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Post by grandest on Apr 30, 2014 11:51:45 GMT -6
Cruendi'has Tarmikos: I wish to speak with you. Please come to the dining area at the earliest opportunity. Thank you.
Shala'Bekk vas Neema
Cruendi'has read the message on his omnitool and silently wondered what the Quarian could want with him. Their relationship had softened a bit since the mission. Perhaps she simply wished to say goodbye. These types of missions had a habit of building a sense of camaraderie between most any group. Deciding it'd be better to pay her a visit than wait around uselessly for Esteban, Cruendi'has shot off a quick reply and jogged upstairs to the dining hall. Once there, he found both Shala and Esteban. He nodded to the human and chose to approach the Quarian first. "What's news?" He said.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 19:37:49 GMT -6
"I am a long way from introducing a new species to the homeworld" Iskra's lips pressed into a thin line. Especially when the old species tries to kill anything that moves...
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Post by Maelstrom on Apr 30, 2014 19:41:54 GMT -6
"Understandable," Maelstrom said. "It never worked particularly well in the history of my homeworld."
Realizing that he had not touched on the subject yet, Maelstrom asked, "How have you been doing since the mission, Doctor? I mean, not just the pleasantries people feel the need to get out of the way."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 20:09:08 GMT -6
Iskra stared at the spot on the wall in front of her, her gaze lost in some far off thought.
"I cannot help but feel sorry for everything that felt death at my hands. The Collectors that have been so genetically modified that they have lost free will, blinding shooting at us only because something in the shadows told them too. Those 'husks' that were once people, the suffering they must have gone through for that process, I could not even imagine."
Her dark eyes slid over to the man, "I have only killed in self defense. This was the first time I was the instigator of the fight. Mindless or not, those deaths will stain my soul as murders."
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Post by Maelstrom on Apr 30, 2014 20:22:56 GMT -6
"Mindless or not, those deaths will stain my soul as murders," the drell doctor said, her eyes betraying her troubled feelings.
He understood her feelings.
"I've told my story once this week and have no desire to do so again," Maelstrom said. "The events on the moon weren't the first of the kind I've experienced. I know about losing one's free will. I'll tell you now, Iskra, that when all hope of recovering that will is lost, killing ceases to be an act of evil and becomes one of mercy and compassion."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 20:31:10 GMT -6
Iskra closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe one day she'd agree with him but for now those bodies will litter her memories as regrets.
"Otherwise..." She spoke after a moment of silence. "I am just glad it is done. I am not sure I have the nerves to live in this sort of life. The sooner I can disappear on my homeworld where no lives are mine to protect, the better."
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Post by Maelstrom on Apr 30, 2014 20:52:25 GMT -6
"The sooner I can disappear on my homeworld where no lives are mine to protect, the better."
"I can understand," Maelstrom said, as he poured the now-ready tea into cups. He handed one to her, then took to the opposite seat with his own cup. "Honestly, this excursion has been unusual for me too. Normally I work with established merc bands. I'm the outsider and the commander. No getting close to anyone."
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 21:21:06 GMT -6
Iskra smiled softly at the small tea cup before taking a small sip, sighing at the soothing liquid. The doctor took a moment to meditate on the warm feeling spreading through her chest before opening her eyes again.
"Then why the difference on this mission?"
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Post by Maelstrom on Apr 30, 2014 21:29:10 GMT -6
"Then why the difference on this mission?"
Maelstrom took a sip of the tea as he pondered his response. It was not something he fully understood himself. Part of him wondered if it was weakness, while another part wondered if it was growth.
"Probably has a lot to do with the fact that no one had worked with each other before. When you work with a merc band, they have a reputation by which you can assess the lot. And there tends to be someone in charge who can give me a rundown of each person's strengths and weaknesses. With a bunch of independents, one has to work these things out for oneself.
"Then there's the fact that merc bands tend to be a bit more insular. There are established relationships, and its hard to break in to those. Here, few if anyone had a pre-existing relationship. Everyone wanted to get to know the people who would be watching their backs."
He took another sip of the tea. "I wasn't looking for it, but it was not unwelcome."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Apr 30, 2014 22:30:30 GMT -6
"What news?" he asked.
"Thank you for coming, Cruendi'has Tarmikos," she said. She took a moment to gather herself, and then plunged forward. "Among my people, when someone no longer has a need for something, they take it to an area of their ship set aside for such things. Anyone who then wants it may take it.
"Obviously, this is not a quarian ship, so I can't do that here, therefore it is up to me to decide who gets it," she said. She slowly put her hand on the shotgun so he would not think she was trying to shoot him and pushed it forward an inch. "I would like for you to have this. I no longer have a need for it."
Lylia sitting on the wall, smiling at her...
