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Stephen "Sentry" Valentine

The Vindicator's friendly neighborhood (combat) engineer.

0 · 496 views · located in Mass Effect Universe created by Bioware

a character in “Mass Effect: On the Edge”, as played by Gunneh

History

Former Alliance engineer/EOD.

So begins...

Stephen "Sentry" Valentine's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine
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#, as written by Gunneh
Sweat began to bead up on his brow, the temperature in the air seeming to raise as he focused on the task that had been set before him. His breathing grew heavier, fogging his visor heavily, but he kept his concentration as best he could.

"How's it going, Valentine," a female voice asked him through the comm. link in his helmet. He chuckled nervously as he adjusted his grip on the tool in his hand.

"Well," Valentine replied, "I'm staring at enough boom to level a whole city block or more, and the stench from these Vorcha that we mowed down to get to this beauty of a deathbringer is starting to make me gag. Aside from all that, I'm splendid. How's your day going?" She chuckled a bit at that. It made him feel a little better.

"I'd be much better if we weren't on a suicide mission," she replied. "Hurry up with that thing so we can get the fuck out of here, kay?"

"Sweetheart, if I rush anything with this, we might just end up meeting Jesus today. Don't make me meet him just yet. I'm not wearing my fancy underwear."

The las thing he heard was her laughing. That's the last thing he ever heard before the bullets started flying and the snarls of more Vorcha surrounded them. And then there was the explosion...


**************


"What can I get for you, sir?"

Sentry looked up from the bar slowly, the Asari barkeep's voice barely registering in his mind above the sound of his own thoughts. She smiled at him as pleasantly as she could, though he could see the muscles at the corners of her mouth twitching from forcing the expression. He smirked and pulled a cigarette and lighter from the button up pocket of his Cerberus Class Alpha dress uniform.

"Yeah, doll," he replied. "I'm gonna need a scotch, a cheese sandwich, and an ashtray."

"That's a little bit of an odd combonation at 10am, don't you think?"

"No one ever called me the smartest motherfucker," he said with a small chuckle as he pull his right arm up to the bar top and the orange light of his Omni-Tool sprang to life. He tapped at the VI or a second and then dropeed his arm back to his side as he pulled another drag off of the cigarette. "There you go, honey. Keep the change. Just no more questions, ok?"

"You got it, sir."

From somewhere overhead, an intercom shouted something about another ship pulling in to refeul. He thought he head Vindicator, but he wasn't looking to rush. The barkeep sat the frosted glass of scotch in front of him and the cheese sandich right next to it on what he could only guess to be the only paper plate left in the Milky Way. He scoffed and turned the glass up, draining the amber liquid in one gulp before he set about eating his sandwich.

It wasn't long before he felt someone's presence behind him. "Penny for your thoughts, Commander," Sentry asked, his mouth full of cheese sandwich.

The man he was expecting stepped out from the shadows into the neon lighting from the bar's overhang. He sported a similar Cerberus uniform, brown hair slicked back, and hazel eyes; darkened by the dim lighting. Instead of sitting, he merely stood next to the where Sentry sat, both hands behind his back.

"Mr. Valentine, I presume? Do you know who I am?"

Sentry swallowed hard, then took another drag off of his cigarette. "Commander Jonathan Titus, born 2158. Attended the Alliance Naval Academy as a lieutenant. Became a very decorated N7 Marine. Congratulations for that, by the way. Obtained the rank of captain by 2182 before leaving the Alliance for more the more human-favorable conditions that Cerberus offers. Made commander of the Vindicator in 2184." He took another bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed.

"You're not the only one that got a pretty little manilla folder, Commander."

He stood from his seat and tossed a nod towards the Asari behind the bar before picking up his bag and turning towards the boarding docks. "I suppose I'll go get myself situated, sir. If you need anything, you'l know where to find me."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine
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#, as written by Gunneh
It wasn't long after Sentry made his first steps onto the Vindicator that a crew member found him and showed him to his quarters. His jaw dropped as he stared at the waterfall and the plants and what looked to be the cushiest bed he'd ever seen in his life. "Holy...I knew being a soldier would work out for me at some point," he said to himself as he began unpacking his things.

Minutes later, he was changed into a thick pair of navy blue cover-alls and taking his first steps into the Vindicator's shuttle bay and began his mental inventory: Four Kodiaks sat in their designated areas, all looking to be in working condition no matter how banged up, dented, or scratched they seemed to be. Tools were strewn here and there where the engineering crew had been working and just left their mess to be dealt with at a later point. He sighed inwardly and ran a hand through his messy ginger hair as he started picking up the tools at his feet.

