Mass Effect: Project Seraph

[Rashuad-012]

The band had dismissed themselves to elsewhere, more or less. As Krusk prepared himself to exit, he was just in time to spot one more suspicious looking human walk into the room. He sensed she was slightly confused, but the quickly faded into her conversation, and that was enough to tell him he was not needed. In fact it appeared everyone aboard the ship present some sense of independence; some had it a bit more boldly than others compared to the captain. With the way some spoke to him it seemed they knew not what it meant to work under orders and respect authority. It was something to think about in the next few moments when they come under fire.

Krusk retired back to the med-deck on the third floor, his claimed whereabouts, and immediately began prepping his weapons for the on coming mission. With each piece of hardware in his hand, he listed his equipment at his disposal. Frag Grenades, recon mines, detonation charges, three crates of thermal clips, his M-8 Avenger Assault Rifle, two pairs of Phalanx pistols, and one Black Widow assault rifle he recieved from the council as a celebratory gift for initiation in several more days. It was not loaded, there were no clips in the crate, and with good reason. Krusk had smuggled the crate on board before entering his deep sleep of solipism, in case he'd need it. Thankfully, he had a feeling things would be more close quarters.

He mounted the sniper rifle on the eastern wall just above the lab lights where it shined beautifully, with his reflection bouncing off the N7 insignia marked on the scope. It was like staring into the future of whatever may lay ahead, and seeing nothing but greatness. Krusk closed his eyes and felt a wave of pride wash over him, a clean sweep of proven worth as he released it all in a breath before moving to take a seat.

 

[Renegade Proxy]

Enjoying the spectacle that came with watching the variety pack that was their team, the quarian nevertheless had duties to contend with. Quietly he pushed away from the bulkhead, omni-tool fading as he filed away pertinent information for their impending voyage. Without a word he left the briefing room behind, exit punctuated by the mechanical hiss and click of its portal. With that little inconvenience wholly taken care of the rest of this fine vessel was now open for exploration, the need to familiarize himself with its hardware a constant itch in his mind. A short lift ride later and engineering unrolled before him, the hum of engines held at the ready pulsing through his feet and on up into the deepest reaches of his chest. Like a child in the womb the quarian felt overwhelming comfort and a warmth entirely separate from the controlled climate of his suit.

Far more time passed than was proper before he finally emerged, the grin behind his visor wide enough to split him at the ears. Oh yes, the Navarra's hardware was exactly what he had expected, a few notes handed off to the engineers down below that should press out a small but meaningful boost in her operation. Already his mind was buzzing with alterations, a list of parts scrolling behind his eyes to be snatched up if ever the chance presented itself. Surely the powers that be wouldn't mind any alterations if they served the success of their mission. Arriving in the cockpit Zuor settled right in, keying the comm as he swiveled about and began preparations for their departure.

"Takeoff in ten minutes," switching to Citadel channels their intention was made known, the affirmative coming moments later. "All personnel, make preparations for departure."

 

[Insidious Joe]

Back inside his quarters, the Turian spectre was sitting at the terminal on his desk once again. It seemed like he would be glued to this damn thing whenever he wasn't executing the mission orders that came down from the Council.

Galaetrus opened up the needed programs in rapid succession, most notably his private link to the Spectre network, where he pulled up the files of new squad members that had just shown up. His eyes, strained with fatigue to the point where they burned slightly when closed, rapidly scanning portfolios while inputting information into his omni-tool regarding the mission specs.

Once he had everything handled, he sent the specs out to update the entire squad's own tool so they all had references about the details. Galaetrus touched on the intercom for deck communication, his voice ringing out to those crew in the hangar. He ordered them to start prepping the supplies they'd need, namely the thermal environment suits, food, water, and extra thermal clips. They acknowledged the request with a quick yessir and he lifted his hand off the intercom, swiveling around in his hoverchair at the sound of the elevator.

