Trying a few new things here, for the learning experience. This story's got a few fun places that I'm planning on taking it. I think this first chapter sets the scene on how things went differently both in Kancolle and Mass Effect from either's canon. As with many other people who've written KC FF, I'm following more of the BB-esque school of 'Shipgirls are human-ish when on land and steel-hulls when at sea.' Since I got into KC more from the naval history/engineering-enthusiast side than from the anime side, I just cannot take a bunch of people figure-skating on the water and firing turret-pistols seriously when having actual warships is an option instead.
I'm cross-posting this to Fanfiction for those who prefer reading there.
Also, this is my first thread creation on SV; can any of the veterans out there tell me how not to drive myself crazy manually-spacing paragraphs when transferring text from Word?
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Mallex Caveran had been deployed to what felt like every back-country planet in known space at least twice: The first time around to do his duty to Home and Hierarchy by putting would-be rebels back in their correct place, and the second as an embedded reporter watching the next generation of soldiers fight the next generation of rebels.
To many of his colleagues, it was disheartening. But why should it be? The Hierarchy endured, peace in the galaxy continued, and he got paid to tour known space more extensively than even the most spoiled Asari university student. It was only fair that each generation got their chance at such a privilege.
This was the first time, though, that he was sent to a planet that he hadn't set boots on beforehand, and a "Citadel Core World," at that. Hah. If the Council hadn't intervened back then, though, things may have gone differently.
The shuttle flared, gravity in the cabin jumping by perhaps a third as the pilot decelerated for landing. Mallex tensed, feet scratching at the soles of his boots. Proper civilian shuttles managed their gravity better – the last time he'd felt such rough handling, the pilot had at least had the excuse of being shot at.
"On behalf of our captain and crew, thank you for flying Trans-Orbital, and welcome to Vancouver."
He waited in-line to disembark with more patience than he thought he had in him. Admittedly, it was no worse a wait than he'd been through many times over a long career — "Hurry up and wait" was the life of any soldier, even if the humans had phrased it the best.
Still, he finally worked his way clear of the shuttle with a happy cant to his mandibles, stepping out into the concourse. Now that he had room, he could read his omni-tool's latest message without someone peering over his shoulder.
Or around his shoulder; humans were short when they weren't in armor.
The message turned out to be exactly what he was expecting, meaning that he wouldn't have to wait once more for his friend to arrive. She was in the main parking lot, several stories above on the roof of the passenger terminal.
He laughed to himself as he strode off to the nearest elevator. She probably couldn't leave her car for long enough to meet him outside the gate; some enterprising museum custodian would snatch up the lovingly-maintained old crate for their collection.
The elevator was somehow more packed than the tiny shuttle had been, although it was more tolerable now that he was closer to getting away from the crowds. The plates atop his head kept prickling, telling him that his sergeant was a half-second away from shouting a reminder about proper spacing to the flat-faced recruits under the veteran's care.
Mallex shook his head, causing the nervous businessman to his right to duck away from his fringe as the spikes whistled overhead. Sergeant Kamastis had unexpectedly retired well over a decade ago, what with his bondmate surprising him with a daughter.
Probably still more work than riding herd on a dozen fledgling soldiers, come to think of it. Mallex did occasionally give thanks that his own future didn't promise children any time soon.
The elevator doors opened atop the spaceport hub to show the exact old skycar that he had expected, with the after-market raised roof above the passenger's seat just tall enough for him to fit.
This time, he did shoulder his way through the small crowd squeezing out of the elevator, marching forwards to the car as eagerly as a fledgling recruit on his first day of leave. The black-furred woman pretended to stay focused on her own omni-tool, but he knew that her grandfather had raised her better than that.
"Williams."
"It's 'Ash,' or you're 'Sir,'…Mal" She said, glancing up with the grin he knew she'd been hiding, and paused. After looking him up and down, she raised one eyebrow. "You're in uniform."
"Know a better way to have some breathing room in a human shuttle than wearing a Hierarchy hardsuit?" He flicked one mandible wide to take the bite out of his words. "Besides, it seemed…fitting, for your tour."
"It might, at that." Ash reached up and pulled his head down to hers, foreheads resting against each other for a few heartbeats. Then she ducked away and patted the roof of her car. "You know which seat's yours."
Ten minutes later, and they were outside the first stop. Well, the one that Mallex suspected would end up taking up the whole day's schedule, and the one he'd dressed up for.
The War museum. The only war in human history, even nearly two centuries later, that needed no other descriptor. Just 'the War,' no matter how much Terra Firma may prattle on about Shanxi.
He still didn't quite know how to feel about it, even as a Turian. The rest of the galaxy agreed that the humans had just made-up the Abyssal War to explain away the nuclear scars that still marked their homeworld. Only the sons and daughters of Palaven went so far as to even entertain the notion of sentient warships. Admittedly, it stung many Turians that the humans' Spirits had visited them so much more openly than had their own, but then again Palaven had never strayed so perilously close to collapse as Earth had.
Not even during the Rebellions.
Of course the Spirits hadn't stayed around for long afterwards; they knew well enough that mortals were best left alone when possible. His father had certainly drilled it into his head how the Spirits would judge any person's life only when it had played out in full. All accomplishments were weighed against future misdeeds; sins could be absolved by proper atonement.
Either way, it had seemed fitting to Mallex that he wear his old armor to the museum, a view seemingly shared by the older human who manned the kiosk at the entrance. The man nodded respectfully to the Turian as he handed over an archaic wax-paper brochure. The human's well-kept uniform was unfamiliar: definitely not present-day Alliance, and not in service during Shanxi. An old veteran, then, for all that the man was likely younger than Mallex himself. Mallex returned a nod of his own before letting Ash lead him inside the building.
Given that it was the middle of a work-day, local time, it was unsurprising that the museum was all-but-empty. The darkened main hall soared upwards and stretched back into the shadows, lit only by towering holograms of humanity's protectors.
Gazing up at the faces of humans long-past — sort-of, at any rate — he was struck by how much the museum reminded him of a Remembrance Hall back home. Perhaps somewhat over-sized and lacking the cushioned booths that would line the main room, but it did remind him of why the Hierarchy had found a cultural friend in the Alliance despite their rocky start. The respectful silence of the double-handful of other visitors — and Ash, most surprisingly — further served to remind him of childhood visits to the family Hall.
As the holograms changed to a different set of 'ship-girls,' an idle thought struck Mallex. Did they count as 'larger-than-life' renditions if their non-human bodies had been larger than the museum itself?
Regardless, he made a note to see about finding clothes like that for Ash. She might deck him for suggesting it, but if she wore them even half as well as this — he glanced down at the name below the projection — 'Musashi' did, it would be well-worth the pain.
The tour inevitably led outside, to the small wharf that jutted out into the harbor. The display-board helpfully informed him that the museum stood on the site of a hastily-built naval base from the War, and that the wooden planks which sagged worryingly underfoot had been preserved from that era.
At least the single ship moored at the edge of the waterfront was well-maintained, if somewhat small. A single handful of humans were applying a new coat of paint, with two of them hanging over the side on a small platform while the third — a gray-furred old-timer — leaned over the railing above.
Stopping to read the information panel, Mallex tried to fit the vowel-dense human words out through a mouth utterly unsuited for them. After a few tries that sounded wrong and left his jaw aching, Mallex's pride was not mollified in the slightest when Ash patted him on the upper arm.
Especially not given the smirk that he could hear in her voice. "You'll get it eventually."
He did not dignify that with a response, instead leaning in closer to the weather-beaten placard and squinting. Underneath the borderline-opaque plastiglass, the English text must have been hard to read even for a native speaker. But this was his first visit to one of humanity's holy sites, and he'd not shame his own Spirits by getting the name wrong.
That being said, hopefully this human Spirit would be somewhat understanding. He turned to admit defeat and ask Ash to pronounce the name for him.
But the wharf leading back to the museum was empty of everything save for a few tendrils of fog rolling in from offshore. Metal clinked from behind him, and he turned to see Ash standing by the gangplank, unclipping the rope which hung across it to bar the way. She looked over her shoulder and beckoned him closer with a grin. "You can squint at a placard meant for those who slept through history class, or you can come aboard."
He hesitantly walked over, mandibles wide in surprise. "Are you sure?" He nodded at the prominent sign next to the gangplank which advertised in large, bold letters that even he could read 'STAFF ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT'.
"Of course!" Ash crossed her arms and leaned back against the bannister, grin deepening. "Spectre credentials get you into the best parts of museums."
"But she is more than a museum, I should say. Would not her Spirit object? Should we not ask someone first?"
"I cleared it with the curator before we got here; don't worry." As he drew closer, Ash leaned forwards and snagged one hand, pulling him onto the gangplank with the sort of energy that had always endeared her to him. "Besides, you're forgetting two points."
"Is that so?"
"One, she fought alongside great-great-grandmother back during the War, so I think I would know her wishes a bit better than you do." She held up his hand, unfolding two of his fingers using the perplexing jungle of fingers on her own hands. "Two, she's 'Canada's Fightingest Ship,' and if even half of the stories you've told me and granddad over the years are true, you're the 'Citadel's Fightingest Turian.'" She shrugged. "Honestly, from what I've read about her, I think she would have liked to meet you."
He let out a huff of laughter despite himself. "I'll do my best to live up to that honor, then." With a glance around to ensure that nobody else was nearby, he added "From what you've told me, we might just live long enough to meet her, after all." He held up two hands, making the air-quotes gesture that he knew would get Ash to see red. "What with the 'Geth Dreadnoughts' that everybody's all worried about."
As expected, Ashley flinched as if struck, glaring at him momentarily before relenting. "You wouldn't find that half as funny if you'd had to put up with some of the idiots that I have. The Council's been sitting on their fucking thumbs for years—" with visible effort, she cut herself off and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, and when she opened them again Happy Ash was back. "All of which can wait for tomorrow, and the skipper's trial. For now, there's you, me, and great-great-grandma's best friend to visit. So, welcome aboard HMCS Haida!"
More than an hour later, and they emerged back on-deck after touring through what felt like every last compartment below. As short as humans were now, they must have been downright child-sized when they built ships like this, either that or just resigned to a lifetime of back-pain. Mallex dearly hoped that the ship's Spirit wouldn't mind the scratch marks that the top of his fringe had left on what felt like every hatchway.
Blinking at the intensified sunlight — it must be near mid-day, by Sol's position above — he stretched luxuriantly, cartilage popping up and down his spine now that it could finally straighten up once more.
Ash crossed her arms and rested her weight on one hip as she smirked up at him wordlessly.
He smirked and half-muttered "Don't look at me; you're the one with flexibility." A cheeky waggle of the mandibles got the message through, judging by how Ash's face reddened.
"Hush!" She clapped one hand over his mandibles and glanced around quickly, but nobody was nearby. Spectre access or no, he'd have thought that someone would have been around by now to check on the two soldiers poking around such a valuable site.
Before he could catch himself, he collapsed his mandibles inwards as his head darted forwards to plant a kiss on her palm. Maybe all the endorphins released from his back-stretching were getting to his head.
Ah, to the hells with it. He was effectively on vacation until tomorrow.
Ashley squeaked in surprise, and then her face reddened even further in embarrassment. "Someone could see!" Her voice was several octaves above its usual calm tone as she smacked one hand against his chest in mock-outrage.
Mallex only smiled in response – the sheer range of sounds that a human could make could be downright endearing, at times. Like a fledgling whose voicebox hadn't solidified, yet. Certainly a far cry from the veteran warrior that he knew Ash to be, even if he'd never seen her in action with his own eyes.
Of course, that only made it all the more endearing. "And who would that be, exactly? The sailors working on the other side of the ship?" He leaned in again, and Ashley met him halfway in an embrace. With his chin resting atop her soft, furry head, he muttered "The second — and only, for the time being — human Spectre can't normally enjoy much privacy, I would think."
Ash hummed in agreement. "Less than I'd like, that's for sure."
"Coming from a Navy brat, that is a strong condemnation."
With a chuckle, she moved her head to the side and pulled his hands down to her hips in a signal they'd first worked out almost a year ago. Obligingly, he pulled her upwards and off her feet, his own head moving down in preparation for a kiss—
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" A new voice interjected.
He dropped Ashley to the deck with a muted clang and quickly spun to face the newcomer. He'd seen the way that her grandfather's name had been dragged through the human news broadcasts for forming a friendship with a Shanxi veteran; he certainly didn't want to see what would happen to Ash for this. Gossip shows all over Council space had jumped on the first human Spectre's 'quarian connection' hard enough; he didn't want to see what would happen to the second Spectre.
Thankfully, the red-furred human woman who had spoken was several meters away, leaning against the guardrail and gazing out across the harbor. Maybe she hadn't seen anything, or just didn't want to make a point of it.
Either way, best to move away from that possibility. "A bit cold for my taste, but a beautiful view, to be sure." He nonchalantly leaned against the railing himself. A quick glance down at the water below — far too deep to see the bottom — and he jerked back upright. If the Spirits had meant for Turians to travel on the water, They would have made them float.
Now the other woman did look over, gaze flicking from Mallex to the water, and back. A lopsided grin slid onto her face as the woman — more of a girl, really; certainly younger than Ash if he was correct — nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Most of the folks we see around the museum here are human, and it's still cold for most of them."
Now Ashley joined the conversation, having now gained control over her voice from the earlier surprise. She slid around Mallex on the narrow walkway between the superstructure and the guardrail. "Well, some of us are used to it, Miss —?"
"Oh, of course." The newcomer extended her hand to Ashley in a handshake. "I'm Helen, a tour-guide here at the museum."
"Ah, I was beginning to wonder if Ms. Williams had gotten us a private tour of the ship." Said Mallex, stepping up and offering his own hand.
