The Blades of Aurora - Mass Effect RP

[GrievousKhan]

The Blades of Aurora: Chapter I

Planet: Noveria
Time: 0900 hours
Location: Aurora main base of operations; Inner Haven.

The cold winds blowing from the south were like a harsh chorus of banshees screeching away, it was always cold on Noveria. The freezing temperatures outside were, however, of no concern to those within the thermal shielded facility known as Inner Haven. The vast structure was both hidden and primarily built within a rocky outcropping of a vast mountain. It had once been a well hidden and funded research hot lab, complete with its own landing and shuttle station. Ever since the hostile takeover of Noveria Development Corporation, the Aurora had went to great pains in establishing Inner Haven. Expanding the previous facility as well as fortifying it and equipping it with more powerful sensory arrays, thermal shielding and a larger Hanger bay. Many of the extensions included a barracks an armory and advanced medical faculties, but the greatest changes had been installation of quantum communication and command hub. Further changes had seen it fit to add additional floors, now totaling five major floors not counting the sixth and most classified level. The Office and main suite of the now Alliance dubbed, One-Eyed Man.

Donald Armstrong sat before a large and rectangular shaped view screen averaging 15 feet wide and 10 feet high, dressed in clean casual wear. Despite the harsh weather just beyond the thick rocky walls, the screen currently showed a peaceful garden meadow in the country, warm sun shining down from the horizon. A few moments later it shifted to a black screen with hints of white dots here and there, the endless void of space. The entire room was well furnished and decorated to a degree, yet not overly so. As if the owner cared little for such things aside from the practical. Before the view screen was a large desk built from composite materials and dark wood, littered across its surface data-pads could be seen along with a holo-projected keyboard beside an ashtray. A single hover lift chair was positioned just behind the desk, leather lined with commands built into each arm rest. Closer inspection would have revealed the great view screen itself was merely a projection from the wall and not a screen at all. Armstrong sported an almost untouched glass of wine in one hand as his other hand gently rapped on the arm rest his eyes seeming to look beyond the view screen as if in thought. There was indeed much on Armstrong's mind to contemplate.

It had been one week since the completion of project "Polaris" and only now had a proper squad been assembled. It had taken quite some time to assemble them all, some pulled away from other assignments, or before a mission, all wildly different, each with his or her own skill sets and abilities. The only thing they in fact they had in common aside from working in the BOA was that each was among the best Aurora had to offer. Skilled soldiers, hackers, tacticians, and killers. Their ideals and talents would vary, no doubt, but Armstrong had handpicked each of them for those varying skills. They would be the first true task force within Aurora, a fast reaction time to any action in the galaxy that had the credits and need of them. They were also Armstrong's best chance at accomplishing his own personal goals. With any luck they might be the key he had been searching for.

First, however, he would need answers, and that was among their first Assignments. Though not directly of course. He clicked a command on his arm rest, activating a hologram of information that buzzed before his seat. Extending his free hand he placed his hand before him, the tips of his thumb, fore and middle finger glowed a bright orange as he then casually scrolled through a list of names dates and faces all projected before him. The first name and face on the list was a that of a women with skin the color of light brown with a large amount of thin but long black hair bounded up behind her head. Catherine Tindal a born spacer with a tragic story that seemed to only grow more so as time progressed. She possessed a talent for sharp-shooting and infiltrator with a bad reputation involving anything and everything Batarian. Which brought Armstrong to the next on his Dossier, a former pirate and marauder, Tornak was not the type Aurora usually hired on but he was certainly skilled at what he did. Armstrong had been hesitant but Miller had vouched for the Batarian's skill and experience, Miller always knew a good solider when he saw one, though he was more morally flexible in some regards to Armstrong. Still there was no denying Tornak's talents and he had completed his fair share of missions successfully. Thus Armstrong had decided to give the Bararian a chance, for this he was going to need the best Aurora had to offer.

He scrolled down to the man he had entrusted this assignment to, Captain Jonathan Huang. Jonathan's track record within Aurora alone was substantial and when the "Polaris" project had neared completion and the squad assigned to the Polaris was first being formed Jonathan's name was the first to spring to mind. The young captain often reminded Armstrong much of himself when he was his age. He had a talent for command and a healthy concern for those under his command. A ring sounded in a repetitive beep and Armstrong wasted little time quickly clicking tow commands at his armrest in quick practiced succession. Closing the dossier and answering the call.