The sound of whirring gears caught his attention just moments later, and he turned to see the shuttle bay door dropping, followed by the sound of hoverjets. He watched intently as a large metal container was maneuvered into the bay by a twiggy-looking man controling the pallet by his datapad. The man stopped the pallet underneath an unused spot for another Kodiak and turned to Sentry.

"Can you sign for this, please," the man asked. Sentry stared at the man for a moment, then at the container, and then back to the man.

"Um," Sentry replied, "you might want to get Commander Titus' signature for...whatever this is."

"Listen, man, I really don't care who signs for it. I just need you to get it out of my container and off of my pallet so I can go back to what I was doing."

Sentry looked back at the container and then snatched datapad from the man's hand, mumbling something about the man looking "ever-so-busy" and something else about how signing for packages wasn't his job, and a few choice curse words as well. The man nodded to him as he took the datapad back and dropped the pallet to the floor before fiddling with his Omni-Tool for a moment. The container's lid sprang open and hit the shuttle bay deck with a loud bang. His face contorted into a look of supreme confusion as he brought his Omni-Tool closer to his mouth.

"Uhm, Titus," Sentry said, the confusion evident, "we got a new toy..."

**************


"How'd the 'refueling stop' go, commander," Darcy asked as he spun his chair around to face Titus. There was a grin plastered across the helmsman's face, but there was something else about it that made Titus feel a bit awkward.

"It went...fine," Titus replied, though the upward inflection made the statement sound more like a question than anything else. "Braden liked his gift, we picked up Valentine...Yeah. It went fine."

"I saw you talking to a pretty lady, you sly dog," Darcy exclaimed in a very sing-songy voice. "Well, I mean, EDI 'saw' you with a pretty lady, but she was kind enough to fill me in on the latest gossip. Spill it. Who's the mystery woman, hmm? Did you kiss her? Please tell me you kissed her. I'm living vicariously through you, so if neither of us get lucky then no one's winnin-"

"Darcy," Titus replied, cutting the helmsman off, "she's just an old friend from the Academy who helped me get ahold of Braden's gift. Nothing more, nothing less." Darcy let out a disgusted sigh.

"Fiiiiiine," he said dejectedly, "don't fill me in on any juicy details."

"Just get the clearance for us to get out of here and stop whining, okay?" Darcy threw up a sarcastic salute

"Oui oui, mon capitaine!" He spun his chair back to the proper position and started fiddling with the displays in front of him. Titus was just about to leave when Darcy spoke up again. "Well that's odd."

"What's odd?"

"Well, for one, you won't give me the scoop on the pretty lady-"

"Darcy."

"-and for two, we're about three and a half tons heavier than we were when we docked. Three options: Braden's gift is made out of some sort of futuristic, super heavy steel that only he can carry, Mr. Valentine is an unholy ass-ton heavier than his dossier says he is, or....I haven't figured that last option out yet."

"Uhm, Titus...we've got a new toy..."

Titus looked down at his wrist as his Omni-Tool sprang to life and Valentine's voice came with it. "A new toy," he asked. "What do you mean we have a new toy, Valentine?"

"You might not believe me if I told you. Come on down here and check it out for yourself."

**************


"...he sent us a Hammerhead?"

Sentry nodded slowly as he hooked the Hammerhead onto the overhead mechanical arms and started hoisting the vehicle in behind the last Kodiak. "It would appear so, yes."

"...why would he send us a Hammerhead?"

"I have no idea. Got any missions lined up for us that would involve a three ton, self-healing, jumping hoverboard that has a big gun and can dig?" Titus ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Not so far as I know, but it's not like he ever gives me a straight forward answer in the first place." Titus held his hand out to Sentry and Sentry took it, shaking it firmly. "Welcome aboard the Vindicator, Valentine."

"Call me Sentry," he replied. "Is every day with you guys this weird?"

"Nope," Titus replied as he walked back towards the elevator. "It's worse, usually."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine Character Portrait: Captain Azuric Villayn Character Portrait: Elizabeth "Lizzie" Rikers
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Titus sat behind his desk in the captain’s quarters and tapped the key on the side of his computer’s screen to bring up the haptic interfaces. An unread message was waiting for him in his secure inbox, indicated by a flashing icon in the corner of the desktop. He tapped the icon the screen flickered to show a message sent to him personally by the Illusive Man. This wasn’t entirely uncommon. Sometimes there was simply no need to use the communications room, especially if the mission wasn’t critically regarding the Collectors or Reapers. Sometimes Cerberus Command would stumble across issues that needed to be resolved with a more militant approach, rather than using their clandestine resources. That’s where Omni Cell came into play. While the Omni commanders were primarily focused on slowing down the Collectors, standard Cerberus missions could still be delegated to them; and if the details were sent from their employer personally, it had to be of some importance.

