The Cannibal turned it’s head to a peculiar sound. It screeched and moaned at the stranger, threateningly clawing at it. A little piece of non-huskified brain inside of it recognised the stranger for what it was. A Batarian. A proud four-eyed race, one that they were once apart of. They remembered the love and pride they had whenever it’s name was spoken. The Hegemony. The mighty people under the powerful government. What were they before this emptiness? Were they Batarian? Were they Human? What is a Turian? These last independent thoughts struggled to be realised, the huskification hitting harder and harder. Extreme pain was felt, it’s only release was the stranger’s death. They ran but as they ran they remembered something. A fleeting last thought in the independent’s mind, something so utterly useless that it was deemed too mundane for the huskification to repress. Did the new Blasto movie come out?
Ja’Far emptied the last thermal clip of his Incisor into a charging Cannibal, the last of the previous group of husks, downing it with one last burst before the gun overheated. He released a sigh before scratching his upper brow, desperately needing a cigar. The temptation was great, frustration building in him as searing pain and endless waves of enemies grated into his patience. He kept his discipline however, folding his rifle away as a group of husks were heading in his direction. He armed himself for close combat, bringing out his knife and Carnifex before marching towards them. His breathing was ragged and his steps were not in time but he kept the look of a model soldier, heading towards the group as they were in the way between him and his destination. He came into contact with them soon enough.
Blood sprayed onto synth-material, dripping all over the metal properties of an armoured torso. Ja'Far grimaced as he twisted his knife into the husk's gut before pushing the creature off his knife. The movement opened the cuts on his back even more, making him twitch automatically. The injuries worsened with every movement, cuts opening further and further as he charged forward back into cover. He parried a swing at him with his right arm before pummelling the offender with pistol strikes to the head and torso. His left hand held his knife, eviscerating another husk's throat as it charged against him. More green liquid covered his arm, hoping that none of the poisonous blood got through to the cuts on him back.
The Boogeyman slashed, stabbed and shot his way through a small crowd of half-a-dozen husks, covering himself in enemy gore. He shot the last husk in the head, emptying the last round in his Carnifex before slumping against a crate a little separated from the crates Taskforce Katabasis used for cover, breathing hard. He looked like a mess. Bits of synthetic flesh stuck to his armour, some of the greenish enemy blood mixed with his own, dripping down his body. He tried to calm himself, heart rate increasing rapidly as he bled more and more. He muttered prayer under his breath, reloading his Carnifex as more husks approached his isolated position. He had finally reached the group but was currently being isolated by the horde as a wounded target. He was going to survive, he was sure of that but in one whole? The open maws of the huskified animated corpses made him unsure.
”Oh holy Divine Pillar of Strength, give miń powerful sword unto me, so that I shalt vanquish miń enemies under thine blessing.” Ja’Far aimed his pistol from his position on the ground, leaning against the crate. He struggled to keep his breathing even but his aim kept true, the shot finding the head of a charging husk. Shot after shot, he downed four husks with one clip’s worth of ammunition, clipping a couple of them on the shoulder. They closed the distance, five husks trying to rip him to shreds. He reloaded as calmly as he could, forcing his shaking hands into control before downing four out of the five, the last one crawling towards him with only one leg. The other lay to the side but the monster kept coming, crawling on the ground, desperate to maim and kill. He kicked it repeatedly in the head, viciously turning it’s head into something similar to a broken human watermelon. He ignored how damp and war his right foot was, retracting it from the lying corpse.
There was a pause, many of the husks avoiding the former Legionnaire, keeping little distance between him and them. This pause in fighting caused the Batarian to look around, seeing how everyone was doing. It seemed as though that many of the Taskforce had been fighting their own battles, some in pairs while others on their lonesome. He briefly compared this to his old squad, how closely they worked together to cover each other's back and how the Taskforce were functioning was almost the exact opposite. He mentally shook his head. They were a young team, some of them didn't know each other. There is no point in criticising team co-ordination so soon. However, as he surveyed the battlefield just as Rykarn aimed for the shot, movement to his right made his head swivel around.