"Mister Armstrong, the team has been assembled and will meet you in the main Conference Room." came a feminine voice over the intercom. With a sip of wine Armstrong nodded, even though the VI wouldn't recognize the gesture.

"Have them wait there for now, make certain their shuttle is ready after the briefing. We've lost enough time as it is."

"As you wish Mr.Armstrong."

Everything was in place and ready, this team would be a first for Aurora certainly. Never before had such a mix of specialist of various races been formed within Aurora. Or anywhere else that Armstrong knew of, it was even more diverse then the squad the late Commander Shepard had once lead. Which was partly why Armstrong wanted to brief them himself. Few of them had ever seen him personally and fewer had ever worked directly under Donald himself. The hover chair turned about facing the desk and lifted himself out of his seat easily. It was time meet the members of "Polaris" Unit.

OOC

[Zacharius]

Inner Haven, Barracks Fitness Suite

The pounding thud of first against vinyl filled the fitness suite, each successive blow coming faster than the last, before there was barely any time delay between the absorbed blows, the heavy bag beginning to swing slightly, kept in place by a chain attached to the ceiling, archaic, but just as effective as it had always been.

Currently, Jonathan Huang stood alone, although at the volume he was currently playing music into his earpiece, it wouldn't have really mattered if he wasn't, circling the bag, he attacked it evenly at each angle before moving on, at the same time that he was honing his punches, he to practiced remaining light on his feet, even if it didn't equal a true practice spare by any rate. Bare from the waist up, Jonathan's torso and arms were a network of tattoos and scars, he remembered the origin of each of them, as he himself had said My tattoos are scars and my scars are tattoos, each a memory fought for. The darker color of his skin made the myriad of burn scars across his back and abdomen somewhat less noticeable, achieving a rather rugged look, as opposed to simply appearing disfigured. While it wasn't obvious from the pace he was setting, he'd been training for quite some time, his body glistening with a dew-like layer of perspiration, even as the familiar surge of adrenaline began to take hold, pushing him on-wards through the last few paces.

As this did so, his mind began to slip into the instinctive process of close combat, a faint blue aura forming around his fists as he almost subconsciously manipulated the element zero based gifts he had been born with, before striking once with a biotically charged fist, sending the bag swinging up to the ceiling. It was fortunate he wasn't on par with what he considered 'true biotics' or he may have done rather more permanent damage to said bag, instead he simply hopped out of the way and off the cushioned mat around the bag before it could hit him on the rebound. As he did so, his music died down a barely audible base line. He paused for a minute, breathing heavily as he collected himself, allowing his aggression to melt away, replaced instead with the content feeling of a productive workout, before he hit the showers. Despite what various isotonic products may claim, nothing quite equaled the refreshing power of hot water blasted onto you at high pressure, and with the rather efficient nature of military hardware, John was out and drying within a few minutes, when he got the 'call' to get his ass to the conference room. While on other occasions it may have been prudent to show authority by allowing the rest of the team to wait for him, the boss man was going to be present and on a first briefing, it would be best for him to arrive sharpish, and so he changed into his rather smart variant of the alliance officer garb, the dark blue replaced with black, and the cold highlights with a light blue, as seen on the Aurora insignia (minus the ranking shoulders, which were gold). His hair was generally well kept, if slightly rogue in style, although not to an amazing degree, if he was still in command, he would look presentable.

And so he arrived in the designated room, standing in the generic 'at ease' position of military personnel, his hands behind his back and his feet evenly apart, waiting for both his new team and superior to arrive.

[Laurenced]

Inner Haven’s Barrack Shooting Gallery

The cold but soft metal of Icarus felt nice against the Catherine’s cheek, like it cradled her cheek kindly in her position, lying on her armoured stomach. Icarus stared down the line of the hall. Staring at motionless Vis that awaited activation so they could record what was struck each time the thermal discharge was unleash. It was a nice sensation, Catherine saw a face each she stared at one of those emotionless computer programs.

The first was a Salarian, strapped with medical wear. He was a clerk for a doctor’s office, the salarian was an arse. Catherine was ill and worried, Sil’tersh demanded she relinquish her badge, a blue badge coated by a silver teardrop on a blue sword.
Sil’tersh learned that she would never do so. He tried to take it by force and in response Icarus struck him with the metal butt.