With a flick, the terminal closed down. While he didn't necessary distrust the squad, it had information only his eyes were to see. Galaetrus stood, moving to unlock the door to his cabin before stepping further inside the room where he kept his armor on display whenever he wasn't wearing it, picking up the helmet that completed his armor. His fingers ran across the smooth, cold glass as he waited to be approached by whomever decided they needed to speak with him.

 

[May Fair]

"Enough to know you do your research well," Seleem said slowly, curious by the Reteck woman's demeanor. The salarian continued to glance at the human with interest before it was abruptly interrupted, the captain's voice filling the room. She bobbed her head at the order, already taking count of what she had stocked in her room, and then left as soon as Ky'yn cut out. Without a word or gesture to the others, she left for the elevator.

 

[Raimei]

Roslyn nodded before leaving also, walking to the elevator and taking it to the floor of her quarters, once there she unlocked the door and got to bed.

(sorry for the short posts but this is via phone and I'm short on time)

 

[Cerulean]

As the elevator doors opened, Marcus could feel his body shiver slightly and his shoulders shifted a bit before he readjusted himself. Stepping off he tilted his head until the neck cracked and both sides. The vanguard slipped into the room. Noise was intentionally made to make sure the captain knew that there was now another person in the room. He immediately stood at attention, when the authority came into view. "Sir. Gunnery Chief Marcus Lattimore King. I would like to show initiative and respect by coming up here to apologize for missing some of the meeting. I am sure my file is extensive with my history of--" He twitches again. "Medical things and stuff. Rest assured, I won't miss our next meeting. Assuming we come out of this crap alive."

In that moment, his mind ran rampaged with a image of them all trying to shoot their way out of a shit monster's stomach. His eyes grew wide, as his mind made him smell shit and the ground suddenly like it was squishing bowels. He quickly shook his head and blinked quickly to snap himself out of it. "The jist of why I am here is to apologize, sir. I am not sure how the Turian military works, but I was hoping that it wouldn't be out of protocol to be an adult and come talk to you, like a person." He was speaking somewhat quickly and even let out a breath and waited for his response...and probably punishment. The young man would it the best he could.

 

[May Fair]

With another nod of the salarian's head, another affirmation to an unseen voice, it was official; the reality of the mission closed around her. The rare snippets knowledge -- more accurately, the lack of information -- on Cerberus drummed a heavy beat against her nerves; it made her itch. Seleem felt again for the sniper rifle, its weight shifting as she double-checked the weapon's accessibility before quietly moving on down to her pistol. Secure. But was she?

Tel left the room with her omni-tool brightly lit, her fingers hovering over temptation. Strike first, and without warning. Information was scarce, she reasoned. Hacking protected files stored on the captain's terminal came with the job, she argued weakly with herself. Okay, it wasn't, she admitted, but she didn't like this sense of foreboding settling in her gut. Indecision and moral scruples didn't often cloud her judgement, and now she had a choice: betray the captain's (and, by default, the team's) trust or did she give herself permission to search through the secure line, therefore feeling more secure about what laid ahead? She frowned, going over the argument for a fourth time.

With quick movements, she shut it down. No, she would have to have faith, a rarity in the salarian's line of work as the thought of pressing a few simple keys clung to her restless fingers. Instead, Seleem passed several doors and attempted to learn the layout of the SSV Navarra, a distraction that wasn't proving helpful.

 

[Lannis]

Mehara exited the meeting room as the other team members seemed to be slowly trailing out. She wandered the ship a while, simply walking around and famalirizing herself with the layout. Other members of her profession would simply memorize a map, but Mehara had found that it was much more effective for her to actually see the locations.

She eventually made her way to the room she had been assigned. She walked in, locking the door behind her, and looked around. Several trunks of varying sizes were lying in the room, the largest of which she knew to be empty. That was the case that held her M-97 Viper in the rare instances that the rifle was not strapped to her back. Out of habit, she looked through her belongings to make sure nothing was missing. She didn't suspect that anyone had taken anything, but it never hurt to be too careful.

