Here we go! I am back! So, for those asking, the AO3 account has been and will be updated. That was my bad. There were some technical issues with it that took more time. Secondly, Mass Effect: Fear the Old Blood is still being worked on; I haven't abandoned it. At this point, I think I'm going to lock myself in a room and just get the next chapter done. It hasn't been updated in 5/6 months, which is far too long, and that's my fault. I apologize. As for this chapter... we find out the certain members of the Scoundrels are, perhaps, better left in the passenger seat instead of behind the wheel. (And a certain popular someone is showing up again...) Enjoy our fluffy and fun stuff before we get into galactic politics and the grim darkness of the far future!
will00: Oh, I fogot about that! I think there were a few of both, actually. Alas, for everyone involved, Cain would certainly shoot down that idea for more reasons than one.
phillipeburroughs: It'll be here! I have most of it written, and I only have shore leave going forward, so I hope you enjoy!
blazotony1: Thank you. As for that, I've floated some ideas, but none of them seem to 'click'. I'm sure I'll find the right future for everyone's favorite green armored super-soldier. Though, the Chief does know what (some; a lot in the Scoundrels fleet) the ladies like: big guns and bigger explosions.
FORGEMaster: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Ketchup imaginario: More Cain is here! I do love him, and I wish I got more opportunity to write things from his POV.
Vumanchu: Thank you. That does mean a lot. I'm glad you enjoy things, and I'm looking forward to writing more!
Ravenguard0009: Yeah, the Imperium is very different from everyone else, and in a few chapters, our more idealistic heroes are going to find out why. Thanks for the input, and I hope you enjoy what's to come!
Guest: 'Come and See' is not for the faint of heart. I think most of the soldiers would relate on some level, especially the Imperials. While the Valhallans don't start super young, like the Cadians or Kriegers, they'll still understand.
Clare Prime of Ultra: Revenant is my favorite as well. I pretty much stopped paying attention to Apex after he came out. The Shadowed Lords will continue with their recruiting mission in this chapter, and snag their final (and most powerful) member. I hope you enjoy what's to come!
GrailGuardianXIX: Yeah, the Imperials and non-Imperials have a very different view of things, which can really only be rectified by a journey to their galaxy to see things directly. I hope you enjoy what's to come!
Guest: Thanks for the ideas. I really do appreciate the input and enthusiasm. I do think I'll add your ideas at a future date; right now we have some things to put in first. Actually, I also did have an idea for a prison break scene, and I was thinking "Ain't that a Kick in the Head" as a tribute to Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, but that would work too. Choices, choices... Again, I do appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy the story!
BonesofSmite: Oh, the governments are coming soon enough. That's something else I'm looking forward to. I hope you enjoy!
Guest: Ah, another one that I forgot. (I hate to be 'this guy' but the book Starship Troopers was completely different from the movie and a lot better, so if anyone is a fan, check that out. It's where the concept of power armor comes from, actually.) Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Guest: Posted and updated! My apologies for my slowness.
Drives Me Crazy
"Kill first, calculate later." -motto of the Winged Hussars
"That is a vehicle comprised entirely of guns, ammo, gas, water and poor impulse control." on modified WWII Jeeps
oOo
"This would have gone a lot better if we had done it stealthily, you know, like I suggested!" Shepard panted, annoyed, as she tossed the sentence to the men running beside her.
"We tried stealthy on that mercenary mission, and on both of these it would have ended the same way!" shot back Drake. The black-coated mercenary spun to put a bullet through a security guard chasing them. The rifle-wielding man fell dead onto the concrete pavement.
"Oh, yeah, like this is much better!" snapped Shepard.
"Hey, I like it better," muttered Solo as they ran. The smuggler turned, drew his blaster in one smooth movement, and shot another pursuing guard. "Besides, it's how these things always seem to go, anyway."
"Yeah, but it would be nice if it went differently at least once!" yelled Kirk.
"Be nice, never gonna happen," sighed Vir.
The allied group was now within Drake's galaxy, upon a planet called Tyran. Their mission, as arranged by Drake, was to take a cache of information from within an expansive governmental facility and return it to his employers. Due to the massive amount of troops and the hostility of Tyran's government, it was a full-scale deployment, with numbers of the fleet's various ground troops joining their commanders on the planet below.
Unfortunately, stealth was not part of the equation due to a variety of issues, including upgraded security, time, and temperament, and so a more… direct plan was presented. Of course, even with power and superior tactics, nothing ever seemed to go as planned.
As Shepard, Drake, Solo, Vir, and Kirk rounded another corner, they ran into Cain, Jurgen, Quill, and a group of troopers. Cain nodded to them in greeting as Quill cheerfully blasted away with his dual pistols at a group of advancing guards.
"Gentlemen, Shepard," said Cain. Shepard chuckled under her breath. "Cooper told me he and the Chief have what we came for. The issue now is getting out in one piece."
"That's kind of an important issue," deadpanned Solo. There were a few snickers at that. Quill and the troopers kept firing.
