick walk, breathing agitated breaths when he paused me to limp after him. A glare froze on my face, but continued to stumble after him. My breath muttered about impatient salarians as we approached an elevator. Mat'al held the door, waiting for us to pile inside. He tapped the floor number. My back leaned against the wall.
"Where are we going, Mat'al? What is this Starquake?" I asked. "A gun that causes suns to explode?" Mat'al chuckled.
"Already have one of those, though we prefer to call it the Nova Railgun," he answered with a smile. My eyes widened. Val scowled as he glanced down.
"He's joking," he said. My shoulders sagged, rocking on my heels. "I hope," he added. My back tightened. Mat'al chuckled, smirking as he turned to look at the number above our heads. The door dinged.
"You may be disappointed, it won't be what you expect. It will be our most vital piece of equipment, however we will need help to man it," Mat'al informed.
The doors parted, letting me hop out with Val attentive on my heels. A glance around the single floored lab peaked my curiosity. Computers stuck out of the floor in neat rows, heavier machines clung the edges of this pale room. It looked like some sort of control room. Orange holograms painted the walls, radio chatter hummed in the background. At the far side of the room, floor-to-ceiling windows overlay a darkened room beyond. Whatever lay in that room sat in darkness. It must be a huge room for the lit control room to not show any details beyond.
"Is a weapon?" I asked as some salarians crossed my path, datapads in hand. The earned a scowl as they broke my rhythm, Val stabilising my hobble.
"I suppose it could, if used improperly. But then again, anything could be a weapon," Mat'al responded. My scowl deepened at the salarian as he brought me to the window. My hands grabbed hold of the rail between me and glass. Mat'al stood silent, staring into the darkness before him with brooding eyes.
"We cannot help you here, Dell," he said. "You need to specialisation of the STG to develop equipment that can study the tech hidden in your body. However, I fear that whatever sent you down on that turian colony will strike you again here. I've received news from my sources on the Citadel... well, it isn't a pretty thought,"
"What news?" I asked, Val hovered behind me, eyes narrowed.
"You said you met another Saboteur, as you call them. Was her name Saria T'Spia?" he asked. My eyes widened. I haven't said that name to anyone, not yet anyway! "Thought so. My source said she has been out of character for some weeks and has powered up the ranks within C-Sec at rates that do not seem to fit with the promotion usual trends. I tried to test the waters and gain eyes on the inside, however it seems someone beat me to it," he turned to me. "They parted this information after I dropped your name, mentioning I was trying to locate and help you. A turian in C-Sec with a sour attitude-"
"That would be Commander Satrino Wilcerous," I said. My brain got a pat for remembering as many names as it had. Mat'al narrowed his eyes as he studied me. "I helped him out during the Geth attack,"
"Ah, I see. Glad to see you have connections," Mat'al returned to face the dark. His expression slipped. "Endellion, all of your records have vanished,"
"Pardon?" I gaped.
"Everything has disappeared. All of your personal records, all your Alliance records and your name is no longer on the Normandy crew list. Wheel forgive, Dell, the prison ship what carried you has no paperwork now. Not even a commission notice. The escape pod you landed on Digeris with? Records say it belonged to a cargo ship, struck by pirates above the planet at the moment the SSV Montreal vanished. Even the members of the crew were confirmed to have died on a ship called the SSV São Paulo after a malfunctioning air regulator pointed the crew in the Hourglass Nebula system," Mat'al stared at me. "Your contact also informed me that the police members present at the time of your arrest cannot remember ever seeing your face. Everyone on the Citadel who had seen you cannot remember you, some found dead. Even the STG has no records and I saw to the inquiry for granting you asylum with us. All reports of you have vanished, a father and his young son found murdered by batarians and everyone adamant about your existence seem to... disappear or forget. Any ideas why?" he asked. Oh I knew. Tension danced along my shoulders, bunching them together.
"Saboteurs... within C-Sec, within the Alliance, within the batarians, within the Council... Saboteurs everywhere..." I spat the words out, tongue turning to stone.
"Which is the exact conclusion I arrived at. Dell, there is the real possibility that there is Saboteurs in the STG, or their indoctrinated slaves as you seemed to mention with C-Sec. I cannot keep you here and guarantee you or anyone else's safety. Thus, I present to you," the lights in the darkened room flickered to life. "The Starquake,"
The sight before me held me captive, at the realisation of Mat'al's plan. Or at least some of it. What lay before me, gleaming in the light, was a spaceship. Twice as big as the Normandy, it looked too abnormal compared to the sleek looking monstrosities that littered space. The pale ship had the rough shape of a normal ship; narrow nose, wide, round back and reminded me of a bullet. The only thing that destroyed that was the four layers of plates jutting out of on all sides like a porcupine or spoilers on a plane's wing. They dipped and peaked, fanning out like a concave shuttle cock. The first armadillo-like plate had two horns like a salarian, a gap between in the middle of the ship, but the plate behind was the opposite, a single spine running up the middle. The following plates followed that order. Each spike – or fan if viewed from the sides – followed by a dip beside it.
