Mass Effect: Association (PG-15, RPG Thread)

[Solsabre]

The party entered the spartan ship, the Shanxi, following behind the short and stocky Brann. They met the rest of the crew up on the bridge. The various crew members introduced intrigued Jahara. They were all...oddities, for lack of a better word. Though, perhaps, that could be said as true for everyone recruited on this mission. She was certainly one of the stranger ones here.

Her blue gaze settled on the turian medic as Brann shared his name and function aboard the Shanxi. Jahara didn’t think she imagined it when the dark look passed over Lucianus’s face. There was slightly haunted gleam in his eyes for a brief second, but it was enough for Jahara to recognize it. It was a feeling she knew all too well. Living past an event which altered one’s life irreversibly.

Honestly, she was getting to the point of wanting to pound Domitian’s face into the floor. Maybe, he would finally shut up then.

... may I introduce Ariana Genasia, ship's engineer," Brann said, looking to the asari. "She will be keeping this vessel in shape, and she may be able to help should problems arise with your own equipment. She is rather skilled where technology is concerned."

The armored krogan contemplated the aforementioned asari. Perhaps one of the few alien species she felt the most at ease with. Jahara definitely was going to seek her out after their ‘tour’, but only for the supplies needed for her helmet.

As they were taken through the rest of the ship, Jahara kept the exposed side of her face hidden in the hallway’s shadows as much as possible. For the most, the crew didn’t give much reaction to her standoffish and stoic posture, which was fine with her.

She broke away from the group to remain in the hangar a bit longer. The krogan decided to explore the ship more on her own later.

_____________________________________________________

Aimlessly wandering through the ship’s halls for 15 minutes, Jahara arrived at the corridor of the crew’s living quarters. The brief talk with the asari involved much raising of eyebrows in mild surprise as they studied each other. However, they quickly got done to business over the materials and tools Jahara needed to fix her helmet. Ariana was insulted at first that Jahara refused to let the asari do the repairs, as though the asari were incapable of repairing a freaking helmet. Nope, Jahara carried no such opinion of the engineer’s skill, but if it still stung the asari’s pride, there wasn’t much the krogan could do about that. Ariana more likely didn’t want to lend out her tools complete strangers.

The said supplies sat snug in one arm at her side, while the other hand carried her bag. Passing by teammates settling into their rooms, she turned around momentarily when the sound of stumbling body on metal drew her attention. The human male and the whelp were arguing about something, but she didn’t stopped to catch what it was.

Nearly at the end of the hallway, Jahara simply picked one of the empty rooms without much fuss. All the quarters were going to be cramped for her. However, before she passed the threshold into the small room, someone called to her.

"Um, excuse me," An oddly clear voice rang in the hall. Jahara glanced over her shoulder. The quarian stood outside his room, smiling with nervous energy and fidgeting on his feet. If it was any other alien, she’d said he was acting ridiculous. However, the quarian touched a feeling in her that she normally kept on a tight lid on away from the monastery. He spoke up, hailing Kalros. "My name is Keelo, and, well, I couldn't help but notice that you damaged your helmet during that fight."

Jahara turned around completely, giving Keelo her full attention. “You are correct, youngling,” the biotic krogan stated stiffly. “Butting heads with another krogan, usually has that affect. Especially ones induced by the blood rage.” Especially when BOTH krogan were being driven by it.

"If you want, I would be willing to try and fix it for you. I'm rather handy with tools and equipment, so, if you'd like, I could have a look at it. Assuming this ship has the necessary materials, that is. I won't make any alterations, I swear," Keelo offered "I could look at the voice modifier as well. Th-That is, if you don't mind a quarian handling your equipment..."

Jahara stared at the male quarian hard in silence for several moments. Raising a three-fingered claw between them, she placed the middle digit's tip under Keelo's chin and carefully grasping the edge of the helmet with a forefinger. With incredible gentleness, Jahara slowly turned the quarian's head from side to side a time or two. Mostly curiosity on her part, the female krogan was intrigued by the race's dependence on their envirosuits so much to survive. It was also frustrating difficult to read their expressions beneath the tinted glass. Discerning for ulterior motives, she only spied sincerity in his offer and a natural curiosity. Satisfied, the arm dropped and she backed away before the quarian could potentially pass out from fright.

With little fanfare, she shrugged her head towards her quarters, indicating for Keelo to follow. Squishing into the tight room, Jahara dropped her bag to one side and the package of supplies on the bed. Without a word yet, the biotic krogan raised both arms to release the catches latching the helmet onto her armor. With only a slight grunt of pain from her right shoulder, Jahara lifted the black helmet revealing a tan smooth domed crest unlike the rigid crests of krogan males. Several minor scars of a hard life decorated her maw, neck, and crest and a pair of the clearest blue eyes peered back at the quarian.

With a slow movement, Jahara passed the damaged helmet over to Keelo. “Carefully,” she instructed with pointed words. Jahara was more than capable of repairing the damage herself. Avoids below, she’d cracked heads with other krogan numerous times before and she’d made it a point to educate herself in the upkeep of her equipment. However, the sincere offer to help from Keelo soften the steel wall Jahara kept up around her a notch. Besides, the opportunity permitted her the chance to study the young quarian a bit more.

Jahara sat herself on one end of the bed, not trusting the desk chair to hold her weight. She held out the supply package and tools to Keelo. “Everything should be in there.” she said with a deep tone.

The krogan female also pulled out her Acolyte pistol. Not knowing when they’d see action next, Jahara felt better cleaning her weapons immediately after each use to ensure they were primed and ready to go. She dismantled the pistol into its separate components with practiced ease. Using a small cleaning kit from her bag, Jahara scrubbed at the dirt and grime on the pistol’s handle. Without taking her eyes off the task at hand, she asked, “So, why is one so young as yourself as far from home and your people?”

Jahara asked as she knew little of the customs of the quarian people. Really, she wasn't sure how young Keelo was, it was more the impression she picked up from him. She’d never seen a quarian child come through the monastery, even though there had been a handful of humans in the short time humanity entered the galactic picture.

 

[Clewt]

Had it not been for running into a certain Krogan after years of separation, Rosh would have been far more likely to walk away before boarding the ship. The continued lack of information made him increasingly uneasy, but by this point he had a new reason to remain committed. He also knew that if he went back to the colony now, Dresden would find a way to kick him right back off in no time.

Once on the ship, the quiet Turian shadowed the group as more faces and names were introduced. He appreciated the cleaner atmosphere than where they had been previously. He had grown spoiled after living for so long on a planet with a pleasant environment, however, and this recycled air could not compare.

Moving with the group at a leisure pace, he kept to the far rear in an attempt to avoid any unwanted attention.
He walked along with the tour on autopilot, his mind preoccupied with possible scenarios of a conversation he did not look forward to, but knew would be inevitable.

Once outside his own small space inside the ship, Rosh felt like he had lost track of time. He stood in the doorway, a hand firmly holding to the top frame. He leaned on it heavily as the want for sleep nagged at him.
After a moment of staring at the spartan accommodations, Rosh dragged himself inside and dropped his pack gracelessly on the bed. He soon followed suit and sank into the only comfortable looking piece of furniture beside the large bag. His head drooped, pale violet eyes unfocused. After a few minutes, he shook his head to keep from nodding off. After a thought, he decided the armor was not the best thing to fall asleep in as he had repeatedly found out before.

Getting back to his feet, Rosh unzipped the main compartment of his pack. With one smooth motion, he dumped the entirety of its content. Setting it aside, he began tossing things into their own respective piles here and there.
Momentarily distracted, he started organizing some of it by making stacks on the only table. Medkit, small tool containers, digipads, personal supplies, and an assortment of random things he never bothered to keep in their proper place.
By the time he finished, the desk had little room left while his clothes remained partially folded on the end of the bed. The small red jacket had been thrown onto the pillow.

Unholstering his primary pistol, he set that on the top blanket, his backup joining it shortly after.
With practiced ease, the Turian systematically stripped his armor down and left it in yet another pile near the wall. He would clean that later. Maybe.
Pealing the under suit off, he tossed that to the side with little care as well.
Rosh preferred his looser clothing, but putting on the body armor had become habit. Once dressed, it blended in easily underneath his blue long-sleeved shirt.

Rosh stopped short of dropping back onto the bed, sensing heavy footsteps outside his door. Internally groaning at who he supposed would be coming, he turned around, ready to face her head on.

The door shifted open and Rosh noticeably relaxed. Even with the way the uninvited guest looked at him, the Turian really did not mind. He just felt relieved it was Brask looming at his doorway and not his mother. At least until he got his thoughts together… and some courage.

-"...Roshiovis, isn't it?" Brask asked him, unable to help but sound standoffish as he spoke to him.

The Turian only hummed in response, finding the edge of his desk to partially sit on. He planted his hands on either side for support.

-"...So, what's your story?"

“Which story?” Rosh sounded almost amused. “I have many..”
His voice remained a bit deeper than normal, most likely from the fatigue. He knew full well that would not be a satisfying answer for the Krogan, but the engineer was feeling ornery.

-The Hailot warrior folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "How'd you and Kalros-- Well, how'd you end up with a krogan mother?" He asked him. His eyes narrowed and he gazed away from the turian reflectively. "It's not every day that a krogan would adopt a turian... Even without the Genophage, we can't even eat the same food. What was it like?"

Lifting a bare hand from the table, Rosh rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He immediately stopped with a groan, reminded of his earlier injury.
“To keep it short,” He began, his eyes finding the wall more interesting to look at than Brask. “Lost my family when I was little.. got thrown into an orphanage and uh.. gained an unfavorable reputation…”

He returned his gaze to Brask. “You’ll have to ask her why she bothered..”
Black painted mandibles angled down slightly when Rosh let a smile slip. The subject had drudged up old memories. Shenanigans from decades ago now seemed far more humorous than at the time.
“If anyone here can relate to what it was like, I would assume you could.” Rosh tilted his head at the Krogan.
"I've never met a Krogan that knows how to pull a punch. Metaphorically or literally.."

-Brask grunted and smirked a bit. "And how did you both end up on the same damn mission? Did she come to make sure you wore your sweater?" he couldn't help but tease.

The Turian’s mood dropped. He completely missed the teasing nature as he focused purely on the first sentence spoken.
Rosh slouched forward, his eyes finding the floor.

“That is the question..” The words came out low in an almost exasperated tone.
As much as he dreaded having to tell about how his own life had changed, he had just as much motivation to know why in the universe he caught the female Krogan here. They both had a lot to answer for at this point.
What could have possibly made her have to take such a job? Had she done this before and just never told him?

With a heavy sigh, Rosh forced his thoughts to stop the continued cycle of needless speculation. Straightening up, he stretched out stiff joints and muscles before leaning on the edge again and folding his arms.
He looked back to his guest as something suddenly occurred to him.

“Oh.. and I am not her only one..” His dual-vocals returned to an even level as more pleasant memories came back to him. Brask’s potential reaction to his reveal brought back his amused expression.

“I have many siblings.” Rosh stated, fighting back a smirk.

 

[Griff4815]

Although Keelo began to feel relief at the fact that Kalros didn't immediately brush him off, when the large krogan approached him, his trepidation reemerged. When Kalros raised her hand to his chin, the quarian's body reacted with shock and fear. His glowing eyes widened, his heart raced, and the breath that he took lingered in his lungs. Although he would soon feel foolish for thinking so, in the moment he wondered if she was going to try to rip his helmet off.

Subverting his nervous expectations, Kalros merely - and with an extreme amount of gentleness that he didn't think possible from a krogan - angled his head and inspected him. He wasn't entirely sure why. He assumed that she didn't see a lot of quarians and was curious about his enviro-suit. Regardless, he didn't resist in the slightest.

When Kalros backed away, Keelo released the uncertain breath that he had been holding. To his relief, he saw Kalros gesture towards her room. He followed her inside and stood back as he placed her things on her bed and removed her helmet.

The quarian watched with great interest as Kalros removed her helmet and revealed her face. He had never seen a female krogan up close before. Her features seemed softer than that of male krogan, although he still saw several scars etched into her neck and face. It made it clear to him that female krogan were no strangers to violence either. He wondered what exactly Tuchanka was like.

Most striking to him were Kalros' bright, blue eyes. They were piercing, but warm and beautiful. Like Kalros herself, they struck a paradoxical balance between being intimidating and putting Keelo at ease.

With a slow movement, Jahara passed the damaged helmet over to Keelo. “Carefully,” she instructed with pointed words.

Keelo nodded and took her helmet with great care. "I will. Don't worry," he responded, tentatively sitting down on Kalros' bed, on the opposite end to the krogan.

She held out the supply package and tools to Keelo. “Everything should be in there.” she said with a deep tone.

"Thank you," he responded, taking the bag of supplies and taking out the tools that he would need.