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Post by Esteban Bridges on Apr 30, 2014 23:26:06 GMT -6
Estaban had no idea what the Quarian was doing. He never learned much about Quarian culture. Honestly, he never cared. But now, he found himself curious. He cleared his throat.
"Shala," he started off. "No need? When would anyone not have a need of a weapon in this galaxy? It's a dangerous place."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Apr 30, 2014 23:41:03 GMT -6
Anger flared up in Shala at the captain's remark; it had barged into the moment between her and Cruendi'has with all the subtlety of a geth juggernaut. She wondered whether to ignore him and try to stay in the moment or to respond to him.
In the end, she decided to respond. She knew he would involve himself until she did.
"Captain, this is between Cruendi'has Tarmikos and me," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral. "I will explain once we are done. Until then, please do not interrupt further."
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Post by Eric Lysander on May 1, 2014 8:24:30 GMT -6
“Where the hell is it? Coulda sworn I had at least one…”
After setting aside his book Eric pored over the food packets in his locker looking for one marked “Iowa Beef Steak.” He was tempted to head down to the lower decks to check in his strong boxes again but recalled that he had loaded all the packets he had on to his cart.
Wasn’t really hungry anyway, he dismissed as he placed all of his belongings back into his locker, making a note to resupply at the next opportunity. He held his book carefully. Its aged cover was sealed in laminate but the pages were still subject to the ravages of time. As publishers abandoned the ancient bound paper format for digital, a few individuals tried to keep the tradition alive by setting up their own printing presses. Reproducing and preserving the novels and textbooks they grew up with. Eric’s book was a product of such efforts:
THE CALL OF CTHULU AND OTHER TALES OF TERROR BY H.P. LOVECRAFT
The impressionistic silhouette of the titular creature stared outwards ominously. It was Eric’s favorite book in spite of its stories of eldritch beings and their utter disregard for humanity. He had long believed that there was life elsewhere in the universe and when the First Contact War happened he felt vindication and excitement where everyone else felt dread. Now at long last, their past dread was his.
Maybe later.
Eric heaved his book into the locker and sealed it up in defeat, unable to find any sort of comfort. Thinking he would just be another hired grunt on a job, Eric had instead shown initiative and became the “executive officer” of the job after a fashion.
And what did that accomplish apart from completing the primary objective?
River Havens was in stasis after using her considerable biotic powers to bring down a monstrosity while he spent the majority of the mission within the relative safety of the cliffs and the turret emplacement.
Her life-saving operation interrupted by an alien intruder, an intruder that should not have been able to get aboard if the security system he failed to re-arm was engaged.
Maelstrom possessed by a swarm of mechanical insects, forced to act against his will as a conduit for data and records from a long-dead race. Eric was conflicted by his need to save his teammate and trying to find out what the intruder wanted. Cruendi’has’ initiative ended up breaking the stalemate, rescuing Maelstrom.
Yeah, I’m sure the Alliance would love to have you back… some leader you turned out to be…
Eric opened his locker again and fished in blindly for a food packet; he needed a distraction of some kind. He examined the packet. Its label read “Meat Loaf w/ Mashed Potates and Gravy.”
“Well… it’s still meat,” he said aloud before closing the locker again and heading to the kitchen area.
As he walked in, he noticed Cruendi’has and Shala. The quarian appeared to be giving him her shotgun. The same shotgun that caused a fight several days earlier. Esteban interrupted the proceedings and Shala implored him to let her continue, her voice betraying a touch of anger.
Eric stood nearby with food packet in hand, once again conflicted. Should he step in or let things be? Would she have another episode or could she handle herself in the face of her employer? Was Esteban intruding by accident or pulling rank, full of himself after his hired group of mercenaries reclaimed his property? Would Cruendi’has be the one to calm things down between everyone this time? Was he still mad over the partial dressing down he was given by Eric, although his actions saved the Mercenary in Black?
Aggh, it never rains…
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Post by PaladinKOSP on May 1, 2014 10:03:17 GMT -6
The turian typed on his omni-tool on his way down the hall, looking through the images and recordings he took on the expedition. The Reapers locked into battle with the lost race, and the lost civilizations tactics to eliminate them. He was intrigued and wondered if he could used the same tactics on other foes.. or the Reapers themselves. He glanced up to look at the path ahead of him. He saw a quarian giving away her weapon to the batarian. He never saw the quarian before, she was probably at another place in the ruins and the batarian... he wouldn't dwell on it right now. Although he never seen it before, he know what she was doing. It was one of those quarian traditions when the select person gives a certain item to the other when the first person doesn't want it anymore.. or something along the lines of that. He approached one of the cafeteria tables and sat down in one of the chair, review the information on the omni-tool that lies before him.