What made little sense, however, was the engines. Every ship thus far had wings on the side with engines mounted to them. The Starquake only had petite stabilisers angled on the roof and horizontal on the sides at the rear. 6 engines mounted on what looked like a shoddy London Eye, even now the engines rotated around the ship like a Ferris wheel. The black ring that encircled on the body of the ship, ¾ down the body, spun the beams attached to the engines. My ogled stare turned to Mat'al.
"How... is this aerodynamic?" I asked. Mat'al scowled.
"It's a spaceship, darling. There's no air resistance in space," the salarian tutted. "The irregular skin on the fans deflects detection signals, the irregular plate boundaries also help in this endeavour by concentrating and bouncing back confusing signals. The paint is a specialised compound, absorbs, reflects and scatters most types of rays. We also... borrowed some of the FTL masking abilities the Normandy had. We are still perfecting it with this system, however,"
"So it's a space-only ship then," I said, turning to the massive husk.
"Oh no, of course not," he chuckled. "The Starquake is a large frigate at 325m, just over twice the size of the Normandy. She doesn't have the manoeuvrability of most frigates, well, traditional manoeuvrability but she packs the punch of a small cruiser,"
"So… how does this ship fly on a planet without wings?" I asked, wondering what stopped this thing falling to the ground. It had no lift! Mat'al grinned. He reached over to a control panel. The engines stopped spinning. Then the wheel split. The engines migrated together until three engines met on either side. The beams that made up the wheel soon met, and new parts telescoped out from the massive metal rods. My jaw dropped as the transformation continued. The beams extended, shaped, the engines moved along them like conveyor belts until they were three engines on two wings. The extruding plates that made the shell flattened, sliding together.
"Easily, as you can imagine," he answered. He turned to the Starquake. "She's a working prototype. The STG are losing interest in her,"
"How so?" Val asked. Mat'al sagged his shoulders, rubbed his eyes.
"She is proving to be difficult to fly. Very temperamental due to the engine orientation. The engineers are concerned about the safety features for the engines not holding up. We can lose 4 engines and still fly but flying FTL is impossible without at least four, and even then she struggles so five is the recommended. And then there is the actual design of her itself. As we tried an overhauled engine system to allow the engine rotation to drive the artificial gravity and save power, they played with room arrangement. The CIC is not secure if we are boarded as it's in the middle rather than the top of the ship with walkways all around it. You have stairs to the Wheel-forsaken cockpit for fuck sake!" Mat'al shook his head.
"The Normandy wasn't perfect; two hatches right between the cockpit and CIC," I said.
"Yes but the Normandy had speed and agility to keep her out of reach. The Starquake has no such luxuries," Mat'al said
"Then gear her up with powerful guns, armour and shields," Val scowled. Mat'al gave him a flat stare.
"To keep the balance with a rotating engine block, you have to watch the weight balance. Sure, the engines can rotate independently to correct any directional flaws but they are not beneficial for large miscalculations in the centre of gravity," he sighed. Val growled.
"You worry about this 'precious balance', I can find you a damned good pilot," Val grumbled. My eyes fixated on the Starquake, eyebrows upturning. To be created and discarded… the ship was that bad? There must be worse out there. My gaze shifted to Mat'al
"You said we needed help to man it?" I asked.
"Indeed. I can get a few friends, from the STG and asari, however the numbers are slim for such a... outlandish idea," he admitted. "So I will need to find other people to help. We need at minimum 30, recommended 50 people," My shoulders straightened, clucking my tongue. Would my contacts want to help me though...?
"Val, grab this pilot of yours and whatever friends you can muster. Mat'al, have a word with Anthon Cerr and drop my name, ask him to gather anyone who wants to try something different," I said. Mat'al frowned, analysing me as my gaze turned to the Starquake. "I need to make a few calls, is there a phone I can use?" Mat'al shared a look with Val, who had furrowed his plates. He moved away from the window, leading me to a small room with a large screen on one wall. He set up the computer before me.
"Just throw the numbers in and off you go," he answered, but his studious eyes still danced over my expression. A smile lifted my lips as my body slumped on a chair, off my thigh.