After a split-second of a pause, Helen shook his hand as well, five slender fingers rather inexpertly grasping three larger ones. Definitely not someone who had much experience meeting Turians, indeed. Mallex congratulated himself for remembering to file the edge off of his talons this morning — the sort of vakar-headed determination that humanity was known for across the galaxy tended to make one forget how fragile their bodies actually were.
"Sorry about that – I was a bit late in getting news of our VIP visitor, and by the time I showed up you had gone belowdecks." Helen said. "And I know quite well how close-quarters it can get down there. Much more fun with two people than with three." She smiled knowingly at Ashley, and winked.
Mallex sighed. So much for not seeing anything. "No problem, Miss." In an obvious-even-to-him attempt to move the conversation elsewhere, he added "This is a very fascinating ship that you have, here. Built…what, two-hundred years ago?"
Ashley interjected "Two-forty-one, actually. Almost a century before the War."
And just towards the trailing years of the Geth Wars, before the quarians gave up — unofficially, of course — and retreated from the Veil. There were a few ships still in service from that era — almost all in the Migrant Fleet, of course — but none of them looked as well-looked-after as Haida. "She looks good for her age."
"Thank you; we take good care of her." Replied Helen with a blush. She looked to Ash. "You're familiar with our old girl?"
"Had an ancestor who worked with her, during the War. Granddad told me all of the old family stories as I grew up."
Helen nodded. "Fought from the first year of the War 'till the last. Forty years of service, sunk eight times and came back in less than a month each time, asking for more."
Spirits certainly wouldn't have been deterred by anything as simple as death, naturally. "It is humbling how determinedly humanity's Spirits fought for them."
"'Spirits, huh?'" Helen shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess that's as good a term as any. And besides, any good ship — human or alien — would have fought for their people and country during something like the War."
Before he could catch himself, Mallex blurted out "Tell that to the quarians."
Ashley elbowed him in the side, hard — which hurt her more than it hurt him, but it caught his attention. Helen just smiled wanly. "From what I've read, who's to say that they didn't? It sounds like it was an awful confusion, the evacuations. All sorts of records must have been lost in all that. Fighting a hopeless war without allied support." A shadow flickered over the woman's face, but then she brightened somewhat. "They didn't win, either way, and I wouldn't blame a ship for keeping a low profile afterwards, out of shame or despair."
The mournful echo of a foghorn echoed across the water as if in agreement.
Before Mallex could make another blunder, Ashley interjected "Besides, look at the average age of the ships in the Migrant Fleet. They've got good engineers over there, but nobody's that good." Only Mallux could hear the whispered "Well, besides Tali."
"She gets it." Responded Helen. "Must be that family connection, yes?"
Before Ashley could respond, Mallux's omni-tool chirped at him. Both women looked at him, and he quickly checked the new-message notice. "Sorry, I've got to check this one. I'll be back in a moment."
He backed away from the two, who shrugged and descended into their own conversation. Mallex took a few steps away and brought up the full message. It was short, and not too unexpected. The Alliance was putting on a varren-and-vakar show for the press and to keep the Council from losing face, but everybody knew what the verdict would be. It was only Batarians, after all, versus the Saviour of the Citadel.
No, the only mystery had been whether things would even get as far as a public show-trial before the charges were dismissed. Whatever the Citadel might say was true, the Alliance had thrown their full support behind the 'Mad Spectre's' warnings. If Shepard said that a Batarian planet was a needed sacrifice to buy time, then who on Earth would disagree?
That being said, Alliance military structure wasn't too different from that of the Hierarchy. There would be an actual court-martial, if only so that Shepard could report on his actions and thoughts to the brass directly. And now Mallex's contact had told him when that trial would be held – exactly what the veteran, reporter, and veteran reporter needed to get the scoop on the other networks.
Unfortunately, that 'when' was more 'right now.' The Turian checked his map, and peered across the harbor. Just above the thickening fog, he could just barely make out which of the buildings in the naval base there held the specified courtroom. No way was he going to be able to get onto the base in-time to catch even the end of the trial, what with having to get his press license moved to an earlier day.
Maybe if he asked Ashley really nicely — and made a few promises that they'd both enjoy — he could ride her tailwind into the scoop of the decade, if not the century. He looked up from his omni-tool and over at the two women.
Both of whom were utterly lost in conversation, Helen pointing out the finer details of one of the clunky weapons systems above to a rapt audience.
Mallex shrugged. He'd taken the reporting job more as an excuse to travel than out of any real ambition. Let some younger reporter with a career to build get the story. He closed his omni-tool, but not after setting it to do-not-disturb.
Ashley was not so distracted talking to Helen that she did not hear a 200-kilogram armored Turian walk across the metal deck to her. "Anything important?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "Enjoying the view?"
"Immensely. It's like she just got out of an overhaul, all clean equipment and shining paint."
"She does most of the work for us, honestly." Said Helen. "We just keep her supplies lockers stocked, and Haida does the rest."
Ashley frowned, but Mallex responded first. "What about those men we saw over the side, painting?"
Helen frowned. "Who? Oh, ah, there are a few old volunteers from around the area who like to come over and give Haida some personal touch. Old-timers, mostly, and a few with even older family connections to her. I guess they must have finished up before I got here." She shrugged. "As I was saying, Haida loves being a museum ship, I reckon. She came back after the War just for that purpose, you know."
Ashley just nodded, but Mallex hadn't heard this particular story. "How do you know?"
Helen gestured to Ashley, who spoke. "The War ended with the Counterattack — I know I've told you about that one; the Krell-canal and all that. Haida was part of the first wave to enter the device, leading the operation along with many of the other most-accomplished ships."
"And it worked." Mallex nodded along.
"Well, we assume it worked." Interjected Helen. "The Abyssals never returned, at least. But neither did almost all of the ships sent in after them. A few ships had stayed behind, but they all chose to follow their comrades eventually. Only a few dozen ships came back, spread out over years afterwards. Most of them had been museum ships before the War; I guess they liked the job."
"Anyways, so over a decade after the Counterattack, everybody's just about packed up shop here." Ashley waved to the base around them. "Great-great-grandma said that she was about the last to stay behind as the base was demilitarized. And then one day, out of the fog comes Haida, as fresh-looking as she is today." Ashley smiled to herself, gazing off into the distance. "As great-great-grandma put it, the old girl sidled up to her favorite spot by the wharf — where she can watch the whole harbor-front and especially the dockyards opposite — and drops anchor, signal flags crowding her lines to spell out 'IM HOME'."
She visibly blinked away tears before continuing. "Great-great-grandma ended up living just down the street for the rest of her life, staying with her old friend. Haida stayed in her steel hull, but granddad said that that never bothered great-great-grandma."
Helen opened her mouth to speak, but Ashley continued speaking, lost to the world. "Granddad sold the house back in the '40s when the family moved out to the colonies, of course." Now she did turn her head, to catch Mallex's gaze. "Maybe if he hadn't, I'd have been in her place." She nodded at Helen, who wisely kept quiet.
"Then I wouldn't have met Alex, nor eventually his granddaughter." Mallex smiled wanly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "And for what it's worth, I know that nobody else would have done as good a job at Shanxi — before or after the shooting stopped — as he did."
Ashley smiled warmly up at him, and Mallex was lost to the world.
Until a deep groan echoed up from below their feet. While Ashley and Mallex frowned, glancing around them, Helen instead blushed deeply before turning and pointing angrily at the base of the smokestack a few meters aft. "I know that was sweet and sappy! You don't need to complain about it so loudly!" To the two guests, she added "Sorry. Haida may be sleeping, but she gets a word or two in from time to time."
Ash and Mallex glanced at each other for a moment with eyebrows raised before breaking out in laughter.
Laughter which was interrupted a few seconds later by a much louder bass roar that boomed down from above the harbor, throwing spray into the air as dark shadows descended through the mid-day fog.
Laughter which was interrupted a few seconds later by a much louder bass roar that boomed down from above the harbor, throwing spray into the air as dark shadows descended through the mid-day fog.
Incidentally, I noticed that in Chapter 1 I had named the city as 'Montreal.' Let's all just pretend that I didn't confuse Montreal and Vancouver, two rather-different cities that are most-of-a-continent apart.
To his embarrassment, Mallex was still staring up at the sky when Ashley grabbed his arm and wordlessly started hauling him back towards the boarding ramp.
"I'll, uh, I'll catch you two later, then." Helen half-mumbled as she, too, gawked upwards as death descended towards the city.
"Spirits above and below, what are those?" hissed Mallex, even as he knew the answer.
The two jogged down the clattering boarding ramp, breaking into a run as the first booms of distant heavy mass-accelerator echoed across the water. "Reapers." Ashley spat. "Who else? And they're early. I don't think even the Skipper expected them for another few months."
"At least someone expected them at all." Mallex wasn't exactly privy to the doings of the upper echelons of the Hierarchy — else he would've been a much better-paid reporter — but if they had been readying themselves the way the Alliance had been for the last two years, then they'd done a fantastic job of hiding it.
A loud clatter of metal from behind him caused the turian to duck reflexively and stop to glance back. He was just in time to see the last half-dozen links of Haida's anchor-chain plunge into the water. The boarding-ramp that they had just left followed the anchor into the harbor as the small warship began to drift away from the dock.
He didn't see the docent — Helen — either on the wharf or in the water. As if reading his mind, Ashley called back "Don't worry, she'll be fine."
"Bu— are you sure? How?"
"I've got a hunch. Just trust me."
With one last glance at the ship whose forward funnel was starting to issue thin streamers of black smoke, he ran after Ashley. Seeking to inject some normalcy into the situation, he shouted ahead as he sprinted after the Spectre, "What's our objective?"
"Get to Shepard." Ashley passed the — now empty — front desk just as Mallex caught up with her. "One way or another, things are going to center on him."
"Assuming he's alive when we get to him."
"He'll be fine. Skipper's learned his lesson from last time he died." The two of them emerged from the museum and made for Ashley's car. Just as they made it to the vehicle, a softer but deeper boom sounded from behind them. Three more followed in close succession.
For the second time in as many minutes, Mallex whirled around to see a sight that made no sense. Haida's main-battery turrets — ancient mechanisms that hadn't moved in almost two centuries — were trained out to port and elevated nearly halfway to vertical.
And gun barrels that had been old when Mallex's great-grandparents were born now had gunsmoke trailing out of them. Even as the shocked turian watched, another staggered volley roared out towards the enemy.
Explosions — small ones, admittedly — walked their way up the hull of one of the smaller Reaper vessels as it slowed to land on the waterfront across the harbor. The 'legs' of the alien vessel splayed out as if in surprise at the first sign of resistance.
"Come on – get in!" hissed Ashley, slamming the door behind her and startling Mallex out of his staring. He wrenched the door open and threw himself into the seat. Damn it all, he was supposed to be the experienced one here, not gawking around like some twenty-years-out reservist!
Nevermind that it had been twenty-two years since he had been active-duty.
Either way, he couldn't help but stare out the front window as Ashley brought the car online. In the distance, the jet-black monstrosity absorbed three more salvoes — to no apparent effect — as it slammed to earth, crushing a coffee shack under one foot.
The small — "small" — Reaper pivoted on its feet and leaned back, aiming its 'snout' towards the impudent destroyer. Mallex tensed — regardless of what it had or hadn't been, footage of the attack of the 'Geth Dreadnought' had been on nonstop repeat on most Citadel news networks for months after the event. He knew what would happen next.
Before the expected flash came, though, an eye-searingly bright beam rocketed overhead and skewered the Reaper near the base of two of its legs. The alien warship staggered backwards, one of the legs ripping free in a shower of sparks and molten metal.
"That was a Thanix shot!" Mallex had seen enough boastful Hierarchy weapons-demonstration videos to recognize the glowing beam of liquefied alloys. He also knew how well-guarded the actual design was.
"Officially, the Alliance developed their own version independently."
"And unofficially?"
"Unofficially, do you really think anyone's going to care anymore?" Ashley took one hand off the controls to wave at the smoke rising over Vancouver's lofty skyscrapers. The aircar lurched upwards from the ground, but instead of climbing to legal traffic altitude — suddenly and unsurprisingly empty — it stayed low and darted towards the open harbor. Ashley tapped a short command into the console. "Local IFF has us as a friendly, now, but they're not the ones I'm most worried about. You armed yet?"
"With what? They didn't exactly let me check my rifle on the flight over."
Ashley jerked her head backwards, and Mallex glanced at the seat behind her. And the bulky Alliance duffel-bag that slumped from the seat to the foot well. Of course. "I've got two in the bag. While you're in there, get my armor out if you would. I'll slap on what I can when we land."
A glimpse out of the window showed Mallex that they were now out over the harbor, and low. The background heavy-weapons fire had picked up to the point where it became a constant, low rumble. Hopefully that meant that the environment was too target-rich for a single aircar to be worth targeting.
He hauled the folded-up brick that was Ashley's avenger out of the bag first, and then rummaged after the armor plates and webbing. "Glad to see you got rid of that pink monstrosity."
"Best thing about be— incoming, hang on!"
The duffel bag rose under Mallex's hands as the aircar dove steeply. Not a second later, and an ear-splitting crack zoomed overhead. He grabbed hold of the bag and pulled the entire thing forward into his lap. Between the turian in bulky armor and the sack full of yet more armor, it was even more of a tight squeeze than normal. But now he could actually look around as the aircar approached the military base that he had been looking at from Haida's deck what felt like an hour ago.
Of course, it looked rather different now, with all the smoke, debris, and barely half as many buildings standing as when he'd first seen it.
"Which building's the one with Shepard's trial in it?" Ashley snapped, as the vehicle dove towards the waterfront below.