As she lay there, Staring at a salarian who wasn’t there. Catherine pulled her guns long trigger and let off a long stream of Thermal plasma that flared the first images hologram, like it had truly exploded in electro-static glory. The next ran across her killing ground and Icarus spied it. This one was a vision of a Batarian, a four-eyed freak to her.

The Batarian was a stain upon the galaxy, enslaving anyone and everyone. She pulled the trigger without hesitation, without empathy and imagined the static flare to be the spray of batarian blood, which left her with a degree of relief, A non-violent sense of relief as she metaphorically avenged the enslaving of her family.

It went on as Icarus struck down those with great hubris, be it from scummy existence or by the arrogant or ignorant, until the chime of the vi called out “Can all of those of the Strike Force please assemble in the Brief room.” She waited as the Vi automatically shut off the Shooting Gallery projection.

Catherine came to her knees and lifted Icarus from its position. She said “Come Icarus, Perhaps we can actually strike someone down soon.” She stood up and made her way to the briefing room, arriving at an elevator that would bring her up quickly enough.

[Sikako J]

Amid communication relay area was fully mechanized VI moving about, following what appeared to be a Salarian of sub-standard height with thin limbs. However, this Salarian looked different. His skin was a dark shade, bordering on black with yellow locations about his body with what looked like markings of injection sites. His eyes were of normal shape, but held a cool blue color that mirrored a water planet’s glow. Dressed in semi-formal labcoat that had been converted to a work wear gear, his hands were encased in a red-white glow that left his thin fingers exposed. He was pacing back and forth as his mechanical assistant followed in toe. Finally he halted and looked to his assistant.

“Has there been any communications yet?” he asked, then quickly answered, “It has been three hours since I have arrived here, I could have already reset your matrix with protocol restrictions due to the most likely motley crew we will come in interaction with. And it is far too cold here, fridgid should have made base somewhere with a beach."

ARIE’s vocal display lit up as it went to speak, “Creator Teepock, your calibrations can be placed now if you require them. Rerouting key points of contact with outside influxes, do you wish to proceed?” The tone mimicked an Asri’s speech, close to an actual sentient being.

Three phrases exited his mouth in quick succession causing ARIE to turn into standby mode, allowing the armor to recced and an access port to be reached.

Teepock calibrated the command matrix as he hummed a tune he had picked up while on his travels. His dark three fingered hand moved over the array of hundreds of small access modules that could be tweaked to change the mannerisms his mech would follow. His cool blue almond shaped eyes gave way to an upward blink as he surveyed the open hatch. He made quick mental survey of the few variations he had made. ARIE would no longer treat all Krogan as hostile targets, she would not speak unless queued or a proper response could be assimilated by fellow crew, she would not go about upgrading unequipped items unless queued.

He knew that ARIE was his greatest creation, her VI programing was bordering on AI levels. Her armor had been modified to withstand blasts that should destroy medium sized mechs. An arc grounding rod would allow electrically charged round to disperse a majority of their energy. Her communications relay and receiver could bypass most jamming devices as well as triangulate most efficient routes of transmission. Despite all the tech placed into her, it was the modeling that fascinated to most others. Her frame was a mixture of Human, Salarain, and Asari proportions. She didn’t look like a true sentient being, however Teepock envisioned the best portions of each to make her appear appealing to others.

Reactivating his prized piece of work, he received a chime overhead calling for the meeting. “It would arise at a time that dailies my work. Other’s always delay to become insolvencies…” He huffed and whispered out, “Run a primary check on customary channels and a sub-reference channel on these company mates. We will make a determination of these few and discover if they can be trusted.”

[OiHarkin]

Inner Haven Barracks Mess Hall

"Now, what have we learned today, children?" smiled Dr Aston Lee, holding a six foot five, two hundred and fifty pound ex-N7 against the ceiling using nothing but murderous thoughts. Around him, the poker game had quickly disintegrated, first from the accusation that someone was cheating - there were a few too many Aces in play - and then from the sudden outburst of biotic fury from Lee. He shook the N7 to get an answer from him. "I said, what have we learned, monkey?" As he shook the soldier, he saw some cards come falling out of the man's pockets, only to get caught in Lee's biotic field and start drifting gently, as if in zero gravity.

"Ff..." The solider struggled against the titanic force pinning him to the ceiling and generally making gravity look like a silly bitch. His face was flushing red with exertion as he pushed against the blue bands of force that were pinning him, but he might as well have tried to arm-wrestle a hurricane for all the good it was doing him. Before he got a chance to finish his profanity, Lee dropped him suddenly to the floor, only to smash him up against the ceiling again.