"Thanks, I'll call when I'm done," I said. The salarian nodded, leaving the room. Not trusting Mat'al, my fingers tapped out the seconds as they passed to be sure he wasn't waiting like a stalker. My fingers tapped out first number off my list. As nerves took hold, my hands folded together as the call connected. My smile widened when Shayan's face appeared. He perked, his eyes glowing.
"Captai- I mean, Dell, hi!" he flushed. A weak scowl lined my expression.
"Uh huh, you remember where you are," I scolded. He smile through the blush "Hey, I have a... proposition for you,"
My scowl intensified at the door Dell had gone through earlier. It had been at least 4 hours since she first entered that room and she still hadn't come out. Oh her laughter roared out the cracks but that was the only sign of life in that room. My gaze shifted to the salarian as he reappeared in the control centre, stroking his chin as he stared at the floor. He joined me in leaning on the handrail that separated us from the glass and the Starquake. The ship looked like a horrible beast, but Dell seemed quite taken by it judging by her gawking.
"What are you planning?" I asked Mat'al. The salarian glimpsed up at me for a time, before turning his gaze to the room. He smiled.
"I thought I knew, but I may have to alter the plan," he said as he folded his arms. "She has... grown since I last saw her," A sound rumbled in my throat. "I wonder who she is calling..."
"You don't have cameras in there?" I raised a brow plate. Mat'al scoffed.
"I do, but she has that blasted drone I gave her out, disrupting them. I had hoped that she would not have learned how to utilise that skill. She is not as..." he struggled for the word.
"Oblivious?" I offered. Mat'al nodded. "I think Dell has seen too much shit to be that naïve. Between the Normandy missions, her capture by Saren, the whole murder incident,"
"Indeed. Speaking of which, how did you get her on the Normandy in the first place? Dell never told me the story," Mat'al asked. A smile lifted my lips.
"I guilt tripped Shepard," I said. The salarian burst out laughing, making me jump.
"Oh the blasted fool. Poor little Endellion, abandoned on the streets with no one to turn to. Staring up at you with such large, pleading eyes. Hard working girl who just needs a chance. She'll stroke your ego and everything," Mat'al mimicked.
"Not too far off the mark there," I admitted. Maybe Dell was right when she said he must be psychic. Mat'al chuckled, almost smug.
"Got in touch with who you wanted to?" he asked. I nodded.
"Aye, he's gathering friends and will be here in a few days, traffic permitting," he joked. Mat'al smiled, chilled.
"Indeed, even stubborn Anthon jumped at the chance after I dropped Dell's name. What has that girl wrought?" he asked. My shoulders shrugged, no one but Dell knew what the human had been up to.
My eyes snapped to the door again as another peel of laughter leaked through. She wasn't the same girl I had pulled out of a near kidnapping all those months ago. She didn't jump at every shadow now, and she was comfortable around aliens. Thank the spirits she wasn't following Cerberus' ideals. Nothing could have prepared me, however, for her sudden disappearance from Noveria. She had been receiving training from this salarian no less, her bruises were a tale of their own, but she was still a rookie. By anyone's standard. My heart had fluttered when she never answered my messages. Yet here she was, alive. Not perfect but… A frown grew as the paled skin and bagged eyes human from my memories surfaced. Rest would revive her. That and some half-decent food.
This Mat'al character … he was something different. This was the man who started her on this trail, on her journey to become a stronger person. My eye watched him from my peripheral vision. His methods, from what Dell parted with, were insane. He had shot at her on the shuttle – twice although the second wasn't with a live round – but Dell's reaction froze me. The lack of shock, the firming of her eyes, the gnashing of teeth, this wasn't anything new. Added to that, the man always kept air-rounds in that Predator now, waiting for a chance to use them. The man is an asshole. His cold shoulder treatment of just about everything caused a frown. How Dell coped with him, even got back in contact with him, was beyond my comprehension.
Oh sure, he had good intentions but his methods were too extreme. Given the circumstances of Feros, Dell had enough on her plate to worry about to include her own 'mentor' shooting her. Dell would get a few choice words from me about her choice of 'friends'. Another chortle of laughter emerged, this time with a snort between bursts. My brow plate rose, a thought of whoever she spoke to terrorising everything that moved. Not someone I wanted to meet. Mat'al groaned pushing himself off the barrier. He snatched up that Mantis sniper rifle and aimed it at the door. My mandibles flared as he released a bullet. The other salarians watched over, but didn't seem surprised. Upon impact, Sell swore. My jaw tightened to suppress the bursts of laughter trying to emerge as Dell threw open the door, her face a storm of thunderous rage.
"Mat'al Delern, you fucking asshole!" She roared. "You scared the hell out of Raisha's kids!" Mat'al raised a brow, sniper trained on her. The red laser danced upon her brow. She was too pissed to care.