He gave the helmet a once over, his mind quickly thinking about what he would need to do. There was a large crack within the helmet's visor, the lens that covered the krogan's eye. Due to the structure of krogans' faces, there was one for each eye, rather than a single visor. There was a sizeable hole, so the crack couldn't just be closed with sealant. The entire visor would have to be replaced. Before their Pilgrimage, young quarians were given training on how to fix damage to both their suits and their helmets, both with field repairs and complete overhauls. Suit maintenance was the difference between life and death for quarians.

Keelo took a spare visor out of the equipment bag, one that fit krogan helmets. He was thankful that there were three krogans on the ship, since that meant that Elkoss went out of its way to get some back-up materials for their armour. "Since this visor is hardsealed, I am going to have to desolder it and replace it to ensure that the hardsuit is properly sealed," he explained to Kalros. "I will also make sure that the mini-frame's suite is still functional."

The quarian stood up and took the helmet to Kalros' metal desk, deciding to sit there instead. He took the heatgun and prepared to work on the helmet. He would have a look at the voice modifier afterwards.

“So, why is one so young as yourself as far from home and your people?” Kalros asked the young quarian.

"Oh. I am on my Pilgrimage," Keelo explained as he got to work on her helmet. "It is something that every young adult quarian goes through. We must leave the Flotilla, experience the wider galaxy, and bring something of value back to the Flotilla." He turned on the heat gun and began carefully tracing the broken visor without damaging the helmet. "Once I do that, I will be accepted into a new crew as a permanent crewmember."

"My... Pilgrimage hasn't been all that successful, so far," he admitted sheepishly. "I moved to Tayseri Ward in the Citadel and things went fine for awhile. I worked at a weapons mod shop. I probably should have just stayed on there since they pay was stable, but I was ambitious. I started up a sky car repair business with a salarian friend - or I thought he was my friend. It turns out he just used me for my money, then he cut me out of the business. I really thought I could trust him..." Keelo explained, a tinge of sadness to his voice.

Keelo shook his head. "Sorry. I'm sure you don't want to hear about that. Anyway, I'm sure it must be strange, me going from a failed sky car mechanic to being on a secret mercenary team... I suppose the reason I'm here is because I caught Elkoss Combine's attention. A year ago, they held a marksmanship competition, but it was really more of a trade show. I managed to come in first place, and I suppose they kept me on their files ever since. I get the feeling that they asked me to be on the team because of my shooting ability rather than my technical abilities. My father is an officer in the Migrant Fleet Marines; he was the one who taught me the best way to shoot. My mother is builds technology for strip-mining asteroids and moons," he continued chatting as he worked. He really had no inhibitions about opening up about himself, and he enjoyed talking as he worked on mechanical projects.

Keelo removed the broken helmet lens and replaced it with the substitute visor while the rim of the helmet was still hot. He made sure it was firmly fixed in place before starting to solder the lens into the helmet. He was meticulous as he was very concerned about helmet safety.

"I suppose agreed partially because of the large payment," Keelo explained, growing a bit introspective. "Another part of me agreed because I thought that this would be a great chance to find an amazing Pilgrimage gift. I don't want to return to the Flotilla until I find something that will really help the Migrant Fleet." Keelo stalled as he soldered the helmet. "...And I suppose I'm not ready to finish my Pilgrimage yet. There's just so much that this galaxy has to offer. There are so many different species with different cultures. There's so much to discover. I have never even met a female krogan until now," he explained with excitement in his light, youthful voice.

He then blushed and looked over at Kalros with shame and embarrassment. "Yet here I am babbling about myself when there is somebody much more interesting sitting right beside me. I would love to hear about you! How did you end up on this team? What is Tuchanka like? Did you adopt Rosh?" he couldn't help but ask, barely able to contain his curiosity and interest.

-​

Meanwhile, in a room further down the hallway, Brask eyed Rosh with a narrow, inquisitive gaze. As he asked him his questions, he sized the turian up. It seemed like he was reluctant away to give away very much information, or, at least, nothing more than the bare minimum.

“To keep it short,” He began, his eyes finding the wall more interesting to look at than Brask. “Lost my family when I was little.. got thrown into an orphanage and uh.. gained an unfavorable reputation…”

Brask raised an eyebrow. The blue turian didn't seem like the kind to be a troublemaker.

“If anyone here can relate to what it was like, I would assume you could.” Rosh tilted his head at the Krogan. "I've never met a Krogan that knows how to pull a punch. Metaphorically or literally.."

"Hmph," Brask grunted, managing a smirk. "Yeah. Never did make many friends with aliens... We krogan aren't exactly popular in the galactic community. Apparently we have a reputation for being rude, violent, boisterous, and angry... No idea where they get that idea from," he sardonically mused.

Brask folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not an orphan though. My father's long dead, yeah, but my mother's still in one of the female clans on Tuchanka," he responded.

As Rosh continued, Brask noticed that the turian seemed as surprised about Kalros as he did. He looked to be deep in thought. Brask deduced that Rosh was the quiet, introspective sort. He watched as Rosh turned his attention back to him and seemed to have a subtle air of levity about him.

“Oh.. and I am not her only one..” His dual-vocals returned to an even level as more pleasant memories came back to him. Brask’s potential reaction to his reveal brought back his amused expression. “I have many siblings.” Rosh stated, fighting back a smirk.

Brask's right eye twitched. "...How many siblings?" he asked incredulously. "Did she adopt the entire damn orphanage? Damn, I really do need to go talk to her... "

The krogan frowned. He remembered his prior engagement. "Anyway, I'd better go. Having a shooting match with some of the other down in the ship's hangar. Come if you want. Just don't expect to win," he offered. Brask turned away from Rosh, pivoting his large body around. "Might check out the turian chef after and... see what's on the menu."

Brask glanced over his shoulder at Rosh and gave him another once over with his sharp emerald eyes. "Later," he said to the turian, his deep baritone resonating in the small room.

The krogan lumbered out of Rosh's room and made his way down the hallway. He grabbed his heavy pistol from his room, locked the door, and continued on down the tight, ship corridor. Brask reached the cargo elevator and took it down to the hangar.

As he expected, when he got out of the elevator, he saw Cogwedj making himself right at home. Just as long as he stayed out of Brask's room, he didn't care what the salarian did.

He walked past Ariana's workshop, giving her a short nod before making his way to the back of the hangar, which was spacious and empty.

Brask pulled up his pistol. "Alright, time to show you what a century of shooting does for your aim," he said with a cocky smirk.

 

[storymasterb]

The medical bay was sterile as ever, kept so by Lucianus' careful ministrations. This was his turf, kept pristine white, at odds with the stark darkness of the vessel. Cabinets presumably for medical supplies lined one wall, three empty beds against the other wall between the door and where Lucianus sat.

The turian in question sat at his desk as Melanie entered, legs crossed as he regarded something on his omni-tool. He glanced up at her approach, closing whatever it was and meeting her eyes. "Can I help you?" he asked, his tone cordial but clipped. He was as warm as a turian could be, Melanie reflected.

"I just wanted to get to know you a bit better," she said. "I mean, my life might be in your hands at some point in this mission. And we'll be sharing this ship, makes sense to talk, doesn't it?"

Lucianus nodded. "I can see that. Not a lot to say, though. I'm just a small-time doctor from a colony no one's ever heard of, on this ship to pay the bills."

"Are you from Palaven? Sorry to pry."

"Got that impression from tall, dark and spiky?" Lucianus replied with a chuckle. "Yes. I was born on Palaven, spent a good chunk of my life there. It's where I learned medicine. That was what I wanted to do for my people. Fix them up when they broke."

"Totally different from Domitian, then," she smiled. "That guy just wants to break things."

"I think I got the gist of him earlier," the doctor said wryly, tracing a claw across his desk lightly. His movements were precise and restrained. His finger's sharp tip didn't scratch the surface at all. "They say we're a race of soldiers, but that's not the whole story. You get the odd one like him who lacks the discipline, who rebels. And then you get the ones like me who don't want to hurt anything." His finger stopped. "Do you know how turian society is organised?"

She shook her head. "I haven't met many turians."

"To the turian race, the military is the core of our society," Lucianus explained. "Every branch of our society is tied to it. Military police and civil police are one and the same. The same engineers serve civil and military needs. Our merchants also provide logistical support. That sort of bond. Our society is highly militaristic. The conflict this vessel is named after happened because we encountered lawbreakers and responded in overwhelming military terms." He paused. "I don't mean to offend, if you lost family in the war. I know it's a touchy subject."

"I lost someone I never knew," Melanie replied. "I don't have any grudges. But from what you say, I'd guess someone pacifistic is weird?"

"You could say that. We can accommodate for pacifism, for most things in fact," he continued. "Even if I wouldn't fire a gun, I could get people back into fighting shape. But I'm still against the quintessential idea of a turian. Domitian, did you say his name was? He's against that concept too, just in a different way. I lack the militarism and he lacks the discipline."

She pursued her lips. "Why did you leave Palaven? Did you just feel like you didn't fit?"

He looked down. "I had a reason that I'd rather not discuss. I hope you understand."

She nodded. "I do." A painful past was nothing new to her. She hadn't told anyone about what Cerberus had done to her, not in its entirety. She'd let slip a few details here and there when it was needed, but no one knew the whole truth. She could tell from how he had reacted to Domitian that whatever this was (and she was sure that what Domitian had alluded to and Lucianus' reason for leaving were the same), the turian was still wounded by it.

"What's your story?" he asked. "You're covered in scars. You're clearly a fighter, but you still made time to come and talk to me even though once the mission's over we'll probably never meet again. Where does that come from?"

"I don't know," she answered. "It's just me. I'd rather get along with you while we work together. I'm not really a fighter, not like Domitian is. I don't enjoy it. I just do what's necessary."

"Necessary for what?"

She shrugged. "Survival. I'm not proud of it, but it's what I had to do. I didn't survive Omega as a teenage girl by being squeamish."

"I imagine it's quite the story," Lucianus noted. "Omega's not the kind of place you want to wind up in. Were you born there?"

She shook her head. "No. But it's my home now. The only home I really know."

The doctor regarded her. "I guess we're both outcasts then. Are you here for the money, then?"

Melanie nodded, threading her fingers together and stretching them. "Can't survive without it. I'll do what I need to and feel the guilt after the fact if it's something terrible. I don't relish it, but I'm not going to wind up dead because I haven't got the stomach for dirty business."

"It sounds like you're pretty ruthless in your own way," Lucianus noted. "Let's hope that none of us get between you and survival." It was only when he chuckled that Melanie realised he was joking, and she let a smile form on her lips. "I should get back to organising these medical supplies. Elkoss might have given me everything I'd need, but whoever packed them was apparently custom-made to offend my idea of organisation. It was good to talk." He paused. "I don't think I got your name."

"Melanie Blake," she said. "See you around."

"Let's hope with a distinct lack of grievous injuries," the turian chuckled, rising to his feet and crossing to the cabinets on the opposite walls as she left.

---​

The darkness of the ship's hangar surrounded Domitian like a cloak. He leaned back against the wall, glaring from the darkness. He watched Ariana go about her work. She was stripping apart a rifle belonging to one of Brann's human guards, with the man in question watching her work. She regarded each component carefully, licking her lips as she made minute adjustments to the weapon's pieces. A piece of machinery was fitted with precise touches into its proper place and the asari began to reassemble the man's weapon.

Domitian chuckled to himself as the man strode away with a smile. He watched Brask emerge from the elevator and after a moment, shrugged himself off the wall and drew his assault rifle. It unfurled in his hands, adopting its active shape as he strode from the shadows to meet his opponent.

"I assume we are to compare marksmanship," he said sneeringly. "Will it just be us, or is that mercenary merely lagging behind in fear of imminent humiliation?"

Ariana emerged from her workshop. "Did I hear something about comparing marksmanship? Are you two planning some kind of shooting contest?"

"Something of the sort, yes," the turian said. "I believe a third contestant is on his way, though I would not be surprised if he had backed out. Why your interest?"

"Always did like to try my hand with the guns I worked on," she smirked. "Would you mind if I joined in? I'm interested to see how I compare to you."

"I have no objections," Domitian shrugged. "More opposition only means greater glory to the victor. What say you, krogan? Shall we see what she can do?"

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

"Watch it, human. Or else I might just decide to use your squishy head as a target. I don't quite see the funny side to my race slowly going extinct."

“Okay, no offense meant,” the much smaller human said, as raised his hands in surrender. However, ever the mysterious one, he kept the smile on his face despite the obvious dourness he had incurred from the krogan. His face betrayed nothing, having perfected a personal poker face that could give even the most astute of observers a headache.

"...Scram. I'll meet you in the hangar ten minutes. There's no vehicle down there, so there should be enough space to make a small shooting range."

Askari nodded. “I’ll see if I can invite any of the others, first,” he said as he watched the krogan walk to another room.

