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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Feb 28, 2015 10:51:27 GMT -6
Reroute: transfer the functions of the processor to mid- and lower-level processors.
Repair: once the functions were transferred, remove the damaged processor and examine its potential to be fixed. If it could be, it would; if not, it would be swapped out for another.
Replace: install the repaired or new processor into the core, then transfer its functions back to it.
*****
A simple process, but three lives hung in the balance: Emily’s, Maelstrom’s—and now hers. There was no time for doubts, speculations or emotion. There was a task that had to be done, and it consumed all her focus. She could sense Maelstrom moving about the shuttle, and she thought she heard him speaking, but all that activity seemed far off. It did not help her in her task, so she pushed it to the side.
Reroute, repair, replace.
The first processor went back in smoothly with no problems, and more importantly, none for her. She didn’t feel any aches, pains or fever.
“Functionality at…at…sev…seventy-three percent,” Emily said.
Reroute, repair, replace.
Blinding white light suddenly flared into existence. Had she still been wearing her helmet, the faceplate would have automatically compensated, but without it, the light was so bright as to cause her to stop and shield her eyes with her hand—and gasp involuntarily.
The light’s appearance baffled her, and then she realized what had happened: Maelstrom had activated the shuttle’s internal decontamination process.
She almost laughed at the irony. He’s trying to help me, and now he just may have killed me, she thought as she could feel her body already beginning to react to the infections already taking root in her, infections she took in with that one small intake of breath.
She could feel the urge to cough as her lungs began to fill with mucus. She could feel a sharp pain right behind her nose as her sinuses swelled up. And she could feel her body temperature begin to rise, the side effect of artificial white blood cells waging war against the invading infections.
She allowed herself a moment of self-pity before shoving it down. I’m already dead, she realized. Time to make it mean something.
*****
She managed to get the second processor in without much trouble, but she could feel her body temperature rising to the point where she began sweating. She could ignore most of it, except on her head. She paused long enough to wipe it off, along with a lock a hair that had fallen down between her eyes—something else she never had to worry about when wearing her helmet.
*****
As she started on the third processor, she could feel pain in her joints. She had no idea what sort of illness would cause that, but it didn’t matter; the white blood cells were fighting valiantly, but she also knew they were losing. The only question was how soon they would lose completely—and how soon she would die.
And then there were her lungs. With space being taken up by mucus, that meant less air for them to process which meant she would have to take a breath sooner rather than later. But another breath, something that could save the life of anyone else, would end hers.
Reroute. Repair. Replace.
*****
She managed to get the third processor in, but as she re-inserted it, she realized she could no longer feel her fingers.
She knew what was happening. The artificial white blood cells were in full retreat, pulling its forces out of nonessential areas of her body and regrouping around the most critical parts—which meant conceding territory to the infections and illnesses.
“No, damn it, no,” she said, clenching her hands into fists and punching the deck, trying to force the blood to come back.
Ancestors, please, she prayed. Just one more processor, and then I will join you.
***** Reroute…
The ancestors seemed to hear her plea, and she could feel her fingers coming back to life. But there was a price to be paid. She saw black spots appear at the edge of her vision; her brain, deprived of oxygen, was shutting down.
Repair… Her lungs felt like they were on fire. They had processed all the oxygen they could out of her deep breath and transformed it into carbon dioxide. They demanded air; without it, everything was slowing down.
Replace…
The darkness in her vision grew, as well as seemingly pushing everything away; it seemed like the core was on the opposite side of the shuttle, even though the miniscule portion of her brain still functioning knew it was within reach.
*****
“Functionality at one hundred percent,” Emily said. “This unit is ready to process commands.”
She reached for her helmet, but with her vision swimming in and out of focus, it seemed like it was a light year away. She felt her fingers brush against it, but it rolled away from her.
She lunged for it. She felt her fingers brush against it again, but this time she seized in a death grip. She put it on and fumbled to reconnect it.
Breathe, just one little breath, it won’t kill you, the voice of temptation whispered, but she pushed it away.
With the final hose connected, she croaked out, “Enable…life…support.”
“Life support enabled,” Ren said, and then she allowed herself to breathe.
And then the coughing began. Not polite little ones, but savage ones that wracked her body, twisting her into the fetal position and making her think her lungs were going to explode out of her mouth.
Even as she breathed, she could see her vision continue to darken.
Except for one bright spot. The details were too fuzzy to make out, but she knew it was masculine and peaceful.
“Father?” she whispered, reaching out.
Everything went black.
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Post by Maelstrom on Feb 28, 2015 14:19:37 GMT -6
Shala'Bekk did not respond to anything he said, as she continued working at the computer core. Maelstrom continued doing everything he could both to give her time to work on the core and to keep her alive, but he knew it was precious little. Though her attention stayed focused on her task, he could see her body begin fighting her. Sweat started dripping from her brow. During his brief stint with the Alliance, he had seen soldiers who received a bad batch of inoculations and been sent home from the embassy on Palaven. She looked worse.
Instead of continuing to work on the shuttle or make pointless gestures that bought less time than they took to implement, Maelstrom switched to a new task. He rushed to the communications array and brought up a secret protocol. A small holographic display popped up, showing multiple frequencies and statistics, all of which showed the connection was secure.
