Mass Effect
On the Edge
Season 3 Jonathan Titus carefully stood just before the middle of the three large glass windows of the observation deck on what Oracle called âthe Lookoutâ; a space station developed in secret, and masked by the bulk of the Allianceâs 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 Oracleâs 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 soldierâs 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 galaxyâs 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 manâs 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 wasnât 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 Elizabethâs mother, Nina, who had been with them since the mission to Hephaestus, working alongside Terrance on upgrading some of the Vindicatorâs 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 Vindicatorâs roster that he had not personally known and he had not vouched for. When the board asked what he thought of himself⊠He replied, âAsk my crew.â
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, âWell? Whatâs the verdict?â
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.
âWellâŠ,â Sibyl quietly began, crossing her arms and looking out of the window at Earth with the same gloomy stance as her longtime friend, ââŠyouâll need a new uniform. Iâm thinking one of blue and gold?â
Titusâs head jerked a full ninety degrees, so fast that he barely noticed the numbing pop in his neck. âSeriously?!â
Sibyl opened a clinched fist and revealed a brass pin in her palm, the Allianceâs arching âAâ emblem. âYou, and every one of your crew, have been cleared of all charges and offered a place in Oracle. While you arenât
officially apart of any of the Allianceâs fleet, you
are Alliance again, nonetheless. Youâre just working for me now.â
âEveryone?â Titus asked, still finding it hard to believe.
âEveryone,â Sibyl confirmed, nodding with a smile. âThe 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, youâre 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?â
âCrystal, maâam,â Titus nodded.
âGood. Welcome back, Captain.â Sibyl moved gracefully around and started walking toward the opposite end of the room that she had entered from.
âCaptain?â Titus inquired, hastening to catch up to her.
Sibyl, again, smiled at his surprise. âYou 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. Iâve 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.â
âOracle has a cruiser?â
âI see weâve got a lot of talking to do,â Sibyl jested. âCome. Letâs take a walk.â
âOfficer on deck!â 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 cruiserâs 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. âMaâam. Sir,â he said in greeting.
Sibyl returned a salute of her own and shouted, âCarry on!â The bridgeâs occupants returned to their work immediately.
Titus noted that the Marathonâs 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. Itâs 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 bridgeâs main deck, was ahead and to the left of the airlock, down a small ramp. Thatâs where Sibyl and Titus were headed to now.
âDarcy!â 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. âForgive the insubordination, Captain, but itâs damn good to see you! I was sure they were going to can you and put you in shackles.â
âCome on, Darcy,â Titus said. âIf a control freak like the Illusive Man canât hold me down, who is there that can?â
âTrue that.â
Titus nodded to Darcyâs controls. âSo how does the Marathon compare to the Vindicator?â
âWell itâs 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. Weâve 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. Someoneâs got to be pretty ballsy to take us on.â
Titus smiled, but more in response to seeing how happy and enthusiastic Darcy was. The man hadnât 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.
âCaptain,â the familiar voice of Serena Taylor said over Titusâ 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.
âTaylor,â Titus said with a smile. âItâs good to see you again.â
âLikewise,â she responded.
âSo are you still my second in command?â he asked.
âWhat else would I be?â she asked with a grin.
âWell Iâm sure Sib can always assign you to the mess hall,â Titus joked.
Taylor laughed and replied, âYou know damn well I canât cook. Oh and since the Alliance didnât exactly have a rank for me, your friend, Miss Carson, pinned on a Staff Commander medal.â
âCommander Taylor,â Titus said, getting the feel of the rank and name. âNow thatâs hot.â
As Sibyl and Titus continued their tour of the Marathon, Titus took the time to ask her a few questions regarding the ship itself.
âThe frigate that picked me up on Omega was also named the Marathon. Does Oracle have two Marathons, or what?â
âCorrect,â Sib said. âThe 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, thatâs a little out of our technological league right. But we havenât given up on the idea. We wanted to give you the cruiser, rather than the frigate, because weâre well aware that the Illusive Man has several of his cronies looking for you right now and the extra muscle will help.â
âThanks,â Titus mumbled, unsure just how eager Invaru and Ross must be to get their hands on him.