"Drake to Apocolypse, asset secured. Need exfil. Closest location for gunship landings?" queried the black-armored mercenary over his comms. Beside him, the other commanders frowned. That was the main issue of the situation they found themselves in: the military base was located on the edge of a city, and despite the skill and firepower on their side, any landings to pick them up would have to be done in a different location. The longer they stayed here, the more casualties they got and the more reinforcements the enemy got.
"Apocalypse to Drake, acknowledged. Closest exfil location marked. Be advised we cannot support you until you are out of the city's vicinity." More frowns greeted that news. Not unexpected, but certainly unwelcome. Due to the proximity of the military, which might have included anti-air weapons (not to mention the city full of civilians), they couldn't expect any support from above.
"How do we get out of here?" muttered Vir, thinking aloud. The others looked around.
"Anything we could use from the base?" suggested Kirk. Not a bad idea, actually. There was a slight pause.
"Cooper, Chief, have you guys stopped by the armory?" asked Shepard, activating her comms. There was a moment's delay before the Titan Pilot replied.
"No, it's deeper in the base. Why?" Shepard cursed under her breath.
"Air support can't reach us here, so we need to get out and past the city to get back to the fleet. We're trying to figure out a way to do that. Any suggestions?" Another pause while the group waited, interrupted only by intermittent gunfire.
"Well, we're moving pretty quickly. Not a lot that can stand in the Chief's way. We'll be at your position once we pass the vehicle depot," reported Cooper. "Then we can figure out what to do from there." Shepard looked up, startled, as her comrades began to grin.
"Wait, vehicle depot?" she asked.
"Yeah, it's to the west, enclosed by a wall, between us and you," came Cooper's reply.
"Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Drake with a grin. Considering the others wearing the same expression, they likely were.
"Okay, new plan everyone!" called Kirk over the general comms. "Regroup at the vehicle depot!" The now-combined group moved out, laying down a curtain of suppressing fire at the guards as they maneuvered towards the depot.
The interior of the base was largely gray concrete walls and brutalist-style office buildings, bunkers, and barracks. These the group flitted through with ease, cutting down any of the guards that got in their way. Blasters, pistols, lasguns, mass-accelerated weapons and the deep rumbling growl of a chainsword sounded through the air.
It was only a short distance to the depot. The vehicle storage area was sealed behind a large, movable gray wall. Quill immediately slid beside the locking mechanism and began the task of trying to get the massive door open.
Soon enough, the other squads came over to join those already at the gates. Garrus and Tali stood beside a group of the Omen's Marines as Gamora and Chewbacca led a group of redshirts. Valhallan troopers followed Chekov and Saul, and a group of Apocalypse armsmen showed up beside the rest of the Normandy and Milano's crew led by a variety of mixed officers.
"Here, let me," offered Tali as she arrived, activating her omni-tool with a motion, stepping beside Quill. The gate opened noiselessly, and the allies poured into the vehicle depot proper.
"Sitrep?" asked Drake to the newly arrived groups, taking in everything at once.
"We outpaced most of the guards but they should be here any minute," replied Captain Detoi, stepping forward in his gray-blue uniform.
"Same with us," added Gamora even as gunfire erupted amongst the allied rearguard.
"Right," said Drake crisply. "I guess that's the general situation. Let's get ready to move out! We leave when Cooper and the Chief get here!"
Even as he was speaking, the others were clambering aboard a variety of heavy military transports. They looked something like large transport trucks, if those trucks had been planned by a tank designer with an unhealthy obsession with cubism. Still, they were heavy, armored and had both weapons and a large transport capacity, so looks didn't matter.
Cain was busy directing men into the transports while others inspected their workings to see if they would start without issue. As the equipment-laden soldiers climbed into the backs, a few of the commanders wandered towards the front.
"I call dibs on driving this one!" cried Shepard with unholy glee. Garrus and Tali both visibly blanched at that. Vir and Quill, who were about to clamber into that same transport's troop hold, peered over to see what the commotion was.
"Uh, Shepard, I think…"
"Time to go!" roared Drake as Cooper and the Chief suddenly broke into the depot at a dead sprint, a hail of gunfire chasing after them.
"Jurgen, up front! I'll take the cupula gun!" barked Cain as he clambered up the side of another transport and into the top machine gun nest. Kirk and Spock slid into the front of a third transport as Solo hopped into the fourth, Cooper and the larger Master Chief diving into its back.
oOo
"Okay, so, here we are!" grinned Shepard, flexing her hands as she looked over the transport's driver seat interior. She shot a wicked grin towards the hold. "Does everyone have their seat belts buckled?"
"Shut up and drive!" came Drake's reply. In the back, Garrus turned towards the others, eyes wide with apprehension.
"Are you sure one of you guys doesn't want to go up there and drive instead?" Vir, sitting beside him, looked at him suspiciously.
"Why?" he asked. "Are you saying that-" He didn't finish his sentence. With a lurch that nearly threw any unbelted passengers from their seats, the transport started moving.
"Alright, we are moving!" announced Shepard. "Please stay in your seats, keep your trays in the upright and locked position, and watch out for stray bullets." Those in the back winced as the transport ran into and/or over something with a cacophonous, screeching crunch.