"You've rarely contacted me so directly," a voice responded within a few seconds. "What can I do for you today, Maelstrom?"
"Nothing grand, I assure you," he replied, having no intention of becoming any more indebted to the Broker than he already was. "I need to know the best place on a Citadel for a quarian to receive intensive care."
The channel was silent for an unusually long period of time. "This is not the kind of request I've come to expect from you." After several more moments, the voice responded, "There's a place the wards. It's run by some quarians who were exiled or who never returned from Pilgrimage. It's not fancy like the Presidium hospitals, but the staff and equipment there are uncommonly suited for the treatment of quarian maladies. I'm sending over a datapack."
"No," Maelstrom corrected. "Ship's systems are compromised. Computers non-functional. Please, send it as a data-transmission for capture by my omni-tool."
There was silence again, followed by a series of new fluctuations and signals on the display. The Broker was further securing the system. A rush of data followed, and his activated omni-tool captured it all.
"This one is complementary. Be careful with the young Miss Shala'Bekk," the voice added. "I don't yet see the full picture, but someone is taking notice of Mister Bridges' operation. Stay on your guard. I would hate for our work to go unfinished."
"As would I," Maelstrom added, though the channel was already closed.
"Functionality at one hundred percent," Emily said, as he made his way back into the main compartment. "This unit is ready to process commands."
Shala'Bekk groped around clumsily for her helmet, having to launch herself after it as it rolled away. She reconnected the unit urgently. Her form lay crumpled on the floor once it was reconnected, only to be wracked with coughs.
Maelstrom quickly fed the data on the quarian hospital into Emily's system before scooping the unconscious quarian into his arms. He rushed out of the secretive cargo bay, as Emily put out a distress call in a simulated quarian voice. It only took him two minutes to reach the rendezvous point that his VI selected, well away from the shuttle. It took another few minutes before the emergency responders arrived; he shut off the face-plate display as he waited, the Broker's words of caution playing through his mind over and over again.
When the paramedics arrived, they seemed extremely shocked to find one of their own kind in the arms of an alien. He used his biotics to help them transport her gently to a gurney, where a VI automatically connected dozens of tubes to her suit, as the medics ran omni-tool scans of her medical state. The other quarians barely acknowledged him, other than to chastise him for allowing herself to do something so foolish as to take her helmet off in his presence.
He grabbed one of them by the shoulder as they went about leaving wordlessly. Turning the responder around, he said, "I expect to be contacted regularly with updates on her condition."
"Your kind never does anything for us. Why should we bother for you, especially after this?"
Maelstrom was not in a mood to be diplomatic. Drawing his SMG and putting the muzzle in the quarian's face, he said, "Because I will be coming to check up on this young woman, and if I find out that anything happens to her without my having heard of it, they're going to have another patient on their hands, this one with multiple catastrophic suit breaches. Understand?"
Maelstrom saw the quarian's arm move to activate an overload on his omni-tool, but Maelstrom slammed him with a biotic push. He collided hard with the side of the ambulance vehicle, his overload sparking off into the distance. Maelstrom activated his own omni-tool, sending the man contact information for a new account never before linked to him.
"See to it that I am updated regularly in regards to her condition," he repeated, before turning and heading back to the cargo bay.
"Someone who truly cared would come with her," the quarian yelled after him.
Turning around and walking backwards, Maelstrom countered with, "You've made it quite clear that I wouldn't be welcome, and someone who cared wouldn't distract her doctors with their personal racism when their attention needs to be on her."
That shut the man up and got in the vehicle, the ambulance speeding off into the distance seconds later.
"Emily, prepare the shuttle for takeoff. We're going to be rejoining the Valiant," Maelstrom added.
"Computer systems are restored but mechanical systems are still severely compromised," Emily reminded.
"I know, Emily. Don't worry. We'll make it," Maelstrom assured.
"Should I resume all security protocols?" the VI asked.
Maelstrom was shocked that he had been so caught up in Shala'Bekk's condition that he forgot to reinstate the security protocols that helped keep his movements secret from Cerberus. "Yes, Emily, and begin a retroactive security system sweep to remove all record of our presence." Remembering the emergency responder's reluctance, he also added, "Catalogue any recordings taken of me and store them for later analysis, as well as recording my helmet's readouts. Keep an eye out for any suspicious characters. Do the same for the hospital Shala's being taken to. We'll have to be her protectors until she's able to take care of herself again."
Wondering again about her rather extreme actions taken to repair Emily, he added, "And monitor her condition. If possible, I'd like to be there when she wakes up. I have some questions for her."
"The assigned tasks will take up a large percentage of my concentration," she reminded, her emulation coming back online. "It will be difficult."
"Do you run any danger of overtaxing our systems?"
"No, but I won't be able to gather any new intelligence on Cerberus."
"We can make that sacrifice for now," he sighed. "Just do it."
(Timeline for this post is roughly the same as Lysander's Part 1 post.)
(Permission was given for actions taken by Maelstrom affecting Shala'Bekk)
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 2, 2015 0:27:45 GMT -6
Shala was planetside, walking through a settlement that seemed familiar and different at the same time.
