[IC] Mass Effect: Spectre Strike Force

[Vandy]

Galen and Claire

Claire's opinion of Galen - what was his title, anyway? - was darting up and down like an photon trapped in an oscillator. Turning up drunk, stinking in booze was not a great start, but dismissing the Council like that was a ballsy move, and one she appreciated; that Asari could have probably gone on for another twenty minutes. The mission orders were ultimately irrelevant; they were for her commander, not her, and the details that she was going to need would be given to her as and when they were pertinent.

As it was, she had enough on her plate without worrying about non-specific briefings. She gave a crisp salute, said "Aye, sir," before turning on her heels and marching towards the waiting crew outside the council hall. If any of them knew what they were about to get into, they probably would have hidden, or run away - no such luck for these poor buggers. When she emerged, Claire was wearing the steely, stern face that she had used on a thousand training exercises, and the air was positively electric as she began to speak.

"ATTEN-TION!" Instantly, nearly two hundred faces turned in her direction, turning on the spot in the manner their various militaries had trained them. Damn - I've no idea if these aliens are following drill. I guess I've got some reading to do. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am Major Moore, and while you are serving aboard the Normandy I will know everything ye do. I will be watching when y'eat. I will be watching when ye sleep. I will be watching when you're getting off whatever parts of yer anatomy nature has seen fit to give ye, an' if I am unhappy, I will make you unhappy! If you work hard, follow your orders, an' leave your thinking t' officers above you, I will be happy, which means you will be happy! When you have a problem, you come to me, because God 'elp ye if I 'ear about it from anyone else. Am I understood?" No response came. "Aye or nae?" Again, nothing. Evidently none of the crew had ever been to God's Own County. “YES - OR - NO?!” This time it got through - a resounding ‘Yes’ came back, and Claire got about the task of shepherding these buggers to the Normandy. “FORM - THREE - FILES!” After a few seconds of awkward shuffling, they got it done, although seeing the krogan queued up behind a rather short quarian was pretty damn amusing.

Galen found it amusing as the old human woman yelled at the soldiers. "Good job, major hard ass." He said with a cocky smile. The major's face said it all, she didn't like that. "I think the robot arm scares them." Once he was sure that she was thoroughly annoyed he put his hand forward. "After you." Hotstepping down the stairs towards the column, Claire took her position at the head of the line and barked, “WHEEL - RIGHT!” They did so, and the line was pointed towards the rather long other way to the Normandy - up the stairs. “FORWARD - DOUBLE TIME!” With that, the company set off at a jog, following the whining of the Major’s leg. Twenty minutes and an eternity of stairs later, they were finally flooding into the Normandy, and as much as she wanted to remain distant and professional, Claire couldn’t help but be overwhelmed.

She was a beauty; sleek design, larger than the previous two, and the history practically oozed from her like ions out of an engine port; when she finally put her foot aboard ship, it was like stepping across a canyon a mile across into an entirely different universe. The artificial lighting, the slight rumble of the engines’ vibration, it all made her feel terribly out-of-place: Claire was a groundpounder, a crawler, a mud warrior, and being aboard any ship - let alone one with such a history - shook her nerves to pieces. “Get t’yer stations, I want us ready to leave in ten minutes! If we’re not prepared t’ get int’ big black when I get back I’m going t’ start busting heads!” With that, she turned on her heels from the command position at the back of the Turian-style console and made her way towards the Captain’s quarters. Galen had to admit he was impressed by Claire's show of authority. He left her to her duties and walked to the back of the CIC to the elevator behind the colorful galaxy map. The inside of the ship was a beauty, it let off a human style blue tint that solidified its claim to be a successor of the first Normadies.

"Welcome aboard the Normady SR-3 Captain Kaiser. I am the Spectre Artificial Defense Intelligence, SADI to organics." A female synthesized voice proclaimed over the nearest intercom to Galen.

"I see we get our own AI, I was wondering if they had included one." Galen spoke back feeling kind of silly speaking to a voice with no body.

"Yes, I am specialized for cyber warfare and.."

"Yeah, I don't care. Just keep us alive during a fight." Galen cut off the synthetic voice.

"Yes Captain." If an AI could be annoyed, SADI didn't show it. Galen entered the Normandy's main elevator and rode it up to the Captains Cabin. He smiled when the door to the cabin slid open and the blue luminescent light from the aquarium lit up the room. It had been designed as an exact replica of Shepard's original room, it even had a pre-built model of the SR-3 hanging on the glass display wall. The knocking interrupted Galen as he soaked in the history of his room. He let out a loud sigh that he was sure his visitor would hear from the other side of the door. He turned and opened the door to see the half burnt face of his XO.

“Sir, a word,” said Claire, with about as little patience as she could muster without being overtly rude.

"Yes major, what is it?" Uninvited, Claire stepped into the Turian's room, and had he not been a goliath compared to her, at that moment, one might almost have thought she was going to beat seven bells out of him. As it was, maybe that wasn't quite so far from the truth.

"Sir, I'll be brief. However you choose to conduct your own life is your own business, but while we're on t' same boat, the men and women on here are my responsibility, and I will not allow their safety or t' mission t' be compromised by you..." It was impossible for her to hide her disgust at this point. "...and your rampant alcoholism. Now listen t' me, sir, because I'll not repeat myself. If I find you drunk on duty again, I will personally kick your arse, have you confined to quarters, turn this boat around and dump you back at whichever hole in the Presidium you crawled out of, and I'll make sure y' never serve on anything more important than a toilet." Through all of this, her voice remained calm, measured, as though the parts of her brain choosing which words came out of her mouth were completely disconnected with the part that worked how just how they were going to be said. "Anything else, sir?"