The sniper thought to himself, tilting his head. ‘So he is worried about his race’s rather obvious problem…then what, I wonder, is he doing all the way out here instead of trying to fix it over there?’ He let himself ponder the question for the moment. There could be a hundred reasons really, but he did enjoy the momentary conundrum. It mostly distracted himself the current strangeness of the mission that he had gotten himself in.

Well, too late to worry about it, he supposed.

His next stop was Melanie’s room, having spied the other human enter a room that was close to his. He brought his hand to knock. “Melanie, it’s Askari,” he called out. “I wanted to extend the invitation to the shooting competition if you were interested.”

He wasn’t expecting a yes, really, but he didn’t get to see much of her marksmanship during the previous fight. He was interested in knowing how well she could use a gun when she wasn’t focused on defending herself or using her biotics. At the very least, it didn’t hurt to ask. After a moment, though, with no reply, he assumed she wasn’t inside. With a shrug, he walked down the hall.

As he did so, he heard familiar voices, a gruff female one and a young and innocent one. Immediately, his thoughts named them: Kalros and Keelo. It made him raise a brow - how did these two end up talking to each other?

He walked to the door just in time to hear start talking about himself.

The sniper knew that he was eavesdropping. It was hard habit to drop, but it was one that had not only served him well for years but saved him multiple times. Aliens never suspected humans with such odd looking ears to have good hearing, and he preferred to keep them thinking that way.

As he listened, though, he started to empathize a bit with the quarian. He didn’t seem like the type to belong to an occupation involving merc work. At the very least, he couldn’t denote a tone of secrecy or deceit in his voice - a refreshing change from all the cynical dregs that always roamed the halls of Omega and other such similar establishments.

Of course, after a while, he noticed that he hadn’t really moved from his spot for a few minutes. Although thankful that there really wasn’t anyone to see him, it was against his nature to look suspicious, and although he really wanted to hear Kalros reply - he supposed that if anyone could get anything out of her, it would either be the innocent-seeming Keelo or her supposed-son Rosh - he also agreed to meet Brask and Domitian at the hangar soon. And he hated not being able to keep his word.

He knocked on the door frame to Kalros’ room, making his presence known.

Ask offered the two a smile as he waved from his position. It took him a moment to take in the surroundings - Keelo with his mechanical tools out, in front of what looked to be Kalros’ broken helmet. It looked like he was fixing it for her.

“Good…afternoon, I suppose,” he said offering a smile on his face. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Just wanted to know if either of the two are interested in joining some of us in the hangar for the…marksman ship practice, I suppose you could call it that. It would be great to see just how well you can handle a gun,” he said with a grin, turning to Keelo. “Call it a last ditch effort in seeing the good in the two of our resident troublemakers,” he added, referring to Domitian and Brask.

“In any case, we’ll be in the hangar,” he said with a small nod. “Hopefully Ariana won’t mind us having the competition there, if not actually join us. She seems…unusual for an asari, much different from the ones I’ve encountered, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

He then let out a grin. “We’ve gathered quite a strange group, haven’t we?” he asked, more to himself as he excused himself with a nod and left the two together.

“A strange group indeed…”

-​

Askari made his way down to the hanger. He continued his mental count of the crew, memorizing familiar faces and mentally noting oddities, like that one human with a limp and a skittish looking volus. He wondered how many of them were direct hired hands and how many were mercenaries like them. He would have to ask around later. For now, he had other things to attend to.

By the time he arrived, he noted that both Brask and Domitian were already waiting for him, along with Ariana it seemed. Amused by their punctuality, he let out a small grin. He was just in time to hear Domitian badmouth him. Not that he didn’t expect it.

"I believe a third contestant is on his way, though I would not be surprised if he had backed out. Why your interest?"

Askari had to roll his eyes. Already, the sniper began to wonder if he could use that overconfidence against him. He was tempted to try.

"Always did like to try my hand with the guns I worked on. Would you mind if I joined in? I'm interested to see how I compare to you,” he overheard the asari engineer say. She had gumption, Askari had to admit.

"I have no objections. More opposition only means greater glory to the victor. What say you, krogan? Shall we see what she can do?"

“I don’t see why not,” Askari called out, walking over and making his presence known. He drew out his Predator, making a short but skillful twirl in his hand before holding it firmly by the grip. “The more the merrier. I asked Keelo and Kalros to join us, but that depends on them.” He turned to Ariana, smiling and nodding politely.

“You may call me Askari - Ask is fine,” he told her with a small smile. “Since you seem to have been here the longest, do you have any idea what we can use as a target?”

Ariana gave him a small raised brow before nodding. “Yeah, see those shipping crates over there?” the asari said, pointing to the far end of the hangar wall. “We loaded up some equipment on it, but we took them out once inside, so they’re pretty much empty right now. There also some empty grease cans around that we can use.”

The human sniper had to grin. He remembered using cans for target practice when he started being taught how to use the gun. It gave him a nostalgic feeling.

“I’d say the cans are probably the most challenging thing to shoot apart from each other, and I don’t think our employer would like us putting holes in each other any time soon, so if there are no objections, I’ll set them up,” Ask said as he walked over to the crates.

“I’ll help you. I know where the cans are, too,” Ariana said, following him.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Ask told her with a smile and a nod. “To be honest, I’m actually glad you’re joining us. I’ve never met an asari like you before.”

“That’s what they all say,” Ariana was quick to reply, rolling her eyes and sounding defensive. “Most others have this idea that all asari have to be this sexual creature that don’t like getting down and dirty, or at least not the kind that involves grease and guns. That doesn’t mean I have to conform to their ideals.”

“It takes all kinds,” Askari mentioned with understanding. He spotted some cans nearby and started placing them on the crates, spacing them out evenly with Ariana’s help. “Not to pry, but if possible, I’d like to know just what made you decide to live a life as a grease monkey. No offense, of course.”

“None taken. I take the name with pride,” she said as she adjusted the distance between a few empty cans here and there. “And there’s not much to tell. While other asari liked getting under men and finding out how to push their buttons, I decided I fit better under cars and spaceships and finding out how they ticked. And if anyone thought I should be doing otherwise, it helped to know how a gun works.”

Ask had to chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, although he had some doubts. Whenever anyone said there’s not a lot to tell about themselves, the case was usually the opposite. As he turned back to Domitian and Brask, he felt like it held true to them as well.

“It’s all set up,” he told them as Ariana walked by his side. In his hand, he held one more empty can. “Ten cans, ten tries, one shot each. First five at twenty five meters. Last five at fifty meters. You miss, you move on. Those rules sound simple enough?” he asked with a grin.

He then turned to the distance. “And to start us all off, a small show,” he couldn’t help but add, tossing the empty can into the air.

Then with practiced ease and skill, he raised his Predator into the air, took aim, and took a shot. The bang of his gun resounded in the hangar, followed by the clang of his fired projectile hitting the can and sending it higher into the air. Askari’s arms bounced back to absorb the gun’s recoil before quickly taking aim again, and once more fired. The human sniper grinned as another clang sounded and the can bounced in the air once more.

“And, again!” he declared, taking another shot at the falling can.

Instead of hitting it directly like the first two times, he saw that it nicked it instead, causing the can to spin straight down and land with a metallic clanking sound, bouncing a few more times before rolling on the ground, smoke rising from where it landed harmlessly.

Askari sighed. ”Damn, I usually do better than that,” he said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head but not sounding disappointed at all. He turned to the others. “So, who wants to go first?”

From the side, it seemed like Cogwedj was watching them with interest, although he looked like he was also busying building small spheres much like the one he had used on the Night Fang krogan. Bombs, to be specific, although he looked unperturbed and quite at home handling them.

“Hm. Shooting contest. Waste ammunition. But good way to evaluate efficiency. Should pay attention. May be able to make more efficient.”

 

[Solsabre]

Jahara cleaned her Acolyte, while Keelo jabbered on. Periodically she’d looked up at the back of Keelo’s helmet, taking a pause in her work. The biotic female shook her head mildly, permitting the quarian to speak freely to fill the silence. Her posture relaxed a margin, focused on the task in her hands. Deceptively, her senses remained on guard. Only a minute pause in the fluid motions of her hands betrayed the alert anticipation she now regarded the entry with. She smooth reassembled the pistol with experience ease and little sound. The foot steps in the hallway did not go missed by her two minutes ago.

Keelo blushed and looked over at Kalros with shame and embarrassment. "Yet here I am babbling about myself when there is somebody much more interesting sitting right beside me. I would love to hear about you! How did you end up on this team? What is Tuchanka like? Did you adopt Rosh?" he couldn't help but ask, barely able to contain his curiosity and interest.

Jahara paused, letting the moment drag out for several seconds, waitingBefore Jahara could reply, a knocking came from the doorway. The human male, Askari, stuck his head into the doorway, smiling and waving at the room’s two occupants.

“Good…afternoon, I suppose,” he said offering a smile on his face. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Just wanted to know if either of the two are interested in joining some of us in the hangar for the…marksman ship practice, I suppose you could call it that. It would be great to see just how well you can handle a gun,” he said with a grin, turning to Keelo. “Call it a last ditch effort in seeing the good in the two of our resident troublemakers,” he added, referring to Domitian and Brask.

Jahara merely nodded, acknowledging Askari’s casual invite, not inclined to join the rest of the team in the commons of the ship, at least not yet.

In any case, we’ll be in the hangar,” he said with a small nod. “Hopefully Ariana won’t mind us having the competition there, if not actually join us. She seems…unusual for an asari, much different from the ones I’ve encountered, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Indeed,” Jahara said with an even tone. “Though perhaps not as unusual as you might think.” Her thoughts wandered briefly to her Asari sisters back at the monastery. Many of the founding members were former commandos and even one Justicar.

Askari nodded to them, excusing himself. Jahara released a tensed breath and relaxed her grip on pistol’s trigger. The biotic krogan flicked the weapon’s safety back on. She would have to watch that one, unusual indeed.

Casting a glance back at Keelo, Jahara considered his previous questions and curiosity. The answers were easy enough to give without digging too deep to trigger paranoia. The female krogan set aside her pistol on the bed, confident in that they were definitely alone.

“Perhaps a female krogan would be interesting to most. I’ve merely gotten by living as a mercenary like others of my kind and built a reputation that Elkross found suited to their needs.” Jahara started out saying. Her voice turned a shade harsher speaking the blunt truth of Tuchanka, “You aren’t missing anything. Tuchanka is a radioactive wasteland devoid of life, other than the scavengers that feed on unsuspecting or alert krogan.”

Jahara shifted in her seat, her legs restless from remaining still for too long. A slight smile passed over her features as she recalled the latest encounter with a certain turian down the hall. “Yes, Rosh is my adoptive son, troublesome pyjak that he was then. Probably still is, just better at hiding it I’d wager.”

 

[Griff4815]

Keelo turned his head and looked over his shoulder, peering curiously through the glass of his helmet as Askari stopped in the doorway.

“Good…afternoon, I suppose,” he said offering a smile on his face. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Just wanted to know if either of the two are interested in joining some of us in the hangar for the…marksman ship practice, I suppose you could call it that. It would be great to see just how well you can handle a gun,” he said with a grin, turning to Keelo. “Call it a last ditch effort in seeing the good in the two of our resident troublemakers,” he added, referring to Domitian and Brask.

Keelo didn't respond immediately. He was intrigued by the offer, but he was also uncertain. He had confidence in his shooting ability, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to put himself out there. He wasn't sure if he had better aim than Brask and Domitian or not, but he didn't want to risk gathering their ire in the chance that he did beat them at the competition. With that said, he did want to watch the shooting match. Instead of replying, he nodded at Askari and tinkered with the voice changer of Kalros' helmet.

“Perhaps a female krogan would be interesting to most. I’ve merely gotten by living as a mercenary like others of my kind and built a reputation that Elkross found suited to their needs.” Jahara started out saying. Her voice turned a shade harsher speaking the blunt truth of Tuchanka, “You aren’t missing anything. Tuchanka is a radioactive wasteland devoid of life, other than the scavengers that feed on unsuspecting or alert krogan.”

Jahara shifted in her seat, her legs restless from remaining still for too long. A slight smile passed over her features as she recalled the latest encounter with a certain turian down the hall. “Yes, Rosh is my adoptive son, troublesome pyjak that he was then. Probably still is, just better at hiding it I’d wager.”

Keelo smiled a bit and looked over at the female krogan. "Still, it is your homeworld," he responded. "There must be a few things good about it."

Keelo stopped and winced. "Err, I'm sorry. I don't mean to imply that I know more about your own homeworld than you do," he insisted apologetically. "It's just, us quarians don't have our own homeworld anymore, and I--" He stalled again, realising that he didn't know where he was going with that sentence and there was a good chance that he would just make a bigger faux pas.

