The datapad blinked, another name filled in a spreadsheet of crew names and a long series of empty boxes. Or they had been empty when the datapad fell into my hands. Every muscle ached to pull my head up, fighting against the tiny part of me that wanted to hide away from such things, even though it wasn't anything new to me. A white sheet covered the body of Etal Dewani. The pale purple salarian, from what Kala could tell from the security cams on the ship, had fallen to Indoctrination. Had the cameras not been working, we would never have known. My finger trembled as the box beside her name clicked active, filling with 'Deceased; presumed indoctrinated' with heavy fingers. My soft sigh dragged upturned the brows of the turian beside me. It did not help my situation. We turned to the last body in the morgue, thank God. After this duty of crew status gathering fell on my shoulders, a bubble formed in my stomach, churning until cramps threatened to pull me to the ground. My eyes fell to the report at the bottom of the gurney poking free from the refrigerated unit. The rest of the units were filled with the rest of the dead crew. Andria Wilkys sat at the top of the report, a detailed post mortem following with a summary at the bottom. The summary was more than enough. Shot dead by turian soldiers after she refused to stand down. So she was indoctrinated. My head shook, still fighting for how Sitoln indoctrinated people to begin with. Fingers crossed this is the last time I'll deal with a dead body. My eyes squeezed shut, dreading the coming days. When was help coming? My head shook hard, turning my attention to the living.
11 lay dead, 12 crew members gone in total if you including Sitoln after failing to chase us through the relay. Andria, Hagan, Erikos, Henry and Etal were all indoctrinated, from what we could tell. Connor, Ishisus, Lesley, Arthan, Aergus and Hakern were casualties of the attack. The morgue vanished behind me as the doctors and technicians slide the bodies back into their units. It could have been so much worse, so much worse if that mass relay hadn't been there. That we took to Palaven was a miracle. The whole crew could've been dead, leaving me to pilot a dead ship with indoctrinated servants… or would they have died in the venting too? A ding snapped me awake, the elevator doors parting after a more attentive turian noticed my absent mind. A red flush stained my cheeks, stepping inside, waiting the minute to fly up 12 floors. My lungs filled with a breath once at the top, preparing myself for what waited beyond those doors.
Moaning hung though the air once the doors opened. My leg froze mid-step, frozen as rushing turians danced through the maze of corridors and doorways, trollies of equipment flew by, a swell and ebb of bodies and equipment. Wheeled medicines cabinets lay abandoned everywhere. Shouts called over the din, sending small crews to scurry to their location. The carnage reminded me of the ship, only replace gunfire and explosions with the hiss and beep of machines. The first doorway granted a quieter sanctuary. A four-man room had one or two nurses, but no one was critical. The faced settle my shoulders, a quiet relief. Phentos, Lani, Marruns and Drutus lay here, dazed, hurt and drugged. Lani hadn't recovered consciousness yet, a nurse securing a curtain behind her as she darted off, blocking him from view. The other three were awake, but Phentos looked dopy, eyes pried with uneven lids. Marruns grumbled from his bed, bandages around his chest. Drutus lay silent, although his sharp eyes tagged me once the threshold. My shoulders rolled back, dragging in a slow breath before approaching him. His name danced on the datapad.
"Shaik," he greeted. Marruns stopped grumbling, lifting his head enough to catch sight of me across the room. A tired smile lifted my lips.
"H-hey. I-I'm taking the crew status for the Council," I said, shaking my head to dissipate the nausea.
"Oh? And why you?" Drutus asked, settling deeper into the pillows at his back. A frown found the floor, making sure he knew the frown wasn't for him.
"I wish I knew," I said. "I've already had to look over dead bodies, now I get to look at mutilated people," Drutus chuckled, shaking his head.
"The Councillor will have his reason. Ask him when you finish," he said. His words failed to lighten the load on my shoulders.
"How is everyone?" I asked.
"Marruns has a few broken ribs and a dislocated hip, he didn't get stabbed spirits be praised," Drutus said. "Lanster has bullet wounds to the lower chest and legs and a nasty bump to the head but will be fine assuming the concussion does no lasting damage. Phentos has a cracked skull, a broken wrist and several burns to chest. Myself, I am down with a dislocated elbow and 4 bullet wounds to the left thigh. A 2 to 3 weeks at least to heal up those at my age," his words filled out the form on the datapad, the injuries racked up already. How was Drutus so calm and collected while resting in a hospital bed when no one could defend us, did he even know?
