Chapter 11: Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here
Feb 19, 2015 4:01:08 GMT -6
Maelstrom and Eric Lysander like this
Post by Joe Fischer on Feb 19, 2015 4:01:08 GMT -6
The Collectors had done number on Maelstrom’s shuttle, that much was obvious; but whether by skill, luck or divine intervention—or maybe a combination of the three—it was holding together, each second bringing them closer to the Valiant.
Joe looked over at the scarred turian, who was sitting next to Lysander. His eyes were closed, so he might have been sleeping. If that was the case, he was impressed; he knew from experience the adrenaline high would keep him up for another few hours.
He lightly slapped him on the leg, and he opened his eyes and looked at him.
“We made a deal,” Joe said. “Time to pay up.”
“Very well,” the turian said. “Haraldus Krassius, Sergeant, retired, formerly of the 26th Armiger Legion.”
Joe’s eyebrows shot up. The 26th Armigers were among the elite of the turian military, much like N7s.
“It makes sense now, seeing the way you carried yourself back there,” he said, and extended his hand. “Joe Fischer, Gunnery Sergeant, retired, formerly of the N7s.”
Haraldus said nothing for a moment, probably puzzling over a man who said he wasn’t an N7 when he was wearing their armor and using their weapons. He took Joe’s hand and shook it.
“Thank you, Joe Fischer,” he said. “Back there, in a place like that, you certainly don’t expect to be rescued, especially when half the galaxy don’t believe your captors exist.”
Joe shrugged. “Buy me a cold beer and we’ll call it even,” he said.
Haraldus cocked his head, probably trying to figure out whether Joe was kidding or not.
“Anyway, like I was saying, you carried yourself pretty well back there,” Joe said. “If you’re looking for a job, I think the boss might be persuaded to hire you on.”
Haraldus shook his head. “Thank you Joe, but my soldiering days are behind me,” he said. “Besides, I have some unfinished business back on Palaven. But if you’re ever in the area, stop by, I’ll buy you that cold beer.”
Joe nodded as the Vengeance continued making its way to the Valiant.
Joe looked over at the scarred turian, who was sitting next to Lysander. His eyes were closed, so he might have been sleeping. If that was the case, he was impressed; he knew from experience the adrenaline high would keep him up for another few hours.
He lightly slapped him on the leg, and he opened his eyes and looked at him.
“We made a deal,” Joe said. “Time to pay up.”
“Very well,” the turian said. “Haraldus Krassius, Sergeant, retired, formerly of the 26th Armiger Legion.”
Joe’s eyebrows shot up. The 26th Armigers were among the elite of the turian military, much like N7s.
“It makes sense now, seeing the way you carried yourself back there,” he said, and extended his hand. “Joe Fischer, Gunnery Sergeant, retired, formerly of the N7s.”
Haraldus said nothing for a moment, probably puzzling over a man who said he wasn’t an N7 when he was wearing their armor and using their weapons. He took Joe’s hand and shook it.
“Thank you, Joe Fischer,” he said. “Back there, in a place like that, you certainly don’t expect to be rescued, especially when half the galaxy don’t believe your captors exist.”
Joe shrugged. “Buy me a cold beer and we’ll call it even,” he said.
Haraldus cocked his head, probably trying to figure out whether Joe was kidding or not.
“Anyway, like I was saying, you carried yourself pretty well back there,” Joe said. “If you’re looking for a job, I think the boss might be persuaded to hire you on.”
Haraldus shook his head. “Thank you Joe, but my soldiering days are behind me,” he said. “Besides, I have some unfinished business back on Palaven. But if you’re ever in the area, stop by, I’ll buy you that cold beer.”
Joe nodded as the Vengeance continued making its way to the Valiant.