Instead, he merely continued tinkering with the voice changer using a screwdriver. "Never mind. I sometimes say things without thinking. A-Anyways, it must be nice seeing Roshiovis. It sounds like you two haven't seen each other in awhile," Keelo noted with a smile. "I won't keep you much longer; I'm sure you would like to catch up with him. I think I'm just about--"

He was interrupted by a sharp, high-pitched tone that came from the voice changer. Keelo softly moved the screwdriver and the audio frequency that the device was emitting softened and eventually disappeared. Keelo leaned down and spoke a quarian phrase into the helmet to test the voice modifier out. A deep, distorted echo was the response.

Keelo smiled and fixed the device back into the helmet. "There, I'm finished. It should be as good as when you last used it, although you will have to check out the helmet's mini-suite for yourself," he explained.

The quarian began placing the tools back into the toolbox. "Anyways, if you'd like, I can take the tools down to Ariana. I was planning on watching the others shoot," he explained. "Oh, but if there are any problems with the helmet, please, let me know."

Keelo stood up straight and turned to Kalros with a disarming stance. "It was really nice talking with you, Kalros. I will see you later."

With a soft nod, the green-veiled quarian turned and exited the krogan's room, not wanting to take up too much of her time. He walked down the ship's hallway and made his way down to the hangar.

-​

"So, who wants to go first?"

Brask grunted and smirked. He raised his modded Hurricane pistol and walked forward with all the confident swagger of a krogan male. "I'll go first," he declared confidently.

He gripped the hilt of his heavy pistol and raised the weapon up to his keen, krogan eye. His slit of a pupil gazed down the pistol's sight. He carefully lined up his first shot, loosened his wrist just enough to prepare for the recoil, and let his breath linger in his four lungs.

He pulled the trigger and fired a round off. The bullet pierced square through the middle of the left-most can at the twenty five meter range. Without hesitation, Brask angled his gun to the right and fired again. The second shot hit the can adjacent to it. Without exhaling, Brask squeezed off three more shots. Three more cans rattled as they hit the floor of the hangar.

The corner of Brask's mouth twitched upwards into a smirk. He released his breath and waited for his gun to cool as the pistol hissed with steam. The krogan mercenary took aim at the cans positioned at fifty meters.

"Watch and learn, novices," he said, squinting as he lined up his shot.

Brask took aim and squeezed the trigger of his pistol with a deep, resonating crack. The pistol snapped back and a bullet punctured one of the far cans.

The krogan then aimed for the next one and fired. This time, the bullet missed by about about fifteen centimeters. Brask narrowed his eyes with annoyance and aimed for the next can. A deep pop resonated from his pistol.

Another miss.

Brask sneered and aimed at the next can, firing again. This time, the shot hit true and the can went sailing off the box. Brask lined up his final shot quickly and pulled the trigger. The heavy slug whizzed by the final can, clipping the very edge of the cylinder. A soft, metallic clink could be heard; the bullet brushed the side of the can, not puncturing it but sending it into an awkward spin that caused it to roll around on the box.

The krogan lowered his steaming pistol and grunted. "There. Eight."

"Seven," Ariana spoke up. "You barely grazed that last can."

Brask shot her a leer. "If that were a turian, he'd be missing a mandible right now," he protested, flicking the safety on his pistol and holstering it. "Fine, seven. Who's next?"

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

More than watching the cans fly off one after another, Askari found himself watching Brask Hailot himself.

He watched as the krogan’s chest rise with his breath, his shoulders relaxing enough to let him aim freely, and his arms flex just enough to steady that aim. His experience showed in his posture, not a single muscle out of place.

This wasn’t the battle-hungry krogan he saw during the first battle. There was no ‘enemy’ to kill, anyone to pour his unbridled rage towards. This wasn’t a shootout to decide who lives another a day and who ends up as space dirt. This was a simple skills competition that required one’s concentration to be at top form, and this allowed him to see a side to the krogan that he was sure he wouldn’t see anywhere else.

As he shot the cans one after one, Brask wasn’t enraged nor loud. He was cool and calm, something he had seen in krogans only a handful of times. He was letting his gun and skills do all the talking. It was fascinating to him, to see the unusual and uncharacteristic, even for just a second of a single moment.

He glanced at Domitian. He wondered if the turian would stay true to his persona full of bravado and pride, or if he would show Askari another side of him as well. He looked forward to it.

"Watch and learn, novices."

The human sniper looked back at Brask and let out a smile. “You’re not finished yet, Brask,” he said, gesturing to the five cans left. “What do you think Domitian?”

He let the turian answer as he observed the krogan fire off more shots. He didn’t know if it was Brask getting too overconfident at hitting the first five with ease or if the distance became much more of a problem, but he wasn’t able to shoot the rest as easily. He could tell that Brask was getting annoyed - the smirk that had appeared was just as quickly replaced with a frown. Ask assumed that was the limit of his calm and cool exterior, and he chuckled.

"There. Eight."

"Seven. You barely grazed that last can,” Ariana protested, giving him a focused gaze. He mentally praised her for not looking away as he gave he shot her a look of daggers.

"If that were a turian, he'd be missing a mandible right now.”

“I’m sure he would, but stationary cans can’t run or shoot back like turians,” Askari added with a smile.

"Fine, seven. Who's next?" he replied grumpily.

Askari didn’t want to go next just yet. “I’ll set up the cans again while you guys - and girl - decide,” he said as he walked back to the fallen cans and cargo boxes. As he did so he realized that not all of the cans could be used again - some of them had bent into unusual shapes as the result of being shot. Fortunately, more empty cans were easy to find. Ariana had definitely made herself busy.

By the time he looked back, Ariana had taken her place in front of the krogan and turian. Askari momentarily thought of staying right there to put the cans back as soon as she was done, but the thought of being in the shooting range made his self-preservation alarm go haywire, so he jogged back.

“All set up for you, Ariana,” he said, shooting her a smile. “Good luck.”

“Won’t need it. You’ll be going back there to set all of them back up soon,” she declared, cocking her pistol.

“I look forward to it,” Askari replied, placing his hands behind his head as he watched her start to shoot the cans herself.

Unlike Brask, her posture was more tightened and rough, but the fluidity of her arms as she absorbed the recoil and reaimed was just as fascinating. A hardened exterior, indeed, but perhaps belying the innate elegance that all asari had no matter what profession they were in. It almost reminded him of his cousin.

Watching her almost made him forget that he had seen someone else come into the hangar just before Brask started shooting.

Of course, the first person that actually saw Keelo come in was Cogwedj, who was quick to accost the quarian.

“You, help. Need more hands. Maintenance, spot check,” the salarian said as he pulled the other engineer to his table, which had already become quite a mechanical mess in what was less than an hour. “Can watch, but hands busy,” he told Keelo, handing him looked to be mods.

At first glance, the mods looked normal, like the ones that would usually be bought in a weapons store. However, upon further inspection and to a trained eye, it seemed as if all of them had been heavily modified in a way that would greatly increase their power. However, at the same time, it seemed like at least half of them seemed to require a better cooling system or higher energy expenditure. At the very least, they were all well and beyond what could normally have been upgraded.

“Can use any of equipment. Careful of explosive devices - don’t push any buttons,” the salarian said as an afterthought as he took apart his Carnifex. It, too, looked like it had been altered with various modifications. “Must fix jamming problem,” he said as he took out his own tools.

 

[storymasterb]

Domitian watched as Brask shot the cans, his face like a mask. He didn't let his thoughts show for the moment, veiling them with a blank look of smugness. A few misses made his mandibles twitch a little in amusement, but by the time the krogan was finished, most of the cans had been felled.

"Seven. You barely grazed that last can,” Ariana protested, giving him a focused gaze. He mentally praised her for not looking away as he gave he shot her a look of daggers.

"If that were a turian, he'd be missing a mandible right now.”

“I’m sure he would, but stationary cans can’t run or shoot back like turians,” Askari added with a smile.

"Nor is my mandible necessary to choke the life from a foe," Domitian said darkly. "Still, a fair performance, krogan. You are competent. That, I grant." Before he could ask who intended to shoot next, Ariana was stepping up to the mark. This asari intrigued him. He had encountered asari soldiers, but even they had retained their grace, turning battle into an artform. Though Ariana couldn't completely eradicate her race's natural elegance, she had made a spirited effort, coming across as closer to a turian than one of her own. She was hard and tough and seemed to delight in getting her hands dirty with wiring and metal. There was something admirable in that. She clearly had an affinity for it, judging by how she held her weapon. He was certain she had made it herself, or that it had been heavily modified to her liking.

Perhaps he would entrust his own weapons to her care at some point.

Ariana's shots rang out, loud barks in the dark hangar. Crew members were looking on, drawn by the contest, though none offered to join as Ariana had. They seemed impressed by the gunplay at work, or curious about those involved. Domitian suppressed the urge to chuckle at their staring admiration.

The asari fired methodically, as though she were as mechanical as her pistol. She wasn't perfect, however, and Domitian could tell she either didn't drill regularly or was out of practice. A few shots just barely missed their marks, leaving three cans stationary or trembling once she had finished.

"For an engineer, your marksmanship is... decent," the turian commented. "You surprise me, Ariana Genasia. But now it seems I should take the field and demonstrate what a master marksman can accomplish." He waited like a statue as the cans were returned to their positions, before bringing his rifle to bear. He gave a small hiss of satisfaction as he stared down the first target, letting his opponents and the murmuring crew fade out. These cans were metal and empty, no blood to pour out, no flesh to mark. But they would still fall before him.

The first shot rang out, puncturing its mark just to the left of dead center. Then the second, tearing through at the top as though aimed at the neck. Domitian took the third like he was piercing a groin, then the fourth fell like a lung had a hole torn through it. The fifth bullet missed its mark and only just still knocked the can down.

"There's five," Ariana said with amusement. "But that was easy mode, turian. Let's see how you take the fifty meter five."

"A little extra distance is no concern," the turian sneered, taking aim. The bullet lanced out and knocked a can from its perch. He fired twice in quick succession, the first bullet claiming its mark, the second only grazing a can but not knocking it down. Domitian didn't let his expression slip, instead firing two methodical shots into the two remaining cans. This time the first missed completely, and the second sent the final can clattering across the hangar floor.

Domitian unfolded from his tight combat posture and folded his rifle back into its compact state. "Eight of ten," he chuckled. "A pity. I must need a little more practice, I was certain all ten would fall before me. Still, I hope I have set a fair benchmark."

"Not too much higher than ours," Ariana smirked. "There's still room for Askari here to knock you off your high horse, turian."

"I can't say I've encountered that particular expression before," he noted, bemused.

"It's a human thing," the asari explained. "It means giving someone arrogant a reality check."

"Ah," the turian hissed, chuckling. "So you think he can defeat me? That thought amuses me, Ariana. But perhaps Askari can indeed be a pleasant surprise to overcome." He turned to the human mercenary. "What say you, Askari? I have made my mark on the field. Care to try and surpass me?"

---​

Melanie wandered the corridors of the Shanxi, taking in the rough, angular style of its construction. Crew members passed by occasionally, ones she wasn't acquainted with yet. She thought about trying to talk to them, but they all seemed in a hurry. The ship would be departing soon, surely.

She found herself by the cargo elevator leading to the hangar, and Keelo was there too, clearly about to take it.

"Keelo," she said in greeting. "It's nice to see you again. How are you finding the ship? You seemed pretty excited about it earlier."

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

Askari had to admit that Ariana did better than he expected her to. He wondered if Brask felt any bitterness about tying with her, or if it instead brought out an attraction. The krogan definitely seemed like the sort, after remembering his words about a roommate. Nonetheless, he would have to make sure to keep an eye out for Ariana Genasia, and maybe perhaps convince her to have more shooting contests with him as an excuse to find out more about her.

"For an engineer, your marksmanship is... decent," he heard Domitian say. He smiled - so far, the turian still didn’t surpass any expectations personality-wise. "You surprise me, Ariana Genasia. But now it seems I should take the field and demonstrate what a master marksman can accomplish."

There was a moment of silence before Askari realized that was his cue. “No rest for the human, huh?” Askari said with a sigh, a shrug, and a shake of his head. “Fine, fine, give me a few minutes to get everything set up again,” he then said, looking at Domitian. “And as much as I know how you enjoy shooting live targets, please refrain from shooting me while I’m there.”

It didn’t take long for Askari to once more set the stage for Domitian’s turn, and to his relief, the turian did not actually take a potshot at him.

Ask took the chance to observe Domitian closely as he observed both Brask and Ariana, making mental notes and comparisons of the three. Like Brask and unlike Ariana, his posture was one of experience, and he could see it in Domitian’s eyes that the turian had enough pride that he wasn’t going to pull any punches. Ask looked forward to what he could do.