"I've contacted the Constellation, they are sending reinforcements to help guard us until we are back on our feet," I said. Drutus blinked once. "I don't know how many Uncle Julian is sending,"
"Spirits be merciful, he'll send a small fleet. What of the Starquake?" Drutus asked. Heavy shoulders muscled a small shrug.
"No idea, I have to ask the Councillor assuming he's been in contact with the spaceport," I said. "Is this what mum has to do every day?" Marruns laughed, struggling with the aching ribs.
"Hell no, she has people to this shit for her. Your mother has to deal with the final reports, collate all of it and report it to the right people, on top of planning everything else," Marruns said. He shook his head. "Running a ship is only hard if you have incompetent people doing the legwork," The room filled with agreeing murmurs. "Ah well, enjoy the exercise,"
"Fuck you," I snapped. "I was about to thank you for saving me but now I'm just going to write here, 'Lieutenant Bellium delirious with douchebaggery," Marruns popped his jaw.
"It's commander, you little shit!" he snapped, watching me storm from the room with a scowl.
And thus it repeated. Every room promised new injuries and horror, but it had to be done. The nurses didn't let me into the worst rooms, rather they brought out the charts and gave me the report themselves. I needed injuries and estimated recovery times. The soonest someone would be on their feet was a week, down with lacerations to the legs and arms. The worst was 2 months; a shattered pelvis. Even with accelerated bone growth treatment, it took time because of how difficult the area was to treat. Those I knew best were still in surgery or unconscious. Sassy was out cold, Cops and mum were in surgery, Indira was in ICU, Flash was in an isolation room. When the report finished, the activity bustled around me, my eyes staring at the datapad with a cold weight in my stomach. Part of me wished I was bedridden, then I wouldn't have such a heavy weight on my shoulders.
"They have the fire on the Starquake under control now," Kala said in my ear. It snapped me awake, returning me to the chaos of the ward. My head managed a weak nod, sliding out of the ward towards the small offices. Everyone, ship included, could recover now, but for how long before trouble reappeared? No, report to the Councillor first, then worry about all of that. Dammit, I shouldn't be doing this. The small communication hub surrounded me, a trembling finger navigating through mum's omni-tool to reach the number. The turian Councillor answered quicker to last time.
"Shaik, what is the situation?" he ordered. My weight shuffled in the chair.
"We can have a few people on their feet in a week, more in two weeks. Some will be down for a month or two though," I said. Sparatus tapped a talon, waiting for my report to arrive in his inbox. When it did, his mandibles clicked.
"There is no update on the Captain," he said.
"Mum's still in surgery, they… they were too busy to give a report" I answered, voice failing. "Why are you making me do this? I've seen enough dead bodies already," Sparatus glanced up from the report, studying my downtrodden expression before returning to my data.
"Because, Gideon, you are one of the few people I believe who is not a Saboteur," he said. My back straightened. "Your mother would check and double check to ensure you didn't fall to indoctrination or were a Saboteur. That and we have to punish you somehow for flying under age," My brows dropped.
"Thanks," I said, tone souring. "What about the Starquake?"
"A team of engineers has assembled to begin repairs as soon as possible." He said, distracted. My shoulders sagged, sinking into the chair, eyes drifting over the veins of the wooden table top before me. Sparatus tapped a talon on the table. "When is your security due to arrive?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said, shaking my head, opening mum's omni-tool. A galaxy map popped out, the same map she used to track friendly ships. The Constellation cruised in the Ismar Frontier, although the Andromeda navigated through the Serpent Nebula. My lips turned down. Why was he sending in a cruiser? "I… I don't think it'll be long. I think he's sending a cruiser to Palaven,"
"A cruiser?" Sparatus asked, brow plates flicked up.
"Ah yeah, the Andromeda is a relay jump away from here," I said.
"I see. I'll let Palaven Command know. You will still need to identify the crew upon landing, however," he explained.
"Alr-…aye, aye," I said. Sparatus nodded. We exchanged a brief goodbye before the line died, leaving me to sit in silence until word reached about my uncle's arrival.