"When you said one of us should drive…" began Drake.
"Shepard's driving is… uh… well, unique would probably be the best word for it," muttered Garrus as he braced himself.
"Hey, I prefer inspired," shouted back Shepard from the front. Those in the back blanched and glanced at each other nervously as they swerved dangerously around the corner exiting the base.
oOo
Cain's transport thrummed forward, Jurgen's driving skills as insane and powerful as ever. While the Commissar didn't exactly like his loyal aide behind the wheel, he couldn't deny that Jurgen was uniquely gifted in the art of dangerous driving. You name it, Jurgen had gotten them out of it: being late for meetings, Orks, snowstorms, Tyranids, artillery strikes, greater daemons, zombie apocalypses… if it existed, Jurgen's skill at the wheel could subvert it. That was why, of course, Cain had chosen him to drive. However, it wasn't comfortable, per say, to be riding in the same vehicle as him.
Of course, unlike those poor sods sitting in the back of the transport, Cain was intimately familiar with Jurgen's rather unique style of driving.
The machine gun cupula was his preferred position on a moving military vehicle, both because he didn't want to be rattling around like a pebble in the hold and because he preferred to shoot back at whatever might be shooting at him. Yes, it was more exposed, but it was both where the legendary Commissar Ciaphas Cain, Hero of the Imperium was supposed to be and because Cain preferred to be doing something over waiting to get eaten or blown up.
There was a yell from the back as they continued to accelerate, seemingly without letup. Cain ignored it. Behind him, many of the base's guards were jumping into vehicles of their own. He frowned and racked the heavy gun's slide before laying down a curtain of fire at anyone exposed and moving.
A few of the guards fell and a vehicle went up in flames before Cain's transport turned into the street leading away from the base. Cain gave a grim smile as he heard the shouts of surprise from the hold at the extraordinary tight and fast turn.
They would get to the exfiltration area. Maybe with a few bumps and bruises, but they would get there.
oOo
Kirk looked over the vehicle controls curiously. Beside him, Spock glanced towards his commander.
"Sir, if we're going to leave we might want to do it now," stated the half-Vulcan. Shepard pulled out, followed swiftly by Jurgen as more enemy guards poured into the area.
"Just a moment," replied Kirk cheerfully, hands moving like ghosts over the controls. "I have to see how this all works." Kirk didn't see it, but Spock's eyes actually widened a fraction.
"Sir," remarked Spock in an urgent and exasperated tone of voice. A few guards kneeled and began firing. Solo's transport took off.
"Ah! Here we go," remarked Kirk in the same cheerful tone of voice. He pulled a lever and pushed his foot down on the pedal… and the transport promptly lurched backwards, crushing a staff car parked behind them. Startled cries arose from the back.
"This is not going to end well," remarked Spock matter-of-factly.
"Phhht, please," said Kirk with a wave. "It'll be fine." He pulled another lever and the transport lurched once more, thankfully forward this time. Spock raised an eyebrow at his captain and tightened his seatbelt.
oOo
"So, how are you guys doing back there?" asked Shepard far, far too cheerfully for the situation.
"Turians usually only can vomit to feed their young, but I think I'm pretty close," moaned Garrus as the transport swung around a turn in a manner it was very much not designed for.
"Aw, c'mon, my driving isn't that bad!" said Shepard in reply.
They were within the city now, and thankfully most of the streets were clear of traffic. Why or how, Shepard did not know, but she was thankful nevertheless. Maybe some sort of law or ordinance? Either way, it was only a few cars that swiftly got out of the way for a massive military transport and a group of its pursuers.
She winced as some sort of armored car shot from a sidestreet and rammed into the transport, almost causing her to lose control in the process. The transport swerved into a parked car, smashing it aside as Shepard fought the steering.
"What was that?" asked Garrus, panicked, from the back.
"It's fine!" yelled back Shepard. Honestly, what was his problem? She didn't get why he was being so fussy.
"It didn't seem fine!" shouted Quill. Shepard rolled her eyes as she continued barreling down the road, control regained.
"Some guy came out of my blindspot and rammed us, but I have it under control," she replied.
"Check your blindspots, then!" yelled Vir, probably trying to be helpful.
"Blindspots are for other drivers!" announced Shepard triumphantly. She smashed through a wall of police cars designed to slow her down. They crumpled like paper.
"Quill, if I die, I want you to have my armor," said Drake from the back. "And Vir, you can have my books, and Garrus, you can take my sidearm if you can actually use it with two fingers, and-"
"Oh, quit being so melodramatic!" yelled Shepard. She rolled her eyes. This was just as hairbrained as anything they did. She was a good driver; she was getting them out of here, wasn't she? Backseat drivers, the lot of them. As she continued, she suddenly got a bright idea. "Hey, you guys have any music to play? I know you guys enjoy it. This thing probably has some sort of sound system." There. That ought to keep them distracted. She had a sudden image of driving her own kids (not being chased by the military, of course), trying to distract them, Garrus sitting beside her and laughing silently as he smiled-
Stop. No. Not there. Not on a mission.