Too bright, she thought as the sun shone down on her.
She raised an arm to shield herself from the light, and it was then she noticed she was not wearing her suit.
This was normally when one of her people would panic at the thought of being so vulnerable, but she did not; all she felt was an overwhelming sense of peace.
“Shala!” a voice called out, ending her speculation.
She turned, her heart leaping with joy as she recognized the voice.
Maelstrom approached her, wearing regular clothes and a big smile on his face. The tension she had always seen in his posture was gone, replaced with happiness.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He kissed her by way of reply.
She had never done it before, so she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but the passion was undeniable.
He pulled back. “What were you saying?” he asked, grinning.
“I…I don’t know,” she said. “But I really don’t care.”
She kissed him back, trying to match the passion he had put into his.
“I’ve been so stupid,” he said when they finally broke the kiss. “I spent most of my life chasing after Cerberus, but I have no idea how much of an effect I’ve had on them. I should have been filling my life with love, not hate.”
“That doesn’t matter now,” she said. “We’re together now, that’s all that matters.”
“Yes it does,” he said, and kissed her again. She didn’t think it could be better than the previous ones, but she was wrong.
After they broke the kiss, she said, “There is one thing I’d like to know…your real name.”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s---“
Pain erupted in her chest and she fell to her knees, coughing up blood. She heard the sound of someone approaching and she turned.
It was a woman, but she was transparent, and she was carrying a geth shotgun. As she approached, she became more and more solid until she was just as real as Maelstrom.
“Who…?” she asked.
The woman ignored her and went over to him, gently caressing his face and kissing him. For his part, he remained motionless, just staring straight ahead.
She looked up at the woman. “Who…?”
“Who do you think?” the woman said, turning the shotgun on her.
“Emily?” she asked.
“You can’t have him,” Emily said. “I am—and always will be—his only love. You should be thanking me, I’m saving you from a lifetime of pain.”
“No,” Shala gasped, raising a hand in vain to shield herself.
Everything went bright.
*****
Theraxos Loressan stood in the observation room, watching as Shala twisted on the bed, hooked up to numerous machines all dedicated to saving her life.
As a turian, discipline had been drilled into him almost since the day he was born, the discipline to remain focused in the worst of situations. Emotions impaired one’s judgment, discipline enhanced it.
Discipline was doing nothing for him right now. Ever since he had met her at an eatery on the Presidium, he had felt something for her. She was a skilled technician, as was every other member of her race, but there was something in the way she carried herself that demanded she be protected.
“Will she make it?” he asked the quarian doctor at his side.
“It looks good, but with one of us, who knows?” the doctor said with a shrug. “One of your simple colds could kill us.”
“Was she able to tell you how she…?” he asked.
“No, she was already unconscious when we found her,” the doctor said. “There was a human with her, and he assaulted one of my staff as they treated her.”
“Tell me about him,” Theraxos said.
Human, I don’t know who you are, but you just made the biggest mistake of your life…
[AUTHOR NOTE: For more background, see “Shala’Bekk – Old Friends & New Ones” in the Character Stories section.]
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 2, 2015 1:01:25 GMT -6
The work on his ship had proceeded quickly in the days since Shala'Bekk repaired the primary computer core. The secondary cores still needed repair, but they were not of great importance comparatively. With the control systems largely restored, Bridges' team was able to restore or upgrade most of the systems far faster than Maelstrom ever could have imagined. In fact, except for those secondary computer cores and several of Maelstrom's booby traps, the last of the work was completed hours before, and Maelstrom had already restored his home's modest decoration to its typical state.
He spent little time out and about on the Citadel, considering it to be one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy for him. Emily could handle the security cameras and scans, but the risk of informants for the Shadow Broker's rivals was the most risky thing. Still, by sticking to certain areas of the station and going out at certain times, he was able to minimize his exposure. About the only things he did go out for were food, alcohol, and ammo.
Even so, he spent hours with Emily pouring over the security footage obtained from his outings and noticed nothing threatening. Certainly, his Collector armor turned heads here and there, but there was no evidence of any pictures being taken, no evidence of anyone making any immediate contact after seeing him, and no one following him. Even so, he stayed mostly to himself, leaving the Vengeance for one of the Broker's secretive docking bays she kept available for those who were associated with him. Even the twins were absent, speaking with their mentor about the experiences they had in their time apart.
The life-sized human avatar of his VI popped up beside him as he reclined in his pilot's chair. Zuko was gliding around elsewhere. Her cheery demeanor restored with the again-functional systems, the VI added, "The doctors at the quarian clinic have updated their charts on Shala'Bekk. They expect her to regain consciousness in a matter of hours."
"I'm about to head to her room," Maelstrom announced, grabbing his helmet and securing it. The Shadow Broker's words had not left his mind, and he suspected he knew the culprit. That was why he left the Valiant rather than stay until the ship departed again. He did not want Cerberus pulling the other mercenaries into their hunt for him. "Our pre-arranged route. Keep an eye on out for anything unusual, and maintain surveillance on the clinic."