Galen stared in silence at his XO for a few seconds. His mandibles twitched in anger as he stepped forward until he was almost touching her. He blew a breath out of his nostrils onto the top of her head as he stood over her. "You think you're tough shit don't you?" Galen said with a growl. "You want to know why I drink? For ten years I served in the Turian military and I never failed a mission. I was an officer that entire time so you can bet your synthetic ass that I know what I'm doing." He paused before stepping away from the major. "A few years ago my best friend's ship was destroyed in a battle with some Cultist terrorists. He died. Then my pregnant wife, his sister, killed herself. So I'll be damned if I let some old ass human bitch second guess me before we have even landed on our first mission!"Then Galen took a deep breath before grabbing a bottle of brandy that the council had left for him next to his private terminal. He popped the cap off and took a long swig. "Make sure you get your information right before you make yourself look like an ass." He said before taking an even longer drink. "Why don't you write that in your damned notebook?"

To say Claire was disappointed was an understatement - personal insults aside, he was letting other things get in the way of his professional judgement, and while her heart went out to him, there was no place for sentimentality. Perhaps he never got over it - perhaps he just needed some time to grieve, but that wasn't forthcoming - there were people depending on him, and pickling his liver was not the way to go about operating a successful vessel. "Sir..." Claire caught herself. More than anything she wanted to tear this stupid man's mandibles off and make him memorize every name in 'that damned notebook', but if he wasn't going to be a professional, she had to be. "I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you making excuses for putting my people at risk. I don't care what yer past record is, sir, I care about what's going t'happen, and you haven't filled me with confidence. As far as t'rest of t'crew are concerned, this conversation never happened, but I meant what I said, sir. I suggest you ask yourself whether your wife an' bairn would approve." Without waiting for a reply, Claire gave a crisp salute, turned on her heels, and marched out, grinding her teeth as she went. "Stupid squidface," she muttered, as she returned to the command deck - the crew were doing their best to get everything running, and if they knew the state their commander was in...well, they didn't need to. They had enough troubles without that adding to their backs. Straightening her beret, Claire slid her notebook into the large pocket on her fatigue trousers and held her arms behind her back.

You're not going to add a name today, Claire. Not today.

That, at least, brought the steel-haired veteran a little comfort.

Galen watched her as she left. For a second he felt like apologizing, then he took another drink.

"SADI." He said after putting his bottle down.

"Yes Captain."

"Tell the pilot to set a course for Skal'kus. And get that damned Salarian up here, I need to know what we're flying into."

[shadowkiller912]

Silly Cybin said
Syral passed through the airlock relatively quickly, humming a tune he only half-remembered, wearing his N7 leather jacket, 'military casual' look that he'd sort of naturally slipped into as his life had passed by. She was an impressive boat; larger than the previous Normandy, which was larger than the original. He breathed in, idly thinking about how he hadn't breathed fresh air in roughly two weeks, his schedule having him hop from one space installation to the next without much R&R time in-between.He found his modest quarters, situated on the the second floor down, a large glass panel the only thing separating him from the ominously huge engine core. He'd been studying the history and layout of the previous Normandies in his off-hours; where the crew resided, where the useful rooms were, even the inter-crew dynamics in a disturbing amount of detail. He wondered if his social life would become a facet of history. He unpacked his clothes into his locker and started playing some 21st Century Earth music he'd found on the extranet a few years ago; he'd become quite a snob for pre-contact Earth culture, it was entertainingly small-picture, something which relaxed him.After stashing an emergency pistol in a shoe-box in his locker, he decided it was time to go make history and have an idle conversation. It was this moment he realised he hadn't touched alcohol for what seemed like a year, Galen having reminded him that alcohol could actually play a part on his life to some degree. He walked from his quarters, ignoring the map and trying to get as lost as possible. He eventually managed to find the bar after forty-five minutes of wandering and a ten minute conversation with the ship's cook, who seemed amiable. He at one point mentioned cooking a big Dextro-Amino suitable meal for him that evening, and in the interest of not dying of internal combustion Syral politely mentioned that Drell were Levo-Amino based lifeforms. The cook looked embarrassed and promised to read over the personnel files again.Syral walked to the bar, waiting for a bartender before he realised it was a free-to-take situation. He identified the colour of bottle usually reserved for Levo-Amino alcohol and poured himself a large drink, knocking it back in one swig. He turned and noticed one of his crewmates sat on a fairly luxurious looking sofa. Syral thought to himself, wandering over in her direction."Naomi, isn't it? I've been looking over the files" He said casually, sitting on the arm of the sofa furthest from her, appreciating approaching a female in a bar in any culture seemed like a come-on. He tried to maintain an air of professionalism, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. He looked wistfully in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck. "Spectre Naomi, I am Spectre Syral Kiera. As a Spectre it's nice to meet another Spectre on this Spectre ship on this Spectre operation" He turned, smiling wryly, "Sorry, can you tell I'm excited?"

Naomi noticed the Drell man wander around. He's handsome. He eventually took a seat on the other arm and talked to her. Naomi was quite interested. Especially how he was an N7, due to his jacket.

"Nice to meet you Syral.>

Naomi gave a small laugh. "I can tell your excited. Oh and Nice jacket by the way" as she pointed at his chest. I see you were from Alliance Special Forces." Evaded a lot of them back then.

Naomi waited for the Drell to respond, to advance the conversation.

[Leodiensian]

"Better than your ugly-ass face. Sir." Harken smirked back as the drunken Turian staggered past. Harken was a touch concerned when he first encountered his commander. He worked spec ops long enough to smell trouble coming. Someone like this Galen, a drinker and someone who clearly attacked every authority figure he encountered - being pushed into a high-danger situation, like messing around with Krogans, by the authorities who clearly didn't like him? This was beginning to sound more and more like the Council were trying to get Galen to commit 'suicide by Krogan'. He just really hoped Galen wasn't the kind of guy to commit suicide with a lot of collateral damage.. Well, anyway. Time to get his stuff and get out.

Galen's apartment was paid for by C-Sec, but since he was leaving that would be running out and damn soon - plenty of new recruits and even seasoned officers needed accommodation. He packed a light bag and arranged to have the rest put in storage or sold off, giving himself a little time to take one last look over the curving Presidium waterways. This place had been really nice. A shame he spent so long undercover, in shoddy Wards rubbing shoulders with gangsters and mercs. It was peaceful here, even if that peace was an expensive illusion.