There was some muffled shuffling around and muttering from the back, but at least they were quiet for the moment. Shepard continued through the streets relatively unhassled besides the group chasing her. At least they weren't shooting - they had enough brains to realize small-arms fire on an armored transport wasn't going to do anything, especially not while trying to aim at the speeds they were going.
From the back, Quill gave a triumphant ah-ha! There was more moving and shuffling, followed by a muffled "okay, what should we play?"
"I have the perfect idea," came Drake's voice, loud and clear, filled with vindictive glee. Shepard glanced back, wary at the tone. However, before she could do anything, the transport's interior and exterior sound systems booted up with a cheerful tone. Shepard glanced around, surprised. She hadn't actually known either of those existed.
"Where'd you learn how to steer? You'd do eighty in second gear. When you drive, I can't relax. Got your license from Cracker Jacks. You just hit another tree. These fender benders are killin' me." Shepard whirled around.
"What? Guys!" There was some snickering and bursts of singing from behind her. "Guys! C'mon!"
"She drives like crazy! Like no one else! She drives like crazy, and I'm afraid for myself." The chorus was added to by the full contingent of troopers singing along.
"Guys!"
oOo
Tali'Zorah vas Neema had been in many risky, death-defying situations before. There were some issues with various vessels she'd been on in the Migrant Fleet when she grew up, some plagues, her Pilgrimage to the Citadel that resulted in her almost being offed by the Shadow Broker, many missions to hostile worlds with Shepard, the Battle of the Citadel, fighting Geth on Haestrom, and all the missions with the new Normandy since. However, she never particularly cared about any of them.
Oh, yes, they were dangerous: she knew that as a fact. But she liked the danger. She lived for the danger.
She wasn't much like a lot of Quarians in that regard. Tali was always someone who loved adventure and danger. Maybe that was why she felt so much at home on the Normandy.
However, what she did fear (aside from spiders and the existential dread of her friends dying) was Commander Jane Shepard's driving.
She'd been on far too many missions on the hunt for Saren where Shepard had driven their old Mako transport. Most of those memories were vague blurs of fear surrounded by lasting tactile memories of bruises.
Shepard used to blame the Mako for its clunky handling, but those in the back blamed the driver. Therefore, when Shepard gleefully claimed the driver's seat of one of the transports, Tali immediately got on a different one.
Unfortunately for both her and everyone else aboard this transport, Jurgen wasn't much better of a driver. Tali winced as she was bounced into the redshirt sitting behind her. Jurgen took another sharp turn, jostling her the other way. Honestly, at this point she was a little nervous her mask might get cracked.
From above, she could hear the repetitive beat of the turret machine gun blasting away. Cain had instructed Jurgen to drive: Tali wasn't really sure what to think of that. Of course, any deeper thoughts on the issue would have to wait, because right now, the only feeling she had at Cain's decision and Jurgen's driving was annoyed. And maybe a little bit upset.
They ran over something with a horrible, grinding crash that nearly threw everyone in the back from their seats. Swears filled the hold. Tali grunted. Okay, maybe a lot upset.
"Sorry," muttered the man sitting next to her as another hair-brained maneuver threw everything in the hold into chaos once more.
"No problem," replied Tali, mostly trying to focus on maintaining her precarious position. Even the seatbelts seemed to only be nominally helping. She only hoped that she didn't crack her mask or tear part of her enviro-suit while being bounced around.
Note to self: Jurgen was just as bad, if not worse, than Shepard. Do not drive with either of them behind the wheel.
oOo
Kirk, decided Spock, drove with all the sublime and expert grace of an elephant with arthritis on roller skates. Honestly, they probably would have gotten the same results if a large marsupial were at the wheel instead of the human captain.
The half-Vulcan winced as they slid around a turn, the transport not so much turning as drifting. Of course, it proceeded to drift right into a parked car, smashing with an almighty crunch of rending metal. Spock winced as he was jostled around. Cries sounded from the transport's hold.
"Oops," said Kirk cheerfully. Spock raised an eyebrow. Behind them, three pursuing vehicles, shocked by their sudden and poorly-executed turn, either flew past them or imitated them, smashing into the same line of cars One armored car, noted Spock absently, actually lost control and ran headlong into a nearby office building. "Sorry about that guys," apologized Kirk in a tone more suited for being a few minutes late to a meeting rather than crashing a multi-ton military transport.
Spock merely raised another eyebrow. Humans.
The transport barreled forward, and Spock held on to whatever he thought was most secure. Kirk had what Spock heard the humans refer to as a 'lead foot'. They just kept moving, without slowing down.
"Red light," noted Spock. He was far more versed in commanding a spaceship and the various intricacies therein, but he did know that on human planets, a red sign or light meant ground traffic was supposed to stop.
Kirk, despite being a human himself and growing up in a rural area where he should have known this, did not, in fact, appear to know this.
"Red light," repeated Spock.
Kirk kept moving forward at a breakneck pace.