Titus:

As you may be well aware of by now, I’ve had a special package delivered to your frigate’s shuttle bay. The M-44 Hammerhead will assist you in your next mission.

Your friend, Captain Marcus Shire, has mobilized Aurora resources on Noveria, in the Attican Traverse. We’ve pinpointed their activity in a remote region on the ice planet, far from the controlling grip of the Noveria Development Corporation. Shire is believed to be investigating Cerberus involvement in the NDC, and if his suspicions are confirmed to be true, will proceed to launch an attack on their headquarters. Since Noveria is outside of Counsel space, an Alliance-sanctioned attack on the company would go unquestioned, if simply scrutinized.

Yes, we are involved in many of NDC’s projects, as we just so happen to be one of their larger financial supporters. In return, the company provides us with reliable, high technology. Some of the twenty four other technology corporations established on the independent planet are actually Cerberus front organizations.

Commander, if we allow Aurora to interfere in our operations on Noveria, the setbacks would be detrimental. Since you’re the one that attracted Aurora’s attention to us in the first place - and, no doubt, sparked what appears to be a need for revenge from Captain Shire – I’m assigning the Vindicator the sole task of driving them from the system. Use the Hammerhead to destroy their forward operating compound, as well as any and all heavy militarized equipment they’ve imported.

I’ve assigned the Call of Victory to their own mission involving the Blue Suns, so you won’t have any assistance from them during this ordeal. Take care, Titus, and be sure to let Shire know to never interfere with our business.


The commander closed out of the message and leaned back in his seat for a moment, smiling to himself. “It seems I’ve started a war. Nice.”




“Can I at least have the chance to breathe fir-!”

“Nope!” Lizzie insisted as she shoved another spoon of Braden’s dinner in his mouth. The turians joining them only chuckled. “You’ll eat and you’ll like it.”

“Yesh, muhm,” Braden mumbled as he chewed as the food and swallowed. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, but he couldn’t do a thing about it. He was stuck in that seat, being force-fed by his girlfriend in front of everyone in the mess hall, and all so he wouldn’t pass out again.

The stern figure of Commander Titus gliding across the mess hall in Lizzie’s background caught Braden’s attention. When she had brought another spoonful up to his mouth, his hand intercepted her wrist and gently lowered it. “I can feed myself, now,” he said. “Thanks.”

Lizzie grimaced, but silently sipped her coke. The two of them sat and ate their meals quietly for a long while before she finally spoke up. “Where’d you get the tags?” she asked, nodding to the dog tags hanging down on the outside of Braden’s black shirt.

The boy’s hand reached up and gently tightened around them. “They were my father’s,” he said, looking down and away from the rest of group. “Titus gave them to me.”

“The son of a soldier,” Villayn commented. “I’m sure he would be proud of what you’re doing, kid.”

A shadow suddenly loomed over the table and everyone glanced up to see the commander standing at the end, hands behind his back and shoulders broad. “Reynolds
 You up for a mission?”




Sentry, Braden, and Titus stood inside the briefing room, watching as the distorted blue light around the Vindicator’s tower faded away when the frigate exited FTL speeds. The large blue and violet planet of Noveria dominated the view. Simply looking at it made the young man shiver; an icy cold tingle running up and down his spine.

“Noveria,” the commander said as he turned to face the hologram in the center of the conference table. It was a layout of a particular surface area dominated on one end by what appeared to be a large military compound. The other end was nothing but cliffs, ice, and snow. “The mission is simple. The Vindicator will drop into low orbit, using the dense cloud cover in the atmosphere for cover. Darcy will keep the stealth systems while you-” Titus pointed across the table to Sentry “-pilot the Hammerhead down to the surface from the shuttle bay. Once on the ground, hit ‘em hard. EDI’s scans haven’t detected any heavy armor yet, but don’t be surprised if you run across a Mako or two. If that’s the case, the Hammerhead can easily outmaneuver them; even get the drop on them
 if you know what I mean. Your objective is simple: destroy any and all militarized equipment in sight.”

Sentry nodded, studying the holographic map. He then asked, looking to the teenager standing next to Titus, “One question: What’s up with the kid?”

“His name is Braden Reynolds, and he’s a biotic
 the best in my book. The Hammerhead doesn’t have much room for an entire fire team dressed in full combat armor. Only Braden and you will be planet-side. I’ll be in the CIC with Operative Taylor coordinating as your handlers and battlefield operators. Mr. Reynolds is along for the ride to simply learn; but if you find yourself in a sticky situation, he can use his own talents to your advantage. He’s a quick learner; give him a chance.”

"You've got it, bossman. One thing, though: If he comes back in a box, don't come hunting for my head. You won't have to hunt very hard seeing as how I'll be in the next box over, but I frown very heavily upon corpse desecration."