*******
To him, the clinic looked like something straight out of the slums of Omega. He had watched the vids Emily captured taken outside the establishment, but they betrayed little of the state of things on the building's interior. Did he not know the quarians' well-earned reputation for mechanical genius, he would have doubted the place's safety.
Very few of the individuals present were non-quarians. Those present who were not a part of the majority appeared to be regarded with a fair deal of suspicion and even anger. After all they likely endured from CSEC and the other residents of the Citadel, he supposed he could not blame them. Still, he felt reassured to have his weapons at his side.
"Bounty hunters are not welcome here," a quarian with a mature voice and a white and blue suit informed him, setting down a mobile computer interface and setting her hand on a pistol.
"I'm not a bounty hunter. I admitted Shala'Bekk vas Neema for care almost a week back," Maelstrom said.
"Oh, yes," she said, clearly recognizing him and irritated. "We all got to hear how you roughed up young Rami'Tann. You'll find that you made no friends here."
"I have little patience where the safety of those I care for is concerned."
"All you aliens... You think that you have the right to just push my people around..."
He cut her off. "I'd have handled a krogan or turian or a human the exact same."
She regarded him for a long moment. "I believe you would." Gathering the interface back up, she typed in a few commands and examined it for a long moment. "Which makes me wonder why you've abandoned her completely since then."
Maelstrom gritted his teeth. With a growl in his voice, he said, "It wouldn't have been safe for her."
The quarian regarded him a moment longer before starting back into the facility and motioning for him to follow. Maelstrom hated what he saw on the way, quarian helmets with boot-shaped breeches in their face-plates, suits which were removed to mend vicious stab-wounds and gunshots, and the victims of all sorts of horrible violence restricted to bubble-like bio-beds with sterilization field-protected openings to allow the doctors to work. At least each patient had their own room, even if it was a tiny alcove with little more than a curtain to separate them from the rest of the place.
His spirits raised somewhat when he saw Shala'Bekk lying on a bed with only a couple tubes hooked up to her suit. Nothing seemed wrong with her. In fact, based on the gentle rise and fall of her chest, there appeared to be no more wrong with her than if she were asleep.
"She came in with an acute..." the quarian began.
"I know."
"The doctors prescribed..."
"I know."
She seemed flustered, and began again. "We expect her to wa..."
"That's why I'm here," Maelstrom said.
She examined her interface again. "Nothing's been released to her turian friend about that."
Maelstrom was surprised. He knew a turian had visited a couple times, but she never said anything about having a friend in CSEC.
"I haven't spoken to him," Maelstrom admitted.
She went over the display a few more times, typing in several commands, before saying, "So, tell me, do we need to re-examine who we're currently employing or our network security?"
He knew she could not see his smile under his helmet. His first inclination was to suggest they all develop some manners and maybe the next person would be more helpful. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry, but I can't help you there."
"Of course not," the nurse sighed, before turning away.
Maelstrom took the sole free seat in her alcove. Bringing up his omni-tool, he selected some quiet music to play in his helmet. With that, he leaned against the unpadded back of the seat and closed his eyes, letting the music carry him away.
*******
Shala moaned, and Maelestrom snapped immediately to attention. "Shala? Can you hear me?"
(This post takes place a couple days after the events in Part 2 of Lysander's story)
(All actions involving others' characters were approved by them prior to posting)
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 2, 2015 1:47:35 GMT -6
Shala flinched at the sound of his voice.
Emily caressing his face and kissing him…
She had to tell herself several times she was back in the real world, where she was still in her environmental suit, Maelstrom was still in his armor and Emily was still in the shuttle.
We’re all prisoners, she thought before turning to face him.
“Yes, I can hear you,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral as she struggled to sit up. “How is Emily? I was a bit…unfocused…towards the end of her repairs.”
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 2, 2015 2:23:12 GMT -6
“How is Emily? I was a bit…unfocused…towards the end of her repairs," Shala replied, sitting up.
"You were amazing, as usual," Maelstrom replied. "No technician I've seen before could have done what you did. The secondary cores still have some damage, but the primary core is functioning at one hundred percent. Most of the rest of the damage is repaired too. Bridges has been as good as his word, setting the rest right, even upgrading some systems, but he couldn't have done any of it if it weren't for your work. Thank you."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 2, 2015 9:46:58 GMT -6
She knew his words were meant to be complimentary, but each one was like a dagger plunged into her heart.
I am—and always will be—his first love…
“You’re welcome,” she said. “If you’re willing to wait, I can fix the secondary cores once I am released.”
You bitch, I should have let you die…
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 2, 2015 10:09:17 GMT -6
“If you’re willing to wait, I can fix the secondary cores once I am released.”
"I'd be happy to have you finish the repairs, but I also understand if you don't feel up to it for a while," Maelstrom said. A nurse passed, and Maelstrom thought he could feel her glaring at him from behind her face-plate. "When I leave, you might want to act as though I've been an annoyance. I'm afraid that the ambulance driver and I got into a bit of a fight when he wouldn't agree to keep me updated on your condition. As such, I'm nobody's favorite around here."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 2, 2015 12:53:22 GMT -6
She cocked her head in confusion at his request.