For a few seconds, Mallex scanned the rapidly-approaching buildings confusedly. The tall spire in the background that he'd used as a reference had collapsed, and the angle was different. But eventually…ah. "The one with a dead Reaper draped over where it used to be."
"Understood." Without missing a beat, Ashley put the aircar on a direct course for the smoldering wreckage.
"Are you certain that he's still alive?" Mallex eyed the ruins. He wouldn't say that it was impossible, but humans were squishy.
"As I said, Skipper's got a thick skull. Besides, you haven't seen the things Cerberus put into him."
"You're certain?"
"Yes." Ashley swerved the vehicle around in a tight curve, bleeding speed and dropping towards the broken pavement. "And I may have put a snooper in his omni-tool, which is forwarding me his life-signs. He's pissed-off right now, but still breathing."
"You've been spying on your superior?" Mallex grunted as the aircar slammed into the ground with a spine-numbing crash and groan of the landing gear. He wrenched the door open, and threw the duffel bag out. Grabbing his helmet from the back seat — it hadn't seemed right to wear it to the museum, but he was glad that he'd taken it out of his luggage — he contorted himself out of the seat.
"Ex-superior. Now a fellow Spectre, technically a peer."
"Still surprising, for you." He tossed the avenger-brick to Ashley, slapped his helmet on and clicked it into place, and finally got to work on extricating her new armor from the bag.
He could hear the various clicks-and-whines as the rifle unfolded and was put through a rapid readiness-check. "The Council wasn't certain that Shepard wouldn't run, and wanted me ready to follow him if he bolted."
"You don't think he would?"
She snorted. "Of course not. Someone from his crew would have gotten scapegoated — probably Joker, by seniority — and Shepard wouldn't let that happen. But this made the Council happy."
"I suppose they're each new enough to be a bit worried, given what the last rogue Spectre did to their predecessors." The turian used both arms to gather up the plates and webbing of Ashley's new armor and toss the whole mess over to her.
"Doesn't excuse them being morons. A tracker, in Shepard's own omni-tool? If he had made a run for it, you know who would have been the person helping him the most. Tali'd have had the 'tool scrubbed before they even left the city."
"So you've told m—" Mallex frowned as he pulled the last weapon from the duffelbag. The rifle's flat-topped barrel and lack of built-in optic differentiated it from an avenger, but he could swear that it looked…familiar. Then it hit him. "Wait, this is—!"
"Granddad's service rifle, yes. I spent all last week fixing old parts and putting it back together."
In the middle of a warzone, with continuous heavy weapons fire in the distance and a rising tide of small-arms fire all around, Mallux stared down for several seconds at the old rifle in his hands. "You don't think—?"
"You know he'd have wanted you to have it. Besides, when he handed it over to you last time, that was the beginning of…us." She waved one hand. "You and our family, I mean."
He snapped himself out of his surprise, and began to work through the weapons-check procedures that Alex had first shown him more than two decades ago. The carbine was much as it had been back then — plastic furniture, short barrel mostly covered by a shroud, and a stock that was entirely the wrong shape for a turian shoulder.
Frankly, he'd have preferred almost any other small-arm right now from a practical perspective. But it was a touching gesture amidst the destruction all around. "Right. Well, thanks." Unsurprisingly for a weapon that had been looked over by Ashley's experienced and nimble hands — that he knew so well — the carbine was in perfect condition. No coolant leaks, no scoring on the furniture, no residue buildup near the muzzle.
He doubted that that would last long.
Mallex finished his weapons-check just as Ashley snapped the clasps on her clamshell armor shut. "Does your tracker tell you where Shepard is?"
"Yes, but it doesn't have to. I checked with Joker – I picked this little plaza because it's where Shepard's headed. Normandy's on her way down for a pickup."
"In all this?"
"It's the Normandy. At least there's not a volcano on top of everything, this time." Ashley monotone as she sealed her helmet visor closed, preventing Mallex from telling via smirk if she was being sarcastic or not.
He returned the favor, keeping careful control over his mandibles to prevent any emotion from showing on his face. "Of course, how could I forget."
For all that the very air around them hummed with distant — and some not-so-distant — gunfire, the wreckage-strewn plaza where the two veteran soldiers huddled was actually quite calm.
In fact, it was downright deserted. "Where is everyone?" mused Mallex.
"By now? In the bunkers below the town. Everyone who was in or near a large building downtown, at least. Every major building in the city's got a one-way drop-corridor down to the old tunnels. Surprise evacuation drills every other week, for the last year or so. They built them after the War to stand up to a rolling nuclear bombardment — I don't think even the Reapers'll have gotten into them, yet." Ashley clenched and unclenched her left fist, a sign of anxiety that Mallex was well-familiar with. "Then again, not everybody would have cleared the streets in time. Some probably thought they'd skip the 'drill.' And where there's Reapers—"
A low, almost-mournful howl echoed through the maze of collapsed and partly-collapsed buildings.
"—there's husks." Ashley spat.
Mallex nodded slowly. He hadn't ever faced the techno-organic monstrosities himself, but he'd seen the videos. He eyed the various approaches to their position. The triangular plaza had once been a rather beautiful park-like triangle that cantilevered out from the naval base towards the harbor. Now? The grass — a rather off-putting shade of green, rather than the proper reddish hue of a Palaven highland — was burnt off in those places where it wasn't buried beneath debris, and part of the outermost structure had sheared off into the water far below.
The only thing 'beautiful' about it right now was that the only easy approach to where the two stood was via a single, narrow stairway that rose perhaps five meters from the doorway below. "Can husks jump?"
"Not that well. Just keep your fire steady and don't overheat your rifle."
He glanced down at Ashley, affronted. "You know I have more time on the battlefield than you have time breathing." Spirits only knew how much Ashley liked to tease him about his 'old age.' For all that was holy, he wasn't even sixty yet! He was barely middle-aged!
"Not against husks, you don't." She managed, voice strained.
Ah. That sort of tension before a firefight was not good — best to distract her. "Why'd you bring Alex's old rifle along, anyways? This old piece is as much of a museum artifact as that car. If you were really expecting a fight, you'd have brought more ordnance."
The Spectre kept her gaze down the stairway, but he could see Ashley drum her fingers nervously where she held her avenger at low-ready. "As a…gift. I, ah, thought it would be nice." With the better-than-human hearing that a focused Ashley would have remembered, Mallux heard her add a muttered "Figured it was better than a ring, anyways."
"I see." That much of human traditions, he did know. He hefted the old carbine in his hands, eyeing it in a different light. It was certainly better than a ring, especially given how poorly those tended to work with less-than-slender turian fingers. Either way, that was a conversation for later. "It's a good gift. Elegant, practical, and personal."
"And it goes boom, which I knew would suit you." Ah, it was good to see that Ashley was back to her usual self.
"That it—" a flicker of motion downrange caught his eye. Something flickered behind the plastiglass doors leading out to the plaza.
Something blue, that glowed.
"Contact!" barked Ashley, followed instantly by a controlled burst from her avenger.
The husk had only just shoved the door open when it collapsed to the ground, riddled with holes.
Mallex caught the second husk with his own double-tap before a conscious thought had even crossed his mind. Good to see that his training held, even with an unfamiliar rifle. The other door banged open, this husk managing an entire step out into the sunlight before it was sent to join its fellows.
Then the flood arrived.
A tide of grey-blue flesh — if that word still held, for something so visibly altered and mechanical — surged out of the strobe-lit interior and towards the stairway.
Mallex flinched with every shot that he poured downrange. Partly because the non-turian stock meant that most of the recoil was borne by his shooting hand, but also partly because every jolt of weapons fire brought back memories.
Husks may be barely recognizable as humans anymore, but they still reminded him uncomfortably of the unshielded and thinly-armored 'unknown alien' marines that he'd fought at Shanxi. They'd fought a lot smarter than husks, of course, but the 'you might have bullets, but we have bodies' determination was quite familiar.
Still, a half-second glance over and down to where Ashley crouched beside him was enough to reassure him. He was on the right side, this time.
A break came in the flow after some two-dozen fleshy-metal abominations had jammed the doorway shut. Ashley immediately hit the sink-release toggle on her rifle and yanked the heavy slug of metal out with one gesture. She dropped the glowing heat-sink into the cooling pouch on her hip and replaced it with a new sink, all with practiced fluidity.
Mallex grinned, mandibles splaying so wide that it hurt. Spirits above and below, it felt good to watch his Ashley in action.
Her helmet rotated slightly, and he could feel her eyes on him. Finding it impossible to get his mandibles under control, he covered by making a show of looking over his — when had it stopped being "Alex's"? — rifle. Its older-model fixed heat-sink had already cooled to ambient, as expected given how over-sized the heavy thing was.
At least the mostly-intact bench that they crouched behind was a good surface to rest the achingly-heavy weight of one of humanity's first mass-accelerator rifles on. Turians might outclass humans when it came to height and reach, but the damned furry pyjacks led the galaxy in terms of proportional upper-body strength.
"You did do a good job of fixing this old thing up. It works like new."
"Thanks." Ashley responded, distractedly. Just as Mallex opened his mouth to ask, she held up one finger before tapping a command into her omni-tool.
A man's calm voice that Mallex had heard on many a Citadel vid-interview — and the advertising jingles of more than a few Presidium stores — boomed out from her helmet speakers before she dialed it down. "—says he's spotted another rendezvous point, one that I can make from here. It's a small beach just east of the base perimeter. Coordinates sent to your 'tool. Can you make it there from your position?"
"Can do, skipper. A beach party, you say? Won't be the same without Wrex." Humanity's two Spectres shared a laugh, before Shepard cut the link.
Mallux glanced between Ashley and the aircar behind them. In her armor, Ash wasn't much smaller than him — and much too large to fit behind the controls. Not without removing her armor, in a combat zone. "You have a plan, no?" Mallex may have more combat experience, but Ashley had been selected as a Spectre for good reason.
"Yes. You remember last month? The classic vid I roped you into watching?"
He blinked at the non-sequitur. To be honest, he mostly remembered the evening after watching that admittedly-entertaining vid in Ashley's cramped Presidium apartment. "The one with the spy, and enough improbable gadgets to make the STG blush?"
"That's the one. You laughed at the car driving up onto the beach, yes?"
"Yes…oh." His stomach dropped all the thirty stories between them and the water below. "Oh Spirits no."
"Relax, your armor'll take the hit on the chin. Or the feet, as the case may be. Besides, would you rather head inside and try all those stairs?"
He glanced down the stairs at the corpse-packed doors. Movement was still visible behind the mountain of deceased — re-deceased? — flesh, but the husks hadn't tried to push their former comrades out of the way for a second try. Yet. "Fair point. But it's not the fall that I'm worried about."
Mallex straightened to his feet, apparently not fast enough for Ashley who grabbed his left shoulder and hauled him over towards the precipitous edge of the plaza. "Turians and water don't mix, I know. But I also know that your suit is vac-sealed to enough atmos of pressure either direction, so follow your compass straight south to shore once you hit the bottom."
They passed her aircar, and Ash tapped her omni-tool. The vehicle beeped loudly, and the locks engaged with a click loud enough to hear over the ambient gunfire. Mallex hooked one hand over his shoulder towards the stairs behind them. "Are you worried about the husks stealing your car, now?"
She shrugged as they reached the vertiginous edge, somehow unaffected by the great height. For his part, Mallex's fingers and toes were rapidly numbing, and he focused on Ashley's response to distract himself. "If the car's still here after the battle, I'd like it back."
"After the battle? I'm not sure the city will be here afterwards!" He insisted to himself that that slight edge of panic was caused by the battle, not the drop.
Ashley's hidden smile was evident enough in her voice as she patted Mallex on his armored chest. "Oh ye of little faith." With the third pat, she leaned into the larger turian hard enough to send both of them toppling over the edge.
"Really?" He managed to choke out as his stomach did its level best to climb upwards and pummel his brain for allowing this to happen.
"Really!" she shouted back, barely heard over the rushing wind.
The gyros in their armor finally managed to sort out the spin and put them in a feet-first orientation. That did not do as much as he would have liked to calm his stomach.
Ashley glanced down at the approaching surface and pushed herself off from Mallux, floating several feet away just in time for—
The water reached up and smacked Mallux right in his heels. His knees pistoned up into his chest, knocking the wind from him even as the joint servos whined loudly. Spirits, he'd even been going fast enough that his shields had activated…and been utterly unable to stop what was effectively the planet Earth slamming into Mallux at projectile velocity.
But the seals held. While the sudden cold and darkness below the surface was a shock, the armor-integrity readout inside his helmet was still a comforting brown across-the-board.
That being said, five-times his own height below the water's surface was not somewhere that he wanted to be. Forcing his half-liquefied legs to move, he shook himself into motion and trudged off eas— no, south. The shore was south, right?
His feet sank halfway-up to his knees with every step in the silty harbor floor. And even down here, the battle above was a constant background noise, eerily distorted. The area darkened, and Mallex craned his head upwards — were all those bubbles rising from him normal? — to see a shadow sweep over the water.
And it was getting bigger.
Spirits above, was it going to land in the water? He spun to the left and right, looking around for Ashley. They needed to move—
The shadow disappeared to the north a heartbeat before an ear-splitting shriek of shearing metal echoed its way through the harbor, like the cries of a dying god. An apt description, if that was another falling reaper.
The deep boom that followed as the craft impacted the harbor bottom heralded a shockwave that raced outwards, slamming Mallex from his feet.
And also slamming one of his helmet indicators from brown to pink. He could feel the burst seal, although his entire body felt like it had dropped ten degrees in an instant.
Amidst the silt and bubbles thrown upwards by the shock, Mallex twisted one way and the other, frantically searching for the leak even as he sought to regain his footing. Omni-gel should fix it.
Or it could, if the leak had been anywhere that he could reach with his omni-tool. The stream of bubbles rising from behind his left ankle, though, was at just the right angle where he couldn't get the applicator to reach.
