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Commander Jonathan Titus

Commander of the Oracle cruiser, the Marathon.

0 · 801 views · located in Mass Effect Universe created by Bioware

a character in “Mass Effect: On the Edge”, originally authored by The Ghost Writer, as played by RolePlayGateway

History

Commander Johnathan Titus - born in 2158, one year after the First Contact War - started in the Alliance Navy's Officer's Acadamy at the age of eighteen as a lieutenant, eventually becoming a decorated N7 Marine. A skilled marksman, strategist, natural-born leader, and charmingly charismatic; Titus fit the role of a fire team leader perfectly. He had been tasked with spearheading multiple behind-the-lines operations (mainly counter-terrorism against human colonies), and had successfully earned his captain bars before his contract came up for renewal in 2182. By that time, however, Titus had become fed up with the bureaucratic politics of the Alliance. There is no record of any incident one might suspect of having happened around that time to change his attitude, but he had made up his mind. Titus terminated the contract when rather than accepting an extension on his commission. Less than a month later, he was recruited by Cerberus.

The Illusive Man saw Titus' potential in leading humanity against any threat, allowing the former marine to prove himself through a series of trials. Johnathan completed each of the Illusive Man's assignments with skill and grace, and in 2184, was given command of his own starship, the Vindicator. One of the most technologically advanced starships of the current era, well beyond most capabilities of even Alliance vessels – which pride themselves on being state-of-the-art the Vindicator is now a second home to a little over one hundred souls, including its commander.

Titus may not always see eye-to-eye with the Illusive Man, due to his extreme moral character, yet he remains a fiercely loyal Cerberus operative. Even though he is not as prejudice against alien species as his fellow Cerberus comrades, he shares the organization’s vision for the advancement of the human race. He is prepared to see that vision through to the end, even if it means bearing the weight of being “extremist” in the eyes of the galactic community.

Season 2

Titus' loyalty begins to waver whenever the Illusive Man's motives become questionable and his methods far too harsh and cold for Titus' moral compass to cope with. After Commander Horn falls into a life-threatening coma, Keown's horrible fate, Braden's shocking revelation of his past, and the continued pressure to make the right call, the Vindicator's commander even starts to question Cerberus.

Later on, Titus is contacted by an old friend in the Alliance: Sibyl Carson. Carson has managed to move up the ranks since their as N7s, and is now the director of Oracle, taking on the title of "the Operator". When she assists in recovering Adam Reynolds' tags for Braden, she subtly offers him a chance to return to the Alliance. Titus refuses the offer, but Sibyl doesn't give up. She dispatches Adam Harrison, another N7 Marine and Oracle agent, who tracks Titus' whereabouts to Omega.

When the Illusive Man learns that the Omni Cell commander is becoming a liability, he orders Janis Freeman to assassinate Titus while they're on Omega. Harrison intervenes in the nick of time, saving Titus' life and helping the commander and his crew escape Omega on an Oracle frigate dubbed the Marathon.

Season 3

...

So begins...

Commander Jonathan Titus's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Jacob Torx Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine
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Mass Effect
On the Edge
Season 3


Image


Jonathan Titus carefully stood just before the middle of the three large glass windows of the observation deck on what Oracle called “the Lookout”; a space station developed in secret, and masked by the bulk of the Alliance’s Fifth Fleet guarding Earth. This lone station served no military purpose, nor a diplomatic one; it was simply an outpost and small intelligence hub. In essence, it was just another dot among Oracle’s vast network of secret locations all throughout the Milky Way.

As Titus looked out over Earth, far below the Lookout, he wondered about his crew; or former crew. For the past two months he had simply been Jonathan Titus: former Alliance, former Cerberus, and now a simple civilian under the careful watch and custody of Oracle and the Alliance. In a sense, he was a prisoner; and he was waiting for the results of his commutation hearing.

Though Sibyl had personally vouched for Titus and his crew, the commutation board would have to render their unbiased ruling. Which of them would be deemed worthy to return to active duty for the Alliance? Which of them would be let go but barred from service? And which of them would be faced with war crimes, terrorism, dereliction of duty (had they been former Alliance); or charged with treason, espionage, sabotage, or anything else the board could dig up?

Whatever a price Jonathan would be forced to pay, if he must, he would gladly do so. He had no fear of what might happen to him, but he did fear for the men and women that had served Cerberus under his leadership. He had never, not once, given them an order thought to be malicious, or unbefitting of a soldier’s honor. He could not count a single moment when any of his crew had committed a criminal act, or done something that would be considered heinous or a war crime; save for the fact that they worked for Cerberus. That alone had been the whole reason for the stripping of his rank, and the detention under Oracle supervision. That alone was what the commutation board was dealing with right now. Yes, they had worked for a terrorist organization, and had carried out orders personally handed down by the galaxy’s most feared villain. Yet, in the process, they had managed to hold onto their dignity, their humanity.

As Jonathan stood there, with hands buried in his trouser pockets, he thought of Darcy and his witty jokes. The man’s careless bravado had pulled his ass out of the fire more times than one; and always a laughable punch line ready when he flew the Vindicator in for a daring rescue. Jonathan also thought of Lance, and how much he has grown and come to understand that hatred is a means only to the end of a man himself. Then there was Serena, her grace and professionalism always providing a worthy second opinion to any situation. If it wasn’t for her, Jonathan would lack in both the strength and wisdom he had come to gain over his time with Cerberus. And Veronica; oh, Veronica… Since he had been confined to the Lookout, Jonathan has only seen her but a few times. The entire crew had been separated and still remained apart from one another. He longed to look into her eyes again, to feel her breath against his lips, to embrace her in his arms.

And what of the children, Braden and Elizabeth? Would they be tried as war criminals despite their young age? Or the turians, Villayn and his lieutenants? There was also Sentry, who had just come aboard their mission, eager and ready to do the galaxy some good by putting his solidified knowledge of tech and weapons up against Reaper forces. And Elizabeth’s mother, Nina, who had been with them since the mission to Hephaestus, working alongside Terrance on upgrading some of the Vindicator’s more advanced tech.

These men and women were far more than just Cerberus grunts carrying out galactic crimes. They were and still are dignified, caring, and good-hearted people. During his own commutation hearing, their commander spoke for every single one of them. There was not a name on the Vindicator’s roster that he had not personally known and he had not vouched for. When the board asked what he thought of himself… He replied, “Ask my crew.”

Then there was Dianna Henricksen. Before picking her up on Omega, Titus had no idea that Dianna was actually an escaped convict and fugitive murderer wanted by the Alliance. This had come at little surprise to Titus. After all, she wouldn't be the only murderer on the Vindicator crew. But how would she fair in her own commutation hearing? Would the Alliance lock her back up?

Footsteps approached and stopped just beside him. He recognized Sibyl out of his peripherals and sighed before asking, “Well? What’s the verdict?”

He refused to look at her face, worried that the expression would only disappoint him, or give him the wrong idea. So, instead, he waited for her reply, clenching his fists in his pockets.

“Well…,” Sibyl quietly began, crossing her arms and looking out of the window at Earth with the same gloomy stance as her longtime friend, “…you’ll need a new uniform. I’m thinking one of blue and gold?”

Titus’s head jerked a full ninety degrees, so fast that he barely noticed the numbing pop in his neck. “Seriously?!”

Sibyl opened a clinched fist and revealed a brass pin in her palm, the Alliance’s arching “A” emblem. “You, and every one of your crew, have been cleared of all charges and offered a place in Oracle. While you aren’t officially apart of any of the Alliance’s fleet, you are Alliance again, nonetheless. You’re just working for me now.”

“Everyone?” Titus asked, still finding it hard to believe.

“Everyone,” Sibyl confirmed, nodding with a smile. “The two children you brought along were definitely a matter of debate for the board. But in light of your ability to teach, control, and above all, protect them; they deemed it okay for the kids to remain under your custody and supervision. However, you’re not Cerberus anymore. And while Oracle may or may not have skirted the lines of galactic treatise, we cannot condone child soldiers. Braden Reynolds is to no longer be used as a military asset. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am,” Titus nodded.

“Good. Welcome back, Captain.” Sibyl moved gracefully around and started walking toward the opposite end of the room that she had entered from.

“Captain?” Titus inquired, hastening to catch up to her.

Sibyl, again, smiled at his surprise. “You heard me right, Captain. The board cleared you of charges and handed you over to me; so to me falls the decision of your rank. I’ve decided to give you back the rank you had on your previous tour with the Alliance. Besides, a cruiser is better suited for a captain than a commander.”

“Oracle has a cruiser?”

“I see we’ve got a lot of talking to do,” Sibyl jested. “Come. Let’s take a walk.”




“Officer on deck!” one of the servicemen yelled to the top of his lungs as Sibyl Carson and Captain Titus boarded the Marathon. They had exited one of the portside airlocks and walked straight into the cruiser’s bridge; where every man and woman that had been working diligently at their stations stopped to stand at attention. The serviceman who had announced their presence was rendering a stiff and disciplined salute. “Ma’am. Sir,” he said in greeting.

Sibyl returned a salute of her own and shouted, “Carry on!” The bridge’s occupants returned to their work immediately.

Titus noted that the Marathon’s bridge was much larger than the CIC on the Vindicator. Then again, this was a cruiser; and a bridge is more than just a Combat Information Center. It’s the entire administration department of the ship. Communications, navigation, mission control, and warfare suites are all monitored and manipulated on the bridge. The helm, which was built in just below the bridge’s main deck, was ahead and to the left of the airlock, down a small ramp. That’s where Sibyl and Titus were headed to now.

“Darcy!” Jonathan said out of excitement to see his trusted helmsman and friend seated at the primary control terminal in the center of the stretched-out deck.

The man, who never looked better in a pristine Alliance uniform, jumped from his chair and bear hugged Titus. “Forgive the insubordination, Captain, but it’s damn good to see you! I was sure they were going to can you and put you in shackles.”

“Come on, Darcy,” Titus said. “If a control freak like the Illusive Man can’t hold me down, who is there that can?”

“True that.”

Titus nodded to Darcy’s controls. “So how does the Marathon compare to the Vindicator?”

“Well it’s like comparing a dog to a cat. Bigger, badder, and definitely a lot meaner; but not as quick and agile. However, where the Marathon lacks in mobility, it makes up for in flexibility. We’ve got four hangar bays with fighters and interceptors always ready to dish out some quick and deadly striking power in case we run up against frigates. And get this: our fighters are armed with new Thanix missiles capable of ripping a giant hole in ships the size of the Vindicator. Someone’s got to be pretty ballsy to take us on.”

Titus smiled, but more in response to seeing how happy and enthusiastic Darcy was. The man hadn’t lost a bit of his humorous charm since putting on that blue and white uniform. The two finished up their conversation and Titus let Darcy continue with whatever he was doing before he got there, and Sibyl led the way back into the bridge.

“Captain,” the familiar voice of Serena Taylor said over Titus’ shoulder.

Titus whirled around to find Taylor smiling at him; a datapad held down at her side. Her blond hair had been tied back into a neat ponytail and kept up and off her shoulders and the collar of her Alliance uniform.

“Taylor,” Titus said with a smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” she responded.

“So are you still my second in command?” he asked.

“What else would I be?” she asked with a grin.

“Well I’m sure Sib can always assign you to the mess hall,” Titus joked.

Taylor laughed and replied, “You know damn well I can’t cook. Oh and since the Alliance didn’t exactly have a rank for me, your friend, Miss Carson, pinned on a Staff Commander medal.”

“Commander Taylor,” Titus said, getting the feel of the rank and name. “Now that’s hot.”

As Sibyl and Titus continued their tour of the Marathon, Titus took the time to ask her a few questions regarding the ship itself.

“The frigate that picked me up on Omega was also named the Marathon. Does Oracle have two Marathons, or what?”

“Correct,” Sib said. “The frigate is named after the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE, and the cruiser is named after the same city. Greek-Athenian history. The frigate uses the same stealth technology that the Normandy SR had. We tried to find ways to apply the same tech to a cruiser, but as it just happens, that’s a little out of our technological league right. But we haven’t given up on the idea. We wanted to give you the cruiser, rather than the frigate, because we’re well aware that the Illusive Man has several of his cronies looking for you right now and the extra muscle will help.”

“Thanks,” Titus mumbled, unsure just how eager Invaru and Ross must be to get their hands on him.

“All of your fighters, interceptors, and Kodiak shuttles are equipped with stealth tech, though. So don’t worry, you can still get the drop on your enemies planetside.”

“How many other ships does Oracle have?”

“Militarized ships? That’s it. One frigate, one cruiser; both named the Marathon. We have several recon frigates, but they aren’t built for combat and have only defensive weapon systems. If Oracle ever needs to use any heavy hitters, we call up Aurora.”

“The Aurora Initiative?” Titus stopped in the middle of the corridor they were walking through. “I remember running into them a couple of times.”

Sibyl stopped and turned to face her friend. “Yes; and I’m sorry about that, Jonathan. You’ll be pleased to know that I personally insured Captain Shire was replaced as the director of the Aurora Initiative.”

“Who’s in charge of it now?”

Sibyl grinned. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The ship was noticeably darker than the lighter, utilitarian environment of a Cerberus vessel. While the chrome and osmium was still there, as reflective and brilliant as ever, the corridors and main areas of the decks were kept in low light. This was typical of most Alliance warships. Even though a cruiser had enough power to light a city, much of that energy was reserved for emergency situations; thus non-essential systems, including unnecessary lights, were only used when they were actually needed.

The Marathon was comprised of ten decks and was currently home to two hundred and fifty souls. Not surprisingly, however, the decks weren’t all that crowded. With ten of them, more than twice the space the Vindicator had, there was plenty of room for the marines and servicemen to move about unhindered and not feel cramped.

The first deck was the bridge, helm, primary QEC chamber, and the Captain’s Quarters. Sibyl and Titus were now traversing the fifth deck, which held two of the enlisted ranks quarters, the gymnasium, lounge, mess hall, and an observation deck on each side of the ship.

Titus had to admit, he was greatly impressed with the Marathon. It had a bolstering amount of resources that rivaled Cerberus cruisers, and the technological upgrades that Oracle had installed made it a finally cut gem. The more he toured the ship, the wider his smile became and the more excited he was to be back in an Alliance uniform. As he moved throughout the decks and their corridors, he saw familiar faces. Veronica was as happy as ever to kiss him and whisper devious plans for the night in his ear; and the turian trio went out of their way to actually smile and slug his shoulder (all three of them). Lance, of course, was already talking up an egotistical storm about how he made his “new uniform shit look good”; and the timid Braden Reynolds grappled onto Titus’ torso without shame. Sentry wouldn’t shut up about all the new toys he’s able to play with now in the armory on deck seven; and Dianna set aside her moodiness long enough to actually nod in Titus’ direction.

Dianna simply being there meant good news. But curious as to why, Titus asked Sibyl, "Mind if I ask how Miss Henricksen survived her hearing?"

"She never had one," was all that Sibyl replied with. The neutral tone and obvious unwillingness to carry that conversation forward let Titus know that, that was all he needed to know. Besides, it wouldn't really surprise him too much if Oracle had other blacklisted or disavowed assets working for them.

Now on deck seven, Titus and Sibyl had just left the armory and were headed towards the hangar bays. Before they arrived, however, Sibyl took a detour and headed in a completely different direction. Titus noted that the sign on the bulkhead read “Training Chambers” next to the arrow pointed to wear Sibyl was heading for.

“What am I going to find down here?” Titus asked as they passed through the opening blast doors and into a large white chamber in the shape of a giant box. The lighting in the room was practically blinding compared to the darker environment of the rest of the ship and Titus’ eyes had to take a second or two to adjust.

When he could see clearly again, there was a man standing ahead of them wearing a black tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. Sweat dripped down his face and forehead as he concentrated on the cushion-clad opponent before him. The two were holding what appeared to be katana.

“What in the…” Titus began.

“Captain, I’m sure you remember Agent Harrison,” Sibyl said, gesturing an open hand to the man in the tank top, who was now lashing out skillfully at his training opponent. The suited man deflected the swipes with ease, but Harrison used his free hand and struck his opponent with what Titus instantly recognized as a biotic push. The tell-tale violet hue and electric pulses were unmistakable.

“So he’s a spy, a ninja, and a biotic?”

“Agent Harrison,” Sibyl replied, “is one of the first recruits of a new initiative Oracle is heading off. You and I both know from experience in the field that the N7 program needs more than just muscle nowadays. It needs flexibility, ingenuity, and variety. I’m making sure they get that, and I’ll be the one to deliver. The recruits aren’t ready yet, but someday soon… they will be. You should see some of the other specialists we’re training up. Biotic ninja spies are only the beginning.” She finished her last sentence with a smirk.

Harrison relaxed his katana and walked over to where Carson and Titus were standing. “Sir,” he said, and offered a salute after transitioning the sword to his left hand. After the Captain returned his own salute, Harrison said, “If I may, it’s an honor to be serving under your command. I’ve read your dossier and you had quite the reputation in the N7 before you left. Even all the stuff you did when you worked with Cerberus is commendable.”

Titus never got to see the face agent that saved his life since he had never removed his visor, but now that he was looking the man in his brown eyes, he was quite surprised to see how young Harrison was. The first words out of his mouth were, “How old are you, kid?”

“Twenty, sir,” he instantly replied.

“You weren’t much older when you started hitting your stride, Jonathan,” Sibyl reminded. “Adam, here, in more ways than one, is a lot like you.”

“Adam, huh?” Titus extended an open hand and the young man took it with a firm shake. “Glad to have you on the team.”

“Glad to be here,” he replied. Adam’s handshake was relaxed, loose; the sign of a very timid young man. His physique was average, but that was typical of most biotics since it was hard to gain a lot of muscle when they constantly burned anything they ate within a matter of a few hours. His smile was wide, eyes soft, and his short brown hair a slight mess. He looked as though he should be in college, rather than be an N7 marine with a damn sword.




Braden’s room wasn’t as spacious as the one he had on the Vindicator, but it did come with more shelf space for personal effects, a bookcase filled with an assortment of novels for teens (courtesy of Sibyl Carson), and a private bathroom. The bathroom had to be the one thing that the boy was most thankful for, as Cerberus vessels hardly account for dependents of crew members to be aboard, especially minors. Braden had to take care of business in the latrine aboard the Vindicator like everyone else, but had to time his showers carefully, with an officer standing outside to hold off anyone until he was done; per Titus’ strict orders.

The room was still an officer’s quarters, however, and so he had the luxury of a double-windowed view of the galaxy, perfect ambient lighting for relaxation, carpeting soothing to tired feet, and cushioned furniture that one could fall asleep on instantaneously. Another accommodation that his new room had, that the one on the Vindicator didn’t, was a music system with hidden speakers in every wall.

Braden approached the small haptic interface on the wall that controlled his sound system and surfed through the many different tracks until he found a title that seemed familiar. When he pressed the play command, the speakers allowed the music to slowly fade in. He instantly recognized the opening beats and strings of the new age track and his mind raced back to his days on Omega. He remembered the song as one of many popular hits that entertained the various drug-induced, alcohol-poisoned, patron scum of Afterlife. In an instant, he was lost in painful memories.

“Who’s this?” one of Gavin’s clients asked. The constant flashing of red and orange club lights distorted the human’s facial expressions, but Braden knew the man was grinning by the malicious sound of his voice.

Gavin’s calloused hand tightened over Braden’s shoulder, sparking pain from a very recently inflicted wound, and barked, “Not for sale.”

“Is he at least available for rent?” the human asked, waving a credit chit in the air, further impressing the two asari glued to either side of him at his VIP booth.

Gavin’s silence meant that he was considering the offer, probably debating a price. Braden actually prayed that he would accept. One night, that’s all he asked for; one night to get away from his batarian owner. He wouldn’t technically be free, probably ever, but it would at least [i]feel
like freedom. Anything was better than being Gavin’s chikolah.

“Two thousand credits,” Gavin demanded. Braden’s hopes were instantly slashed to pieces. Two thousand was a steep price to pay for one night. Gavin always informed the client of his prices based on a nightly fee. The poor boy just knew that the human would refuse to pay that much for him. But yet, he still tried.

“Fifteen,” the human bartered.

“Nineteen,” Gavin countered.

“Make it seventeen, and I’ll buy some of your dust, too.” Braden was shocked. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t going to walk away without a fight. There was still hope after all.

“Fine,” Gavin grunted, shoving Braden so hard and so fast that he flopped over the table, knocking over one of the asari’s drinks. “Don’t be so clumsy, you idiot boy!” Gavin shouted, showing that, even though he was renting out his most prized possession, he still held authority over him. He then said to the human, “One night. That’s it. And the dust will be a thousand; or are you going to try and barter with me on that?”

“Of course not, my friend,” the man said. “And I’ll be sure to return the kid in pristine condition.”[/i]

Lizzie’s knocking dragged Braden back out of his horrible past. She was standing in his doorway, leaning partially inside; a gleeful smile on her face. But that smile quickly faded when she saw her boyfriend trying to fake one of his own. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Uhm, nothing,” Braden stuttered, instantly turning away to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. His free hand shot up to the interface to cut off the music, but before he could return it to his side, he felt Lizzie’s delicate fingers catch his wrist.

“Hey,” she said, her whispering voice soothing to his ears. “You can tell me.”

“You’d never understand.” As much as he hated to say that to her, he knew he was right. How would anyone ever know what he went through without having gone through the same torment themselves? How does one tell another that they were a slave; bidded on, used and abused over and over. He was nothing but a toy to sadistic psychopaths, drunkards, and drug addicts. He was a ruthless batarian’s pet and personal property.

“Maybe not,” Lizzie replied. “But you can still talk to me about it. I’m always willing to listen to you, no matter what or when.” Elizabeth’s hand tightened around Braden’s and they stood there for a moment, together in silence.

“Okay,” the boy finally said.




With the targeting reticule lined up for a perfect headshot, Villayn carefully squeezed his talon back on the Viper’s trigger until he felt the recoil of the round firing off and the subtle discharge ringing throughout the long range shooting gallery. Azuric remained peering down the rifle’s scope to observe the headshot in the target’s human-shaped silhouette.

“Very nice,” Sentry’s voice commented over the range’s intercom, coming from the safety of the control room behind Villayn. “Keep that up and you’ll be able to knock out one target per minute.”

“It would be easier for me to concentrate without the sarcasm,” the captain quipped. “Besides, perfect precision shots like that require patience. Something I doubt a loose-cannon like yourself would understand.”

Villayn heard Sentry’s happy chuckle before the armorer replied, “Is that a challenge?”

“Please,” Azuric said. “Don’t be so foolish. A turian can out-shoot a human any day.”

“Someone’s cocky.”

The hissing of the blast doors at the back of the gallery caught Villayn’s attention and he turned his head to see Darak walking inside. Thumbing a talon over his shoulder, the lieutenant said, “Have you checked out the gym yet? Two whole stories. Pretty nice.” Darak stopped next to Villayn and turned to look down the range at his captain’s target. After shrugging his shoulders he said, “Good, but... not your best.”

Sentry started balling in laughter over the intercom as Villayn leaned back, appearing to be visibly insulted his lieutenant’s observation. But he soon dropped the act and said, “I admit, maybe I’ve lost my touch after two months of not being allowed to handle a weapon. I didn’t think the Alliance would actually hold us in custody along with the rest of Titus’ crew. Not until the hierarchy officially gave us the cold shoulder, anyway.”

“Yes, but it was definitely for the best, sir,” Darak reminded him. “I much prefer what we’re doing now anyway.”




The main conference room on the Marathon was a lot larger than the one on the Vindicator, though not as dramatically perplexing; that is, it didn’t have a giant half-dome that looked out into the depths of space. Instead, it was enclosed by in an oval of glass, where the walls of the corridor wrapping around the outside had several mounted paintings from the late 21st century, a few more recent masterpieces; all of which were of a contemporary style. The glass surrounding the conference room doubled as both a sound barrier and a cradle for several screens of information. White lighting kept the area brightly lit, a nice contrast from the rest of the ship.

Captain Titus was seated at the head of the oval table, with many other faces, some new and some familiar, occupying the other seats. Titus held a blue datapad in his hand and quietly scanned through the briefs of each person at the table. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he placed the datapad on the surface of the black, marble-top table, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Well. It will definitely take me some time to memorize each of your names, but no more than a few days, tops. Anyway, let’s move on to the first order of business; which will be the cooperation between the ex-Cerberus personnel that served with me before and now, and the have-been Alliance personnel also serving aboard this ship. I want to make this perfectly clear: we are all in this fight together, through thick and thin. If anyone has a problem working with another individual aboard this ship, they are expected to speak up to their supervisor... with the proper paperwork in hand requesting a transfer to a new assignment. I have a very low tolerance for childish bickering.

“Now that I’ve made myself clear on that issue; let’s move on to something lighter. Security, for instance.” Titus looked down the table towards a man with strikingly white hair and a matching beard. Though his hair would make one assume the man is ready for retirement, he was enjoying a good stride in his mid thirties. “Staff Lieutenant Torx,” the Captain addressed.

“Sir.”

“How strong is your unit?”

As if expecting the question right from the start, the Marathon’s Chief of Security Operations replied with a slight Texan accent, “Twenty are ‘round-the-clock security specialists, Captain. They operate on rotating shifts. The rest of the one hundred and twenty-five marines aboard the Marathon are all capable of performing security tasks should we be boarded.”

“Sounds good.” Titus looked down one seat toward Sentry. “Weapons count, Sentry?”

With a smile, the armorer replied, “I’ve got 200 Avengers, 75 Mattocks, 20 Mantises and Vipers, 100 M-77’s, 100 Katanas - er, the shotgun kind, not the fancy sword kind that boy-wonder has.” Sentry nodded in Harrison’s direction, who was sitting right across from him. Adam only rolled his eyes and Sentry continued from where he left off. “200 Predators, 50 Phalanxes, and... well, a whole shit ton of other goodies. I even have a few Argus assault rifles down there.”

“So we have enough to start a Second Contact War,” Titus mused. “Good.”

Titus’s eyes moved to the opposite side of the table and he scanned down until he found a young first class serviceman with dark brown hair and a not-quite-five o’clock shadow. He had to be as young as Adam by the looks of it. “Connor... DeMarco, was it?”

The young serviceman nervously straightened his posture in his chair and stammered out a quick “Yes, sir!”

“Don’t be so skittish, kid,” Titus remarked. “You’re my comm specialist, correct?”

“That’s correct, sir. I monitor all in- and out-bound tactical communiques, maintain the QECs and Prophet’s connection, and I’m also your primary handler in the field.”

“And off the field?” Harrison asked aloud, looking right at Connor.

Everyone in the room found themselves glancing back and forth between the two men, wondering just what in the world Harrison was referring to, especially when Connor's blushing red face started to contrast with the white and blue of his uniform.

“Okay...,” Titus said, finally halting the awkward moment. “Well, DeMarco, welcome to the team. Moving on...”

[Begin playing Infinite, Immortal - from Fired Earth Music]

By the time Titus had briefly learned the job of everyone in the conference room, his heavy eyes beckoned sleep and he decided it was time to wrap up their little meet n’ greet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, standing up from his seat, “this mission is not going to be an easy one. Our goals are many, and diverse. Cerberus is hell-bent on ensuring that I’m dead, and Oracle is buried. The Collectors are going to continue to try and abduct unsuspecting humans from fringe colonies. And, hell, I’m sure the Shadow Broker is planning on making a few plays, himself. But no matter who our enemy is, or what they throw at us, or how long we must travel the stars; nothing can stop us as long as we stick together. Lives are counting on our success, people. Let’s not let them down. Dismissed.”




"Are you ready, Captain?" Commander Taylor asked as Titus walked up to stand beside her at the galaxy map. "Way-points plotted and uploaded to the helm. Waiting on Alliance Naval Traffic Control to give us the green light."

Titus smiled and he held his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath as he glanced around the bridge. All eyes were now on him. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, waiting for the go-order from both the traffic controllers and Titus himself. Far ahead at the helm, Titus could see Darcy turning around in his seat to also join in on the dramatic stare, silhouetted by the full magnificent glow of Earth far below them all.

The speakers in the ceiling above crackled and a male's voice echoed through the bridge. "A-N-T-C to Marathon, standby for green light."