His omni-tool beeped, an incoming message. A small holographic display of Councilor Vakarain popped up, but it must have been a fairly tightly encrypted channel, where the holo-representation had some layering issues and showed the entirety of the councilor's eyeballs through his transparent head and his voice crackled a little. "Councilor. Something you forgot?"

"No. Something I couldn't say in public.You've probably figured out that the Skal'kus situation is extremely sensitive and that your commander is most definitely not sensitive." Harken rolled his eyes in a 'well, obviously' fashion. Vakarian continued. "We can't afford another Krogan Rebellion, Calibos. The Krogan may not have had much time to repopulate after the Genophage, but they're still a formidable threat to galactic peace if they decide to be."

"You're worried Galen will do something stupid." Harken cut ahead a little in the conversation - he had a ship to catch, after all.

"I'm worried he'll do something catastrophic. The other councilors think his renegade attitude will appeal to the Krogans, fit their culture and social values. That might even be right. But if it isn't, you need to be prepared to take whatever steps necessary to prevent things from getting out of hand." A pregnant moment hung in the air between them, before Vakarian restated, slowly and carefully. "Whatever. It. Takes."

Harken hefted a duffle bag of his belongings onto his shoulder, looking at the door. "I'll do what I can, sir. But I'm not sure why you're coming to me about this."

"Because I know you can make it look like an accident, mechanical failure or natural causes. Because I know about what you and your squad did on Agessia."

Harken stiffened and tapped the communication closed. And today had been going so well. He turned and stalked out of the apartment without another word, down to the loading bay where the Normandy and the rest of the new Spectres awaited. His personal room was near the engines, which he didn't quite like in case something really catastrophic happened while he was sleeping, but he supposed he just had to trust in the other people around him. He had enough technical training to chip in if need be, he supposed, though most of his mechanical and electronic was... well, not in how to keep the ship running in tip-top condition. Quite the opposite in fact. After that, he began pacing the ship to learn the corners of it, the routes and the gathering-points, the quiet places and the shadows. Along the way, he happened to catch sight of the human woman, Claire, coming the other way. He affected a jovial manner as he came past. "Alright love?" he gave his best Northerner. "What's occurin'?"

[jbeil]

Returning the salute to the Creator, Phalanx watched as the male Quarian left before stepping into the ship. "It appears joke was successful. Initiate laughter. Ha. Ha. Ha." the Geth unit said, though it's laughter didn't really sound like a laugh with its synthetic voice and wording the way to laugh. Still, the synthetic ship AI known as SADI responded in what one may assume to be a playful manner.

"Sheer luck was in your favor." she spoke mildly.

Deciding to set a place for itself, Phalanx took the ship elevator to the Crews Quarters. All the while it examined what the Normandy SR3 had to offer. One would expect a Geth to head to the engine or the AI core, but instead Phalanx went to the Starboard Observation. A giant wall sized window being the single thing separating Phalanx from the voids of space. Beside the window was a sofa and a desk, in which Phalanx gingerly set the box it had been carrying on top of it.

"I thought the Geth had no use for windows?" Came the synthetic female voice of SADI as the ship AI questioned the choice of room.

Pondering this for a moment, Phalanx only gave a nod. "Affirmative. Geth do not find use of windows. Organics seem to find it interesting however, so investigation is in order." came the brief reply from the mobile platform! though there was slightly more to it. There was that reason, and there was the reason with a old friend. It was illogical, but she would have wanted to be in this particular room out of any other.

After setting down one of the few personal items Phalanx had, the Geth unit decided to resume examination of the ship, as well as perhaps greet its fellow Spectres. Best place to meet was the Command Center, considering most of the organics would be around there for any further command by Galen-Commander. Making its way to the Command Center, Phalanx briefly paused as it watched the crew hurriedly get to work. Most avoiding the Geth unit all together. Well, mostly the humans really.

It then spotted one of the human female Spectre's named Major Claire Moore. Phalanx found itself not really wishing to say the name... It sounded too much like another but it ignored any silly illogical misgivings and walked up to her. Giving a human salute before bowing politely. Without waiting for a response, Claire turned hard on her heels and returned the salute, in almost mechanical fashion. The irony was not lost on her.

"Greetings Major Claire Moore, Alias Flatcap." Phalanx greeted as friendly as a synthetic could sound. Deciding to with hold information of her other nickname and age. Female organics don't seem to like to mention age, so it kept with name only.

"I am Phalanx. Status acknowledged. It is pleasant to be working with a capable soldier." Receiving praise like that was a pleasant change in pace from dealing with an alcoholic turian who was intent on letting his crew die rather than deal with his own personal problems, though staring into that flashlight was harsh on Claire's eyes. If she was honest with herself, she probably had about a thousand questions to ask, but time wasn't going to stretch to allow all of them.
"I appreciate t' complement. I've never met a Geth before - are y'familiar with t'concept of 'Executive Officer'? If y'eve any sort of problem, logistical, issues w' yer commanding officer, or emotional, y'can come t'me w'it and we'll sort t'out. In return, follow y'orders to best of y'ability an' we'll get on fine." Claire paused for a moment, before letting her natural curiosity get the better of her. "Do geth - I mean, t'geth in front o'me - experience emotion?"

Listening to the human woman speaking, Phalanx noticed the slight trouble the human had making eye contact so it silently lowered the brightness function in its glass eye so it was comfortably dim. At the question about if the Geth unit had knowledge on what a Executive Officer is, it nodded in the organic manner to show that it understood. "Affirmative. Executive Officers are ones holding the position in second-command next to the Commander. Studies on human culture has been made.. Quite interesting." It spoke to show that it was knowledgable before pausing at the next question. So far, this human did not seem to realize the difference with the I, so she probably truly didn't know much about the Geth. Not too surprising, humans knew that the Geth once did quite horrible things to the organic humans over fifty years ago during the time Shepard-Commander discovered the Reapers, but little of the culture.Though the question Claire-Major decided to ask was a common question asked by organics. Sadly, it was a question Phalanx couldn't quite accurately respond. "I understand organic emotions and how organics respond to them, but I lack proper knowledge of natural experience. This one wishes it so, but the opinion is for others to decide. Other Geth find the notion illogical and organics fear the idea," it answered as best as it could, but it probably didn't answer the question fully.Deciding that it would ask its own question, the mobile AI looked at the Major. "Claire-Major, a question. What do human organic emotions feel like in your natural experience?" It asked, having tended to ask human organics this question mostly. Humans tended to be more of the emotional part of organics, so perhaps they had a better grasp on it.

