Chapter Ten: Bravo Squad

Year: 2016
Location: Boston, Massachusetts

Eric landed on his bed, exhausted after working for most of the day. Laying on his back, he stared at the ceiling. The afternoon sunlight traveled through the windows in his bedroom, casting on the tan carpet floor. Although he graduated with high honors, the prospect of going to MIT made his chest well up with anxiety.

Suddenly, noises came from downstairs. His parents were arguing, he guessed. Again. Their heated discussions had been going up and down for the last several months.

Sighing, Eric stood up from his bed and left his bedroom. As soon as he stepped out, he saw his brother tiptoeing down the stairs with his sister just behind him.

"That bad?" Eric asked, concerned.

A resigned Alfonso nodded. As he and his siblings reached the bottom of the stairs, they saw their father sitting on the couch, their mother standing nearby with her hands on her hips, frowning.

"Oh, what am I going to do?" their mother asked after rubbing her forehead.

His father sighed and looked down at the floor as if in shame.

Eric squeezed through his siblings. "Hey, wha—" Alfonso called out, and Garcia grunted as Eric gently shoved her aside.

"Mamá, Papá, what's going on?" Eric asked when he stepped into the living room.

His father turned his head at him. "Your father's not going," her mother answered for him.

Eric's heart dropped. Alfonso and Garcia stepped in as well, just as aghast as he was. "Is it because of—" Garcia tried to speak out.

"My work, yes," their father finished with a small gesture of his hand.

"You need a break, Papá," Alfonso pointed out. "That shit's not healthy. It's gonna burn you out."

"I'm doing this to help our family, help you—" their father replied.

"Oh, bullshit," Alfonso called out, raising his voice. "That's just an excuse and you know it. Sure, it helps us financially, but Garcia and I have jobs too, and we still make time. Even Mamá has a job at the hospital." He scoffed.

"Don't say it," their mother spoke.

Alfonso glared at her. "Say what? That he should get some therapy instead of wallowing in his work? That he would rather run away from his problems from the military and at the marathon few years ago instead."

Their father fell silent, taking a deep breath. With a furrowed brow and flaring nostrils, he stood up and gave Alfonso an intense look, like there were daggers in his eyes. If looks could kill…

"Marido, espera!" their mother protested. "I'll talk to him for the way he talks back, but he's worried about you."

Without looking, their father raised his index finger in front of their mother. "I will handle it." He lowered his hand, still looking at Alfonso, who was taken aback. Eric was not looking forward to this.

"What I'm going through right now is nothing compared to what you went through. Look at you, bouncing right back after nearly getting blown up by a lunatic. I cope on my own terms. Do you hear me, son?" he snarled, almost yelling with furious fire in his eyes. Alfonso said nothing. "Do you?!"

Everybody was left stunned. It took a moment for their father to register what he had done, and the look on his face shifted from anger to shock, as if the weight of his actions came down on him. "I… I didn't mean to..." he said breathlessly before shaking his head. "Just… just go." He sank back into the couch and dug his head into his hands. Their mother sat by him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulders.

"C'mon, guys. Let's go to CambridgeSide for a bit. Give him some space," Garcia suggested.

Alfonso sighed. "Yeah. Coming, Eric?"

Eric nodded sullenly, and he and his siblings left the living room. As they left through the back door, Eric thought he heard sobbing.

Year: 2183
Location: SSV Perugia, 63rd Scout Flotilla, near the Citadel

Eric, Garrett, Cortez, and his colleagues stood in an office on the cruiser. All of them were out of their armor and into their uniforms. A window had encompassed the wall in front of them, showing the Citadel and several ships out there. A man in Alliance blues sat behind his desk rubbing his temples together with one hand. He sighed, and his lime-green eyes looked up to the large ensemble of misfits. Well, at least that was what Bristol would call themselves, Eric noted.

"Insubordination, stealing Alliance property…" the man, Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, stated. "You do realize these are serious offenses, don't you?"

Eric had a chill running down his spine, even as he kept a straight face with his hands crossed behind his back like the others standing alongside him.

"We are well aware, sir," Ami replied.

"And may I ask why all of you chose to disobey orders?" There was a hint of anger in the rear admiral's voice, despite the unreadable expression on his face.

"Sir, we couldn't afford to sit by and watch while our friends and folks were in danger," Cortez replied.

"That I understand clearly, Lieutenant. That is part of our job—hell, our main job depending on who you ask. We made these orders and carried them out to keep some hotheads like you all from doing something reckless. Something dangerous. Now…" The rear admiral leaned forward with his hands tented together on his desk as he eyed every one of them. "I know all of you have done your fair share of heroics, but who came up with that idea in the first place?"

