30 – Countdown
He remembered a brilliant fireball, white at the core, red around the middle and a vibrant blue belting outward. He remembered the spires collapsing in on themselves, the circular ring shattering apart, and chunks of debris being violently splattered over the cosmos, each dragging stellar dust and aurora-like flames like the tails of a thousand comets. The Siren-turned-supernova was a sight to behold, but he also remembered the blackness of space being turned to blindness. As he clung onto his colleagues, something had hit him, not with enough force to harm…but enough to disrupt. He remembered a shortness of breath.
"I…I think he's coming around!" chirped a foggy voice. Gorman steadily made out more and more words, as if he was pushing upwards through the sea and to the surface. Where had he felt this feeling before? His next thought was that somehow, through (another) mind-bendingly irrational event, he had gone back in time to the aftermath of Mavigon. Was he on the Antwerp?
The theory was dispelled by the number of voices which filled up the room. There was chatter, then a cacophony of people arriving close by. Gorman had to take a look for himself. He sat up, felt the aches, and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a woman leaning over his bedsheets with a teal cowl and an opaque visor covering her face. He croaked out words of his own.
"We've really got to stop meeting like this, Sally."
The quarian retreated, allowing his recovering sight to see an audience of familiar faces – some of them smiling, most of them blue. Even the famous Don Bodewell was in attendance.
"Knew it would take more than that to keep you down!" one tall figure in a green jumpsuit gave came forward and gave Gorman's shoulder a hit.
"Careful!" one of the blue figures in a lab-coat quickly rushed to scan the shoulder, and the rest of the Commander, with the orange beam of an omni-tool. "Vitals look stable. Any shortness of breath? Nausea? Headache?"
"Good to see you too, Dr. Miura," Gorman recognized, "I'm a bit dizzy, but then again my sleep schedule's gone to hell recently." Then he looked across the crowd he'd gathered in the crew quarters. He was doing some counting. "How many?" he asked.
"How many…" Dr. Miura was confused, having moved to take a closer scan of his chest. Overall he was feeling great, but there was a lingering, dull pain as he took gentle breaths.
"How many did we save?"
"Ten in total. Not including your crew."
"And how many were there to begin with?"
"The Siren of Lusia had a crew of twenty."
The smile on Gorman's face faded.
"I'm sorry," he addressed not only Miura, but the assembled scientists. "We should have saved more. If we had just been quicker, gotten onboard sooner…"
"Commander…" Emerging from the crew were two other asari – T'Lore and Tara. All eyes turned to them. The eminent scientist continued speaking. "The fact that any of us survived at all is a miracle. A miracle we can thank you for. While we mourn the losses, do not mistake our survival for failure."
Gorman didn't believe her at face value – but the wounds were too fresh.
"Please, everyone," Tara gestured to the others assembled, "If you'll excuse us, we must have a private word with the Commander."
The crowd dispersed. Three stayed – Tara, the still deep in examination Dr. Miura, and T'Lore. Gorman looked up from his bed at them. He was starting to notice something. A resemblance.
"My daughter speaks highly of you," Tara instantly confirmed the Commander's sudden suspicion. He was shocked, not just because of the parental reveal but because the asari on his crew had something positive to say about him after their pre-Siren argument. He gasped, although this was in part due to Dr. Miura quietly telling him to take deep breaths as she scanned his lungs. "She described you as restless, driven, decisive," Tara continued. T'Lore's dazzling eyes twinkled with acknowledgement. "You've not only survived, but thrived from uncertainty. Exactly the type of person we need if what you've shown my daughter is true."
"The visions," Gorman put the puzzle pieces together, "Look, I'm sorry for sharing them with her in the first place. The things that beacon made me see…"
"I know. She showed them to me."
Gorman's puzzle-solving skills had overlooked that particular asari ability.
"Then you know why we needed your help," he asserted, "You know that the beacon tried to warn me, warn us, about something bad coming."
"Those visions were very distressing, very visceral. They were unlike anything I had ever seen…at first." Tara placed her hands behind her back, adopting a somber expression. "However, I…recognized…certain aspects. Flashes that reminded me of my own work. Commander, I have reason to believe that the boundless death we all saw…was the extinction of the protheans."
Gorman was concentrating hard on taking in anything she had to say, a challenge given he slipped back into consciousness only a few minutes prior and was currently in the middle of a respiratory exam. Despite all the distractions, he could feel how grave this revelation was. A life's work was at stake for the scientist.
"Remind me; what is your 'work' exactly?" Gorman tried to get her frame of reference.