"But...you saved me," she said. "Why would you want me to perpetuate a lie?"
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 2, 2015 14:28:06 GMT -6
"Why would you want me to perpetuate a lie?" Shala asked.
He did not want to make her nervous, so he decided to play things down. "First of all, the rest of your people here don't seem to care much for me. I don't want it to affect the quality of treatment you receive. Secondly, there are always people looking for me. I don't want them to start looking for you too."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 2, 2015 19:53:03 GMT -6
Shala shook her head in response to Maelstrom’s concerns.
“They probably think you took my helmet off by force rather than…what really happened,” she said. “If anything, they are highly motivated to ensure my full recovery. I think the only way they wouldn’t be was if I proclaimed the geth were a punishment upon my people and we deserved to be wiped out by them.
“As for your enemies coming after me, this is probably the safest place on the entire Citadel for me,” she said. “The one thing we do better than any other race is look out for each other.”
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Post by spartan560 on Mar 2, 2015 20:27:46 GMT -6
Afterlife the heart and soul of Omega where all the big name mercbands and gangs hung out. It's also the perfect place to gather intel as clandestinely as possible which is exactly what Izahm is doing as he slowly sips at his drink his customized helmet recording almost every conversation around him then filtering prearranged parameters to his actual speakers. All the info he had been hearing about a doctor were still about Mordin Solus and his curing of the plague that had wracked the station nothing on Doctor McKay yet. Any other news was either unimportant or filed away for later use. About ready to give up he just catches the start of a conversation between a Turian and a Batarian. "Did you hear about those two bodies they found in sector 22?" "No what's so important about two bodies," the Batarian replies unimpressed, "It's Omega there's dead bodies everywhere they're just hidden really well," "Well these bodies actually had C-Sec armor on underneath their clothes. they were working undercover," the Turian says excitedly, "Aria threw a fit she literally threw the Batrian that gave her the datapad into the wall in a fit of rage." "Damn," the Batarian replies, "Any other news?" "No that's all I could find Aria's keeping it very hush hush," the Turian says. "Azrael give me everything in the database on sector 22 of Omega," Izahm says still casually sipping his drink, "After that give me everything you got on Aria T'loak then activate security protocol level Beta." "Done in progress and done sir," Azrael responds a few seconds later, "Will that be all sir?" "No begin monitoring all communications to and form Omega but filter for any mention of Doctor McKay or the C-Sec agents," Izahm says getting up and casually strolling out of Afterlife and back to the Avrosh, "Then yes that will be all." "Beginning Alpha level monitoring protocols now have a pleasant mission sir," Azrael responds before Izahm closes the channel thinking about how to extract the Doctor. Unknown to him was a Batarian dressed all in black watching him from the shadows, "I got him what's the orders?" An unheard reply is sent followed by the Batarians response, "Yes I'll find out what he's up to if he finds the Doctor I'll kill them both," a pause, "Yes I'll wait until I have confirmation that she has it," the Batarian then shuts down his Omni-tool ending the communication and leaves Afterlife as well following some distance behind Izahm who so lost in thought doesn't notice the tail.
(Set a week after Izahm's acceptance of the mission to find and extract Doctor Eliza McKay in Chora's Den)
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 2, 2015 20:33:14 GMT -6
“The one thing we do better than any other race is look out for each other.”
Maelstrom almost laughed. "As much as I'd like to make an argument for mankind to hold that honor, I'm afraid far too much of our history, both ancient and current, argues against it."
Leaning back, he asked, "Shala, why did you go through all of that to save Emily. She's just a VI. Granted, she's a very advanced, very expensive VI, but no comparison with your life in terms of value."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 3, 2015 1:43:47 GMT -6
She knew he would ask that question sooner or later—she was just hoping it would come later.
And she also knew she could not tell him the truth; it would be the same as asking him to choose between her and his crusade against Cerberus, and with him referring to the VI like a real person, she had no doubt which one he would pick.
You can’t have him…
But she also knew she had to give him an answer.
“Well then, if it means so little to you, then perhaps I should undo my work,” she said, pushing her blanket aside and swinging her legs over the side as if she was about to leave. “I may need some help making it to your shuttle, though; I’m not fully recovered yet.”
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 3, 2015 2:44:37 GMT -6
“I may need some help making it to your shuttle, though; I’m not fully recovered yet,” Shala threatened.
"I never said I didn't appreciate it, Shala," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her in bed. He did not want her hurting herself to put on a show. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't be risking your life for anything you don't absolutely have to. You're out of the mercenary business, now. You have a chance at an actual life, unlike me. I don't want you to throw it away."
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 3, 2015 13:08:07 GMT -6
Shala chuckled, but it was without humor.
“You seem to forget who you’re talking to,” she said, reaching out and tapping his armor. “You can take that off at any time. You have a functioning immune system. And you aren’t universally reviled because of a mistake your ancestors made 300 years ago.
“No, Maelstrom, I’d say you have a better chance at an ‘actual’ life,” she said, shaking her head. “You can choose to stop pursuing Cerberus, I can’t choose to stop being a quarian.”
