Freedom's Blade Command Deck

Stowing away the last of his belongings, Dara’shal took a seat on his bunk, a tiny rectangle of drab colored cloth over an uncomfortable frame. Not as small as some of the bunks on the old Migrant Fleet, but enough that Dara felt sorry for some of the taller beings on the crew. The Korgan would need his own arrangements—maybe her own, Dara couldn’t remember what gender the report said—but it was doubtful that the unnaturally tall Human or Turian would be given special accommodation on a ship this size. Unfortunate for them, but Dara couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of either of them trying to fit themselves into their beds.

Chucking softly to himself, the Quarian leaned back against the wall and massaged his shoulder. It was aching far more than it should and even carrying his rucksack had hurt. He carefully rotated the synthetic arm in its socket, wincing as he tried to lift at above shoulder height.

Dara let out a sigh. He had hoped to go another few months before taking apart the arm again, but something with the last replacement must have upset its balance and muscle calibrations, though he couldn’t figure out how. Then again, he wasn’t an engineer, and with his normal technician back in the Perseus Veil fixing this might be a problem. Maybe that Volus could have a look at it. Something to worry about after the briefing.

That is, if they didn’t have bigger things to worry about.

With a small grunt Dara hoisted himself to his feet, left hand still kneading the sore flesh around his shoulder. He brought up a schematic of the ship on his suit’s HUD and quickly committed the turns to the conference room to memory before heading for the exit.

He hadn’t noticed on the way in, but now that he was by himself Dara marveled at how spacious the ship seemed. Not only could the corridors easily fit two abreast, but every corner of the ship seemed brightly lit and everything from the doorframes to the paint on the bulkheads were embellished to give the illusion of openness. A human must have designed this ship—most humans seemed to have an irrational fear of confined spaces.

Stepping out of the elevator onto the command deck, Dara saw one of the new crew members, the Batarian, with his back against the wall and his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths. Dara wasn’t entire sure which colors were natural for his species, but he was fairly certain that pale blue wasn’t one of them.

“You doing all right there?”

The Batarian’s head jerked up and he quickly stood up straight, his ears twitching in a way that Dara had learned signified embarrassment. “Of course,” he said in that odd, resonating voice he species had, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Bottled up in an alien ship full of unfamiliar people and no idea what we’re doing here,” Dara said, leaning against the wall opposite the Batarian, “frankly, I’m not sure how well I’m doing either.”

The Batarian looked at him quizzically. “They haven’t told you anything either?”

Dara shook his head “From what I can tell they haven’t spilled anything except to the captain, and maybe the XO.”

“I guess it’s good to know that we’re all been kept equally ignorant,” the Batarian said with a mirthless chuckle. “I was beginning to wonder if. . .” he trailed off suddenly, his ears twitching again.

“If you were being singled out?” Dara asked.

The Batarian nodded. “I know it’s foolish to think that. I mean, the Union always says it’s here to fight against that kind of prejudice and that we’re all equals, right?”

“It’s not foolish at all.” Dara rubbed his shoulder absently. “I’d imagine that you’d know as well as anyone else how often people make lip service to good ideals without actually following them. The Union may be better than Council Space, but it can get ugly out here too. I don’t blame you for keeping your guard up.”

“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to find that comforting or not,” the Batarian said, “but thanks.” Dara was glad to see that his companion had relaxed, leaning back against the wall again and looking a bit more green than blue. “My name’s Kosak, by the way.”

“Dara’shal.” He wasn’t sure how Batarians greeted each other. If he were talking to a human, they’d shake hands now.

Kosak’s lower pair of eyes narrowed. “You don’t still need to wear that suit, do you?” He asked, gesturing vaguely at Dara. “If it’s okay for me to ask” he quickly added.

“Uh, no. Most Quarians can be fine without them at this point, actually.”

“Then why do you still wear it?”

Dara ran a hand over the brilliantly colored fabric of his hood. “Why do you wear an old Blue Sun’s suit?”

Kosak nodded again. “Well, we should be getting to the brief.”