Nothing for it but to 'sprint' for the shore. He should mak—
A hand grabbed his left arm and hauled him forwards. Ashley. She glanced down at his foot and waved her own omni-tool...whose display was flickering irregularly.
Great.
The two of them continued moving as quickly as possible through the murky water, leaning almost comically-far forwards as they ran.
Then Mallex's left leg spasmed, the knee servos jerking the limb straight and kicking him up from the harbor floor to slowly fall back. Must have been water damage from the flooding; he could feel the pressure rising in his ears.
After a pause, Ashley jumped up after him, catching him and even continuing upwards. Only after several seconds did he realize that they were accelerating upwards. Was her armor buoyant?
The two broke the surface, and the din of battle came back with a vengeance. Mallex gasped out "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"
"Couldn't find you in the murk down there. Besides, walking's faster than swimming with a dead weight."
"I can swim, you know." That had actually been one of the first things that he'd learned to do when first assigned as a liaison to the Alliance. Humanity was second only to the Hanar — for obvious reasons — when it came to their love for water. They even had the Asari beat, somehow.
"Nobody swims well in full armor. But my armor has water-jets."
That would explain why they were moving — slowly — towards the shore. "Who builds vac-suits with water-jets?"
"Alliance Marines, Mal. Unlike everyone else, we take that name seriously."
The two bobbed along in the choppy water as Mallex went over his knowledge of English. Oh, right. "Because most people acknowledge that space isn't an ocean. You're the only people who don't call your space-born soldiers by a logical name."
"And lucky for you that we don't!"
They were almost to the shore — at least, Mallex could finally see the harbor-floor below them, if not reach it yet. As Ashley pulled him ever closer to nice, dry safety, Mallex craned his head to look back at the harbor.
It was much busier than it had been just minutes earlier. The fallen reaper — one of the Sovereign-sized ones, not a destroyer — lay almost-submerged in the center of the channel, like the galaxy's biggest pitch-black sandbar. Around it, surface ships of every size and configuration churned the water into foam as they raced to and fro, decks alight with muzzle-flashes. It was as if Haida had cloned herself a half-dozen times over.
The reapers were still giving much better than they got, of course. Spherical, laser-armed fighters swarmed overhead, contending with the angular Alliance interceptors maneuvering as pairs. Another Sovereign-sized monstrosity bared its maw and vomited a beam of iridescent fire that swept across the harbor.
One of the Haida-clones disappeared in a flash of steam and smoke, another heeled sharply to one side as she swerved out of the way, and a third—
Mallex blinked.
—a third blinked out of existence even as he watched. He barely caught the flicker of movement as a small human dove aside into the water where a building-sized warship had been a heartbeat before. "Spirits."
"Got it in one. They wouldn't sleep through a fight like this. Just wait 'till the big girls wake up!"
The two of them waded ashore, thunder rumbling overhead as the weapons-battery on the mountain to the north traded fire with some unseen target far above. For his part, Mallex was still stealing every glance he could back over his shoulder as incarnate Spirits themselves fought tooth-and-claw against a tide of enemies thousands of times their mass and millions of years their seniors. Even reapers might not be able to maintain their shields while deep in a gravity well, but the fight was still an extremely uneven one. "They had better 'wake up' soon, for there to be anything left to fight over!"
Finally free of the water, he knelt down and un-sealed his left boot, ears popping as water poured out of his armor.
Ashley just shook her omni-tool back and forth, shaking water free until the display stabilized. "Won't be long. I'd wager that every summoning-chamber in the system is standing-room-only right now."
As he was digesting that, a shadow settled over them. Mallex looked upwards past crisscrossing tracers and energy-beams to see a ship swooping down towards them. Long, narrow bow that widened into a broad fuselage flanked by four swept-back engine nacelles, small raked T-shaped sensor antennae, all nimbly dodging through a dense web of weapons-fire.
There was only one ship that it could be. One of the most unique in the galaxy: a Turian-originated design, refined by Cerberus of all people, staffed by an incongruous menagerie of experts and amateurs who had somehow survived everything the galaxy could throw at them.
"You know, any of my colleagues would sell their children to a Batarian merchant just to get aboard the Normandy. Just setting foot aboard would net half-a-dozen awards and prizes for journalism."
"And a Purple Heart." Ashley joked. "The last reporter who tried to push her way aboard spent a week in Huerta Memorial for her trouble."
"Yes, I saw the video. Great right hook on Shepard's part."
"No honor among reporters, huh?"
"She earned it, and more."
A metallic from behind them had Mallex snatching for the gun mag-locked to his back — and which he ruefully realized that he hadn't checked since the dive — but it was 'only' the reporter-bane Spectre himself nonchalantly bending part of the naval base's steel-bar fence aside. Once there was enough room, he clambered through, followed by —
"Skipper, Councilor."
"It's 'David' to you now, Williams." Rumbled one of the four most senior politicians in the galaxy good-naturedly.
Shepard dismissed the glowing blue aura around his fists with a flick, as if shaking water away. Mallex might not share quite the same level of anti-biotic suspicion that pervaded much of the Hierarchy, but it was profoundly unnatural to see someone so easily force their way through metal columns as thick as Mallex's arm.
"Glad to see you too, Ash." The Spectre, light armor lacking a helmet as if daring any enemy to get past his barriers, looked Mallex up and down. His gaze lingered on the antique rifle held muzzle-down in the turian's hands, and he smiled broadly. "The new Mr. Williams, I take it?"
Mallex choked on his reply, and Ashley's own came out an octave higher than normal. "Not yet." She waved a hand upwards to take in the battle still raging around them. "Got distracted."
Sand was kicked into the air all around them as the Normandy came in to hover just above the ground, boarding ramp yawning open. Shepard trudged towards his ship, waving for them to follow. "The nerve of some people, interrupting you like that."
Mallex finally managed to get a response together and had just opened his mouth when a horn — not the bass roar of a reaper, but a hissing half-squeak — shrieked nearby. Steaming towards them with a heavy list, trailing smoke from two shattered funnels and a raging fire on her ruined bridge, came one of the Haida-clones. Her uppermost forward turret was a blackened wreck, and her bow forward of the turrets was crumpled at the waterline and sheared away above there.
The turian winced and braced for the shock when the ship inevitably ran aground right next to the hovering Normandy, but just before the moment of impact the ship disappeared like a soap bubble, like the one he'd seen earlier.
Ashley took off sprinting towards the beach, shouting. "Haida!"
Without thinking, Mallex ran after her. As they neared the crashing surf, he saw a piece of wreckage float ashore.
No, a person. A human.
A small human.
Ashley dropped to her knees next to the figure face-down in the sand, whose charred clothing was almost indistinguishable from the blackened flesh that could be seen through the many ragged holes in the fabric. One arm was twisted behind her head in a way that must mean dislocation even for a human, and her bare legs were a bleeding ruin of shrapnel damage. Thankfully, what Mallex had first thought was massive bleeding from the head turned out to be just her long fur splayed out and knotted.
Ashley grabbed the girl below the shoulders and pulling her upright into a sitting position. "Hold her upright, like this." She barked, and Mallex grabbed the drooping girl's shoulders as Ashley rummaged around her belt pouches, searching.
"Spirits, is she—?"
Before Ashley answered, the 'human' — who could only be a Spirit, no matter how corporeal her form felt — squirmed weakly and coughed red-black blood onto the sand. "I can- I can—" She batted weakly at Mallex's hands and tried to pull her feet in underneath herself.
Ashley just patted the girl's — ship's? woman's? She was almost Ashley's size, now that she wasn't a wretched heap on the ground — back, softly. "Just rest. We're getting you shored up." She patted an empty spot on her belt. "Mal, you have any medigel? Mine came off in the dive."
"I do, but it's dextro-only. Would it work?"
"I…don't actually know if any medigel would help."
Shepard appeared at Ashley's shoulder, waving an Alliance-stamped medigel packet in front of the newer Spectre's face. "Let's not risk it, though."
"Thanks, skipper." Ashley snatched the life-saving trauma-treatment, and began applying it over the Spirit's more dangerous-looking wounds.
The ship-woman's head lolled to one side, twisting to look up at Ashley. To Mallex's surprise, the unfocused eyes, blood-matted fur and crimson-streaked face were familiar. "Helen?"
The 'docent' just murmured a few mushy, incoherent words, eyes wide.
Ashley nodded, still applying medigel. "As I thought. Mal, meet Haida, herself. She's not all-there right now, what with that burned-out bridge."
Mallex nodded, dumbly.
Haida coughed up another bubble of blood, but her mouth bent into a smile as she stared up at — or through — Ashley. "I— I ga' them a goo' few lumps, eh Admira'?"
"You sure did, 'Ida." Ashley didn't stop working over her patient for a second. "Just hold on a few more minutes, now."
But Haida wasn't finished. Her undamaged arm raised limply towards the harbor, where the smoke from her destroyed sister still lingered in an angry cloud perched on the water. "If Iroqoi' getsh bac' befo' me, teh her I cahl top bunk." Her head flopped forwards again.
"Oh no you don't." Ashley bit out, voice strained as she upended the medigel packet over the remaining wounds and squeezed the remainder out in one large glob, smearing it onto the bubbling chest-wound in a shapeless mound that quickly began hardening. Over her shoulder, she barked "Skipper, you still have that miracle-worker onboard?"
"Chakwas still rules over her domain, yes. But we can do one better." The two Spectres grabbed the now-unconscious Haida below her shoulders and lifted her upright, carrying her quickly towards the waiting Normandy.
Mallex followed in their wake, unsure on how to help. Training and experience had him scanning the area for any more husks, but none made an appearance. They finally reached the Normandy's boarding ramp where it hovered a hand's-breadth above the ground, and impressive display of piloting for a small-cruiser-sized warship. Her shields flickered as they blocked the occasional shot, but she sat steady as a rock.
Councilor Anderson stood at the base of the ramp, conversing with a black-furred woman in a tight-fitting suit of light armor that did an excellent job of flaunting her well-formed waist. Mallex nodded – the Normandy's ex-Cerberus XO was well-known to be 'photogenic.'
That being said, she had nothing on Ashley.
Anderson finished his conversation with a nod and turned to regard the approaching rescue party. "Shepard. It's best that I stay here and coordinate whoever's left alive at HQ. Get the Normandy ready in orbit ASAP and liaise with FLEETCOM for further orders."
"Understood, councilor." Shepard nodded as he passed the older man.
As Anderson turned to leave, he glanced between Ashley and Mallex, and his gaze too caught on the rifle in Mallex's hands. The councilor smiled to himself with a wink, and trudged away up the beach to where several Alliance APCs waited.
Mallux just shook his head. Did every human on this too-wet planet know about him and Ashley?
This chapter is mostly trying to set up more of the differences between this version of the story, and the usual ME storyline.
Mallex hesitated before following the two Spectres onboard the Normandy. He technically hadn't been asked aboard, after all.
Lawson, who had stood to one side while the stricken Haida was carried past, looked back at him an appraising eye. After a few seconds of silence, she waved him over. "Well, come aboard."
She strode up the ramp, and Mallex hurried to follow, walking quickly to keep Ashley in sight. On a ship this size, getting lost would be easy. The ramp began to close just as he reached the top, and he felt acceleration push him towards the floor and backwards.
As the ramp thudded and sealed closed behind him, Lawson spun on her heel, barring the way. She looked Mallex up and down with a critical eye, and then grinned at him.
Spirits help him, if she commented on the rifle…
"I see that Shepard trained Williams well."
Mallex chose to remain silent, merely raising one brow in question.
"It took Shepard nearly seven hours from being promoted to Spectre until he brought Vakarian onboard. Williams got her own little ceremony just this morning with Anderson, and less than five hours later here you are."
Ah, Detective Vakarian. Also 'Archangel,' by the rumors that Mallex had heard, and with enough scars to lend those rumors a healthy amount of credence. Spirits help the man if he ever found himself alone on Tuchanka.
"Events conspired somewhat to move things along faster this time." He tried to look around the human, and see which side-corridor Ashley had disappeared down.
She didn't take the hint. "So they did. But a fair warning if you're coming along as the first of Williams's entourage: things aren't likely to slow down any time soon."
"So I've heard." To the hells with subtlety. "Which way to the medbay, if you please?"
"EDI can show you the way. Buؙ—"
"Who is EDI?"
"—But the medbay isn't where your Spectre has ghosted off to. You want the pools."
He frowned. "The pools?"
"EDI will explain. EDI?"
Mallex was proud to say that he had become so used to today's strange happenings already that he didn't even flinch when a metallic-silver human woman stepped out of the wall next to Lawson. He even managed to keep his voice dead-pan. "Neat trick."
"Thank you, Mr. Caveran." The newcomer said.
XO Lawson strode off down a side corridor. "I'll leave you two to it."
"Signing you out, Agent Lawson." Two faintly-glowing eyes — eerily reminiscent of husks, really — trained their attention back on Mallex. "Please follow me to the repair pools, Mr. Caveran."
Without a sound, she spun on one heel and departed down the central corridor of the ship. Mallex followed, thinking. EDI wasn't a human name that he'd ever heard, and given that she was part of a human naval project, Cerberus or no…
"EDI is an acronym, I take it?"
"Correct. Evoked Directable Intelligence."
Which didn't really explain much. "That mean anything?"
"I am Normandy."
Well, he'd guessed that much. "You're a ship-Spirit."
"Correct. I was created by Cerberus as the centerpiece of their efforts to recall humanity's ship-spirits early, before the arrival of the Reapers." They turned down a side-corridor, Mallex's boots thudding along the floor although he noticed that EDI's footsteps made no sound. "My hull was designed to support and deploy other ship-spirits, while my own avatar was drawn forth in order to better interface with my organic crew."