"That's...that's a broad question, lad." Claire brought up a hand to scratch the burnt side of her face before folding them back across her chest, leaning back a little, looking into the distance, weighing up the question and the possible answers. "I can' only speak t'my own experience, but...I don' know how t'answer ye, lad. I assume y'see t'world as information, like a computer or summat? I...I don'. T'human experience is more analog than owt else - we still get t'same input as y' - heat, light, an' such - but we don' think of it in terms o' raw data. S'more like we...compare everything we receive t'what we've already experienced, an' based on 'at, w' come t'conclusion. F'example, I see you, bu' I don' think of y' just as 'Phalanx', a body wit' a series o' statistics. Yer taller than I am, I've no idea how old y'are, an' a thousand other little things affect m'emotional analysis of y' - I'm a bit scared, 'cause peo- organics, sorry - they're generally scared o' unknown. M'a bit sad, 'cause y' can' feel in t'same way as t'rest o' crew, which y'know, seems unfortunate. Overall, I'm interested in y' more than anythin' else - do y' see? There's lots o' little emotions, which add up t'an overall picture. Sometimes that picture's agreeable. Other times, I...well, t'aint always rosy. D'you understand? M'afraid I'm no' terrible articulate-like."

Silently, Phalanx listened to the Major's words as the organic attempted to explain what human emotions were like. It was a hard question it knew, but it was interested in the field. As Claire-Major finished, the Geth unit paused as it processed the information it received. "I believe I understand. Emotions are complicated, difficult to replicate by mere synthetic use. I have a better understanding now then went online during the Geth War. The events that transpired, I didn't react... but now this unit believes in trying to understand. Calculations on what emotions are like to a synthetic like me. Gratitude is offered and appreciation for your wise words. Perhaps we could learn from one another as we work together?" Phalanx spoke, revealing when its memories started and how old it truly was. It did hope to learn to be a bit like a organic, and be friends with its fellow crewmates. They said the best way to learn was through comrades, in which Phalanx had lacked for many years.

Claire couldn't stop herself from laughing - nobody had described her as 'wise' yet, and with a friendly slap of Phalanx's shoulder, the clang of metal on metal followed by another laugh, before she coughed herself back into sensibility and shot a look at the few crewmen who thought it clever to look over towards the chortling officer. "If y'like, lad, if y'like." Had her grasp of history been a little better, she might have raised an eyebrow at just how old Phalanx was, but scholarship was a poor choice of weapon. "I suppose I'll not see y'in t'officer's mess? I'd suggest y'come even if y'don't eat - espirit de corps an' all that." At the laughter and friendly smack the Geth platform tilted its head to the right ever so slightly. The metal flaps surrounding the glass eye parting slightly upward. Perhaps a little attempt to a expresion of a smile. It didn't quite understand what was funny, it had thought it made a compliment but it was satisfied that it could make the Major laugh. At the mention of the mess hall, Phalanx slowly nodded again.

"Acknowledged. I will take your advice and attend there. I understand that in human culture, it is rude to not eat while others are consuming. I shall attempt this to settle organic nerves. Much appreciated. Hope we speak once more." Phalanx spoke before seeing the other Turian Spectre approach. "Greetings." It greeted before saluting then bowing to the two of them politely before making its way to the mess hall. Eyebrow raised, the Major turned to face Harken, the turian wearing her home's colours. He had a fair approximation of her own accent, which must have been hard, given the alien nature of his face - still, she was hardly going to take cheek like that from anyone - Spectres they might be, and so they were equals, but she was probably old enough to be his mother. Maybe. Depends if turians produce sprogs as quickly as we do. Certainly wouldn't be old enough to be a very well-prepared mother, though. "Less o' t' 'love', yer cheeky sod," she half-joked, "or I might 'ave t' come oop there an' give y' a firm telling off!" Despite herself, Claire found herself smirking - compared to Galen, this turian was a saint, and infinitely more likeable. "Where y'off to?"

[Leodiensian]

"Just getting the lay of the land, stretchin' me legs and that." Harken smiled a little - quite a human gesture, and one it had taken him a bit of time getting used to. Turians evolved from bird-like predators, animals that used their teeth as weapons - so showing your teeth was more a sign of aggression, a declaration of intent. Apparently humans had evolved from hairy social primates, who used the gesture as a kind of 'everything's fine' expression. He turned to the Geth - Phalanx, he heard, but he'd not had the time to go through all the dossiers just yet - and gave it a nod. He wasn't sure exactly sure what kind of social etiquette sentient computer programs used, if any. Hopefully just a little basic decency would do. "Hey." He also smiled to the Geth as it headed off.

The two of them were basically stood in the middle of a fairly busy thoroughfare and with people trying to get through, standing and flapping their various forms of mandibles was going to be something of an inconvenience. "Shall we go somewhere and talk? I think the line crew are beginning to see us as roadblocks." He of course has an ulterior motive for this kind of thing. From what he could tell about Claire, she was the kind of person that would find Galen worrying, like Harken did. It would be useful to make a friend in this if things got harsh..

[jbeil]

"Sorry, Harken - t'is Harken, ain't it? XO's place is on deck 'til relieved. I'll sure I'll find y' on t'mess when day's done. I expect t'hear why y've t'Union Jack on yer face." With that, she gave a crisp salute, turned on her heels, and headed back towards the bridge. As much as she would have preferred to find out sooner rather than later why the flag was splashed over the turian's face, she had a job to do; someone had to keep this boat running, and since it clearly wasn't going to be Galen, it fell to her to do it. Beating a hasty pace back to the bridge, the major took a position patrolling up and down the control panels, occasionally tapping a crewman on the shoulder and asking a few questions, feigning understanding, and moving on. All this technobabble was not her forte - perhaps Phalanx might be able to give her a few lessons during downtime. "All stations, 'port in. We ready t'go?" The refrain 'aye, ma'am' or something similar rounded through the bridge before she rushed back to the commander's control panel and opened a channel to his quarters - that much, at least, she could do, with the very helpfully labelled 'Commander's Quarters' button in blue light, shimmering off the projected controls.