It took 4 hours for the Andromeda to arrive Palaven's system. Oseriun escorted me from the hospital to a waiting shuttle with his crew to meet the 'defenders of the Starquake'. Inside the stuffy shuttle, a small part of my mind prayed this was the signal for the start of my recovery time. Maybe he could take some of the work off my shoulders. Even if he was a dick… why was this a good idea again? A shiver quaked my spine once the shipping terminal loomed above us, the angular city slipping away behind us. The Starquake lay here in a smouldering ruin, not a sight anyone wanted to see. Any tension released when we turned down a different route, towards the larger docks. The security was through the roof. Despite my Starquake uniform, ID and even soldiers backing me up, it took an half an hour to get inside the hanger. And they escorted us the entire way, not trusting me or the turians who came with me. The guards ignored my grumbles as we weaved through the docks and security gates, a ring of Oseriun and his crew of 5 soldiers between me and the new turian guards. Despite what the turians believed, I wasn't interested in any turian secrets. I wanted to see my uncle so he can take charge and give me a chance to rest. And keep mum safe. Was she out of surgery yet?
The Andromeda loomed up before us, the hull of the huge ship warmed my heart. A massive wall of pale coloured walls and streaks of black decorated the dock, red streaks of light pulsing through the black veins. Although the dock was huge and airy, my stomach plunged, a chill shuddering down my spine. The airlocks on decks 4, 8 and 12 were already open, a sea of aliens waiting in neat lines along the dock with more pouring out. Uncle Julian brought a small army battalion. Walkways clung to the sides of the hanger, gangways soaring over the cruiser to allow inspections. All carried armed turians with twitchy fingers. My throat tightened, refocusing my attention to the standoff dockside. A massive turian squared up against Uncle Julian. The immovable object against the unstoppable force… and I wasn't sure who was who yet. Was it too much to hope for that he wouldn't cause problems?
"Uncle Julian," I called. The blond man spared me a glance, eyes narrowed and eyebrows drawn down tight before he refocused on the turian before him. The iron coloured alien refused to move. Well, at least I knew who the immovable wall was.
"Gideon," he greeted. "May we pass now, Rear Admiral?" he asked, tone dropped low. The turian glared,
"We have protocols, human. You'd be wise to follow them," he said, a diamond sharp tone making even me wince. With nervous shuffled steps, the turian glanced down to my small form falling in beside my uncle.
"Uncle Julian, please be nice," I said. My skin burned, his hot glare finding its target. "I'm sorry about him, he can be pushy when he comes to mum. What protocols are you talking about?" the turian's hackles settled, composure settling with someone willing to follow orders.
"Paperwork and security. Your uncle is refusing to fill them," he said. My hands rubbed my eyes until they ached. Uncle Julian remained steadfast.
"Can I see it please? My… My uncle is to remain off the grid as much as possible. Council orders and whatnot," I said. The turian frowned at me. "He does a lot of undercover work for them," Please don't be a Spectre, please don't be a Spectre! The turian shuffled, shifting his gaze over Uncle Julian. He passed me a datapad, eyes glued to the bulky human.
"I swear with this Saboteur shit going on, you can't trust anyone," the turian grumbled. A small frown formed on my lips.
"You know about Saboteurs?" I asked. He snorted.
"Yeah, I was with your mother on Dekunna. Damn near died from that thing disabling my suit. Got a promotion for it but spirits, that was not pleasant," he sighed. A bubble of hope surfaced.
"Are you Captain Imperious?" I asked. He grinned.
"I was. I'm a Rear Admiral now," he chuckled. An idea flickered through my head.
"Thanks for saving my mum. She told me you carried her to get medical treatment after Thapeli fell," I said. Imperious' composure softened.
"Your mother and I have our disagreements, but she'd make a half-decent soldier in the Hierarchy, when she learns to follow command structure," Imperious said with a wide grin.
My eyes trailed over to Uncle Julian, noting he studied the turian rather than glowering. A slow breath released. It worked, it worked! With Uncle Julian now stepping off his high horse, my eyes turned to the datapad in my hand. Uncle Julian needed reasons to work with people, helping mum was one of them. But the form was long, complicated and used words I didn't understand or needed information I didn't know. Uncle Julian would have to fill most of this in, if not all of it. What did he even change his birthday to, thinking about it. Mum had to change the year of her birth, although the Council had her original date somewhere. With quivering hands, they offered the datapad to Uncle Julian. He stared at it, judging the offensive machine.