"The Siren of Lusia is – was – a xenoarchaeology expedition. We were being sent around Alliance borders to investigate an uncharted world with potential prothean infrastructure. We take our work seriously, Commander. I have devoted the last two hundred years to mapping ruins and excavating dig-sites. I know prothean influence when I see it. I saw it in your vision."
"This world you were going to, was it Feros?" Gorman guessed – and hoped it wasn't given how his last visit went. Wherever it was, it could be the crucial key to figuring out the mysteries of the beacon once and for all.
"Regrettably, Commander, I do not know. I had only coordinates from a relic…which we were unable to recover from the Siren before its destruction." A great sadness washed over the xenoarchaeologist, and her daughter. A find like that might be a once in two centuries event. Gorman's dream was also dashed as suddenly as it arrived. He returned to the bigger picture.
"I once attended a lecture by a famous xenoarcheologist, Professor Saari. He said nobody knows why the protheans went extinct. You're saying you think…the machines in the vision did it?"
"Firstly, Ahti Saari is neither famous, nor a professor, nor a xenoarcheologist. His self-inflicted removal from humanity's Cline Institute was nothing short of a disgrace." Tara composed herself, then answered the question. "Secondly, yes. We knew the prothean reign of the galaxy ended abruptly, abrupt enough to indicate a violent collapse. This vision only confirms such suspicions, but worse than that, it seems to imply that whatever mechanical force annihilated them is soon to return. We may have years. We may have days."
Silence lingered.
Gorman knew this inconvenient truth for some time now, but to hear it from a figure of authority – and in a true rarity, a figure even older than he was – was enough to make him shiver.
"Cough please," Dr. Miura asked. Gorman coughed, and tried to get some answers that wouldn't induce as much dread.
"The recording we extracted from the geth – have you heard it?"
"I have. The fact that rogue machines have taken an interest in prothean relics, and are colluding with other species is…disquieting, to say the least. I also sense a connection between the extinction from the vision and the 'reapers' from the recording, but that is simply a hunch. As for delivery, unfortunately, I am not sure I will be able to -"
"Mother, Councilor Tevos needs to hear it!" burst T'Lore, clasping her hands in a pleading motion. "As do the turian and salarian Councilors! There is a connection between the geth attacks, a turian and an asari. We can't just ignore it!"
Gorman's brows were raised. He'd never seen her so animated before. The mother sighed.
"We cannot ignore it, true, but I am afraid the Councilor might. I also recognize one of the voices on the recording. Matriarch Benezia."
The pause after this next bombshell gave enough time for T'Lore to reel in surprise, even Dr. Miura stopped to let it sink in. Gorman was even more confused than before. Tara noticed, and explained further.
"Commander, the Matriarch is a well-respected figure with many connections within our governments, not to mention our Council delegation. The fact that she is implicated in a conspiracy involving the geth…may not be a fact the Council are willing to accept."
Before T'Lore could beg, Gorman took the words out of her mouth.
"Tara, we've come too far to give up," he began. T'Lore nodded intently. "You're our best and only option right now. All we ask is that the recording reaches the Council one way or another. Can you do that?"
Tara considered, then relented.
"I can make no promises that it will be received well, but I will do what I can."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" T'Lore quickly pulled her into a hug. Tara's expression betrayed the mood. There was more.
"If the threat between the geth and the visions is as severe as I fear, it may not be enough," Tara admitted. "Commander, I strongly advise that you seek out the destination mentioned in the recording…this 'Virmire'. It could be some time before the Council sends its own response, assuming they even treat the recording as urgently as we do. The sooner you investigate the root of this mystery, the better."
"Appreciate the help, ma'am," Gorman tried to stand up from the bed, but Miura held him back. "We're just one ship, but we'll try our best."
"Trying your best saved a lot of lives today, Commander," Tara managed a worn smile of her own. "May the Goddess protect you."
Both mother and daughter bid farewell, leaving the quarters and therefore allowing waiting others to slowly filter back in.
"Almost done, Commander," Dr. Miura's scan finally came to a close. "Those 'ribs' you humans have? Yeah, there were a couple fractures, nothing major. Medi-gel repaired anything serious on the spot. Internal bleeding has largely subsided, and the lack of oxygen from your spacewalk hasn't led to any substantial brain damage."
"Lucky me," Gorman coughed out a chuckle.