"I'll make sure you remember it if I have to beat it into you. Don't. Cheat. Biotics!" He let the man down and looked away for a moment, feeling something on his waist vibrate. It was his communicator, delivering a message that the man upstairs wanted to get the field team together for a chat. Well, the man signed the ludicrously large pay cheque so Lee figured he'd better make his way over there. He turned and started walking away, when he heard a click from behind him and felt a bullet bounce off of his barrier. He turned and lashed out against, smashing the pistol the N7 had drawn with a bolt of sheer biotic force. The weapon exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, cutting the man's cheek and hands. As he screamed and bled, Lee tutted and shook his head, motioning to one of the gathered grunts, a Turian. "Get him to the medical bay. I'll sort him out when I'm done with the boss. Don't give him any painkillers, though. He'll learn better that way."

With that, he was away. In the elevator up to Armstrong's office, he straightened his cuffs and collar (wiped away a little blood drop that he'd not noticed before) and got his most professional smile ready, before striding out to meet the boss man.

[kizubu]

Inner Haven Conference Room (Main)

Vegrull was dressed in his usual black attire, casual and inconspicuous, just as he always liked. He wasn't one for standing out. He waited patiently, the soft drone of all the working parts of the building surrounding making his nerves calm. He didn't like silence, silence always meant something bad. Contemplating one moment when he was in a firefight, gunfire ceased, before the roar of engines blared over head before an enemy fighter bomber dropped its payload on his troops.

He snapped out of his daydream luckily pretty quickly, he felt like a Drell occasionally having moments like that, but he supposed anyone who had seen action such as he would always remember clearly. But he was thankful he wasn't able to relive it like Drell had been known to. Vegrull had kept his guns in a case, handed it into the Turian security, who eyed him up, some with admiration, some with horror and disgust, it was all a matter of perspective. But then again, enemies were always a matter of perspective, Vegrull had just found himself on the receiving end of his own kind this time. It hurt him to be judged that way, but he didn't let it bother him, or at least not noticeably so, he was a soldier through and through if there was something he was proud of being it was that, as well as being able to keep himself composed.

He sat down on one of the many chairs used for debriefing, it was odd, not many people seemed to be as eager as he was, however, that was actually quite a lot. Vegrull perhaps had an unhealthy enthusiasm for battle, it was all he seemed to know at this point, people, socialising, talking, they all seemed to have abandoned him like the heat had abandoned Noveria. It didn't bother him, he was only here for the chance to regain his former respect, nothing more. Well, that and some fighting, he missed the adrenaline and sounds of battle, it was horrible but so alluring at the same time. The words of one of his doctors sounded in his head "Displays unhealthy addiction towards combat." Vegrull smirked at the idea, when was combat healthy? Sports? That wasn't real combat, you needed to feel like you weren't safe, like you had to depend on your own skill in order for it to become real life combat. And Vegrull knew all too well how sweet the emotion tasted.

As he waited quietly on his own nearly he had his thoughts, which in his eyes were better than any company he had been with for the past few years. So he remembered his comrades, his men, his fallen brothers. The battles he had fought, maybe he was a washed out soldier, maybe he had gotten too old for combat? But even so, he wanted more...

[MelonHead]

Haven Barracks Mess Hall

For a Batarian, a human mercenary group who opposed slavery and most other unscrupulous activities was a dangerous place to be. There was something about that danger which Tornak found irresistible. He was about average height for a Batarian and human alike, with his four eyes accompanied by a vicious scar, and a body rippling with muscle from a life of toil. He had arrived only recently and was hoping to remain incognito for a while.

Tornak ripped into meat and bread greedily with no regard to table manners, tearing the food apart with his bare hands and ignoring the unfamiliar cutlery and his sides. Mindful that he was expected in the briefing room in a few moments, he looked up and finished his last few bites to observe some fools shouting and gambling. He didn’t bother to work out who they were, he was new and people mistrusted him, with good reason.

A sudden commotion followed by a burst of biotic power and a man was thrown into the ceiling, drawing an amused smirk from the bulky Batarian who stood and prepared to leave. After a few moments the cruel smile fell from his face as he quickly realised the implications of the scene.