"Captain," said Spock, exasperated, as they breezed through the intersection, nearly crushing a few unfortunate pedestrians.
"Red lights are more of a suggestion than an actual rule," replied Kirk nonchalantly. Spock raised another eyebrow. He was dangerously close to losing control of his emotions and giving his captain an actual eye roll.
"Where did you get your license?" demanded Spock. "Whoever was in charge of handing them out that day was not in their right mind."
"License?" asked Kirk, turning towards Spock in confusion. Spock groaned aloud.
oOo
"She drives like crazy! Like no one else! She drives like crazy, and I'm afraid for myself!" The troops in the back, to Shepard's great annoyance, were whooping with laughter and joy as they sang along. Blessedly, that seemed to be the last verse, and the song ended with the troopers whooping in joy.
"Well, what's next?" asked Vir from the hold.
"Please, don't tell me you have another 'bad driver' song," groaned Shepard in their general direction.
"Shepard does have a point," replied Drake mildly. "See we played one song against her, so maybe now we do something else."
"Thank you!" cried Shepard.
"I don't know," muttered Garrus. She could feel his eye roll from the front. "Not sure we want to reward this type of behavior."
"Oh, come on, Garrus, get over it! It's not that bad," replied Shepard.
"Yes, it is." She barely caught the low reply and the snickers following it.
"Okay, okay, next song," interrupted Drake. "'Cause if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." The music began playing. Shepard grinned. She knew this song.
"Commander, how far are we to the rendezvous point?" asked one of the troopers, speaking up.
"We're nearly there," replied Shepard, pressing her foot down harder on the accelerator. In front of her, she could see the edge of the city, and the wide open fields beyond. According to the scanners in the vehicle and what little of their chaos she could glimpse through the windshield, the other transports were nearby and making their way to the same area.
Bursting through another alley, Shepard screeched along a hairpin turn to the startled cries of those in the back. Ahead of her, there was a military checkpoint leading out of the city. It seemed as if the guards were busy raising some concrete barrier. Shepard frowned. She wasn't sure even the heavy transport could crash through that.
Looking around for another alternative, she noticed a ramp leading its way beside and above the checkpoint. She grinned.
"Er… Shepard…" Apparently Quill had managed to get a glimpse out the front window. "Are you sure about that?"
"It's fine!" she replied cheerfully. "Don't you guys trust me?"
"What's she doing?" asked Garrus desperately.
"There's a ramp…" trailed off Quill, needing to say nothing else. Garrus balked.
"Shepard, surely you can't be serious?" he demanded, terror leaking into his voice.
Commander Jane Shepard turned around in her seat and met him eye-to-eye with the most utterly gleeful, maniacal grin Garrus Vakarian had ever seen on a human being.
"Oh, I am serious. And don't call me Shirley!"
oOo
Corporal Richard Marian of the Tyran Defense Force watched, slack-jawed, as a thirty ton military transport, blaring the famous Free Bird guitar solo from its exterior speakers, hit the ramp beside his checkpoint and caught air, sailing above his guard post and out into the fields beyond the city.
He was not paid enough for this.
oOo
Kirk looked over to Spock with a smug smirk. They had arrived beyond the limits of the city, pulling up beside Shepard, Jurgen, and Solo. The incoming shuttles and gunships of the fleet had thoroughly wrecked any pursuers, and anyone else who wanted to stop them wouldn't be here before they were back in orbit.
"Pretty good driving, right?" asked Kirk to his second-in-command. They'd gotten there with little issue and in one piece, after all.
"No," replied Spock, perfectly matter-of-fact, as always.
"Who asked you, anyway?" grumbled Kirk as he undid his seatbelt and stepped outside.
Troopers from the other transports, parked beside them, were already disembarking. Kirk noted, interestingly enough, that those who were riding with Solo were jumping out orderly and were quickly ready to go. The others, though…
"Ah, dirt!" cried Chekov as he nearly fell from the back of Cain and Jurgen's transport. "Real, live, safe, wonderful, unmoving dirt! Never have you looked more beautiful than at this moment!" Tali'Zorah, despite her face being hidden behind a violet mask, somehow still endeavored to look pale as she shakily stepped beside Chekov, quickly followed by other troops, their facial tints alternating between snowy white and pale green.
Quill stepped out of the next transport and nearly fell on his face. Drake was next, followed by Garrus, both on shaky feet. Vir followed, looking slightly better than his comrades.
"I could make so many 'women are bad drivers' jokes right now, but I'm still afraid for my life and it doesn't seem like Jurgen or Kirk did any better," muttered Drake, stretching. Quill sputtered a laugh at that, the motion causing his legs to collapse beneath him.
"Well, we got here guys, and in one piece!" Shepard sounded far too pleased for herself as she got out of the cabin and walked towards the disembarkation area. Those huddled near the rear of the transport simply stared at her.
"Next time, I am driving," stated Vir. Shepard merely shrugged.
"I believe we should return to orbit before there are any untimely interruptions," noted Cain as he walked towards the other commanders, Jurgen in tow, looking no worse for wear.
"That's probably a good idea," replied Kirk, joining them.