A husk lunged at Ja’Far just as a shockwave tried to sweep everyone off their feet. Thankfully, he stabilised himself with his right arm on the ground but the husk, who was mid air at the time, flew off into the distance. He swore, cursing the younger Krogan for blowing the explosives much too early. The helmet kept him from the dangers of dust but he had to split his legs wide open to avoid debris from the ceiling. Hearing Aegon’s order for a final explosion, he scooched over along the storage container’s edge taking cover on the side that faced away from the entrance. The second blast came just as surrounding husks got to their feet, blowing them away once more. More debris fell, dust covering every surface, some reaching his open wounds. He swore, hoping that none of it actually infected the cuts before attempting to rise to his feet, trying to group up with the Taskforce.
He fell on one knee, the searing white pain on his back proving too much to stand. Another husk crawled towards him, moaning and screeching with spite and malice, it’s legs crushed by heavy debris. It kept reaching towards him, inching closer and closer. With no more thermals, he raised his knife, preparing for a piercing blow on it’s head. A quick stomp ended its life and he raised his eyes to meet a friendly metallic one. He smiled, reaching his hand out as the first of the reinforcements filed into the room.
”Ah, Phalanx. A sight for sore eyes.”Phalanx looked down upon the battered Batarian, its own body a bit on the mangled side as white liquid streamed and dripped from its synthetic form. Still it knelt down a bit with a hand outstretched and grasping the offered hand. Assisting in the organic lifeform back on his feet. The battle had been a quite the unpredictable adventure, but never the less the entire squad seemed to have survived. The explosions caused a little complications with the already current damage the Geth had sustained, but otherwise was filtering the dusty smoke air quite a bit better than its companions.
"I do hope your optical nerves are not further damaged, Ja'Far Balak. Will you require assistance in movement?" it responded as it examined Ja'Far, noting the Batarian had taken quite a few injuries. The others seemed to have sustained damage as well but where handling them well with the assistance of one another.
The renowned Boogeyman huffed, almost unwilling to be helped. However, he stuffed it down and let himself be pulled up by the towering Geth. His pride may be hurt but there was no use crawling out of this little hellhole of an engagement. He looked around as a group of Alliance soldiers, led by someone familiar to Anderson he noted, take down the rest of the surviving husks. With brutal efficiency, they shot them down like a team. He had always respected how the Alliance could work their soldiers. He could see the individual merits of each person in the squad but they worked as one. Teamwork, honed from years of working together in the field. After the Reaper War, every soldier became brothers and sisters. It was nostalgic to look at. Unlike the rabble that presented themselves as Katabasis, these people were a team. He scratched his upper brow before slapping Phalanx on the back, indicating it to move with him.
”C’mon Phalanx, let's get outta here. I think there's gonna be medi-gel outside.” They moved in step with one another, the old gruff Batarian limping next to the mechanical precise marching.
As they walked further and further away from the fighting, Phalanx asked a simple question
”Would you want this platform to carry you, Ja’Far Balak?” as they walked side by side, wrapping a arm around the smaller statured organic to assist in movement. Although it did ask, its calculating eye watched the old Batarian for a moment before both of its arms swooped the organic off his feet into being carried bridal style as it were. He sputtered, surprised at the fluidity of the motion. Some of its white conductive fluid flowing onto its comrade, but Phalanx to appear to mind currently ‘bleeding’ as it carried its comrade in its precise stride. When they reached outside, Phalanx set Ja’Far Balak on a rock to rest upon as some of the Alliance Medics came to assist in treatment. He muttered a little thanks under his breath, the Batarian equivalent of a blush on his face.
Most hesitated as they came upon the Geth however. Uncertainty as the tall mechanical form watched them. Perhaps intimidating to them, but to Phalanx it was just watching them curiously instead of threatenly. Hard to tell when it doesn’t have the same facial structure most organics possess. It was possible they were unsure how to exactly treat a synthetic lifeform. Phalanx was a robot, and most have experience in shooting Geth rather than treating them. However, Geth were made both of metal and synthetic tissue that resembled organic muscle. Omni-Gel was still sufficient in medicating a Geth platform.