This was it.

Thirty seconds later, the voice came back. "A-N-T-C to Marathon, you are green in three.... two.... one. Clear to leave station. ... Good luck, Marathon."

Titus opened his mouth, but paused momentarily to savor this moment. It's not everyday you get launch off on a new mission with a new ship and new crew members. When he was ready, and when everyone had just about had enough of hanging onto the edge of their seats to hear the few simple words, the Captain bellowed, "You heard the man! Darcy! Put us on course to the Sol Relay!"

"Aye-Aye, Captain!" Darcy yelled back over the deafening sound of applause that filled the entirety of the command deck.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Jacob Torx Character Portrait: Jason Trox Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco
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Damn I look like my grandfather.” Jacob Trox muttered with his light Texan accent, as he starred deeply into the small mirror in his quarters. He kept stroking a palm through his thin hair white hair atop his head. He had been grey for a long time, though he was only in his thirties, but it was always covered up by his hat so the only hint of age you could see was the short white beard that sat on his chin like a mass of cotton on his face. Why did you have to go grey early dad you rat bastard , he thought silently to himself. He stopped fiddling with his old mans hair, before he decided to hang himself from depression. He instead began to depress himself with the attire that was forced upon him by the alliance. It wasn’t that he disliked looking official, he just disliked the lack of comfort that came with looking official. The clothing was always too loose in places you didn’t need it, and too tight in places you did. He sighed deeply to himself “Now I remember why I hated being a cop.”

He stepped away from the mirror and strode his way over to the bed that sat in the middle of the dimly quarters. As he did he admired the stirrups, saddles, and pictures of his him state of Texas that flanked the walls around the bed. They might have told him he can’t wear dusters or cowboy hats, but damn it he was going to bring some decoration for his room. He reached under the bed and retrieved a large metallic box that had been delivered to him just the other day by an Alliance requisitions officer. He set the box atop his bed and pressed the open button onto of its lid. The box made a smooth metallic grinding sound as the lid split into two separate sections that slid to either side of the box, revealing a set of armor and a large 1940s style wooden baton. “Perfect” Jacob grinned as he looked as his delivery. He picked up the chest plate that shinned like a diamond in the dim light of his quarters, across the right side of the chest plate it read “Military Police” and on the left, just above heart level, was an alliance emblem. The armor was split into separate sections, unlike the average set of military armor.

He ran his hand over the smooth grey metal of the chest armor, past the white lettering and the two dark blue lines that ran vertically down its center. He puffed some air, never thought I’d be a flat foot again , he thought to himself. He turned the armor around and looked at the large white lettering that read POLICE [/i] before slipping the armor over his head. After a few moments of fiddling with it’s positioning, he finally pressed the back and front halves together, making a sharp clank as the two linked together through the magnets hidden within its kinetically protected plates. He grabbed the rest of the armor, which consisted of elbow, forearm, shin, knee and fist guards, and strapped them on. Still uncomfortable as hell , he thought as he moved to the mirror to check that everything was in order. Yep, just as he thought, he looked exactly like a cop again, felt just as uncomfortable as one too. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, 20th century, tin Texas Ranger badge and looked at it with a sympathetic stare “At least I don’t have to wear that damn built that you did.” He said to the badge as if it were a person in the room with him.

He looked at the time displayed on the holographic clock next to his bed; it was almost time for his new boss’s group therapy session. He walked back to the box, grabbed the baton then hooked it to his built with the magnet implanted within the oak wood. Call him old fashioned, but he preferred a nice solid object to the fancy electronic batons they used today. He tried to get a stun gun, but the Requisitions officer said that he didn’t have a license for any company that sold them. Oh well he thought as he patted his giant wooden stick this would get the job done . He grabbed his pistol and attached it to his side as he walked towards the door, which he had hung a steer skull above. The doors slid open with a rush of chilled air that shook Jacob to his bones. He walked out into the dimly lit hall; the Marathon was so dark all the damn time. He didn’t like it, made him strain his eyes to see down the hall which just plain out pissed him off. He looked back at his quarters, at least I have my own room he thought as the doors slid shut.

He continued down the hall past countless barracks and quarters, all full of people he didn’t, or just barely, knew. He wasn’t sure if he would care to know them really, all these career alliance types were so prim and proper all the damn time made him a little sick to his stomach. Maybe he should have just turned down the offer and stuck to his own business out in the terminus systems. But the money was good, he smiled as he reached into his left side pocket and took out a small flask decorated with engravings of Asari, it let him afford some great hooch. He unscrewed the top and took a swig, “Yeah, that’s the stuff.” He whispered to himself as he replaced the cap and shoved back into his pocket. He continued down the shiny halls, past uptight marines and other crew members, before stopping at a door before the elevator leading that would take him to the deck where the boss had requested his presence. Oh what was that guys name again? Typo? Titanic? Tidies? Tummy Tickler? He didn’t remember but it was something like that. He knocked on the door

“Jason, you still in there?” he called out to the occupant of the room

“Yeah, what’s it too you?” Jason growled through the door

Jacob glared through the door “Don’t you use that tone with me boy, or I’ll come in there and whoop your ass!” he snarled

“Hmmm” Jason answered unconvincingly

“Get out here and met some of the other kids, I here they are somewhere around here.” He ordered

“I don’t want to meet the other kids, probably just a bunch of dumbasses.” Yep, he was his father’s son alright, that’s what worried him. He needed to get more social; even if he refused to talk to Jacob like a human he needed some interaction.

“Just do it, son or I’ll hogtie you and hang you from the hull!” Jacob snapped, this time there was no reply. That boy is going to be the death of me he thought as he headed for the elevator and started his way to the deck containing the conference room.

Jacob strutted into the conference room, his foot long baton knocking against his left leg guard, resting his right arm on his pistol like some sheriff from a Wild West movie. He was the last one too, that was never good. He must have heard the time wrong. Oh well, he saw that Commander Tummy Tickler, or whatever his name was, sat at the front of the table. The reason he could see him was thanks to the fact that this part of the ship actually had enough light to see your own hand in front of your face. The glass around the room acted like computer screens and lightly reflected the figures at the conference table. What a rag tag bunch they were. Commander, Tummy Tickler was scanning each of them over with his eyes and studying a small data pad, when suddenly he stopped, leaned back and began.

“Well. It will definitely take me some time to memorize each of your names, but no more than a few days, tops. Anyway, let’s move on to the first order of business; which will be the cooperation between the ex-Cerberus personnel that served with me before and now, and the have-been Alliance personnel also serving aboard this ship. I want to make this perfectly clear: we are all in this fight together, through thick and thin. If anyone has a problem working with another individual aboard this ship, they are expected to speak up to their supervisor... with the proper paperwork in hand requesting a transfer to a new assignment. I have a very low tolerance for childish bickering.” Sir, yes sir, Jacob said in a stereotypical marine voice within his own head.

“Now that I’ve made myself clear on that issue; let’s move on to something lighter. Security, for instance.” Captain, Tummy Tickler said. Jacob was already running through a series of questions he might ask in his mind. He wanted to make himself look good, and then he might get some slack around here and get some more Red Giant, Whiskey and Asari made cigars from Thessia when his supply ran short. “Staff Lieutenant Torx,” The boss addressed him by name and rank. Jacob couldn’t lie, being he was basically a gun for higher he couldn’t complain about the high rank they gave him.

“Sir.” Jacob responded, resisting the urge to call him Tummy Tickler

“How strong is your unit?” The captain inquired. Really that was it? Lighter then he had hoped and too uptight for his liking. He wanted men who were strictly disciplined but didn’t feel the need to point out every break of protocol.

“Twenty are ‘round the clock security specialists, Captain.” Tummy Tickler he thought to himself, fighting not to burst out laughing as he continued “They operate on rotating shifts. The rest of the one hundred and twenty-five marines aboard the Marathon are all capable of performing security tasks should we be boarded.” He had ordered that the security specialists paint over the words on their armor that read [b] SECURITY
and replace it with the big bold POLICE instead. In his experience security was somebody you feared would call the cops, but police you feared because you knew they would tack direct action and put foot to ass. Fear commands respect, men may hate us, but we do not ask for their love…only their fear.” He quoted Erwin Rommel from the 20th century. Probably a little harsh considering police are there to protect the people, but only two things command respect in this universe. Politeness and fear, and criminals didn’t respect politeness so obviously the latter was the only option. That was Jacob’s opinion.

“Sounds good.” Titus looked down one seat toward Sentry. “Weapons count, Sentry?” He addressed another man in the room. The guy looked like an asshole to Jacob, but hey if he did his job and stayed out of his way he could care less. Jacob kind of tuned out the weapons count since he already knew it for security purposes, but he did partially take notice when Captain called upon a boy by the name of Connor. The boy shot up straight like he had just seen a group of Asari strippers walk by “Yes, sir?” replied. This kid was new, he could tell. Probably nineteen or twenty, he was going to get on Jacobs nerves with all this nervous high and tight shit. Maybe he was just in a bad mood today; he needed a long drinking session. The kid blabbed his mouth for a bit, and Jacob just thought about the long drink he would have after this damn meeting….

*******

Jason opened the door into the dimly lit hallway; it was a nice change from the usual blinding lights of the Citadel. He stoked a hand through his short blonde hair and moved to the elevator. He pressed the button for a random deck; he had been locked away in his room since he got here, so it was time to take a look around. The door opened and he found himself starring right at a mess hall. Oh yeah baby, jack pot, just what he was looking for. He made his way over to the service section of the hall, ducking and weaving through tables and chairs, and grabbed himself a glass of water and a roll before continuing on his tour. This place was pretty amazing, the dim lights, the soldiers, and it was a lot less crowded then the Citadel where you bumped into some alien every step you took. Arm room was always a luxury for him on the Citadel, at least when he snuck out of the house. His uncle never let him go places, so that was another plus about being on this ship. No C-SEC uncle to tell him where he couldn’t go or what he couldn’t do, his father didn’t give a rat’s ass about him and the Marines just ignored him for the most part so he could do whatever he wanted.

He made his way down halls, and went from deck to deck trying to find something to keep his attention. Finally he found something that got his attention, a young blonde standing in the doorway to a room. He grinned to himself hubba, hubba, I knew this place had to have some kind of fun. he strode his way over like he was some smooth cat and stepped up right behind her.

“Maybe not,” The girl said to some guy inside the room. He looked like he was going to break down and cry or something. Huh, and this chick must have been into him. “But you can still talk to me about it. I’m always willing to listen to you, no matter what or when.” Seriously? Jason thought as the girl took the boys hand.

“Okay.” The boy replied. Seriously? This guy and her?

“Well hello there.” Jason said with a self righteous smirk on his face.

The girl turned around and faced Jason “Oh…hello, I didn’t see you there. Who are you?” she asked, with a slight irritation in her voice. The guy just glared at him from behind her like he had just come over and punched a baby in the face.
“Names Jason Trox.” He replied with a grin “And who are you lovely girl” he asked with arrogance overflowing in his words.

“Lizzie.” She answered “And this is Braden.” Branden huh? He looked like a push over. But, Jason thought that about everybody, who wasn’t him.

“Nice to meet you Lizzie” he said, totally ignoring Braden “Want to go somewhere and talk a little?” he said with so much self pride that it stunk.

Lizzie gave him a dirty look “If you don’t mind we are busy.” She snarled as she walked inside the room with Braden and closed the door in Jason’s face. Fine then, kind of an uppity chick wasn’t she? He grinned, in time he thought. He turned and walked for the elevator, maybe he would go find the pilot. Jason had heard he was some good fun.

*****

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Captain, Tummy Tickler said, standing up from his seat, “this mission is not going to be an easy one. Our goals are many, and diverse. Cerberus is hell-bent on ensuring that I’m dead, and Oracle is buried. The Collectors are going to continue to try and abduct unsuspecting humans from fringe colonies. And, hell, I’m sure the Shadow Broker is planning on making a few plays, himself. But no matter who our enemy is, or what they throw at us, or how long we must travel the stars; nothing can stop us as long as we stick together. Lives are counting on our success, people. Let’s not let them down. Dismissed.” Oh great, he was one of those “inspirational” bosses. He was going to be one of those people who would make an inspirational speech on bowl movements if people could listen to it. He could just see it coming. Just like the Chief at the Police Department he worked at when he was in his early twenties.

He stood up and exited the room as fast as he could; he needed a stiff drink after that long and grueling waste of time. He made his way to the elevator with a purpose behind his steps and slammed on the button to take him to the deck containing his quarters. As soon as the doors closed he took his flask out and began to chug the last bit of Red Giant whiskey he had filled it with. That was the good stuff. Once the doors opened he shoved the flask back into his pocket and walked over to his son’s door and knocked.

“You still in there Jason?” there was no answer. “Jason?” He called again, but still no answer. That meant he either listened or he wasn’t talking to him yet again. Ever since he had gotten him from his brother on the Citadel, the kid hadn’t treated him like his father. Oh well, eventually he would come around, but right now it was drinking time. Jacob strode his way over to his quarters, opened the door and locked it tight behind him. He threw off his gear onto the bed, then made his way to his cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. In it was a safe with a fingerprint code and number code lock. He punched in the numbers 73301 the zip code for his home town of Austin, Texas. He then placed his thumb on the fingerprint scanner and the safe made a loud clank as it unlocked. Inside was a small box of “ Thessia Premium grade cigars those were for a special occasion, so he instead took a larger box marked “ Matriarch Zeena’s finest ” another good Asari made cigar, but nowhere the grade of the Thessia Premium. He took a cigar, then stuck the box back into the safe and locked it. He then made his way over to a small liquor cabinet next to his bed and took out one of his four bottles of Red Giant Whiskey, moving aside a bottle of Serrice Ice, Whiskey yet another special occasion item, and grabbed a glass, then poured himself a shot. He lit up his cigar with a lighter he kept inside a drawer at the top of the liquor cabinet and began his night of drinking. Soon he would be drunk enough to take out that data pad in the drawer with his lighter…and relive those painful memories.

The intercom in his quarters soon sparked to life and a male voice came through "A-N-T-C to Marathon, standby for green light." here we go Jacob thought “A-N-T-C to Marathon, you are green in three.... two.... one. Clear to leave station. ... Good luck, Marathon."

There was a moment of silence before Captain, Tummy Ticklers voice cracked over the intercom "You heard the man! Darcy! Put us on course to the Sol Relay!"

“Aye-Aye Captain” the pilots voice replied back.

Jacob raised his glass in the air “Yippee-ki-yay” he whispered under his breath, as the ship sped off for the SOL relay.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco Character Portrait: Lance Williams
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"What was that about?" Connor demanded when he and Adam moved over to a quiet corner outside the conference room. The look on his face still had a bit of fluster to it, but his eyes betrayed just how upset he had become at Harrison's not-so-subtle flirting.

Adam only shrugged his shoulders and said, "Hey, man, I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I didn't mean to do that to you."

Connor shook his head but waited for a few individuals to pass them by before he spoke up again, not wanting their conversation to be overheard by eavesdroppers. "Look, I just don't want us to get caught. The crew may have dismissed your comment as harmless joking between two guys, but another could out us."

By now the two were completely alone, and Adam placed his hands on Connor's shoulders, bringing himself closer to the serviceman. A romantic relationship between an officer and an enlisted was strictly forbidden. Fraternization, the term applied to such unprofessional conduct in the military, can be punishable by dishonorable discharge. But Adam and Connor were both willing to risk that fate in order to be together. Most aboard the Marathon knew that Adam was openly bisexual, but no one knew about Connor being gay. It wasn't exactly something the young man is proud of, coming from a family that still holds on to dying traditional values.

"Relax," Adam intimately whispered before pecking Connor on the forehead. "We're going to be just fine. Besides, I have a feeling that Captain Titus isn't the type of person to bring down the hammer if we're caught. Just be yourself, and keep doing your job, and we'll be okay."

Connor nodded several times, convinced by Adam's assurance, and said, "Okay. Okay, you're right. I'm, ah... I'm gonna go back to my post on the bridge now. Everyone should be getting ready for our send off."






Titus sat down behind the console at his desk in the captain's quarters. In one hand he held a freshly brewed cup of steaming coffee, laced with smooth Irish cream and loaded with several packets of pure cane sugar. His previous quarters, aboard the Vindicator, didn't offer the convenience of a fancy coffee maker built into the bulkhead. The Alliance sure has upgraded, he thought to himself.

With a tap from his free hand's index finger, the console sprang to life before him and a series of small haptic projections materialized above the desk's surface. The blinding white of Oracle's interfaces made him blink several times and he had to take a moment for his eyes to adjust. He had been used to the orange interfaces of Cerberus' operating systems, and the change in the color scheme would take some getting used to. On the screen immediately in front of him, a flashing message icon caught his attention. Titus tapped the icon to bring up a list of important messages. The first message, and one tagged with a high priority indicator, was from Sibyl. Jonathan wasted no time in opening her message.

Titus,

By now, the Marathon will have reached Citadel space and you'll be wanting to go on a shopping spree. Before getting too carried away with your down time, I recommend speaking with Agent Harrison about Operation: Subtle Wind.

In brief, we've had our eye on Thenusi, a barren planet in the Dirada system. A pirate gang we've paid off to act as one of our assets in the Terminus has noted a lot of Cerberus cargo going into that system and vanishing when they approach Thenusi. The funny thing is that they never appear to land on the planet: the vessels just up and vanish before they reach the planet's gravity well. I suspect Cerberus has cooked up some kind of cloak that prevents both visual and scanner detection.

I'm not big on going after Cerberus without more intel, but whatever it is they're doing, it's obviously not related to stopping the Collector advance based on the data you gave us. None of the vessels were Omni-related and there are no human colonies that deep in the Terminus. Find out what their planning, Captain.

As I said: speak with Adam. He was the agent in charge of gathering the intel before I reassigned him to track you down, and can give you a better scope of the mission.

-The Operator

P.S. Enjoy the coffee.


Titus smiled at Sibyl's post script. She always knows.

The captain continued to read through his messages. Some of them were welcome-backs from old comrades he hadn't seen since his N7 years, and others were formal requests from the crew, forwarded by Serena. Engineering would need some kind of new cupplings, services was requesting food of similar quality that they had heard rumor about the Vindicator having, and acquisitions was in need of a license renewal for Serrice Council gear. Luckily, all of that could be found and imported from the Citadel once they docked.

Thinking about that reminded Titus to actually check up on the Marathon's approach. He set down his now-empty coffee mug, threw on the Alliance officer jacket hanging in his locker, and exited his quarters. The walk to the bridge was actually rather lengthy, but he did appreciate not having to step into an elevator anymore just to transition from his quarters to the command environment. As he marched down the corridor, he passed by a few of the unfamiliar Oracle faces that had come along with the Marathon. Unknowing of Titus' more relaxed policies, each of them snapped a sharp salute as he passed by. He returned the gesture without a word, but made a mental note to address that during his first official captain's call on the ship.

Titus walked through the blast doors leading into the bridge and saw Serena standing before an array of haptic projections that were taller than herself. Again, they were as white as white could be, as were all of the interfaces on the bridge.

"Not to sound like a child in the backseat of a skycar," Titus began, "but... are we there, yet?"

Serena looked over at him as he stood next to her, laughed, and said, "Darcy's hailing Citadel docking control right now."

Titus moved forward through the bridge, leaving Serena to continue with whatever it was she had been doing when he had entered. As he came closer to the edge of the bridge's command platform, he passed by several terminals arranged in two columns and four rows. He walked down the aisle between them. These terminals were used for both navigational and alert-level purposes. The terminals on the sides, built against the bulkheads surrounding the outside of the platform, were used for combat purposes. Half controlled sectors of fire for the GUARDIAN laser defenses, and the other half maintained constant communication with the fighters and interceptors.

When the captain reached the edge of the platform, he saw Darcy and his helm team below him, skillfully piloting the Marathon into the open arms of the Citadel. Titus looked out of the large view port dominating the head of the bridge, admiring the galaxy's largest space station, the home of the galactic council and symbol of unity. The Cerberus goal to place humanity above that unity suddenly rang hollow to him as he stood tall in his Alliance colors, hands behind his back and shoulders broad.

"Copy that, Control," Darcy said below in his communique. "Proceeding to docking bay whiskey, zero-seven-niner. Will inform when complete." Darcy glanced back to Titus and gave his captain a thumb-up signal, showing they had clearance to dock. According to the projections on one of the navigator's terminals, the Marathon would be docking at an Alliance-controlled port midway up one of the station's five arms. From there, they could catch skycabs to get anywhere they needed to go on the Citadel.

Titus nodded back to Darcy and turned around to head back towards Serena. On his way toward her he asked, "Where's Agent Harrison?"

"Couldn't say," she replied, continuing to stare at the screens in front of her. "Prophet?"

A cyan-colored silhouette of a human male materialized between the too of them, facing directly toward Titus. With hands behind its back, it said, "Agent Harrison can be found in his quarters on the deck below. Room ten, starboard side."

"Neat," Titus said. "Are you always available? Like the AI on my last ship?"

"Yes. I maintain a constant QE connection to the Marathon - both the cruiser and frigate. While I do not control any of the systems on either vessel, I can integrate myself with onboard sensors and serve as an adviser."

"The EDI units Cerberus is field testing have advanced cyber warfare suites. If we come under attack by such measures, will you be at risk?"

"There is always a chance I may come under attack as long as I maintain a connection to the Marathon. But I have my own cyber warfare suites to protect myself should I be confronted with such attacks. Unfortunately, my defenses do not extend to your ship. The Marathon relies on highly advanced VIs in charge of protecting critical systems. Each VI is assigned a different system to protect and maintain, and their source codes vary from one another. This ensures that one virus won't be enough to cripple multiple systems."

"So you're an adviser, my liaison to Oracle and the Operator, and I can talk to you practically whenever and wherever I want to. What else is there to know about you?"

Without answering Titus' question, Prophet's hologram disappeared, leaving the captain slightly confused.

Serena allowed herself a light laugh and said, "Prophet did the same thing to me earlier. I believe Oracle designed it to safeguard information like that. Instead of telling you you don't have clearance to know something, it just stops talking completely. Far different than EDI."

"I guess so," Titus commented.





The second deck was comprised of the officer quarters and administrative offices, as well as the tech labs, a secondary sick bay, war room, and a secondary QEC room. Titus made his way through the central corridor leading away from the stairs that led directly up to the bridge above. The second deck was where the elevators actually reached to and were just ahead of him at the end of the hall. On either side of the two elevators was another hallway, one leading left, and the other right. Titus made his way toward the starboard side when he reached the elevators, hanging a left - which would be right if facing toward the helm.

Titus continued down the hall until he came up to room ten. The slim haptic screen next to the door read "Harrison". After knocking a quick three times, Jonathan stood patiently in the hallway until the door hissed apart with brilliantly smooth speed, disappearing into the walls on each side. He heard no welcome come from within, but considering Harrison had to have opened the door himself, Titus took the initiative and stepped through the threshold.

Once inside, he glanced around the agent's domain. Like the other private quarters, the interior offered far better lighting than the rest of the ship. On the Vindicator, the office and living areas were kept separate from each other; but on the Marathon, the spaces were blended together. Lights were built into both the bulkheads and the furniture, most of it providing dim ambiance to the atmosphere of the room. A twin-sized bed occupied one of the corners up against a long window, and a desk stood on the opposite side of the room on Jonathan's right.

The hiss of another door turned the captain's attention over to a corner beyond the desk and he saw Harrison appear a second later from the bathroom beyond. The young Oracle agent was mopping up remnants of toothpaste around his mouth with a white rag. His dark hair was still wet from the shower he had obviously taken; and a light, clean aroma began filling the living area.

"Captain," he said, turning slightly to toss the rag back into the bathroom before the door automatically shut.

"Prophet said I might find you here," Titus returned.

Adam moved over and sat down at his desk. He leaned over in front of a small standing mirror positioned in the corner of the surface and fixed the collar of his uniform. As he made the adjustment, he solemnly said, "And you won't find me anywhere else, usually. Most of my time is spend behind this desk scanning through mission reports and analyzing intel. On the off-chance I'm not in my quarters, you can probably find me in the training chamber below or using the secondary QEC on this deck."

"Well then," Titus began as he sat down on a white recliner put off from the desk, "I'm glad you're in your element because I need to ask you about a particular assignment."

Adam relaxed in his desk chair and waited for the captain to continue.

"What can you tell me about Operation: Subtle Wind?"

Adam leaned back further in his chair to kick his boots up on the surface of the desk. With one hand he opened the drawer closest to him and took out a datapad. With the tap of a finger, the dim blue, haptic interface sprang to life within the cradle of the pad and Adam tapped away at a series of commands. Almost instantly, the lighting in the quarters dimmed and a hologram materialized in the center of the room. A scaled, rotating model of a ship that Titus had never seen before floated a few feet above the floor.

"This little lady'," Adam began in reference to the unmarked frigate, "is the Lorivac. She's a pirate vessel. Crew is mostly turian, some batarian, and a few are asari. About a year ago, Oracle began to pay good credits for any tips on Cerberus activity; under the guise of Alliance InOps, of course. We've seen a flood of valuable intel since we started the campaign. The Lorivac's contribution is the latest, and the Operator has taken interest."

"Oracle works with pirates? Isn't that along the lines of negotiating with terrorists?"

Adam smirk and shrugged a shoulder. "Officially? Yes. But Oracle doesn't 'officially' exist. Besides, for each pirate that comes forward with information, the thicker they make our dossiers on their own ship's activity."

"So, intel-wise, it's like taking out two birds with one stone."

The agent nodded. "Exactly. It makes our job a lot easier later on, when we decide to track them down and eliminate another player from the board. But, returning the matter at hand... After travelling to the Dirada system myself, I can confirm that Cerberus has put up a kind of highly advanced cloaking veil to hide whatever it is they're doing. All of my scans revealed the same kind of dark spot above the planet."

Adam tapped another few keys on the datapad and the hologram changed from the Lorivac to an image of Thenusi. The white planet was riddled with meteor craters and since the surface was perfectly clear to the naked eye, there was no atmosphere. The heavenly body looked a lot like Earth's very own moon, but with fewer terrain variations.

"Somewhere, floating above this planet, I suspect lies a Cerberus station. What they're doing, exactly, we haven't a single clue; and that's why we're investigating."

"I have experience with remote Cerberus space stations. Most of them, indeed, are kept hidden; so this doesn't surprise me. I've never heard of a cloak like that, however. Most stealth systems designed for stations and vessels are only designed to fool scans; but one that can fool a real set of eyes? That's new."

"After your team is finished with Citadel errands, you can hit the relays for Dirada whenever you'd like."

Titus stood up from the recliner, and Adam stood with him, quickly turning off the hologram from the datapad and returning the room's lighting to a normal state.

"Will you be going down with the rest of the errand-runners, then?" Titus inquired.

Adam gave the question a moment of thought before replying. "I would like to stretch my legs for a bit."




The air contained within the Citadel's ward was cool and refreshing. Artificial breezes swayed through Jonathan's hair as he walked the moderately busy streets with Adam, Lance, and Braden. So far, the supply requests sent up to him through the chain of command had been taken care of and now the crew was spending the rest of the time they had on shopping for personal items, enjoying a nice meal, or sight-seeing. Serena had seen to it that everyone had been instructed to stay within five blocks of the human embassy branch they had docked at. While each race's home embassy was on the Presidium ring at the end of the station, the wards were so massive that smaller embassy offices were established so their respective races could have shorter commutes in case they were in need of representation or political asylum.

Braden had been wanting to visit a biotics gym called The Cube after seeing a advertisement for it outside a local restaurant. Lance volunteered to keep an eye on him after hearing the word "gym". Since Adam himself was a gifted - not to mention, well-trained - biotic, he decided to tag along to see what the place offered. Jonathan saw the opportunity to learn more about the Oracle agent and his talents, so he joined the group as well. As all four of them walked together, Braden always several axious paces ahead of the group, Titus and Harrison found themselves in pleasant conversation.

Adam's so-called "elite" N7 training had begun almost a year ago in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Recently, biotics had been classified into two main categories for military purposes; adepts and vanguards. While adepts were skilled manipulators of dark energy, vanguards were aggressive biotic soldiers. Adam was a vanguard, and a very quick one. A combination of unique, classified amps and implants granted the man the ability to amplify his biotic potential without sacrificing much energy. A balance of martial arts training and acute attention to detail added speed and flexibility. With technology and disciplined training combined with swordplay, he had been nicknamed "Slayer" by the program's directors. Similarly, a nickname was given to each of the other specialized "elites".