"But this time, we're letting the trained shuttle pilots fly," harrumphed Drake.
oOo
Back in orbit, the commanders gathered to discuss their latest mission and plans going forward.
"I think it went well enough, though I do think that, firstly, we ought to have a better in and out for these missions, and secondly, if we're being driven or flown anywhere, we should be driven and flown by professionals," inputted Vir. Shepard rolled her eyes. Cooper grinned.
"Well, I thought Captain Solo was quite professional," he replied. Those that had ridden with the others glared at Cooper. Solo smirked.
He had been by far the best driver due to his piloting skills. Apparently Kirk had little to no idea what he was doing, Jurgen had decided the term 'defensive driving' should be replaced with 'offensive driving', and there was a very good reason Shepard's crew feared getting into a vehicle with her.
"Okay, okay, we all know what could've gone better that last time, and we'll fix it if we can on the next mission," said Cooper. He looked around. "The biggest thing though is what we're going to do next."
"I agree," concurred Kirk. There was a slight pause, no one knowing what they should do, before Vir spoke up.
"Cain, none of us have actually been to your galaxy," he noted. The Commissar stared at him, surprised, before his face went carefully blank. "I think it would be good for us to visit at some point. You know, get to know things. I think it'll certainly help clear up some things," he finished encouragingly. In reply, Cain's face fell into a controlled frown.
"I… don't think that's a good idea," he said carefully, choosing every word with precision like a connoisseur selecting a fine wine.
"Well, why not?" asked Kirk, genuinely curious. "You or your men have gotten to see our galaxies, and I think it actually would be a good idea to just… you know, go to them to truly understand where each of us comes from." The others nodded (save the Chief, of course, who was as statuesque as ever).
"The fact is that, as you know, the Imperium takes a… dim view of xenos," replied Cain, still choosing his words carefully. "If we were to visit my home galaxy, not only could there be a myriad of other complications, but only humans could be seen. Any alien crew would have to remain aboard the ships."
There were frowns at that, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. Still, it rankled.
"And why not?" asked Vir. "It seems that you guys are able to get along well enough." Cain's frown deepened.
"I'm not entirely sure you realize how lucky you are that we were the first ones to see you. We are the Guard, and have less of a zeal for things and more of a loyalty to orders. And our orders were to find out what was going on and report back any information, which means we couldn't kill you. If there were some other Imperial groups here, like, for instance, the Black Templars or some Sororitas, you'd already be dead. So if you want to visit my galaxy, which, by the way, I do not recommend, the aliens would have to stay in the ships." Not to mention if xenos were found by some who weren't working for Inquisitor Vail, Cain, the 597th, and all of the human crewmen would be executed for harboring and working with xenos.
"Okay, okay, I think I understand," said Cooper placatingly, attempting to stop an argument between Cain and the more pro-alien commanders. "Still, I think it would be interesting to visit; at least we'd get to see something." Cain suppressed a sigh.
"What exactly would we see?" he asked. "We couldn't go to Holy Terra, the Mechanicus wouldn't allow us on forge worlds, Ultramar and other Marine homeworlds are out, we are not going to Cadia or anywhere near the Eye of Terror, and Valhalla is not exactly somewhere anyone wants to visit."
"We'll figure something out," said Kirk confidently.
"In the meantime, I think we should take a bit of a break," commented Drake. "Some shore leave would do the men a lot of good, both for the 'getting to know each other' issue and just in general." The others nodded in reply.
"Okay then," replied Cain with a nod, "Shore leave. But where exactly are we going to have it?" Everyone turned to stare at Drake, who merely grinned back up at them in reply.
"There's a place I know. Edge of my galaxy, used to spacers and soldiers coming, enough entertainment with enough anonymity. Perfect place," he assured them. The others glanced at each other and eventually nodded in agreement. Sounded good.
There was a brief moment where everyone simply stood, satisfied, unsure of what to say.
"Well, I guess that's that, then," noted Shepard with a nod.
"Funny how this all works out," said Vir, looking around.
"What do you mean?" replied Cooper.
"I mean, well, look at us," replied the Admiral, gesturing around at everyone. "From all sorts of backgrounds, all sorts of different types of people, from literally different realities and we're working together." There were a few more nods at this, followed by careful looks at the others.
"In a way we're not all that different," said Kirk optimistically. Cooper snorted.
"Two overly-optimistic military explorers, one political officer, one genetically enhanced super-soldier, a few regular soldiers, a smuggler, some mercenaries… I think we're a bit more different than you think," he noted. "Look around. We've got everyone from Mr. 'I have twelve percent of a plan' Quill to Captain 'my contingency plans have contingency plans' Drake. Seriously, Drake," he said, looking at the man in question, "Are you sure you're not some sort of super villain?" There was a round of laughs at that.
"You do have a point," agreed Cain, speaking up. "Perhaps it's better if we got to know each other better."
"That's a pretty good idea, Commissar," replied Drake. He looked around the room. "So. What exactly do you guys enjoy doing?" There was a brief pause at the slightly awkward icebreaker-type question.