“Noted,” Titus replied with a smirk that he couldn’t help. Even Braden found the man’s surprisingly facetious response to be amusing. “Alright. We drop in one hour. Both of you need to get ready.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine
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#, as written by Gunneh
Sentry cheacked over the controls one last time before he strapped his safety into place across his chest. The Hammerhead was online and ready to go, but that didn't ease his nerves in the slightest: His first op with the Vindicator and he was basically starting a full-on war. He sighed and pressed an almost invisible button on the side of his helmet, and a full HUD sprand to life in his view finder, complete with a compass, a link to the Hammerhead's defense systems, and a health monitor that read his own and Braden's vital signs. Everything checked out so far.

"Hammerhead to Viper," Sentry said in a monotone as he fired up the Hammerhead's engines. "How copy?"

“Loud and clear up here, Hammerhead,” Titus’ voice came back over the net.

"Spectacular," Sentry replied, forcing a smile. "How close are we to the drop zone?"

"About three hundred meters, actually," Darcy cut in. "I've brought us in as low as we can go. The hammerhead's thrusters should last long enough to bring you safely down to the surface; so long as you kick them on at one-hundred and fifty meters. Too soon and they'll burn out before you touch down; and too late, and you'll-"

"Land as softly as a feather being dropped onto a goose-down pillow? Why thank you for those kind, reassuring words of encouragement, Darcy my boy. I'm so glad that you wouldn't say something that would, oh I dunno, scare the kid half to death and/or make me wet myself in my new armour."

"You are most certainly welcome, kind sir," Darcy replied. "I do what I can. Mother always told me I was a giver. Two hundred meters."

Sentry looked over at Braden and nodded. "How're you feeling, boy-o?"

The kid looked back at him from one of the haptic interfaces inside the cramped piloting compartment. His face was pale, but he put on a defying smile and replied, "Fine!" He instantly glanced back at the terminal when he realized that he didn't need to yell it as loud as he did.

"Shit," Sentry said in mock surprise. "The kid's excited about work. Titus, where can I find more of him and what do you think a good price for them would be on the slave market?"

"Ooh," Darcy interjected. "That's tasteless and hilarious. I like this guy."

There was a pause on the net before Titus' voice came back over. "Braden... he didn't know...," he said slowly in a manner meant to calm someone down from bashing another's face into a bulkhead.

"Didn't know what," Sentry asked, looking over at Braden. The kid was staring at a fixed position on the wall of the Hammerhead with enough intensity that he could have melted a hole through the steel. And that's when it clicked in Sentry's mind.

"Oh. My. God. I am soooooo sorry," he pleaded. "Braden, dude, I had no idea and I just started and-"

"One hundred fifty meters," Darcy interrupted. "Green light."

"Thank you, Darcy," Sentry said sternly. His hands moved quickly around the console and the Hammerhead's thrusters burst to life, slowing their descent. "Braden, I'll tell you what: When we get back, I'll buy you a beer. Wait, how old are you? Nevermind. A cupcake. I'll buy you the best damned cupcake you've ever eaten."

The Hammerhead lurched a bit as they bumped into the planets surface a bit before the hoverjets shoved them back into the air. "Hammerhead to Viper, we've just touched down. Proceeding to target area."

"Roger, Hammerhead," Titus responded. "Stay safe."

"Aye, aye, commander," Sentry replied. "See you boys on the flipside."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine Character Portrait: EDI
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#, as written by Gunneh
Sentry urged the Hammerhead forward, weaving in and out of cover as best he could to avoid the artillery fire that was raining down around it. He cut a glance over to Braden and smirked at the sight of the boy clutching the Avenger to his chest as though it were a teddy bear or a shield that would keep the bad things away.

"Hammerhead to Viper," Sentry called out. "Mark those towers for us, please. Shit's already starting to go to hell down here and I'm not fond of the idea of getting lost in a warzone."

"Uploading the data to you now, Sentry," EDI replied to him. "There are four GARDIAN defense towers in all, each with its own power source located close by. My scans are picking up increased movement within the perimeter, and three Mako tanks are moving to intercept."

"Thanks for the good news, EDI," Sentry replied. He held the course steady as they crested a small hill and the entirety of the base was shown to them, along with the three Mako tanks that had taken up defensive positions near the western wall of the compound where Sentry was supposed to bring the Hammerhead through.

"The ride's going to get pretty bumpy from here on out, kid," Sentry said to Braden. "I've piloted one of these things quite a few times, though, so I know what I'm doing. The main thing I need from you is to not panic. I'm not going to let these assholes have the honor of killing us." Braden nodded and loosened his grip on the Avenger. "Good deal. Now let's have some fun."