As with both Brask and Ariana, he was able to shoot down the first and closest five of the cans with ease, although the last one looked shaky. As he watched Domitian’s face, he recognized the look in his eyes. While he and the rest of the audience saw cans to be shot, it looked like Domitian was seeing enemies to be culled. It sent a small chill down his spine, one he was quick to shake off with a quick jerk of his head.

"There's five, but that was easy mode, turian. Let's see how you take the fifty meter five," Ariana goaded him, although a smirk was painted on her face.

"A little extra distance is no concern."

And just like that, the turian was once more shooting to kill. One shot, and a can went flying and hit the ground with a clang. A couple more shots, but this time, only one of them met the same fate as the first six. Askari noted to himself that unlike Brask, Domitian’s face betrayed no emotion at having missed. Another two shots, and once more, only one can fell.

"Eight of ten. A pity. I must need a little more practice, I was certain all ten would fall before me. Still, I hope I have set a fair benchmark."

“Impressive, I suppose you could say,” Askari said with a smile, knowing he was doing nothing but feeding Domitian’s already enlarged ego. He was the last one, and other than the first time, it looked like no one wanted to set up the cans for him. He sighed and went to set them up one last time.

"Not too much higher than ours. There's still room for Askari here to knock you off your high horse, turian," Ariana said with a smirk, giving Askari a look.

"I can't say I've encountered that particular expression before," Domitian then said.

"It's a human thing. It means giving someone arrogant a reality check."

"Ah. So you think he can defeat me? That thought amuses me, Ariana. But perhaps Askari can indeed be a pleasant surprise to overcome." He then turned to Askari, a challenging gleam in his gaze. "What say you, Askari? I have made my mark on the field. Care to try and surpass me?"

The human sniper only smile back, having finished setting the cans up again.

“If you insist,” Askari replied with an easy tone, taking his place. “But I’ll have to apologize.”

He took out his Predator, looking over at the cans and remembering the first time he had done this. It was long ago, in Citadel, where his uncle had brought him to an unused storage room. His uncle had wanted to teach him how to defend himself, teaching him to shoot by using cans as targets. It had been so long ago, but he had repeated the activity so much that it had already become a habit - it hadn’t been a week since the last time he had done such practice.

“This is the kind of thing I do every day,” Askari said as he readied his aim. He took a breath - one deep calming breath that cleared his mind of anything but himself and his targets. His usual smile left his face, and the nonchalant air he had about him disappeared, replaced by an aura of sobering gravity. This was the Askari that had made a name for himself. This was the Askari that Elkoss hired. And he exhaled.

One shot. Two shots. Three shots. Each one was followed by the clang of a harmless stationary can sent flying to the other end of the hangar. A fourth and a fifth shot followed, sending two more cans to follow the previous ones’ fate.

Askari’s motions were skillful and purposeful, wasting not a single move. Not a single word came from his mouth as he went from the first five closer cans to the further ones, but he breathed easy, letting his lungs fill up and empty out. He didn’t even look at the reactions of the rest - he couldn’t even hear what they were saying. He merely continued, his body merely going through the motions as once more, he started firing.

One shot, and the first of the fifty-meter cans was sent flying. Another shot, and there went the second. And then the third. And then the fourth. Nine out of ten, one left, and for a moment, Askari thought of intentionally missing the last one - he had already won their little game, after all - but his honor, measly as it is, would not let him. If the others truly did give their all, then he thought to himself that he should do the same. And with one last pull of his trigger, the last can was sent flying, leaving the shipping crates empty for the first time.

For a moment, Askari let himself enjoy the rush, for it had been long since he had been able to do the activity with anyone other than his own shadow.

“Well done,” he heard Ariana say.

“Ah, right,” Ask then said, chuckling as he clicked the safety on his Predator. He turned to her, his smile back on his face. “As I’ve said before, this is how I usually do my target practice.”

“Better you than the arrogant turian, at least,” she said, referring to Domitian with smirk. “If you ever need anyone to do maintenance on your equipment, then don’t be afraid to ask,” she then said with a more honest smile towards him.

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer,” Ask said with a matching smile before turning to Brask and Domitian.

“Don’t feel bad, by the way,” he said, giving the two other men a nod. “I’m a sniper - it’s my one and only job to make sure I hit the target, but it’s a much easier job when I don’t have to worry about getting my own head blown off,” he told them, referring to their own roles on the field.

“And besides,” Askari then added. “I’m probably not the only one in this room that could have hit all ten,” he said, glancing over to where Keelo was ‘helping’ Cog.

 

[Griff4815]

She found herself by the cargo elevator leading to the hangar, and Keelo was there too, clearly about to take it.

"Keelo," she said in greeting. "It's nice to see you again. How are you finding the ship? You seemed pretty excited about it earlier."

Noticing movement out of the peripheral of his one-way mask, the quarian in question turned towards the voice.

"Oh, Melanie," he greeted with a disarming smile that he was confident that she couldn't see. "Yes, it is very fascinating. I loved the tour that they gave us. I was hoping to explore at my own pace at some point." Keelo sheepishly rubbed his arm and chuckled a bit. "Although I don't think they want me going near the drive core."

"Vehicles of all sizes fascinate me, but I am particularly drawn to military-grade starships. The amount of energy output required in order for them to function in a full-pitched, heated battle... The specs must be amazing compared to civilian vessels," he mused. "Most of the military vessels at the flotilla have been repurposed for civilian usage, so it is rare that I get to see a frigate that matches its original specifications. In fact, I have never been on a turian ship before. I'm interested to know what additions Elkoss Combine made to the ship when they procured it."

Keelo rubbed the back of his neck. "But I could geek out over starships all day. I was just about to take the elevator down to the cargo hold, if you are also headed that way. I hear some of the others are shooting down there," he explained.

Stepping into the elevator, Keelo waited for it to descend to the hangar. He looked over at Melanie. "How are you feeling? You look much better than before," he noted, able to tell that Melanie was no longer wincing or hunched over with pain. He was relieved to see that.

"It seems like the crew of the Shanxi is very busy," he also noted. "We must be departing from Omega soon." He was about to say something about how he'd like to get away from the station as quickly as possible, but he remembered that Melanie was from Omega and he didn't want to offend her. "You are from Omega, aren't you? Will you miss it?" he wondered as the elevator settled on the cargo bay's level.

He stepped out of the elevator with Melanie, listening to her reply. He nodded politely and listened intently, curious about what her life was like. Although they were frequently interrupted by the sounds of gunshot ringing out ahead of them, Keelo intently observed her response. However, before he could get a word in, the quarian was grabbed by Cogwedg.

“You, help. Need more hands. Maintenance, spot check,” the salarian said as he pulled the other engineer to his table, which had already become quite a mechanical mess in what was less than an hour. “Can watch, but hands busy,” he told Keelo, handing him looked to be mods.

"Ah!" Keelo exclaimed, looking at Melanie apologetically was he was pulled away and brought over to Cog's work table. He was surprised that Cog set one up so quickly.

The quarian was given a rifle with a modded scope. Although these were custom mods, they were things that Keelo was used to. Weapons usually had a standardized design to make them more mod-friendly. Keelo inspected the scope and the firing mechanism of the weapon keenly. The nostalgia of being in a weapons mod business washed over him.

“Can use any of equipment. Careful of explosive devices - don’t push any buttons.”

Keelo nodded and then blinked. "Wait, what?"

-​

Brask watched as the others followed his lead in the shooting contest. He observed each of the following competitors with silent interest. Like the others, he was sizing up his teammates. For all the bravado and hot air, that's what this shooting contest was really about and he knew it.

The krogan grunted as Askari finished last, hitting all of the cans. "Hmph," Brask grunted dismissively. "I prefer to be in the thick of the bloodshed anyways. You don't get a rush picking off targets from three blocks away. Talk about watching the fun from the nosebleed section." A large grin crawled onto his face. "Next time, we should do hand-to-hand."

"You know, krogan don't have a monopoly on hand-to-hand combat," Ariana pointed out with a calm, competitive glint in her eyes.

"No, but we've definitely got an edge. You should see our bar fights after one too many ryncol," Brask boasted with a grin.

Despite his words, Brask sized up his competition. As he expected, Domitian proved to have good shooting skills. He had a feeling that his bite was as good as his bark. Brask wondered about the human too. It seemed that his primary role was that of a sniper. Askari definitely had the aim to reflect that.

The krogan was most interested by Ariana, however. He knew that the asari was rough around the edges enough to be a grease monkey, but he didn't expect her to have almost as good aim as he did.

"Well, that was fun," he muttered. "Anyway, if you all want to challenge me again while not using smart aim, you know where I am," he added with a good-humoured grin.

He cricked his neck and began walking away from the group, back towards the elevator. He noticed that Keelo and Melanie had also come down to watch, and that the quarian had been pulled into helping the eccentric salarian.

Brask shook his head. "I'm gonna go get settled in. Maybe look around the ship. See what's on the menu. If we're going to be spending a lot of time here, I want to know we're not choking down pyjak meat. I've got my standards," the krogan said as he walked away.

He wondered when the best time to talk to Kalros would be. He figured he'd wait. She probably wanted to talk with her turian son.

The krogan grunted. Along with good food, he also hoped that they'd have alcohol on the ship. If nothing else, it was good for breaking the ice. He had a feeling he'd need it given some of the company around here.

 

[Clewt]

(So sorry for the delay. I had planned to have this up after I got back from a trip last week, however I got hit with a head-cold. I think I have committed Tissuebox genocide.)


- Brask's right eye twitched. "...How many siblings?" he asked incredulously. "Did she adopt the entire damn orphanage? Damn, I really do need to go talk to her... "

Rosh could not help the soft chuckle that escaped. He could not deny the possibility, she really did take care of most of them at the Monastery, in one way or another.

- "Anyway, I'd better go. Having a shooting match with some of the other down in the ship's hangar. Come if you want. Just don't expect to win," he offered. Brask turned away from Rosh, pivoting his large body around. "Might check out the turian chef after and... see what's on the menu."

- Brask glanced over his shoulder at Rosh and gave him another once over with his sharp emerald eyes. "Later,"

Rosh raised a hand in kind, not having anything else to say. Hearing the door slip shut, he dipped his head and remained still in the silence that followed. He sighed, taking his time with deciding what to do next.

After several minutes, he jerked up from the table and grabbed his jacket off the bed. Out the door he went, taking a slow pace down the rather quiet hallway. He slid the jacket on while ambling to the room he knew Jaraha.. well.. Kalros had taken as her own.
He stopped, standing rigid in front of the door. Rolling stiff shoulders and cracking his neck, Rosh respectfully knocked.

He anticipated what kind of greeting he would receive.. But it never happened..

After a decent amount of time he repeated the action.
A few seconds pass by before he finally spoke up, “It’s me..” He called out just loud enough to be heard through the door.
The lack of response stretched on and Rosh glanced up and down the hall for a moment. Either the room was empty or... she was ignoring him. The dark Turian groaned, twisting around to thump his back against the wall near the door frame.

He would wait.

He had no motivation to go anywhere else. At least until he rid himself of this rare touch of nervousness that had plagued him since seeing his adoptive mother.

Lifting his right arm, the Omni-tool came to life with a faded blue light.
Like a well ingrained habit, he started to systematical input names and data he had mentally cataloged since his arrival on Omega. Only a few minutes in and his attention had already flipped to looking up surface information he could find on a few of the members. He did not bother to search too hard, satisfied with just whatever a he could find with ease for now.
Both Brask and Askari came up through connections for Mercenaries, as expected. No personal files on either could be found with a basic search, however.

Domitian, as a Turian, ended up being one of the quickest to look up. Civil Service and Military files took little effort for Rosh to hack into, having done it quite a few times in the past. Nothing he found surprised him considering what he had seen in person since meeting the other Turian. After skimming through a few mission briefings and service reports, his thoughts were side-tracked with imagining what he would have become had he enlisted as well. He wondered if he would have had the same difficulty fitting in.
He hummed, ending his speculation and moving on.

After several attempts, he could not find a single shred of personal information on Melanie. Rosh finally gave up and deactivated the omni-tool with a grunt. Far too many humans shared names and he lacked background to use any more keywords.
Feeling himself drift, he chose to leave the others for later. Folding his arms, his head dropped along with his eye-lids. With the hallway still vacant, sleep took over within seconds.

 

[Solsabre]

Keelo smiled a bit and looked over at the female krogan. "Still, it is your homeworld," he responded. "There must be a few things good about it."

Jahara remained silent. The few good things, her sisters and him, were centuries long gone. She stopped that line of thought. The ghosts of the past helped little in her current situation.

Keelo stopped and winced. "Err, I'm sorry. I don't mean to imply that I know more about your own homeworld than you do," he insisted apologetically. "It's just, us quarians don't have our own homeworld anymore, and I--" He stalled again, realising that he didn't know where he was going with that sentence and there was a good chance that he would just make a bigger faux pas.