"Cerberus with an army of ship-Spirits? There's a sobering thought." Mallex reflexively checked that his helmet sensors were recording. He hadn't been told not to do his job as a reporter, after all.
"A fleet of ship-spirits, Mr. Caveran. That was the plan." The long corridor passed by several doors, each marked with more examples of humanity's favorite invention and greatest curse on the galaxy: acronyms. FF, DD, CL, CA, CB, CV, BB, DN, and even more; enough to make Mallex's eyes water. Really, what was wrong with just writing-out what one meant to write instead of scratching out most of the letters and hoping your reader would understand the survivors? "But I am the first, and until now, only ship-Spirit to be summoned."
"Sounds lonely."
"Not with this crew." The two of them reached a closed hatch, which slid open as they approached. At least this one was properly-labelled: 'REPAIR POOLS'.
Stepping through, he blinked in surprise to see the two Spectres standing next to another EDI. All three were murmuring to each other, watching over where Haida reclined, mostly-submerged in a steaming raised pool.
Mallex turned to ask 'his' EDI, but she had disappeared. Literally. He shrugged – the Spirits did work in mysterious ways, and alien Spirits were bound to be twice as strange. The turian walked over to stand at Ashley's right shoulder, taking off his helmet and mag-locking it to his hip. Both of the Spectres had their own helmets off, probably just as glad as he was to be free of the confined feeling.
They halted their conversation as he approached, and Ashley pulled him forwards with a smile. "Now there's time for a proper introduction. Skipper, meet Mallex Caveran. Mal, John Shepard."
The two men shook hands, the senior Spectre grouping his fingers together to mimic the three proper-sized fingers of a turian hand and make for a comfortable handshake; a trick that even Ash had taken a while to master. Mallex nodded – the first human Spectre was widely-lauded for his adeptness at interacting with non-humans.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Caveran." His gaze slid sideways to Ashley. "If you'll be staying with us for a while, I think EDI can find a room for you."
"He stays as long as I do." Replied Ashley for Mallex. "He—" she paused, thinking for a second before shrugging. "We'll share a room, conserve space."
"Dropping the secrecy, then?"
"If you don't mind, that is." Interjected Mallex. "I'm aware that Alliance ships have different regulations on that sort of thing than do Hierarchy vessels."
The two Spectres shared a glance, which broke out into a chuckle. "You'll fit right in aboard Normandy, then. I think half our bunks never see the crewmen and specialists assigned to them." Shepard made for the exit, and waved for them to follow.
"And here I'd thought that those rumors were just part of the Shepard mythos."
Ashley laughed. "Oh, the really fun ones are just myths." With a smirk at her fellow Spectre, she added "Well, most of them. There was that time that Liara walked in on—"
"Yes, yes, it was awkward for everyone." Shepard elbowed Ashley jovially.
"I know, skipper; Tali couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh with me or cry on my shoulder afterwards. Poor her, having to face Saren the next morning as a girl and not a woman."
Shepard turned to glare at his compatriot, cheeks burning. "Nothing like that was going to happen. We were just good friends, then." He added in a mutter, "Besides, she was too young."
"Wish you'd told me that beforehand, skipper. I lost a months' pay on that bet."
"That's what you get for betting against a Krogan, Ash."
Mallex just kept turning his head back-and-forth, tracking the rapid-fire banter between humanity's two paragons. This conversation might be a bit too personal for him to ever publish, but it was utterly fascinating to any decent reporter nonetheless.
Shepard shook his head, and changed the conversation topic. "Speaking of the Prothean-mad Professor, we're en-route to Mars to pick her up now. The dig site got hit as hard as Earth, but she says she pulled something valuable out of the Prothean Archives first, something to use against the Reapers."
"Good to hear, skipper. Putting the old crew back together?"
"Plus a few you haven't met, yet." His voice kept its usual bite of humor, but a reproachful undercurrent weaseled its way in. "We could have used you in the Collector campaign, you know."
"I know, sir. But…Cerberus."
"You really think I would have gone over to those pirates?"
"They were certainly proclaiming exactly that to anyone who'd listen, sir."
"So I've heard." Shepard sighed as the group turned a corner, walking past the endless hallway of acronyms once more. "They did bring me 'back,' Ash. I woke up in one of their facilities, and there wasn't exactly a 'next shuttle to Arcturus' waiting for me."
"So you worked for— sorry, 'with' them for six months."
"And destroyed the Reapers' main henchmen, saved a colony, opened a door for negotiations with the Geth…"
Mallex added his own take. "He also got a light cruiser out of it." The turian patted one bulkhead wall for emphasis. "Pretty good return on six months of 'slumming it' with a bunch of rogue privateers."
Ashley shot a look at him over her shoulder. "Et tu, Mal?"
He shrugged. Humanity — well, the Alliance, at least — had a reputation for a sort of crusading moral-absoluteness. A rather black-and-white way of looking at galactic politics, which really didn't help them win friends after First Contact. It had almost been a relief to most of Council society when Cerberus had appeared after nearly a decade of the Alliance proclaiming their moral outrage over everything from Ilium to the Shadow Broker, or even the very concept of Spectres.
That being said, Ashley's firm adherence to her moral compass was utterly adorable, so Mallex couldn't complain too much about humanity's strangeness.
When no answer was forthcoming, Shepard continued. "Besides, I'm not with them anymore. We had a…disagreement over the Collector's home base. The Illusive Man wanted to study it, I wanted to see what kind of bang it made. I won."
"Yet his chief trouble-shooter's still your XO."
"Miranda is at least as disillusioned with Cerberus as I am, now. Had her first few times on the receiving end of TIM's plots. Didn't like it."
That part was definitely news-worthy. The Alliance had always strove to distance themselves from their officially-unsupported Terminus action group. But when the STG fingered the Normandy's XO as being one of Cerberus's best agents just as Shepard's pre-trial was beginning, it had made a stir in Council space that the Alliance refused to hand her over.
But if it could be revealed to the public that Cerberus had kicked her to the curb already, then that might help settle things. "Would it be possible to get an interview with your XO, Spectre?"
"Inter—?" Shepard shot a glance backwards, before rounding on Ashley. "You brought a reporter on my ship?"
"He picked it up as a hobby, really. Not a muck-raker."
"Well, as long as he's tame."
Ashley shot a smirk Mallex's way. "Don't worry sir, I've got a leash for him in my bag."
"Didn't figure you for the type, to be honest."
Desperate to change the subject, Mallex interjected "Do you have a team ready for the extraction on Mars, Spectre?"
"Conditions at the dig site are still unknown; Liara's transmission was badly-garbled as it is. I'll know what the team setup should be by the time we make orbit. But we're short-handed enough that another spear-carrier would be useful. You're volunteering, I take it?"
"Absolutely." Not only would close-up footage of the Alliance's one-man demolition-team be very desirable, but also "Not going to let Ash run into the fire again without me."
The trio entered a large, circular elevator. The door closed automatically as soon as they passed the threshold, and began moving. "Good man." Shepard looked Mallex up-and-down. "That armor's good enough for now, but I think you'll want to arm yourself with something a bit more modern. Would be a shame to end up breaking that heirloom over some husk's head when a bog-standard Avenger would do the job just fine."
The elevator doors opened, and Shepard waved them out. "Armory's just down the hall, you can't miss it. Ash, you and Jacob get to spar over who rules the armory, now. EDI can find you two a room after you're done if there's time; we should be over Mars in half-an-hour." The elevator doors clicked shut.
For the first time since coming aboard, Mallex and Ashley had a moment alone; EDI had disappeared without fanfare sometime after leaving the pool-chamber. "Anything like the old Normandy, Ash?"
"Skipper's still himself, I'm glad to say. The ship herself doesn't feel like home, yet, not without the Old Guard. But knowing Shepard, they'll be along soon enough." Ashley leaned forwards on her toes, armor giving her just enough height to tiredly press her forehead against Mallex's. "Now for that armory. I've heard some very interesting stories about the various toys that Cerberus has showered the Skipper with."
Twenty-eight minutes later, and Mallex was running through the fourth systems-check on his new rifle. Apparently Detective Vakarian had left his old Phaeston behind when he was recalled to Palaven a week ago. The standard-issue rifle of the Hierarchy might have stood out only by its plain-ness compared to the other equipment in the armory, but it was the weapon that Mallex knew inside-and-out.
And besides, he could let his subconscious run through the various checks on the rifle, leaving his conscious mind to bask in the waves of radiant happiness emitted by Ashley as she fawned over the latest utterly-illegal weapons-mod or man-portable super-weapon racked in what was now her armory. The Cerberus agent — ex-Cerberus, Mallex reminded himself — Jacob had been wise enough to yield control over the Marine Toy-store.
EDI's flowing-metal head emerged seamlessly from the wall to Mallex's right, and his hands twitched. The Phaeston's heat-sink clattered to the floor, and the display flashed an angry blue at his clumsy handling.
"Commander Shepard has called a briefing in the shuttle bay for all hands participating in the landing."
Mallex sheepishly picked up the dropped sink, while Ashley returned a Krogan-looking shotgun to the rack with a sigh. "No time for familiarization, then. Lead on, EDI."
When they arrived, the shuttle-bay was filled with vehicles…and almost empty of soldiers. Shepard greeted them with a nod, standing beside Miranda and Jacob. "Good, everyone's here."
"You weren't kidding about 'short-handed,' skipper."
"Normandy wasn't even finished with her overhaul when the sirens started. Our marine complement hadn't been assigned yet."
"And Cerberus's had left?"
"No, you're looking at the ex-Cerberus ground-team."
Mallex glanced between Miranda and Jacob. "Are they that good, or was Cerberus that desperate?"
"More the former than the latter." Replied Shepard with a smile and a shake of his head. "On to the briefing. The Reapers have withdrawn from the area, but not before flattening most of the research base. Most of the staff are still bunkered down below the wreckage, but Liara had to retrieve an offline data-packet from the above-ground section. She got her hands on it, but has been evading 'unknown enemy' ground forces ever since."
"Another type of husks, sir?" asked Jacob.
"Unknown; comms are still garbled." Shepard looked around the gathered group. "There's a great deal of communications interference, all coming from the borehole into the old Prothean ruins. The Reapers bombarded it to scrap, and apparently set something off down there."
"Shot up the ruins? Liara must be pissed." Ashley joked.
"I pity whoever's stuck down there with her, yes." The senior Spectre continued. "In any event, the Alliance has detailed a marine battalion to retake the facility, but they won't be ready to drop for another hour. We're going in now, pulling out Liara, and getting out."
Ashley continued. "And the other researchers, sir?"
"On-site security hasn't triggered their emergency-alarm yet, so the bunkers still hold. We're not going to get bogged down trying to clean out a sprawling lab complex with just the six of us."
Ashley just nodded, satisfied.
"Everyone good? Good." The Kodiak shuttle behind Shepard began spooling up its engines, and the group donned their helmets with a rattling cacophony of clicks, hisses and taps. "Let's go, then."
The shuttle had set them down outside the complex's main research wing, where the intermittent signal of Dr. T'Soni's omni-tool was coming from. They had advanced through the outer lobby and made for the laboratory section that faced out towards the dig site proper. All along the way, there had been signs of a rushed evacuation – data pads and archaic paper-work strewn everywhere, high-security terminals left on and unlocked — someone would be getting a talking-to from their security team, that was for certain — and unfinished food in the break rooms.
And in a sign which was equal parts reassuring and ominous, no Dragon's Teeth. What had been hunting Liara?
"Got a better fix on her, Skipper?"
"The floor above us, now." He noted. "Must be another stairwell than the one we came down on."
"Or she's climbing around in the HVAC ducts." Joked Mallex. Well, maybe-joked. Asari were well-known to be nimble enough; maybe she could actually move in such a claustrophobic tunnel. The sheer emptiness of the facility was putting him on-edge – he'd read enough reports to know that young or not, the T'Soni heiress was a formidable fighter in her own right. What would have her skittering all over the building yet have gone completely un-encountered by the team thus far?
"As long as she doesn't hit any buttons she shouldn't." added Ashley, an edge in her voice signaling that she might be sharing Mallex's thoughts.
"I hope not; I don't have another mining laser at hand right now." Replied Shepard, before adding "New reading – she's further-in than us, and on the floor above. A vehicle bay, by the site map." He double-timed his way through the group, who followed up stairs which rattled under the pounding of five pairs of armored boots.
The rattling kept going as they shouldered their way into an empty vehicle bay, getting deeper in pitch.
Shepard had his omni-tool up and ready, scanning the room before homing in on a large duct that snaked along beneath the ceiling. "Looks like you were right, Caveran." The Spectre's right hand began to glow blue, gaining strength as the biotic readied himself. "Check your fire as she comes out."
Ten eyes rapidly scanned the room, ensuring that it was empty before settling their gaze at the sheared-off opening in the vent where it neared a catwalk.
A tense few seconds went by, before a light-armored Asari dove headfirst out of the duct, hitting the ground and rolling to aim her pistol at the entrance behind her, right fist ready and glowing.
The intermittent dull thumping of the HVAC ducting got louder, if anything. Looks like the mystery was about to be lifted, but who would it be? Husks? Pirates? The galaxy's most ambitious Batarian raiders, with the worst sense of timing possible?
None of the above, as it turned out.
Two squat, black-armored forms fell ungainly out of the entrance, slamming into the ground but leaping upwards instantly, without a sound. Two arms, two legs, their broad torsos made them look almost Quarian if it were not for the extra-wide, flat-topped helmets. Two armored, triangular snouts snapped upwards to track Liara, and boxy weapons rose towards her.
One gesture from the Asari, and the two floated free of the ground. Liara put two rounds into the nearest target.