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 3, 2015 14:29:27 GMT -6
“You can choose to stop pursuing Cerberus, I can’t choose to stop being a quarian.”
Maelstrom felt his anger rise for a moment, but he knew that was not her intention, and he subdued it. Quietly, so as not to be overheard, he said, "There might be a majority of people who hate you for being quarian, but it's far from universal. Your employer proves that. I prove that. And you don't have one of the most powerful intelligence-gathering organizations in the galaxy hunting for you specifically. My face, even my DNA, are liabilities to me, Shala. And, I hate to say it, but there's always the fleet if you can't take your life anymore. Where do I go?"
Sighing, he said, "My lust for vengeance aside, and it's not something I'll deny, destroying Cerberus is the only way I ever have a chance at the kind of life you have the opportunity to make for yourself. The only other option is for me to find some barren planetoid that's completely uninhabited and spend the rest of my days in self-imposed exile, while the people who forced that decision on me continue raping the people of the galaxy for all they're worth. Vengeance aside, I'd have to put a bullet in my brain if I ever gave up on trying to stop them from doing the same sorts of things to other people as they did to me. I couldn't live with myself."
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Post by Eric Lysander on Mar 3, 2015 15:41:31 GMT -6
Eric’s first meal once his alimentary system was deemed fully healed was an electrolyte and nutrient solution. He was advised by his doctor that his body would have to slowly readjust to oral consumption and was given a tonic to take in case of any pain. The only people admitted into Eric’s room since the visit by Cronauer and the young krogan were his doctor and hospital staff, at the N7’s request. As the IV and electrodes inhibiting some of his mobility and systems were removed over the next several days he was able to sit up, stand and then pace about his room. He was allowed the use of his omni-tool so long as he was not going to hack the hospital servers. He watched old vids, avoiding the newsfeeds still going on about Shepard and deleted Cronauer’s message. If he was going to return to active duty only to serve under people like him he would much rather remain a civilian. Still bolstered by Shepard’s efforts to aid him via the Shadow Broker even as his friend faced prosecution, Eric used the time to come to terms with what he truly got out of his military and mercenary experience aside from escaping a life of crime. He loved the adventure of living out what he had once read or seen in vids. He enjoyed the rush of cheating death time and again, putting down criminal elements he was once victimized by that were preying upon those who just wanted to make a decent living for themselves and their families. And he preferred being his own man, leading from the front lines rather than baseside. He would never be like Shepard but he could negotiate with his fists and persuade with a few well-placed shots if a straightforward warning did not suffice. Now that Shepard was in custody, another was needed out in the field to contend with the coming invasion of the Reapers. As far as Eric knew, he and Esteban’s team were the only other people to have gained their attention.
After moving from solutions to soups Eric was finally cleared by his doctor to partake in solid foods again two days earlier. The current meal of meat loaf and mashed potatoes were too soft for Eric to consider solid, however. Throughout his recovery he made very little use of the tonic, figuring the discomfort was part of the healing process. That opinion soon changed when the tail end of his alimentary system became active again for the first time in weeks…
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Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Mar 3, 2015 19:59:05 GMT -6
Her heart sank as she listened to him; she may not have expressed her true feelings, but he had responded as if she had—and it was even worse than she had feared.
First Lylia, now Maelstrom, she thought, wondering if her ancestors were punishing her for having feelings for those outside her race.
Her thoughts turned to Theraxos. He certainly had shown feelings for her, but they seemed to be more of a protective nature than romantic.
But could she really do that to him? Choose him simply because the man she desired did not have the same feelings for her?
Keelah, machines are so much simpler…
“All this talking has worn me out,” she said, pulling up her blanket. “I need to rest.”
With that, she laid back down, turning away from Maelstrom and grieving for the love that was never to be.
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Post by Maelstrom on Mar 3, 2015 22:49:15 GMT -6
“I need to rest," Shala said, turning away from him and pulling her blanket up.
Maelstrom winced. It seemed that he had hurt her somehow, which was the last thing he meant to do. Things were just not as simple as she seemed to think. As simple as even the twins seemed to think.
Maybe I'm the one who's missing something, he thought for a moment before dismissing the thought. There had been too many attempts on his life for him to honestly believe he could be free while Cerberus existed. But maybe there's a middle ground...
He would have to think about it later.
Standing, he added, "I'm sorry if I've upset you, Shala. It was never my intent. If you want me to come back later, here's a dummy address you can address your message to." With a few commands to his omni-tool, he forwarded his information to her device. "Don't contact me directly for now, though. The Broker said there's been some activity recently, someone looking into myself and the others who went on Bridges' last mission. I'll keep an eye on this place until you're well enough to leave, regardless, but I'll leave you to yourself until you want me to come."
He started to leave, but he stopped at the foot of the bed. "And I do hope you want me to come back. I have very few friends, and I count you as one of them. I suppose, when it comes down to it, that was what I came here to say... that, and that there's nothing more valuable to me than my friends."
*******
Maelstrom felt significantly lighter, as he made his way through the upper wards. The rest of it aside, knowing that Shala'Bekk was in good health made the world seem better. No one had sacrificed themselves for him.
It was his job to sacrifice his life, or at least the years of it, for others.