All eyes fell on Eric. He had to remind himself to fight off that uneasy feeling every few seconds. Along with the feeling of stage fright, of course.

Finally, he took a step forward. "It was, uh…" He paused suddenly, trying to settle his nerves by clearing his throat as he blinked rapidly. "It was me, sir. If there should be any blame, put it all on me. I'll take responsibility."

Garrett turned toward him with surprise palpable in his eyes. "You sure about this, man?" he asked.

"Going by his response, I say he is quite certain." Mikhailovich looked at the rest of the group and leaned back in his chair, his hands still tented together. "And you did this despite the consequences?"

Eric nodded. "Yes, sir. We are aware of the dangers of going to the Citadel. We weren't there to kill geth. We were there to help people. What's wrong with that?"

The rear admiral's nostrils flared as his glare at Eric felt like daggers piercing into his body. "What's wrong was that you could have gotten killed as far as anybody would know! You're damn lucky you only got one of your own to a hospital with a concussion," the rear admiral retorted. He closed his eyes and fell silent for a moment, his index fingers placed on the bridge of his nose.

"So… what will happen next?" Alban asked, uncertain.

"Normally, the brass would dishonorably discharge you, but…" The admiral's lips curled as if trying to comprehend what he was about to say next. "These are unusual times, and Commander Shepard did defy the Council's orders to stay put. I can't say it would be consistent of us to punish you for your… actions. You did save lives, I must admit."

This had taken Eric by surprise, and he wasn't the only one who did not see this coming. "Wait, what?" Melek asked.

"You heard me," Rear Admiral Mikhailovich replied as he stood up. "The Alliance is gonna reward you. Promotions, maybe some medals for your efforts."

"Wow. So why are you talking to us instead of the admirals?" Bristol pointed out. "Sounds like they're busy or somethin'. Dealing with any geth stragglers and cleaning up the mess at the Citadel."

"That is correct," Mikhailovich responded. "Though you're still a private, you're 1st class now. All of you, save for Cortez, have all been promoted to private 1st class. As for you, Cortez…" He turned at the lieutenant as the pilot stood straight, his hands at his side. "Looks like you're also promoted, Lieutenant Cortez. 1st class as well." He approached Cortez and shook his hand. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," Cortez replied. "I'll make you proud."

"I'm sure you will. Just… don't do anything reckless again." Rear Admiral Mikhailovich straightened his posture, his hands crossed behind his back. "As for all of you, you will be assigned to separate teams…"

Location: Alliance Main Operating Base, Zakera Ward, Citadel

Bravo Squad. Eric and Garrett would be assigned to that attachment, replacing its previous members. The others were assigned to different detachments. Arthur was expected to follow suit as soon as he made a full recovery. Cortez would be assigned to one of the colonies, and Eric realized he would wound up at Horizon, eventually at least. He would have found some way for Cortez's then-boyfriend to survive the Collectors' attack two years from now.

Still, Eric couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the Alliance rewarded them for their insubordination. Then again, perhaps being warned not to pull it off again was punishment enough. He sighed and fell quiet, reading and rereading the datapad that had dossiers of each of the remaining members of Bravo Squad. Aside from him, Garrett was in the shuttle, sitting next to him, as it flew past the pillars at the Citadel.

First on the list was Staff Lieutenant Roy Brandon, an N7 and a biotic, someone with the ability to manipulate dark matter at a whim. If he remembered his lessons correctly, N7 was a vocational code in the Alliance military, special forces that essentially represented the best of the best in the Alliance. Their training was said to be grueling and tough. Next to all the information available on Roy was a portrait of him, a bald man with sepia brown skin and a jawline with a 5 o'clock shadow. Underneath his right gray eye was a series of small scars. Given how red they were, Eric couldn't help but assume the scars were a recent addition.

Next on the list was Gunnery Chief Talia Bert. While she had biotic capabilities, she also had some aptitude for technology, something that was uncommon in the Alliance. Her portrait showed a wide face and short dark hair, copper skin, and narrow eyes that made her look angry, with a birthmark next to her right eye.

Last was Operations Chief Zoey Lugo, a sniper with high marks in marksmanship, infiltration, and recon. Her psychological profile indicated she had a bit of a cocky attitude. Eric supposed it would be something he had to see for himself. The portrait of her had her peachy-fair skin, blue circular eyes, narrow nose and lips, and brown hair that had tied into a ponytail. Or at least he thought it tied into a ponytail.

According to the datapad, there were two previous members of the squad. One was Alan Cain, a heavy weapons specialist who had left the team recently. The other, Manon Fulmer, was killed in action, and Eric was her replacement. That information alone had weighed him down somewhat as if it became some albatross hanging around his neck.