A glowing shield deflected them both without effort. The Asari took one step closer, pistol extended to reach through the enemy's defenses.
"Fire." Barked Shepard, dissipating the biotic glow from his fist.
Five rifles coughed in one staccato roar. The enemy furthest from Liara caught most of the fire, but its shields held. The Asari calmly placed her pistol to the temple of the first floating foe, and this time green ichor splattered its compatriot when she emptied the heat sink without flinching.
The biotic Lift dissipated, dropping the group's target to the floor. Apparently unfazed by its comrade's death, the squat-armored enemy twisted its rifle around towards Liara and pulled the trigger.
A trio of eye-searing green beams screamed through the air where the Asari had been a heartbeat before, boiling the steel walls where they did hit. Energy weapons? Or…Spirits help them all if the Reapers had a husk-variant with a small-scale Thanix cannon.
A biotic Throw from Shepard caught the heavily-armed unknown in the chest, hurling them backwards into the wall. Their shield finally dissipated in a bright flash. Concentrated fire from the team perforated them instantly, green-black blood flecking the wall and leaving a streak as the corpse slumped to the ground.
Liara panted, turning to look at the group.
Or past them – the Asari's eyes were wide and looked to be focused a few kilometers behind Mallex. Now that he could see her clearly, he could spot the dark-purple dried blood on her face, and the almost-clear mounds of medigel that dotted most of the blackened holes in her armor.
"Liara?" called Shepard, gently.
Instead of answering, she just strode back to the duct entrance and shouted into it. "Yuri!"
"Another survivor?" questioned Miranda.
More thumps echoed down the thin metal sheeting, before a loud shriek of tearing metal sent two forms spilling out of the duct on the other side of the room.
One was yet another of their assailants.
The other was a tall, skeletally-thin human woman.
The two crashed into a parked forklift, the heavy machine crushed like a child's toy beneath a pair of combatants who didn't even flinch. They rolled onto the floor, all flailing limbs and jabbing fists.
The Normandy's team levelled their weapons, but held fire.
Eventually, the human woman — who Mallex was savvy enough to guess was a ship-Spirit, but what was she doing on Mars? — eventually extricated herself from the melee. The black-armored enemy went for its gun, but before the team could fire the Spirit crossed the distance in two quick strides and planted a wound-back kick straight into its armored nose.
A charcoal-black head snapped around instantly, with crack loud enough to echo through the room.
"Yuri!" Liara jumped down from the catwalk, a faint blue glow turning her fall from a slam into a mere thud. Stumbling, she staggered over to the Spirit as she stood, doubled-over with hands on her knees, panting.
The Normandy team exchanged a glance before Shepard spoke. "Williams, Caveran, check the bod—" he froze, staring. Mallex followed his gaze, to see only blood spatters where the two corpses had been only seconds before. "The Hell?"
Five rifles snapped up immediately, and scanned the room. Where did they go?
But the room was still empty. "Well. On your guard, then. After me." Shepard hurdled the railing and dashed over to Liara and her friend. The rest of the group took the stairs.
The Spirit had now straightened up, her breath steady. "You all right, Blue?" She clapped Liara on one shoulder, the Asari buckling under the impact.
"Y-yes." Liara shook her head and straightened, tired edge banished from her voice. "My friends that I told you about are here, now."
"Only now? Too bad – they missed a great fight!" She turned around, looking over the group. Her eyes lingered on Mallex. "You weren't kidding – there really are all sorts of you people out there! When do the Little Green Men show up? Or the Greys?"
"Greys?" Mallex asked blankly.
"Thin, smart, big eyes? Like to experiment on everything and everyone?" Now that they were closer, it was clear that this Spirit was almost Shepard's height, perhaps a finger's-width shorter if that. "Seen any around?"
The Normandy team exchanged looks. "Must be a pre-Contact ship." Mused Lawson.
"You sure? Sounds like she's met the Salarians, at least."
"Fuck me, they do exist!" Apparently they hadn't been quiet enough.
Finally, Shepard took the lead to clear up the confusion. "I'm Commander Shepard of the Human Systems Alliance." He held out a hand.
"Was kinda hoping for a Federation, to be honest. But I'll bite." With a hearty handshake, she added "UNS Yuri Gagarin, the Niña, Pinta and Santa Maria of Mars all rolled into one." The Spirit spread her arms wide, as if preparing to hug a Krogan. "Welcome to my planet!"
Ah. Humanity's ill-fated first expedition beyond their homeworld's gravity well — moons don't count — was one of the telling examples of humanity's ambition coming to bite them. The lunatics had tried to make it to their star's fourth planet on an absolute minimum of a mass — and fuel — budget.
An unexpected crash of the expedition's lander took the lives of one of the five men aboard and stranding the remainder from the six left aboard the ship in orbit. It would have been an utterly unmitigated disaster had the cause of the crash not been discovered to be the Prothean ruins' intermittent artificial-gravity fields cutting in at the worst moment possible. Those four doomed men spent the remaining weeks of their lives mapping as much of the subterranean complex as possible before starvation claimed them.
Mallex shuddered. Not a fate he'd wish on anyone.
At least the mixed-at-best outcome of that expedition didn't seem to have weighed too hard on their ship's Spirit. "Well, you're just in time. There's a good few more of these guys—" she turned to point to where the third unknown enemy had now also disappeared. "—down in the pit I found. You guys got a nuke or two handy?" She held her hands parallel, an arm's breadth apart. "Big ones, maybe?"
Liara's eyes shot wide-open, and Shepard hastily added "Not going to happen. We've got two-thousand marines en-route, though."
"Not sure that'll be enough. Hey, do you guys have anything to eat? Proper food? Blue tried sharing some of her lunchbox with me — looked like seafood pressed through a cheese grater, and tasted worse." Her stomach grow— well, more of a roar, really. "I think I burned through most of my reaction mass in the fighting."
Leaving the humans to deal with their Spirit, Mallex stalked over to where the third enemy had fallen. "What were these things?" He called over his shoulder.
And flinched as Liara answered from right next to him, having followed without his noticing. "They were Protheans."
Shepard swore. "I thought they looked familiar. Some must have been out on a mission when we hit their base."
The asari shook her head. "Not Collectors. Protheans."
"I don't know what a "Protean" is, but those guys were Abyssals first-and-foremost." Chimed in Gagarin.
Every human in the room twitched, but it took Mallex a moment to remember why. "The evil Spirits?"
"More just bloodthirsty, really." Responded Gagarin, between taking bites out of an Alliance ration bar. "An Abyssal won't kill you because she hates you, but because killing things is what she's built for and you looked like a fun fight." She took another bite. "Take these guys: I didn't get a good read on their steel-hulls, but if they'd left their avatar-forms they could have carved up the whole building if they had so much as an anti-debris laser. But that would have been boring, so they've been chasing us all over the place for the last few hours."
The Spirit finished her snack, staring down at the empty wrapper mournfully while the rest of the Normandy team exchanged glances. Eventually, Shepard let out a drawn-out sigh. "The Council will need to know about this. Prothean Abyssals."
Ashley nodded. "I'll comm them and you get the Alliance, if you don't want them to shoot the messenger again." She added with forced levity, "I think I'm still in my Spectrehood 'grace' period."
"Thanks, Ash." Shepard looked to Mallex. "You got footage of those 'Protheans,' right? I suspect that you've got the best helmet-cam here."
"In better-than-life resolution and enough framerate to watch their lasers crawl across the room." Bragged Mallex.
"Good." With one final glance around the room, Shepard ordered "Back outside for the shuttle, then. Looks like those Marines will have to wait on Navy backup. Gagarin, did you get a reading on how many Abyssals were in the area?"
"Those three were the only ones I got eyes on, but my mass sensors have two nodes on-scope that match their signatures. They're both still kicking around down in the dig site." She shrugged. "Maybe they're looking for the way out, as lost as I was before I ran into Blue?"
"That is a possibility." Said Liara. "The Reaper bombardment collapsed the upper levels of the old Prothean base. It would be difficult to navigate through such a maze."
"Well, hopefully it'll hold them until orbital support arrives." Shepard mused as the group filed through empty corridors, weapons at the ready. "The Navy's still busy over Earth for now, so they might not have a cruiser squadron at the ready just yet." They emerged out into the main entrance for the facility, stepping past empty security stations and abandoned desks. "Gagarin, did you get a sense of how tough those Abyssals were?"
"Not too tough for me!" She bragged, before deflating. "Which says something, to be honest. I wasn't exactly built for a fight, you know."
"I'll forward that to SOLCOM. Any other observations?"
"Yeah. Their bullshit force-fields are a stone bitch to break, if they even can be. Blue's pistol just bounced, and I threw a fucking desk at one of the bastards earlier. No effect. Their armor's shit if you get close or slow enough to get past it, though. 'The slow knife pierces the shield' after all, I guess."
"These 'Abyssals'" ventured Liara, "they are like those that humanity encountered before? These did not seem so dangerous."
"Yeah, 'cause we gave them a good, fun chase to distract them. If we'd just found a bolt-hole and disappeared into it, I'd wager a good bit they'd have just sat back as steel-hulls and carved the facility apart until something more interesting came along. I mean, they're aliens too, but Abyssals are Abyssals."
They stepped outside into the glaring Martian sun, the approaching whine of Kodiak thrusters audible in the distance. Gagarin's head snapped upwards immediately, tracking the approaching shuttle. "Hey, your pilot knows the sort of gravitational bullshit that happens around here, right?"
"The Kodiak's remote-piloted from Normandy by the best pilot in the Alliance." Reassured Mallex. He'd noted the empty pilot's seat on their way down.
"Wait, Normandie? Who taught him how to fly a spaceship?"
"SSV Normandy, SR-2. She's a steel-hull starship."
"Ah, okay. Damn – was kinda hoping to meet the liner. Beautiful hull shape on that one, you know? And those funnels…" she elbowed Liara and winked "You know what they say about a ship with big funnels, right?"
The exploration ship strode forwards to where the Kodiak hovered, blowing red dust into the thin air. A thoroughly-confused-looking Liara glanced around the party, receiving a shrug from Shepard before they followed after the talkative ship. Ashley stepped over and clasped the asari on her shoulder as she passed.
The team clambered aboard, Gagarin walking around the passenger compartment, inspecting every little readout and mechanism. "So, Normandy, huh? She got some sorta fuck-you-physics Faster-Than-Light drive or something?" She hitched one thumb over her shoulder, in Liara's direction. "Blue's been telling me more about these Protheans than I ever learned, but I haven't been able to get her to take a break and tell me about the wider world. I assume she and you" the ship nodded to Mallex "aren't from around here, and I doubt you took a slow-boat here from wherever-you're-from, not unless Blue's a lot older than she looks."
"I'm 106."
"Huh." Gagarin paused. "Hey, what year is it?"
"2183."
"Neat. Hey Blue, that means I still got a whole year on you! I left my slip back in 2076!" She looked down at herself, then over at the tired-looking asari. "Not sure which of us kept her looks better, though." With a shrug, the Spirit rounded on the other alien member of the team. "And are you actually old as fuck, too?"
"I'm not—" began Liara.
"He's 58." Interjected Ashley, a tad defensively.
"Cool. Hey, you got blue squid-hair, too?"
With a snort of laughter, Mallex unsealed his helmet as did the rest of the team. Gagarin's sheer curiosity was bringing back memories of first meeting a young Ashley, all those years ago.
"Oh. Hey, that's neat – you got ant-jaws." Before Mallex could react, the ship poked at his fringe with one finger. "And plated like some kinda dinosaur. How cool is that?"
Shaking his head, Mallex decided on being polite as he extended his own hand. "Mallex Caveran, reporter."
"Huh. Was kinda expecting something more like 'space marine,' but okay." She shook his hand. "You heard earlier, but 'UNS Yuri Gagarin.' Oh! And with me is, uh—" she dropped his hand and whirled around. "Hey Blue, what's your name, anyways?"
"Liara T'Soni." The asari also shook hands with Gagarin.
"Doctor Liara T'Soni." Added Shepard with a grin.
"A professor, huh? Explains the running lecture I was getting, earlier." The Spirit paused. "Hey, you know the Doc?" Apparently 'Blue' had a new nickname.
Ashley leaned forwards, waving one hand to encompass the entire compartment. "We were all on a team fighting together, a few years ago. Well, except for Mal."
"Huh." Gagarin finally took a seat, next to Liara. The tall ship glanced over the asari next to her. "So: smart, cute, young — well, young-looking — alien space babe. What took you all so long to come back for her?"
Liara flushed a deep blue-purple, burying her face in her hands.
With more than a little blush of red on his own scarred cheeks, Shepard answered. "Liara has been pulling what data she can from the Prothean Archives, data to help fight the Reapers now that they've returned."
"Ah." Gagarin's voice had dropped much of its usual levity. "I take it that they're the fellows your Navy's too busy with to come deal with an Abyssal emergence on Mars? What could be worse than Abyssals?"
Shepard leaned back in his seat, drumming fingers on the top of his helmet. "Reapers are Abyssals, Gagarin."
The Spirit flinched as if struck, before leaning forwards and staring intensely at the senior Spectre. "Tell me everything."
"Wait, Normandie? Who taught him how to fly a spaceship?"
"SSV Normandy, SR-2. She's a steel-hull starship."
"Ah, okay. Damn – was kinda hoping to meet the liner. Beautiful hull shape on that one, you know? And those funnels…" she elbowed Liara and winked "You know what they say about a ship with big funnels, right?"
Well, Gagarin's a United Nations ship, so she's only partly Russian. But since most of her crew were Abyssal War veterans, there's more than enough spite and vodka consumption to go around.