Phalanx did moved its omni-tool over its mechanical body in order to assist in repairing its electronics. Watching their Commander speak, the Geth silently listened as Anderson gave the news, both the good and the bad. Phalanx didn’t appear to react, its eye just watchful. Logically, it knew that there was very little choice in the situation. No matter the cost, they had to put an end to the Husk horde or casualties would be even worse. The Geth knew it was possible with the explosives that there would be casualties above. Options were limited however. Despite that, Phalanx’s metal flaps around its eye slightly twitched. Silently listening to the instructions of the meeting place and the time before everyone sort of went about their business.
The soldier who was next to Phalanx seemed to be in meditation. He closed his three eyes and began to mutter prayers under his breath. Curious, the Geth would note. Ja’Far Balak sat in a cross legged position, his arms resting on his knees. It was brief and quick, his eyes however remained closed. A prayer ? A sort of ritual after battle? It averted it’s vision away from the Batarian, remembering that prolonged observation during prayers could cause offense amongst organics.
Normally, Phalanx would follow orders and just wait at the meeting place until it was time to go. It pondered in assisting in the search and rescue, however its presence could make the others nervous and perhaps if it found anyone, bring unneeded stress to them. Turning its eye to Ja’Far Balak, it slightly tilted its head as he began to stand.
”Are you alright Ja’Far Balak?” it questioned
The organic in question raised his eyes to meet the Geth’s, nodding with a sad smile on his face. He didn't know if it could understand the loss or pain of what just happened but he didn't particularly care. He had just finished a Prayer of Salvation for the fallen, a practice he had picked up during his many years as a Legionnaire. After you kill a noble’s child with your bare hands, snapping it’s neck in the crib, you begin to create quirks. Little things you did to alleviate yourself of any sin, wrongdoing or heavy decision. As his old team wasn't here, as they were dead, he had to pray and meditate. The wounds had mostly healed, now reduced to mere scars which would eventually fade away. His grotesque body, scarred in numerous places had shocked the Alliance medics, one of which was hesitant to even treat his injuries. Batarian medicine could be considered vintage compared to the rest of the galaxy.
He spoke in a soft tone, watching the people go by. Concerned onlookers were trying to catch a glimpse of the catastrophe, some crying as they were pushed away. A little human toddler pointed at the rubble, looking up at his tear-filled mother.
”Phalanx, observe. Catastrophe, destruction, pain and loss. Values of miń religion, the Pillars. What miń species stood for. When thy being experiences pain and suffering, thine soul shalt be cleansed for salvation. Thou shalt be awoken to the Afterlife.” The Batarian paused, sighing as he looked down and kicked a piece of bloodied rubble
”It is sin, but I durst to doubt these values this day. Dost thou feel pain, Phalanx?” He looked up, a sad look on his face.
”I do not feel physical pain. You could fire upon me yet there is nothing as the definition of ‘pain’ as organics describe. Only the knowledge that this platform has been damaged and functionality shall be hindered.” Phalanx answered almost instantly to the question before it paused for just a brief moment, its glowing blue eye watchful yet curious. Turning its head slowly towards the aftermath of their mission, the onlookers gazing at the catastrophe. Some crying, others seeming curious… or maybe it was confusion? The destruction of building, the curious if slightly concerned offspring of organics as they gazed to the adults who held more understanding of the situation… it all seemed familiar.
”Destruction such as this, I have witnessed, and I have participated. Escalated to higher intensity. A description such as organic mental ‘pain’ did not cross me in those times, I do not calculate or remember. Only questions.” the Geth said, giving a slight humming sound as it watched the many organic bodies shuffle around.
”I do not know what such a thing ‘feels’ like. Yet, currently, this sight, despite how logically we were successful in our mission, brings a heaviness. A weight upon this platform that my sensors cannot detect. All systems are online and operational, damage sustained, yet able to be repaired. This weight is unknown.” it answered, wondering if something was perhaps wrong with it. Was it possible for it to feel pain now as organic life do?