"Sir, we're ready t'go on y'order. In yer own time," she intoned, as polite and deferent as she could manage, knowing what she did about that blaggard in charge. In your own sweet bloody time.

[Frettzo]

Ken

Ken'Koris was elated, and should have anyone asked him why he was so happy, he would have said that he had achieved one of his dreams, thank you very much. He walked out of an elevator in a confident pace, looking the world, or rather, the ship's metallic walls and crew, in the face. He nodded and voiced his greetings to his fellow soldiers and engineers as he passed them by, carrying his humble bag while his opaque face mask shone a soft, blue light upon his face.

His face mask's interface would let him know the danger level of the surrounding atmosphere and would keep him on the loop about his comrades' vital signals while on mission. But he wasn't looking at such features right now, keelah he wasn't! Because now, he was headed towards a small room he had heard about, deep in the bowels of the ship. It was supposed to be somewhat clean, but he didn't care much about that. What he cared about, was the noise that was perpetually heard in it. Due to its close location to the ship's engines, a soft humming was always heard, not to mention the chatter of the engineers on shift.

Such features were enough to sell the room to him, a Quarian who was accustomed to constant background noise and crowded situations. And while the ship's crew was numerous, it still felt somewhat... Empty. He hadn't visited the Command Center yet, but the Engine Deck wasn't very crowded. It was to be expected, of course, but it was always uncomfortable at first.

So after a mere minute of walking around and asking for directions, he reached to room. Small, with a single bunk bed, a small footlocker, a shelf and a restroom. Not much room to walk around, but Ken liked that. Reminded him of his recruit days back at the Quarian Navy.

He had set his bag down on the shelf and sat down on the lower bunk bed himself, activating his omnitool. After meeting the, in his opinion, extremely advanced Geth, he was getting curious about who the rest of his team was. He had seen his CO already, so there were quite a bit more to check. At the very least, he wanted to get their names and faces straight in his mind.

The soft humming of the engines were briefly drowned out as Ken'Koris heard the door to his room open and quick feet stepping inside, before stopping altogether. This sudden interruption was welcome, and Ken looked up with a smile at the newcomer- And just a quickly he was speechless. As his eyes traveled up the stranger's body, he noticed that the stranger was actually a female, and a female Quarian at that. She had quite a beautiful shape and form at first glance, and her suit's soft and dulled green decorative fabric just added to her appeal. But that wasn't all there was to her. Her posture was shy and apologetic, and Ken could pretty much feel a blush underneath her face mask.

He was quick to stutter and attempt to stand up, hitting his head with the upper bunk bed's frame as he did so, "Ouch- Uh, I mean... Hello, my name is Ken'Koris vas Yaska, wha-"

"I'm sorry, I-I'll go find another room." She quickly said, accent just as clear as Ken'Koris', rubbing her fingers together before turning around, only to be stopped by Ken as he grabbed her forearm.

"Come here for the noise, huh? Well... There's two beds. Say, you can keep the footlocker, and I'll keep the shelf."

The offer apparently appealed to her, as she stopped and turned around. Ken could see her bright eyes look at his, and he did his best to smile, and have the expression not be lost behind the face mask's damned glow.

"Sure, my name's Aela'Bekk vas Moreh. It's nice to meet you, Ken'Koris." She said softly, her posture relaxing slightly and moving over to the footlocker to put inside some of her personal effects.

After a few moments, Aela'Bekk climbed up onto her bed and activated her omni-tool. Presumably to listen to some music, but it was impossible to know. Soon enough, Ken'Koris remembered he had a job to do, and as such, he stood up and waved goodbye to Aela, who responded similarly. "I've got to go do some gun maintenance at the arsenal, see you later, Aela'Bekk." He said with a smile as he disappeared out the door.

[Weyr]

Mads Tao didn't see the Galen Kaiser on the loading dock so he made his way on to the Normandy. The ship was buzzing with activity. The ship crew calibrating sensors and the communications array and you could feel the hum of the FTL drive in the floor of the ship. He bushed passed the crewman on the CIC and found the elevator. First he made his way down to the cargo deck and armory where noticed several lockers against the hull, one has his name engraved on the small tag. He blacked his gear inside and locker when he heard a voice

"Greetings Mads Tao" an atrificial voice greeted him.

"Ah, ship's AI" Mads like most salarians was happy to have a AI on board. Useful technology with unparalleled cyberware fare capabilities, among many other useful traits.

"You may call me SADI."

"Could you tell me the location of the commanding officer?"

"Galen Kaiser is in his quarters on Deck 1. He has Just finishing a meeting with Major Moore."

"SADI could you inform him I am bringing a briefing on Skal'kuls"

"Certainly." And the autonomous voice disapeared from the cabin. As Mads turned and made his way back to the elevator and hit the command for Deck 1.
I'll put the next part right here because I'm on my phone and still ms hour away from my house.

Galen was busy putting his personal items in a locker that sat on the port side of the room when SADI informed him that Mads was on his way. "Thank you SADI." He pulled out his crimson painted Mattock slow firing assault rifle and secured it into a black gun cabinet.

"Sir we're ready t'go on y'order. In yer own time." Came the major's voice over the intercom. Galen could see past he false respectful attitude but let it slide. He figured he had done enough to piss off his second in command.

"Already gave the order major, we should be lifting off..." Galen was cut off by a shutter as the ship's pilot began to take off. "Right now. You see I'm not as useless as you thought." He said with a chuckle. "Oh and major, about earlier." Galen paused. "Sorry about that, I assure you that when it matters I won't let the crew down." He surprised himself when the words were out of his mouth. However he did mean them.
Half way up the lift he heard the Major and Kaiser over the loud speaker. 'This is going to be an interesting assignment,' he thought to himself he felt the ship leave the dock. The elevator opened and Mads walked out toward the captains and the door opened as he approached.