"Lucky?" Dr. Miura herself let out a laugh. She was in remarkably good form for someone who didn't have half as much protection from the vacuum earlier. "There's some sort of prothean doomsday approaching, Matriarch Benezia's working with the geth, the Council aren't prepared to respond and you're about to try and solve it single-handedly if needs be? You call that lucky?"
"Could be worse."
"It is worse. I've never operated on a human before."
Gorman winced, and hoped that he had the same number of working parts inside as when he last woke up.
"You're the second human I've ever talked to," Miura continued, "Actually, you're the second non-asari I've ever talked to."
"…And? What do you make of us?"
"Your physiology is…puzzling, to say the least. I haven't the slightest idea what some of your organs actually do. You can't merge minds, you have no biotics, you age ten times faster than us…"
"We're boring?"
"You're incredible," the asari shook her head in disbelief. "The ways you make up for what we would call deficiencies astound me. If you don't mind me asking, Commander…how does it feel? To be a human?"
Gorman hummed. How best to sum up the last ten thousand years of civilization? Was he capable of describing human nature? Does 'human nature' exist? He had to defer to the supreme authorities.
"The smartest humans in history have asked themselves the same thing, and each one of them has a different answer."
"I wasn't asking them, Commander. What do you think?"
"Me?" Gorman hummed some more. Until recently, he might have given a different answer than what he eventually said. "Every day I'm being surprised. I'm still figuring humanity out, I suppose."
"Appreciate the honesty, Commander," Miura loosened her posture with a smile. "That makes two of us." She put forth a hand. Gorman grabbed it, and together they hoisted him back onto two feet. The doctor was about to leave when she twirled back to ask her last question. "Just one more thing…"
Gorman opened his palms to her and waited.
"Your 'Kalu' officer…does he have a bondmate?" she asked, her tone much more hushed. Not hushed enough for the towering human that had approached behind her.
"Do I have a what?" Kalu smirked.
The asari yelped and exchanged rapid looks with all the humans, her mouth hanging open. An asari biological fact was established without even needing to ask – they could blush. She scurried away to her lab-coat wearing colleagues, leaving the Commander and his security guard-turned-sidekick to themselves.
"She's not the only one who owes you, Kevin," Kalu nodded. Gorman couldn't help but notice the ends of thick grey bandages poking through that green jumpsuit of his. There were also a handful of scratches and healing cuts on his head and neck. "If I was in your position," he continued, "With a bomb seconds from blowing, I would have gotten the hell out of there. You didn't. Either you have a death wish, or you're just that confident, but I don't care – you saved my hide. So…thanks."
Gorman looked up and saw the sincerity in his dark eyes. It wasn't in the Commander's style to get all sappy and say 'That's what friends are for', but he flicked a smile out in return and got back to business.
"Last thing I remember, we were spinning around in space, then bam, I was out. What happened?"
"You got hit by some debris," Kalu explained, "That asari, Dr. Miura? She did what T'Lore did that saved me from the first explosion, made some kind of biotic field to protect us, stop ourselves from freezing and exploding. Took a lot out of her, I'm surprised she's still able to stand. Shackleton arrived just in time to pick us up after that."
"And the rest of the crew? They made it out okay?"
"All accounted for, captain!" Saal'Inor literally hopped into the conversation. A curious little rasp to her synthesized voice did not dampen her cheeriness. There was a stretch underneath one of her suit's belts and buckles that was covered with a sparkly, futuristic version of duct-tape. "Good to…" she had to pause for a length sniffle, "…see you on your feet!"
"Where are the others?" Gorman started the investigation.
"Pierre's…in his favorite chair. Zaz is in the engine room, trying to…hide from the asari for some reason. I don't think she…likes their attitude."
"Not our place to judge," shrugged Kalu.
"The turian and Bodewell are down the…stairs," the quarian continued, "The human wanted to go over the footage…from the Shackleton's battle with the pirate ship. He said that whatever a 'dogfight' is will…make Pierre an Alliance celebrity."
"You sound as sick as a dog, Sally," Gorman addressed her constant sniffles. "Are you alright? I could get Dr. Miura back…"
"A suit puncture will do that, captain," Sally heaved a chuckle, "But don't worry, I've got enough medicine in my suit to…sedate a krogan. And there's that word again – 'dog'. Is it a…type of human?"
"I'll tell you later," Gorman got back on track, "Gather the crew, get them up to the bridge. We need to have an official debrief."