It documented the destruction of the Morning War. Shooting Creator’s in the head, body after body until it watched the survivors retreat and flee into space. Offspring, elderly, and those no longer able or willing to fight. Leaving behind millions upon millions of bodies behind them. Phalanx did not feel this ‘pain’ then but it also did not wish to be forced to repeat this process again. Its voice was small and dumb in the mass of programs that assisted in creating its intelligence.
Would it feel pain now if something similiar happened?
Turning to look at the Batarian once more, the Geth platform watched, the flaps twitching around its eye thoughtfully.
”Ja’Far Balak, do you think I will be allowed in this Afterlife? And them as well?” it asked, returning its eye to the rubble, watching. Always watching and analyzing.
The religious man kept a soft smile on his face as he listened and scratched his neck in thought. For an AI, once thought of as nothing but evildoers with no sense of emotion, was asking and describing such
organic emotions. He hummed, thinking of what he should say. This was an AI, older than himself but was a mere child in reality. It had so many questions, so many options to do in life. In truth, it was just starting it’s life in the galaxy, where it could walk around and interact with organics. It could experience things it had never experienced before. It was then that he decided he should be this Geth’s mentor. He had never fought any of them when he was a Legionnaire and was always in the middle ground with the argument for AI. This… Phalanx had given off enough organic signals that it wouldn't feel too unnatural mentoring it. He hadn't mentored anyone in awhile, not since the Reapers came.
He kept his voice low but expression thoughtful
”Heaviness? Thou is experiencing guilt, Phalanx. Empathy, dost thou what it means?” Phalanx was about to answer this, its vocals already whirring up to make a voice.
” Not the dictionary definition but the meaning? It is what thou art feeling.” After this, Phalanx paused and allowed its comrade to continue, listening intently. Obviously was meaning to just launch off the definition that was in the dictionary in its database.
For the children. For the loved ones. For the people. Thou art experiencing crucial organic emotions Phalanx, thou hast a long way but this is the first step to knowing thine self. The Afterlife, it is a fickle thing. One dost not know whether he or she will ascend. Thou must count sins, thou must not fall into luxury, thou must experience pain like the poorest infidel. Humble thyself and the Pillars shalt look down upon thou with great understanding.”Ja’Far paused, thinking about his words. Does this AI know the concept of afterlife? He mused before continuing onwards.
”Thou must have the holy four eyes, all-seeing and all-magnificent. Thou must be humbled, and dost not drown thyself in luxury. Thou must provide salvation, suffer so that the weak may be enlightened. Thou must be prideful, confidence in oneself and person. Thou must bring redemption and receive it, through fire and steel. Thou must be strong, weakness is looked down upon. Thou must be of the chosen people or friends of the chosen people, the Batarians.””These are the seven scriptures that I personally abide by. Thou art Geth. Thou hast sinned, for thou hast not the four almighty eyes. However, every being hast sinned. Thou must carry thyself in the other scriptures, like the rest of these people. Then, when thou die, whoever created the Pillars shalt judge whether thou is fit for Afterlife.” Ja’Far had never had to really explain his religion before. No one was very interested outside of Hegemony space and after the genocide, there were not many Batarians left to partake in its practices. The first step for a mentor is to find common ground or share your beliefs and culture. Mentoring is a learning curve, every individual is different. You must relate to your student before you can teach them anything. He had hoped, that by answering Phalanx’s question, that he could share some common ground. Miniscule for organics but enormous for AI.
Emotions.He stopped his musings and looked up at the Geth.