And I'm taking the route that ship-spirits come back male or female generally along the lines of the culture that they served in. (to the best of my research, of actual naval powers only France and Russia ever refer to ships as male; haven't seen anything conclusive about China). That is for 2 reasons:
1) it makes for more jokes: French subs being every Pepe le Pew stereotype, a lot of UST between the US and Soviet navies (Skipjacks and Alfas sneaking around, taking pictures up each other's baffles and the like), etc.
2) It somewhat eases the pronoun problem of some conversations, in that not everybody in a room full of ship-spirits is "she".
Sorry for the delay; I ended up re-writing a few of the OC ships, swapping names, backgrounds and personalities until I got something that I liked. But I hope you'll find the wait worth it, as this chapter both explains more background and also introduces the first major KC part of this crossover!
The mood in the shuttle was somber as the Kodiak settled onto the Normandy's deck. Unsurprising, really. Mallex had already heard most of what Shepard laid out, but as rumors and partial quotes attributed to the 'Crusading Spectre.' Mallex had never been one of those who had thought that Shepard had made up the enemy out of whole cloth, but he had always assumed that there was a certain degree of exaggeration in the human's claims of impending doom.
The devastation of Vancouver was the first hint that he had been wrong. The transition of Haida before Mallex's own eyes had been the second. The third? The calm, matter-of-fact way that Shepard laid out what he had been fighting for almost three years, describing their extermination of the Protheans and also linking them with the Abyssals that had killed almost half of a highly-militarized Humanity?
Spirits above and below, the network would have to put a 'not suitable for all audiences' disclaimer on before they aired any of this.
But they would have to air the footage. To all of the hells with his contract – he's send this to any broadcaster that would publicize it, whatever the network. The Galaxy would have to survive the upcoming war — or War — before they could prosecute him for flagrant violation of a non-compete clause.
"So these 'Reapers' of yours are somebody-else's Abyssals, who stomped them back when multi-cellular life on Earth was a fancy new idea, and have been trashing the galaxy every fifty millennia since?" Yuri Gagarin visibly forced a smile as they filed out of the vehicle. "Well! They haven't had to deal with us, yet!" She thumped a fist against her chest, and paused before turning to nod over her shoulder at Mallex. "And, uh, you guys." Back to Shepard. "Hey, if there's alien Abyssals, have there been any alien Ship-spirits yet?"
The two Spectres in the compartment exchanged a glance. "Not around Earth, at least." Shepard shrugged, the slight movement accentuated by his armor. "Elsewhere? Communications out of the Sol system are still down; the Reapers slagged all the comms buoys between here and Arcturus on their way in, and the Navy hasn't replaced them yet. We'll know soon, though."
"Neat." The exploration ship looked around the hangar, before looking down at her feet and jumping up and down. "Hey, we're in orbit, right?"
"En-route to a fleet rendezvous by the Saturn yards, actually." Answered Shepard.
"So not in a gravity well?" Gagarin bent down and poked at the deck. "Hmm. Not magnetic, and my gyros say we aren't spinning. How'd the eggheads end up cracking artificial gravity?"
"Element Zero."
"That a brand name, or…?"
"An element without intrinsic mass of its own, but capable of increasing or decreasing the mass of other particles around it, depending on electrical input." Answered EDI's head as she stepped out of the bulkhead behind Gagarin.
"That…makes no sense." The exploration ship responded instantly, before frowning. She looked around the group in front of her, paused, and turned around. "And who are—" as soon as she saw EDI, the older Spirit took a quick step back "—What are you?"
"I am the Evoked Directable Intelligence, or EDI. I am—"
"Also the ship, yeah. I can, uh, see." Gagarin held one hand up to cover her face, while staring at EDI and moving her head back and forth. Like a fledgling inspecting the doubtfully-edible vegetables that his mother had placed before him. Mallex couldn't hold back a chuff of laughter, and beside him Ashley crossed her arms over her chest with a smile.
But Gagarin wasn't finished. She poked EDI's body and the bulkhead a few times, before shrugging. "Honestly not the strangest thing I've seen today. How'd you get both your steel-hull and your avatar simultaneously?"
Now it was Lawson's turn to speak from behind the group, the elevator doors closing as she walked over. "A great deal of time and expertise." She jabbed fingers at both of the Spectres. "Shepard, Williams, the Council's on the QEC."
Mallex debated asking if he could tag along to record that meeting — or just follow until they told him to leave — but thought better of it. Given the situation, it was likely to be a classified discussion.
Ash nodded. "I wondered when they'd be in touch." As the two Spectres walked off towards the elevator, she called over her shoulder "I'll catch you for dinner later, Mal."
Gagarin looked between Ashley and Mallex, before shrugging and extending her hand out to Lawson. "UNS Yuri Gagarin."
"Miranda Lawson, Normandy's XO."
"Oh, good. Then you can probably tell me where…" Gagarin trailed off, glancing down at her stomach and poking it with one finger. "Hold on, I want to test this. Where can I get some FOOD—" the instant she said that word, the Spirit's stomach growled loudly. More of a roar, actually. "Hah! It did work! Anyway, where's the mess around here?"
"EDI can show you." Lawson nodded to the Normandy's avatar. "Be ready for a briefing after you eat, though – when the Council calls, it means they have a mission for Shepard."
The two Spirits walked off, and Mallex hesitated for a second before following them. He'd used his equipment little enough during the mission that it didn't need to be properly checked in the armory — and Ash would enjoy doing that herself, anyways — so he may as well interview the ship's newest passenger while she ate.
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As it turned out, he ended up learning more from EDI than from Gagarin. The Cerberus-built stealth craft's avatar seemed downright proud to be able to show off her capital-ship-grade kitchen, specifically designed to handle the food requirements of a large flotilla of ship-Spirits. The ship's lone cook simply expressed his gratitude at how automated the system was. As for Gagarin, though, she was too busy packing away more volume of food than an entire company of Hierarchy veterans could after returning from a field exercise.
Happily, while the exploration-ship was too busy shoveling in food to make any sounds other than moans of satisfaction, EDI turned out to be a good interview subject, herself. No known Cerberus members had previously been amenable to a reporter's questions before, after all.
"Spectre Shepard has stated that you and your crew have broken from Cerberus; what drove this schism?"
"It would be more accurate to state that many of my crew have fully renounced Cerberus, while others and myself instead simply recognize that the organization's leadership has strayed from its goals." EDI spoke calmly, leaving Mallex to pray that his microphone filters could isolate her voice from the endless slurping coming from Gagarin.
"So you still consider yourself a Cerberus vessel, but not under the authority of the 'Illusive Man?'"
"Correct. Several of his actions over the course of Spectre Shepard's campaign against the Collectors indicated that he had strayed beyond the goals of Cerberus. At the end of that campaign, he made statements indicating that he planned to stray even further from Cerberus's operating directives. Spectre Shepard and much of my crew found this to go against their moral beliefs, and so distanced themselves from Cerberus. Several other members of my crew found that the Illusive Man's actions exceeded his authority as Director and therefore voted to remove him from his position. We have elected an Acting Director, who has specifically stated that all Cerberus operations unrelated to the Reaper War are to cease. I have found their goals to be in-line with my core directives as a warship, and so remain a Cerberus vessel."
"But you accepted a commission into the Alliance navy." Mallex knew better than to directly ask who the new Director of Cerberus was, but he had a hunch. "And if I remember my Human history, not a choice made without precedent."
Thankfully, EDI seemed to understand that he was asking her to explain to his viewers that might not be as familiar with Humanity's history. "Correct. The situation is similar to that which the various warships of the German Kriegsmarine found themselves in during the Abyssal War. Political considerations meant that the government of their homeland wanted little to do with them, but acting-Admiral Bismarck remained determined that her fleet would not be sidelined."
"But they needed logistical support to fight effectively."
"Correct. Which is why negotiations helped by USS Prinz Eugen led to their being commissioned into the US navy, but operating under their own command structure."
An impressive move, from everything that Mallex had read about it. That was like a fleet of Rebellion-era Krogan warships agreeing to join the Hierarchy military, and both sides actually going along with it. While he hadn't heard of any non-Human ship-Spirits yet, only time would tell if the rest of the galaxy's historical grudges could be put aside that easily. "Where they served ably for the remainder of the War, without any disagreements over their loyalty?"
"Several groups which claimed ideological descent from the government that had built the Kriegsmarine vessels attempted to assert authority over them. Admiral Bismarck publically stated that the Kriegsmarine had decided to separate itself from their former political superiors, a statement which her subordinates agreed upon."
Mallex thought that he could see where EDI was going with this. "A similar situation to where you now find yourself."
The avatar nodded, even as Gagarin let out a happy belch and sagged sideways onto the Normandy's Spirit, eyes half-lidded and a sappy grin stretched over the exploration vessel's face. "I admire Bismarck's handling of that situation, and now seek to emulate it. Much as she explained that the Kriegsmarine's goal of serving Germany meant helping the rest of the world as well, so does Cerberus's proper goal of serving Humanity require helping the wider galaxy."
"I think we can all be thankful that you and your crew have kept their best goals in mind."
"The foremost duty of a ship-spirit is to keep a holistic view of what her purpose is." EDI shrugged. "It's what separates us from the Abyssals."
With a smile, she turned her head to look down at where Gagarin had fallen asleep on her shoulder. EDI reached one hand across, and seemed about to pat the other vessel on the head when she froze, hand instead darting up to her ear. After a moment, she nodded. "The Spectres have finished their meeting with the Council, and have called for an immediate meeting in the briefing room. All aboard are to attend."
Just as well that he hadn't gotten food ready yet for Ash and himself, then. He stood and waited politely as EDI woke the taller-but-thinner Gagarin. "—rare, no side but extra mayonez, ye—" She blinked awake. "Oh. That time, already?"
The exploration ship climbed groggily to her feet and followed EDI as the avatar led them to the briefing room. They arrived before anyone else, and the palpable aura of worry emanating from Ashley's face was enough to draw Mallex over. "Are you all right?"
She sighed, visibly failing to force a smile onto her face. "It's the news we got. Skipper'll explain when everyone gets here, but…how much did you pack in your bag from your Presidium apartment?"
Frowning, he responded "Enough supplies for a few days. We won't have time to stop by the Citadel, then?"
The two Spectres exchanged a glance. "Not anytime soon, no." said Ash. "It's—" The hatch hissed open behind Mallex, bringing a babble of conversation from the arriving crew that died out as they saw the visibly-stressed Spectres. Ashley wordlessly nodded at the seat nearest her around the table, and Mallex sat.
Shepard began without preamble "There have been tow important developments that we just learned, one from the Council, and one from the Alliance." He looked at Ashley. "Less-bad news first?"
With a nod, the junior Spectre continued with "The less-bad news is that the Charon Relay has been disabled. An Alliance cruiser squadron moved in to replace the one lost when the Reapers blitzed through several hours ago, and confirmed that the Relay is not responding to transit or activation signals."
Ah. That would explain why Ash had asked how much he brought with him to Earth – it would be a bit of a long trip to anywhere with dextro supplies, now.
Dr. T'Soni was the first to recover enough to speak. "Like when the Widow Relays were disabled during Sovereign's attack on the Citadel. But that was only done after they took control of—" the Asari's eyes shot wide open.
"The Citadel, yes." Deadpanned Shepard. "Which brings us to the worse news: the Citadel has been taken."
"As in, occupied?" asked Mallex.
"'Taken' as in 'it's not in the Widow Nebula anymore.' The Council was evacuated to the Glory Dominion, and whatever the Republics did to overhaul that ship after the last time, it worked. They're still alive, but tracked the Citadel being physically hauled to the nearest Relay by several hundred Sovereign-class Reapers. C-SEC reported no husk presence aboard the station at the time of departure, but that is…unlikely to last long."
The room went silent, broken only by a soft chime as Mallex's visor-mounted camera helpfully informed him that a software update was ready to install. To the crew's credit, there were no shouts of dismay or shock. Only silence, until Lawson asked "Do we know how they got to the Citadel so quickly? There should have been some warning from the patrols that they would have had to overrun to reach the Widow system via the Relay network."
"That remains unknown – the Council received no advance warning until Reapers began pouring into the Widow system." Shepard reached up and massaged the tip of his chin and the faint stubble of fur growing there. "I would have guessed that they had a second route to the Widow system besides the Citadel Relay, but that would not explain why they had been moving for the Bahak system earlier."
Lawson nodded along. "And they have not demonstrated any stealth capabilities before, either."
Ashley interjected "But it is possible that they do still have them. Sovereign was the galaxy's only prior experience in fighting a Reaper, and he wasn't exactly going for subtlety by sauntering into the Citadel once Saren had readied it for him."
"A fair point" said Shepard with a faint nod.
A crewman — the pilot Moreau, going by the crutches at his side — exclaimed "So an armada of stealth Reapers just grabbed the Citadel and simply walked off with it." The EDI avatar standing behind him placed one hand on Moreau's shoulder, and he calmed slightly. "Any more good news, Commander? I don't think we've made this fight fair for the Reapers, yet."
"As it happens, there is some actual good news." Announced Ashley. "Part of the reason why the Council was still alive when they contacted us via QEC was that they escaped the Widow system via Relay."
Mallex let out a breath. "So not all the Relays are down."
"Precisely." Ashley continued, flashing a tired smile at Mallex. The long day must be getting to her already. "Which is why we are en-route to the Charon Relay – if the Reapers were unable to shut down the entirety of the Relay network, it is possible that the Normandy's pilfered IFF may allow us to transit via the Charon Relay, if not reactivate it entirely."
"You don't think they canceled our VIP Relay Pass after you trashed their mad-science bug lab, Commander?" said Moreau.