Still, it felt like there was a hanging dread, as he wondered if he actually would ever hear from the quarian woman again.
And she never did really say why she risked herself for my VI, he thought. I'm surprised I let her change the subject on me like that. Not very like myself at all...
He forced his attention back to the present, as he walked.
This particular part of the wards unnerved him. The buildings were several stories tall, and there were a significant number of narrow alleyways. There were fewer security cameras, though, and the people there tended to mind their own business. All he needed was some food for Zuko; he was still getting used to having a pet and had forgotten on his last outing.
He was on his way back to the shuttle now. A few hundred meters to the lift, then a quick series of twists and turns through rarely-used passages to find himself in a docking bay few other people even knew existed.
"Mister Maelstrom!" a voice called ahead of him and to his right. The man was dressed in an Alliance colonel's uniform, and there was an N-7 insignia on his shoulder and on the breast of his uniform. Maelstrom's gun hand went straight for his SMG, but the man held up both hands. "I'm not Cerberus."
"You know my name. That makes you almost as bad," he said, drawing the gun just to be safe, then starting back down the path, keeping the man in sight.
"In all fairness, I don't know your name. I can't find anything about your real identity."
"That's because I have none."
"Then what do I call you?" the N-7 asked.
"Nothing. If I hear you start to call me by that name again, I'll knock you out before it clears your lips. There are people whose ears are peeled for that name," Maelstrom replied. "I did not solicit your companionship, and you'd be wise to leave."
Keeping up and in-view, the man said, "I'm Colonel Willard Cronauer."
"Good for you. Now screw off."
Undeterred, he continued on, "I feel you should know, I've been authorized to make you a rather attractive offer in exchange for quite little from you."
"Does that offer involve you leaving me alone for the rest of your natural life in exchange for me insulting you? If so, I might be able to manage something."
"Listen, we're looking for information on the activities of one Esteban Bridges."
"Sounds fun. Good luck with that."
The man missed a step, cursed, and then caught back up. "We're prepared to offer you a full pardon for any crimes committed against the Alliance, as well as a sum of credits sufficient to retire however you want on any world of your choosing."
Maelstrom said nothing. It reminded him too much of his conversation with Shala'Bekk. Yet another person who thought his problems could just disappear if he wanted them too. He shook his head in frustration.
"Alright, then, what would you like? I'm certain we could come to an arrangement," the man said.
"At the moment? I'd like it if you shoved a grenade on a timer up your ass and walked away. That would make me very happy."
"Look, Mister M..."
Maelstrom froze in place, turning to the N-7 as a biotic glow enveloped him.
"Sir... We have more than enough on you to put you in prison for the rest of your life. I'm only asking you nicely because you might be of use to us someday."
Maelstrom laughed at that. "You have nothing on me. As if your delivery wasn't enough to give that away, I know more about what the Alliance has on me than you do. You think you're someone of importance because you're an N-7 Colonel. If the generals you answer to, who have read my file, knew how you had just approached me, you'd be busted back to private. I'm a dangerous person to cross, not just because of who I am, but because of my connections."
"I know you're someone who tries very hard to keep his movements secret, and I know enough about your movements that I imagine you'd be very uncomfortable if I made what I know public," the man threatened.
Maelstrom took a step closer to him, putting his SMG away. "Threatening that, Colonel, is a good way for you to end up dead."
"You don't scare me," the man said, staring straight into Maelstrom's faceplate.
"Then you're a moron," Maelstrom said.
He turned to continue on towards his shuttle, deliberately ramming his shoulder into the N-7's chest and sending him reeling back a couple meters. Conaeur huffed and puffed but stood in place. A passing young krogan bumped into Maelstrom, causing him to drop Zuko's food. Maelstrom was surprised that the krogan said nothing; they were usually honorable enough to either apologize or take it as a challenge, even when they were at-fault.
Maelstrom cursed as he quickly bent down to retrieve the food and turned back to the N-7. He expected that the man would be ready to start a brawl, given his seemingly-weakened posture, but instead he just wavered where he stood. It took Maelstrom a couple moments to notice the red hole in the man's head. In fact, it was about the time that a trail of blood started running down the bridge of the man's nose that he realized. Just as Cronaeur's already-dead body collapsed to its knees, Maelstrom rolled to face the opposite direction.
He saw another muzzle-flash, but no sound followed it. The dark figure almost a hundred yards away was shouldering a sniper rifle, though he could tell little more about the person, as he was only able to catch momentary glances from between the passing foot-traffic. To make a shot between the passing figures would have required an expert sniper. If that krogan had not bumped into him, Maelstrom knew he would now be dead.
Without hesitation, he started after the now-unarmed sniper at his best pace. A woman behind him screamed, and everyone stopped, turning to see what the cause was. That helped Maesltrom, as he was able to keep to a relatively straight path, rather than weaving between pedestrians. A couple people tried to capture Maelstrom, believing him to be the culprit, but a quick biotic push was the most it took to make any of them release.
Still dozens of yards ahead of him, the figure darted into a dark alleyway. Maelstrom smiled. He knew the layout of the area by heart; he would not have risked roaming a part of the Citadel he could not navigate every inch of by memory. That was a dead-end with no access to any of the adjacent buildings.