”Dost thou think that they shalt ascend? Before Judgement, it is thy opinion whether thou is ascending or not.” Listening intently to the answer, Phalanx watched the Batarian explain his beliefs. An organic concept that seemed to be a universal trait. Although slightly different depending on the individual, species, and culture. It was nice to get information on this new one, as Phalanx had no logs on this particular ‘belief’ system. Its metal flaps lay resting flat against its head, though the edges on its ‘cheeks’ slightly drooped as it listened at first. It did not have four eyes, for the Creators only made one optical view for its kind. It could not particularly understand the concept of ‘feeling’ some of these scriptures required. It supposed it could be considered quite sinful in that regard. One optical view, lacking these ‘emotions’ especially in the Morning War where it had assisted in slaying millions to the point of near species extinction. Yet the very thought brought that weight again, heavier. Was Ja’Far Balak correct? Guilt? The logical sense of it found it redundant. Why should it? Back then, it was fighting for survival. Currently it was doing the same both for itself and for the new ‘friends’ it had made. It had won, yet the weight continued. Did that make it ‘weak’ as it were? It would think quite a few of its fellow programs would calculate it as so. Despite that, it had left Rannoch in order to pursue these odd conceptions that had been forming just a year ago. If this Batarian saw something, perhaps it was on the correct track. The journey and discovery still long, but correct.
”I do not quite understand or can identify these ‘feelings’ but perhaps it is just something that I require more experience. I do not know if I can ascend to the ‘Afterlife’ and I most likely will be unable until I can answer a critical question. Am I alive? Truly? Or just a machine that is advanced enough to respond to organics fluently?” Phalanx mused before turning its gaze upward to the blue sky. Watching as clouds floated by with little care in the world, while they remained down here.
”However, there is something. I calculate that I wish to attend this place, if only for a little bit. So when I finally am no more, I can see my ‘friends’ again that I have lost and failed to serve. That is all I ask for when I am gone. One chance to see them and make sure, they are happy.” Phalanx chirped, watching the sky for another moment thoughtfully before turning its gaze to Ja’far once more.
”Is that alright?”The Batarian returned its gaze and chuckled. This seemed to confuse the Geth but he kept laughing to himself, a hearty chuckle that seemed out of place for a Batarian. It brought some attention but those people quickly looked away, intimidated by the Geth’s appearance. He paused, smiling widely at Phalanx with a twinkle in his eye.
”Thou art a contradiction. Thou states that thou is just machine. An advanced toaster. Yet, thou shows an understanding that most lack. Thou shows empathy and treats thine friends how they should be treated. This means that thou art experiencing emotion, no matter how stubborn thou may be against this view. Thi Thou wishes to see thine friends? That is a worthy goal.” He came closer to the Geth and pat it on the back, smiling and shaking his head.
”Thou wishes to be organic? Learn more about us and how we do things? Let me take thou, to new places. The human homeworld has many adventures that await us, we do have 24 hours, no?” He smiled brightly, truly happy. It's been awhile since he's mentored someone. It felt good, giving wisdom to those who listened. He began to walk, although it could be more accurately described as a limp, and indicated for the Geth to follow.
London was a beautiful city, no matter how scarred it was from the Reaper War. There were so many sights to see, so many adventures to take part in. Ja’Far gave a tour of the city, having stayed here on Earth for a while now. It was a sprawling metropolis, a mix of old and new architecture. The history and culture of humans would be abhorred by most Batarians but he wasn't like that. He knew better than to blame the Humans for what happened to his species. He walked from the old memorial of the fallen Big Ben to the new London Eye. It had been difficult trying to get tickets as he tried to justify that Phalanx wasn't so heavy as to actually break the thing. He eventually got two tickets for the Ferris wheel and he pointed out all the landmarks of both Old and New London. They eventually exited the Eye and proceeded to explore more of the city, looking through all the districts and towns. Unfortunately, he had to drag a curious Geth away from the red district, blushing slightly as one of the various...ahem,
workers winked at him. Eventually, they ended up a few meters away from a local establishment. The Regent Park Pub.
For the Geth platform, it had been an fascinating adventure. London, despite its scars, still held one of the most prominent pieces in human history and culture. It was understandable why humans seemed to treasure it so. Of course it wanted to explore everything, but there was only so much twenty four hours can accomplish. When they came upon the establishment known as a ‘pub’ which was a place organics frequently attended to partake in another activity that Phalanx didn’t quite understand.