Sentry hammered on the boost and the Hammerhead shot towards the compound like greased lightning. One of the Makos fired and Sentry swerved hard to the left, knowing full well that Braden's eyes were glued to the sight of the shell striking the snow where they'd just been moments before. Another tank fired and he zagged to the right, feeling the shake from the shell exploding into the earth somewhere to his left. His eyes darted to the guage on the console that displayed the amount of boost that the hovertank had before it needed to recharge, noted its dwindling levels and kicked the boosters on.

The Hammerhead shot into the air and soared over the Makos and whatever ground troops had shown up to support the tanks. He heard bullets pinging off of the armored hull and smirked to himself. He forced his full attention back to the console in front of him andspun the Hammerhead in the direction of the closest defense tower, kicking the boosters back on at full force to slow their descent.

Two Mako shells crisscrossed over the Hammerhead as Sentry pushed the hovertank through whatever gaps he could find, dodging troops, bullets, and GARDIAN shells alike. The VI rang out in a warning as a Mako pulled into line behind him. It fired, the shell slamming into the wall nearest the Hammerhead, showering the vehicle with debris from the blast. It fired again. This time the shell struck the ground just behind the Hammerhead and the explosion shook the hovertank hard, but Sentry steadied the controls and hit the boost again and shot off across the compound to the first GARDIAN power station.

"Just swing through," he said to himself as he neared the power station and swung the Hammerhead broadside, letting it float along parallel to the outer wall.

"Light the power supply up-"

He fired the Hammerhead's main gun several times in succession.

"-and then swing out around the back."

He drifted the vehicle around the back as EDI said something about one tower being offline. One single Mako was heading straight for the Hammerhead, and the driver seemed hell-bent on not changing his course. The tanks main gun fired and Sentry swerved to miss it. It fired again and the Hammerhead narrowly avoided the strike. Sentry's eyes darted up and across the compound and saqw the GARDIAN's moving for another shot. He looked over to Braden and then back at the Mako careening towards them. Someone had to move first, but not yet.

WARNING, the VI shouted, COLLISION IMMINENT.

"That's almost the plan, Sparky," Sentry mumbled. The Mako and Hammerhead were mere feet away from each other now. He saw Braden wince out of the corner of his eye, the boy bracing for impact.

And then Sentry swerved out of the way, missing the tank by inches. The Mako made a sharp move to try and follow the Hammerhead, but the GARDIAN shell that just been fired at the targeted Hammerhead struck the Mako instead.

"EDI," Sentry shouted as he shot off toward the next power station, "tell Titus that he owes me a beer for making that fucking trick work."

"Why don't you tell him yourself, Valentine," Titus replied. "Get the rest of the op done with that kind of style and we'll talk about it."

Sentry laughed and took the rest of the towers with a surprising amount of extra confidence. Even Braden had lost what little fear he'd had in his eyes and was now sporting what Sentry and Titus would have probably deemed a decent war face. Sentry wheeled the Hammerhead back around towards the western side of the compound where they had entered and began the long trek back to the exfil point.

"Hammerhead to Viper," Sentry said. "Prepare for exfil. ETA is ten minutes."

"Copy that, Hammerhead," Darcy replied.

"Good work, guys," Titus added. "Get back here some you can get some res-"

An explosion rocked the Hammeread and all the consoles flickered and then went dark. The hovertank dropped from its low altitude and jolted its two passengers around quite a bit, but when the movement stopped, Sentry was out of his seat and climbing through the emergency hatch. There was a decent sized chunk of the Hammerhead's outer hull missing and sparks shot out of the gash.

"Fuck," Sentry said to himself before opening his com to everyone. "Mayday. Hamerhead to Viper. We've been hit and we're experiencing some minor difficulties."

"What kind of minor difficulties," Titus asked, his voice more panicked than it had been moments before.

"A whole mess of critical system failures," Sentry replied as the bullets started pinging off the Hammerhead. He took cover as quick as he could and pulled the ML-77 rocket launcher from over shoulder. "Seems we happened to forget that there were two other Mako's on our tail because they had their heads shoved in the sand so well."

"Can you fix it," Titus asked. Sentry looked over at the gash for a second before a bullet whirred past his face and he darted back into cover.

"I can, but it'll leave us really uncovered while I get it done," he replied as he poked his head out of cover long enough to fire two rockets, each of them slamming into their respective Mako targets that had taken up a defensive position a few yards away. "I'd say...fifteen minutes, minimum."

"Get to it, Valentine."