"Hey, you okay?" Garrett asked, finally breaking the silence as he leaned over Eric's shoulder.

Eric glanced up to see his boyfriend. "Yeah. It's, uh… it's been a hell of a day, isn't it?"

"You can say that, love. Could've been worse if you ask me." Despite his best attempt at resistance, Garrett smirked teasingly.

Eric's face scrunched up in embarrassment. If only he could lean back even further. "Uh, please don't say that. You're going to jinx it. I just know it."

Garrett scoffed and shook his head without another word.

"If something bad happens, I'm blaming you," Eric quipped.

Garrett let out a hearty giggle. Eric would never expect that from someone so burly and so manly. "Are you now?" he squeaked a little.

Eric tried to come up with a retort he figured would be witty, but their fun little talk ended abruptly when the shuttle landed at their destination, the engines letting out a rumbling sigh.

The Alliance pilot at the front end of the shuttle, a bronze-skinned woman with orange-red hair tied in a bun, stood up and faced toward the two. "Alright, we've arrived at the FOB," she announced with what Eric assumed to be an Australian accent. "Best of luck to ya."

"Appreciate it, ma'am," Garrett replied as they stood up.

"Same," Eric added.

They grabbed their duffle bags, each the equivalent of a footlocker, as the wall to their right parted and opened. Stepping out of the shuttle and onto the platform, Eric looked up and down at the facility and around, as they weren't the only ones here. Mechanics were performing some maintenance on the machinery while soldiers looked on, vigilant for any funny business.

The door closed and the shuttle took off, flying back to the rest of the Alliance fleet outside the station as it went out of their sight.

The two were by themselves, save for random residents passing by the hangar filled with small starships and shuttles. The base itself was an assortment of small buildings surrounded by a solid metal wall. As Eric looked around, of their discretion.

There was also a man matching Roy's description from the datapad leaning against the railing nearby, wearing a black hoodie and a pair of cargo pants. Immediately, he snapped his head towards them and stood straight, unfolding his arms that were in front of his chest.

"Hey. Welcome to the main operating base," the man said as he approached the two. The one thing Eric noticed was the white N7 designation on his chest along with a red stripe running down on his right sleeve.

Garrett gasped when he noticed the N7 insignia as well, saluting in a heartbeat while Eric looked on with wide eyes in confusion. Garrett's face scrunched as if he was trying his best not to smile in excitement. "Sir!" he exclaimed.

"Relax, Garrett. We're not doing any formalities. Nor are we on a mission for that matter." The N7 officer offered his hand and, in an instant, Garret took it, shaking it rather quickly. "Staff Lieutenant Roy Brandon and you should just relax, big guy! Sheesh!"

Garrett had let go of Roy's hand as he finally smiled, nervous and overwhelmed with excitement. "Sorry, sir! It's just that, well… you're an N7, and they're a bunch of badasses," he squealed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"So we are," Roy chuckled, his hands on his hips. "Though speaking of formalities, welcome to Bravo Squad."

"So, uh… any idea where your place is at?" Eric asked.

"We're at that building over there." The N7 officer pointed his thumb toward one building down southward, an apartment-like building not unlike the others Eric had seen on the Citadel, this one with the electronic sign saying 'Bravo'. "If you follow me, it'll be harder to miss."

"Yeah, thanks," Garrett nodded. "Right away, sir."

The lieutenant turned around and began walking, the two graduates sauntering close behind. Though Eric wasn't quite close, he couldn't help but feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing.

Eric was alone in the dorms, occupying his time with the virtual, floating orange ball known as a drone, the program given to him by the brass before he and Garrett set off for Bravo Squad. Garrett was off at the cafeteria and the rest of the squad joined him.

The room was spacious enough to fit ten beds, five on each side. It was also spacious enough to test the drone's IFF and guidance systems without him bumping into anything even if he wasn't paying attention. While pacing around, the drone followed him close by, though he swore it had glitched when it stood there one time for a few seconds. That aside, it worked like a charm. Modifications that would dispense medi-gel to any of his squadmates injured in its vicinity aside, he wondered if he should give it a name like Tali did for hers.

"Hey, Eric!" someone called out.

He turned around, seeing a woman matching the picture in Zoey Lugo's dossier. The sniper entered the room, carrying around a small package. "Got something for ya," she said.

"What's that?" Eric asked.

Zoey glanced at the label on the package. "Looks like it's from your friend," she answered. "Natalie Clay, right?"

"Yeah. I'll take it, thanks," he replied, and Zoey handed him the package over.

As she was about to turn and leave, she stopped and looked at Eric's drone. "Hey, did you give it a name yet? These things always look cute… before they zap you to death or something."