âAll of your fighters, interceptors, and Kodiak shuttles are equipped with stealth tech, though. So donât worry, you can still get the drop on your enemies planetside.â
âHow many other ships does Oracle have?â
âMilitarized ships? Thatâs it. One frigate, one cruiser; both named the Marathon. We have several recon frigates, but they arenât built for combat and have only defensive weapon systems. If Oracle ever needs to use any heavy hitters, we call up Aurora.â
âThe Aurora Initiative?â Titus stopped in the middle of the corridor they were walking through. âI remember running into them a couple of times.â
Sibyl stopped and turned to face her friend. âYes; and Iâm sorry about that, Jonathan. Youâll be pleased to know that I personally insured Captain Shire was replaced as the director of the Aurora Initiative.â
âWhoâs in charge of it now?â
Sibyl grinned. âYouâll see soon enough.â
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 werenât 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 Captainâs 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 ânew uniform shit look goodâ; and the timid Braden Reynolds grappled onto Titusâ torso without shame. Sentry wouldnât shut up about all the new toys heâs able to play with now in the armory on deck seven; and Dianna set aside her moodiness long enough to actually nod in Titusâ 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 âTraining Chambersâ next to the arrow pointed to wear Sibyl was heading for.
âWhat am I going to find down here?â 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 Titusâ 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.
âWhat in theâŠâ Titus began.
âCaptain, Iâm sure you remember Agent Harrison,â 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.
âSo heâs a spy, a ninja, and a biotic?â
âAgent Harrison,â Sibyl replied, âis 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. Iâm making sure they get that, and Iâll be the one to deliver. The recruits arenât ready yet, but someday soon⊠they will be. You should see some of the other specialists weâre training up. Biotic ninja spies are only the beginning.â She finished her last sentence with a smirk.
Harrison relaxed his katana and walked over to where Carson and Titus were standing. âSir,â he said, and offered a salute after transitioning the sword to his left hand. After the Captain returned his own salute, Harrison said, âIf I may, itâs an honor to be serving under your command. Iâve 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.â
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, âHow old are you, kid?â
âTwenty, sir,â he instantly replied.
âYou werenât much older when you started hitting your stride, Jonathan,â Sibyl reminded. âAdam, here, in more ways than one, is a lot like you.â
âAdam, huh?â Titus extended an open hand and the young man took it with a firm shake. âGlad to have you on the team.â
âGlad to be here,â he replied. Adamâs 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.
Bradenâs room wasnât 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 Titusâ strict orders.
The room was still an officerâs 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 didnât, 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.
âWhoâs this?â one of Gavinâs clients asked. The constant flashing of red and orange club lights distorted the humanâs facial expressions, but Braden knew the man was grinning by the malicious sound of his voice.
Gavinâs calloused hand tightened over Bradenâs shoulder, sparking pain from a very recently inflicted wound, and barked, âNot for sale.â
âIs he at least available for rent?â 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.
Gavinâs silence meant that he was considering the offer, probably debating a price. Braden actually prayed that he would accept. One night, thatâs all he asked for; one night to get away from his batarian owner. He wouldnât technically be free, probably ever, but it would at least [i]feel like freedom. Anything was better than being Gavinâs
chikolah.
âTwo thousand credits,â Gavin demanded. Bradenâs 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.
âFifteen,â the human bartered.
âNineteen,â Gavin countered.
âMake it seventeen, and Iâll buy some of your dust, too.â Braden was shocked. Whoever this man was, he wasnât going to walk away without a fight. There was still hope after all.
âFine,â Gavin grunted, shoving Braden so hard and so fast that he flopped over the table, knocking over one of the asariâs drinks. âDonât be so clumsy, you idiot boy!â 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, âOne night. Thatâs it. And the dust will be a thousand; or are you going to try and barter with me on that?â
âOf course not, my friend,â the man said. âAnd Iâll be sure to return the kid in pristine condition.â[/i]
Lizzieâs 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. âWhatâs wrong?â she asked.
âUhm, nothing,â 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 Lizzieâs delicate fingers catch his wrist.