"Aye aye, sir," Sentry replied as he tchrew down a combat drone and a sentry turret. "Braden, give me some cover fire. If you get into the shit, let me know."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson
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As soon as Sentry vaulted up and out of the Hammerhead, Braden grabbed his rifle and unbuckled the harness around him. The barrel of his Avenger popped up out of the access hatch immediately after Sentry’s boots were out of the way. It would be his second time to actually use the gun against Aurora troopers, and this time they would be firing back at him. The young man took a deep breath and steadied his aim as he brought the sights up to his first target. When he exhaled, he paused his breathing and squeezed the trigger for a brief second. A short controlled burst of mass accelerated rounds pummeled the soldier square in his chest. The barriers absorbed the rounds, but Braden could tell by the electrical arcs around him that its strength was failing.

The second burst of rounds ensured the barriers were no longer a problem, and final punctured the soldier’s chest before he could stumble behind cover. Two soldiers later, Braden glanced around to take a look at Sentry’s progress. The man was busy applying what had to be Omni-gel to the damaged and exposed electronics just inside the Hammerhead’s hull. Sentry glanced up and, with a shocked expression, yelled, “Hey! Eyes on the fight, kid!”

Slightly annoyed, but nonetheless determined to obey, Braden spun back around in the hatch and concentrated his focus on the task at hand: protecting Sentry while he worked his engineering magic. More soldiers came pouring out of the woodwork within the base, all sprinting at full speed in a desperate attempt to overwhelm the helpless Cerberus attackers. The majority of them were running past a large supply platform, complete with crates, Helium-3 drums, and what were the unmistakable silhouettes of several combustible containers. Thinking fast, Braden brought the sights over to the containers and let loose with several more bursts from the triggers. It took several rounds, but he finally got the right puncture to do the trick. The resulting explosion sent more than a dozen Aurora troopers flying in every direction away from the concussive blast.

Braden smiled to himself as he admired the carnage, but his attention was quickly drawn to the lone figure about sixty or seventy meters to the left of the Hammerhead’s position. He didn’t need to look twice to recognize a missile launcher. The single trooper had used the distracting horde of his fellow comrades to his advantage and managed to flank Braden and Sentry. Braden glanced back to the devastation he had caused to make sure no one else was running for them from that direction, before he vaulted out of the hatch completely and jumped down into the snow. Despite the inner warmth his enviro-suit offered, he still felt a shiver of cold running along his spine whenever his boots pounded onto Noveria’s frozen surface.

“Sentry!” he yelled. “I’ll be right back!”

“WHAT?!” the man bellowed, even though he kept working on the damage.

Braden broke into the fastest run he could manage in the tall blanket of snow and ice. The trooper had yet to fire his missile, and with Braden closing in so quickly, he wouldn’t get the chance. As the teen approached the platform the trooper was using as a height advantage, he lowered the launcher and reached for his Striker sidearm. With only ten meters between him and the trooper, the teen charged up as much biotic energy as he could while running and channeled it into a mass effect field around his body, decreasing his personal mass. This allowed him to move faster, being as light as feather and virtually unhindered by the elements around him.

The man fired his pistol too late and Braden was well clear of the round’s path. Before his opponent could even register what had happened, the teenager struck the side of his hand hand down on his wrist, effectively disarming him. The biotic used the elbow of the same arm and jabbed downward into the man’s gut, forcing him to buckle forward and stumbled back. Braden then refocused the energy forging the mass effect field around him, releasing it into a devastating, channeled pulse from his palm, pointed toward the dazed the rocket trooper. The man was hurdled nearly thirty yards across the ground until his helmet slammed into the bulkhead of one of the structures, either killing him or simply incapacitating him; either way, Braden was simply thankful he did all of that in the nick of time.

As he rushed back to the Hammerhead, he felt a slight dizziness in his head, but it strangely wasn’t that hindering. After that kind of biotic display, someone his age would have definitely fainted, but something was different. He felt stronger, more stable, more
 energetic. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline, or maybe it was the training he had done with Villayn and the gradual increase of his own use of biotics. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it.

Braden ran up to the Hammerhead and jumped up to the hatch on top. As he settled in, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed the Avenger off its magnetic clip. “Sentry; how’re we doing?!” He glanced around to find the engineer. To his terror, the man was nowhere to be found. A second later, he felt a rough hand grab at his leg inside the hatch, and he practically jumped high enough to actually land outside the hover tank again. Only when he glanced down inside to see Sentry’s laughing face below him did he relax.




Janis sat comfortably in the white arm chair centered directly in front of the Operator’s desk, with legs crossed and hands holding up one of the newer data pad models. The entire body of the pad was an atomized haptic interface, braced and projected by all four sides of a light, black-polished alloy frame. It wasn’t has cheesy looking, or nearly as heavy and bulky, as the old key-input data pads the rest of the galaxy was still using. This one was convenient, longer-lasting, and – best of all – Alliance-manufactured. Agent Freeman loved to study other species, even loved making friends with them, but in the end, he was definitely the pro-human type; though he was careful to keep his personal prejudices personal.