"The sooner you fill it in, the quicker we can get to mum. There's so many people at the hospital and any of them could be a Saboteur. I-I really don't want to leave people there long without…" I said, voice trailing off. He breathed hard, a rushing mountain of air. He took the datapad from my hand, giving Imperious another hard look before lowering his gaze and typing. Imperious nodded in my direction, a small grin on his face.
Once Uncle Julian filled out the form, we toiled for another 2 hours to get him and his 200 man crew through security. Imperious took over from Oseriun to guard me throughout the entire procedure, standing by my shoulder and fending off any offending turians with a long stare. He had the rank that Oseriun didn't, the younger turian more than happy to surrender duty of care for a time. With Imperious clearing myself, Uncle Julian and some handpicked members of his crew to shuttle over while the rest went through security, the city soared beneath us. Imperious remained at the port to oversee everything, but he assured me he would come for a visit soon. The hospital security was easier for me this time now that the guards had memorised me. It took a little bit of fighting, but they let Uncle Julian through after a time. One doctor had a problem against humans and Uncle Julian was his definition of a bad human. Uncle Julian's crew had a more difficult time and needed extra time, much to my Uncle's frustration. Once through though, we entered the ward with the moaning sounds and the white walls and dark grey, wide tiled floor. My stomach churned, all Uncle Julian cared about was mum while he nipped at my heels. Sheria called me over when she spotted me showing my uncle and his crew where everything was. The gentle turian smiled as we approached.
"Hello Gideon, I have news about your mother," she said. My heart paused. "She has survived the surgery and is recovering in ICU," My shoulders slumped, a heavy weight sliding free from them. She was alive, she hadn't died!
"T-Thank you. I-I'll see her when I show my uncle where everything is," I said. Sheria smiled before straightening and disappearing down the hall. My eyes found Uncle Julian, his shoulders tense as he followed the turian with his eyes. We pressed deeper down the hall, poking my heads into each of the rooms so he knew how to space his team. He didn't seem to be care, more eager to find where the ICU rooms were. Mum's room was the last room we found for that reason. It would be a long, long day.
It turned into a long week with no rest in sight. A new sheet lay sprawled on my datapad, a headache blooming from the bizarre array of tables and orders given by the Council. They wanted an updated status for all crew, marking an update on the captain as critical. This table was more involved now the Council had a better idea of what was wrong with the crew and more pointed questions demanded more extensive answers, although Sparatus said he accepted my age would limit the detail somewhat. They also wanted an update on Starquake repair status, now they had given me the details for the engineers working on the ship. And an update on the medical bill total so they could tally up things on their end so that meant speaking with the hospital's administrators. Sparatus mentioned he would like an update on the equipment available for the crew, the Council needed to get requisitions in about missing arms and armour so we can launch straight back into action. The upheaved, tiny communication room disappeared behind me, the room evolving into my own 'office'. It made me primary contact for the Council, even with other crew on their feet. They even had a copy of my omni-tool number to call me directly for God sake. Shuffling down the hall, my head poked into the passing wards.
The lesser injured crew wandered the halls, keeping everyone else company or helping the staff where possible. Moving helped the muscles get back into order so they said. The turian army converted a 4-bed room into a small physio room by order of the Primarch so those almost back to form could get the full treatment necessary. From the security reports, also falling onto my lap, no Saboteurs had tried to strike the team – yet – in the three weeks since we had been here. Either that or there had but Uncle Julian's crew put a stop to it. My feet paused by a door, listening for any sign of life. A steady 'beep' was the only sound. With tentative, careful movements, my head slipped inside. Lying on the bed, the still form of my mother dimmed what hope bubbled, the machines ticking away while her body fought to heal. Uncle Julian, locked to her side, lounged on a chair beside her on the far side of the room, eyes cast down onto a datapad. His soft murmurs of idle chatter hummed low in the room, a whispered hope mum listened. No change. My eyes dropped, pulling myself from the doorway and securing the door.