"What do you like doing?" shot back Cooper with a grin on his face.
"Oh, you know. The usual. Dramatically staring into a picture window looking upon a rain-swept tempest, holding a glass of brandy while practicing my evil monologues as Lacrimosa by Mozart plays," deadpanned Drake. He got a round of chuckles out of that. "I suppose my work is my hobby. I do enjoy what I do for a living, after all." He turned to the Normandy's commander. "What about you, Shepard?"
"Well, there was a fish tank put in my cabin, so I've been trying my hand at keeping fish as a hobby," said Shepard with a shrug. "It's actually quite interesting, figuring out how to keep them all alive, what to put in the tank, learning about the different fish and which ones can go with which…" It also stopped her from going absolutely insane whenever she was alone in her cabin, which was a plus.
"I'm not so sure about that as a hobby," said Vir with a frown. Shepard glanced at him, a bit nervous and upset.
"Why not?" she demanded.
"It just seems a bit… fishy," replied Vir, unable to keep a massive grin from cracking on his face. Shepard punched him in the shoulder. The others, save the Chief and Cain, cracked up. (The Commissar was at least smiling, so that was something.)
They continued after that, simply speaking at ease, getting to know each other. It was remarkably… normal. For once, they relaxed, enjoying the presence of people who perhaps they didn't know as well as they would have liked, unthreatened and harassed, with the promise of shore leave to look forward to. All in all, it was a good day, despite the rather literally bumpy start.
oOo
Solo's Galaxy
Belsavis
Imperial Outpost Planet
The New Republic had, in its infinite wisdom, sent a team of commandos to capture a small Imperial outpost planet in the middle of smack-dab nowhere. Sargent Underwilth was quite displeased by this, as had the entirety of the rest of her commando group, from Private Nikeer all the way up to the Captain. It would be a long, boring, and completely useless mission, and for what purpose? Grab a completely insignificant Imperial fort that could house a battalion and a group of shuttles at the absolute maximum? Why? Send soldiers to die for that? She hated High Command for it. Hate-d. Past tense. At the present moment, she was cursing the name of every single New Republic official she could remember, from the major who had briefed them to Princess Leia herself. Saying things had gotten a bit out of hand would be the understatement of the millenia.
"I need fire at 1-2-7-4! Immediate effect, whatever you've got!" screamed the comms chatter. The Imperial stormtroopers crouched next to her looked warily in the direction of the lieutenant whose scream was cut short over the comms. Captain Pai, the commando leader, was dead. Major Vekk, commander of the Imperial garrison, was now in charge of both the stormtrooper and commando contingent. Underwilth had never thought she would be fighting side by side with stormtroopers. They were terrible shots and propaganda-fueled idiots, holding on to the crumbling remnants of a tyrant.
Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures. She nodded at her mixed group of Republic and Imperial soldiery, and, as one, they stepped over the ledge of the wall they were crouched behind. A withering storm of blaster bolts rent the air, many going wide as their users panicked. It was enough though.
The bolts slammed into the metal abomination, many ricocheting harmlessly off its bones with high pitched pings! Underwilth had no idea what these things were, or why they were here. The commando team had landed, everything going well, and had infiltrated the fortress, only for an army of metal skeletons to show up. They were spindly and humanoid in appearance, with elongated skulls and arms much thinner than a human. Their odd appearance didn't matter, though. Horrible weapons had rotated, spitting sickly green beams of light at the now combined defenders. Everything that was touched by those beams died. Captain Pai had been disintegrated where he stood, atomized without a sound.
The defenders had fought back with everything in their arsenal. Blasters didn't work. Grenades didn't work. Cryo bombs didn't work. Only massive, coordinated firepower would stop these undying invaders.
Scorch marks appeared on the metal skeleton that Underwilth's group drowned in fire. More and more blaster bolts found their mark, staggering it. Underwilth screamed at them to keep firing. Eventually, slowly, it toppled into the dirt. Underwilth's group let out a great cheer. It died in their throats when they saw what was happening. The metal abomination, light faded from its eyes and limbs blown off, glowed with the same sickly green light as its eyes and weapons. Limbs reattached themselves. Blaster pockmarks faded. Internal wiring affixed itself. It stood, and glowing green eyes snapped on once more.
oOo
Beneath the Surface of Belsavis
Trazyn the Infinite, Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty, Archoevist of Solomance, and Curator of the Prismatic Galleries walked through the underground tomb complex covered by the Imperial outpost. He had come to... acquire the artifacts, weapons, and species in the tomb underneath. Unfortunately, a group of the idiotic humans that inhabited this galaxy had decided to build a fortress right on top of it. He didn't even spend the processing power wondering about the humans. Mere insects. His soldiers were there to defend his archaeological expedition, and if the humans wanted to attack them, well, that was their problem.
Trazyn was, quite frankly, disappointed over this particular galaxy. It wasn't that there weren't ancient and important treasures to plunder: no, far from it. The things he could find here almost rivaled his own galaxy. Almost. It wasn't that.