"Slayer, huh?" Titus mused after hearing Adam's retelling of the training program.

Adam allowed himself a small chuckle. "Yeah, it is kind of cheesy; but as I said, they were all given nicknames."

"Do all of you have katanas?"

"No. Just two of us. The other one is Lieutenant Kyle; an infiltrator."

"What's her nickname?"

"Shadow."

Titus laughed. "How cliche."

"Tell me about it," Adam returned with a grin.

A minute later, their conversation was interrupted with Braden shouting, "Finally!" Adam and Jonathan looked ahead to see Lance and the teenager heading inside a very large building. It appeared to be a warehouse from the looks of it, but the clean exterior and vibrant white and cyan lights indicated otherwise. A large holographic sign above the main entrance read "The Cube", and a scrolling marque beneath read, "Biotics fitness and training - Join our membership program, today!"

Once inside, Titus saw that the place was a widely popular attraction. The area may have been human-dominant, but The Cube had become a place for many biotic-potential species. A lot of asari were roaming around, even multiple drell. While it was clear to him which of the patrons were there to train - based on the fact that they were wearing workout attire, what he didn't understand was the large amount of those who weren't. Many were simply wearing everyday outfits, whether they were work uniforms, tailored suits, or casual clothes that were still too restrictive to go to a gym in.

And then he understood.

The roar of cheers and jeers coming from within a larger room beyond the entrance said it all. The Cube wasn't just a gym, it was an arena. While there were facilities inside where biotics could train in peace or without the pressure of an audience, the main attraction and source of revenue was the central chamber, where willing biotics were pitted against each other in a tournament style fashion.

The four of them made their way into the arena chamber, but before they could get a good look at what was going on, a pudgy volus behind a small podium - miraculously shorter than he was - flagged them down with his claw-like hand.

"Hey, there, ... Earth-clan!" He shouted, taking annoying, interrupting breaths through his breather. "Which one of you are skilled enough ... to take on the Cube Champion? ... It's only five-hundred credits ... to enter."

"Cube Champion?" Lance asked.

"Yes! ... She's the leanest, meanest, most vicious biotic fighter on the Citadel! ... If you can take her down ... the reward is ten thousand credits and a life-time membership."

Titus was going to simply say that they were there to watch, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, Adam stepped forward and handed the volus his credit chit.

"Sounds like fun," he said with a smile. "I'm in."

Titus stared at Harrison for a moment, completely bewildered at the young man's tenacity. "Adam?"

"We've got a few more hours to kill, Captain," he explained. "I figure, why not?"

The volus finished swiping the credit chit over his omni tool and completed the transaction. "Very well, Earth-clan. ... The locker room for contestants is down that way and to the left. ... When your name is called, you may proceed onto the arena floor through that same locker room. ... Good luck!"

Adam took his credit chit back and waved a relaxed, two-finger salute to the gang. "I'll see you guys from the floor! Don't forget to cheer!" Before anyone could say a word, he disappeared down the way that the volus had pointed.

Left both confused and slightly excited, Titus followed Lance and Braden into the arena's bleachers. The rows of seats were stacked back at an incline of ten rows high. Black seats surrounded a white square floor in the center of the room. Titus noticed that the arena floor appeared to consist of several tiles. This was odd, however, considering that most arena floors are completely solid. Scattered about the arena floor were several small disks, left loose and in no particular pattern of arrangement. Titus guessed that these could be used by contestants as biotically-propelled projectiles.

Currently, two contestants occupied the floor. One of them was a well-built human male in a muscle tank top and tight spandex shorts. The other was a slim, and very beautiful, violet-shaded asari. The asari was wearing a black, form-fitting outfit with cut-off sleeves. Light boots allowed her to be quick on her feet and long pants protected her legs. She danced across the arena floor elegantly as she charged up a terrifying biotic bolt and sent it flying from an open palm toward her human opponent.

The man tried to move one of the many disks in the way of the bolt, but he was too slow. His body repulsed backwards into the arena wall when the blast of dark energy slammed into his gut. A loud buzzer sounded overhead and an announcer's quickly versed - obviously salarian - voice blasted over unseen speakers.

"After putting up a valiant effort, the challenger has been knocked out by touching the boundary! A good show! Sadly, however, only three minutes in the ring; not even close to the previous challenger's outstanding seven minute survival! Well, folks: the Champion has won again!"

As the crowd wildly cheered on their champion, Titus overheard Braden complaining. "Beat by a girl?!"

Lance laughed and said, "Remember, kid; the asari are naturally biotic. It's actually no surprise that this place's 'champion' is one of them."

Titus returned his attention to the arena as soon as the next match started. This time the competition seemed a little more even. Both contestants were asari. However, as soon as Titus was beginning to anticipate an interesting fight, the challenger was knocked out from a barrage of flying disks. She didn't stand a chance.

"I sure hope Agent Harrison knows what he just bought himself into."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Jacob Torx Character Portrait: Jason Trox Character Portrait: Elizabeth "Lizzie" Rikers
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“Attention crew, the Marathon has docked” a crackly voice boomed and threw Jacob out of an uneasy, alcohol induced slumber. He looked at his ceiling, right into to the lights that were as harsh to his eyes as looking straight at a sun. His head was pounding like a baby Thresher Maw was digging around his brain. His inebriation had worn off, and now the hours of post drinking fun was about to begin. Jacob slowly sat up on the bed, and as he did his data pad fell off his chest and onto the floor. He looked at it blankly for a few moments before what had happened registered in his mind. Jacob rubbed his eyes, then bent over and grabbed the data pad with a slight groan. He flipped it over to reveal the image of beautiful young blonde women, wearing a gorgeous smile along with an amazing white dress. The picture would have brought a feeling of warmth to most, but to Jacob it brought only anger and pain. He quickly threw the pad back into the drawer and slammed it shut, the drink would give him the courage to look at those memories another day.

Jacob slowly stood from the bed, trying hard not to let his wooziness get the better of him and cause him to crash to the floor. “Ahh, Prophet?” Jacob groaned, and prophets blue image appeared on a panel at the far side of the room in response.

“Hello, Staff Lieutenant Trox. Did you enjoy your nap?”

“Enjoyed the hooch before hand more, where in Sam hill did we dock?” Jacob asked as he scratched his head.

“The Marathon has docked with the Citadel, Staff Lieutenant.”

The Citadel huh, good timing he needed to speak to his brother about something. He knew that the alliance was keeping tabs on Cerberus, specifically the Oracle. It was one of the many benefits of having good contacts within criminal organizations and corporations, you always got nice intel. However, he didn’t have as good of contacts as his brother did; he knew some diplomats and big wigs up in the government office. If anyone he knew could get some dirt on Cerberus, it would be his brother and his friends. He would go see him, get some information and some help. He wouldn’t tell the boss quite yet, it was always better to ask for forgiveness rather then permission.

“Thank you Prophet.”

“Yes Staff Lieutenant” Prophet answered emotionlessly as its blue avatar vanished from the panel. With that Jacob removed his clothing and jumped into the shower so that he could attempt to make him look presentable to for the boss. After his shower was complete, he brushed his teeth and hoped that the strong smell of a quarter bottle of Red Giant would die off just enough so that he didn’t smell like a brewery. He got dressed and strapped on his armor; he didn’t like walking around public places without armor protection, especially in an alliance uniform. As he strapped his pistol to his right side, and attached the baton to his left side, at a slant, he threw to painkillers into his mouth and swallowed them down. Hopefully that would keep his headache at bay. He grabbed a pair of darkly tinted sunglasses and marched out of his bedroom door. He never thought he would be so glad to have these dimly lit hallways before. He walked to the elevator and slammed the button, figuring his son wouldn’t answer him or was already gone so what was the point of even knocking on his door?

The elevator opened to reveal two familiar faces, Captain Tummy Tickler and that government spook Harrison.

“Howdy, ‘boss.” Jacob said as he entered the elevator and gave a friendly look to the men, even that damn biotic.

“Hello Jacob, how are you?” Captain Tummy Tickler asked, and it was obvious by the look on his face that he noticed the strong sent of alcohol on his head of security.

“I’m doing jus’ fine sir.” He replied

“You smell like you had a bit of a party when you went back to your quarters, Staff Lieutenant.” The stinking biotic butted in.

“What’s it too you spook?” Jacob growled

“Staff Lieutenant. Is there a problem, any at all?” the Captain intervened

You damn military types Jacob thought as he turned his gaze to the Captain thinking you can push me around like you own me. [i] You better lift your weight…’boss. “None sir.” He then glared at Harrison and you…you fucking mutant, you just stay away from me “None at all.” He whispered.

******

Jason took the initiative and decided to try his luck with that Lizzie girl again. He found her on the lower decks just leaving her room.

“Hey, Lizzie!” Jason called out to her

“Oh…you again.” She huffed back

“Ah, don’t be like that.” He said with a cocky grin.

“I’ll be however I want, thank you.” She replied with aggravation

“Look.” Jason said “Maybe I made the wrong impression, but I ain’t that bad one you get to know me.”

“Some how I doubt that.” Lizzie repented

“Come on, you just need to hang with me, then you will see.” Jason urged with that same cockyness he seemed to always have floating around him

“See what? That you’re more then just ignorant and oblivious?” Lizzie asked sarcastically and crossed her arms

“Especially that I’m more then oblivious and Ignorant, I’m also arrogant and misunderstood.” He joked, taking the chance to look Lizzie over as she rolled her eyes.

“You just do not give up do you?”

“Come on, I used to live on the Citadel I know all the good places to have fun.”

“I don’t thin me and you are into the same kind of fun.” She replied

“Oh and why is that?” Jason inquired

“Because, I doubt you take the word of God very seriously.” She was right, but what did he care?

“Sure I do, but nowhere in the bible does it say you can’t have a little fun once in a while” at least he was pretty sure it didn’t “plus it will give us a chance to get to know each other. I mean we are going to be living here on the same ship for a long time, so it is probably a good idea wouldn’t you agree?”

She looked at him with her lips screwed up for a moment “I guess you’re right. But don’t think this means you can try anything on me.”

Jason raised his hands in a mock surrender “Would never dream of it.” yet

“Good. And if I don’t want to go somewhere, I’m not going to go understood?”

“Crystal, ma’am.” Ma’am? Well he still was his father’s son.

“Then let’s go.”

********

The harsh artificial sunlight of the Citadel damn near knocked Jacob’s lights out. Hangover and huge artificial lights were not a good mix. He had left Harrison and Captain Tummy Tickler at the ships dock port and was making his way through the crowds of aliens towards the C-SEC headquarters on the Kitohi Ward. His brother was the lead director of the C-SEC Special Response School that was located in the Kithoi Ward headquarters. Last Jacob heard, his brother was up for some kind of promotion but he wasn’t sure what exactly it was, or if he even got it.

Jacob didn’t like being in large crowds like this, especially in a place like Kithoi Ward, which tended to be filled with the most degenerate and disgusting of all life in Citadel space. That’s why the Special Response unit was based out of this Ward; it was the one that needed them most. The streets were littered with drugged out civilians, and it smelled like all the residence had taken their trash outside and started burning it. It confused Jacob how such a place could look so clean and orderly, yet be so disgusting at the same time. As he walked Jacob passed a small bar a turian came stumbling out in a drunken stupor and slammed right into Jacob like he wasn’t even there.

“Hey you ugly ass human, watch where your going!” the turian spat into Jacobs face.

“You just picked the wrong ‘ugly ass human’ to fuck with, on the wrong day. So just turn your ass around and walk away.” Jacob growled. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with drunken aliens, not with a hangover like this.

“The hell did you just say to me?” the turian snapped as he grabbed the handle of a blade he had at his side. Oh great, he just got here and he was going to have to kill an alien. How was he going to explain this?

“Look, just walk away before you get a new hole to breath through ‘partner” Jacob urged as he put a hand on his pistol. Just then, a group of three more turians emerged from the crowd in defense of their fellow alien.

“There a problem here...primate?” one of the new turian asked, cracking his knuckles as he moved to the illumination of a street lamp which revealed the white skull shaped face paint he wore.

“There is about to be.” Jacob answered calmly as he started calculations in his head. Four targets, two yards away with about a foot and a half spread between them. They would be easy targets for a quick shot.

“Oh really. I think I like the sound of that.” One of the sober aliens hissed as he reached behind his back, probably for a weapon “I don’t like Police, especially human ones.” He continued as he read the words on Jacobs vest.

“What the hell is going on here Sar.” A human, male, voice bellowed from behind Jacob. By this time the crowd around the situation had started to clear out of the area, leaving the street basically deserted except for the Jacob, his opponents and this new figure. The folks around these parts knew when to stay clear of something, because the last thing they wanted was to be there when C-SEC starting asking questions.

“Another human? Don’t you idiots know that your kind isn’t welcome on these streets?” Jacob looked to his right, just for a split second so he could see who owned this new voice. It was a tall, Indian man who bore a C-SEC uniform, and Jacob recognized him immediately.

“Sar,” the Indian spoke to the turian, with the skull face paint, in a thick Indian accent “You and your men have already been arrested for assault on humans two times, if there is a third you’ll be going away a long time.”

The turian grinned, “What if we make sure there aren’t any witnesses this time?” he started to laugh as his arm came out just half of the way from behind his body.

The Indian C-SEC officer looked to Jacobs gun arm “You still got those reflexes of yours Jacob?” Jacob smiled, that was a queue if he had ever gotten one. “Just no messes please.” The Indian finished and then without so much as a slight flinch to give away his actions, Jacob, grabbed the handle of his pistol, brought it up so it was at his hip and facing the turians, then fired four rounds with lightning speed. Each metal slug hitting within inches of his intended target, he had a hangover what could you expect? The drunkard got one to leg, while the other three took rounds right to their shoulders. The skull faced one took the round in the arm that was behind his back, and he dropped the grenade he had pulled out, and was planning to use to blow Jacob and the officer to hell.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” The skull faced turian screamed as he grabbed his shoulder.

“Ha.” Jacob laughed “I still got e’m.” The turians held their limbs in pain, not even bothering to retaliate.

“You! I’ll kill you!” the turian screamed at Jacob as he continued to hold his shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He is an angry man, and if you make him any angrier…I think I was to busy eating a donut in my squad car to see the murder who killed four turians outside the Lowrides bar. So I suggest you pick up this drunk and get out of here…now” The C-SEC officer replied coldly. That’s what Jacob liked about this ward; the C-SEC officers knew how to deal with the local populace. It wasn’t like the other wards that were ‘high grade’. Here, everyone was a criminal and they had to be dealt with harshly.

The skull faced turian was just about to stay something when he supposed pack of loyal followers rushed over to the downed drunk and started pulling him off into a nearby alley. The skull faced turian looked genuinely shocked that the others were betraying him. “Stop! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he tried to get his men to stop, but they paid him no mind. So, instead, the turian looked at the Indian and Jacob with a stare of pure disgust “This isn’t over.” He growled as he ran off into the alley after his men. Jacob holstered his weapon and turned towards the C-SEC officer.

“Umar! You son of a bitch how are ‘ya” Jacob exclaimed with cheer as he tuck his hand out to the C-SEC officer

“You are a crazy man.” Umar said as he shook Jacob’s hand “You should know better then to walk around these lower streets. You know the aliens don’t take kindly to us humans here.”

“I never got hired for my smarts.” Jacob replied. Umar was a good friend, and had been ever since Jacob met him during one of his bounties here on the Citadel a few years back. He knew Jacob’s brother as well.

“No kidding, my friend.” Umar chuckled “Here, come get in my patrol unit, we shouldn’t stick around too long.” The two ran their way over to Umar’s skycar patrol vehicle and hopped in. As soon as the car was off the ground and soaring through the skylanes, Umar began again “What brings you back here my friend? You finally decide to take up a job here?”

Jacob laughed as he rubbed his temples with index fingers, trying to calm his headache “Hell no. I told ‘ya the flatfoot life isn’t for me ‘partner” He thought about being a C-SEC officer and using his brother’s status to get him assigned to Kitohi Ward. However, even though the rules were able to be bent to extremes here, the rules and regulations still got in the way too many times. Jacob couldn’t go back to that life. Not now, at least while he was with Oracle. He was making good money, and helping defeat a great threat that nobody would complain to him if he broke moral ethics to do it.

Umar looked at him crookedly “You okay, my friend?”

“Yeah, just got a hell of a hangover.” Jacob replied

Umar shook his head “You have to stop drinking so much, my friend.”

“Makes me feel warm inside.” Jacob half joked

“You should try following the path of Hinduism my friend; it may help you find peace.”

Jacob looked at him with sympathetic eyes “I lost all faith a long time ago Umar, if you’re smart you will too.”

“Perhaps I do not wish to trade happiness for logic my friend.” Umar replied “Now, I suppose you are here to see your brother, yes?”

“That’d be right.” All the sudden the sky car took a nose dive, and then came to a complete stop outside the C-SEC headquarters building.

“Then get out.” Umar said with a joking tone. The man was good company, but he didn’t like to be held up when he was on duty.

“Thanks Umar.” Jacob said as he extended his hand and shook Umar’s “I’ll get in touch with you again soon.”

“I hope you do, my friend.” Umar said as Jacob opened the door of the skycar, and then slammed it shut when he was outside. Umar took off, probably to continue the rest of his shift, leaving Jacob outside the HQ alone. The C-SEC headquarters on Kitohi ward was its own independent building. Its metallic frame shone a magnificent starlight tint of white from the finish that covered the building. A massive C-SEC emblem was implanted right above the doorway and was illuminated from behind by a dark blue light, and a marvelous fountain circulated water between two massive stairways that led to the front doors. As Jacob made his way up the stairs he saw his reflection in the crystal clear water that rushed down a series of waves and small ramps before being sucked into drains at the bottom and then circulated to the top to restart the process. It was a beautiful building.

As Jacob approached the front doors, they slid open and led him into a small twenty foot by twenty foot room that contained six doors leading into the department, but each was locked. As the door to the outside closed behind him a female voice crackled over an intercom “Hello, welcome to the Kitohi Ward C-SEC Headquarters, how may I help you today?”

“I’m here to see Special Response Director Trox.” Jacob answered

“Okay, what is your business with Deputy Executor Trox?” Deputy Executor? So he did get promoted

“I’m his brother, Jacob Trox.”

“Okay, please wait there for me.” The female voice said so sweetly it was sickening then disappeared. Jacob waited a good five minuets before the voice returned “Your brother will be waiting for you in his office, please reference the map in the lobby to find it.”

“Thank you.” Jacob said as one of the doors unlocked. He walked through the door and found himself in a massive lobby. There were multiple black luxury couches spread around the room, and in the center was a thirty foot statue of four C-SEC officers, an asari, turian, salarian and a human. Engraved on the statue’s base were the words “A proud family, dedicated to protecting the citizens of the Citadel” The walls and floor tiles were white as pearls, and the lights were so harsh that Jacobs sunglasses barely helped to keep his hangover headache at bay. He tried his best to ignore the pain as he went over to a holomap located next to the doors. He activated it with a hand stroke and found his brothers office on the map. It was on the fifth floor, right below the roof level of the building. Jacob took the elevator to the fifth floor, and then walked down to his brother’s office at the end of a long, mind numbingly white hall. Why the Citadel government buildings insisted on being so damn bright and clean, he’d never know.

He walked right through the door, in too much pain to care about knocking, and found a man in a tidy C-SEC dress uniform; he had jet black hair and a clean shaven face. His cheeks caved in a little, and his nose was pointed, helping give notice to his dark eyes. Lucky bastard took after their mother; he didn’t have to deal with the early graying.

“Holy horse shit, Jacob! Your looking about as friendly as a Texas smile.” Jacob’s brother exclaimed as he stood from his seat and came around his desk to embrace his brother. After that, it became clear that his brother had gotten a little soggy around the mid section.

“Jack!” Jacob said with cheer as he returned his brother’s embrace. Once they parted, Jacob patted his brother’s stomach “What the hell happened to you? It looks like if I told you to haul ass it would take you two trips.”

“Oh ha, ha at least I don’t look old enough to have seen the baby Jesus born.” Jack repented. Jacob didn’t respond, he just threw his brother the bird and walked around him “So, Jason didn’t come with ‘ya I see.”

“Of course not, that boy is gonna drive me plumb crazy.” Jacob replied, he always got more country around his brother who liked to use the old country talk whenever he could.

“He still isn’t whipped into shape?” Jack asked

“Nope.”

“Just beat his ass like a red headed step child.” Jack suggested as Jacob examined the name plate on his brother’s desk that read “ Deputy Executor Trox

“Trust me, I’ve thought about it multiple times. So you got promoted?”

“Yep, I’m now one of the four Deputy Executors that control the four wards outside of the presidium, where the Executor has control.”

“So what, you just work with the Kitohi Ward?” Jacob asked with genuine curiosity

“It isn’t as easy as it sounds. I’m as a busy as a cat trying to hide shit on a marble floor.” Jack answered “But come now, Jacob there has to be a reason you came here looking for me. And what’s the deal with the Alliance uniform? Thought you were done with the formal things.”

“I was, until they offered me a shit load of money. That’s why I came and got Jason back from you a few months back. I’m posted on an alliance vessel, big secret mission stuff.” Jacob answered

“And this has something to do with me don’t it?” Jack said with a crooked smile

“Yes. I need your help. We are looking for a certain group of racist humans.”

“Are you now? Which one?” Jack asked

“Think Greek ‘partner” Jacob replied with cold eyes

“That’s one dangerous group you’re screwing with there Jacob.” His brother said with a sudden stroke of seriousness “What do you think I can do for you?”

Jacob got real quiet “I need you to call in some favors, some of my contacts in the pirate and mercenary communities have told me that the group that I’m currently employed with is tracking their movements all over the Terminus. I need to know what some of the higher ups know.”

“Who exactly?”

“Special Tactics and Reconnaissance level, high clearance stuff.”

“That’s a hell of an order.” Jack replied.

“Can you get it done Jack?”

Jack thought for a second, looking at his brother with a thoughtful glare, then sighed “Maybe, but I can’t promise anything. However, a little bird told me about a threat on the Citadel.”

“Cerberus?”

“One and only. Word is they have spies all around this place, some close enough to be a direct threat to the council. It’s so bad that a Specter paid me a visit the other day. A salarian called Tumak.”

“And?” Jacob said as he sat on the edge of his brother’s desk

“He thinks they may have gotten in as far as C-SEC. I’m supposed to start extensive background checks of all human officers and detectives. He also gave me orders to hit any possible terrorist safe houses as soon as solid leads come in.”

“Wouldn’t that cause a lot of attention?” Jacob asked, puzzled

“Said that he would issue me warrants on the premise that the safe houses are drug dens, a press release was already sent out to the media that says a major Red Sand problem is springing up, so when I do get leads they can be played off.”

“Then it’s worse then I thought. Can you get me more info?”

“Like I said, I’ll try. But, you know what you’re asking for is as big as hell and half of Texas.”

“I know, but I need that-

Just then the door to the office slid open and tall, red headed woman strutted in, wearing a blue dress. Her eyes were a brilliant green that reflected shear intelligence “Oh, I’m sorry am I interrupting Jack?”

“No! Of course not! Come her honey. Jacob, this is my girlfriend Margret, the most beautiful woman on the Citadel.” He said as he kissed her on the cheek.

“Oh you stop it!” she giggled playfully

Jacob got up and reached his hand out and shook Janet’s hand “Nice to meet you ma’am.” Jacob said with his sweetest Texan voice “My brother sure did find himself a looker.”

“Oh no, now I have to tell two of you I’m not all that great.” She said with a playful role of her eyes. Jack wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck

“Don’t be so modest.” He whispered

“Oh knock it off, your brother is here!” than, she did something that ruined the moment for Jacob. She used a small biotic push to playfully hit Jack, he smiled at first but then he remembered his brother.

Jacob didn’t say a word; he just stood up, walked around the two lovers, and out the door. “Jacob! Stay here Margret.” Jack let go of his girlfriend and ran after his brother “Jacob stop!”

“I’m leaving; please just get me my information.” He said as he stopped, still facing away from his brother.

“Jacob, you can’t keep doing this. I love her, so you’re going to have to learn to live with her.”

“She’s your problem, not mine.” Jacob said coldly

“You can’t blame all biotics for what happened-

Jacob interrupted with hissed words “Watch me.” Then he continued down the hall “Goodbye Jack, I’ll be in touch.” Jack watched as his brother get in the elevator and left, not looking back at him once as he did….


******

“See this place isn’t so bad.” Jason said as he sat with Lizzie on the side of a balcony overlooking the presidium reservoir. It was one of the nicer places he knew on the Citadel, he figured it would be a good place to start. He took a bite out of the Comet Ice crème bar that he had bought from a kiosk near the docking bays. He had paid for the cab ride here, then bought both him and Lizzie an Ice crème with hopes that it would make up for him pissing her off the other day.

“Yeah, it’s nice. I like the breeze, even though it’s fake.” Lizzie said

Jason laughed “Yeah, I kind of miss feeling that breeze everyday.”

“You used to live here?” Lizzie asked

“Yeah, my uncle works for C-SEC. I lived with him for all of my teenage years until recently”

Lizzie looked at him with puzzlement “But you’re with your dad now aren’t you?”

“Yeah, he just got me back a few months ago, when he got hired to be aboard the Marathon.”

Lizzie looked as if she was trying to tread softly, so not to upset Jason “Why did you not live with him?”

Jason stopped for a second, and just starred out over the waters “A long time ago…something bad happened in my family. My dad…he stopped being himself and then one day he just put me on a shuttle and sent me here. I hated it…so crowded, and my uncle never let me do anything.” He stopped for a second to remember back to how much he had hated the Citadel back then “But now that I’m back, I remember some things I miss.”

Lizzie looked at him with thoughtful eyes “I’m so sorry Jason.”

Jason shook his head “No, don’t be.” He said then slowly tried to put an arm around Lizzie. However, she shrugged his arm off and moved away

“What did I tell you? No funny business okay?!” She growled with irritation

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Damn it he thought this girl is going to be harder then I thought

“It’s okay…this time.” She warned. For the next few minutes the two sat in silence as the cool breeze brushed based them gently.

“Hey, I have somewhere more fun to show you.” Jason said

“Where?”

“Just trust me, come one.” Jason urged as he stood up. Lizzie looked at him with uncertain eyes “I know how to have fun here.” He said with that grin of arrogance.

“Okay…we will see.” Lizzie said as she stood up and they walked back towards the cab station…

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco Character Portrait: Lance Williams
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Connor returned to his post after ensuring that the shipment of supplies ordered by Commander Taylor had made it to where they were supposed to go. Engineering would definitely be thankful for the new couplings they needed for goodness knows what, and he was looking forward to some of the food items that he noticed going down to the kitchens. But despite everything running smoothly, the young communications specialist was walking mess of emotions.

All of my life, he thought, I’ve been living a half-truth.

He knew something was definitely wrong with him when he approached his terminal on the bridge and could hardly remember why the code script to a GUI he had been writing was open on the main screen. Why can’t I remember working on something as simple as this? Connor ran both hands through his thick of brush of hair and closed his eyes, trying to repress all other thoughts and simply focus on his job.

There was a ping from the terminal speakers and Connor glanced down in the corner of the main screen to see a flashing message icon, indicating a new e-mail. He tapped the icon to pull up the incoming message and saw that it was from his mother.

Hey hun. Just checking in on you. Your father and I haven’t heard anything in a while and we’re getting kinda worried. Please just let us know that everything’s okay. Love you!

It stung; not being able to bring himself to write a reply. Instead, Connor deleted the e-mail and went back to working on the code script. But his heart was slowly breaking. His family didn’t know about him; the real him. And so, he thought that as long as he continued to ignore them, they would eventually stop acknowledging they even had a son. Wouldn’t that be easier? If the problem would just eventually fade away?

Another ping pulled his attention back to the inbox still up on his terminal. At first, he thought it was his mother being stubborn enough to send yet another message, but he was slightly relieved to see that it was a message from different source. Only when he saw who sent it, did he fall back into a depressed mood.