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Post by grandest on May 1, 2014 14:01:55 GMT -6
"Thank you for coming, Cruendi'has Tarmikos," Shala began. "Among my people, when someone no longer has a need for something, they take it to an area of their ship set aside for such things. Anyone who then wants it may take it." Okay, thought Creundi'has. Where's this going? "Obviously, this is not a quarian ship, so I can't do that here, therefore it is up to me to decide who gets it." She slowly put her hand on the shotgun and pushed it forward an inch. "I would like for you to have this. I no longer have a need for it." Cruendi'has blinked in disbelief. This was certainly unexpected. Unsure of what to say, he reached out and looked over the heavily modified weapon. "Shala," Esteban interrupted. "No need? When would anyone not have a need of a weapon in this galaxy? It's a dangerous place." The human was right, if a little intrusive. How was she to protect herself? "Captain," Shala's icy voice answered. "This is between Cruendi'has Tarmikos and me. I will explain once we are done. Until then, please do not interrupt further." Cruendi'has noted Eric and Artacus mosey into the dining area. He had an audience now. Wonderful. The Batarian let out a soft chuckle (At least, what would amount for a Batarian chuckle). "With an intimidating voice like that, I don't think she'll need a gun to scare punks away." He looked again at the shotgun. "In all seriousness though, Shala. It's a terrific weapon. Why give it away? Why me?"
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on May 1, 2014 20:40:24 GMT -6
"Why give it away? Why me?" Cruendi'has Tarmikos asked.
"To answer your second question, you could say it is...symmetry," Shala said. "I took it from a batarian, and now I'm giving it back to one.
"As for your first question..."
Lylia looking at her, vulnerable and anxious, having just asked to meld...
"As I said earlier, I lost a...very good friend...to slavers, and that is the same day I acquired this shotgun," she said, her heart racing. "It was...choking off...all of the good memories I had of her. I was afraid that if I held onto it any longer, I would soon forget them, leaving only the bad one. That is why I am offering it to you."
Please take it please take it I don't want it any more...
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Post by Esteban Bridges on May 2, 2014 0:52:33 GMT -6
Esteban raised an eyebrow at the sudden bile, giving her a look that virtually screamed 'really?'. Apparently he was giving her too much credit. He rarely tolerated disrespect of any kind, but from a Quarian?
So Esteban shook his head and headed over toward the kitchen where the Turian was seated. He pulled up a seat next to him...
"You handled yourself well today," he said as way of greeting. "I can see you live up to your reputation."
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Post by PaladinKOSP on May 2, 2014 9:24:31 GMT -6
The turian took a glance at the human sitting before him. Since when did he tell anyone he could sit next to him, or even talk to him? It didn't matter now thought, hell, he did even bother mouthing him off.
The turian looked back to his omni-tool, continuing to review the data. "Of course... I'm one of the Hierarchy's lap dogs after all." He responded cooly.
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Post by Eric Lysander on May 2, 2014 11:01:16 GMT -6
Artacus had entered the mess as well, sitting down on a nearby chair looking over material on his omnitool. Esteban backed away from Shala peaceably and sat beside the turian, attempting to strike up a conversation while Shala resumed her own with Cruendi’has, intent on parting with her shotgun. The scene was reminiscent of when Eric surrendered his explosive device to her a day or so earlier.
One less thing to worry about, he sighed to himself, glad that there was no further incident. He checked the expiration date on his food packet.
Ah, still good.
He cracked open the foil slightly to allow steam to escape as he loaded it into the microwave. Waiting for his meal to heat up, he studied Aractus and Esteban. It was Aractus’ insistence on the ruins containing vital information that made Eric hesitate; that and his own lack of exploration or first contact experience. As the mercenary team reassembled on the Valiant he heard the turian speak in passing of a vision he experienced in one of the ruins’ chambers. That the mechanized goliath Saren and the geth used to attack the Citadel may have been the vanguard of another ancient race, a vastly more powerful race that the one discovered on Barce.
The microwave signaled its completion. Eric carefully removed the food packet and set it on a tray, carrying it over to sit by his employer. He took a few bites as he listened to him speak with the turian mercenary. When a pause in their discourse came, he made his curiosity known.
“So, Aractus… you saw something a helluva lot more substantial than my ghost bug and Mal’s light show… care to elaborate?”
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Post by grandest on May 2, 2014 11:46:55 GMT -6
"That is why I am offering it to you." Cruendi'has eyed Shala and the gun at the same time before centering both pairs of eyes on Shala's facemask. "I understand." He grabbed the weapon and pulled it slowly closer to himself. "And I promise it will no longer be used wrongfully." He found there wasn't much he knew to say in these situations. Batarians were never ones to offer things without a price. So, he stood up and again reached out his hand. "It's been an honor to know you Shala'Bekk vas Neema."
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