[IC] Mass Effect: Harpocrates

[mickilennial]

Hello, Commander. Welcome to the Harpocrates Initiative. As you know, we have a delicate matter that has caused us some concern in recent weeks that we need handled efficiently and without our names all over it. The Exo-Geni Corporation does not want the Systems Alliance sanctioning our business nor do we want to escalate the situation. In our business, we are about doing things that sometimes puts us in contention with galactic policies and ordinances. We have to. How else will we catch up to the rest of the galaxy? One of our facilities was hit and our property has been stolen from us. You and the rest of your team must see that it is not compromised and optimistically, returned to our hands. This includes important data. Your predecessors tracked down some information. The people behind this attack are batarian saboteurs. We do not know if they are affiliated with the Hegemony or not. We have, however, isolated their location to Faringor–a planet in the Hades Gamma Cluster. You and your operators will have to continue the trail from there. Your cover is only tangentially related to our corporation. To allow us a room of deniability in any actions you may cause in official capacity you contacted us. Any laws you break we have not ordered you to do so, they have been on your own directive. As far as the company knows, you are one of many mercenary groups looking to get a big payday. If you get caught with your pants down know that the Exo-Geni disavows anything you did in our name and that we have no official connections. Delete this message to protect our and your security. Good luck.

^{❯❯❯ Office of Robert Deeds, ExoGeni Corporation Building - Eden Prime}

“I hope they do better than the previous team.”

Robert Deeds’ voice filled his office as he looked outside of the window that overlooked the landscape of Eden Prime. In his left hand was a cup of coffee as his right buried itself in one of his pockets.

“Well, that’s why we put together a team of specialists. Sir.” a female voice utters in response, calm and respectful, “Don’t want to make the same mistakes.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Though,” she began, “Is there a reason you didn’t tell them that they are holding more than our data hostage?”

“I deemed it best to tell them only the essential information.”

“Right.”

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: SSV Surrender - Team Quarters}

Chapter 01.01: Boots on the Ground

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

“Helm to Barracks. We’re in the shadow of Faringor.” The voice of the helmsman came to life, echoing over the bunks of the cramped living quarters they had been assigned, “Report to the Operations HQ. I’m sure Laine wants to give you the 411.”

Avicia Sancrius, Antelmo Águila-Paiva, and Elerlia T'natis must have thought the Harpocrates gig could’ve fared better when it came to the sleep arrangements they had been given.

At least, all of the ‘thrill’ of waiting for them to arrive at their target destination was over. Since being picked up by the ship on Korlus it had been a long warp from the Eagle Nebula Cluster to the Hades Gamma Cluster. But it is what it was. Now it was finally time to get down to business and that meant heading over to the operations room to get the final bits of information about the job and get geared up. Laine Severn and Marivea Sannis were probably already there. Well, if they weren’t getting some sleep themselves in their personal quarters.

The two that ExoGeni thought had the ability to lead the rest of them to get results.

SCENE DIRECTIONS _________________________________________________________ ■ Go over mission plans as directed by your CO. ■ Introduce your character. ■ Once armed and ready, report to the helm. ■ Finally, prepare for landing.

_{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

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[Fading Memory]

0400 Hours

Hyperion rises early. Whilst not the only one in this crew of mercenaries with a background in the rigors of military doctrine, Hyperion is orthodox in his application of these matters. Once he had the chance to synchronize to shiptime, his schedule was set. The day begins with PT. Hyperion begins with intense equipment-assisted weightlifting and cardiovascular activities, before transitioning from the high intensity portion of his exercising into the disciplinary portion; One hundred pushups, one hundred and fifty situps, and a five minute plank. Finally, approaching the end of the hour, he concludes the sweat-inducing work by entering the cafeteria in the midst of the third-shift dinner rotation and engaging in a stretch routine.

0500 Hours

Hyperion religiously fills a thermos of coffee at the end of his exercises. He takes his breakfast as the third rotation crew take their dinner, keeping himself abreast of the goings'-on of the ship. Whilst he is no skipper, a career of ship-life has made him keen on knowing what's ticking in the Engineering sections. His demeanor is standoffish, and the crew is merely polite with him rather than cordial. His eyes are dull and his engagement seems structured, perhaps rigid, rather than organic in this regard. However, the regularity and dutiful attention he gives these questions and their answers is not the empty pleasantry of idle chatter and he takes to it with the same vigour he does his exercise routine.

The only part of his days that seemed to bring any light to the dullness of his eyes was when Hyperion insisted upon cooking. Precisely halfway through his thermos of coffee, he rises from the table with and proceeds to commandeer the cookery. The cafeteria fills with the smells of breakfast even as the third-shift finishes dinner, and by the time Hyperion manages to sit down with his plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, and grease-skin-gravy, he has already served several plates to the vying crew members who hassle him for food.

His methodical approach to eating the meal always ends with cleaning his plate with a swab of the final length of bacon to acquire the remnants of the rest of the meal, as well as one final gulp of coffee. What little light filled his eyes while cooking has since faded and the aura of grim obligation has once again settled over him.