Yeoman Brown’s office was warm; a pleasant surprise when compared to the rest of the ship’s chilling temperature. But, regardless of the climate, Connor felt extremely uncomfortable being in the room. He would much rather be occupying himself with rewriting an operating system than sitting on a shrink’s recliner. In truth, he was only in here because he was ordered to be; as was the everyone else on the ship. By orders of the Captain himself, all personnel were required to speak with Major Lisa Brown at some point after departure from Lookout Station. Appointments had been pre-scheduled, of course, so Ms. Brown needn’t see everyone at once. Connor’s appointment landed on today; and he was none too thrilled after receiving the notification from her via his inbox.

The woman sat across from him in a low chair, legs crossed, and a data pad in graceful hands. As she skimmed through what had to be his entire life in a convenient little dossier, Connor fidgeted with his thumbs, resorting to picking at the fine white cloth of his recliner. Eventually, Brown lowered the data pad to just above her knee and looked the young serviceman right in the eye.

“So, Connor,” she began, “if I may use your first name; how are you liking it aboard the Marathon so far?”

It appeared this wasn’t going to be over anytime soon, as the yeoman had decided to open with such a generic question, and one that he had been asked a dozen times already since the start of the mission. “Fine,” he replied, trying his best to not roll his eyes.

“And you’re comfortable bunking in the barracks with other crew members?”

“I am.”

“In a room full of ego-maniacal men?”

Where is she going with this? he wondered. The question before seemed just as normal as the opening, but that last one sent up a red flag. Does she know? “I’m... sorry?”

Brown smiled and then glanced at her data pad, quickly saying, “Let’s move on.” Her finger tapped the screen of her tap several times and she lightly bit her bottom lip, indicating she had found something of interest to switch the topic to. “According to your demographics profile, you were raised on the eastern U.S. coast; and you’re family is from Aviano. But I’m curious, though... your psych profile, from June, contains notes from Dr. Hiemer, your psychologist from technical training, that the American side of your family is from the southern region of the U.S.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “That’s correct, ma’am.”

“So, from which side of your family do get the feeling that your orientation makes you less than human?”

The question felt like a rock just hit him square in the face. It was unexpected, to say the least. “Excuse me, ma’am?” Connor finally stammered out after catching his breath.

“Connor,” Lisa calmingly said, “Dr. Hiemer had the same hunch I did when he first saw you; and, according to his notes, after he listened to you carry on a conversation both with him and others, he was pretty confident that you’re gay. And so am I. Not only that, but your family seems to have a few members with mixed orientations; so, genetically speaking, it would make sense.”

DeMarco took a moment to collect himself and his thoughts before replying. “I, uhm... I’m not sure what to say that, ma’am. I mean, I suppose... Yes. I am gay; but I don’t see why you’re asking about that.”

“I’m not,” Lisa said simply. “My question was, which side of your-”

“I know what the question was, ma’am,” Conner interrupted, only to take a deep breath and realize he was wrong to interrupt a ranking officer. But Lisa didn’t seem to mind. It was part of her job, after all; to tap into the emotional spring of her patients. “The southern half of my family,” Conner finally admitted. “They’re the ones that have an issue with me being... gay. Or, they would, if they knew.”

“You haven’t told them,” Lisa simplified. “Because you’re afraid of what they might say?”

Connor took a moment to think about the answer to that, picking again at the fabric of the recliner. As his fingers plucked, thoughts and memories swarmed his mind. Eventually, he asked, “When you were younger, did you ever want something so badly that you took it without informing or asking, because you were so afraid of hearing your parents say ‘no’?”

Lisa nodded her head with a genuine smile. “Plenty of times,” she replied.

“I don’t want to be someone that I’m not, ma’am. So I try to be myself. But the word ‘no’ is always in the back of mind. I can’t seem to get away from it. The only way I know how to ignore it, is by giving into it and hiding my orientation.”

“Are you, perhaps, conflicted on whether or not ‘no’ is right? Because science says something else.”

“I understand that, ma’am. And I know that there is nothing wrong with who I am; but, for some reason, and one that I cannot explain... I want to believe that there is. For my family’s sake? I don’t know.”

Lisa looked at her pad again, but only for a quick second. “Your family is religious, correct?” At Connor’s nod, she continued. “What about you? Is there, perhaps, a spiritual element involved in your inner struggle?”

“Well, I used to be religious, ma’am. But I stopped practicing when I recognized my orientation. I still believe in a higher power, sure. But I don’t invest in doctrine or dogma anymore. That’s something my family doesn’t understand, either. They’ve seen me become progressively more liberal, and they don’t know it’s because I’m not one of ‘them’.”

“But you said that part of you wants this old doctrine to be correct. That something is wrong with you being who you are.”

“Is it wrong to want life to be as simple as black and white?”

LIsa smiled again and replied, “So, if given the chance, you would trade unbounded possibility for limited familiarity?”

Profound. Connor had to give Yeoman Brown some credit; she knew how to do her job well, or he at least hoped this was her doing a good job. This was someone other than Adam that he could talk to about all of this, and someone that would not only understand, but offer advice with the backing of a respectable academic pedigree. Cerberus knew how to pick ‘em.

“Connor,” she said, “I want you to keep being who you are. You don’t have to come out just yet, if you don’t want to. But I do want you to keep seeing Adam - and yes, I know about him, too; something like that is far too obvious to keep secret around here - and keep talking to him as well as me. He can listen, as any good lover should; and so can I when he’s not available. When you leave my office here in a moment, I want you, finally, to remember this above all else: there are times when we must disappoint the ones that tell us ‘no’; to free ourselves of the burden of being someone whom we are not meant to be.”

DeMarco left the yeoman’s office feeling strangely lighter on his feet, and also slightly smiling at the corners. He had entered Miss Brown’s office expecting a boring, dragged-out session of psychoanalyzing to the point of exhaustion; but though there was definitely a fair amount of psychoanalyzing, the appointment didn’t take very long at all, nor was it boring.

Unbounded possibility, he thought. I like that.




“Didn’t see me coming, did you, Oracle?”

It didn’t take Adam long to process the fact that the new comer, decked out in full battle rattle, who had leaped down in front of him seconds ago wasn’t apart of the official fight.

“No,” the N7 replied. “And I take it you don’t have a gym membership.”

There was a loud kathud as the mechanics beneath the arena floor activated and lowered the obstacles back into their starting positions, completely smoothing everything out. As soon as the audience could clearly see from all angles, Adam could hear the echoing gasps and see the surprised, and also excited, expressions. The voice of the salarian commentator started spouting out over the intercom again.

“Holy ancestors of the Dalatrass, folks! Just as our bio readings suggested, the champion is out of the fight and someone new has entered the ring! As medical teams retrieve our beloved champion from the floor, let’s watch what this new warrior has brought to the Cube!”

Great, Adam thought. The show must go on.

Twenty feet now separated Adam and the mysterious challenger. Without his own gear, this would be tough fight, but he didn’t exactly need it. He had trained under plenty of extreme conditions at the Villa before ever receiving the implants and amps he has now. After fighting with the asari, he knew that the arena floor had twenty-five disks scattered across the surface, each one no farther than ten or fifteen feet from another. He could throw his body into a biotic charge, and release the barrier he had put up in his fight with the champion. The charge would at least stumble her if she managed to withstand it, giving him the opportunity to unleash the nova (the name given to the shock wave technique that was produce by rapidly disbanding one’s biotic barrier), which would infuse her shields with a charge of dark energy. After that, he would need to send a small bolt of energy from his hand to detonate an explosion and send the challenger flying.

Better now or never, he thought, as he took in a deep breath and brought his hands back. A field of dark energy emerged around him and he felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. Tunnel vision instantly set in, blacking out everything but his target. With butterflies in his stomach, Adam felt his body drastically lunge before all feeling went numb. In the blink of an eye, he was already right in the challenger’s face, but as soon as he was sure he had her, vision completely blacked out. When he could see again, his entire body cried out in pain and he realized he was laying on his back. Without hesitating, Adam pushed the pain to the back of his mind and forced himself to recover.

“Unbelievable, ladies and gentlemen!” The commentator’s voice was slightly muffled by the ringing in Adam’s ears, but it came through, nonetheless. “The newcomer just used her own biotics to detonate the field around Harrison! This fight just keeps more exciting by the second! What will our contender try next to gain the upper hand?”

Adam smirked at the question. Time for a game changer, he mused. There are a few things his amps and implants don’t need his specialized armor to pull off. With upward motions from both hands, Harrison raised two of the fighting disks from nearby on the arena floor. After jerking his arms toward each other, the disks went flying toward either side of his opponent. It was an easy attack to dodge, and, as expected, the challenger simply leaped backward.

But while she was distracted by the disks and still slightly focused on where Adam was standing, the N7 leaped forward as she leaped backward, twisting his body around to face back toward the stands... and vanished in a sudden puff of black and violet, smoking dark energy.

Before his challenger realized what had happened, Adam’s left arm reached around from behind and tightened against her neck. His right hand reach up from behind and braced the top of her helmet, bringing it back so the crook of his left arm was free to ensnare the woman’s trachea. With his opponent in a successful figure four rear naked choke, Adam hissed, “Who the hell are you?!”




Titus was on his feet, rapidly spouting commands into the communicator of his lit up Omni-tool. “I want Trox and a team down here, ASAP!”

“Aye-Aye, Captain!” Connor’s voice responded over the net.

“Lance,” Titus barked, turning to the man, “I need you to... Lance?” His friend was leaning forward on the bleacher and eyes were intently staring at the battle. Titus wasn’t sure if the guy simply didn’t realize what was going on, or if he spotted something that the Captain had not.

After a short moment, Lance stood up and with a confident grin, said, “I know that ass.”

“....-the fuck?”




“Ask your precious Captain,” the woman’s venomous voice was distorted by the visor, but Adam doubted he would recognize it anyway. To no surprise, she put up a struggle, bring her head back, pushing against his right palm, and then grabbing his left elbow to push up and away, simultaneous grasping onto the wrist of his right hand. Once nearly out of the choke hold, Vala released his left elbow and used the now free arm to send her own elbow into the left side of the marine’s abdominals. Harrison buckled slightly from the pain, giving his opponent more room to wiggle out of his grasp and turn around to place his right arm into a very painful arm bar. She then delivered a series of breathtaking kicks to his abs, primarily focused on his already injured side.

Using one of the delays in between the kicks, Adam put as much as he could muster into an outburst of dark energy from his body; unleashing a mighty sphere that forced the stranger to release her vice grip on his arm and send her flying several yards across the arena floor. But in his peripherals, she had no problem sticking a graceful landing.

This bitch is a like some kind of damn cat, he thought. Quick. Graceful. Highly disciplined. But who does she work for?

It didn’t take him long to figure it out. Although there were no discernible logos or emblems on the woman’s strange armor, which seemed to come from some skunk works program, what she had said about asking his precious Captain finally clicked. Titus is ex-Cerberus. And Oracle had been expecting the Illusive Man to send someone out to clean up the mess. Adam’s opponent was no doubt a Cerberus agent out to perform just that. But then there was one other question: why is she fighting him? Titus was sitting just behind him in the stands. Either she had a heart and didn’t want to put innocent lives in danger, or she was only here to make a point. Or both. Whichever the case, he would have to figure things out later.

“Time to end this,” he grunted. Adam put himself into a defensive posture, but fired up his biotics once again. This time, he intended to use all of the arena’s disks. Within seconds, each one on the floor possessed a faint violet tint of dark energy rippling across their surfaces. As he carefully raised them all simultaneously in the air, he focused in on his target, and began unleashing two at a time. As expected, the woman dodged them gracefully, ducking and weaving as they came in close, ensuring that he would be unable to turn them around in time to retarget her. But once again, they were only for distraction and showmanship. With ten left floating, he sent them all at once to her, following it up by leaping through the air and twisting his body up and around in an aerial flip, landing on one foot and unleashing a powerful shockwave from the punch of a fist. The shockwave attack wasn’t quite as strong as his signature slash attack, primarily because he didn’t have a specially crafted katana equipped with a biotic amplifier; but he wouldn’t need it.

When he thought he finally had her, the woman pulled off a trick of her own. Every one of the ten disks suddenly exploded when they reached a level that put them parallel to each other; and with them out of the way, she successfully dodged the would-be-fatal shockwave. Adam stared wide-eyed at the woman, who now stood with cocked back shoulders, and a proud head held high, as long lashes of light-blue energy extended from her wrists. The tell-tale signs of biotic energy made it obvious that these whip-like tentacles weren’t technological accessories, but pure dark energy morphed and molded into a form that could grapple, and tear through, matter.

The woman wound back and lashed forward with one of the whips. Its range and speed was absolutely incredible, and Adam barely had time to roll out of the way. When he recovered to his feet, he looked up only to see another one flying toward him. But then the remarkable happened...




“You’re sure?” Titus demanded after Lance made the claim that the stranger was Vala Buchan.

Braden, having overheard everything and watching the fight unfold in front of his very eyes, was left confused and wondering. He fully understood that Cerberus would be after them; and they would probably never give up on chasing Captain Titus and his allies; but why did they have to send Vala? Was it a personal vendetta? A score to settle?

No, he thought, this isn’t right. We were all friends once... Weren’t we?

Memories from the Vindicator flashed through his mind in the form images and broken words. He remembered having a childish crush on the woman, along with Lance. He remembered how Vala had saved his life on Illium. And he remembered how strong, resilient, and courageous she had been. She was a role model to him. And now what was she? An enemy?

Without hesitation, Braden stood up from his seat and ran forward, leaping down across the bleachers. He heard Titus and Lance yell after him, but he wouldn’t let them stop him. With long strides and leaps downward, he hastened toward the arena floor; the familiar tingle of biotic energy sparking up and down his spine. When he reached the protective barrier that prevented stray biotics and disks from flying into the audience, he leaped off a guard rail and unleashed a powerful shockwave from his own body as he flew through the air. At such a close proximity, the barrier shattered into pieces, and large chucks of the reinforced glass fell into the arena beyond, him along with them, landing easily on his feet.

Looking up after the landing, he saw Adam dodge one of the violent whips that Vala had sent toward him at blinding speed; but the man wouldn’t be able to move out of the way of the second one, already on its way above the floor. Hardly thinking of a proper plan, Braden threw up both hands and felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his system. In an instant, a purple sphere phased into existence around Adam, repelling the lash in the nick of time. A second later, another sphere formed around Vala, cutting off the tail of the lash and forcing the energy to fade into oblivion.

“Stop!” he cried, catching his breath. Braden remained where he was standing, breathing heavily and focusing on keeping the barriers active and strong. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold the two at bay from one another, but he had to try.

“Vala?” he inquired after a few seconds. “Is that really you?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vala Buchan Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Jacob Torx Character Portrait: Jason Trox Character Portrait: Adam Harrison
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(music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYdSOCGBwLE )

“I don’t think I’m comfortable here.” Lizzie murmured as Jason led her into the dark club that’s only source of light were the flashing white and blue strobes that hung from the ceiling and illuminated the club like lightning strikes.

“Oh come on!” Jason urged as he pulled her through the door and over to the dance floor “It will be fun I promise.” The club was called Churoi’s and was owned by a volus of the same name. It wasn’t like most other bars and clubs on the Citadel that didn’t allow anybody below adult age in, here if you could pay you could play. Jason had paid the forty credit entry fee for both of them so he could guilt Lizzie into coming inside. She had a hesitant frown across her face as Jason practically threw her onto the dance floor and into the mesh of dancers, who were cramped into the dancing space with slightly more room than a sardine in a can. Lizzie looked extremely uncomfortable as she stood amongst the crowd, not even attempting to move with the rhythm of the heavy beat that thumped through the speakers.

“Come on get into a little.” Jason yelled over the music and started to pump his body in synchronization with the pounding beat of the techno music and the blinding flashes of the strobe lights. Lizzie slowly began to move her hips to the beat of the music, but her upper body was still stiff making her look like pendulum on a coco clock. Jason shook his head as he ran up next to her “No, no not like that come on!” he urged as he and began bobbing his head and snapping his body to the beat of the music.

Lizzie looked at him and tried to mimic his movements, but she gave up before even make a real attempt at it “Come on this is stupid! Let’s just go please.” She begged as Jason made his way behind her.

“You have to at least try!” he shouted over the pulsing beat “here let me help ya’.” Jason picked her arms up from her sides and brought them up just above here head and starting flailing them about in the air.

“What are you doing?” Lizzie giggled as Jason kept flailing her arms like she was some wacky cartoon character

“I’m trying to get you to dance! Come one if you don’t start moving your arms to the rhythm I’m just going to keep doing this!” Jason gave her one of his famous cocky smiles, and to his surprise Lizzie game a smile right back.

“I’ll dance, I’ll dance just stop that!” she laughed as Jason stepped back and she started to move her arms to the beat, her body began to sway with the rhythm but it all still seemed uncomfortable and unnatural.

“Put your body into it!” Jason said as he came over and grabbed the beautiful girl’s hips. She pulled away violently and turned to him with a little bit of irritation

“What do you think you’re doing? That’s not okay, okay?” She snapped at him

“Just relax; I’m only trying to help you get into the swing of thing!” He looked at her lustful eyes. He was speaking the truth; he was trying to help her dance since she moved like a dying sea turtle, but he trying to get his hands on her and move in a little closer as well. Who could blame him? Lizzie was a beautiful girl.

Lizzie looked at him, as she contemplated what to say. Then she turned back around and moved back into her original position “Okay, but no funny stuff.” She commanded. Jason smiled

“No funny stuff, I promise.”


******

The whiskey warmed Jacob’s blood as he took a swig from his silver flask then brought it back down between his legs and starred at his left hand. He closed the metallic fingers, then opened them, then closed them once more. The metallic fingers that were attached to his palm were just another reminder of the memories. Memories that he would rather have locked away forever, memories that required more whiskey to go away, he took another swig of whiskey and looked out over the small artificial lake he had found to sit by. Jillian would have loved the view, she always had a thing about water, said it reminded her of her home on Eden Prime long before the Geth invasion.

Jacob frowned, that day was the worst in his life…the day that she was ripped away from him. He looked at his hand and shook his head as a tear formed in the corner of his eye “I’m so sorry Jillian…I should have been able to stop them…I should have been able to save you” he held his tears back and leaned his head back and began to chug the last half of his whiskey. Still not enough alcohol, he would need to go back to the Marathon and refill, or maybe he would just find a bar somewhere and drown his sorrows there.

“Incoming transmission” a digitalized voice called out to Jacob from his Omni tool. He looked down to it and activated the communications array.

“Staff Lieutenant Trox.” Jacob recognized the voice as Connor DeMarco’s. Trox had talked to him a few times since he took the job as security specialist

“What is it Connor?” Jacob asked with irritation that was not meant to be directed at Connor.

“Captain Titus needs you to report to the cube immediately with a security detachment, they have a problem so go in with guns hot.” What? Captain Tummy Tickler was deploying the security force on the Citadel? There must be something big going on.

Trox’s old training kicked in and he began giving orders “I want six of my security officers, tell them to gear up with their High Risk Situations equipment make sure they have a sharp shooter and tell them to met me at the cube! Also warn C-SEC that an alliance Military Police team will be making a tactile entry into the cube arena.”

“Aye-aye sir.” DeMarco replied as Trox shoved he flask in his back pocket and bolted down the shining halls of the Citadel. As he ran he activated the map on his Omni tool so he could find his way to the Cube. He was forced to push pedestrians out of the way, since the streets were crowded with aliens and humans alike.

“Police! Police get out of the way, move your asses!” Trox was taken back to his day as a cop on Earth as he forced his way past people. He needed to get to the cube quick; he was in the mood to kick someone’s ass.


******

Lizzie tripped over her own feet laughing as her Jason made their way to a quiet corner of the dance club “So tell me I wasn’t right!” Jason yelled to Lizzie over the beating music.

“Okay, okay you were right!” Lizzie responded with a chuckle. She was a really good dancer when she got into it. Jason had been mesmerized by the way she had started moving her hips, and the way her body moved to the beat. The strobe lights had been bouncing off her hair, making her beauty even more defined in the harsh blue’s and whites of the club. When the two got over to the corner, where it was easier to hear once another, Lizzie inquired “How did you know about this place? It’s almost street level.”

Jason shrugged “Well my uncle was kinda’ strict so I spent a lot of time not doing what he said. He didn’t like me coming to these types of places, so I did and eventually I found all the good ones.”

“You know” Lizzie said with a serious look on her face “You shouldn’t have disobeyed him like that. It’s the fifth commandment ‘Honor thy father and thy mother, that your days may be long upon the Earth’.”

“Well I’m in luck.” Jason said with a know it all grin “He’s not my father; he’s my uncle so I’m in the clear.”

Lizzie gave him a crooked look “It’s talking about all your elders, plus if you spent most your life with him he is pretty much like your father so it would count anyway.”

Jason shook his head and his grin became a little less wide “Neither of my father figures were much of a father figure, so I think I’m safe.” Lizzie looked at him with a sympathetic stare like he was a hurt puppy, and it got his blood boiling. She was about to say something else but he interjected so that he wouldn’t go off on her “so, who was that guy you were with on the ship?’

She hesitated to answer, and just starred at Jason. She knew he was trying to avoid the subject so she decided not to chase it any longer “That was Braden, we have been friends a long time.”

“Oh really, so what’s your guy’s story? You two…” Jason brought his hands together in a joining gesture

Lizzie thought for a sec and smiled “yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“He looked kinda’ young, how old is he?” Jason asked with a shred of curiosity

“He is fifteen.”

“Fifteen? And you’re seventeen aren’t you?” fifteen! Fifteen! Jason thought to himself my competitions a goddamn fifteen year old!?

“Yeah, but he acts much older then he is. Plus it’s only two years so it’s not that big of a leap.” Lizzie answered with a shrug

“Hmm, well there must be more than meets the eye if he was able to snag a beautiful girl such as you.” Lizzie blushed a little, and Jason grinned yep, that’s right just working the magic he though arrogantly to himself

“Well, he’s smart, kind, good hearted.” She drifted off and Jason looked at her crookedly so he is a goodie two shoes?

“That’s it, nothing else spectacular that makes you like him? Because to be honest I think I could take him.” Jason made a mock muscle and showed off like he was some body builder.

Lizzie rolled her eyes “Yeah I don’t think so Jason.” She said with a grin

“And why not?” Jason arrogantly asked

“Because he is a biotic, I think he could handle you.” She said with a playful smile, but Jason’s grin dissipated like she had just punched him in the stomach

“He…he’s a biotic?” Jason asked, not sure if he had heard her right over the music

Lizzie looked at him strangely, wondering what had brought about this sudden behavior “Yeah…why is there something wrong with that?”

Jason cocked his head for a second and ran a hand past his mouth “Well, um no not with me I’m fine with biotics.”

“Then what is it?” Lizzie asked impatiently

“Well.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck “My dad doesn’t take to kindly to them, so you might want to keep Braden away from him.” He had seen his dad around biotics before, it wasn’t pretty.

“Your dad doesn’t like biotics?! I’ve seen him with that silver asari flask of his, they are biotics!” Lizzie growled, a little angered on Braden’s behalf

“It’s not all biotics he doesn’t like…just human ones.” He said cautiously

“What’s wrong with human biotics!?” Lizzie snapped, still with a tone of irritated anger in her voice

Jason didn’t answer, he looked to the floor, a feeling of utter emptiness started to overflow him and that aura reached Lizzie who starred at him awkwardly. The thought of what happened brought an unbearable pain to his heart, “A long time ago…when I was almost four…” he stopped and put a hand on his heart, the pain was still there “A biotic killed my mom.” Jason shook his head, he was so young but he could remember it so vividly like it was seared into his mind. He shook his head “It…was so long ago but I can remember it so clear.” He had to fight to hold back tears, that day tore his family apart. He grabbed onto his chest right above his heart and held it tight, and he and his dad had permanent reminders of it.

Lizzie looked at him with guilt written all over her face “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean too…” she trailed off, obviously in a little shock

“No...It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” Of course it wasn’t really fine, but he had learned to lock that pain away.

There were a few moments of silence, but then the strobe lights turned a light, red and a techno song meant for close dancing began to play over the speakers

(Music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3W8Of04PvOI )

Jason started moving to the beat and looked at Lizzie with a smile that he forced himself to put on “Come on let’s dance”

Lizzie shook her head “but-” Jason didn’t give her a chance to answer as he put a hand on her back and started walking her to the dance floor “I don’t know about this.” She said as she looked at the other people in the club dancing extremely close to one another, but then Jason grabbed her hands

“Come on it will be fun.” He smirked as he pulled her over to the dance floor, she looked uncomfortable again so Jason did most the dancing at first “Come on move it! You were great before!” He egged her on, and with an unsure smile she began to dance with the boy. As Jason got closer in, to where their bodies were almost touching his smile became real, and hers became sure as they danced like they had no worries in the universe.

*****

By the time Jacob had made it to the entrance of the cube, his assembled team was just arriving. The team was decked out in bulky, grey, assault armor and totting assault rifles. They looked like a true force to be reckoned with. As Jacob got within a few dozen feet of the entrance he pulled his pistol, he knew he should have packed his Assault rifle.

“I want an assault entry! Clear the room for hostiles and for God sakes don’t shoot a civvie!” The team stacked up at the entrance and Jacob got at the end of the line right behind a woman with a sniper rifle “that you Jackson?” Jacob asked the women.

“Yes sir!” the women answered with an unhindered focus

“I want you as far back and high as possible, keep a look out for any hidden threats.” Jacob ordered

“Ready for entry?” the point man asked as civilians looked on in confusion. Jacob patted Jackson on the back, then she patted the officer in front of her and so on all the way up the line until the point man had been patted. Then as quick as a flash the point man hit the button to open the door and he rushed in going right, the man behind him going left and so on in that pattern as the whole team entered the arena seating area.

Each officer, including Jacob, yelled to the civilians around them “Military Police stay in your seats!” Jacob scanned the rows for any signs of a threat, but he couldn’t see anything he wouldn’t expect not the see there. In fact everyone seemed rather calm, except for the people who saw the alliance marines busting in with guns ready. Jacob scanned the seats for the captain and spotted him with some other Marathon crew members observing the security team’s entry. Quickly Jacob ran over to the captain and stopped when he was next to him, still searching for a threat in the seats.

“Where’s the threat boss’?” Jacob inquired to his commander, who pointed to the arena at a figure that wore a helmet but was obviously a women by her figure. She was standing, staring at Harrison and a kid that Jacob had seen once or twice on the ship but wasn’t sure who was. He looked a closely and saw the biotic energy extending from the woman’s hands…and his blood boiled to an absolute rage. “Team, the threat is a woman in the middle of the arena! Get to firing positions around the seating area and take aim, Jackson I want you aimed up for a clean head shot.” The team moved instantly, each member taking up a firing position at least forty feet away from one another.

“Orders boss’?” Jacob inquired, but in his mind he wasn’t looking for any other answer to the question besides ‘take the shot’. Let me kill her, let me kill her, you know you want to let me kill her . Jacob’s earlier reminiscence about his wife put him in a foul mood, and now all he wanted was to see a biotic dead.

“Hold your fire Trox.” Tummy Tickler said, What?!

“Sir?” Jacob asked with shock

“Hold your fire.” The Captain repeated

“Sir, with all do respect we can end whatever is happening now!” he got close to the captains ear “We can blow her fucking head off right now.”

The captain looked at Jacob with a look of irritation and slight anger “I said hold your fire, Staff Lieutenant.” Jacob shook his head and ran his metallic fingers through his beard. He then angrily pressed the communications button on his Omni tool so he could speak to his team

“Hold your fire. But Jackson, keep a bead on that bitch down there.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Jackson replied.

Jacob looked on at the scene that was taking place, and then grunted with disgust at the captains orders as he continued to scan the arena for a secondary threat.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vala Buchan Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Charlie Welles Character Portrait: Wyatt Sinoff Character Portrait: Lance Williams
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As she reared the second whip for the strike, Vala’s eyes noticed the slightest flicker in her peripheries, seconds before the biotic barrier defended Harrison from her attack. The Deliverance commander took a step back, but another bubble soon snapped around her, severing the extended whip and making the removed end vanish into nothing. It took her only a moment to process it, eyes snapping instantly to the newcomer to the arena. She was still under his gaze, helmeted gaze watching silently.