“Grah Bal. Stupid humans fight with themselves, fools.” He looked away in disgust and quickly made his way towards the elevator, reaching it before the biotic that had caused the disturbance and taking it up to the level of the conference room. He wore the simple clothes he was accustomed to in traditional style, one reminder of his homeworld, when on mission it would be covered in his hunting armour, most likely augmented with spikes.

The gentle chime of elevator waiting music drew to a stop as the metallic doors opened in front of him, and he strolled into the conference room without a care in the world. Oblivious to the multitude of hostile glances he drew he ignored them all and sat down at an empty chair, both legs raised to rest on the large central chamber.

“Let’s get on with this.” He snarled in his guttural dry voice.

[Synthorian]

Relaxation Room, BOA HQ, Noveria

Death. It was a word that always sprang to this man's mind. He starred out into the icy mountain range in deep thought, dressed in black leather robes, which hid a ballistic vest and many different devices in his sleeves. Death. Everyone dies eventually, and he liked being Grim Reaper's right hand. He was alone, and the room he was in was pretty empty, minimal furnishing, just a large couch facing towards a large panoramic window. His omni-tool beeped and materialized on his right arm. He pushed a holographic button and a human face appeared. "Soul?" it asked. "I-I have what you asked for. All the data I could dig up on this team of yours." Soul simply starred at the man on his omni-tool. "Um...transferring now." Soul's omni-tool beeped again, asking to confirm transfer. Soul accepted, and near instantaneously received files on the supposed team that he was part of. "I had to pull of lot of strings and old contacts from my sleeves. Hope it's worth it." The man seemed a little frightened of Soul. "You have payed off what you owe." His voice was deep and metallic. He pushed a holographic button and severed the connection between him and his contact.

His omni-tool bleeped again, but from someone else this time. The message stated about meeting the team, making Soul immediately leave the room, but in no rush, he was going to take his time, and make them wait. Upon leaving the room he was greeted by a sleek hallway. He turned to the left and made his way to the elevator, which was on the other end of the floor. There were of course others nearby, but he opted on taking a stroll. The people he passed gave him weird looks, as they were either unsure of his attire, or something else. Upon reaching the elevator, he stepped inside, and selected his desired floor, and as the chime of generic elevator music kicked in, he looked at his omni-tool, and began to scroll through a list of recently received files. Each one was named and listed appropriately by name, race, and rank. There was a lot to go by, and Soul would have to read it later.

The elevator let off a ding to signal it's arrival, and the doors opened. Once again, the conference room was quite a trek away, forcing to wander the halls under the watchful eyes of the guards and cameras, and the occasional passer-by. As he moved, he could sense a breeze, a biotic breeze that cycloned through the corridors. Someone was using their power, and someone on the receiving end was very unfortunate. Either way, it didn't matter. Soul had a meeting to get to. He continued on, finding the doors the the conference room. Entering the room, he could that it was already occupied. A man in a black and cyan blue uniform stood in a slack military pose. A couple of others sat on chairs. Soul simply moved over to a corner, cupped his gloved hands into his sleeves, and kept his head bowed towards the ground. He looked like a priest in this position. It was only a waiting game now, seconds ticked in silence as he waited for his contractor to arrive.

[Darkmatter]

'Blood's Call' as it was known by every other race bar Krogan and the occasional Turian or Batatian, was in fact a deeply mixed, double distilled, fine malt liqueur. Absolutely exquisite and probably one of the only pieces of culture from Tuchanka still in existence. It wasn't being manufactured anymore, and each case was rarer and rarer. Knarle had only drank it a dozen times before, with this occasion being the 13th.

Indeed, it was an occasion worth celebrating. Having been selected for the Polaris team, Knarle was at first suspicious. Only six months had he been working for Aurora and he used the term loosely. They gave him haven from his brother, from the STG the TSF and the alliance. Basically, the vast majority of players in the Milky Way, who wanted either his knowledge of the genophage or him dead because of it. His research had been funded well for the occasional excursion he had been asked to participate in. Thus, being asked to uproot from his lab and become a full time soldier was certainly not on his agenda. A Krogan that has his agenda interrupted is not a happy Krogan.

Knarle's slightly reserved temperament though, meant that he thought about the situation before deciding to open fire on his 'colleagues'. After demanding at least one of the labs aboard the Polaris he accepted, have discerned that the labs aboard were of the utmost quality with the best tools available. His combat time would increase, obviously, but so would his funding and equipment. A clever trade off.