âHey,â she said, her whispering voice soothing to his ears. âYou can tell me.â
âYouâd never understand.â 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 batarianâs pet and personal property.
âMaybe not,â Lizzie replied. âBut you can still talk to me about it. Iâm always willing to listen to you, no matter what or when.â Elizabethâs hand tightened around Bradenâs and they stood there for a moment, together in silence.
âOkay,â the boy finally said.
With the targeting reticule lined up for a perfect headshot, Villayn carefully squeezed his talon back on the Viperâs 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 rifleâs scope to observe the headshot in the targetâs human-shaped silhouette.
âVery nice,â Sentryâs voice commented over the rangeâs intercom, coming from the safety of the control room behind Villayn. âKeep that up and youâll be able to knock out one target per minute.â
âIt would be easier for me to concentrate without the sarcasm,â the captain quipped. âBesides, perfect precision shots like that require patience. Something I doubt a loose-cannon like yourself would understand.â
Villayn heard Sentryâs happy chuckle before the armorer replied, âIs that a challenge?â
âPlease,â Azuric said. âDonât be so foolish. A turian can out-shoot a human any day.â
âSomeoneâs cocky.â
The hissing of the blast doors at the back of the gallery caught Villaynâs attention and he turned his head to see Darak walking inside. Thumbing a talon over his shoulder, the lieutenant said, âHave you checked out the gym yet? Two whole stories. Pretty nice.â Darak stopped next to Villayn and turned to look down the range at his captainâs target. After shrugging his shoulders he said, âGood, but... not your best.â
Sentry started balling in laughter over the intercom as Villayn leaned back, appearing to be visibly insulted his lieutenantâs observation. But he soon dropped the act and said, âI admit, maybe Iâve lost my touch after two months of not being allowed to handle a weapon. I didnât think the Alliance would actually hold us in custody along with the rest of Titusâ crew. Not until the hierarchy officially gave us the cold shoulder, anyway.â
âYes, but it was definitely for the best, sir,â Darak reminded him. âI much prefer what weâre doing now anyway.â
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 didnât 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, âWell. It will definitely take me some time to memorize each of your names, but no more than a few days, tops. Anyway, letâs 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.
âNow that Iâve made myself clear on that issue; letâs move on to something lighter. Security, for instance.â 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. âStaff Lieutenant Torx,â the Captain addressed.
âSir.â
âHow strong is your unit?â
As if expecting the question right from the start, the Marathonâs Chief of Security Operations replied with a slight Texan accent, âTwenty are âround-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.â
âSounds good.â Titus looked down one seat toward Sentry. âWeapons count, Sentry?â
With a smile, the armorer replied, âIâve got 200 Avengers, 75 Mattocks, 20 Mantises and Vipers, 100 M-77âs, 100 Katanas - er, the shotgun kind, not the fancy sword kind that boy-wonder has.â Sentry nodded in Harrisonâs direction, who was sitting right across from him. Adam only rolled his eyes and Sentry continued from where he left off. â200 Predators, 50 Phalanxes, and... well, a whole shit ton of other goodies. I even have a few Argus assault rifles down there.â
âSo we have enough to start a Second Contact War,â Titus mused. âGood.â
Titusâs 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 oâclock shadow. He had to be as young as Adam by the looks of it. âConnor... DeMarco, was it?â
The young serviceman nervously straightened his posture in his chair and stammered out a quick âYes, sir!â
âDonât be so skittish, kid,â Titus remarked. âYouâre my comm specialist, correct?â
âThatâs correct, sir. I monitor all in- and out-bound tactical communiques, maintain the QECs and Prophetâs connection, and Iâm also your primary handler in the field.â
âAnd
off the field?â 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.
âOkay...,â Titus said, finally halting the awkward moment. âWell, DeMarco, welcome to the team. Moving on...â
[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 nâ greet. âLadies and gentlemen,â he said, standing up from his seat, âthis mission is not going to be an easy one. Our goals are many, and diverse. Cerberus is hell-bent on ensuring that Iâm dead, and Oracle is buried. The Collectors are going to continue to try and abduct unsuspecting humans from fringe colonies. And, hell, Iâm 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. Letâs not let them down. Dismissed.â
"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.