“Vala?” Braden inquired after a few seconds. “Is that really you?”

It was a possibility she should have prepared for. She’d seen him in the picture, departing the Marathon with Titus, Harrison and Lance. There was always a chance he was going to get involved. Quietly, never letting the N7 leave her field of vision, she turned more to focus on the young man. Her external speakers crackled. “Braden...you shouldn’t be getting involved.”

"Involved?" the boy responded, his expression conveying insult. "I've been involved."

“That doesn’t mean you should continue to be.” Her eyes flicked cautiously to the N7, who seemed to be as locked down as she was. “This isn’t your fight. There’s no need for you to be here.” Her words faltered, as she considered her orders for a moment. Titus was to be eliminated if possible, and the logical extension meant that applied to his crew. Was Braden..? “Did Titus send you down here?”

"No," he said, though not as loudly as he had previously spoken. "I'm here on my own. Why are you fighting us? I know you’re Cerberus... and we're not anymore, but... We were friends. Right?" Casting her eyes at the floor, Vala thought for a moment before responding.

“Yes. Yes, we were.” Her voice was soft, and she stepped towards the edge of the barrier, touching it lightly with the tips of her fingers. “And there’s very little that says you can’t still be my friend, Braden.” Her gaze shifted, staring up at Titus behind him. “Save for the very people I’m fighting. After all…I’m a terrorist to them. A murderer.”

"N-no!" Braden shook his head, seemingly rejecting the idea. A bead of sweat could be seen trickling down from his forehead. Constantly maintaining the strength of the barriers was beginning to take its toll. "That's not true," he went on. "You do what's right. You protect... You have to. That's what Cerberus stands for; right? You saved me."

Vala tapped a key on her omni-tool, visor of the Nyx parting into the sides of her helmet to reveal her face. Her eyes watched the boy softly, a gentle smile upturning her lips. “That’s right. I fight to protect. We can’t save everyone…but we’re willing to do what has to be done to save lives.” She lowered her hand from the barrier. “Cerberus will always fight to protect us. Always.”

Braden's eyes narrowed and he lowered his head to the ground, taking heavy breaths in order to keep the oxygen flowing and stay concentrated. "Then stop this," he finally said. His fingers twitched slightly as the violet hue around his hands faded and the barriers dissipated.

Harrison was immediately back in a defensive stance, but he made no move to attack her. She watched him for only a moment, as the shouts from the arena around her reached her ears. Several officers, six or so if she counted correctly, entered the bleachers, quickly taking position around the arena. After a moment of quiet consideration, Vala nodded lightly.

“Alright, Braden. I can do that today.” Her smile sadden, eyes not drifting from the boy. “But I can’t stop forever. These people attacked us first. They took my friend. They tried to kill us.” The infiltrator took a slow step towards the teen, holding her hand out to him. “I don’t want you caught in that crossfire. I know someplace far from this…somewhere all this fighting isn’t. A place you could have some peace, and grow into the man you want to be.”

Braden took a step back, regaining his focus after his use of biotics. After he took a moment of pause to consider Vala's offer, he sadly shook his head no. "I don't know what I want yet." Her hand fell back to her side, nodding to his response.

“That’s fine.” Looking to the guns trained on her, Vala’s eyes squeezed shut, her smile slowly fading. “When you decide…let me know. Stay safe until then, okay?” There was no disappointment in her voice, just an understanding of the boy’s fragile state. “And if you ever need me, I‘ll come running.” Her visor clicked shut over her face, once more concealing her from the prying eyes of the world. “El, Jones.”

“Looking a little hot down there, Ma’am…” El commented, signalling they’d at least been paying attention. “We’ve got eyes on a marksman who thinks your head is mighty pretty.”

“I figured, but I’m not overly worried.”

Jones was quick to reply. “Can you catch bullets with your teeth? Cause that’d be pretty fucking amazing.” Ignoring the commando, Vala tilted her head back slightly, looking past the military police to stare coldly at the man behind them. Her speakers crackled and boomed, amplified by the arena acoustics.

“Content to sit up there while others run into the fray, ‘Captain’?”

A corner of Titus' lips turn into an upward smirk and he replied with equal volume, "Braden jumped down there to confront you on his own, Vala. I had nothing to do with that. Besides, I don't have a gun or biotics. I'm no fool."

“Some might argue otherwise with your choices of late.” Pulling a small pistol-like contraption from her belt, she fired it off towards the catwalk; the carbon fibre arcing high into the air before imbedding itself in the fixture above. “Best be ready next time. I won’t hesitate.” With a solid tug and a fluid flick of the hand, she fastened the line to her belt, the small system whirring to lift and hoisting the infiltrator high into the air. She watched the man for a moment longer, before looking down at Braden. “Till then, Jonathan.”

Without another word, her cloak flickered over her body, and Vala vanished from sight. There was a pause, before Lance shouted at the darkness above. “Not even a ‘Hey, Lance!’?! C’mon! I’m here too!” There was a moment’s pause, before her voice echoed down from above, dry and un-amused.

“Hello, Lance.”

The man grinned at no one in particular. “Told you we have a thing.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their flight from the cube was smooth, dodging the few security forces present to disperse into the streets. The cloak made it difficult to spot the trio, but even so they clung to the few precious shadows available to them in the flashy neon lights of the citadel. El and Jones spent the entire time firing back and forth between each other, so fast that Vala didn’t even bother to attempt to keep up with their conversation.

As they crept into a narrow but deserted alley, Vala hunkered down in an attempt to catch her breath. Something the commandos instantly noticed. “You alright, Ma’am? Sound a little tired.” El asked; concern in her voice.

Vala nodded as the Hound knelt next to her, Jones opting to keep an eye out for any patrols from C-Sec. Jo had passed along a hacked channel of C-Sec communication, and they had increased their presence in the area in response to their little…show. It wasn’t clear if they knew they’d ‘escaped’, but the threat of running into C-Sec in combat armour was unappealing.

“Open up.” She felt El knock lightly on the visor, but she could see the small hip flask the woman was offering. “Got some energy juice for you. Keep you running till we can get out of this junk.”

“Stripping with the boss, El? This I gotta see.” Jones quipped, earning a playful glare from his partner. “Watch duty, right. Gotta make sure it’s a private show.” Vala chose not to comment, making a note to speak with Charlie when she returned to the Deliverance about his commandos. Taking the small flask, her visor parted slightly, enough for her to press the liquid to her lips and take a slight swig. It was, pleasantly, not alcohol, instead some sort of smoothie like drink.

Offering the flask back, Vala remained seated for a few moments longer. “Biotics always get so tired…” El mused aloud; not really straying from her superior’s side. “That stuff you pulled was impressive as hell. Guess it’s got a price?”

“Everything has a price.” Vala responded, pushing off the wall to stand straight once more. “And I’d be thrilled if we can keep it low. Let’s get moving. Jo, can you get us a path past most of the patrols?” In no time flat, a route quickly painted itself on their HUD map. “Good work. Jones, take point.” He nodded, quickly heading deeper into the alley with Vala and El close behind.

It took only a half hour for them to weave across the district, dodging dozens of patrols on route to the safe house. Once inside, she wasted little time shedding the Nyx and storing it back in the case which they’d hauled it in with. Jones wasted little time securing it to his back, while El gave Vala another swig of that strange brew of hers. “You two will be fine to get back to the ship?”

“No sweat.” Jones grinned, adjusting the straps slightly. “The Citadel has so many holes in its security it’s sad. We could probably walk through the front door if we really wanted to.” Vala fixed him with a stern look, as he hastily added. “Not that we do in the slightest. Quiet as mice.”

“I’ll keep him in line.” El chuckled, stepping over beside her partner. “Meet you back on the Deliverance, Ma’am. We owe you a drink after the show you put on.” The two gave light, two fingered salutes before their cloaks made them vanish into the black of the room. After their footsteps echoed into silence, Vala rose and hauled herself up the ladder into the familiar cramped hall that led to the deserted alley.

Taking a minute to assess the surroundings, Vala slid on her sunglasses, glancing at the various passers-by. Pressing a finger to the comm piece in her ear, she spoke. “Keagan. How we looking?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rendezvousing with Keagan was smooth, waiting in the same intersection they’d split up for her. As she approached, her eyes caught glimpse of the small bag dangling from his grip as he lazily waved his hand at waist level. Once close enough to talk, she pointed at it. “Did some shopping after lunch?” The sarcasm was thick, but he took it good-naturedly.

“Not at all. I actually just picked up some food for you, Ms. Moir. An excellent Fettuccini Alfredo, made by an asari chef so skilled you could have sworn she was born in Italy.” He paused, as if entertaining the thought, a slight smile etched on his face. “Not as impossible as it might sound really…it’s almost like a different planet there anyway.”

Vala shook her head slightly, taking the bag graciously as they fell into step with each other, heading back the way they’d come. “Thanks….although how did you know I li-”

“Your affection for pasta is not much of a secret, I assure you. Anyone with a second grade education can deduce that by the way your eyes lit up when I mentioned it.” His smile had the slightest, arrogant edge, but she couldn’t really fault him for it. “Besides, you’ll find I know far more about you than you might suspect. I always do my research, and quite thoroughly.”

“I’m not sure if I should be glad or disturbed…”

“No need to decide right away.” Seemingly satisfied with their inane conversation, he shifted focus to the mission. “I take it you managed to get the message across? The news networks have been a buzz about your little show.”

“I think it was clear. Harrison got lucky today, if…there hadn’t been outside interference, he’d be leaving the Cube in pieces.”

“And your cover?”

“Safe. They won’t be able to identify me from what little face I showed.” The pair slowed, foot traffic slightly congested from C-Sec officers moving through the area. “So long as the Hounds make it back to the Deliverance in one piece, it’s safe to chalk up a success.”

“Delightful. I can think of few better ways to christen a new vessel.” Stroking his chin, Keagan watched a pair of officers move past as they drew closer to the CHA private dock. “A tad sluggish for C-Sec. You’d think they’d have gotten more personnel on site faster.”

Vala didn’t respond; face setting into even neutrality as they approached the lift back to the ship. As they rose above the slight chaos on the streets below, Keagan simply shook his head. “Really, what did they think was going to happen?”

“Who?”

“This Oracle. Making enemies is the worst thing you can do in the backrooms.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Keagan chuckled, not bothering to respond as the lift opened to the Deliverance and the aide from before. She smiled at Keagan, but was clearly more preoccupied with work behind her small station. The two walked casually up towards the ship, airlock hissing open to greet them and sealing behind them once they were inside.

Vala shot him a sharp look. “How often am I going to be stuck as this ‘Mia Moir’, by the way?” He tapped his chin, thinking on the subject while the decontamination cycle purified them of any bacteria.

“Generally whenever you decide to go romping about on Alliance worlds, or the Citadel. Our pesky counterpart has cast a wide net to ensnare our operatives. Fortunately for us…their eyes are limited, just like ours. The ship is a safe haven, so feel free to be yourself.” The interior seal opened, and the yeoman stepped out quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to take care of.”

“Of course.” He headed towards the lift, and Vala watched him go for a moment before the movement of the pilot chair caught her eye. She half-turned to Ronas, who grinned in greeting. “Enjoying yourself, Ronas?”

“Just breaking in my chair, really. If we’re stealthy, I’ll be spending most of my time in this seat doing nothing much, so I’d like to be as comfortable as I can make it.”

“No excuse to get lazy.”

“Relaxed is different from lazy. It’s always better to be relaxed than a bundle of nerves; those guys are really twitchy when they fly.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Carry on then.” Footsteps echoing behind her, Vala turned to greet the source, blinking when she came face to chest with who she could only assume was Sinoff. Tilting her head back slightly, she raised an eyebrow at the man. “Need me for something, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Operative Sedlack would like to speak with you, Commander.” He replied, gesturing down the helm to the CIC, where Alexis was leaning against the galaxy map display. Wyatt wasted little time answering the unspoken question on her lips. “Her cane isn't effective in a ship environment. The long stretches are proving to be exhausting.” To his credit, he didn’t seem overly bothered by playing errand boy for his ‘mentor’.

“I don’t really understand how she gets around a bar on that thing, let alone an entire floor. I’ll talk to her, thanks for telling me.” She started past him, pausing with an affirmative pat to his chest. “And feel free to pass it onto a grunt next time. You’re busy without playing messenger.” He nodded in affirmative, and she continued on, hearing the future 2IC give a sharp order to Ronas as she went.

As she approached, Alexis gave her a weary wave, looking rather worn out for someone who’d spent all their time on ship. “Welcome back, Ivory. Nice work out there.” Vala grinned lightly as she continued. “I already forwarded a preliminary report to the Illusive Man, so you’re off the hook for now.”

“Thanks. I could have taken care of it, you know.” The older woman scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “I use to do more paperwork than you did, Scorpion…”

“I’m giving you some free time, if you want to piss it away on fancy reports, that’s your prerogative.” Straightening up from the display, she planted her cane firmly, already looking displeased with the prospect of having to move. “More importantly though, there’s someone I figure you should meet.” Her stride was understandably slow, and the two circled round the CIC slowly until they reached a small station near the Helm’s walkway.

Alexis announced their presence by slamming the bottom of her cane on the floor loudly, causing the station’s operator to practically come out of their skin, spinning the chair around in a panic and half-leaping into a standing position. “I’m sorry, Ma’am! Won’t happen again Ma-”

“You’re not in trouble, Govern.” Alexis commented dryly, clearly amused by her panicked reaction. She gestured to Vala, who offered a hand in greeting. “This is the Commander. Vala Buchan. Commander, Agent Celeste Govern.”

“Pleasure.” The woman quickly took the hand, shaking it meekly before retracting it and fiddling with the hem of her uniform. She didn’t have the look of a fighter, a small frame with a huddled posture. Her eyes were light green, and her soft brown hair was bobbed around her chin for a slightly more professional look than most of her crew hand. “What is it you do in the CIC, Agent?”

“Oh, I’m…not really important in the CIC. I’m the field handler. Your field handler, actually.” Vala blinked, looking at Alexis who simply nodded in reply.

“But if you’re the handler…”

“Didn’t feel she was necessary.” Scorpion admitted, tapping a finger against her cane in thought. “Which seems to have been accurate? I’ll make sure Govern is on hand for all your future missions, though.”

“Please do…” Ignoring Alexis’s casual explanation, she focused back on Celeste. “So, do you have much experience?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I've actually been a handler primarily with the Hell Hounds. Lieutenant Commander Welles helped me with my initial training, and has tried to keep me close to the unit ever since.” That was unexpected. Celeste didn’t look like the type to handle the blacker shades well, but perhaps she had a few hidden fires that Vala wasn’t aware of.

“You’re associated with them? I’m not sure if that’s good news or bad…” Celeste titled her head, slightly confused. “I just met some of the Hounds on my operation is all. They’re good, if a little…eccentric.”

The handler gave a light smile, accompanied by a soft, airy laugh. “That’s the Hounds alright. You get use to it pretty quick.” She wasn’t really sure if getting use to the oddity of those two was really in her best interest, but she didn’t give any outward sign. Before they could continue, Ronas appeared beside Celeste, looking mildly irritated. “Oh, Helmsman Chekan. Is something the matter?”

His deadpan spoke wonders. “I have an invisible woman banging on my window.” The trio of women blinked in response, varying degrees of confusion on their faces. Vala clued in first.

“Oh! El!” Celeste straightened at the mention of the Hound, looking back at her station which had a pair of blinking lights alerting her to the attempted communications.

“Oops! I got distracted! I’ll let them in right now.” She hopped into her seat, quickly sliding on a headset as she gave an apologetic look to Ronas. “I’m sorry, Helmsman.” The man watched her for a moment, before sighing and waving it off.

“Don’t sweat it. Just nearly gave me a heart attack.” He started back towards the Helm, and Celeste gave one last glance to Vala.

“It was nice to meet you, Commander.”

“Likewise.” Deciding it best to let her work, the pair started towards the lift, Alexis lagging behind a few steps. Looking over her shoulder, Commander Buchan gave her friend a light-hearted sigh. “You know you should head to the med-bay, see about getting something a little sturdier.”

“Probably.” The operative grunted. “But I’ll labour on for at least another day before then.”

“Your pride wouldn't let you do any less.” Watching her friend retake her perch, Vala debated mentally what she should do with her time before filing a report. They wouldn't leave the Citadel right away, not until C-Sec got a little less riled up, and Alexis had taken care of the report for the time being. Deep in thought, Vala tapped the key to the lift, which opened instantly to reveal Charlie.

“Ah, perfect.” She blinked in surprise at his sudden appearance, looking up at the commando. “I was hoping I’d catch you, Commander.”

“Oh?”

Welles gave her a large grin, motioning for her to board the lift. “If you've got the time, I think it’s time to properly introduce you to the Hell Hounds.” She chuckled breathlessly, stepping onto the lift. “Can’t have El and Jones giving you a bad impression of us all.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson
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Nearly a hundred different thoughts flashed through Titus’ cramped mind as he marched his way toward the main sick bay on the Marathon’s third deck. After having made it out of the Cube in one piece and safely away from the chaos of the panicking civilians, him and his group immediately made for the cruiser. While they were still docked, he asked C-Sec to increase patrols around the area in case Buchan decided to turn around and finish what Titus knew she originally came to do.

He was angry, and for many reasons. Harrison was almost killed by a former ally, Braden decided to play hero... again, his Chief of Security nearly disobeyed a direct order, and innocent civilians were placed in harm’s way. But above all else, he was mostly angry with himself. He let his arrogance fool him into thinking that it was safe to show his face in a very public setting. He put others’ lives in danger along with his own.

There was a hiss as the double sliding glass doors to the medical bay opened before him. The Captain maintained his approach and walked straight through the front lobby and down a small corridor that led to the private examination rooms. He turned into an open doorway, where a small LED sign on the wall outside was labelled with a glowing blue “3”, and found Veronica looking intently at a tall display of a human being’s biometric profile. The particular human was Adam Harrison, who sat atop the exam table wearing only a short-sleeved, thigh-length patient gown. Braden Reynolds sat in a chair next to the table, sipping on a small box of juice.

“How’s he look?” Titus asked, bringing everyone in the room to face him. Adam tried to stand up off of the exam table to properly acknowledge John’s ranking presence, but the Captain held up a hand to keep him where he was.

Veronica returned to looking at the monitor, rubbing her chin. “No broken bones or even a hint of a single fracture,” she said. “Negative signs of internal bleeding... Only some nasty outer bruising. He’ll be sore for a few days, but some mild exercise and adequate rest will remedy that in no time.”

“How are you feeling?” Titus asked Adam with a slight smile from the good news.

Harrison shrugged his shoulders. “If not for the fact that my pride has taken a ding due to having my ass handed to me by a chick, I’d say I’m feelin’ pretty good. Hungry as shit, though.” Adam glanced down at Braden as soon as the expletive left his mouth. “Uh, sorry.”

Braden rolled his eyes. “Fuck it,” he said, “I hear enough of it on a military vessel.”

“Braden!” Veronica snapped, scowling at the teen.

The young man grinned, but the smile soon faded into a look of complete guilt when his eyes met Titus’. “I’m... sorry, sir... For jumping out there like that.”

“Don’t sweat it, son,” Titus said. The Captain thought he felt his heart skip a beat when that final word left his lips. Son. He sounded like an old man speaking to his own child. He wasn’t sure where it had come from. Was Braden starting to feel like a true son to him after all this time around the kid? He did find himself constantly concerned for the boy, and there was no doubt that a certain affection for him had developed; but it was hard to decipher their relationship.

“I better get up to the QEC and report in to the Operator. I’m sure she’ll want to hear about what went down out there.” Titus turned out of the exam room and headed back towards the lobby of the medical bay, once there he passed by Connor DeMarco, who was quickly making his way into the bay from outside.

“Hi, Captain, is-?”

“Your boyfriend’s fine,” Titus said, cutting him off. “Exam room three.” The Captain pressed on, leaving Connor to continue his false confusion amid deep blushing. Titus couldn’t help but to allow himself a silent chuckle as he left medical bay.




“And who is she?” Sibyl asked, sitting behind her desk in an office deep within Arcturus Station, humanity’s single greatest off-world construct. Before her, projected in the center of the immaculate office by the QEC pad, stood Captain Titus’ hologram.

“Operative Vala Buchan,” he replied. “She’s a deep-cover Cerberus asset, and highly favored by the Illusive Man. She was previously tasked with ensuring Omni Cell’s unity. Having obviously failed at that, it appears her priorities have changed.”

“So the Illusive Man is attempting to tie up any loose ends,” Sibyl said. “And who better than an old friend?”

The question was rhetorical, but Titus replied nonetheless. “Vala and I were never really friends, Sib. She’s... difficult to get along with.”

“Is she a threat?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean,” Sibyl leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair and interlacing her fingers as she continued, “do I need to assign someone to track this woman’s whereabouts and eliminate her from the game, or can you handle her?”

Titus took a moment to consider what Sibyl was asking before answering the question. “Buchan has... changed. There was something way different about her back at the Cube. Before, her biotics were barely strong enough to lift a glass of water. But in that arena, she nearly tore Harrison to shreds with nothing but biotics. It’s obvious she’s had some upgrades, and until I know how much has changed, it’s best you let me take her on by myself. Don’t risk any others until we know the extent of her reach.”

Sibyl raised a curious brow, but conceded. “Very well,” she replied. “Just keep me posted on any changes. And before I let you go, there will be a slight alteration in your course to the Subtle Wind assignment.”

“Oh?”

“Commander Benjamin Slatton will be needing a pick-up. I’ve already had Prophet forward the exact coordinates of the RV point to Flight Lieutenant Mansfield. Before you, he was Oracle’s only active military asset. He had a good crew and ship, but a recent conflict with Cerberus has left him without either.” Sibyl noticed a slight change in her friend’s expression. “Something the matter, Jonathan?”

“Buchan mentioned that we had took a friend of hers, and that we attacked first. If this Commander Slatton is your only other military asset, would he have something to do with that?”

Sibyl smiled. She knew she couldn’t keep anything from her longtime friend for long, and she was glad to see that he was still as sharp as he had been when they served together as marines. “We had captured and detained a Cerberus operative that was serving under Commander Horn. We were holding him at a facility on-”

“Horn?!” Titus’ sudden outburst surprised the woman.

“Yes.”

“When you brought me back into the Alliance and I told you everything I knew about Cerberus, I gave you a list of names, remember? The do-not-fuck-with-these-people list?”

Sibyl grinned. “Ah yes. I believe I misplaced that particular file.”

Titus was unamused by her joking and only sighed in disappointment. “Sib, I realize that you want revenge against Cerberus after what they did to-”

“-Jonathan-”

“-but you have got to take my word on this: there are certain people within that organization that you do not want to cross. Jason Horn is one of them, and after what I saw back in the Cube, you can add Vala Buchan to that list.” Titus sighed again before daring to ask his next question. “Who did you capture?”

“A marine named Daniel Harrens. He calls himself a ‘Demon’. Any idea what that means?”

Titus stared at her with a disturbingly blank expression. “Yeah, this Commander Slatton dude was fucked from the beginning.”




Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

Corporal Neal Striker always pushed himself to go above and beyond what was expected of him, even if that meant a few reps of push ups with his brother, Reece. Neal and Reece were twins, both blondes, both slim but fit, and both had a knack for getting into trouble. The kind of trouble they preferred, however, typically involved dangerous mission assignments with a lot of risk and reward.

“You know,” a petite woman’s voice said from above them, “it almost looks like you two are racing.”

Neal glanced up to see Private Nora Waverly standing above them with hands on her hips, leaning over to eye the two as they pumped out their push ups at nearly lightning speed. But she was wrong. They weren’t racing, they were merely keeping pace with one another. It was a twin thing. Whatever workout routine they practiced, they set a pace, typically faster than what most would like, and they stuck with each other.

“Wanna join us, Waverly?” Neal invited, drawing out the words in between his breaths.

“Unless that’s a directive from you as my fire team leader, I’ll pass.”

The Striker twins grinned. “Suit yourself,” Neal said.

Neal and Reece were both leaders of their own fire teams, and members of the Aurora Initiative. While their security clearance was Top Secret and they belonged to an outfit that technically didn’t exist, attached to another branch that also didn’t exist, they were Alliance marines first and foremost. Waverly was one of the members of Neal’s fire team, code named Sierra 004. Reece was in charge of 002. Both teams had hit the gym on the fourth deck for a bit of PT.

As the main doors to the gym hissed open, Neal looked up to get a glimpse of who was walking in.

“Hey, why’d you stop?” Reece demanded, looking at his brother.

Neal didn’t even realize he had stopped in the up position to gawk at the gorgeous light-brunette walking into gym in her PT uniform. Smooth legs, perfectly tuned body, tall, and just damn. Reece finally followed Neal’s widened eyes and... he started staring too.

Both of them shot to their feet at the same time, but Neal placed a hand in front of his brother. “No way, man. I saw her first.”

Reece backed off and shrugged his shoulders. “Go for it, bro. But just know I’ll be right here... waiting for you to fall flat on your ugly face.”

“We share that ugly face,” Neal joked back. “Remember that!”

Neal brought his shoulders back and chest out as he confidently walked over to the gym’s new occupant. When he stood before her, she cast him a curious glance with graceful eyes. Neal took the time to properly position himself so he completely dominated her vision, ensuring Reece couldn’t be seen behind him in the background to screw up his introduction.

With hands behind his back and a sly smile, Neal said, “Hello there, I’m Corporal Neal Striker. I lead fire team zero-zero-four.”

“Oh really?” the woman asked. “You’re a fire team leader, huh? How impressive.”

Catching the slight air of sarcasm in her tone, Neal became hesitant. “Uh, yeah... I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh sorry,” she said with a flaunt of her wrist towards her chest. “Where are my manners? I’m Rhonda Thomas. Major Rhonda Thomas. I lead all of the fire teams on the Marathon.”

Completely dumbstruck, Neal instantly took a step back and straightened himself out to a position of attention, yelling immediately, “Officer on deck!” Both fire teams quickly fell in beside him in ranking order and according to their team, with 002 directly behind 004.

“Listen up,” Thomas barked, putting herself into a slow pace in front of the detail. “I came down here to find out if the assets I’ve been placed in charge of are capable of proving themselves to be marines. So far, I’m not impressed.”

“Way to go, jackass,” Reece whispered loud enough for his brother to hear him. Unfortunately, it was too loud, and Major Thomas’ eyes shot over to the man.

“Got something to say, Corporal?”

“Negative, ma’am!” Reece answered.

“I think you do. Spit it out!”

Neal could hear his twin swallow hard before shouting. “I was calling my brother a jackass, ma’am!”

The Major grinned before replying, “On that we can agree. Flutter kicks! Drop!”

Reece did as ordered and fell to the floor on his back, bringing his legs up to start kicking in rapid succession with hands hovering just off of the floor and at his sides.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Dianna Henricksen Character Portrait: Private Mido Hamaada Character Portrait: Sargent Hiro Kuriyama Character Portrait: Specialist Brody Caramelli
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Almost immediately after Titus took command of the Marathon, the Captain decided to start putting his stamp on his crew. He began with going through reports from all departments and recommendations on file to make some personnel changes. He had two fire teams, but he wanted someone to head up the second one. Someone with combat experience, so he went through the files. He found several qualified candidates, but more and more, the notable absence of a file kept coming to the forefront of his mind. The merc, Dianna Henricksen. Or Ostrander now, according to the meager file Sybil had provided him. He needed to know how the former Marine handled herself. He needed to be sure she could be trusted. “Prophet, when he comes aboard, assign Hiro Kuriyama to Fire Team Cobalt as second and ask Dianna Ostrander to come see me, please.”

“Very well, Captain Titus.” The A.I. acknowledged.

Ten minutes later, a piping tone at Titus’ office door announced Dianna had arrived. He called for her to enter and when the door swished open it revealed Dianna in a freshly-pressed Alliance uniform. She stepped into the room and offered a smart salute, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

Titus sighed and returned the salute before asking her to sit. Once she did, Titus asked, “You know that I have told the crew how I feel about saluting?”