The blue screen on the pad projected all sorts of information gathered on Cerberus by Oracle. Being one of the organization’s top information analysts, he already knew everything his eyes were scanning across, but it never hurt to refresh one’s memory; especially before an assignment as crucial as the one he was about to given by the Operator.

Sibyl Carson finished sending off the e-mail she had busied herself with composing while Agent Freeman brushed up on his Cerberus knowledge using her data pad. After ensuring the proper digital signature was attached, she tapped the send button on her screen and sat back in her chair. It was just the two of them in her office... her large, all-white office. It was difficult to tell, unless you were really looking, where the floor met the walls and the walls met the ceiling. Even the Operator’s desk and executive chair were white. The only colors that stood out were the clothes on their backs and the blue haptic interfaces on her desk and arrayed behind her in a series of three, large screens. Each of the large projections displayed a multitude of data about the galaxy: Oracle mission taskings, Citadel-sanctioned operations, inter-stellar stock ratings, even activity in the Terminus. None of this really awed Janis, however. He had been in the Operator’s office nearly a hundred times by now. Oracle’s headquarters was practically his second home – even out of the four hundred and thirty-eight Oracle safe houses in the galaxy (or the four hundred and thirty-eight that he knew of, anyway).

“Find anything new?” Sibyl asked after a while.

Janis rubbed his chain before tapping the standby button on the edge of the pad’s frame, shutting off the haptic interface to save power. “Nope,” he said, returning the hollowed pad to the Operator’s desk. “Nothing I don’t already know. Our friend, the Illusive Man, is keeping his secrets close these days. He’s making it increasingly difficult to gather inside information.”

“Yes, but with Omni Cell’s recent activity, we may finally have a chance at breaking that pattern.”

“I’m listening.”

Sibyl stood up from behind her desk and walked over to gaze at the center screen behind her, propping an elbow on an open palm and tapping her chin. “The Illusive Man may never let his guard down, but his followers are becoming increasingly careless. I have a
 contact onboard one of their vessels; the Vindicator. He’s an old friend, but definitely a Cerberus loyalist.”

“You want to use him?”

“I’d rather have you do the using, Agent Freeman,” she said, turning her head to look at Janis through her peripheral. “There will come a time where he’s going to realize that he’s on the wrong side; and hopefully that time will be soon. When this realization occurs, he’s going to need our help. And you’ll be the one to offer that help. I’ll have Prophet forward you all the necessary information and mission parameters later.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Janis stood up from the chair, bowed slightly as any customary gentleman would, and then turned to leave.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine
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#, as written by Gunneh
"I like the new trick," Sentry said with a smile. "Remind me never to piss you off, alright?" Braden smiled in response, sank into the Hammerhead completely, and strapped himself into his seat. Sentry could tell that the charge had wiped the young man out, so he tapped away at the console as quick as he could and sent the Hammerhead racing off in the direction of the exfil point. He could hear the base's raid sirens echoing behind them and all he could do was smile to himself.

"Hammerhead to Viper," Sentry said as he looked over the consoles one more time to make sure that everything had stabilized back to almost its regular levels, "we're approaching the exfil point now. Get her in as close as you can because I'm not running on enough energy to make an Olympic sized leap in this thing."

"You got it, boss," Darcy replied. "I'm coming in low. Just, please, don't scuff the paint."

"I don't really give a rat's ass if he scuffs the paint or not," Titus' voice rang out. "Just get back on here in one piece, Valentine. There's been enough excitement for today."

"You're fuckinay right about that, sir," Sentry replied with a laugh.

**************


The cabin that Sentry had been given aboard the Vindicator looked basrely lived in: The walls weren't adorned with any kind of personal pictures, there were no books strewn across his desk, no clothes visible except for the ones he had on. There was only one thing that hadn't been in the cabin at the time of his move, and that was a picture frame on the bedside stand that held a photograph of a brunette woman.

Sentry tore his eyes away from the picture and looked down at the black and red leather jacket that covered his stout torso. His fingers slid across an embroidered N7 emblem on the chest and his eyes closed. He heard the door slide open somewhere ehind him and his eyes snapped open, his gaze caught once again on the picture.

"She's very pretty," he heard Titus say from behind him. "Yours?"

"She was, yeah," Sentry replied after a short silence, though his eyes never left the picture. "Every time I get back breathing from a mission, I always come back to my room and apologise over and over and over to her for not getting her out of there safely. I think she forgives me, but I just can't stop."

"What happened," Titus asked.

"Bad shit," Sentry replied, his gaze falling back to the N7 logo on his chest. "Really bad shit. Reason why I left the Alliance kind of shit. Reason why I never thought I'd wear this jacket again kind of shit."