The Council would not like it, but it was beyond my control. There was enough to deal with what with running between medical staff, crew members, the turian military, Uncle Julian's crew, the Council and keeping contact with all of mum's contacts who buzzed with updates. They knew mum was out of action, but they didn't realise a 13 year old was to keep tabs on everything now. A more naïve me thought with my uncle here, I could rest and come to terms with what happened. But no, the opposite happened. The Council couldn't know of Uncle Julian under any circumstances, they weren't the clearest of thinkers when it came to Shaiks. They'd want to pull him in rank with mum. The story we flew with was that he was a descendant of my mum's family we had discovered – to account for the same surname – and who let me call him 'Uncle'. Everyone else was told the 'he's also a Council Special Op' to account for the miniature army he brought. That left me dealing with the Council. Also the Turian Hierarchy, since I was the more 'approachable and polite' Shaik compared to my uncle although Imperious was the one who went between us when possible. A small relief. That and the only thing that dragged Uncle Julian away from mum was security issues, and he didn't listened unless I nagged him.
But we were recovering. The Starquake wasn't as damaged as she looked. Her overall integrity was good. The Council's engineers worked alongside Uncle Julian's, the job completing double time. She'd be ready in a month, at the current rate. The crew? Apart from mum, most would be up and ready before then. Mum's progress depended on when she woke up. If she woke up. My head shook hard. She would wake up, she's a Shaik! She had to-
"Madam, this ward is closed off," a gruff turian rumbled.
"I demand to see Shaik! This is the last straw!" a woman snapped. A frown grew on my face, pausing at the top of the corridor at the scene brewing by the entrance to the ward. A stumpy red crested krogan blocked the view.
"Which one?" the turian asked.
"What do you mean 'which one'?" the woman asked, tone fiery.
"The small Shaik is running the show here," the krogan said. My pride stung. Dammit, I'm not small!
"What? Where is his mother?! What kind of mother abandons her child to 'run the show' here? After what happened-" the woman snapped.
"Now let's just take a deep breath, Anita-" a new man's voice said.
"That woman- that child was on her last chance! Can't even provide a safe home for a traumatised-" the woman, Anita, growled.
My blood turned cold. The voice rang familiar, chilling every nerve until my body trembled. A flashback of a huffy woman refusing to believe I was happy and safe on the ship, fighting me every turn to make me a 'normal child'. She hated my escape attempts, hated them and did everything to stop them. She failed, but she never stopped. Why was she here, how did she find out what happened? A hard lump slid down my throat. Memories of a fake smile, whispered grumbles of discontent and the constant drone of 'Oh, he is so traumatised'. It all rushed back. This woman was an idiot, incapable of understanding I found my home and she ripped me from it. My blood boiled and froze with each syllable she spoke. And I knew why she was here too. My feet inched back down the hall, easing weight into each foot. A single step, a single sound, could tip them off to my presence.
"I apologise for my colleague. But we have right of access through the Child Adoption and Fostering Act 2150 Section 4.3," the male said. There was a pause, an electronic tapping of omni-tools. It didn't stop my careful retreat, trembling shaking my knees as the bundle of bodies vanished from view.
"Fine, but you must speak to the Council on any mandate you reach," the turian sighed.
My flood froze then, spinning on my toes and bolting down the halls. The coldness strangled my chest, a tremble refusing to leave fought to buckle my knees. My boots squealed, skidding around a corner, missing a nurse with a pill trolley by a hair. She got a hurried apology before she disappeared behind me. They weren't taking me back, I wasn't going back! I was not leaving my family again! Not again. My hands fumbled at mum's door, squeezing it open with my shoulder and throwing myself in. Uncle Julian's eyes snapped, hand dropped to the pistol at his hip already half out of his chair. The door shut behind me.
"We have a problem," I said, air rushing in massive waves. He blinked once.
"What kind of problem?" he asked, voice cold, calculating, already preparing for a million different threats to mum.
He didn't finish by the time my legs crossed the distance in three steps, making a mad grab for his pistol. His hand found my wrist first. The sharp pain snapped me still, staring up at him with a worsening tremor. His entire expression narrowed, judging my sanity. My fingers flexed. His grip tightened. He refused to let go. The door knocked.
My head snapped up, eyes wide like a bush baby. Anita Jenkins and Mark Harrison crossed the threshold. The tremor shook me until even my knees buckled. The pair paused as their eyes caught the sight of mum unconscious on the bed. They shifted their eyes to Uncle Julian and I. Uncle Julian raised himself straight. The rippling muscles reminded me of an aggravated bear stirring from their slumber. He released his grip on me, walking around the bed to lean on the side closest to the strangers in the room, His massive frame distracted them from mum, shielding her from their gaze. He folded his arms.
"Can I help you?" he asked. Anita shuffled, but straightened herself. She wasn't expecting a massive, muscular male with an attitude problem before. And he brandished the pistol openly.