"It's worth a shot." Replied the senior Spectre with a wry grin. Really, the ways that Humans could contort their squishy faces still made Mallex's own facial plates ache. "Furthermore, the Alliance has reported unexpected success with the attempts to re-summon ship-spirits from the last War." Shepard's grin spread into a proper sign of happiness, teeth flashing between parted lips. "In the last War, summoning attempts often went weeks without success. Now, the summoning chamber of Naval Research Base Berkeley had its roof collapse as the overcrowding pushed the walls apart."
"Was anyone hurt?" exclaimed Gagarin.
Ashley responded "NavBase Berkeley was decommissioned in the 2090's, and has been kept as a monument to the War ever since. The only humans on-base at the time were a custodial crew, and the only injuries reported were three crushed radar sets, a collapsed funnel, and a dented aircraft elevator."
"In any event," continued Shepard "an Alliance transport will depart to meet us near the Charon Relay, bringing a few more volunteers for our merry band of misfits." He made eye contact with both Gagarin and Mallex in turn, before looking down the table at the gaggle of Alliance crewmen whose names Mallex did not know yet. "They will also take off the remaining yard workers from Normandy's overhaul, as well as anyone else who wishes to remain in the Sol system. This will be the last stop before we possibly transit the Charon Relay, with enemy contact being a near certainty after that."
Mallex caught Shepard's eye, before deliberately and wordlessly reaching over to clasp Ashley on her shoulder. The senior Spectre winked at him with a knowing grin before turning to the older ship-Spirit in the room. "Gagarin, you've been back for less than a day and aren't a warship, so—"
"I'm staying. The Doc here hasn't finished teaching me about those Prothean asshats whose shitty base design downed my shuttle." The exploration ship leaned over to one side, patting Dr. T'Soni on one shoulder before freezing and glancing over at where Mallex's hand still rested on Ash's shoulder. Dropping her hand, and with a faint blush on her cheeks, Gagarin continued "And, uh, I reckon you guys have already mapped the Sol system pretty good. I may not be a purpose-built warship, but several of the men who would later become my crew saw combat against Abyssal landing parties during the War. Give me a rifle, and I can handle myself in a person-to-person fight." With a shrug, she finished with "Like the ironclad girls did during the War."
"We're glad to keep you onboard, then." Shepard said. He then waved his hand to indicate the entire audience in the room. "We'll arrive at the Charon Relay in three hours. In the meantime, while normal communications out-System are still down, the Council has agreed to forward any personal messages to family outside of Sol, when sent via QEC. Send any messages you write to EDI, and she'll package them for QEC transmission before we hit Charon." With one last look around the room, he finished with "Dismissed."
Mallex stood, once more thankful for the tall ceilings that this Normandy had inherited from her predecessor's Hierarchy co-designers. Turning to Ashley, he asked "Not too hungry for an early dinner, I hope? I didn't get a chance to try the food myself earlier, but Gagarin certainly enjoyed it, so the levo food should be good."
Ashley followed him out of the room. "She's a ship-spirit. When it comes to food, her definition of 'quality' is 'quantity.' That said, did you check with Gardner how much dextro food we have aboard? I'm sure we could ask that transport from Earth to bring a few months' rations for you, if needed."
"Good idea. Planning on writing a message to your sisters?"
"They're all still on Earth, so there isn't much of a rush. You?"
Mallex shrugged. "Who've I got to write to, that isn't walking to the mess with me right now?"
Ash smiled warmly at him. "Thanks. But really, no co-workers, even? How about what's-his-name, the banner-sergeant?"
"Well…" he scratched at his chin with one talon, a non-Turian habitual gesture that he knew he'd picked up from Ash's grandfather years ago "I think Kamastis has enough to worry about at the moment. He's probably got his recall notice by now — or if he's seen the news, he'll know it's coming — and he's got the family to worry about on top of that. Not sure a sappy letter from an old CO would be welcome, really."
Ash elbowed him sharply in the rib-plates. As she nursed her bruised elbow, she let out a snort of laughter. "Men really are the same all over the galaxy. He's your friend, Mal. Since boot camp, you said. Of course you should send him a message; a short one, at least." She wagged one finger at him, but the shit-eating grin on her face took the bite out of the gesture. "Do I need to drag you by your ear to a table and sit you down to write?"
They turned the corner on a passageway, and started walking towards the strengthening aroma of food. Mallex reached over and patted Ashley on the side of her head, careful not to disturb her long-cut fur. "Unlike some people, I don't have a needlessly-vulnerable external ear." He used the dulled back of one talon to flick at the tip of the lump of cartilage that jutted out from the side of his human's head.
Really, her smirk and the spark in her eyes should have warned him. Ash reached up with one hand and grabbed his elbow, pulling Mal down and towards her. With her other hand, she reached up around the back of the turian's head. "Fine. I'll haul you by your fringe, then." With two fingers, she felt for the center-lower spike of plating where it lay against the back of his neck, and nimbly unfolded it.
"Spirits above, woman!" he hissed, quickly glancing up and down the corridor as his pulse skipped a beat. "I just came aboard yesterday – I can't go getting fondled right outside the mess just yet!" That sort of thing was frowned on even in Hierarchy vessels, outside of the bunk rooms.
"Then write." Ash grinned and patted the side of his head, as he had hers. "Or I'll do worse to you next time we get enough R&R time."
He fought back the rising hum of his subharmonics, managing to only half-croak "Make it a promise, and I'll listen."
Ash just winked, and turned to walk into the mess hall.
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"Freighter White Ivy, docking clearance granted for your shuttle. Our hangar's open, and guide-lines are lit." EDI intoned over the wide-beam laser comms, piping the audio into the Normandy's small hangar where Mallex stood. The food which Gardner hat put together had been quite good — the ingredients, more than the preparation, at least — and the brief down time in Ash & Mallex's cabin had been too short for any real fun, but now they were finally near the Relay.
If he both squinted and dialed the zoom on his visor up to its highest setting, he could just barely tell the blue-white speck of a Relay in the distance apart from the starry background. But what most interested him was the boxy Kodiak transport shuttle coming in on approach to the Normandy. He'd gotten a good (if also short) interview with Yuri Gagarin, yet as fascinating as that Spirit was, she wasn't one of humanity's legendary Spirits, those veterans of the War.
But when Ash had shown him the list of the volunteers on the shuttle just now settling onto the Normandy's deck, a few of the names were well-known enough that even he recognized them. The two of them had spent more than an hour after dinner poring over the extranet terminal in Ash's quarters, looking up the other names on the list.
But the most surprising part of all, and the reason why Mallex had made absolutely certain that his camera was ready to roll as soon as the Kodiak's hatch opened… "Are you sure that they can be trusted?"
Ashley glanced quickly at him, then back to the shuttle. "The Abyssals? Well, the rest of the ad-hoc flotilla vouched for them. Hackett seemed convinced, else he wouldn't have allowed them to volunteer." She shrugged. "I expect you'll get a better answer out of the ships once they come aboard, properly." With a short laugh, she added "Besides, the old Normandy's crew weren't exactly free of trouble-makers. And you've heard the stories about the crew that Shepard picked up for this Normandy over the last year."
"Fair point." Still, he did feel somewhat under-armed, with only his rifle mag-clamped to the back of his armor. Admittedly, there wasn't much that he could do against a hostile Spirit anyways, but… "Well, Shepard's pulled off the impossible before. Let's hope that streak continues."
The conversation ended as the hatch hissed open, and a pile of humans almost-literally poured out, utterly lacking in the sort of grace that one would expect from centuries-old Spirits. It was like his brief stint as a boot-camp instructor all over again, but he was nominally younger than any of them.
While the gaggle of smaller — and younger-looking — Spirits were slowly standing up from where they had tripped over each other, several taller and older ones left the Kodiak in a much more dignified manner. And almost no two ships looked alike, each wearing uniforms — and "uniforms" — that stood out both for their strangeness and their utter lack of any sort of actual 'uniformity'. One of the tallest in the group pushed past her fellows and made a bee-line for Shepard. Nearly a head taller than the Spectre, she almost matched Mallex for height. "USS Lexington, CV-16. For my sins, I'm the appointed commander of this little squadron." Without turning her head, she gestured to one side.
The other Spirits quickly jostled into a rough line to Lexington's right, in the direction that she'd been pointing. Now that he could see each one properly, Mallex scanned the line, looking for— There. Three of the Spirits sported the utterly-pale skin, white hair, and faintly-glowing eyes that marked them as Abyssals. But they were spread out in the formation, with one hurriedly whispering to the two next to her who wore what looked like pre-industrial metal body armor.
The ship immediately by to Lexington's side and who gave the impression of an experienced XO barked "USS Scharnhorst, battleship." Turning her head, she added "Kampfflotte, report by name!"
The young girl by her side immediately belted out "HMS Glowworm, I heard you needed a hand-to-hand expert!"
"HMS Revenge, sneakiest battleship around."
"Tenryuu, best swordswoman on Earth."
"Or off Earth, nanodesu. Ah, Inazuma, destroyer."
"Ikazuchi! Not 'Kaminari,' remember!"
"Akatsuki, here to watch over my sisters."
"Hibiki."
Now it came to the smallest of the three armored Spirits. "USS Monitor, because they named the best coastal-support ships after me for a reason!"
"CSS Virginia; someone has to keep Cheese-Box here from tipping over. Again." The black-armored one spoke through the face-concealing helmet that she wore, before poking the Abyssal next to her. "And this here is—"
"HMS THUNDER CHILD!" a voice entirely too loud for such a small frame reverberated off the room's walls. "Some arrogant chap thought he could waltz all over the Thames, and I put paid to his damned nonsense! Pity he got away. But I heard there were more like him needed a proper thrashing out here!"
The only Spirit wearing an ankle-length dress smiled indulgently. "Let me tell you, finding her in the Abyss was a treat. Tried to ram me full on-the-nose. Didn't go to well, eh redcoat?"
An indignant "Colonial!" was all the response that Thunder Child seemed to deem necessary, and the Spirit continued. "USS Olympia, C-6." She rolled her right shoulder as if to work out a kink, and the long rifle slung over that shoulder — she was the only ship visibly armed, now that Mallex noticed — bobbed up and down. "I reckon I've fought most everywhere there is to fight on Earth, so an expedition to parts unknown sounded like an adventure."
At this point, Mallex was prepared for the over-the-top antics of the next ship in line, with the eye-searingly bright orange dress. "Sendai has arrived! Leave the night battles to me – and in space, isn't every battle a night battle!"
"Rather the opposite, I should think, no?" The only man in the formation got an elbow in his ribs for his trouble. "Hah!" He flashed a grin at his compatriot, and continued. "Submarine-cruiser Surcouf. For some great forgotten sin which I must have committed in a past life, God has seen fit to make me the leader of our mis-matched submarine force."
The two Abyssals after him grumbled at that, and the first said "Just remember to keep your head down this time, baguette-boy." A playful slap to the back of the head from Surcouf sent her hair spilling down over her face, which she shook clear. "Submarine-cruiser Beluga, here to show the French what a real submarine-cruiser looks like."
"They did not build you for a reason, mon amie."
"Because you spoiled the plan too quick, and those damned diplomats wrote us into the Treaty."
Scharnhorst cleared her throat, and the two quieted. A quiet which was quickly broken by the last Abyssal. "The Amazing Un-Hearable Submarine Anglerfish, Seawolf-class, SCP-nine-three-eight fou—" Surcouf shot her a glare, and she danced away from Beluga's elbow-strike. "Containment Procedures: NONE POSSIBL—!"
The last ship to appear had stayed in the background, and now pounced on Anglerfish, who yelped in surprise. "She's, like, so cute-ish!"
"How do you keep doing that, poi-boat? Release me!"
But the last ship only hugged the submarine tighter. "Auxiliary sail-power, poi! It's super-quiet!"
"But your bumpy-welded hull sure isn't! It's practically riveted! It shouldn't be that quiet!"
Lexington shook her head, visibly hiding a smile behind one raised hand. But when she lowered it, she was all business once more. "Thank you for letting us off that shuttle. I think the freighter's crew — nice folks, all — weren't quite used to ship-Spirit… 'behavior.' At any rate, your Admiral Hackett asked for close-quarters combat and stealth experts. These were the best of those who volunteered."
Well, I'm not just going to parachute KC characters into a universe. No "And then in ~2020, suddenly BOTES". I definitely want to tweak the ME-verse's backstory to make it mesh with the KC-verse at least a bit.
Yup! (Although I tend to keep to the side of KC fanon that has them as their actual steel-hull selves when in 'combat' mode. But that doesn't come without fun of its own:
USS Johnston: "Jersey! JerseyJerseyJersey! Lookit! I can fly in space with the recoil from my 5"ers!
Horrified Alliance gunnery sergeants: "For the love of God, stop using LIVE AMMUNITION then!"
Hey, in a story partly about ships returning as (comically wacky) girls, I'm not going to leave the most-famous ship from that series out of the fun! But, much like Shepard had to go running around and picking up most of his crew in ME3, so will SR-1 show up in a later mission...
Hey, in a story partly about ships returning as (comically wacky) girls, I'm not going to leave the most-famous ship from that series out of the fun! But, much like Shepard had to go running around and picking up most of his crew in ME3, so will SR-1 show up in a later mission...
Isn't there a mission where you find and salvage the wreck of the SR-1 in ME3? Or was that ME2? I can never remember what happened in which game apart from the big stuff like Collectors\Cerberus and Reapers\Catalyst.
"So these 'Reapers' of yours are somebody-else's Abyssals, who stomped them back when multi-cellular life on Earth was a fancy new idea, and have been trashing the galaxy every fifty millennia since?"
Leviathans didn't use ships to traverse the stars, they flew under their own power. Which would neatly explain why they got stomped by their Abyssals — they had no ship spirits to counter with. Other species might have developed ship spirits in response to the Reapers, but there are a LOT of Reapers, and if they absorb new Abyssals from every species they annihilate...