"Sounds like a story," Titus replied as he moved forward and took a seat on the edge of Sentry's desk. "Care to talk about it?"

Sentry half-smiled and stood from his bunk, turning to his commanding officer. "Maybe some other time, sir. How's Braden doing?" Titus stood from the desk and the corners of his mouth tugged into a smirk. Sentry could tell how proud he was of the boy just from hearing his name.

"He's fine. The kid's in his room taking a well-deserved nap. I would say 'thanks for looking out for him, down there', but it seems he was the one looking out for you." Titus smiled to himself and he paced over to one of the windows in Sentry's quarters and stared into the passing abyss, beyond the blue emissions caused by the FTL speed.

"This is very true," Sentry said with a chuckle. "The boy's strong, Titus. I've never seen a biotic his age that could charge, and I've met maybe a handful of older biotics that could charge that far and that fast without passing out."

The commander nodded and replied, "Mr. Reynolds is equipped with the experimental L5x implants. While they're not the type designed for hard, fast strikes; they can up the biotic output of their user. His amps also came from the Ascension Project. So Braden has had a lot of money put into his training. Its only expected that he perform so well. But I want to be sure he's capable of doing more than just throwing his enemies around without touching them. I need him caught up to speed on everything else a good Cerberus operative needs to know. Captain Azuric Villayn - that turian in the blue armor you've seen walking around here - is training the boy in CQB. I'd like you to instruct him on how to properly handle and maintain his own weapon systems." Titus turned to face the man with a commissioning look. "Can you handle that?"

"Seems like a simple enough task, so I think I'm your man," Sentry replied with a nod. "Pick a time and send him to the armory. I'd be much obliged if we could hold out on it till tomorrow, though, if it's all the same to you."

"Very well, then. Expect him in your armory tomorrow at 0800 hours." Titus turned and started for the door, as he stepped in between the threshold, he glanced back at Sentry and added, "And Valentine... if you ever need to talk, I have an open door policy." The commander left it at that and stepped back into the corridor to allow the door to slide shut completely.

The setting changes from Noveria to The Vindicator

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine Character Portrait: EDI
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#, as written by Gunneh
Well, in a neat little town they call Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound
Many an hours sweet happiness, have I spent in that neat little town
A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band .


Sentry swayed along with the music as it poured from the computer console in the corner of the room, cradling an M-8 Avenger assault rifle in his arms as if it were a newborn baby. The swaying soon turned into what could only barely be described as a waltz, and the assault rifle became a dancing partner. The dance became more intricate as the music continued, with Sentry spinnng and swaying along to the melody. As then chorus kicked in, Sentry brought the barrel of the gun up to his lips and sang along with the music:

Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band.


"What the...?"

"Holy Christ," Sentry exclaimed. Braden's voice caused him to jolt and the Avenger slipped from his grip, but he moved with an almost inhuman speed and caught the assault rifle, ejected the thermal clip from the weapon, and caught the clip in his left hand. He turned to look at Braden and laughed heartily at the boy's expression.

"Sorry, Braden," he said as he laid the weapon on a nearby table with the thermal clip beside it. "I forgot what time it was. I was just getting some work done, you see."

"And practicing unsafe weapon procedure," EDI added.

"Yes," he added. "And practicing unsafe weapon procedure. First lesson: Don't dance with your weapon and/or sing into the barrel like a microphone. For one, it could get you hurt, and two, it makes you look like a jackass."

"Agreed, Operative Valentine," EDI replied.

"Hush, woman," Sentry chuckled. "I didn't hear you complaining during the performance." Valentine focused his attention back onto Braden and smiled. "What's going on, big man? You look confused."

"Just wondering what kind of... music... that was," Braden replied.

"It's a traditional Irish song called The Black Velvet Band," Sentry said with a smile. "See, I'm a spacer. I was born and raised on Alliance stations and Alliance ships, but my mother and father, they were both from Dublin. My father was an engineer who was extremely grounded in all of Ireland's history, especially the music, and my mother was a nurse who was a little more 'with the times' than my father happened to be."

Sentry brought his arm up and his Omni-Tool sprang to life. He tapped a few buttons on the interface and the music started playing again, only at a lower volume this time.

"I was raised almost the same way wither of them had been raised, and I was brought up with a lot of the traditional things from back home," he continued. "Especially the music. I know it's a lot different than anything you might've ever heard, but I love it."

"Only music I really know is the club and trance played on Omega...," Braden said, casting his eyes across some of the weapon racks to distract himself from what appeared to be a creeping thought.

"Looks like there's a story there," Sentry said with a soft smile as he noted Braden's expression. "We'll get to that another time. Till then, let's get to teaching you about shooty things, kay?"

And the lesson began.

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.