It was that the people of this place had absolutely zero appreciation for history. It was utterly infuriating. Trazyn was the historian. The lives of entire species meant nothing to him. He was as old as the stars themselves, able to see eons as they stretched out in front of him. The reason he did any of this in the first place was to preserve history before time or battle erased it. His entire planet was one massive museum, with exhibits stretching back some 60 billion years before the planet Earth even existed. But these people? They didn't teach history. Didn't preserve history.
The inhabitants of this place had merely forgotten the Old Republic, the government that ruled the galaxy only thirty years ago. The Jedi Knights were myths. The Clone Wars were bedtime legends. Trazyn ground his metal teeth in frustration. Thirty years. That was a microsecond. That was about the time a standard Necron court case lasted. Even the humans, short-lived insects that they were, should remember that long. After all, they usually lived between sixty to a hundred, did they not? Simply no respect for the past here.
Ah, but he was getting off track. Despite the idiots of this place not knowing what it was, this place was magnificent. The architecture, the stone, the inscriptions and technology… oh, yes. If Trazyn had still possessed a mortal body, he would be grinning like a buffoon now. He wanted everything.
The tomb had once belonged to the Rakata Infinite Empire. He sneered at the name.
"There can only be one Infinite, and only one Infinite Empire. And you, my friends, are no longer among the living," he told a statue. The Empire had, at its apex, controlled a great deal of the galaxy and possessed technologies and ancient wonders not seen since. An entire species, called the Esh-Ka, had been trapped here in stasis for nigh thirty millenia by the ancient Rakata. Nothing compared to Trazyn, but he appreciated the gesture of the long dead civilization nonetheless. Ancient Rakata warlords, soldiers, status, glyphs, tablets, weapons, enemies, technology… everything. This was a prison world, and the Rakata built it to last. Now, though… now it was Trazyn's time to shine.
He took everything he could, the walls and massive scripts cut away by his personal bodyguard. Everything went into tesseract labyrinths. These were small black cubes, about the size of Trazyn's fist. They pulsed with darkness, ever wishing to suck things into their voids. These cubes were gateways to pocket dimensions, and Trazyn had long used them to capture specimens for his museum.
He hummed as he worked, nearly giddy with excitement. If there had been any watchers, they would have found the sight of the ancient necron lord almost dancing with exhilaration to be quite funny. As he loaded the last of the Rakata imprisoned within the tomb, there was a flash of green light behind him. Its coloration was similar to the eyes and weaponry of the necrons, yet only the discharge of his bodyguards' gauss flayers could have made such a sight, and Trazyn knew for a fact none of them had. He whirled around, only to be met with a very strange sight.
Four individuals stood between him and his guards. One was obviously a synthetic, tall and spindly with red and grey limbs. This one glowered menacingly at Trazyn, but he laughed it off. You didn't know a good glower until you've stood on the wrong side of a Star God. The second was human, smirking from behind shoulder length black hair and a black and green tunic. The third was masked, armored, and coated, and stood at simple attention, unbothered by the necrons that lowered their gauss flayers at its back. The last, though…
"Lord Cypher," said Trazyn with a bow. The massive man in the white robe noticeably stiffened. "A pleasure to have you here. Ah, yes. I know who you are, of course. Don't be surprised. You would make a fine addition to my collection," he mused. Trazyn looked up, noticeably more perky. "Is that why you're here? Have you come to give yourself up? Ready to be a part of history?" The massive man, Cypher, glared at him.
"We have need of your help, Lord Trazyn. After you are…" he looked around, noticing the completely empty walls of the tomb, "Done here, we wish to speak with you. Your… expertise is necessary." Trazyn grinned, the necrodermis teeth of his death mask coming together. A necron grinning was a very bizarre sight.
"Ah, you flatter me, Lord Cypher. And from one who has bedeviled the Imperium for ten thousand years and fought the Deceiver himself, such flattery is most appreciated. However," Trazyn gestured around, "As you can see, my work consumes me. I'm afraid history stops for no one. Except you." He held out a tesseract labyrinth, his voice flowing with mischief.
"Wait!" replied Cypher. "We have need of your help," he repeated. "If you do not join us, then events will transpire that will result in the eventual destruction of reality," he stated calmly, as if he were simply talking about the weather. "It might not happen now, or later, or even in a century, or millenia, but I know for certain it will happen. Everything you hold dear, everything you have worked so hard for over these billions of years, will be gone. If you help us, we will most likely succeed, and in payment we will offer to you the greatest treasures in the universe." Cypher held out a hand. "So what say you, Trazyn the Infinite? Are you ready to change history for once, instead of just cataloging it?" Trazyn pondered a moment, his neural circuitries firing faster than any mortal could keep up.
Eventually, he took the hand.
"I accept."
oOo
For the curious, the song played when Shepard is driving is Drives Like Crazy by Weird Al Yankovic.
Trazyn is here (again)! And, of course, in a typical Trazyn fashion, up to shenanigans. Let me tell you, Trazyn and Loki together is a terrifying prospect.
I hope you enjoyed the story, and, as usual, I love any comments, criticisms, questions, concerns, and reviews you have!