"Then stop running up our phone bill," Mat'al answered over the distance, tone amused even if his expression was anything but. Dell fumed, shoulders hackling. She graced him with the human's 'one-finger salute'. Then she slammed the dented door shut.
She remained in there for another 2 hours, just for badness. Oh, Mat'al seethed when she emerged, but his face never showed it. The calm exterior remained. Dell had found a most dangerous ally. She struggled over on the crutches, but her mood had picked up, face warm with colour. She found balance as she stood before us. Dell shrugged with utmost care. Mat'al raised a brow, eyes dancing. He looked amused but then again, he was hard to rea- My jaw dropped when he kicked one of her crutches away. Dell managed one look, eyes fixated to the man as pure hatred smothered her expression. She smashed into the ground. She howled in pain as she landed ribs first. My snarled aimed towards the salarian. Mat'al pulled out the Predator.
"If you're finished, Miss Shaik, we have work to do," he said. She glared up at him from the floor as she struggled to roll herself into some other position that was not on her ribs. "Come along now," he added. Dell swore as she tried to scramble to her feet. With her thigh still in a non-functional state, she used the crutches hoist herself up. My hands reached out to help her.
Military instinct saved me from a stung cheek. The air round flew past my face as my limbs launched me backwards. My jaw dropped, gaping at the salarian. Mat'al didn't blink as he retrained the gun on a half-up Endellion. She got herself stable, bending down to recover the second crutch. My muscles remained frozen to the spot. Shooting Dell, yeah, that seemed normal for these two, but me? I... I... why? Dell's eyes narrowed to pools of molten purple metal as she locked onto Mat'al. She limped her way towards the salarian. Satisfied, he led her to a doorway. About five seconds after they vanished, my legs forced themselves to move to chase after them.
"While you were so considerately hogging the phone lines," Mat'al said. "I have been fleshing out the plan. First, we need to head to Illium, I know of a good few people there we can call up. Then we need a trip to Noveria for some... experimental tech. Then we could send a team to the Citadel without you there to-"
"But-" Dell tried.
"And then maybe a quick trip to Omega, can't hurt to try there for parts. Although, maybe a trip to Thessia to get some well-paid sponsorship would-"
"Mat'al!" Dell sighed, stopping. My feet slammed to a stop to prevent tripping over her. The salarian spun to face her. "Our first agenda should be to kit out the Starquake. New engines, new gear, new everything," Mat'al opened his mouth. "No, shut up for five minutes!" she snapped. My mandibles flared. Where the hell did this Dell surface from? Mat'al raised a brow. "I am not comfortable with a ship that needs five engines to hit FTL. And those engines needs a defence system as well that isn't so shaky that even the engineers are nervous about them. Maybe some a magnetic shield with barriers on the poles. Most ships fire plasma or electromagnetic waves right? That should deflect it. And you already have a rotating body, not that different to a planet's core," Dell frowned as she thought.
"Assuming we could afford to do such a thing," Mat'al reminded. Dell's eyes swivelled to his. "Then what?"
"The Citadel," Dell answered, straight faced.
"Why?" he asked.
"Sovereign, that's why!" Dell sighed, annoyed. "I need... I need to know how indoctrination works. That is my current goal. If there is a Reaper inside of me, everyone around me in in danger. I will not reduce my friends to mindless slaves!" Dell snapped. "I will find a way to stop indoctrination, even if it means people have chips implanted in them. Even if I need to be secluded behind a barrier until a more portable one is found. Anything! The machinery inside of me can wait," She finished. Mat'al clucked his tongue, watching her stoic expression.
"...Very well. Then we will need to head to Illium regardless to pick up scientists to flesh out the team. I'll work with some contacts, try and see what access to the parts of Sovereign is like," The salarian answered, eyes distant as his thoughts demanded attention. Endellion relax, slumping into the crutches.
"Thank you," she said.
"Then we had best prepare ourselves. How many hands were you able to muster?" I asked. Dell smiled, even flushed. She didn't look too pleased with herself.
"Around 15," she said. My back straightened. Didn't realise she could call that many...
"I got 8," I answered. "Some damned good turians,"
"Including Anthon and his team and mine, we have another 13 to add. Just over the minimum. It will have to do," Mat'al rubbed his chin. "We can fill the spaces with my Illium contacts. Then we have the ranks to sort out... we have a few days to play with. You'll be walking too. Assuming you don't pileup any more phone bills," Mat'al warned. Dell shrugged.
"Don't disturb me like a teenage tantrum and I'll see what I can do," she said with a light tone. Why didn't Dell shut up? She yelled as another air-round nabbed her in the shoulder.