Galen was arraigning things in the cabin, Mads approached him and offered him the data pad. "Captain, here is the info I could find on Skal'kus, small garden world located on the fringes of salarian space. Unremarkable agriculture/aquaculture center and small off world mining operation on several of the planets moons. Took shore leave there once. STG base located on small isolated chain of islands. My team dropped Krogan bio samples there once. Research team lead by a Dr. Egan Larus, geneticists."

"What about the military presence? Any nasty surprises we should be worried about?" Galen quickly replied as he turned and accepted the Salarian's datapad. There were paragraphs of information on the planet itself but hardly any on the defenses. "This doctor, what kind of genetics does he work on?"

"STG black ops operation, no direct communication with Command. Generally means these groups are well armed however that's relatively speaking. As for Larus information is... limited. Graduated top of his clas from university at Aegor, graduating thesis Cross Species Genetic Modification. Records indicate that he works in a lab at the university-assuming this is misdirection. Sir, I checked with Salarian Union Military, Recent reports on Krogan blockade... Worrying to say the least. All Krogan vessels built after genophage, 5 cruisers 1 carrier. Have you delt with Krogan before?"

Galen took a minute to process the information. Basically they only knew about the Krogan. It wasn't anything he didn't already know, the Salarian doctor was interesting however.
"Yeah, I've got history with the Krogan. Whether that's a good or a bad thing depends on who's in charge of that blockade." Galen walked back over to his desk where he set his bottle down and took a drink. He almost offered Mads a drink and then remembered the difference in amino acids. "In you opinion, do you think there's anything we don't know about down there?"

"Anything could be going on down there, sir. But STG is working on the genophage that's something that needs to be protected, Krogan dangerous, unpredictable. I'm not saying it needs to be used, but," he paused " comforting to have a contingency plan."

Galen looked at Mads for awhile after he said that. Salarians had always defended the Genophage, most would have flat out said they should use it. While Mads wasn't so ruthless, Galen figured he would use it given the chance. "No, I don't think that's something to defend at all. Our mission is to end the blockade and they left it up to me to decide how to do it." Galen paused to take another drink. "Given the chance I would destroy it, hell we don't even know if this is a legitimate STG operation. Dr. Larus could be a terrorist for all we know."

"Sir, five minutes out from the relay." SADI's voice came over the intercom.

"Mads, we are going into the unknown. We have to assume hostilities from both the Krogan and the Salarians."

"I don't know this Laurus if you don't trust him I could understand, but I do know STG good men, holding the line. And with Krogan always assume hostilities. A healthy Krogan female can clutch 1000 eggs in a year, then live over a 1000 years. Do the math Captain."

"You may be right, but we won't know until we get there." Galen took another look at the data pad and rubbed his head. "You are dismissed Mads."

"I'll be on the bridge at the communications station if you need me," and with that Mads made his way to the CIC.

[Leodiensian]

"Oh, this?" Harken jabbed a talon at the red, white and blue daubed across his mug. "Bit of a Turian thing. Wearing your home colours - like a football shirt." He could have stood there and gabbed with her all day about this stuff, but apparently Claire couldn't. She turned around and started heading off to see Galen so he nodded to her with a "Catch you later, duck."

He headed away from the bridge and down to his quarters. A fairly small area, but it had all he needed. Bed, a carrel desk with integrated computer. Apparently the ship had a shackled AI or something along those lines, which made him a little uncomfortable. Didn't like the thought of being watched at all times. He'd spent too long beingover to the lights, where he arbitrarily decided SADI was coming from. "Now, are you going to leave me alone or am I going to have issues?" There was a pregnant pause and when SADI was silent for long enough, he decided that was good enough and turned off the light. He wanted to get some sleep in before they arrived at the mission. the watcher, having the tables turned was not quite what he had grown used to. "SADI? Could you... turn off, or something?" Spirits, talking to an empty room like this made him feel stupid. Most VIs at least had the politeness to present an avatar projection.

"Do you have something to hide, Major Calibos?" The androgynous voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, modulated artificially to be soothing but ending up as the exact opposite. Was it joking? Was it smart enough to joke?

"No. I'd just rather you do it voluntarily. Otherwise I'd have to furtle around in you and I don't want to accidentally turn off life support. Or lobotomize you." He headed to his water basin and got some water pouring, washing off the markings on his face. The flag smeared at first before pouring off into the bowl, revealing the greyish-brown skin underneath. After patting his face dry, Harken headed over to his cot.

"I must strongly advise against attempts to alter my behavior. My files indicate you do not have the technical training required to undertake such a complicated task. You would endanger everyone on board." Harken slid back onto his bed and swung up his feet and straightened out.

"You'd be surprised what is in my file. You'd be more surprised by what isn't in my file." He glanced

[Silly Cybin]

Syral and Naomi

Syral looked down; he barely even noticed the jacket bore the insignia of the N7, it was one of very few selections of casual clothes he owned. His life used to be occupied in a uniform; a novel concept to the older, wiser Drell. "Greenest soldier in the Alliance, and not in an amateur sense" Renley had called him that his first day, Renley had the uncanny ability to both offend and entertain Syral simultaneously. "It's why I'm here I guess, the Alliance gets to prove they embrace other cultures and the Council gets to keep my pretty little face"

"What about you? What major feat of badassitude got you noticed?" Syral had been wondering what got the others picked; with some it was obvious; the scarred human had clearly seen - and survived - a lot of dangerous stuff. He felt like a rookie again, any of his new squadmates could've done something phenomenal, like saving a planet or riding a thresher-maw into battle. He'd just obeyed orders.
"What got me in here" as Naomi wondered. A lot has actually. Considering the fact she was a member of the NGP. Killed Alliance soldiers back then. Pirates, mercenearies, too much to recount. "My occupation as one the most dangerous Biotic Russian human female she said" boastfully. "Destroyed a Separatist ship carrying civilians. I admit, not very pretty but saved an Alliance star-base from exploding from the amount of explosives the terrorist had on-board their ship. Along with other feats such as killing pirate bosses, well known Mercenaries such as Wilson James, saving people, it goes on."
If Syral had eyebrows he'd have been raising them at that point, some pretty impressive accomplishments. He could tell there was something she wasn't telling him, but he also had things he didn't feel comfortable sharing. "Well, I didn't realise I was speaking to a hero. I've had to sacrifice lives too. It's never pretty, but the good of the mission comes first" He sighed, looking to the floor, "Or at least, that's what I tell myself" He swung his legs over the arm of the sofa, sitting facing Naomi, "So, have you had a chat with our commander yet? I'm kinda hoping we're going to go to our first briefing and find him with a lampshade on his head singing old Turian fight songs"
Naomi could tell Syral was interested in her. Though Naomi wasn't interested in any kind of relationship.