Eric snickered while his drone let out a random chirp. "Not on top of my head yet. Got any good ones?"

Zoey shrugged. "Nope. Sorry," she answered. "By the way, you should spend some time with us in the cafeteria."

"I'm good, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

The door closed as Zoey left the room. With a tap on his omni-tool, the drone vanished. He sat down on a bed nearby and appraised the package. What he saw in his hands was an envelope made of paper. Real, white paper like in his universe. These days, everybody has switched to datapads and other forms of electronics. He never thought he would miss the texture of paper.

He slid it open. He gasped, his hands shaking. He couldn't believe it. In the box was a small stack of pictures he took on his phone. The one placed at the top was the one he took of his family last year at Angkor Wat. The other pictures were that of happier times, one of which from a few years ago, back when he walked at the park with his father.

He stopped when he came upon the picture he took of the orb and the plain pedestal it stood on. The lizard part of his brain wanted him to tear it down and forget about it. But where would that leave him?

His omni-tool suddenly chimed. As he placed the package with the pictures back inside underneath the bed, he summoned a paper-thin screen above his leveled arm. The screen showed Natalie sitting in her living room while carrying one of her twin daughters, whom he recognized as Florina. Florina was the one that had Natalie's hair color while Helene had lighter hair.

Eric couldn't help but wonder if he should get the twins a Christmas present.

"Hey, Nat!" he said with a smile. "Thank you for sending me this. It…" He hesitated. He didn't know what else to say. "Thank you. Thank you so much for this."

"Least I could do." Natalie smiled. "I hired a quarian a couple weeks ago. Your birthday's in June, right?"

"Yeah."

"Like a late birthday gift. Or a graduation gift." She smiled. "Well, that one was held up by the geth attacking the station. Either way, better late than never."

"It works," Eric replied.

"So anyway, he's good—like really good—at using old tech. Turian, human, salarian, asari, you name it."

"Did he look at them?" Eric asked, worried.

"No. I asked him not to. Told him they were private, so he assembled an old-fashioned printer for the pictures to automate the process."

"Oh. Okay." He sighed, relieved. "Again, thank you." He leaned his head in a little closer. "Huh. Looks like the house is untouched."

The baby cooed as she glanced at her mother. He wasn't quite certain if she had responded to him. But Natalie gently shook her baby with her knee. "Yeah. The others weren't so lucky. Luke and I volunteered in the reconstruction of the Wards."

"Got yourself a babysitter, then?"

Natalie nodded. "Yeah. Remember Alynea from the hospital? She's the babysitter."

Eric knew what she was talking about. Alynea Tani was the asari nurse who took care of him when he entered this universe. Aside from his emotional meltdowns, he had a decent time there.

"Yeah, that's kinda cool," he answered. "I see Florina's doing alright. How's Helene? Hi, Florina!" He waved with a smile. "Hola!"

Natalie looked at her daughter. "Say hello to Eric, sweetie. Say hi!"

The baby cooed as her mother held her right arm and waved it at the screen. Yet she smiled.

"Helene's fine. She's been fine," Natalie answered. "Isn't that right, Florina? Huh, sweetie?"

"How's Luke, then? Still busy?" Eric asked.

Natalie looked up at Eric. "Yeah. I guess you can say that." Eric couldn't help but notice the somewhat forlorn look on her face.

"Something wrong?"

Before he could say more, he heard someone calling out behind him.

"Eric, Roy wants us in the command room. He says it's urgent." The woman's accent was mostly Eastern European. Which country, he couldn't pinpoint without looking it up. He turned around, seeing a woman matching the picture in Talia Bert's profile standing at the exit of the room. She rested her shoulder against the door.

"How urgent?"

"Enough to start a briefing," Talia deadpanned. "Are you coming?"

"Y-yeah! Tell the others I'm on my way," Eric replied and turned back toward his screen. "Hey listen, I gotta go. You probably heard what the woman said."

"Yeah. Sounds pretty serious," said Natalie. "Won't take more of your time, then. Talk to you soon?"

"Hopefully," Eric answered, almost letting out a bitter sigh. "See ya." He then closed the screen and turned his omni-tool off. He turned around, only to find Talia had just left the room, not wanting to waste more time waiting for him. "Shit, coming!" he called out, having also left the room as he caught up to the biotic tech.

It's a brand new day for you, Eric, his thoughts reassured him. Hope you can focus on the small things, just like Papa has taught you.

The quarian in question is Dar'Nara vas Rayya, who is owned by, well… DarNara. He has given me permission to have him be mentioned here and appear in Eric's next story. Hey, I got my username from a D&D character. I don't see anything wrong with naming yourself online after a character you came up with.