Her hand paused as her eyes landed on the form of a battered pistol, one she no longer used, not after-

He looks at me, face twisted in fear and pain.
Blood seeps out of his wounds, crimson on black and teal.
A gunshot.
He falls back, silent.
I close his eyes.

When the memory ended, Mehara found herself bent over the pistol, arms quivering and hands clentched. In a display of emotion that was becoming much less rare that it should have been, she picked up the pistol and hurled it at the nearest wall. It connected with loud clang before clattering to the floor.

 

[Hirohashi]

With the captain's orders came an abrupt end to the chit-chat of the crew. In sync with the others Elana responded with an enthusiastic "Yes, sir!" before turning away from the conversation. Along with the rest of her new team, Elana left the meeting in order to prepare herself for the task at hand. With the press of a button the Asari was brought to the appropriate floor, finding her room and securing the door behind herself. It was smaller than her place she had on the Citadel, but it was certainly less run down looking. Everything was new, glistening with reflected light. Many of her belongings were already set up to meet her requests, most notably the photo of her parents resting by her bed. An asari matron and a drell, her father. Elana's father may have already been dead, but her mother was nearly in her matriarch years. She was a strong willed woman and Elana wanted her to reach that high point of her life. This fight was for her.

In a closed storage locker she found her armor, light and made for ease of maneuverability but with weaker shielding. That was what her biotics were for. Her barriers weren't too shabby. They've kept her alive this long as a part of Eclipse and later as freelance on the station, hadn't they? With a few setting modifications it was all set to keep her warm on their first mission. Well, warm enough at any rate.

Once her gear was fitted, she took to looking over her weapons. A standard issue M-8 Avenger, easy to use and reliable in damn near any engagement. After ensuring all of the parts were clean, she set it aside to work on her M-5 Phalanx. It may not fire as fast as the M-3 Predator, but each shot packed a bit more punch. It was also empty. The last time she used it she had spent the thermal clip and had neglected to place a new one inside. There wasn't really time, what with that damn batarian closing in with that nasty omni-gauntlet of theirs. One biotic throw later and he was flung rag-dolling into the presidium lake where the authorities captured him. C-Sec wasn't too happy with her, on account of the drinking water needing to be re-purified all over again as a result. Still, the memory brought a smile to her blue lips. The look on his face was priceless when he found himself careening in the opposite direction. With a small laugh, she inserted a fresh clip before stepping back outside of her room. No sense in staying cooped up.

_____________________________________________________________

Nathan's guns were in prime condition, practically like new. After a quick inventory check on his spare clips, he secured his Viper rifle to his back and the Phalanx pistol to his waist. He was ready quite early and with some more time to kill, the lieutenant took at seat at his terminal. With a single button press his holo-screen lit up, a small chime playing as the device powered itself on. With a serious look on his face, Nathan looked through his messages. Two new messages? A glint of hope, however small that it may have been from one of his family members welled in his chest. The first was nothing but a confirmation that his supplies had been delivered aboard the Navarra. With a sarcastic turn of his head to look around his room, he sighed. That much he already knew. The second was recent. From Galaetrus about the specifics of their mission. There was little new information, but it couldn't hurt to go over all of the little details one more time.

Next the N7 looked through any news associated with Horizon. There was a disappointing lack of new information. Nothing about troop deployments, or a list of casualties. The Alliance was up to their eyeballs in other problems. Either they were too busy to update the lists now or worse, contact was lost with the planet. That thought alone made his skin crawl. Not only had Bethany not responded to his messages after returning home, both the rest of his family still lived there and they were not answering him either. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Nathan knew his duty. Personal priorities came after the security of the entire galaxy.

Lowering his head, Nathan closed his eyes and pressed against his temples with his index and center fingers. After a few deep breaths he turned off the console before getting back to his feet. It was time to work, not be emotional. After a quick glance back at his N7 plaque to remind himself of all of the painful lessons, he steeled himself for what would have to be done. First Cerberus, then the Reapers. After that he could finally go home to look for his own family.

... Or what remained of them.