"I expect that also" Naomi said with a small laugh. "It should be interesting working with a Turian drunkard. Though I wonder if he's going to take the job seriously, despite his drinking" as Naomi thought about it. She wondered to herself why the Council chose him as the Commander. Surely their wore better options as Naomi thought to herself.
"Are you familiar with the Earth poet Yeats? He once said 'The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober'. Take it as you will, but I trust a man with his record whilst catatonic a lot more than I'd trust a teetotaller with a history of civilian casualties" Syral looked reflective, the second lids of his eyes opened revealing his amber irises, despite the two occupying the same sofa his eyes looked a million miles away. "Definitely more than I'd trust myself"

Battery acid flowing through my veins as I ran into the underwhelming room containing the overwhelming bomb; my commander screamed at me over the radio, telling me to get it over with and disarm the thing. The fifteenth gunshot crashed around my skull as it played through the PA system; gentle sound of sobbing, a woman. The bomb's interface indicated a lack of time for introspection; working slowly, methodically, the interface turns green; I did it. "Surprise, toad" I heard a voice growl; three more gunshots, two in the upper-back, one through the ankle. Anti-personnel rounds, likely from a pistol. Clean wounds.

Syral shook his head, realising he'd slipped into another memory. "It's been great talking, Naomi, but I have to get some rest. I don't want to be half-awake when I'm getting charged by a Krogan with more anger issues than testicles" He stood, shaking hands with her casually; he could still feel the burning pain where the bullets hit as he made his way out of the bar; one distinct advantage of being a Spectre, his bed wasn't going to be a sheet of metal with a blanket.

[Vandy]

It had been four days after the council meeting before the Normandy reached the edge of the Skal'kus system. The ships pilot, a human named Raymond Fresh kept the ship far out of the Krogan's scanning range to avoid any unwanted complications before the mission even started. In the past few days, Galen had introduced himself to most of the crew. They were an interesting mix, but obviously the most intriguing of the bunch were his fellow Spectres.

The other Spectres sat in the War-Room in a semi-circle around the War Map. A holographic projection showed the planet and the Krogan Blockade in almost perfect detail. Galen let the other Spectres examine the projection for a while before he started the briefing.

"As you can see, the Krogan command ship is slightly larger than the others." Galen pointed at the holograph and it zoomed into the crimson painted Krogan cruiser. "Harken, Claire, and myself will take a shuttle to the ship and speak to the commander." Galen said. He had a very slight hint of alcohol on his breath, he had begun putting brandy in his morning dextro coffee. He had chosen to bring Claire along to the command ship to prove he could do his job. He had been trying to gain her trust over the past few days but doubted he had made any progress.

"Mads, you will take Phalanx, Syral, and Naomi to investigate the secret STG base on the planet. I expect you to follow his orders on the planet." He looked to the Geth, Drell, and female Human before continuing. "Everyone else will go speak to the planetary governor and see if you can't get him to agree to a peaceful solution that I'm sure I'll be able to get from the Krogan." Galen said that part with a little half chuckle but caught himself.

Galen sat down in his chair which was in the center of the semi-circle. He allowed the other Spectres to discuss the mission for a few minutes as he began to plan out his meeting with the Krogan commander. Hopefully he wouldn't have to shoot anyone. Finally he stood up again and quieted the others.

"Now, everyone report to your shuttles. I expect to begin within the hour. Planet teams, you will fly opposite of the Krogan fleet so they don't get to suspicious. In fact I don't want them to know we are here." Galen paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "The Normandy will stay out of Krogan scanning range until either we get an agreement with the Krogan or end up having to shoot our way off the ship."

With that Galen turned to walk out of the War-Room and prepare his gear. The mission was about to start,

[Silver Fox]

During the passed four days, Phalanx had spent time in the Engine Room or AI core or the Starboard Observation. It did attempt to converse with the organics on the ship, but being the only Geth on board pretty much everyone avoided Phalanx. Its fellow Spectre's were more willing to converse but even they held some unease within their hard drive. Still, the Geth Platform was polite to whomever it spoke to, including the Ships AI.

Now it was time for the mission briefing however, and despite how a machine had no use for sitting, it sat in its designated chair with the others. It made organics feel more comfortable if it sat with them so that's what it did. Calculating the Commander's orders, Phalanx slowly nodded about being instructed to follow Mads orders.

"Orders are Acknowledged. Caution is advised for both groups." Phalanx spoke as its glass eh looked to the Drell and human female. It hadn't really gotten to speak to these two yet but it did know of them. After all, Phalanx examined everyone's files. Geth were known to be precise in their information after all.

Standing as the meeting ended, the Geth looked at Syral and Naomi, deciding to speak to them since Phalanx was already equipped for battle. "Greetings. I am looking foreword in our cooperation."

[Silly Cybin]

Syral's face spread into a slight grin as Galen listed his name for the ground-team; he never did like politicians, and he especially disliked politicians who went through an ultra-violent gauntlet of combat as an adolescence ritual. Sneaking around a top-secret STG base? Sounds like a challenge.. Syral thought for a moment, relishing the probable lack of civilians. He was happy to be on a team with Naomi, her being the only crew-mate he'd had a casual conversation with up until this point. Everything had been very professional, surprisingly; he always thought a gig with the Spectres would be all fast ships and intimidating femme-fatales trying to seduce state secrets out of him, but apparently Blasto wasn't the most accurate of icons to model his opinion off. He'd seen every movie roughly four times.