The female krogan waved off Keelo’s concerns. She knew she had her triggers to make her snap, but she’d learn to smooth out the reaction in the face of heart-felt sincerity over the years. She was beginning to doubt this quarian could do anything to upset her, unless it was something utterly stupid.

Keelo smiled and fixed the device back into the helmet. "There, I'm finished. It should be as good as when you last used it, although you will have to check out the helmet's mini-suite for yourself," he explained.

The quarian began placing the tools back into the toolbox. "Anyways, if you'd like, I can take the tools down to Ariana. I was planning on watching the others shoot," he explained.

"It was really nice talking with you, Kalros. I will see you later."

Jahara watched as the quarian departed. “You as well...young one.” she called softly, setting aside her pistol and grabbing the repaired helmet.

The krogan female held the newly repaired helmet in her three-fingered hands studying the repair job. Satisfied with the quarian’s seamless work, the biotic inserted the helmet back over her head with a click. The hub display lit up with status read outs for the armor’s systems. Going through each software program carefully, Jahara fine-tuned the armor settings to her preference with an adjustment here and there. She tested the voice synthesizer to ensure the repairs were in order. A low monotone voice replaced her gruff tenor in the space of the quarters.

The process only took ten minutes before the shaman felt everything was green. Packing away her bag in a storage locker beneath the bed, Jahara rose to stretch in the cramp quarters, carefully rotating her right shoulder as far as she could.

The armored biotic considered what to do next. She suspected quite a bit of down time until they reached their destination for the first debriefing. Figuring she’d take the opportunity to study her new teammates a bit, Jahara left her quarters and headed straight for the hanger.

__________________________

A small crowd gathered outside the hangar entry as the shooting competition got underway. Jahara, decked out in full armor again, arrived just as Brask was taking the first turn. Leaning comfortable against the back wall, the female krogan studied the young krogan’s stead posture as he worked his way through the targets. Jahara gave credit where credit was due; the whelp’s skills were better than the average krogan.

When Ariana step up next, Jahara crossed her arms, eager to see what the asari could do. The armored krogan wasn’t disappointed in her original assessment of the engineer. Jahara had recognized the careful work and obvious passion reflected in the heavily modded weapon on the asari’s worktable when the krogan came by for the tools and materials to repair her helmet. One seldom builds functional weapons to simply look and appreciate them. She figured the engineer did her own testing of the mods.

Jahara couldn’t decide if she should view Domitian’s run through, disturbing or not. Clean, professional, but very deliberate and calculating with each shot, like a hunter zeroing in on his prey. He was too much like another blood-thirsty krogan male from her past. The unwanted memory lead her to subconsciously brush the outside of her left thigh armor, where a jagged scar laid hidden.

The human male, Askari, intrigued her the most. A bland, unassuming human male greeted her shielded eyes on first impressions. However, she felt he was the type that showed you what they wanted you to see. They were a type very difficult to pin down as they were near impossible to read. Of course, Jahara could only theorize this based on centuries of experience with races she’s encountered. Her experience with reading human expression and body language was still somewhat limited.

With all the cans shot down, the contest was over with Askari with a clean win. Jahara spied an unused can in the far back corner forgotten on a stack of crates. She tilted her helmet to the side, gauging the distance. Not an impossible shot with a controlled biotic burst by any means, however, Jahara preferred not to showcase the full extant of her abilities in front of the whole group. The temptation to up one on the males lasted all of ten seconds fortunately. Perhaps, later when the hangar was empty during the ship night cycle, she get in her own practice with her weapons and biotics.

She pushed off the wall and left the hangar before the others took much notice of her presence.


______________________________________________________

The journey back to their quarters was uneventful. Most of the party had been in hangar to begin with and the crew at their respected stations. However, she was met with one surprise -or unsurprisingly- waiting outside her quarters. Shaking her helmet, Jahara covered the remaining distance with careful steps. At least as quiet as a krogan in full armor could hope to achieve.

The krogan female approached her door, planting a three-fingered hand firmly on the dozing turian’s shoulder to shove him to the side. Hard.

“Get off your a**, pyjak,” Jahara scowled at the flailing turian. “I see some things haven’t change, despite my best efforts.”

She ducked into her quarters without a glance back.

 

[storymasterb]

"Oh, Melanie," he greeted with a disarming smile that he was confident that she couldn't see. "Yes, it is very fascinating. I loved the tour that they gave us. I was hoping to explore at my own pace at some point." Keelo sheepishly rubbed his arm and chuckled a bit. "Although I don't think they want me going near the drive core."

"They're probably just being cautious," Melanie murmured. "If the drive core goes wrong, the whole ship could go up. No offense meant, I'd worry more about Cog than you on that front. He has a pretty unhealthy enthusiasm for tampering with things."

"Vehicles of all sizes fascinate me, but I am particularly drawn to military-grade starships. The amount of energy output required in order for them to function in a full-pitched, heated battle... The specs must be amazing compared to civilian vessels," he mused. "Most of the military vessels at the flotilla have been repurposed for civilian usage, so it is rare that I get to see a frigate that matches its original specifications. In fact, I have never been on a turian ship before. I'm interested to know what additions Elkoss Combine made to the ship when they procured it."

"I couldn't help you," she said with an apologetic smile. "The only tech I'm that familiar with is computers and alarm systems, that kind of thing. Ships are way above me." She chuckled at her own pun. "I'd say ask Domitian, since I'm pretty sure he's ex-military, but that'd mean having a conversation with Domitian and dealing with his pompous ass."

"How are you feeling? You look much better than before," he noted, able to tell that Melanie was no longer wincing or hunched over with pain. He was relieved to see that.

"I'm good," she said, her smile turning sincere. "Like I said, it's my implant. Not a lot I can do with it in a place like Omega and it hasn't got me killed... yet. Might one day, but not so far."

"It seems like the crew of the Shanxi is very busy," he also noted. "We must be departing from Omega soon." He was about to say something about how he'd like to get away from the station as quickly as possible, but he remembered that Melanie was from Omega and he didn't want to offend her. "You are from Omega, aren't you? Will you miss it?" he wondered as the elevator settled on the cargo bay's level.

"Yeah," she nodded, glancing at the elevator's side and wondering why it moved so glacially slow. "Omega's... it's not really where I'm from. But it's the closest thing I have to home. It's grimy and harsh and cruel, but it's home. Wouldn't say I'll miss it, exactly, but it's weird to leave home in any case. Let alone on a mission like this. "

The elevator opened and they stepped out, the sounds of gunfire ringing to them from across the hold. Melanie glanced around, taking the space in again. It felt empty, like there was supposed to be more here. She guessed that when this ship was still in active service with the turians, it would have held supplies or troops or ground vehicles in this hold, the wall opposite the elevator definitely seemed like it could become a ramp. But Elkoss had only left some crates and cans down here.

Cogwedj accosted Keelo suddenly, making her jump a little as well and her hand fall to her pistol. She relaxed, watching Keelo be dragged away and wondering whether to intervene or go watch whatever was going on with the others. She settled on the latter, keeping one eye glancing at Keelo in case he showed any sign of wanting to be far, far away from the salarian.

She arrived in time to catch the tail end of the contest, seeing Askari's finish and smirking as Domitian took it in.

---

"Well, well, it seems I have been surpassed," Domitian chuckled, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "I will endeavour to return the favour, Askari." His fist tightened a little, hard as his intent. He noticed Melanie observing the contest and her smirk made him chuckle again.

"I see you're not as good as you seem to think," the human woman said.

"Perhaps that is so," he answered. "But defeat such as this is temporary and all I must do is strive to overcome it. If I am not dead, I can grow stronger."

"What doesn't kill you," Melanie murmured. "I'd have thought you'd be the type to freak out about losing."

"I am not thin-skinned, child," Domitian chided. "This was a petty contest with no consequences. I can suffer someone being better than me in such circumstances. As I said, I endeavour to return the favour."

"You didn't seem to consider it petty when you were grandstanding about shooting eight cans," she deadpanned. Before the conversation could continue, a siren wailed across the deck.

"All crew and passengers, the Shanxi is now leaving dock," Hec Brann declared over the intercom. "All crew to your active stations."

"That's my cue," Ariana said with a smile around the group. "Gotta make sure the ship doesn't blow up on us." With that, the asari strode away.

"Any idea where we're heading?" Melanie asked, to general signs of 'no idea'.

"Passengers, please gather in the comms room for additional briefing," Hec Brann added as if in answer.

---

The comms room hadn't really been designed to hold ten people, let alone with two krogan in that number, but it was the most private space on the ship. Therefore, the eight recruits, plus Hec Brann and Gatatog Reor were stuffed into it.

The volus had brought up a map of the systems surrounding Omega on the screen at the back of the room.

"The facility from which the target was stolen was located here, in the Sigurd's Cradle cluster," he explained with a gesture aided by a pointer. "This was three days ago local time. However, the assailants sustained damage during their assault, and we believe it severe enough for them to be forced to seek shelter and repairs before continuing to whatever their intended destination is." He typed a command into the console, bringing up a video. "This is security footage recovered from the facility after the attack."

The footage displayed a brilliant starfield, with only weapons emplacements and a stretch of steely grey wall to indicate the facility it belonged to.

"Was this footage chosen because it was all you had or because it was best placed to prevent us identifying the precise location?" Domitian noted.

"Because it was the only footage which captured the attacking ship," Brann replied. As if on cue, the ship swooped into view, loosing shots into the facility which made the video tremble. It was a jet black frigate with no markings, dark as the void between the stars behind it. To Domitian's eyes it was clearly a ship of human make.

"Why is there no response?" the turian asked after a moment. "Why was the ship not detected by the facility's sensors?"

The volus looked away. "I cannot answer that question, Palaven-clan. If I had the answer to that question, it would be of great help to many of us."

"But there's gunfire," Melanie noted. It couldn't be heard, but she could see lines of fire lancing into the void, some punching into the dark ship.

"Automated defenses," Domitian replied. "That is what I find curious. The only response I can ascertain is automated turrets firing on an unauthorised intruder, or I presume that is what those are?" Brann nodded and he continued. "Was any communication received from the guards? Or was your only indication that this happened sensor warnings?"

"Sensor warnings," Reor rumbled. "You're quick on the uptake, turian."

Melanie frowned. "There were guards, right?"

"A sizeable contingent, in fact," the volus confirmed. "Not one of them raised the alarm or responded to communications we sent in response to the sensors alerting us of this unauthorised vessel. We thought initially that they were killed so quickly they could not respond, but when we investigated, several had clearly been slain at close quarters."

"The intruders boarded the facility, slew everyone in their path, made off with your item, and not one guard sent a call for aid?" Domitian wondered. "Are you certain communications were not jammed?"

"If they had been, we wouldn't have received the sensor alerts, the only things which indicated something was wrong."

The turian tapped his claws on the console next to him, running one up and down it enough to leave a light groove in the surface. "How... vexing."

"In any case, this is the vessel. Profile suggests it is of human make," Brann said. "From the size, we assume a frigate equivalent in scale to the Systems Alliance ship Normandy, for instance."

"But not in capability," Domitian noted. "As far as I am aware, the Normandy possessed a revolutionary thermal cloaking system that this vessel lacks if your sensors detected it." He paused in thought, his interest aroused by the problem. "Perhaps it possessed some means of incapacitating your guards."

"That is a possibility we have considered," the volus said. "But the slain guards showed no sign of being disabled in a consistent manner."

"Hm. In any case, this is a puzzle for another time," the turian noted. "Should you discover more, however, it would be prudent to inform us so we can prepare for their capabilities. Where do you suspect they would seek repairs? Presumably not Omega, or we would not be leaving."

Brann paused the video with a key press and brought up the map again. "There is a station in the Fafnir's Claw system near Sigurd's Cradle which offers repair services. Given the damage sustained by the vessel, we suspect they would have had to run at reduced speed to avoid stressing the drive core unduly, thus it would have taken them some time to arrive, as there is no direct relay route between the two systems. If our luck holds, they will still be there and we can jump to Sigurd's Cradle from the Omega Relay, then proceed to Fafnir Station in the hopes of catching them."

"Then there is precious little time to waste. Let us proceed to this system and bring this to a swift end," Domitian chuckled.

"How much time will it take to get to Fafnir Station?" Melanie asked.

"Allowing for the time taken from here to the Omega Relay and from the Sigurd Relay to the station, about a day in total," Brann concluded. "It is difficult to estimate how long their repairs will take, but assuming significant delay in reaching the station due to the damage they sustained, we should arrive before the repairs are complete."

"Then as I said, we have precious little time to waste, for reality is rarely as one expects," Domitian declared. "Unless we wish to spend more time questioning the circumstances?"

 

[Tundra_Wolfmane]

"Well, well, it seems I have been surpassed," Domitian chuckled, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "I will endeavour to return the favour, Askari."