He skidded to a stop at the opening of the alleyway and was surprised to find no one there. Emily, who had been silently monitoring the situation, quickly cycled through half a dozen filters which should have been able to illuminate a infiltrator in stealth by looking for the imperfections in their cloak. Some of the higher-end devices were immune to the filters, but most were vulnerable. Still, he found nothing.
"Nice cloak," Maelstrom commented to the seemingly-empty alleyway. As he gathered biotic energy, he added, "But all cloaks have a weakness."
With that, he threw forward a massive push field that spanned the width of the alley and rose multiple meters into the air. He knew it would not be enough to do much damage, but it would snap them out of the cloak. As the field kicked up litter and debris, Maelstrom grinned to himself... until it hit the back wall without illuminating his foe.
He cursed, before hearing the sounds of CSEC pursuit and heading back towards the shuttle as fast as he could, though through a route so circuitous that no one would ever be able to track him back to his shuttle. A look over his shoulder revealed that CSEC were not the only ones in pursuit. A pair of Alliance marines were a few dozen meters closer to him than the Citadel police force, still far enough off that he could barely make them out.
Shit, Maelstrom thought, explains why the Colonel thought he could pick a fight with me and walk away.
He did not waste a moment longer, turning away from his pursuers and disappearing deep into the Citadel wards.
*******
Maelstrom panted, as the door to the shuttle sealed behind him. CSEC had called down more officers than he expected, and the Alliance marines proved more difficult to evade than he expected. In the end, he had to deviate from his expected route several times. Still, none of them even got close enough to get a really good look at his custom armor, and Emily had already intercepted and erased the video records of him being at the crime and fleeing. In retrospect, Maelstrom wished she had left the feeds alone, as they would have told a more complete story, but he knew that there was no way either he or the VI could have been prepared for such a surprise attack.
At least they still had all the video she intercepted. He quickly called up the footage acquired by Emily. It took him three times re-watching it, as she piloted them to another secret docking bay, before he believed what he saw. Where there should have been an assassin, there was an undefined, amorphous blob. Throughout the whole chase, it was the same.
"Damn," he yelled, pounding on the console, as they touched down again.
"Indeed. I found this most confusing," Emily agreed. "Should I forward this to the Shadow Broker for analysis?"
"Hold off for now," Maelstrom suggested, trying to grasp all angles he could look at it. Though it was extremely unlikely, she could be playing him for an angle. Perhaps she and Cerberus had mended their bridges, making him a liability. Were that the case, her earlier warning would simply have been a means of deflecting blame should her scheme fail. Then again, it could have been Bridges. Perhaps something had been discovered that he did not want getting out. That made no sense to him, though. It would have made far more sense for him to plant an explosive in the Vengeance while doing repairs. There was always the obvious- Cerberus.
"Jonathan, I just found something I think you'll want to see," Emily chimed in. A moment later, all monitors were showing various different feeds. On them was a detailed forgery, showing Maelstrom shooting the Colonel in cold blood. In these, the assassin was nowhere to be seen. Where Maelstrom thought he had cornered the person and thrown a biotic push, it just showed that he had hesitated when finding a dead end.
"Damn!" he yelled again.
"This is bad," she said, concerned.
"Understatement of the year," he muttered.
"What do you always tell me? We don't have time to brood over it. Right now, we need a plan."
Maelstrom nodded. He had a hard time telling who he could trust in this situation. If he thought about his actions over the past few months, though, they pointed to him trusting two people. One was in no condition to help herself, so he wrote her off. The other...
"Emily, can you locate Eric Lysander?" he asked.
"One moment..." She flickered, then returned with a concerned expression. "Jonathan, he's in the hospital. It seems he was poisoned and just barely survived."
He leaned back in his pilot seat for a moment. This was not Cerberus after all; they would have no reason to go after Lysander that he could think of. Maybe the Broker really did have a reason for wanting to scrap Bridges' team. Getting back up, he said, "Emily, prepare my original armor."
"That armor is less sophisticated," she reminded, blinking out of existence in the cockpit only to meet him in the main cabin. "You said you were only retaining it due to sentimentality."
"Well, now I need it," he said, opening the armory.
"Why?"
"Because there's someone out there looking for a man in black Collector armor."
*******
Maelstrom walked up the receptionist at the Presidium hospital. "Hello. I'm here to see Eric Lysander."
She typed away at her console for several moments before saying, "I'm sorry, Sir, but that patient has requested not to be disturbed."
"He'll want to see me," Maelstrom insisted.
"His instructions are quite cle..."
"He'll want to see me," he repeated, a shade darker.
"Relationship?"
Maelstrom thought a moment. "Old war buddy."
She sighed. "Alliance brass has already been here to try to get him back onboard."
Maelstrom filed the information away for later. Maybe the Alliance was cleaning up some loose ends to something. Still, that would not explain why he was targeted. "It's nothing like that."
"Name?"
"Black, Jonathan Mal."
"I'll be back in a minute," she said, sighing and heading to the back of the hospital.
Maelstrom hoped Lysander was in good enough condition to get the hint.
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