Dianna nodded, her pale gray eyes meeting his calmly, “Yes, Sir. I know.”

Titus quirked a brow at the woman across from him. Somehow, he knew instinctively that regardless of his personal feelings about being saluted, she was going to salute him just the same. He decided to move on to the reason he’d called her to his office. “You have tactical team experience, I understand?”

Dianna nodded, “I do, Sir. Vanguard class.”

Titus nodded, “How do you feel about taking command of a Fire Team?” He waited, studying her for any tale-tell signs of how her mind worked.

Dianna’s gears were spinning in her head. Command meant she would be responsible for the lives of others. She wasn’t the finest tactician, but she did think things through. She was not personable, so making a cohesive team would be more difficult. She would lead by example and find a good sounding board. All of these thoughts went through her mind in less than a few heart-beats. Dianna lifted her eyes to meet Titus’ once more, “I won’t let you down, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Titus smiled finally, “Don’t thank me yet.” He said. “Prove me right.”
______________________________________________________________________________

During the outfitting of the Marathon at Lookout Station, some crew transferred out and some transferred in. One of the new crew members coming aboard for the first time was Sargent Hiro Kuriyama. He was a lean Japanese man with compact muscle reminiscent of a dancer. His Alliance uniform was immaculate and pressed perfectly. As he came aboard with his duffle slung over one shoulder and a hard sword case over the other, his gentle smile suddenly bloomed when he saw a young Marine leaning against a bulkhead with an answering grin on his face.

Hiro headed for Harrison and the pair of friends clasped hands and then gave one another a brief hug, clapping each other on the back. Hiro shook his head at his friend, “Didn’t think I’d ever run into you again, Adam. You catching a ride or assigned here?”

Harrison reached for Hiro’s duffel and turned to lead his old friend toward his assigned room. “Yeah, I’m assigned to the Marathon for now.” He indicated Hiro’s hard sword case, “I see you still have your katana. I look forward to teaching you a few lessons.”

That made Hiro laugh, “Oh do you really? I seem to remember taking you to task back on Arcturus.” He looked at his friend from the corner of his dark eyes, “Think you’ve learned enough to beat me?”

Harrison just shrugged, “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” He continued to lead Hiro toward his assigned quarters. “You’re being assigned to Fire Team Cobalt. Your chief is named Dianna Ostrander.” He paused slightly, then added. “She’s an unknown quantity. I’d like you to keep an eye on her for me.”

Hiro raised a brow at Harrison. “Oh? Shouldn’t that be something the Captain should know about?”

Harrison gave a little shrug, “He will, after you tell me, I’ll tell him.”

Hiro gave Harrison a speculative look, “Is she going to get me killed?”

Harrison shrugged again, “You know? Somehow, I don’t think so.”

The pair reached the door to Hiro’s quarters. “Here you are. I’ll let you get settled and introduce yourself.” Harrison stuck his hand out again with a smile, “Come find me in the gym when you’re in need of a beating.”

Hiro gripped his old friend’s hand and laughed. “Will do. Good to see you again.”
_____________________________________________________________________________

Brody Caramelli flipped through the pages of a well dog-eared pocket journal, the corner of his lips turned up in amused memory. “Hooo. Samantha.” He actually pressed his nose to the pages of the little book as if the girl’s scent had somehow become impressed upon its pages. The slender Italian lay on his bunk, bare feet where his head should be. He wore only his dark Alliance athletic shorts, showing off his whip-cord physique. “I do believe she did her very best to break me.” He chuckled fondly.

The youngest member of Fire Team Cobalt, Mido Hamaada, looked up from tinkering with a torn apart data pad and rolled his eyes as Brody read off the virtues of his rather extensive record of conquests. “You’re killing me here, Caramelli.” He grinned suddenly. “Caramel. Heh. Ice cream sauce.”

Brody lifted his chin to look at the Private upside down from where he was, “Stuff it, King Tut before you find yourself wrapped in sheets like your ancestors.” He grinned as he said it, so the threat lost all of its meaning.

Mido laughed, he’d already learned that Brody was kidding 90% of the time and he enjoyed the banter. “Your arms aren’t long enou-“ His crack about Brody’s lack of height was interrupted by a well-placed shot with a pillow right to the face. Mido was so startled by the speed of the attack, he barely registered what had just happened until Brody hit him upside the head again. This time with enough force to knock him from his chair.

Mido lay in a tangle of long, awkward arms and legs blinking up at the grinning heavy-weapons specialist. “How…?” He blinked again, “You weigh like 50 pounds!”

Brody just laughed and flexed an impressively ripped bicep. “And every effing fibre is carbon steel, my young urchin.”

Just then, the door hissed open to permit Hiro to enter. Hiro’s dark eyes took in the scene, including the pillow hanging limply in Brody’s left hand. “Wow. Pillow fights?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Are we painting our nails next?

Brody took in the flawless uniform and inwardly groaned. Flipping the pillow back to his bunk, he offered a hand to Mido to help the Private up before addressing Hiro. “No, uh. Just demonstrating the sagacity of never underestimating people, Sergeant.

Hiro simply looked between the pair for a bit longer, letting them stew for a bit. “Care to introduce yourself or should I break out my Ouija board?”

Mido, who was nearly fresh from the Academy recovered quicker than the more seasoned Brody. He snapped to attention. “Private Mido Hamaada. Engineer. Sapper, Sergeant.” His back was straight, his eyes straight forward and he looked terrified.

Brody was a complete contrast to Mido when he introduced himself. He also stood straight, but there was the impression of a coiled spring about him. He met Hiro’s gaze directly and smiled. “Heavy Weapons Specialist Brody Caramelli. Welcome aboard, Sergeant.” He introduced himself as if he expected Hiro to know who he was.

Hiro studied the pair for a moment longer he already liked Brody. The kid was still an unknown. “As you were.” He shook his head and headed for one of the two open bunks. He tossed his duffel onto the mattress, but he placed his sword case there carefully. Turning, he then offered his hand to Brody first. “I’m Sergeant Hiro Kuriyama. I guess I’m your second.” Broday shook his hand firmly, without the crushing grip some Marines are so fond of. “Good to meet you.”

Mido still looked intimidated, but brazenly smiled, “Yeah. Nice to meet you.” His eyes kept straying to the sword case. “You aren’t another one of those crazy blade nuts, are you? What’s wrong with a good old Carnifex?” It seemed to hit him too late what he’d said, because he stammered and tried to back-pedal. “Not that I…” He gulped, “I mean there’s nothing wrong with that. Sergeant.”

Hiro quirked a brow at the young Egyptian and then looked toward Brody, “Is he always like that?”

Brody grinned brilliantly, “Yep. Pretty much.” The heavy weapons Specialist did eye the sword case speculatively. “You know. We got a guy aboard all into blades. Thinks he’s all that….” He started.

“Harrison?” Hiro guessed as he began to unpack his duffel. “Friend of mine.” He grinned. “Word of advice? Straight up sword duel? Bet on me. Anything else? Bet on him. Make yourself a few bucks.”

Brody cast a glance toward the Private for a moment before turning back to his new Sergeant. “You know him?”

Hiro merely nodded, “Yes. I taught Kendo on Arcturus. He’s very, very good.”

Mido joined the conversation at that point. “Wait you are one of those sword nuts.” He accused.

Hiro straightened and pinned the rash Private with a hard stare. After a moment, he bent to open the sword case to reveal a beautifully wrought katana and not the mono-blade so many preferred. Its age was evident as was the deadliness of its design. “This has not seen true combat in hundreds of years. To carry a blade like this into modern warfare is suicidal at best, impossibly ignorant at worst. I practice with it as a form of martial training and meditation.”

Mido stared from the blade to the suddenly unsmiling Sergeant. “I understand.” He murmured wisely. He cleared his throat and meandered back to his disassembled data pad. “So…” He searched for a new topic. “How about our Alpha? Know her too? Dianna something.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Jason Trox Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Commander Benjamin Slatton
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The blast doors to the Marathon’s main armory bay parted as Titus casually made his way inside. He gave a nod to a few of Sentry’s subordinates as they momentarily paused in their duties to offer a salute. “Carry on,” the Captain said. “You know by now I’m no fan of that.” The Armorers gave a quick “Aye-aye” before looking back to tinker with the weapons they had been detailing. As Titus continued his walk through the bay, he found Sentry up and around the next corner, examining a very fine rifle with absolutely no scratches or signs of use. In fact, it was a design that Titus had only seen before on a datapad.

“Is that the new Valkyrie?” Titus asked.

Sentry turned his head to see the Captain through his peripherals. “Yes sir, boss,” he replied. “We picked them up on the Citadel before our early departure. The specs for the design were released only a few months ago, and the first prototypes are already rolling out to the Alliance and C-Sec. The turians even requested some to try out.”

Titus approached the workbench the rifle had been placed on to get a better view. It some ways, the engineering and design was similar to the M-8 Avenger, but where the classic rifle had a large arch on the top of the upper receiver, the Valkryie was flat. The new weapon did keep the redundant barrel below the primary, however, in the case of a stoppage or malfunction. According to the specs that Titus remembered overlooking, the Valkyrie operated with a two-round burst system, rather than the rapid fire of its predecessor. Thus, the new weapon sacrificed suppression for accuracy; but as a trained sharpshooter, Titus never really cared for the spray-and-pray guns. A burst module would do well for him.

The Captain’s eyes glanced over to a piece of equipment lying next to the rifle. It appeared to be a modified lower barrel, but the receiver attachment had been slightly altered and the barrel itself was built to fire a larger caliber.

“What’s that for?” Titus inquired.

A grin spread on Sentry’s face. “That...,” he began, unlatching the lower redundant barrel from the Valkyrie using the disassembly lever on the lower receiver, “is one of my favorite new toys. It’s an attachment for most modern assault rifles; capable of firing a forty millimeter concussion round at any enemy targeted on your visor’s HUD. Powerful little son of a bitch, too. My favorite part is that you can point the rifle well away from your target, pull the trigger, and watch the round correct its course by turning through the air and slamming right into the bad guy’s side.” Sentry finished installing the modified barrel on the Valkyrie and handed the weapon to Titus with the same twisted grin. “It’s called the ‘concussive shot’, Captain. It’s range is as good as your targeting system is.”

“Captain,” Darcy’s voice rang over the intercom, “we’re approaching the Nariph fuel depot. ETA, seven minutes.”

Nodding, Titus handed Sentry back the Valkyrie. “Keep up the excellent work, Valentine,” he commented. “I’d like one of these prepped and ready for my upcoming mission over Thenusi; and throw on one of those concussive shot launchers.”

“You got it, Cap’n.”




“Got a new co-pilot there, Darcy?” Titus asked as he approached the helm, noticing Trox’s son in one of the seats next to the Marathon’s helmsman.

Darcy and Jason glanced at each other, and Titus saw that the young man suddenly became unsure if he should even be sitting in the seat he was in. But Darcy stopped him before the teen jumped up to leave. “No worries, kid; it’s cool. Right Captain?” Darcy turned his chair around to face up to Titus, giving his boss the poorest puppy-dog face he could come up with.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, and replied, “I don’t care; so long as ‘Darcy Junior’ here doesn't crash my ship into the station. Speaking of which, what’s our status. Is our contact already there?”

Darcy spun back around and started tapping his fingers across his many interfaces as he responded, “Not many ships are docked out there, sir. The Pylos Nebula isn't the most popular area in the Terminus; too many ion storms and pirates hiding within the gas clouds. If the Oracle asset we’re meeting up with is there, he isn't showing much sign of it.”

Titus looked out of the helm and saw that they were surrounded in mists of reds, pinks, and violets. He briefly recalled the nebula had been named after some Greek settlement, but the named escaped him. As he stared beyond the view port he saw the fuel station that Darcy was piloting toward sticking out of the wall of a gas cloud. There were three other ships attached to the docks, all frigates, that Titus could make out. Below the station was also a landing bay for Kodiaks and other small vessels. Based on the distance and angle of the Marathon’s approach, Titus could not see inside the bay to recognize any other spacecraft. This Ben character was either on the station by now, or not.

“We’ll have to park her here, Captain,” Darcy said after a moment, taking Titus out of his thoughts. “We’re too big to actually dock to the station, so you’ll need to take one of our Kodiaks.”

The Captain gave a quick nod and turned around to head back into the bridge. “DeMarco,” he shouted across the CIC as he continued to make his way toward the elevators, “call up Harrison and have him meet me down in the shuttle bays.”

“Right away, sir!” Connor replied as he walked over to his station and pulled up a voice channel.

The ride down to the shuttle bays wasn't long. Titus found himself stepping out into the ready areas as soon as he got off the elevator on the fifth deck. To his right was the male ready rooms, and to his left was the female ready rooms. Each side offered an expansive locker room, showers, and latrines. Beyond the changing areas were small armories that Sentry’s troops would operate during missions to issue out-going marines and pilots the firearms and other special equipment they would need before departing the Marathon. Titus skipped past the ready area, however, preferring to take the long corridor that led straight from the elevators to the hangars.

One of Sentry’s armorers met him at the end of the corridor before the blast doors to the first bay. He handed the Captain a single M-3 Predator pistol, which Titus attached to a small magnetic clip on the belt of his Alliance BDU.

Once inside the large hangar bay, Titus made his way over to a UT-47 Kodiak that was nearly finished being prepped by a few servicemen. Staff Commander Terrance Rhodie was overseeing the preparations, standing a few feet away with a datapad in his hand. According to his dossier, Rhodie was the commander of the Marathon’s flight squadrons, which meant that if it flew, he was in charge of it. Titus and Rhodie ran into each other the day before. He was a good soldier, and an experienced Trident pilot who earned the Medal of Valor for his efforts during the Battle of the Citadel.

“Ah, Captain,” Rhodie said as he placed the datapad down on a nearby crate and walked over to greet Titus. The two men exchanged a quick handshake.

“Commander,” the Captain replied. “How are we looking down here?”

“Your Kodiak is almost ready to go, sir. Lieutenant Eleanor Bishop will be your pilot today. She’s one of my best troops.”

A brunette woman in a form-fitting jumpsuit with air wings pinned above her breast walked over to the two men. She stood before them both, with a breather helmet tucked under her left arm, and offered a sharp salute. “Sirs, 1st Lieutenant Bishop reporting for duty.”

“At ease, L-T,” Titus said, returning to the salute in kind. Normally he would brief Bishop that he didn’t care for saluting, but doing so in front of her own commanding officer, Rhodie, would only cause confusion; not to mention it was simply disrespectful in front of other officers that might actually hold the tradition to standard. “Tell me about yourself,” Titus requested.

Eleanor took a more relaxed stance, leaning most of her weight back on one foot in a casual posture. “Well all the details are in my service record, Captain, but I've been commissioned for about three years now. My whole family flew with the Alliance. Some were fighter pilots, others were transport. I’m a mix of both. Like Commander Rhodie, I started out flying Tridents as a second lieutenant. In fact, we flew together during the B-o-C. I was his wingmate. After that, I requested for transfer in order to stay under his command, and I took up learning how to fly the Kodiak. She’s a clunky beast, but you just have to know how to be gentle with her.”

“You flew Tridents, too, then?”

“Yes sir, I did. But only a few times. I was a Hawk interceptor pilot at first, flying out of the SSV Shenyang. I was spaceborn when the Geth overwhelmed my cruiser and destroyed it. Minutes later, I found myself docking on the New York and running into then-Staff Lieutenant Rhodie. They put me in a Trident and we flew off together to keep up the fight.”

“Losing friends on the Shinyang didn’t stop you from continuing the fight?” Titus asked, though with sincerity.

Eleanor looked down and off to the side a bit as she replied, “Not at the time, sir. But when it was all over, that’s when reality hit. The SSV Normandy destroyed that... thing... and the battle was over with. Most returned to their posts, but some of us... had to hitch a ride; hoping he would run into familiar faces. It was tough. Commander Rhodie and I became good friends after that. He helped me cope.” Appearing hopeful that she had not killed the mood, Bishop looked up and said, “Sorry, sir. I don’t mean to be a downer.”

Titus merely shook his head and replied with a smile, “No, no, Lieutenant; you’re fine. It sounds like you’ve had a hell of a career so far. It also sounds like you’re someone I can trust with my life out there.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Eleanor replied with a beaming smile. “I won’t let you down, sir!” She snapped another quick salute before returning to the Kodiak to finish preparations.

Commander Rhodie turned to Titus after she left them and said, “El’s a good kid, and a very promising pilot. I’ve selected her to be your personal shuttle pilot as long as she’s aboard the Marathon; if thats alright with you, sir.”

“I don’t think I could ask for anyone more worthy, Commander,” Jonathan replied.

“Captain!” Titus turned around to see Harrison walked toward him. The man was wearing a brown leather jacket over a dark t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. The bulge of a pistol could be seen underneath the jacket.

“Ready, Lieutenant?” Titus asked.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Just one thing you should know before we meet up with Commander Slatton.”

“Oh?”

Adam was now standing shoulder to shoulder with Titus and he whispered in a low voice. “I’ve never actually met the guy before, but the Operator told me to pass on that he can be a bit... different. Out of uniform, he’s ‘Ben’; in uniform, he’s ‘Commander’. It’s no so much of a split personality as it is his... personality molded by a past. That’s how Miss Carson put it, anyway. Not sure what that means.”

“This guy isn’t schizo, is he?”

Harrison only shrugged his shoulders.




As the UT-47 Kodiak approached the fuel depot, Titus watched as Lieutenant Bishop switch over to a radio frequency connecting her with the station operators. “Teranus station, this is Alliance vessel Mike-Two-Two-Niner, requested docking permission. PAC count is three.”

There was a momentary pause before a turian voice replied over the net, audible to Titus and Harrison in the back. “Mike-Two-Two-Niner; Teranus. Permission granted. Maintain approach speed at forty knots and proceed to lower hangar bay, spot three. How copy?”

“Copy that, Teranus; thanks.” Bishop looked back to her companions after cutting the comm channel and said, “Okay, sirs; we may be neck deep in the Terminus systems, but this fuel station is a green zone owned by the Turian Hierarchy. For diplomatic reasons, they demand that all weapons remain aboard shuttles. I won’t tell you what to do, but I suggest you find a way to hide your toys if you want to deboard with them.”

“Thanks, Bishop,” Titus replied. “Harrison, we’ll comply and leave our stuff here. If we get into trouble, your biotics should be more than enough to make up for our lack of firearms.” Adam nodded in compliance as he and Jonathan detached their pistols from the magnetic clips on their belts, sliding them underneath their seats in the back of the Kodiak.

Eleanor skillfully guided the transport through the mass effect field that protected the hangar bay entrance and landed the craft precisely on the mark for their landing spot. Harrison popped open the load door and the two soldiers stepped out together, immediately taking in their surroundings. The hangar bay of Teranus looked about as large as the one they had just left on the Marathon. Multiple stories high and large enough to accommodate most personal craft that are too small to connect with the docking bridges around the rest of the station.

Titus looked back to Bishop, who was busying herself with post-flight checks in the cockpit, and gave her a quick wave. She nodded back before returning to her checks. The rendezvous with Slatton shouldn't take too long, so the Captain hoped to be back within a half hour; but where exactly they were to be meeting the asset on the depot was entirely unknown to him. On the bright side, the station wasn't very large. Most of the zones were restricted to staff and fuels personnel. Only four decks were available for civilians: the upper and lower hangar bays, the primary lobbies, and the terminals for the docking bridges up top. The first area they would choose to look for him in was obvious; the lobbies on the second deck was where all civilians would eventually migrate to as they waited for their vessels to be refueled and resupplied. It was a small mall, in essence. Gift shops, restaurants, latrines, and other services could be found upstairs.

As the two gentlemen made their way toward the elevators, shouting across the hangar bay floor caught Titus’ attention. He looked over to find two batarians ganging up on a human who must have crossed them in some manner or other. The batarians were about to turn a metal pipe and a utility wrench into bludgeoning weapons; and the scrawny human male was fearfully backing away.

The batarians drew menacingly closer. “Hey!” Titus bellowed, marching over to the group, with a confused Adam in tow. “What’s going on here?”

One of the batarians narrowed his four eyes at Titus before jabbing his pipe toward the human. “Your kin thought it would be wise to walk through our landing zone and dislodge the refueling hose.”

Jonathan looked towards the man, “Is this true?”

“I didn’t mean to!” the human cried in defense, still backing away from the other batarian. “I was trying to head towards the elevators and I tripped over the tube. It dislodged after I fell over it; it’s not like I purposely yanked it out of their ship!”

Titus then looked back toward the batarian that made the accusation. “Shouldn’t you be telling station security about this?”

“Why?” the batarian snapped back. “So the turians can side with the humans for the sake of diplomacy?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Look, if this man is innocent and you beat him with a few tools, you only make yourself look worse. The best thing to do here is just forgive and forget. Depot staff can clean up the mess, the security can give him a warning, and you two can move on.”

The batarian only grew more annoyed. “You humans think you’ve got everything figured out,” he insisted. “Your kind is pathetic.”

“That’s racism talking,” Titus countered. “Look, I’m trying to get you to do the right thing and let this go. The man tripped, and you’re ready to beat him to death over it. Would you do the same thing if he were one of you? Or is it simply because he’s a human like me that you’re grasping a pipe as if its a weapon?”

Both of the batarians took a step back and the one that Titus was talking to looked down for a moment in thought. Eventually, he tossed the pipe down. “Forget it, Brack. It’s not worth it.” His friend turned away from the human and walked back towards their ship, grumbling inaudible curses. The first batarian then looked at Titus and nodded his head to the left, saying, “Fine, human. I suppose you have a point. Just get him out of my site.”

As the batarian turned around to leave, Titus glared at the human with a ‘get lost’ face. The man whispered his thanks and sprinted off towards the elevators. Both the captain and Harrison turned to walk in the same direction, and as they casually made their way across the hangar floor, Adam said in a hushed tone, “And that’s one of the reasons I find it hard to understand why you ever joined Cerberus in the first place.”

Titus’ eyes shifted over to see Adam walking shoulder to shoulder with him. “That’s a long story, Lieutenant,” he responded, words void of emotion. “Another time, perhaps.”

The ride in the elevator to the lobby was sluggish. Teranus was an old station, and the elevator cars actually gave Titus cause for concern as they made their way up in a rickety box no bigger than a closet. Even with the churning of the coil motors above and below them, they could hear the bulkheads creak and moan with somber echoes. When they exited, they did so with a quick step, relieved they were once again in a much safer area of the depot.

Adam was the first spot the asset, recognizing him from the holo pics that Sibyl had forwarded before they left the Marathon. Benjamin Slatton was sitting in a row of waiting chairs, reading one of the public news pads. He seemed very relaxed for such an experienced soldier. Tan cargo pants, casual shoes, and a gray, loose-fitting hoodie thrown over a white t-shirt. Most military members only look so relaxed when they’re on leave or separated from their contract. The haircut was also out of the norm. Sure, Titus and Adam both had hair that was too long to be in regs, but they at least took the effort to make their cuts look good and clean. Benjamin’s dark hair, however, was messy and ragged; like he had just rolled out of bed.

“Excuse me,” Titus said as he approached and stood directly in front of the man, “are you Benjamin Slatton?”

Hazel eyes flicked up from the news pad, thick bags lining them as he regarded the two men for a brief moment. After a thick pause, he nodded slightly, rising from his seat to face Titus eye-to-eye. “That would be me, yes,” He finally said. “You must be Jonathan and Adam.”

“We have a kodiak waiting in the lower bay,” Titus said, extending an open hand to Ben for a firm shake. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I’m ready to go when you are,” Ben replied, accepting the handshake with a firm grasp of his own, “but my friends are just finishing up.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and Titus looked around to see two other humans walking their way. He hadn’t expected Slatton to be accompanied by “friends”, but he maintained his composure and simply nodded. He honestly had no objection to it.

The first of the two seemed to a man of good taste and class. He was wearing a white Devore with a satin gray collared shirt beneath the two-thousand credit jacket. Such an outfit reminded the captain of Janis, but where that bastard’s hair was kept loose behind the shoulders, this man wore his in a bit of a hectic ponytail. His skin was lightly tanned, a surprising trait among those that served aboard ships; and there was a certain kind of aura about him, probably by the way he carried himself, that told everyone in the room he was a bit of a slick player.

Walking slightly behind this man, was a gloomier member of the gang. Dark hair, dark eyes, a dark expression overall gave this woman an almost dangerous allure of intrigue. She was neat, with her hair tied into a bun, and her clothes perfectly ironed and pressed to very seems. Her shoulders were broad and set back, but she did not carry herself with the pride that her companion did. Rather, she walked across the lobby in an almost dominating, though oddly subtle fashion. Titus judged this woman as one of those that spoke softly, but carries a big stick.

“Lieutenant Commander Camarda, reports as ordered, Captain,” the man said, rendering a nonchalant salute.

“Lieutenant Commander Pacheo,” his partner said with a more flat tone, but nonetheless respectful.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Titus replied, addressing all three. “Welcome to the Marathon team.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Dianna Henricksen Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco Character Portrait: Private Mido Hamaada Character Portrait: Sargent Hiro Kuriyama
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The last few weeks had been pleasing to Dianna. Training Fire Team Cobalt and training with them had felt...good. Time spent off duty had been awkward at first, but they had quickly relaxed around her. Brody before the others, naturally. He flirted lightly, but never had to be put down. A point Dianna was grateful for. He might be a talker, but there was an unexpected streak of good sense under the surface of the heavy weapons specialist. Mido had the hardest time of it. She’d pushed him hard during training, making sure he’d stay alive when on a mission. She wasn’t about to lose anyone. Ever. By far the most interesting, at least to her, was her 2nd, Hiro. He was always so calm, so together. He was everything Dianna secretly wished she was. He blended in fluidly, laughed easily, shared what he knew generously. She spent as much time training with him as she could manage.

Finally, Dianna had been called for a briefing. A mission. She was excited and nervous at the same time. On the inside, at least. As the door to the conference room hissed open, Dianna took in the faces of the occupants in less than a heartbeat. Titus and Harrison she had expected. The third man, was a bit of a surprise though. She’d seen him in the mess hall. He didn’t exactly seem the type to be in on a mission briefing. He barely looked anyone in the eye the few times she’d seen him.

Dianna stepped inside the conference room to allow the door to close behind her. She snapped off a crisp salute, despite knowing how Titus disliked it. Call it some perverse sense of what she believed was right. She waited until Titus waved her into a chair before joining the others at the table.

Above the table floated a holographic image of of a research base on a barren dust covered planet that had survived more than it’s fair share of asteroid strikes.

“About thirty minutes ago,” Captain Titus began, “I had our intel guys purge the space around Thenusi with high-intensity scans. They all turned up the same dark spot that Harrison found when he conducted his own scans several weeks ago. I had Darcy fly us in closer, and within minutes, we hit a far range EM barrier and this station became visible in the distance. It appears that Cerberus’ cloaking technology has surpassed that of the Salarians.

“Our mission here is simple: The Operator wants us to hit the station and eliminate whatever Cerberus is cooking up here. Whatever the Illusive Man has on that thing must be of considerable value to him considering the length he’s gone to to hide it in plain sight.”

Lieutenant Harrison was the next to speak up, pointing to the hologram, which turned out to be a haptic display as well. When his index finger tapped on an area of the station, the display zoomed in closer to detail the outer structure of what appeared to be an internal landing bay. “Our VI’s managed to hack into their security network and hold open this one hangar bay. Prophet is keeping the VI’s cycling every few minutes, so Cerberus is unable to counter the hack without an expert programming engineer. This is our way inside. We can take two kodiaks.”

The Captain nodded. “Two fire teams, then. One for each kodiak. Sergeant Ostrander, Cobalt will accompany this mission and split up from my team as soon as we touch base in the hangar. Mine will take the starboard sectors, yours will take port. Eliminate any Cerberus war assets, including hostile soldiers; but remember, their scientists are civilians. Unless one of them threatens your life, don’t engage them; simply force them on the ground and press on.”

Dianna used her Omni tool to tap in relative points and cryptic notes for her own briefing with the team.

“Are we destroying the station?” Lieutenant DeMarco asked.