Finishing off the rest of the liqueur, Knarle stood and proceeded to head to the door from his quarters. Haste was of the essence to Knarle, he would meet with his employer and be on his way. To him, he was a rook among pawns. This view was reflected by the many awed looks he still attracted from the humans in Aurora, albeit these were mostly born of baseless rumours.

They looked upon him and saw something that terrified them. They didn't see one Krogan, they saw them all. They the potential for a return of the faded might of the Krogan. Knarle was a symbol, a symbol of resurrection of forgotten power, tremendous power, and he abused that to his advantage.

Fear, disgust and mistrust. That is what lay in the eyes of almost every human, Turian, asari, drell, hanar, volus and every other sentient. That is what Krogan meant to them. Knarle was determined to change that, to restore his people; for the better.

He however, was only one Krogan.

Reaching the door to the briefing room, Knarle stared intently at the Turian security officer, who in turn had eyes fixated on Knarle's weapons. "Try me." chuckled the Krogan, in the guttural manner which only a Krogan could.

Stepping into the briefing room, Knarle ignored the others and sat upon one of the smaller desks along the side wall.

[GrievousKhan]

Adorning a beige military style overcoat which he wore over his white collared shirt and tie, Armstrong left his office down its seemingly only exit, an elevator for his own personal use. As he descended Armstrong took the time to check the status of The Polaris SS-29 which the newly formed team would be assigned. It was currently in orbit right on schedule awaiting the shuttle that would bring the squad in. He closed his omni-tool and absent-mindedly ran his middle finger over his eye patch. It was a habit of his ever since a more recent upgrade. The implants still felt odd even after so much time. Armstrong had long ago lost his right eye during the heavy fighting on Elysium at the time of the Skyllian Blitz. He could have easily have had it replaced with either cyber implants or genetic modification technology. The truth was however that he had replaced his missing sensory organ. The eye patch itself was to give others a false sense of his own limitations, making it appear he had a blind spot to exploit.

The dark eye patches strip ran just over the bridge of his left eyebrow to run through his graying hair, which was short of shoulder length long, his sideburns running down to a full but well-trimmed bread. His attire was often chosen carefully, the long over coat alone might have been a response to the cold weather should he need to venture outside the base at any time, but it's real purpose was to conceal a light kinetic jacket worn under his shirt that supported a robust kinetic barrier. It also hid the M-77 Paladin pistol which he wore as his side arm, even on base, as well as a lethal razor edged combat knife at the small of his back, and another hidden in the soles of his combat boots. The eye-patch itself was state-of the art, a device invented by James "Cowboy" Richmen (with the help of Teepock) which only resembled an eye patch, simply nicknammed the "Eye". The Eye appears similar to a plastic eye patch, with the text "ADVANCED EYE SYSTEM" and a serial number appearing on the front and a small camera lens below the text. The Eye combined ENVG (Enhanced Night Vision Goggles) light amplification and imaging technology, and allowed for binocular functionality (though not simultaneously) In addition to this, the NV capability also revealed things that normally wouldn't be seen, even optically cloaked individuals. It was also programmed for use against heavy artillery if a M35 Mako ever entered his field of view, The Eye would display their specifications and armaments, even details into taking in body temperature, heart rate and sweat secretion to calculate a soldier's physical and emotional state.

These were only a few of its useful applications; of course most of these functions were in many helmet designs, but never in such a small deceptively innocent looking eye wear. Donald Armstrong of the Blades of Aurora was nothing if not prepared. Even his Office suit was heavily fortified and held many hidden exits. The Elevator touched down to the main floor where the Conference room was located. He made his way directly there, many stopping in the halls as he passed to salute him or give a nod of recognition. He made it to the oval shaped brief room in little time, many of the team had already arrived. He noticed Jonathan as he entered and gave him a curt nod with a seemingly passive expression. He moved to the head of the long and oval shaped table practically in the center of the room. He stood there a moment and took in each person of the team assembled. Security personal hang at the walls passively or the automated doors.