The named human was quick to raise his hand, along with his Predator, and paint a sheepish and slightly intimidated look on his face. “Now, now, like I said, my aim is because I’m a sniper. I’m not any good of one if I couldn’t do this,” he told the turian with a small smile. “And I’m not nearly as good when I’m under pressure, so I would really appreciate it if you could help on that part,” he said, although it looked like Melanie had picked that moment to interrupt.

Askari let himself look relieved, quietly clicking the safety back on his Predator. Just a little precaution, in case Domitian’s look meant the kind of danger that Ask was quite used to dealing.

He then blinked. It was then that he realized it. He was being watched. It had taken him a while - he was focused on their competition as well as their subsequent reaction to his marksmanship - but he finally placed the odd feeling he had.

Ask turned his head towards the direction. He was met with the retreating form of an armored Krogan.

He smiled a bit.

-​

At the announcement that the ship would be departing, Cogwedj was ecstatic. He was about to make a beeline for the engines and drive core, amongst other things, to bask and observe in their mechanical wonder at work. Before he could do that, however, Ariana - who had the foresight to know what the salarian was thinking - had appeared and grabbed him by the collar and threw him out of the hangar.

And so it was in the conference room that the sulking salarian scientist and engineer sat with folded arms and an obvious frown on his face.

Ask wasn’t sure if he was listening to the conversation or not, but he could see that the video, at least, had garnered Cog’s interest. “Fascinating,” he heard Cog say with rapt attention.

The salarian’s large wide eyes never looked away from the screen as he took out his omni-tool and started putting down notes. He couldn’t see what Cog was inputting, but whatever it was, it had definitely pulled him out of the flunk that he had.

Askari merely listened as the others talked. It was what he was good at, listening, and then picking out information that he thought was important. But in such a situation, it looked like almost everything that was being spoken was pretty significant. Ask was hardpressed to find anything that stood out from the rest.

Of course, that was probably because he felt that Hec was still hiding something important from them. And while he didn’t want to press - he usually used other means to find information he needed or wanted - it felt too much like they were being tossed straight into the mouth of hell.

“Odd,” Cog then spoke up, looking at Hec. “Certain this is only relevant images? What of internal surveillance? Surely physical features and appearance of the assailants pertinent to mission success.”

“That depends on how smart they were,” Ask then decide to speak up. “They could have destroyed video records and surveillance cameras, but that would mean having prior knowledge of where everything is, as well as access to such rooms. After all, I’m sure an esteemed company like Elkoss wouldn’t have spared any expense to safeguard something so important that you’d hire mercenaries such as ourselves to get it back. But really, that wouldn’t explain how you have a video of the ship.”

Askari then smiles innocently. “Unless, of course, you simply don’t want us to see what exactly they procured from the station.” He then leaned against the wall behind him.

“There’s also another possibility - traitors. Which in a company this big shouldn’t be so surprising,” Askari added, thinking to himself. “Were all crew members accounted for? Also, I’d like to know each particular way the crew were killed. I’d like to know what kind of weapons we might be going against.”

 

[Griff4815]

Brask leaned against the wall of the comm room, arms folded. The krogan listened to Hec's explanation of events. He didn't trust the volus completely, but he didn't have any choice but to go along with what he wanted for now. Brask wasn't planning anything malevolent against his employers, but he was suspicious. His intuition told him that there was something they weren't being told. He wanted to protect himself in case things went bad.

The krogan watched intently as the surveillance footage of the facility was displayed for their benefit.

Watching from the other side of the comm room, somewhat squished between Kalros and Melanie, was Keelo. The quarian's eyes lit up upon seeing the ship. He immediately recognised it as a human-made frigate, but it didn't fly Systems Alliance colours.

Brask also frowned deeply upon seeing the ship. It wasn't what he was expecting. "Looks like it's not Batarian pirates," he observed, dismissing his first guess. "Unless they managed to get themselves a ship like that somehow."

The krogan definitely felt that something was wrong as Domitian voiced the contradictions of the situation. It was glaringly unusual that the guards didn't raise a communication to Elkoss Combine when they were under attack. Between the automated turrets detecting and firing on the unknown vessel and the close-quarters combat, there would have been plenty of time for the team to send a distress signal. The attackers would have had to land, disembark, and storm the facility. That isn't something that can be done in under five minutes, even with a seamless operation.

"If it was one idiot asleep on the job, then sure, but a full contingent of trained guards... there's no way there could be incompetence of that scale," Brask pointed out.

The krogan glanced over at Askari, who spoke up with his thoughts. He didn't trust the human at all. He didn't trust his smiles and his happy-go-lucky attitude. Brask wasn't sure why, but something about him just seemed artificial...

However, he voiced an opinion that crossed Brask's mind as well. "Yeah, it could've been traitors in your own company," Brask agreed. He turned and looked at Hec. "I'm sure it's different back at Elkoss HQ, but out in the Terminus Systems, you only have to turn around to trip over a corrupt asshole. Maybe one of your guys was bribed by whoever these thieves are."

Keelo remained mostly quiet. He had been trying to deduce who the attackers were based on the model of the ship. "Could they be human pirates?" Keelo suggested. "There are no markings of the ship and the entire hull was given a new paint job, which suggests that it is a group who doesn't want to be recognised."

The quarian sheepishly fidgeted with the green clothing that covered the back of his head. "Although, I realise that sounds somewhat obvious to say..."

As the volus explained what the plan was, Brask stood up straight and nodded. "Sounds simple enough. We catch up to them, intercept them at Fafnir Station, kill them, and get your... whatever back," Brask enumerated. The krogan's emerald eyes narrowed slightly. "Almost too easy..."

While they were at Fafnir Station, he planned to keep one eye on the enemy, and one eye on Gatatog Reor. Once they received the mysterious item that Hec didn't want to reveal the identity of, Brask wanted to be sure that Reor and his team wasn't going to turn around and eliminate any witnesses as soon as they were done. Some would consider Brask paranoid, but he would say that it's better than being dead. He wanted to be sure that he made it out in one piece. After all, there were many foods and aliens that he still had yet to enjoy.

"Then as I said, we have precious little time to waste, for reality is rarely as one expects," Domitian declared. "Unless we wish to spend more time questioning the circumstances?"

"I'm afraid I don't have any helpful theories," Keelo put forward. "Not without more evidence from the facility where everything took place..."

The quarian looked at the Elkoss representative. "What can you tell us about Fafnir Station? Is it very populated?"

"We'll find out when we get there," Brask responded, folding his heavy arms. "I just want to get prepared so that we can touch down on the station prepared. We don't know how large the enemy force is or what kind of weapons they're packing." He looked at Hec Brann. "If there's nothing else you can tell us, I'd rather we spend the rest of the time making sure we don't get blown to space dust."

Keelo felt a twinge of nervousness at the prospect of more combat. "I assume this ship is prepared for ship-to-ship combat," Keelo put forward. "If such a situation arises, I will help in any way that I can."

"Not much chance of that if they're docked in the station, quarian," Brask responded. "What we should do is storm their ship and capture it. Force them to fight on our terms. That'll be where they're keeping the item, anyways..."

As he spoke, Brask briefly glanced over at Kalros and Rosh, passively wondering if they ever ended up speaking to each other. It didn't matter to him, but he found himself getting curious about them for some reason. He put it out of his mind. If the mission went as planned, he'd leave and probably never see them again. Any of them. That was how Brask preferred it. Although he wondered if there were any willing bed partners he could have some fun with before parting ways. He figured there were plenty of eligible candidates on their little frigate...

 

[Clewt]

Jointly Written with Solsabre.
Characters: Jahara/Kalros & Rosh
Location: Personal Quarters
_______


An arm shot out at the sudden loss of balance before the Turian even opened his eyes. He half-yelped and growled as he barely managed to keep himself from meeting the floor.

“Get off your a**, pyjak,” Jahara scowled at the flailing turian. “I see some things haven’t changed, despite my best efforts.”

Jerking his blurred vision towards the familiar voice, Rosh’s startled state immediately dissolved to minor annoyance. Previous apprehension sunk back into his chest and without a word, he followed the Krogan into the room.

Jahara maneuvered in the cramped quarters once more setting herself onto the flat surface of the bed. A side kick to the desk chair scooted it closer to the entrance, a quiet invite to her wayward son. A familiar snap and hiss sounded through the small room as the female krogan removed her helmet, revealing her face wholly to Rosh.

Feeling the door close behind him, Rosh remained on his feet even after the chair conventionally moved his way. His attention became momentarily distracted with ensuring his adoptive mother looked well. Even though quite aware she was fully capable and then some, he still could not help the concern he held. Though he would never admit it verbally, Rosh felt relieved to see her face again after so many years.


“I imagine you’ve got some questions,” Jahara stated simply. Her previous snappish tone gone.

The dark Turian hummed low, finally settling into the chair. He sat on the very edge, with his elbows planted on his knees and fingers laced.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke up, his voice graveled from his earlier nap. “. . for not getting in touch the last couple of years.”

Jahara peered at Rosh with an intense gaze, noting his discomfort. The unexpected reunion was jarring to say the least, probably not helped by her bullying him verbally back on Omega. Unrepentant by her previous actions, she’d give the turian some slack due to the shock.

“Most of you seldom do, once you leave.” She stated matter-of-factly. The biotic expected the same of the troublesome turian when the time came, but surprise crossed her reptilian features the first time she heard back from him. Privately, she enjoyed the occasional correspondence of his progress in life. When the messages finally ceased, she’d resignedly accepted that he’d moved on or that the worst happened.

Black painted mandibles twitched, and Rosh had difficulty keeping eye contact. Truly he had a million questions he wanted to rattle off, but his guilt won out first.
The Turian cleared his throat and sat up.
“But.. Umm, yes… What are you doing taking on contract work?” No longer speaking in a mellow tone, he overcame his earlier hesitation. Only his deep-seated respect held him back from showing just how taken aback he had been from their abrupt reunion.

Jahara considered the question for a moment, while staring at his dodging eyes. Really, the answer was simple. The biotic female gave a small sigh and rest her head against the bulkhead.

“Hard times have hit us in the last year with poor crop, a rash of sickness, and troublesome new policymakers in charge trying to suck the colonists dry of everything valuable.” She paused to take a breath, a look of irritation crossed her leathery features. “Of course, the Sisters forbade me from dealing with that last problem directly myself.”

The Turian hummed, recalling similar hard times in his youth at the monastery. He had his reasons for staying as long as he did and even after moving on, he had sent money back after a good pay day. Rosh felt eternally indebted to the Sisters and other children. He had been quite a handful for them for a few years.

A three-fingered fist tighten, popping the knuckles. “The last monetary reserves were used to barter supplies for the last quarter. We didn’t have any other choice but to consider other means of earning revenue.”

Jahara spat in disgust, “Unfortunately, we krogan are only good for bashing bodies into a bloodied pulp, hence why I’m here.” She omitted that Elkross approached her first about the job, before she even had a chance to announce Kalros’s return to the mercenary circles.

”Still..” The Turian could not help the mumble of reproach, but he bit his tongue. He did not have any right to criticize even if it came from worry. He also held doubts this was the first time she had ever taken such a job.

“What about you? I didn’t think you had the stomach for this line of work.” She surveyed the turian with a crucial eye. Yes, she hadn’t seen him for a long time, but he appeared somewhat out of it and not just because of the shock of seeing her again.

The last remark caused him to partially laugh that ended in a long sigh.
“ ’Line of work,’ ” he repeated thoughtfully, “You know of the missing persons cases I have taken.”
He sat up as he mentally put his words together. “Over the decades I have had to learn to stomach... many things.”

Jahara grunt with a slight nod, conceding to his point. When they were still in connect, he’d described a few of the cases vaguely. She knew enough... from her own experiences to fill in the rest of the picture on her own.

The omission brought on brief memories of some his worst investigations, all of which he reburied for the time being. He was here to rekindle a distanced relationship, not reminisce on tragedies.
The thought had however brought on a sense of self awareness to differences since their last meeting. For some reason it had completely slipped his mind till this moment and she would no doubt want at least some explanation for the new marks. For now, unless she asked, he would not trouble himself with drawing attention to it.

He cleared his head as well as his throat to continue where he had left off.
“As far as this job in particular.. Honestly it was not originally mine to take, but for the same reason; Money. Two years with only a few stray cases solved leaves the dinner table pretty sparse of food.”

He drew back and relaxed into the chair, habitually folding his arms in the same motion. His mandibles angled down to a degree, and he let out a low short trill.
“And also an excuse to get me off the planet.” He added, remembering the insistence of his friends to leave the colony for a while.

“Settled on a planet finally did you,” Jahara stated, her sharp eyes took in the turian fully. The black marking were new and she might not have recognized him immediately if not for hearing his distinctive voice first. “I take it you finally met someone?”

Her expression softened slightly. While her mind easily concluded that possibility, something else felt off. Her Rosh was too quiet, subdued.