Ingesting alcohol. Like smoking, it often had negative effects when consumed yet organics continuously put it into their bodies. Alcohol impaired the mind, as well as slowly deteriorate their organ known as livers. Yet it was one of the most popular things for organics to ingest. Such a peculiar thing.
Moving closer to the pub, Phalanx noted a few of these frequent ingestion of alcohol organics whom ended up spilling liquid orally. As they walked inside the building, Phalanx paused as it examined its dimly lit surroundings. The noise of several different televisions chirping quietly, captions playing upon the screen for those to properly understand. Its metallic flaps on top of its head moved upwards in alert as it noticed the Turian female Sicaria Velinian and the Krogan Ravanor Rykarn sitting by the bar. Moving closer, the barkeep, whom was a human female with a fairly small black shirt and torn up jeans, a slight curve to the body but had defined toned muscles, short blonde fluffy messy hair and green eyes, turned to look upon her new customer and paused, eyes widening as they gazed upon the synthetic lifeform. Seeming unsure how to particularly react to a Geth being in her bar, she turned to the Batarian instead.
”ID, and what can I get you darlin’?” she asked.
The Batarian snorted lightly, pointing out the scars all over his face.
”Sorry madam but I think that an ID shalt be unnecessary.” He ignored the strange look he received from the barkeep. Obviously the noble accent of High Batarian translated poorly through his omni-tool but he could care less. Despite his diplomatic and cool nature, it was a stressful day. He looked for a cigar to smoke but found none. Regretting his choice to give all his Cubans away to Tiberius, he looked to the patiently waiting barkeep.
”The best pack o’ cigars thou hast. Oh, and I’ll have thine finest trakh madam, the smelly shit that tastes bad to everyone else.” The blonde just nodded in confirmation which made him startle in surprise. He hadn't expected that they would actually have it but he supposed that he was just getting lucky.
Deciding that a seat would be perfect, Ja’Far watched as Sicaria and Rykarn shared a toast before downing their glasses. He had caught part of their conversation, old war stories from the War. He pulled a chair and sat next to the Krogan just as a pack of cigars were sent his way, Phalanx moving next to him albeit standing. Catching them mid air, he clicked his teeth at the playful barkeep before taking a cigar out. A San Lotano, manufactured by A. J. Fernandez Cigars. Some mass made cheap stuff from an island called Nicaragua. Frowning in distaste for a second, he quickly wiped it away and lit it with a portable lighter on his omni tool. He took a long drag, letting the stress of the day escape through his smoking nostrils. The human tobacco was good, he decided, if a little fake. Made in a lab most likely, actual tobacco-plant based cigars would be too expensive for a place like this to afford to sell.
He let the smoke settle before glancing at his side, taking in the mass of the Krogan next to him.
”Both of thou served in the War? Penal Legionnaire mińself, fought the Reapers all over Hegemony space. T'was for murder, mother stabbed sister, I stabbed mother. Hegemony courts never give fair trial.” He chuckled, smoke billowing around him but he was careful not to blow it in people’s faces
”Apologies, ‘tis good courtesy to introduce oneself again. Ja’Far Balak, Legionnaire of the Hegemony. Or what's left of it anyway. Rykarn and Sicaria, correct? What brings thou hither, in a fine establishment like this? I must compliment both of thine work today, thou weren't tarrying about like fools.”Ja’Far caught a glass of
trakh sliding across the counter. It had a piercing smell, layers and layers of complex flavours of the nose that most other species could not detect. While it was sweet to a Batarian like him, it smelled absolutely rancid to anyone else. Knowing this, he took it down in one swig while letting its scent enter his nose all at once. Placing the glass down, he nodded at the barkeep before continuing on
”So, any war stories? We art all veterans here, comrades now. Someone must have a good story. I have some mińself, although twas on a losing perspective.” He asked for another glass, taking another drag of his cigar, content on letting the night go by. Listening and giving a good story or two couldn't hurt anyone.
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