His eyes fell for a moment on the man called Dr. Aston Lee, surely one of the more volatile members in the team so far. Even more so than their single Krogan, and that was saying something when one considered the average Krogan and their mannerisms. Armstrong was not the sort to put up with behavior Aston normally portrayed; only his skills in Biotics and his medical talent had seen him kept on this long. Still Armstrong had made sure to keep close eyes on him as to avoid him causing much trouble; Dr. Lee did have a habit of attracting attention to himself. He could do with learning some self-restraint from Battle master Ganar Knarle. The Krogan was something of a enigma to be sure, he was quite unlike any Krogan Armstrong had met before. Granted the only times he had run into them was on the field. Their agreement had worked out the last six months, and while the Krogan was an adept solider and Biotic, Armstrong had to admit his skills would be wasted on a battlefield solely. Someday Armstrong would have to convince the Krogan to help further and develop scientific projects for Aurora, though knowing Ganar, the Krogans own goals would have to come first. Armstrong was well aware, as it would be obvious to most, even as a mere assumption. That Ganar sought a cure for the dreaded Genophage. Well the result could be dangerous, it also presented a opportunity, should Knarle do the seemingly impossible and cure the Genophage. It would gain them another ally should the reapers appear. Whatever the Reapers were, they likely held the same destructive power Sovereign had, and any allies were welcome. Still it was a risk, but a risk worth taking if it could save lives.

As the last arrived Armstrong straightened up and began.

"I welcome each of you, and as par the data you each received prior to this meeting. You should now know your all being reassigned directly to our newest vessel, The Polaris SS-29. Everything you need to know about the ship should already be sent over the proper secured data streams to your omni-tools. As well as you assigned rooms. Now that aside there is something far more pressing we have to address." As he spoke the last sentence he raised his left arm now aglow with his personal omni-tool, and punched in a few commands. A section in the middle of the large table in the room’s center slid aside and revealed a projector. An orange light flared to life and 3D image of a massive space station came to life. However any who had been to the station quickly recognized it as the all too familiar Omega station. With a few more commands sections of the hologram fell away and vanished for an overview of a single district within the station. "As time is of the essence I’ll be brief, this meeting is your first assignment, which you can see will take place on the Omega station. We have recently been in contact with a human male known as Rayn Toa, Code named Little angel. He's a skilled informant with ties to the shadow broker, who has operated on the station for over a decade now. Recently he has been providing Intel to a group of freelancer mercenaries, led by a figure known only as Archangel. Rayn has been giving this Archangel sensitive Intel on other gangs and mercenary outfits on Omega. Who in turn has been making their operations a living hell, taking out shipments, sabotaging equipment, bombing warehouses. The full ten yards. Thankfully, none of our operations have been hit, possibly he only targets groups that take part in illegal dealing, or maybe he only focused on those with a strong presence on Omega. It seems in any case Archangel's luck has ran out, Reports indicate they have tracked his squad down at their base, and have been putting the nails to his soon to be coffin."

Armstrong entered a few other commands and a 3D image of a man’s face appeared. He wore a mustache, held a roundish fat face with a scare over his left brow. "However Archangel is of no concern to us. Our contract lies with Rayn Toa, now dubbed "little angel". It seems information has leaked out that he was providing Archangel with info and equipment. He's now being hunted down by whatever forces not converging on Archangel, which is still considerable. He has been able to elude them for now and is hiding out in the lower districts. Seeing as he managed to piss off every group on Omega and beyond, he's out of options. All but one that is. This is where you come in. He's contacted us and is offering a large sum of credits for his safe extraction from the station. Not only that, but sensitive information which will be of great benefit to us."

"You mission is simple. The Polaris SS-29 is our fastest ship and you’re among the best Aurora has. I know the team is raw but there is no time for proper Squad training. But like I said this mission is a simple run-and-grab and we will see how smoothly you work together during the operation. The Polaris is already in orbit and ready to take you to Omega, which you should reach in a day and a half at best speed. Once you reach Omega an agent of ours on the station will give you Rayn's exact coordinates once you board. Expect to run into opposition while searching for Rayn, we don't know the exact group searching for them, likely Blood pack, Or Blue Suns. But we expect they won’t take kindly to you 'rescuing ' the informant. With any luck we should be able to locate him before they do." Armstrong then nodded in Jonathan's direction. "Captain Jonathan will be in command of this op, you'll follow his lead and command on ship and mission."

He then taped another command and the table’s center sealed over again, another command had already sent the schematics and photo to each team member’s omni-tool. "One more thing, as many of you should already know, an asari syndicate run by the notorious Aria T'Loak over sees can controls most of the station. Whatever you do, be sure to avoid as much collateral damage as possible. We don't need the attention of half the station, especially Aria T'Loak." With that he placed his hands behind his back. "You have one hour before your shuttle is ready to take you abroad The Polaris SS-29. Be sure to get whatever gear you need in that time and be ready. Good luck."