Both Kalu and Saal'Inor nodded and departed for the stairwell. No questions asked, the Commander noticed. It had taken a few tries and a lot of saving, but he could consider their loyalties earned. This objective went beyond mere friendship. If what Tara said was true, and he was going to have to plunge into the heart of a galactic conspiracy, he'd need them loyal to a fault. He whipped out the omni-tool and looked at his Earth standard watch. A mental countdown begun.
The moment arrived. The sea of asari scientists parted, allowing him to exit the crew quarters and stop just short of the bridge. He wasn't just trying to be fashionably late to the team meeting – he wanted to hear firsthand what his 'team' were like when their Commander wasn't present.
He didn't need to listen for long.
"You left him for dead!" Blanc roared.
"We waited any longer, we'd all be dead!" snarled Petronis in response. "I made a call. Turned out fine. Get over it."
"Besides, Pierre, you'd leave Jocasta behind without a second of hesitation," Zaz snarked.
"At least I'd identify a bomb big enough to blow up a ship that size," the pilot retorted. "Seriously, how couldn't you find it?"
"He's got a point," Kalu agreed. You could feel the lingering disappointment in his voice.
"There wouldn't be a bomb if a certain scrawny soft-skinned human hadn't decided to play wing commander against an uncrewed bathtub!" the turian spat back.
"There's no need for name-calling, Jocasta," T'Lore attempted a different sort of defusal. It went poorly.
"Who are you calling soft, bent-leg birdfaced murderer?" Blanc ramped up his attack.
"What's wrong with…having bent legs?" Saal'Inor chimed in between sniffles. "It's your legs that are…the wrong way forward."
"You're pathetic, human," the turian ignored any attempt to distract from the insults hurled her way. "No wonder Shanxi gave up without a fight."
"I thought we agreed not to talk about Shanxi!" Bodewell quickly stumbled into the fray with a loud whisper.
"Good thing the Council pulled your leash, then," was Blanc's ultimate reply. "You obviously had no problem culling generations of unborn krogan, so what's a few billion humans to a race like yours?"
The only reason Gorman hadn't intervened sooner was that he was too mesmerized by how horrible the conversation in the bridge had become. He was learning new insults by the second. He was able to break its grip, swerving into the bridge with purpose.
The attention of the crowd shifted without the need for any whistles, bangs on the wall or shots in the air. The Commander peered over his troop with his chin raised, eyes sharp, legs in fighting stance and the signature pointing finger raised.
"I leave you all alone for five minutes…Lord give me strength…" he began with an exasperation equal parts genuine and played up. The pointing finger sought its first victim. "Lieutenant Blanc – apologize to the turian."
"But…" The pilot made to justify his actions, and was swiftly overruled by a seriously stern look. He sighed. "Fine. Jocasta, I'm sorry for…euh…calling you a -"
"Petronis," Gorman's direction switched, "Do you accept his apology?"
"Okay, sure, I accept." The sarcasm was clear, but the Commander wasn't finished with her.
"Now, you apologize to Kalu," he ordered. Heads across the bridge turned.
"I made a call!" Petronis switched to defense, "You told me to leave, so I left! You made me Bravo leader, I took initiative!"
Gorman was having none of it.
"I might try and run this ship military, but I'm no soldier," Gorman explained, not just to her but to the group, "I'm a cop. And where I come from, that means we leave no one behind. Sometimes there's no option. I know. I was there all too recently…" The levee broke, and memories flooded back. "We were outnumbered, outgunned, outmatched. We had one good LMG, a broken Space Shuttle and a six-foot-seven Brazilian with a riot shield. They had advanced weaponry we'd never seen before, which they kindly demonstrated by killing five hundred thousand people in the blink of an eye. Our own losses mounted. Dr. Kozhevnikov got a hole the size of a basketball through his chest. Eddie Croucher blew up from his own improvised explosive. Samir took a bullet through his eye – and kept shooting so that we could go save Niamh across the deck. We knew that we were all dead from the moment we stepped on that ship – and yet we tried. We kept trying. You have to try!"
The bridge fell silent…and then the turian spoke.
"I'm sorry, Commander…and Kalu."
"It's alright," Kalu replied.
Gorman took a deep breath. There was still a lasting dull pain, but he'd powered through much worse. He'd also given speeches in much more dire circumstances. One speech couldn't fix whatever the hell was going on before he entered, but it was a start. It was time to give credit where it was due, and begin the debrief.
"Now…" The Commander's posture relaxed, and subconsciously some of the crew followed suit. "Other than the final half hour, you all handled yourselves as well as I could have hoped. I know my unintentional absence didn't help, but by all accounts you kept your nerve under pressure and dealt with the pirates effectively – on both of the ships. Well done."