“Negative,” Titus ordered. “I want this station captured if possible. Any weapons prototypes are to be preserved and their data transferred to our servers. Prophet can oversee the data movement using the Marathon’s FTL comm system and a link-up to your Omni-tools. Once the station is under our control and all hostiles have been eliminated or subdued, we’ll open the rest of the hangars and bring in the Aurora teams to detain the scientists and any other remaining Cerberus personnel.

“Any questions?”

“How do you want us to secure the civilians, Sir?” Dianna asked practically. She wasn’t overly fond of leaving possible hostiles at her team's back.

“You can detain the civilians by cuffing them and conducting a simple frisk of their clothing to ensure they don’t have any weapons. Round them up into groups and have them sit before moving on into other rooms.

“That’s all I have,” the Captain said. “Sergeant, have Cobalt ready within the hour and meet me down in Hangar Bay 1. Dismissed.”

Dianna stood and saluted Titus once more and nodded to Harrison and Connor. “I’ll brief my team immediately. With that, she turned on her heel and headed off to get her team suited up.

Dianna strode into the room shared by Fire Team Cobalt to find Hiro and Mido present. Mido had his Omni Tool in hand as usual while Hiro lounged comfortably on his bunk reading a physical book. Brody was nowhere in sight. Dianna groaned inwardly, she should have known Brody would be off somewhere being ‘social’.

Hiro and Mido looked at her expectantly. “Gear up. We’re taking a Cerebrus base with another fire team under Titus and Harrison. She brought up the information on her Omni tool with a few swift keystrokes. “Sync up and I’ll brief you as soon as Mr. Caramelli gets his pants back on.”

Heading to her locker, Dianna spoke again, Prophet, inform Caramelli that I want him here. Now.”

“Acknowledged” The AI confirmed.

Hiro and Mido rose immediately to don their armor while Dianna squeezed into her squishy. Hiro didn’t ask questions, he had been through this many times. Mido, however, had not. His hands shook slightly as he pulled on his medium armor and cloak. “Two Fire Teams?” Mido prompted, hoping for something other than the stoic silence exhibited by Dianna and Hiro as they readied themselves.

Brody chose just that moment to return to the room with a bright grin on his face. “Hey! Action at last. What’s the mission?” He walked directly to his locker to get dressed.

Dianna looked up when the heavy weapons specialist breezed in. “Looks like you’ve already seen action, Caramelli.” She touched her cheek, “Wipe that lipstick off your face.” That prompted a chuckle from Hiro while Mido tried and failed to hide a smile at Brody’s expense.

Unapologetic, Brody scrubbed his face and lips with his palm and grinned. “Not my fault, Sargeant. Women love me.”

Dianna huffed slightly at the man. She brought up the mission specs on her Omni tool again to allow Caramelli to sync his. “It’s a Cerebrus research base. Prophet’s got the security overridden and is keeping a hangar door open for us. We’re to go in and take out any and all hostiles. The scientists we’re are to bag and cuff unless they get stubborn.” She looked at each of her team, “If they try to be heroes, dissuade them from that course of action. Permanently.” Hiro and Brody merely nodded. Mido looked a little shaken.

“Civilians, Ma’am?” He asked.

Hiro took the question, “If they’re shooting at you, Private. You shoot them instead. Simple.” His tone was stern. “If some old man smelling of alcohol rub kills me because you hesitated, I will come back and haunt you to the end of your days. Clear?”

Mido blinked softly, looking from Dianna to Hiro and back again, “Yeah. Sure…” Anything else he’d thought to add to the conversation died on his lips.

To take over the Private’s train of thought, Dianna gave assignments, “We’re going to take two separate kodiaks in. The Captain and his team will take the starboard side of the hangar and base, we take port. Obviously, they’ll set up a perimeter and we can expect some heavy resistance in the hangar itself.” She looked at Brody who had wasted no time getting into his heavy armor and was checking it for fit and movement. “Caramelli, you’ll need to clear a path. Hiro and I will take out stragglers.” She turned her pale gray eyes toward Mido, “You’ll need to override any security locks or blow the doors. Expect turrets as well. We aren’t sure if how weaponized the place is. We’ll assume the worst.”

Brody laughed, “Maybe they’ll bake us a cake.”

After a trip to the armory to pick up their weapons, Fire Team Cobalt arrived in the Hangar bay with 15 minutes to spare. As her team entered, Dianna noted that the pilots and crew were already going over the kodiaks taking care of their pre-flight checks.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco Character Portrait: Captain Azuric Villayn Character Portrait: The Illusive Man
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“That’s it, Bishop,” Titus said with one hand bracing the headrest of his pilot’s seat as she guided the kodiak in closer to the Cerberus station above Thenusi. “Nice and easy.”

The heavy footsteps of Villayn approached from behind and Titus glanced at the turian through his peripherals. “Cerberus must have been put a small fortune into the cloaking tech that was hiding this station,” Azuric commented. “Imagine how deadly their vessels could be if they found a way to apply it to moving objects.”

Titus reached over his shoulder to grab the Valkyrie rifle that Sentry had prepped for him before they left, double checking that the concussive shot launcher was secured to below the primary barrel. “I’m not sure I want to even think about that. The Vindicator was deadly enough with a stealth drive and thanix cannon.” A few memories of his former ship flashed by in the back of his mind, but the Captain suppressed them as quickly as they had come. He was about to start a firefight in enemy territory; he last thing he needed to do was lose focus and reminisce in the past.

Looking at the radar, Jonathan noted that Cobalt’s kodiak was riding along next to them as they should be. Thankfully, the station wasn’t armed with any GARDIAN turrets, making their approach a piece of cake. But what was unsettling was that, along with the lack of automated defenses, there wasn’t a single Cerberus vessel in the system left to guard the station. The only kind of defense they had was the cloak. Something didn’t sit right with Titus about all of this, and he knew that Adam and Azuric had the same feelings, as both were oddly quiet and their eyes were scanning every reading from the computers and scanners, and eying the station with intensity as Lieutenant Bishop drew closer.

“ETA, thirty seconds,” Bishop announced.

Titus took her queue and his team gathered with him at the loading door on the kodiak’s port side, readying their weapons. Villayn had a Viper sniper rifle attached to the magnetic clip on his back, with a Scimitar shotgun in hand; Harrison was equipped with an M-3 Predator in hand, and his katana sheathed over his shoulder.

“Harrison,” Titus said, gaining the man’s attention.

“Sir?”

“Throw up a barrier in front of us as soon as we touch down. I don’t want to take a hail of fire as we make our way out of this fatal funnel.”

“You got it, boss.”

A fatal funnel was military slang for a doorway that could mean certain death upon entering or exiting. It was all a camping soldier would need to watch if it was the only route available for his enemy to pass through. In this case, they would be exiting a tin can through one door, entering an entire landing bay with an unknown layout and an unknown number of targets. Harrison’s biotics would be of use to stop the first barrage of incoming fire in case Cerberus had set up an ambush. And if they were smart, such an ambush was already waiting for them.

“Captain,” Bishop called back from the cockpit, “we’re inside the hangar! I’ll maintain hover at five feet. Prepare to jump in five... four... three... two...” One second later, the hatch popped and the door raised open, allowing the team of three to leap forward onto the ground. Harrison jumped the furthest, taking a diving roll as soon as he landed on the cold surface of the bay. As soon as he stopped in a kneeling position, he threw out his arms and a violet dome of concentrated biotic energy large enough to cover himself, Titus, and Villayn materialized.

Azuric and Jonathan scanned their sectors for several seconds, waiting for a Cerberus marine to take a shot; but nothing came. No gunfire, no shouting. Something was definitely off. Titus looked over to Dianna’s team as they remained in cover behind several cargo crates and small storage containers. Ostrander’s eyes looked to his own, waiting for any orders.

“No soldiers, no turrets.” Villayn said. “Where’s the welcoming committee?”

With a grunt Titus stood up and laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder, letting him know that he could take down the barrier. As Harrison complied, Jonathan still kept his gun up, waiting to see if some hiding Cerberus soldiers would take the bait. But when silence still dominated the hangar, he began to believe that they weren’t in any immediate danger.

“Cobalt!” Titus called out across the bay to Ostrander’s team. “Stick with the plan; take port-side! We’ll take starboard! Keep DeMarco informed every two mike!” He glanced to Villayn and Adam next and said, “Let’s move; keep your guard up.”

As the teams split up, moving towards different exits to the hangar, Titus heard the two kodiaks leaving through the atmospheric mass effect field that protected the bay’s docking entrance. Once the mission was complete, they would return for extraction.

The first door they came upon, just passed the emergency airlock that led out of the hangar and into the rest of the station, had its access interfaced colored orange. It was a standard lock that could be easily bypassed with any military-grade Omni-tool. Adam approached and started to tap away at his Omni-tool’s programs, but Jonathan stopped him. “No, I got it. The door is probably sealed using Cerberus protocols. Luckily, I’ve still got some of them memorized.” Sure enough, the door’s lock gave way within seconds of Titus’ bypassing hack and his team was barreling through with weapons ready.

A long, white and chrome corridor stretched out in front of them. It had seemed like forever since Titus had been aboard anything of Cerberus design. The utilitarian feel of the station seemed like a memory. It had only been two months, but being back now was like a dream.

“Eyes sharp,” he whispered as they passed by several doors on either side of them. As he glanced through the windows built into the walls on each side of the corridor, he saw that they were passing by a series of small laboratories and offices. All of them were empty, but there was signs of recent use. Beakers had been filled with chemicals and liquids, haptic computer terminals were online and running programs, and a radio was even playing a mix of music in one of the offices.

The corridor eventually ended at the open entrance to a larger lab, where multiple counters had been cluttered with experiments, terminals, and stacks of papers. As Titus glanced around, he determined that this room had been used for some kind of bio-chemical testing, as there were multiple samples of organ tissues kept in large, fluid-filled containers, and beakers filled with the same kind of dark, purple liquid mixed with a mesh of what appeared to be hundreds or thousands of tiny synthetic particles.

“What is all of this stuff?” Azuric asked, examining one of the liquid containers.

“Whatever it is, I wouldn’t touch it. Cerberus likes to experiment with biological and chemical weaponry.”

“Hey,” Harrison said, getting his two comrades to look over in his direction. “Coffee’s hot.” He was pointing to a half-full glass pot of coffee in the corner of the lab. The pot was sitting on top of a burner plate, and Titus could make out a tiny trickle of steam rising into the air.

“So we know that this place hasn’t been abandoned for long,” Titus concluded. “But where the heck is everyone?”

"I can answer that," Connor DeMarco's voice sounded off in their headsets. "Cobalt Team just stumbled their way into a lobby of some kind. It appears all of the station's staff had moved themselves there to stay out of our way. The marines turned over their weapons and ammo without a fight. They were never equipped to defend against an assault."

"Then what were they equipped for?" Harrison asked.

"They won't say," Connor answered.

The team pressed on, moving out of the lab and into another corridor that wrapped around a few corners and bulkheads. Titus finally stopped outside of an office, where the door had been left open and all of the lights on. As Villayn and Harrison posted up outside, keeping their weapons trained down each end of the corridor, Titus entered the office and walked around the desk, picking up a datapad that had been left on. He noticed a that the pad’s owner had left a recent voice memo and out of curiosity, his finger tapped the play command. A female’s voice began playing.

”The subject seems to be responding well to the injection treatment and initial results are promising. The nanites are enhancing available muscle tissue, while also constructing synthetic components both inside and outside of the body. Furthermore, the changes seem to have given the subject biotic abilities; a completely unexpected result as no element zero was used during the infusion.

I have only one concern about this project though... As the results of the experiment continue to manifest, I’ve noticed increased intelligence and awareness in the subject, as well as hostility. Carver was injured the other day while trying to obtain a tissue sample from the subject’s forearm. In response, I’ve ordered for increased security in and around Epsilon Sector. No one gets in without my explicit authorization.

...

...I’ve never seen anything like this before.”


There was a slight shuffle at the end of the recording as the anonymous Cerberus scientist proceeded to end her recording. Titus downloaded the voice memo to his Omni-tool before returning the datapad to the desk. After exiting the office, he re-equipped his Valkyrie and gathered Adam and Azuric to continue with him on down the corridor.

“We’re heading to Epsilon Sector,” he said as they walked with a quickened pace. “I want to know what the hell is down there.”

After another minute of wandering empty corridors and inspecting vacant offices and quiet labs, they finally approached upon a large blast door that read “EPSILON” in bold, painted lettering across the top of the door’s archway. The lock interface was colored red, signifying that the area beyond was on total lock-down. Hacking through the door would take a long while, but Titus wasn’t discouraged in the slightest. He knelt down and instantly brought up his Omni-tool’s hacking program for a second time.

“Keep watch, you two,” he ordered as he tapped away at the program. Just as he thought, however, that it would be a good minute before he made any progress, the lock interface flashed to green and the blast doors hissed. Titus immediately jumped back, slightly surprised, and drew his Valkyrie over his shoulder. Adam and Azuric also whirled around with weapons poised as the doors parted to reveal a dark and gloomy laboratory beyond the threshold.

The team entered slowly after receiving no contact, scanning every which way for any hiding hostiles. Dark shadows covered every corner and bulkhead, and the white, shining atmosphere of the previous sections they had traveled through seemed to be completely absent from this new sector, with black paneling and carbon steel. Several tanks had been aligned on either side of the room, all filled with a blue liquid. They seemed to be holding vats for biological specimens; or so Titus assumed as they quietly moved on through the lab.

Eventually, the team rounded a corner, where they stopped to see something suspended in the center of a large, open chamber, lit up by a series of spotlights above. Sturdy chains held an alien-humanoid in place, and multiple tubes, both liquid-carrying and electrical of some kind, were attached to its body. The pale blue skin, mixed with cybernetics and tubes protruding in and out of the body, was that was needed for Titus to recognize a husk when he saw one. But when he examined the former human in more detail, his eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open.

“What... the... fuck? Keown?!” Titus dropped the Valkyrie, letting it dangle by his side. Disbelief held the captain’s emotions hostage as his eyes stared at his friend’s body. Or perhaps it wasn’t his friend anymore. Keown’s corpse had turned into a mechanical android, bearing hardly any tissue and completely mangled by cybernetics and other synthetic hardware. He looked exactly one of the husks they had fought on Lucr’n. The only way Titus was able to recognize his friend was by the few distinct features left on his face. Its face.

Villayn stepped forward and examined the body up close when Titus refused to bring himself one inch closer. Azuric turned back after a moment and said, “We turians never forget a face. It comes naturally I suppose when one’s race isn’t as diverse as yours. This is definitely your friend; no doubt about it.”

“What the hell happened to him?” Adam asked.

Titus turned his head slightly in Adam’s direction, gazing at the young soldier through his peripherals. His response was a solemn one. “He made the ultimate sacrifice so others might live. In the end... he became a puppet for the Reapers.”

There was a ping off to the side and the three whirled around in the sound’s direction with guns poised. Titus instantly recognized the flat circular projection pad of a QEC. The blue lights around the inner edge of the pad grew brighter as the machine hummed to life. A second later, the Illusive Man’s bodily projection materialized before the three of them, standing tall with broad shoulders and his habitual cigarette in his left hand.

“Quite the contrary, Captain,” the Man said. “The man you knew is more than a puppet; or, rather, will be.”

With anger in his voice, Titus barked, “You told me Cerberus would take care of him. You gave me your word, and I trusted you!”

Calm, as always, the Illusive Man rebounded the question with one of his own. “In the same way I trusted you?

“Let’s not fool ourselves, here,” Titus shot back, pointing an accusing finger at his former employer. “You’re the one that ordered Janus to shoot me in the back. You betrayed my team and I first. And from the looks of things here, you never intended to take care of Erik. You turned him into another science project. This whole time, you could have been finding a way to reverse indoctrination, but look at this!

The Illusive Man turned his cold eyes toward the hanging husk that was once Erik Keown. “I am looking, Titus. And what I see is the potential for humanity to reach the apex of our evolution.”

John couldn’t believe what he just heard and shook his head, exclaiming, “You’re delusional!”

“Hardly. I may be ambitious, Captain; but I know what my goals are and how to achieve them. I doubt the same can be said of you. You were with the Alliance once before, and then you came to me, and now you’re back there again. You let your emotions lead you, not your logic. And that’s a flaw I aim to perfect... by using the same means of control the Reapers use over these ‘husks’ that the rest of the galaxy even refuses to acknowledge.”

“And you question whose side I’m on?” Titus demanded. “Listen to yourself! You claim Cerberus’ goal is to protect humanity, but you’re willing to expose them to Reaper technology. Why not just hand them over to the Collectors? Why even bother stopping them, or giving Omni Cell a purpose? You think our species, or the rest of the galaxy for that matter, will allow you to make a decision like that for them? Controlling evolution like that? Or is evolution really your plan?”

The Illusive Man frowned and shook his head in apparent disappointment. “You were always temperamental, Titus,” he finally said. “Tell me: since you’re so opposed to the idea of controlling the fates of others; how do you justify dropping that Ardat-Yakshi off of the building on Illium? What was her name again?”

“Mirian...,” Titus muttered with a clamped jaw. “She blew a child over the edge of that building without a care in the world.”

“But even after EDI assured you that Operative Buchan had saved the boy; you chose to let go. You chose her fate, in light of the fact that Braden was alive.”

“That’s not the poi-”

“And then there’s Braden, himself. A young boy that you let tag along on your ship. You ordered armor that fit his size. You gave him a gun and allowed Sentry to instruct him on how to use firearms. You turned him into a child soldier and took away the peaceful future he could have had.”

“No!” Titus snapped. “You wanted recon drones around that facility on Eden Prime. You wanted to use those kids for yourself once their biotics were advanced enough. You would have turned them into mindless weapons!”

“And what was the young Mr. Reynolds to you, Titus? Was he not a weapon in the end? Another asset to be used for the mission?”

There was another pause between the two men. Titus was fuming behind his visor, but the Illusive Man remained perfectly calm. He took a long drag of his cigarette; the smoke floating in the air around him until it disappeared from the projection. Finally, the Illusive Man said, “You and I are so much alike. We both seek to control the situation around us, whatever it may be. But where you rely on your convictions, allowing emotions to overcome your logic; I rely on reason and intuition, paving the way for cunning innovation. But we are both men of ruthless ambition who will stop at nothing to get what we want. There’s no denying that.”

Titus’ lips twisted into a smirk. “Then you’d best be ready. Because what I want right now... is to see you stopped.”

“I expected as much,” the Man responded. “That’s why I’ve already begun purging every Oracle asset we’ve uncovered in the Daedalus system. I’m sure Commanders Horn and Buchan will be happy to see you again.”

“Then I’ll stop them first,” Titus replied with confidence.

“If you choose to go after Jason and Vala,” the Man interjected, “I’m afraid Adam Harrison will lose a dear friend of his.”

“Excuse me?!” Adam snapped as he hurried over the Illusive Man’s projection. “What is that supposed to mean?”

A smile spread across the Illusive Man’s lips. “You should ask your illustrious Captain Titus about my best assassin, Kai Leng. I’ve sent him and Commander Ross to retrieve some valuable data collected from the dragons teeth that plagued the Citadel during Sovereign’s invasion a year prior. I believe a certain Lieutenant Kyle is in charge of overseeing the security of that research, and the well-being of the Oracle scientists that have extracted and are analyzing the data.”

Both Titus and Harrison were clenching their fists in complete anger.

“It appears you have a choice to make, Titus,” the Man went on. “Rush to save the girl and the data, or rush to save Miss Carson’s precious assets. I’m afraid you won’t be able to accomplish both.” The Illusive Man paused to take quick drag of his cigarette. “It had been a pleasure working with you, Jonathan Titus. Now,” he paused to raise a finger and say, “stay out of my wa-”

Before his former boss could finish the threat, the captain shot the QEC pad with a burst from his Valkyrie, hastily nullifying the projection. He lowered the rifle and turned to look at Adam and Villayn with a smile behind his visor. “I thought I’d be the one to hang up this time.”

Without allowing a second of a chance for another comment to be made, there was a sudden and terrifying shriek that pierced the cold air of the lab. All three turned on heel and raised their guns at Erik’s husk, which was now fully awake and struggling to break free of the chain and tubes that suspended him from the ceiling above.

"It's aliiiive!" Adam yelled in an almost dramatic fashion, flaring up a biotic barrier around his armor.

"Orders, Captain?!" Villayn demanded.

Titus grunted as he thought of what to do. His rational mind told him that the thing he was looking at was another of a hundred Reaper-controlled husks. But on the other hand, he was looking at what was left of his friend. That was Erik's face; Erik's body. No! he told himself. That's not Erik Keown anymore! That's the enemy!

"Put him out of his misery!" he ordered.

Adam and Azuric, without hesitation, emptied an entire thermal clip into the hanging corpse. When the mangled body had finally stopped moving and screeching, Titus thought it was over with. But he was dead wrong. A second later, the husk woke up a second, much to their surprise, and a shock wave of dark energy burst outward from its body, obliterating its restraints and sending all three to their backs. When Titus and his team had recovered to their feet, the husk was loose and rapidly crawling towards them on the floor at an incredible speed. Within the blink of an eye, it was already leaping through the air at Villayn, who raised his talons to fend it off. The husk grabbed onto the turian and fiercely started tried to swipe and scratch at him.

"Aarrrgghh!" Azuric yelled.

"Hang on!" Adam cried as he unsheathed his katana with one hand and unleashed a biotic throw with his other, knocking the husk clean off of Villayn. Erik's body was sent crashing into one of the containment vats, spilling liquid all over the floor. The gush of plasma-like fluid knocked Titus' dropped Valkyrie several feet away.

Harrison sprinted towards the husk at it stammered to recover from his throw, katana ready to strike. But the husk acted too fast once again, raising its bony hand and forcing Adam into the air with its own biotic abilities. The lieutenant struggled to break free, dropping his blade to the floor as he tried to fight an invisible force. With a flick of the wrist, the husk sent Adam barreling through the air, and crashing him into a bulk head.

"Son of a bitch!" Titus yelled as he sprinted for his rifle. The husk now raced after him, screeching as he dashed across the floor. Jonathan felt the adrenaline surge through his body, and he knew that he was panicking. He could hardly recall the last time he had been this afraid. That was something he also didn't understand: he had been in touch situations many times before, and had handled the unknown with composure and ease. He had faced the countless number of husks on Lucr'n. This shouldn't be any different. Was it the fact that it was Keown that he was having to face that made him so hesitant and afraid?

His hand felt the body of the Valkyrie rifle before his mind could even finish processing its image. Finally drawn back to the situation unfolding around him, Titus grabbed the grip of the weapon and whirled around, falling back on his buttocks as the husk leaped at hip through the air. Without wasting another second to hesitate, Titus tapped a tiny button on the lower receiver of the weapon and pulled the trigger, unleashing a chaotic burst from the bottom barrel. The twenty millimeter slug that shot forward from the Valkyrie immediately locked onto its target and slammed into the husk's face. Upon impact, the cranium shattered and the body violently twisted backward, flying to the ground in a mangled heap.

It took a moment for everything to finish processing. Titus slowly looked around the room; from Villayn, to Adam, to the Keown's corrupted and destroyed body. His men were recovering and shaking off the husk's violent attacks; but Jonathan could only sit where he was, holding himself up ever so slightly from lying completely on the wet floor. His hands still braced the rifle, finger still pressed back at the trigger.

"Captain?" Azuric asked. "Titus!"

Jonathan's mind was yanked back to reality and he shook his head. "Son of a bitch!"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Dianna Henricksen Character Portrait: Commander Benjamin Slatton
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"Captain?" Azuric asked. "Titus!"

Jonathan's mind was yanked back to reality and he shook his head. "Son of a bitch!" The Captain forced himself to stand up with the help of the sturdy Valkryie and took a second to regain his balance. He felt physically sick at the sight of Erik’s ugly, mangled corpse lying on the floor several feet away from him. When memories of the former comrade in arms started to cloud his thoughts again, he quickly averted his eyes to Adam, who was being helped to his feet by Azuric.

“You injured?”

“Nah,” he said, only to grunt and grasp at his side. “Well, argh... not bad anyway.” Harrison took a few breaths, filling his lungs with steady gasps of fresh air. “I wasn’t expecting biotics,” he managed to say. “Since when are husks-?”

“That was no ordinary husk,” Azuric cut him off. “Remember, this is Cerberus we’re dealing with. They have ways of making the impossible quite possible.”

There was crackle in Titus’ earpeace before Ostrander’s voice boomed through. “Captain; this is Cobalt Alpha. Do you read me?

The stress in her voice made the Captain realize that she was probably trying to contact them during the fight. Either Eri- or the husk’s, Titus reminded himself, phenomenal biotics caused an interference in the comm channel, or the adrenaline simply wouldn’t allow himself to hear anything else but the screaming and gunfire.

“Go ahead, Cobalt Alpha,” he said calmly.

“Do you require assistance. sir?”

Titus looked around the room for any other experiments that might jump out of the bulkheads at them. When he was sure the area was secure and they were safe again, he replied, “That’s a negative. We’ve wrapped up here. What’s your status?”

“Multiple civvies and sec-po detained, Captain. Our side’s clear.”

“Copy that. Escort the detainees back to the hangar bay. Break. Marathon Alpha.”

Connor’s voice chimed in with a response. “Go, sir.”

“Dispatch Sierra Zero-Zero-Two-and-Four; have same RV Cobalt and take over detainee ops. Have Sierra Zero-Zero-One sweep starboard and Three sweep port.”

“Passing directives now, Captain.”

With orders given and the comm channel now clear, Titus looked over to his teammates, awaiting directives themselves. The Captain swung his Valkryie over his shoulder and let the rifle collapse in on itself and attach to the magnetic clips on the back of his armor before saying, “Come on, you two. We’ve got a nasty decision to make.”




The war room on the command deck was full. A single, large, circular chamber wrapped in tactical displays, real-time information and data feeds, support terminals, combat information analysts, and a host of other support personnel made up the life and blood of the room. Sensitive information constantly cycled through every haptic interface, scanned by busy Oracle intelligence operatives, and then carefully digested by both Oracle and Aurora brass. Anything that needed a final say would go straight to the captain, or, if he was unavailable, to Commander Taylor.

In the center of chamber was a circular war table, where a large blue haptic interface covered the top. A layout of the Daedalus system had been brought up, covering the entire display with critical information and details about every planet, moon, and station. Multiple individuals were huddled around the display, including Titus, Taylor, DeMarco and Harrison. Other faces included the Marathon’s lead intelligence analyst, Staff Lieutenant Rene Dike; Commander Rhodie, the squadron commander; and Major Rhonda Thomas, the Sierra fire teams commander.

“This is the latest intel we have on Daedalus,” Lieutenant Dike announced in a calm manner. The averaged height woman was wearing her Alliance BDUs. The Captain noticed that she had kept the garments below the vest tightly pressed and looking sharp, with the hint of a lightly applied starch by the nearly perfect creases. There was no point to wearing them, given her MOS as an intelligence analyst, but he knew that most pencil pushers in the military did this because it was as close as they could get to living on the edge. He even wondered if this whole situation was possibly the first of its calibre for her.

“We know there are least two Cerberus signatures in the system,” she continued. “Only one, however, a cruiser-class, is showing up on scans.”

“We know this for sure?” Rhodie inquired.

“Yes, sir. If you’ll see here,” Dike pointed to where evident conflict was taking place by the Alliance-tagged distress beacons in one area of the system, “we’ve got multiple distress signals originating from this area, put out at the exact same time as these...” Her finger moved to a planet on the opposite side of the system’s sun where more distress beacons were flashing. Nearby those same beacons was the Cerberus cruiser, designated by a light-gray four-arrow reticule. “Considering we have no available scanning data of what’s happening on the opposite end of the system from the cruiser, we can make a safe assumption that Cerberus has a stealth class over in that area.

Commander Taylor, who stood opposite from Titus across the war table, instantly raised her head with a serious are-you-thinking-what-I’m-thinking? look. The Captain nodded his head. “The Vindicator.”

“Pardon, sir?” Dike asked.

Titus explained, “The Cerberus frigate I commanded before defecting to Oracle. When I spoke with the Illusive Man, he said Commander Buchan.” He now spoke directly to Taylor. “We left her on Omega... with the Vindicator.”

“I see,” Rhodie commented. “Then at least we won’t be flying in there totally blind.”