“Aah.. this..” Rosh spoke low as he gingerly ran finger tips across the marks. “No.. Not quite.”

Pale violet eyes shifted away from his mother's gaze and grew distant.
“It’s a memento..” He murmured low enough that his vocals lost their dual-tone. He tilted his head to the side and leaned back.

“The last message I sent you..” He began with renewed energy in his voice, a determination to overcome his weak sentiments, “I think I mentioned the case; the biotic murders..” He forced the words out even as recalling it after so long still caused his insides to ache.

He continued with an emotionally detached tone, “ I had to work with local police after taking up the assignment. My job to find one missing human girl quickly had a body count of fourteen by the time I figured out what happened to her. By the end we did find survivors.. five to be exact, including the teenager I was looking for.”

“After my official work was done, at the hospital, one of the.. victims... I took her in.” His sub harmonics betrayed his true feelings even as he kept his voice steady. “My time with her was brief.”

“She-” Rosh nearly choked on his next words when an alarm startled him. His groan in response morphed into a deep growl as a voice relayed information over the intercom.

Jahara craned her head to the side listening, snorting slightly. The blaring alarm distracted her from catching her son’s tight tone. “It seems we’ll have to finish at a later opportunity.”

The female krogan grabbed the newly repaired helmet beside her, securing it once more with the black camo armor. Quickly the small quarters became crowded as she stood and attached the Acolyte pistol to a hip. Looking over her shoulder, Kalros beckoned Roshiovis to follow as they made their way to the comms room.

“It is good to see you again, Rosh.” Jahara’s tenor voice carried from the helmet, before activating the voice modulator.

The Turian genuinely smiled as he followed behind her, a comfortable warmth easing away the tension he had been carrying.

 

[Solsabre]

The armored krogan filed into crowded comms room and found herself with Keelo on her one side and Rosh on the other. Leaning up against the back wall, she crossed her arms together listening intently to the purpose of their mission.

The brief video played showing the unknown human vessel swooping down and attacking the station.

“Bold move,” Kalros interjected, the voice modulator operating normally as it had at the beginning of the mission. Her own thoughts stirred at the situation. “Or the raiders simply got lucky… How many workers and guards were stationed at the facility? The raiders would almost need to be or close in strength of numbers to overwhelmed the guards, unless they had prior knowledge of the station layout and security forces.”

The female krogan’s questions overlapped with the human male, Askari. Hec wasn’t providing them with a very detailed picture and Jahara hated going into a combat situation blindly. Though not visible through the helmet, she scowled with distrust. Corporations like Elkross usually had their own decent information networks to protect themselves and keep up competitors. She had dealt with corporate sabotage before.

“Do you have any competitors who would stand to benefit from the theft?” Jahara blatantly asked. She worded the question carefully instead of outright asking who their current enemies were, plus it might lend some insight to the nature of the stolen object. “If the possibilities were narrowed down, we’d have a better idea of who or what to expect once we catch up.”

The female krogan glanced around the room with a careful eye. It was perhaps the most she spoken to the group at large since being here and she generally preferred to keep attention away from herself. However, the fact that she was female was already out, so she could afford to act more freely for the sake of ease during the mission. She lingered her unseen gaze warily at Reor and Brask as if daring them to try anything.

Stubborn as she could be on relying on her own abilities to hold her own. Jahara did not mind having someone she could trust to watch her back for once. The turian was a comforting presence at her side.

 

[storymasterb]

(Really sorry guys. Work's been fairly hectic and I have anxiety issues where I know I should come back and post but the longer I don't the more anxious about it I get and I work myself into horrible loops)

“Certain this is only relevant images? What of internal surveillance? Surely physical features and appearance of the assailants pertinent to mission success.”

"A few images were captured," Brann nodded, bringing them up. The assailants were dressed all in black and dull silver, like covert ops agents. They stalked the base's spartan corridors in tight, combat-ready formation that spoke of efficient training. Domitian nodded his approval as he looked them over and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Worthy enemies, it would seem. Though as Askari mentioned it, he did notice a distinct lack of the stolen item, save a glimpse of some kind of metal container in the corner of one shot.

"What about the guards?" Melanie asked, following Askari's sentiments.

"All accounted for, some with more difficulty than others," the volus commented. "Their positions were... odd."

"Elaborate," Domitian crooned.

Brann brought up what was presumably a plan of the base, plain enough for it to be clear that labels were missing. A typed command brought up red dots on the image. "Each of these dots is a guard, in the position their corpses were found. The breach through which the attackers entered is here." He gestured to a spot on the plan, illuminating it. "The facility contained advanced sensors which would have alerted security personnel to any such breach and pinpointed the exact location."

Melanie scanned the map, trying to see what was strange. The dots were scattered around, occasionally clustering together where presumably a squad had perished.

"Defensible positions," Domitian thought aloud, running his claws across the image. "These men died in dribs and drabs, some here, some there. If the sensors would have alerted them to the breach, why were they not deployed in containment patterns?" He paused. "Perhaps the bodies were moved post-mortem to create misleading impressions?"

The volus shook his head. "Not unless they were remarkably good at removing and falsifying forensics. All blood splatter and bullets matched up to those positions."

Melanie furrowed her brow. "But that means the guards didn't react to this at all."

"Unusual, to say the least," the turian noted. "If all personnel were accounted for, then it would seem either there was no traitor or those he collaborated with saw fit to remove loose ends rather permanently." He returned his attention to the pictures of the attackers. "I find it remarkable none of your cameras captured them in combat."

"It seems either they were thorough in the extreme in that regard, or that their methods just happened to destroy all cameras which did so," Brann said. "We have no intact footage of the murder of our personnel."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Domitian chuckled.

"What can you tell us about Fafnir Station? Is it very populated?"

"Reasonably so," Brann said, bringing up relevant data on the screen. "Population of 200,000. A smaller, less corrupt Omega, if you will. It trades mostly in mechanical expertise, offering repairs and fuel to passing ships in exchange for currency or favors. Lawless, but in a civil manner."

"Discreet, presumably, judging by our enemies' love for secrecy," Domitian queried, receiving a nod. "Well, I certainly hope the locals do not interfere. I would hate to have to make way through them." He chuckled.

Melanie shot him a glare.

“Or the raiders simply got lucky… How many workers and guards were stationed at the facility? The raiders would almost need to be or close in strength of numbers to overwhelmed the guards, unless they had prior knowledge of the station layout and security forces.”

"The security contingent consisted of around sixty soldiers," Brann said. "We've counted a dozen attackers so far, but given the sporadic nature of the camera coverage and the confusion of the attack, it's possible there are more."

"I don't like those odds," Melanie mused. "There's something we're missing. Those guards didn't react at all. But I don't think the advantage of surprise would carry the attackers through a five to one advantage."

"For once, we agree," Domitian noted. "These attackers are either of prodigious combat skill, which I may grant, or there is another factor involved which explains your guards' lack of a reaction."

“Do you have any competitors who would stand to benefit from the theft?” Jahara blatantly asked. She worded the question carefully instead of outright asking who their current enemies were, plus it might lend some insight to the nature of the stolen object. “If the possibilities were narrowed down, we’d have a better idea of who or what to expect once we catch up.”

"Many, of course," Brann admitted. "The research conducted at the facility was promising. Very promising indeed. Company secrets, naturally. But certainly, if a rival became aware of the subject of that research, they would likely be tempted to acquire it for themselves."

Domitian's eyes narrowed. "Which would necessitate them to assault your facility and steal your research in person rather than attempting to replicate it independently and avoiding the trouble?"

Brann's face was covered, but he had the air of someone who had said too much. "As I said, Palaven-clan, company secrets."

"You mean that whatever was taken was something they couldn't just synthesise or recreate themselves?" Melanie asked.

"Presumably so," Domitian sighed. "I am somewhat unusual in the galaxy in that I find combat enjoyable, others have a rather profound distaste for it, particularly those in the corporate sphere. Oh, they have their tools they will resort to should the need appear, but on the whole, they prefer to fight in their own baffling little ways. If the secret that Elkoss was working on in this facility became known to a rival, I imagine that their first step would be to attempt to replicate it independently, so as to avoid alerting anyone about their knowledge until the time was right. If direct action like this was taken, it was because whatever was worked on in the facility could not be replicated. Thus, it would seem that the item we are seeking is, perhaps, unique."

Brann shook his head and Reor rumbled from his side. "Company secrets. It's none of your concern. Just get it back, get your paycheck, and forget about it."

"Oh, this isn't over," the turian chuckled. "I will play along, certainly, but I would very much like to know exactly what you hide, Hec Brann."

"We should get underway," the volus murmured. "We've spent enough time waiting here so far and our quarry may be gaining a lead."

"I agree," Domitian said. "The sooner we find them, the sooner this mystery can begin to unfurl." He laughed and swept from the room. "If you require me for any reason, even if it be silencing me, you may find me in the hangar. Any who wish to test their mettle may join me, if their egos are not easily bruised by defeat." With that parting taunt, he was gone into the corridors of the Shanxi.

Melanie shook her head. "I'm sure he's going to be a liability at some point. Somehow." She turned to Keelo. "I'm not sure if they're pirates. There's something about that ship... it's too sleek. Too new. I've seen pirate ships, they always seem worn and battered, unless they've just been taken from somewhere." She paused and looked back at the photos of the assailants. They were dark and cold and drilled to perfection, stalking the corridors of the base like walking Death. She caught glimpses of their weapons and armor, one recurring figure bulky and hefting a large rifle with some kind of attachment, another in mighty armor and wielding a shield on one arm, a third at the back sleek and wielding what appeared to be a sniper rifle.

And there was a figure who was always just on the edge of the images, like they were racing to tear past their comrades. Their armor was dark and silver like a nightmare, their helm glaring with a deep crimson visor. Looking at them sent a shiver through her bones and made her skull ache. There was a killer. The lethal intent was clear even in these snapshots.

Who were these people?

"Set course for Fafnir Station," Brann commanded, making her jump as he spoke into the intercom. "With as much speed as can be mustered, Yulik."

"As much speed as can be mustered?" the salarian chattered back. "You're joking surely. That's my standard speed. Slower is not my kind of speed. Haha. Ha."

----

A few minutes later, the ship broke its moorings and detached from Omega, falling into the void of the cosmos. Stars gleamed around it as it speared away from the station towards the Mass Relay which would convey them to the Sigurd's Cradle cluster at relativistic speed.

Aboard, Domitian stood in the hanger, omni-blades ignited as he whirled and slashed, practising combat kata with fierce yet precise motions. There was a deadly lethality to his moves, and had he been surrounded by enemies, each blow would have felled one of them. Some of the crew paused in their duties to look on in curiosity and admiration, while Ariana smirked from her position as she stripped a rifle, made a minute modification and reassembled it.

Melanie sat in her room, pondering the dark phantoms from the security images and the questions Domitian and the others had asked. What awaited them at Fafnir Station? Would the enemy already be gone, or would they have to fight those lethal spectres?

(Leaving a window for more character interaction, but if it's wanted, I can just fast-forward us to Fafnir for a change of scenery and some plot)

 

[Solsabre]

Veska Jahara
Krogan

"Many, of course," Brann admitted. "The research conducted at the facility was promising. Very promising indeed. Company secrets, naturally. But certainly, if a rival became aware of the subject of that research, they would likely be tempted to acquire it for themselves."

A research program, Jahara considered silently. So they were either after the data results or the final product. The female krogan listened with dark amusement as Domitian pounced on the scraplet of information Brann slipped loose.

"We should get underway," the volus murmured. "We've spent enough time waiting here so far and our quarry may be gaining a lead." '

The biotic krogan agreed with the slightist tilt of her helmet. As intriguing as the mystery of their objective was and given the chance to find out she's want to know. However, at the end of the day, Jahara had greater priorities: staying alive to finish this mission and return to the monastry. In an unconscious after thought, she tack on Rosh's well being to that concern as well.

**********

A few hours after the briefing, Jahara emerged from her quarters after a short rest still fully armored. Exiting into the hallway, she stomped down the metal floor of the living section. They only had a short amount of time to prepare for the mission before they reach their destination and she needed to speak with the human biotic. The turian cruiser shuttered momentarily from the engines being pushed to greater speed. Jahara braced a three-fingered hand to steady herself before moving once more.

She studied the non-descriptive doors as she passed by, until pausing at the door she was fairly certain belonging to the human, Melanie. The biotic krogan knocked (pounded) sharply three times to announce her presence. “Kalros,” the synthesized voice implying which krogan on board was unintentionally bringing down the door.

When the door eventually opened, Jahara stood there trying to look relaxed, but detested the necessity of the subject at hand. “A discussion of biotic abilities for cooperative measures would be imperative for mission success.” The statement was void of emotion, almost robotic.

(Okay, hope that's okay, I'm a little rusty)