Some heads lifted that bit higher. Blanc was obviously proud of his first ship-to-ship takedown, and Petronis, from what Gorman gathered, took an equal pride in carrying out her role as Bravo leader during the first of their fights on the Siren. Zaz, meanwhile, had her hand raised.
"Yes, Zaz?" Gorman noticed.
"Commander…just who were those pirates?" she started, the single-issue in her mind since the beginning of combat rearing its head again, "I'd never shot a human before. It's a lot simpler when it's the geth." She was a lot less confrontational than when she'd brought it up previously. Perhaps there was a hint of her own past in who they had fought.
Nods erupted across the bridge, especially from Saal'Inor. Gorman hummed – he had an answer but it wasn't as clear as he would have liked.
"Alliance database told me they were members of something called the UCLA," he answered, before opening it to the floor. "Anyone know anything?"
"United Cosmic Liberation Army," came the answer he was looking for. Out of all people, it was Don Bodewell to shed some light. "Some obscure cosmosocialist dissident group, ties to some really, really old rigid ideologies back on Earth. All power to the toilers, true communism achieved by 2190, Yuri Gagarin will return one day, et cetera." The vidcaster was shaking his head so that everyone knew he disagreed with them. "Their predecessor, the Cosmic Liberation Army, were best-known for trying to steal the Soviet rover Lunokhod 1 from a museum on Luna, but about two years ago the CLA split over whether to declare 'critical support' to the turian Hierarchy. So these days there's the United Cosmic Liberation Army and the People's Cosmic Liberation Army."
"Which one critically supports us?" Petronis was curious.
"That…I don't know," Bodewell's knowledge was impressive, but his bodyguard had him stumped. "Could be both. Could be neither."
"So, space communists," Gorman was also curious, but for different reasons. "That's cute. But why would they attack the Siren of Lusia?"
"Beats me, Commander," Bodewell admitted, "Until now they were mostly harmless, but they're still a militia. A group like them still needs resources. An undefended ship in unclaimed space like the Siren might have been a prize worth the risk."
T'Lore was not convinced.
"I am not convinced," she stated. "My instincts say they were hired. But by whom?"
If anyone had any suspicions, they chose not to air them.
"Doesn't matter," said Kalu, "We stopped them, saved as many scientists as we could." He turned to Gorman. "What's our next move, Commander?"
"We're done, right?" Zaz guessed, "We gave our recording to Tara, she'll get it to the Council. Mission accomplished."
The look on the Commander's face told her just how wrong she was. It was also easy to forget that even if it was mission accomplished, they still didn't have the Ambassador's blessing to get within spitting distance of home. He didn't need much time to make a decision about what the very next step was, however.
"Well, first we need to drop the scientists off somewhere safe."
"Already taken care of," Blanc interjected, "We're heading back to Polaris Station as we speak."
"Good, good," Gorman nodded, "Perfect, actually, because of what comes after that."
He had to pause a moment to find the right phrasing.
"Tara and I talked about the recording. She agrees that an asari and a turian are working with the geth, but worse than that, she recognized the asari as some big government figure." Eyes across the bridge widened. "That means simply reaching the Council might not be enough. We need to investigate the last lead for ourselves – and soon."
"Virmire," remembered Saal'Inor.
"That's right," Gorman confirmed, "Now, I've asked a lot from everyone here. Too much, for some." He glanced at Zaz. "But I don't want to send anyone here into the unknown again against their will. Knowing your limits is always good, and on the Siren some of you may have reached yours. Point is, I definitely cannot guarantee any less danger. We're stopping at Polaris Station, and if anyone wants to disembark for good – go right ahead. Nobody will judge. I certainly won't."
"As I told you…I'm staying," Kalu started, "Whatever's out there, I'll be ready."
"I'm with Kalu," concurred Zaz, "I've always been ready. Let's go avenge Eden Prime."
"I'm with…them!" exclaimed Saal'Inor between more sniffles.
"Hell yeah! We're in!" Bodewell cranked up the mood, throwing his arms up to Petronis for a high-five. The turian did not reciprocate, but gave the Commander a firm blink.
"It's not going to be easy," the turian tried to drag everyone back to reality. "You know that, right?" After a look at her pleading employer, she relented. "We'll figure it out, I suppose."
Lastly, Blanc took the stage.
"And someone needs to drive us there in style."
"Alright," Gorman began. Without realizing it, a smile crept on his face. "Clock's ticking. Let's get to work."