“Flying in?” Harrison spoke up, eyes showing how much he didn’t approve of the idea at all. He then turned to Titus, “Sir, what about stopping the Illusive Man from getting his hands on that research data? What about Lieutenant Kyle? Oracle has invested millions into that lab, and there are hundreds of innocents working there are now in harms way. The assets we have in Daedalus knew the risks when they signed their contract with Oracle. That Reaper data is a hundred times more important.”

“So you’re suggesting we sacrifice an entire system to save some science experiment?” Major Thomas argued. “As far as the majority of the galaxy is concerned, the Reapers are a myth. That ‘data’ is likely a bunch of a false positives only playing with the imagination of a few hopeful eggheads.”

“Easy, Major,” Commander Taylor calmly intervened. “Both targets are of great strategic importance. Whether or not they’re eggheads or spooks, they’re people... and they’re people we need alive.” When the room had quieted, Taylor looked to Harrison. “Lieutenant, you said earlier that there’s an N7 at that research station?”

“Affirmative, ma’am,” Adam said, doing his best to remain calm, even though it was evident he knew what Serena was about to suggest. “Lieutenant Amanda Kyle. We graduated from the Villa together. She’s in the same Oracle attachment that I’m in.”

Commander Taylor looked over to Titus, as did everyone else around the table, save for Adam, who was staring at the display over the war table with a blank expression.

“If you ask me,” a random voice called out by surprise, forcing all in the room to turn their heads and see Benjamin Slatton leaning against a terminal in the shadows, “you’ll want to go for the system.”

“How long have you been there?” Taylor asked with a quirked brow.

With a bit of a smirk, the Oracle commander shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself away from the terminal, casually walking over to the war table and placing himself between Rhodie and Thomas - both of whom gave him a quizzical stare of bewilderment.

“It’s an easier decision than you might think, Titus,” he said. “You can’t sacrifice a whole system simply to save data that can be rediscovered with time.”

This was not easy. In war, tough calls can’t always be avoided. The facts and the costs had been laid out in front of him, and it was now up to him as the Marathon’s captain to decide which target they would go after. Daedalus was under attack, and if they delayed any longer, the entire system could be lost. Countless more innocents... Alliance, Oracle, Aurora, and non-combatants could be killed. On the other hand, if they go after Daedalus, they would be giving up valuable Reaper data; practically handing it over to the Illusive Man on a silver platter, only advancing Cerberus’ knowledge and, if the fight against Keown’s husk had anything to prove, their arsenal of biological weaponry.

But Titus has seen the trends of science from the combat boots of both uniforms. He’s seen what Cerberus is capable of, and now he’s seeing what Oracle and the Alliance are capable of. If Cerberus gains a new technology, or a better weapon... the Alliance will find a way to counter it. The system comes first.

“Commander Rhodie,” Titus said, staring intently at the display over the war table.

The commanding office of the Marathon’s fighter and interceptor squadrons snapped to attention and held a sharp salute. “Sir.”

“Ready your pilots.”

“Aye-Aye, Captain!” Rhodie replied, turning on heel to depart the war room.

“Major Thomas.”

“Sir,” the fire team commander replied with equal ferocity and discipline.

“Make sure your Sierra teams get some chow and resupply. They’ll be heading back out.”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

“Darcy!”

The helmsman had most likely been eavesdropping on the entire meeting as his reply was instantaneous. “Daedalus, sir?”

“Do it.”

“Setting course.”

“Listen up,” Titus spoke aloud to the others remaining around the table. “I don’t like it when my enemy forces me to make a decision like this. When we enter that system, we will give them no quarter.” His words were clear and precise. Their mission had been given to them. It was time to respond. “Dismissed.”




The captain’s eyes looked into themselves through their reflection in the glass. As the Marathon travelled at FTL speeds to the nearest mass relay, Titus watched the shifting blue and violet lights wrap around the exterior of his ship through the window in his cabin. Such a display of magnificence deserved an orchestra of sounds, he thought; or a symphony. But in the abyss of silence around him, his mind was left to imagine the strings, the brass, and the woods. Eventually, though, it just became too much, and too difficult to bear.

Silence. He was surrounded by it. On the inside, he knew he was defeated, but on the outside he maintained that same all-is-well attitude. Only those close to him would be able to tell by the look in his eyes that all was indeed not well. For years now, he had tried to hold onto a strict set of core beliefs; values that he had taught himself a very long time ago as a marine in the trenches. Always do good. Always be just. They were the values he reminded himself of during the tough calls.

The Illusive Man had called him to the carpet. He had shown Titus just how arrogant he had become, and just how vulnerable he actually was. He hated his former employer, but he hated himself just as much. The Illusive Man was right. He had been a fool to think he was morally above everyone else. Some moral code I made, he thought.

A knock at his door woke him from his thoughts and Titus yelled, “It’s open!” The door opened with a smooth slide and hiss, revealing the young Braden to be standing on the other side of the threshold. “Braden?” Titus said. “Is something wrong?”

“I was going to ask you that,” the teenager replied. Titus eyed him for a moment, observing how much the kid had changed over the last several months; not just physically, but mentally. He had grown stronger, more intelligent.

“Oh?” Titus asked, trying his best to downplay his obviously depressed mood.

Braden walked into further into the room, allowing the door to close behind him. With all the casual, nonchalant manner of an adolescent male, Reynolds moved over the small two-seater sofa in the quarters and collapsed onto the cushion, leaning back and placing an arm lazily over the armrest. “Yup,” he finally said.

If I’m about to be counseled by a kid..., Titus put a stop to the thought before it finished. Maybe that’s exactly what he needed. No uniforms, no commanders, no intelligence analysts; but the simple mind of a child. True, Braden was far from being a child now, but he still had an optimistic outlook on life; and that optimism had only evolved into something greater ever since coming aboard Titus’ team and facing down his past. There were still a few shadows of the past haunting him, Titus was sure of that; but if anyone on the Marathon had a clear mind right now, it was him.

“Tell me, Braden,” Titus began, “and be honest... Have I failed?”

Braden raised an inquisitive brow. “What do you mean?”

Titus looked back out of the window, returning his eyes to the blue shifts of the FTL travel. When he spoke, his voice was distant, but loud enough for the young man to hear. “I thought I could be the moral center of this crew. But the Illusive Man showed me that I’m clearly not.” He turned back to Braden and with a saddened expression and defeated eyes, he said, “I tried to protect you.”

There was a long silence between the two of them. Titus found himself unable to look at the kid any longer and let his eyes fall to the floor of his cabin. He had never felt more ashamed about anything. For a soldier to admit defeat with such remorse was... unbecoming.

“Yeah,” Braden finally spoke. “You did.” Titus was sure he would have felt some kind of pain in his heart in response if there was any feeling left in him at all; but when he was sure that Braden’s answer was final, the boy said, “You failed... when you joined Cerberus.”

Somehow intrigued by the young man’s response, Titus’ eyes glanced back up to him. “And so did I,” he continued, “when I joined you. You said you wanted me to come with you, and gave me the choice. I chose. I decided to tag along with terrorists. I knew who you guys were. A team of people that all failed when they made the same choice I made.”

The boy stood up from the sofa and said, “It’s what we do after we fail that counts.”

As if by magic, Titus’ spirit was instantly lifted and he felt himself smiling. He turned around to fully face Braden and leaned back against the window. He crossed his arms and said, “Huh... How did you become so damn brilliant?”

With a quirky smile and shrug of his shoulders, the teen replied, “Liz likes to drown me in psychoanalytic mumbo-jumbo from time-to-time. I think it’s starting to rub off on me.”

The two shared a laugh and Titus said, “Well keep her close, Braden. You’ve found yourself a very intelligent young lady.”

“Yeah...,” Braden said with a blush of red on his above his cheeks, “speaking of Liz; you think you can give me a bit of advice?” Titus’ eyes nearly popped out of his head and when Braden realized how that sounded, he ferociously shook his hands and exclaimed, “Not about that!

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Petr Orlav Character Portrait: Commander Benjamin Slatton
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It had taken considerable time and effort to secure the room Prophet had deemed the “quietest” and a final favour from the captain to convince its tenant to trade. Panting quietly on sweat soaked sheets, Benjamin found himself questioning it’s actual worth. The silence was better for him, arguably, but when the difference was a few minutes, one had to wonder. An idle glance told him he’d managed a few hours so perhaps the value was there. Shedding his soaked shirt, the Oracle commander rose from bed and stepped into the modest ‘living’ room that doubled as his work space.

With a casual flick of his eyes, he waved gently to the sole other occupant of the chamber. Perched demurely on the small sofa along the far wall, Pacheo glanced to him between black bangs illuminated in the gentle glow of her E-reader. Neither seemed phased by the other’s presence as he pulled a wrinkled white shirt from a small mound of laundry beside his desk. Giving it a quick glance to ensure it was ‘clean’, he tugged it over his head as he turned his attention fully to his colleague. “Was I loud?” He asked innocently, smiling lightly at the subtle shake of her head. “Any embarrassing confessions?”

“You called for her.” The softness of her voice was hard to catch, but Ben had experience on his side. His smile softened into a melancholic upturn, hazel eyes drifting to the small viewport beside the seat. “Thinking about her?”

“A little, yeah.” Sinking into his seat, the commander lifted his legs onto his desk and leaned back with a light groan. “Can‘t help it some days, you know?” Rubbing a finger under his nose, Ben’s eyes shifted back to her. “How’s the book? That author put out the new book yet?” She frowned tightly, eyes instantly half-lidded in annoyance as he chuckled. “That’s a no. I thought a salarian would write faster.”

“A good novel can’t be rushed.”

“Of course. What’re you reading now, then?”

She looked back down to the E-reader. “Mystery.”

“Sounds promising.” They fell into silence, although it was neither strained nor awkward. Pacheo was a woman of few words, and she enjoyed the quiet as much as her superior did so neither felt the need to interrupt it with needless banter. Although there was one who did, and Ben perked up slightly when he noted the man’s absence. “Do I want to know what Camarda is up to..?”

Her eyes didn’t even leave the book, continuing to read as she replied, “I believed he was going to take a shower then track down the pilot who flew us over from the Nariph fuel depot…Bishop, I believe.” He sighed through an amused smile.

“He’s relentless, isn’t he?”

“Mhm.”

Standing up from his seat, Ben grabbed one of his hoodies from his cloths pile as he started towards the door. “I better stop him…” Pacheo flicked a finger across the screen, moving onto another page as she wondered aloud.

“Temporary at best.”

“Long enough to tell Titus what I’ve let loose in his ship.”

“Easier to ask for forgiveness.”

“I’m fond of the hard way.” He rebutted, flicking the hood up with a grin at the woman. She simply shook her head, and the commander left her to the book, stepping into the dimly lit hallway with an idle glance in both directions. Rather than wandering aimlessly, he opted to make use of the ‘eyes’ he knew were watching him. “Prophet, you there?”

“Of course, sir.” The AI replied instantly in his ear piece, facilitating a much easier and more private conversation. “It is good to speak with you again. How might I be of assistance?”

“I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Ben…” He commented idly, rubbing under his nose with a light grin. “Nice to hear from you too. I’m looking for one Lieutenant Commander Camarda. Got anything for me?” Prophet took only a moment to process the request.

“Your associate is currently departing the flight deck. He has been conversing with Lieutenant Bishop.” The AI paused, before continuing. “Apologies for the intrusion, but Detective Orlav is requesting your presence in the Conference room for a routine security interview.”

There was a thick pause, Ben’s eyes darkening slightly for a moment. “Access level?”

“All relevant classified information has remained classified, as per your arrangement with the Operator.” His features lightened instantly, and the commander grinned lopsidedly at nothing in particular.

“Alright then, might as well humour the detective for a bit. Tell Camarda to keep it in his pants for me, would you?” He turned on his heel and started down the hallway, chewing idly on his lip beneath the protective shadow of his hoodie. Job or not, it never sat right when people started to dig into his past, even without the clearance level necessary. He’d met far too many hackers in his career to trust simple encryption.

It seems he’d have to get rid of this Orlav’s curiosity right at the source.

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Quietly walking the hall towards the conference room, Ben glided soundlessly past the various personnel using the hallway, ignoring the few lingering gazes his curious appearance garnered. His clothing was far more casual than most would likely wear aboard a warship, and the hood likely made him seem more suspicious than necessary. “Aren’t I supposed to be good at blending..?”

The corridor was decorated with paintings that he assumed were supposed to be rather impressive. Pausing in front of one such piece, he stared at the ‘art’ for a few moments before shaking his head with a chuckle. The ‘finer’ things in life weren’t really his thing, and the artistic merit of contemporary pieces was just as confusing as the galactic stock market.

Trudging the final few steps to the glass ‘oval’, he pulled the door open to where he saw the waiting figure of who he assumed was this Detective Orlav. Slatton waved lightly before burying his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, crossing the room with a lazy gait. How exactly did one get the ‘rank’ of Detective anyway? Wasn’t exactly a military designation, and Ben wondered idly if he was about to be grilled by a civilian.

Dropping into a chair opposite the greying man, Ben’s tired eyes locked momentarily with his, before flashing a toothy grin that didn’t belong on someone with the title ‘Commander’. “You rang, Detective Orlav? Worried I’m up to something nasty?” He leaned back in the chair, propping his bare feet up on the sleek table without delay. “Or is this just a courtesy call?”

The detective looked at Ben, eyes neutral as he stared at the commander. “I must say Ben,” He began, his Russian accent thick as he spoke, “You are very interesting. Tell me, how did you end up here?”

Ben blinked passively, pulling a hand from his pocket to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. “I took a shuttle. Shouldn’t that be pretty obvious? Was a bit of a cramped flight, but you can’t always go first class.” Petr nodded as he interlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the desk

“I assume it was a first class shuttle, Consultant Pothier.”

“Hardly. Alliance can’t afford to be flying nobodies around in top of the line ships. Gotta save that for the big dogs.” He stretched with a tired yawn, lacing his hands behind his head as he fixed the man with a bored expression. “Is this really why you want to talk to me? My travel accommodations? Could have just asked Prophet for that, not like I’m going to get offended.”

“Yes, the Alliance has a nasty habit of that, do they not?” The detective pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one in his mouth before flicking one out and offering it to Ben. “Do you smoke?”

“Nah.”

Orlav nodded, sticking the cigarette back into the pack before retrieving the lighter from his pants pocket. “Admirable, I must stop this probably.” The detective remarked as he lit the cigarette and took a long drag. “They will kill me, especially at my age.” He blew a long stream of smoke into the air as he slowly brought the cigarette down, pointing it casually at the commander. “But you wouldn't have to worry about that...would you?”

“I‘m not some immortal, Detective. I bleed like anyone else.” Ben grinned, rubbing under his nose with a light chuckle. “But I get the feeling we’re on the track you want to be on, so maybe it’s time you came out with it, yeah?”

“Fair enough Mister Slatton. We both know that is your real name, and that this consultant of yours is nothing more than a disguise.” Orlav lifted the cigarette back up to his mouth and put it between his lips. He then reached into his on of his many anterior coat pockets “That alone causes little for me to worry about.” After a moment, he pulled out a data-pad and slid across the table to Ben “What disturbs me is that you are a walking corpse on my ship.”

“I’m stubborn what can I say.” He yawned sleepily, blinking a few times to dispel the urge to rest. “It’s not like I’m trying to hide my name or anything. What’s the point? Its jut a name.” Pulling his feet down, the commander cracked his shoulder sluggishly before continuing. “So, what about a dead man disturbs you so much, Detective?”

“I have had my experiences in the field that I am sure you are in.” Was the reply as he blew more smoke into the air. “I don't trust anyone in our business, especially those who are affiliated with Cerberus. Now, I don't expect that you will tell me anything Benjamin, but know this.” Orlav leaned into the table “I will be watching you, and if you pull on any of the strings that are used to control you, I will deal with it personally.” He leaned back and put the cigarette out on the table before continuing “This is not a threat, just fair warning.”

There was silence only for a moment, Ben’s expression dull as his eyes regarded the man. “Let me clarify your thought process, Detective.” His voice had lost its humour, and in whole his entire demeanour shifted into something more serious as he blankly addressed the man. “There are no strings. No cords. No arrangements. I work with this organization and by extension this ship, of my own accord.” The hood cast shadows over his face; the slightest upturn on his lips the only expression visible. “What you see of me is what I deem appropriate for you to see of me. While I appreciate the ‘warning’, it is ultimately pointless.”

His eyes flicked to the mark on the table left by the cigarette. “Your efforts will be better spent elsewhere. If you claim experience in my ‘field’ then you should be no doubt aware that we likely have traitors in our midst already. They should be your focus, unless you subscribe to the belief that Oracle stands at par with the veterans of the galaxy’s shadows. In which case, I recommend a new line of work.”

He let his words hang for a moment, before his eyes coldly found Orlav’s again. “And might I remind you, Detective, that it is Commander Slatton, regardless of your perceived position aboard this ship.”

“I hold no official rank Benjamin. I could call you Хуесос, and all they could do is kick me out. That would matter little to me.” The man met his eyes evenly. “And there are no traitors on this ship... because I am on it.”

“Then you are far too naïve for a man your age, Orlav.” Slatton straightened in his seat, fingers laced before his face with cold intensity. “An oracle who opposes hell’s great hound, it does not take a prophet to foresee the jaws around its throat.” He tapped a finger on the conference table, the sound firm and echoing within the glass oval. “Consider this your ‘fair’ warning. If you attempt to dig into my past again, there will be repercussions. I will instruct Prophet to inform me of any such attempts. I trust I have made myself perfectly clear?”

"I enjoy your optimism in Prophet's ability to control me. Perhaps you are the naive one." Orlav stood from his seat and straightened his attire for a moment. “Men are told words, loyalty, unity and brotherhood, Words said to keep the faith of the fearful, But in the end these words do no good, for in the end, fear makes traitors of the faithful.” Petr recited the poem of his own devise without so much as a pause as he walked towards the door “We will talk again soon, Commander.”

Slatton’s eyes drifted to the man’s back for a moment. “Detective.” The commander paused for a moment, leaning back in his chair with a solemn frown. “The next time you speak to me, ensure all of your affairs are in order.”

Orlav stopped as he opened the door, not looking over as he responded. “Next time I speak to you, it will be when I am investigating you for the murders of all those innocent people on that ship.” And with that, the Russian exited the conference room, as Slatton rose slowly from his seat.

“Prophet.”

“You called, sir?”

“I want to know if Orlav tries digging again. If he can think faster than an artificial intelligence, then perhaps he’ll slip it by you. I doubt it.” Slatton rubbed his lip, eyes blank as he continued. “And if he insists on pushing this subject…”

“Please refrain from taking matters into your own hands, Commander Slatton.”

His eyes flicked casually to the ceiling, as if the AI was staring down at him. “Then I highly recommend you inform the Operator of this meeting and take this ‘detective’ off my case. Or she’ll find herself short one snoop.” He paused with a heavy sigh. “Don’t even bother; I know she’s already listening. Fix this, or I will, Carson.” After a moment, the tension left his body and he offered a light smirk. “And for the last time Prophet, it’s Ben.”

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Having retreated to his quarters shortly after the meeting with the ship’s ‘Internal Affairs Officer’, Ben sat idle behind his desk as he lazily bounced a grey ball between his hands on the polished surface. He hadn’t done much else for the better part of the day, and Pacheo had left to go get them both some food from the Mess Hall with Camarda.

His eyes drooped periodically, but there was little chance that he was lucky enough to fall asleep from boredom. He’d given up on that possibility years ago. Catching the ball firmly, he leaned back in his seat while spinning it idly in his palm. “There is just nothing to do here, is there..?”

A small holographic image of Prophet appeared on the small display integrated into his desk, and the AI gave the same polite smile in greeting it always had since they’d first met back on Bekenstein. “Benjamin, I have informed the Operator of your request as instructed. She has no reply at this time.”

“Well, hopefully she takes it seriously. I’m really not trying to make waves here by slitting some over-zealous Russian’s throat, but-”

“If I may, is it really wise to resort to such matters so early into the situation?”

“Sometimes things need to be addressed immediately, Prophet. For example, what if one of the crew thought it wise to expose the Alliance using an AI, even though you are very much illegal? We’d contain it immediately, right?”

The AI seemed to pause for thought, more of a conversational quirk he suspected since it had likely processed his statement the moment it left his mouth. “In the theoretical situation, yes.” Ben nodded, spinning the ball in his palm.

“Now, while I can’t say my past is exactly top-level national secrets…” His eyes fell to the floor, and the ball dropped from his hand suddenly as Ben’s figure shrunk the slightest degree. Pressing a hand to his face, the commander dug the nails roughly into his temples for a moment before continuing. “…the last thing I, and by extension we, need is someone digging that up in plain view.”

“I see, Benjamin.”

“Don’t mistake this for eager. I just want the past to finally stay in the past…and things will run smoother if it does.” Flicking his gaze down to the fallen ball, Ben grunted as he bent over to retrieve it. “Hyper-intelligence or not, don’t worry about it, Prophet. I’m confident my favourite robot can keep an old man from digging around too much.” Tossing the ball up once, there was a light laugh from the man. “And congrats on the name. Only took you three months.”

“Thank you.” The AI retorted, with almost the slightest hint of humour in his voice.

“So, anything worth mentioning going on? Dangerous intrigues? Dastardly conspiracies? Some decent sparring partners, maybe?”

“While we may lack the intensity of plots, sparring partners you will find in no short supply. I will happily compile a list of suitable opponents that are capable of standing more on your skill level.” The AI went silent for a moment as it combed the ship records and the like, before a small list of names appeared on the display. “I trust these will be to standard.”

Ben glanced at the list, raising an eyebrow curiously. “The Captain’s on here, but you’ve got him greyed out.”

“The Captain is currently preparing a meeting with the command staff ove-” Before Prophet could finish, Ben was up and around his desk in the blink of an eye. “Benjamin, you are not technically a member of the ship’s commander staff.”

“I am an intelligence consultant, aren’t I?” He fired back, punching open the door with a grin. “And that sounds infinitely more like the intrigue I asked you about. Don’t hold out on me, P!”

“I do not believe your alias constitutes as sufficient reason to be included.”

“I’m going, that’s final. Tell Pacheo and Camarda I stepped out, would you?” There was no reply from the AI, a sign which he took as acceptance as he moved down the hall towards the lift. A fancy meeting with the command staff didn’t sound like it’d need a conference room, no more like something akin to a war room.

With that in mind, Ben called up the location of said room in his head from his brief review of the ship’s layout shortly after his arrival. Command deck. It’d likely be encrypted to keep the rank and file out and away from sensitive information. Would he have the clearance? Not likely. As if that would keep a good commando out.

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The low light of Alliance vessels suited Ben well, giving countless places to ‘hide’ even when they were in plain sight. Propped up against a terminal, obscured by the dark lighting, Ben felt perfectly at home in the darkness watching the meeting begin before him. When Prophet had mentioned the command staff, he hadn’t been kidding. Everyone present, save for the skittish looking younger man, were part of the brief who’s who he’d been given when he’d come aboard.

They all were grimly focused on the display in front of them, the Daedalus system by the look of the read outs. His eyes snapped to the first one to speak; Lieutenant Dike if he remembered correctly, as she began their little pow-wow. “This is the latest intel we have on Daedalus,” She announced, and he leaned forward with only slightly increased interest. “We know there are least two Cerberus signatures in the system. Only one, however, a cruiser-class, is showing up on scans.”

“We know this for sure?” The flight commander asked, and Ben cracked a one-sided grin at his doubt. Smart to want solid answers before heading into the fray.

Dike replied quickly. “Yes, sir. If you’ll see here, we got multiple distress signals originating from this area, put out at the exact same time as these...” Her finger moved to a planet on the opposite side of the system’s sun where more distress beacons were flashing. Nearby those same beacons was the Cerberus cruiser, designated by a light-gray four-arrow reticule. “Considering we have no available scanning data of what’s happening on the opposite end of the system from the cruiser, we can make a safe assumption that Cerberus has a stealth class over in that area.”

Ben’s eyes flicked to Taylor’s head as it rose at the mention of the stealth frigate, giving the Captain a serious look that he met with an assenting nod. The two had suspicions already? Curious. “The Vindicator.”

Dike asked the question no doubt on everyone’s mind. “Pardon, sir?”

Titus wasted no time explaining. “The Cerberus frigate I commanded before defecting to Oracle. When I spoke with the Illusive Man, he said Commander Buchan.” The next words from his mouth were soundless to Ben, his whole body tensing at the mention of Buchan. Buchan. Vala Buchan. Commander Buchan.

His mind snapped to alertness he wasn’t accustomed to, racing as the continuing meeting echoed dimly in the background whilst his brain tried to sort this information. It was just a suspicion, but the words had been spoken by the Illusive Man himself. Commander, oh god, he’d made her a commander?! A ship, was she ready to handle that? How much had changed in the year? The Vala he’d known, the one he knew he saw on Hephaestus…she couldn’t be leading a ship, could she?

His eyes snapped back to Titus, watching the man with cold intensity. How much did he know? Could he fill in the missing information? The meeting shifted to talk of data and Reapers, but nothing that was said was penetrating. The information could be regained; he rationalized, but an entire system?

A system that she was in. Could they catch her? Would they get there in time to make that possible? He didn’t know, and the lack of knowledge made his head throb painfully. Benjamin sucked in a heavy breath, soothing his hammering mind for a blissful moment as the meeting fell into silence.

He’d risk it. “If you ask me,” He began, alerting the entire room to his presence immediately as he meet the inquisitive stares head on. “You’ll want to go for the system.”

“How long have you been there?”

He smirked slightly, forcing himself to exude the calm confidence that this meeting required despite the churning tempest in his stomach. Pushing off the terminal, he ignored the question as he placed himself firmly between Rhodie and Thomas - a move far bolder than the simplicity of it seemed to suggest. They formed the ‘power base’ of the vessel, and he had placed himself amongst them. Quiet, but effective psychology.

“It’s an easier decision than you might think, Titus,” He said. “You can’t sacrifice a whole system simply to save data that can be rediscovered with time.” Cold arithmetic, he’d once heard it called. The brutal rationality that war demanded, where one must sacrifice to gain. The information, he knew, was more valuable in the long term. The Reapers; a far greater threat than a simple Cerberus purge. But Cerberus opposed the Reapers. The information would be used against them, he reasoned. It was safe to sacrifice.

Nothing was thought of the lives stationed at the location, at least not now. To think of them would cripple the resolve to remain firm. To influence this decision. To make it fall the way he wished. After a minute of silence, Titus spoke with a firmness that told them all a decision had been made.

Somewhere in the pit of his mind, he apologized soundlessly. “Commander Rhodie,” Titus said, staring intently at the display over the war table.

The commanding office of the Marathon’s fighter and interceptor squadrons snapped to attention and held a sharp salute. “Sir.”

“Ready your pilots.”

“Aye-Aye, Captain!” Rhodie replied, turning on heel to depart the war room.

“Major Thomas.”

“Sir,” the fire team commander replied with equal ferocity and discipline.

“Make sure your Sierra teams get some chow and resupply. They’ll be heading back out.”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

“Darcy!”

“Daedalus, sir?”

“Do it.”

Internally, Ben released a breath as the slightest tension of his body rolled out and left him standing far looser than he had been moments before. Tucking his hands silently back into his hoodie pockets, his eyes focused on the Captain who didn’t seem finished quite yet with their little briefing.

“Listen up,” Titus spoke aloud to the others remaining around the table. “I don’t like it when my enemy forces me to make a decision like this. When we enter that system, we will give them no quarter. Dismissed.”

The commando was motionless; watching stoically as the others immediately turned and went to their various duties. He lingered, as did Titus for a brief moment, watching the man calmly straighten up from the display. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and Ben ducked his head down slowly. “You made the right call, Jonathan.”

The lie passed through his teeth like it was natural, and Ben was silent as the captain left the room without another word. Titus could have reached the decision on his own, he rationalized. They’d not known each other long enough; there wasn’t the camaraderie to solidify his opinion to the man. Simple white lies, he knew. Little white lies and "good" intentions.

Tugging his hood down over his face, Benjamin cracked a sad smile. “Commander Buchan, huh?” The guilt would have to wait.