 

[Insidious Joe]

Many memories were made with the armor that he bore; loss of comrades, the cliche saving of the day. It had stuck with him throughout his 'career' as a Cabalite. It had long since been refurbished and improved, but in his mind's eye he could vividly remember the damage, the scorch marks and dented plating, the cracks in his visor's helmet where a thermal round nearly took his life.

Galaetrus turned the helmet over in his hands twice more, listening to Marcus address him and mention an apology for being tardy. He set the helmet back in its secure display case and turned to face the human N7. Lacking the physiological features of a more defined race, it was hard to immediately tell of their emotions beyond the subtle differences in their eyes.

Closing the distance between them, Galaetrus came to a stop at arm's length; "This vessel contains a crew comprised of the galaxy's elite. Males and females from all branches of military service have come to carry out the Council's will. I don't run this like a Turian ship- but I do run it off of mutual respect, honor, and accountability."

It was another one of his tirades. By now, the squadron should be well-aware that he was long-winded when it came to giving speeches of a sort. He'd likely do well in politics if he didn't bear the stigma of the Cabal.

"That being said, I approve that you took the time to come up here and present yourself. It shows discipline. However, this could have been avoided if you took this seriously. We are not here to play games, we are here to save lives. For every minute you slacked off, there were others being crushed under the proverbial heel of the Reaper and Cerberus threat."

Not a single muscle twitched out of place as Galaetrus stared Marcus down with his words set to kill. The flanging of his voice dissipated from the air for only a few moments before he continued. "In short, it would be appreciated if you kept to your promise here today, from here on out. I've sent your omni-tool the specs that you missed about the briefing. And about your medical... issues, I'm well aware. I can't say I agree with the judgment of the Council, but you're apart of us nonetheless. I want you to have frequent check-ups with the doctors on-board, and be sure to take your medication."

After drilling Marcus, the Turian Spectre seemed to unbind and relax. "Any questions?"

 

[Cerulean]

His eyes focused intently, rivaling the Turian. Galaetrus had his own reasons for the stare down, but Marcus was making a personal mental note to sate curiosity. The helmet didn't look like that was the design it started with. He guessed it had many repairs and was most definitely a significant possession of his. Unfortunately, as soon as the helmet went away, so did the game. Which meant that the classic, higher rank thrashing was set to begin.

Hm. Oddly enough, the speech sounded more of a disappointed father than anything else. It was rather surprising to not have someone in his face. He still twitched slightly, when he mentioned taking his meds. Damn you. He understood seeing the doctor, but taking his meds made him feel like such a mindless drone. He passed over the "I don't think you should be here." speel, because the first time he heard that was several ranks and training ago. As far as he was concerned, the spectre will just be another person that would be delighted to have him around. At least, he did appreciate him coming up here anyway. All in all, it was a good chat.

"No sir." He said, saluting.

 

[Renegade Proxy]

"...all boards are green. Releasing docking clamps."

Around the ship, a gentle dip in the floor signaled their freedom. As Zuor took the controls he guided the Navarra's bulk free, letting the Citadel fall away. Open space spun out in front of him, a small pressure of wrists and digits casting the Citadel from its center. As the Mass relay came into view he poured on the speed, taking them into an arc that would see them passing parallel to its length. With their intentions known the great machine burst to life, reaching out an arching tendril of white-blue that engulfed the ship, flinging it away in a fading streak that gave way to spatial black. A check and double check of systems ensured their precision, comms were linked for mission relay. Everything seemed perfect.

Keying intership comm channels, he called out the all-clear. "We've passed through the Relay, on course to destination."

The silence that stretched between his report and authoritative response stretched forever in his thoughts. The planet they were headed toward was hostile in every sense of the term, the weather perhaps more so than the wildlife. That cut scanners right out, the need for accurate information hindered already by placement. Whoever they were after they planned well and would be dug in deep. Radio emissions briefly asserted themselves and the idea struck. It would be interesting to see if their leader had more input, the gathering of bodies below further attempting to catch this elusive thread.

For now, the quarian laid all speculation aside, letting hands and mind drift back to the ship.