"Shame, I was looking forward to wining and dining with the humongous rage turtles" He lent back in his chair, folding his arms and cocking his head slightly, "Don't worry commander, we shall neither be seen or heard"

He saw the Geth turn its head towards him and he felt an instinctive shiver; he really didn't mind the Geth, when he was in N7 he worked with a few of them guarding high-value cargo to Rannoch, but something about the flash-light eye always rubbed him the wrong way. It felt too clinical. He nodded at it with a carefully practised welcoming smile; he didn't want to make the thing feel unwanted, he found the simple politeness of the Geth quite endearing.

After the meeting adjourned Syral cricked his neck, standing slowly, trying not to strain himself before the mission. "Phalanx, right? Likewise, it's been too long since I've worked with a Geth. The last one saved my life, actually" He paused, checking how long he had to prepare. "So, y'know, no pressure" He smiled, turning to Naomi. "Looks like we've got quite a team here; two lizards, a flashlight and a Russian. I'm sure I've heard a hack stand-up start a joke very similarly. I'm going to go get dangerous, I'll meet you on the transport ship" He saluted them jovially and left the room, making a mental list of the equipment he'd need. Lift Grenades, thermal clips; maybe a sandwich, this mission is too important for me to go hungry It was a testament to how hilarious Syral saw himself as that he made jokes even in internal monologue.

[Frettzo]

Ken'Koris stood in front of the ship's elevator doors, waiting for it to arrive and let him get to the shuttle. How come the others had received the fun jobs, and he was stuck with being a diplomat? He was a soldier, not a politician!

But that was the nature of Spectre Ops. He had come to learn such things. His Spectre training covered some parts of diplomacy, and he had learned a bit, but he knew others could do a much better job. Sighing, Ken'Koris looked at the folder he held in his left hand, and began reading it over carefully. Two documents were in the folder. One regarding Pai Min, his fellow Spectre, and another regarding the Planetary Salarian Governor. He had to find out who this Governor was, did and liked, as Ken'Koris felt that such information was important.

Pai Min's document was also important, and some curiosity gnawed at Ken'Koris, which was strange enough to make him shake his own head. He never read his team mates' sheets... But practices could change.

Ken'Koris sighed for a second time in a single minute, and stepped into the elevator once it opened its doors. Some others of the crew walked into the elevator with him, but no Spectre. He would have loved it if one of them had entered at the same time as him, just to introduce himself. Heck, he would have loved it if Aela'Bekk made an appearance! But that was his luck. Sent to diplomatic tasks in boring environments with no adrenaline whatsoever.

He sighed a third time, gathering attention from a couple crew members, and the elevator's doors opened, spewing out a bunch of the crew before closing again and finally heading for the deck he needed to be at right now. If he was correct, the shuttle should have some weapons to choose from. He wasn't picky, and even a single Mk-4 Avenger rifle would tickle his fancy, since such admittedly slightly dated weapons were the norm in the Quarian Navy, anyway.

He looked at the single remaining crew member in the Elevator, and with his synthesized voice, spoke.

"Geez, you'd think they'd have built elevators to go faster. Apparently they're slower than ever!"

The turian male, far taller than him, merely shook his head with a light laugh. Silence reigned the Elevator's small atmosphere until the doors opened and they both walked out, splitting ways. The turian disappeared into a group of crew members, who were busy preparing the shuttles for takeoff, and Ken'Koris looked at his transport.

'Whew. Seems like it's a different model than what I'm used to.' He thought, admiring its sleek yet solid looking design. It was a... Professional looking ship, and with some custom paint, it could possibly become a Professional and Quarian looking ship.

[jbeil]

When the briefing was over, Claire was honestly a little surprised that nobody saluted the commander - perhaps it was force of habit, but by the time she stopped herself her hand was already halfway to her head. Getting ready for the operation was no different to any other; suit up, make your peace, and bring a big stick that fired high-explosive persuasion with an under-slung argument winner. Diplomacy wasn't her strong point, but from what she knew of the Krogans, they would be impressed by a woman who had lost half her limbs and kept fighting - or, perhaps they'd see her as week, kill the party, and the civil war would rage on. Ho hum - that was the commander's area. Until they hit combat, reluctant as she was to place her fate into the hands of a drunken Turian with a dangerous ship and a prickly temper, the last few days had taught her that it was easier to let it go. If something went wrong in the field, with any luck he'd take a few to the face and not get back up, and Claire would be able to at least get the crew home. It won't come to that, Claire told herself, you're on board. No fucker in the universe is mad enough to try and pick a fight with you and expect to win it. It was a lie, and not even a convincing lie; by the time the major had strapped herself into her heavy field armour she had forgotten trying to delude herself and decided to focus on just keeping calm and carrying on.

Two heavy pistols certainly helped, as did the slug-throwing rifle mag-clipped to her back. In a few places, the heavy ceramic plates of her armour were dented or scorched, but mostly their light grey surface was undamaged, while the soft hum of the built-in shields gave her a quiet reassurance that if the worst came to the worst, she could last about a minute under heavy fire without cover. That was also a lie, but not one Claire was uncomfortable with; for all her doubts about Galen, her own leadership, and the fact that she expected half of the faces she'd come to know already to be gone before the operation was over, the major knew how to kick arse, and whether it was alien arse, human arse, or some sort of bizarre plant-arse, she'd get the job done. Holding her helmet in her hands, facing her, she looked over the visor, with a stylised flag of St.George emblazoned on the front - probably not a good idea for infiltration, but she was here to provide firepower, not sneaking around. As she clipped it on, the HUD beeped into life and a series of blue panels lit up inside the helmet, feeding her information on her vitals, sensor readouts, ammunition counts; all the information the modern soldier could need.

Nothing left but to trust me luck now, she mused, as she made her way to the launch shuttle. It's got to change eventually.