"Good afternoon, sir, I am Anita Jenkins from the Citadel Earth Embassy Child Services. I was hoping to speak to Miss Shaik but I see she is… in no condition to speak," she said, eyes trailing over mum. Uncle Julian narrowed his eyes, rolling his shoulders forward to drag her attention back. "Well if there are no available guardians, then-"
"You're here for Gideon," Uncle Julian said, a sharp statement. Anita jumped at the venom in his tone. "Fuck off, I won't tell you twice," he warned. Anita shuffled, glancing to Mark. Mark coughed before stepping forward.
"Apologies, sir, but Miss Shaik has breached her adoption contract. After this unfortunate event, we cannot guarantee Gideon is in a safe environment," he explained. "Miss Shaik was on her last warning and Gideon has no other guardians registered to him," Uncle Julian glanced over his shoulder focusing me quivering in his shadow. He turned back to the pair.
"He looks safe enough," he said. Mark opened his mouth. "And what is this about no guardians? Endellion would have registered her XO and her commanders. Hell, every member of her crew,"
"Ah, well, we made the condition that the guardian had to be a family member-" Mark said.
"Why?" Uncle Julian interrupted, tone chilling, shoulders rolling even further forward. Mark trembled.
"W-Well, due to her profession. The other 'guardians' she suggested are all within the same environment. We requested family as we hoped she could provide someone within a more secure situation for Gideon should anything happen," Mark said.
"That and we do not appreciate being threatened," Anita grumbled under her breath. Mark scowled, Anita snorting. Uncle Julian granted her a frozen smile. "Who are you anyway?" she folded her arms, a challenge against someone she had no hope of besting.
"Fleet Admiral Julian Shaik," he answered, emphasising each syllable, the 'k' cracking like a bull whip. Anita's face fell.
"…Shaik?" she echoed.
"Are… Are you her husband?" Mark asked, sharing a look with Anita.
"Elder brother," Uncle Julian said. The shuffling only worsened.
"And… why are you not on the guardian list, i-if I may?" Mark asked. Uncle Julian's smile widened.
"Because we are in the family business of killing things that like to destroy the galaxy. By Council orders, I am off the radar as a Special Op," he said. Anita and Mark fell silent.
"Ah… w-well in that case, I-It would be best if we remove Gideon for the time being. M-Miss Shaik can dispute this once she is fit but…" his voice died as my uncle's body language shifted, tensing. Uncle Julian tapped a finger on his arm.
"You're not going to leave without the little devil, are you?" he asked. "Or leave my sister in peace," Anita and Mark quivered, a venomous promise in Uncle Julian's tone forcing them against the door. Uncle Julian breathed through his nose. He reached into a pocket, making the pair jump out of their skin. He dragged out his helmet, letting it fold out and click into place. Uncle Julian pushed something on the earpiece, slipping it over his head for a moment. He pulled it off and tossed it to me. It flailed in my shaking hands. "Put it on. Do not take it off until I say so," he ordered.
The grey, blue and white helmet quivered in my hands, the huge helmet far too big for me. The tone in my uncle's voice froze everything in the room, my hands raising the helmet over my head, sliding it over. A loud hissing sound surrounded me, an annoying bug flying around my ears. The sound deafened me, drowning out all other sounds in the room. The helmet swung around on my head, both hands keeping it in place. As time passed, my eyes trailed over Uncle Julian, waiting for him to shoot. Nothing happened. Not until through the hiss, a faint robotic rumble hummed low in the air. The quiet sound could be dismissed with ease had my brain not noticed it, had Kala not picked up something was wrong. Anita and Mark glanced around the room, also hearing the noise. The air vibrated, every hair standing to attention. After a minute or two, Anita and Mark's arms dropped, their entire body sagging, ready to fall limp on the floor. Their expressions emptied. My eyes bulged. Uncle Julian spoke.
"You are content with the living conditions Endellion Shaik has provided Gideon with. All breeches of the contract have been false alarms. This unfortunate accident has shown that even in harsh conditions, Endellion Shaik can provide what is necessary to ensure he is safe," he said, voice twitched with heavy electronic tones, so much so his words made little sense at first. A tremor of a headache tickled my temples.
"B-But sh-she… ah… y-yes. A-A terrible accident," Anita stammered as if drunk. "There is no problem, Miss Shaik has been a stellar woman to work with,"
"Y-Yes, e-everything is fine. We will return for a probation update in-" Mark slurred.
"No probation period. You are satisfied all is well. You and your organisation will not contact Endellion Shaik on this matter. At all. Everything is concluded. No calls, no letters. Gideon is Endellion Shaik's," Julian said, the echoes of vids from Sovereign flashing before my minds. He sounded like a Reaper, all monotone and electronic. Blood trickled out of Uncle Julian's ears. My headache grew, creeping closer towards my eyes. Strange shadows at the edges of my vision snapped to my attention, tension running like lightning once my brain figured out what it was. My hand rose to the radio, increasing the volume of the white noise until it hurt to think. The headache eased, the shadows receded. The pair perked, as if zapped back into life.
"Of course! How foolish of us," Anita said with a broad smile. She typed on a datapad. "God, this just shows how lazy our informants are, throwing us on wild goose chases like this. I'll say this is a successful adoption. Looks like we can close to case,"
"Certainly does. Well then, we should get back to the Citadel. Any problems, please inform Miss Shaik to not hesitate to call," Mark said, his tone cheering up.
"Leave. Return to whence you came. Never bother Endellion Shaik or Gideon Shaik again," Uncle Julian said.
"Well we best be off. All the best for the future, Gideon," Mark called, raising a hand as he turned.
"Ah, I am so relieved to close the book on this one. We have much more important cases to tend to," Anita agreed, leaving without another word, the door closing behind her with a click.
Uncle Julian and I stood as statues, the white noise bursting my ears as the headache threatened to drown me, fighting to spread. Uncle Julian lowered himself to the floor, hands burrowing up into his hair, hands clenched until small tufts of hair tore loose. No muscle moved, frozen and unresponsive. Uncle Julian's ragged breathing pitched, fighting for air. A stream of blood dripping out of his ears still. My hands clung to the helmet, refusing to release it for fear of it falling off. He didn't move for an hour.
When he moved, he dragged himself to a chair and heaved himself onto it, doubling over. By now, the headache that threatened to consume me passed. But still my fingers refused to turn down the volume, refused to remove the helmet. He sat for another 15 minutes, dragging in air. He straightened with care, dried blood running down his cheeks and fresh blood pooling around his eyes. The corners of his mouth stained red and a thick cake of blood covered under his nose. His eyes were worse, a sea of red with blue orbs dancing through it. My body moved, finding itself. My hands grabbed a tub of wet wipes. He raised a hand to grab one, but his whole arm shook as he took one.
"You can take the helmet off now," he said, voice drained. He wiped the blood from the face. The helmet slipped off, ears ringing.
"What… happened?" I asked. He snorted as he squeezed his eyes, more blood sliding free. When he opened his eyes, the upper part of his eye whitened.
"My Saboteur Specialisation," he said with a sigh. "Your mother's is Pheromone Control, mine is Mind Manipulation. Both are forms of hard and fast indoctrination methods without fully indoctrinating them, or causing a brain haemorrhage. However, when your Reaper does not like you using said specialisation, they do everything in their power to stop you," he moaned, rocking his head. "Thank God your mother never tried to learn how to use hers," he took the helmet from me, folding it up and clipping it back onto his belt. "The white noise minimises the effects of mine since I can't direct it. Your mother would kill me if I indoctrinated you,"
"… Thank you?" I said, unable to think of anything more adequate. Uncle Julian grunted. "Do… do you need anything?"
"Some peace and quiet," Uncle Julian said, head flopping back. "Also, coffee. Lots of coffee,"
"Coffee?" a crocked voice murmured. Uncle Julian and I froze, eyes snapped to the bed. My heart beat faster.
"Mum?" I asked. No response. My eyes found Uncle Julian. I didn't imagine that, we both couldn't have. He stood on shaken legs.
"Latte or cappuccino?" he asked.
"Latte," she said, voice weak. Relief burst through me like a bomb exploding in my chest.
"Mum! You're awake!" I cried, bouncing to her side. No response. Uncle Julian chuckled.
"Typical, can't function without coffee," he said, shaking his head. he staggered to the door. "Oi, get a latte. And an espresso too while you're at it!" he called. Maybe things were looking up now
The Fact Sheet, Saboteur Sheet and Galaxy Map have been updated for this chapter. Please see profile for link to Archive.