0630 Hours, Onwards

Shower and hygiene. Equipment maintenace. Crew dossier review. Target location review... Everything fit into his schedule. Except R&R.

It was on this day, after the umpteenth day of file and map data review, as the ship came into sight and shadow of Faringor, that the squad would find Hyperion at the ready in the Operations HQ.

You've done more with less, Severn. was the main thought that repeated itself in the man's mind. As he awaited the squad's arrival, he checked his Omni-Tool one last time. Five members; himself, two wild cards with penchants for the bombastic, an unknown reported to be a crack shot, and a woman who gave him the sensation of gazing into a mirror whenever he looked up into her Turian features. You've done more with much less. his mind repeated.

In preparation of the squad's arrival he prepped the central command screen to a map display of Faringor. Synching it to his Omni-Tool, he idly scrolled through the astronomical data points one last time. Satisfied that the information was complete, as limited as it was due to the nature of the job, he remained at parade-rest and set himself to awaiting the others as he stood at the head of the table.

[Starlance]

Two weeks ago

”The feelers ‘bout ExoGeni you asked for came back.” Although Venari Quilin was light years away, she could still hear the cigar between the other turian’s mandibles and almost smell the reek, ”Word in the community ‘round here is that EG had somethin’ stolen from ‘em. Opinions are split whether it was product from one of their mines or maybe intellectual property like a patent or somethin’. Keep in mind that it’s all ‘I know a guy who knows a guy who said…’ although one of those guys who supposedly said so is Medant and he hasn’t led us astray yet. I even asked Lantea if she had her merry band of degenerates raid any mines or research stations, which she denied and it doesn't seem like somethin’ she’d do anyway.” That much was true. The ‘merry band of degenerates’ he was referring to, officially the Supernova Mercenary Company, may have subscribed to the ‘Beat the shit out of the problem with the problem’s own femur.’ school of contract resolution, but raiding big businesses or anything overtly illegal like that wasn’t something Lantea would have her goons do.
”So you don’t have anything?” Marivea was disappointed, but not surprised. People who had nothing to hide rarely hired mercenaries with little information about their upcoming task after all.
”Sorta.” He admitted, ”There’ve been rumors ‘bout them securin’ rights to worlds with alien ruins and keepin’ quiet ‘bout ‘em to keep all the goodies to themselves, but name one corporation that works exploration or colony development that hasn’t been accused of doin’ that. Would explain why they’re not tellin’ you shit though.”
”Hmm… Well, thanks for trying anyway. Keep your head down.”
”No problem, and right back at you. Hey, the Avenger is still in dock for refit, but we’ll be back in it in two or three weeks. You’ll throw your buddy a bone if they’re lookin’ for more bodies for somethin’ long-term, right?”
”Sure will. Take care.” She ended the call.

---

Present day

Marivea was surprised by getting quarters away from the rest of the squad, and not in a good way. Not the best way to build team bonds. “I’m not going to sleep with the enlisted. What am I, some sort of peasant?” Said some human officer somewhere. Probably. It was all the weirder because the position she was hired to take in this team’s hierarchy was akin to her old army position, an NCO - an enlisted soldier. Alas, she just chalked it up to human weirdness and made peace with having to work around it. It wasn’t the first time she‘d been told to make due while running with a bunch of misfits, though no one could tell her that this wasn’t a particularly colorful bunch.

Her fellow turian was bafflingly mad, plain and simple. Marivea could certainly see why the kid was this far from home. The Hierarchy had its rigid ways and liked to introduce nails that stuck out to a hammer, and boy was this nail not even halfway in. The file ExoGeni had given her did come with an impressive list of qualifications though, so there was some silver lining to this storm cloud.

Speaking of nails sticking out and loose screws, people like Elerlia greatly benefited from boot camp, as did everyone around them. As an asari, unfortunately, she didn’t go through one, at best the military summer camp the asari called basic training that even humans laughed at. Otherwise her… spirited disposition would've been curtailed. Her file was fairly thin, indicating either working in the armpits of the galaxy or doing nothing of note throughout her career.

The first human, Antelmo, was definitely the class clown in his earlier days, although he fortunately lacked the chaotic energy Avicia radiated like a busted eezo core. Someone like that was good to have, if they knew when to stop goofing around and be serious. A fellow Anhur Abolitionist fighter and the one who stopped Bekenstein from becoming another Illium according to his file, his track record reminded her of her own a bit. Him she wasn’t worried about.

And the other human, Laine. She could have been wrong, but she was fairly certain had been giving her and Avicia the side eye every time they entered the room for the whole trip. She hadn’t found a good chance to ask him about it, but him being a Shanxi veteran, she could guess. Whatever his reasons, potentially pissing off her CO by her presence alone did not bode well for this shindig. The version of his file she'd been given was sadly little more than a few bullet points - the sergeant apparently didn't need to know much about the squad leader, another human oddity she assumed - yet somehow managed to be impressive even in that form.

The long trip at least gave her some time to get a feel for who the new teammates were, but the equally important part of learning what they were like under pressure was still a few hours away. And some pressure this would be. Taking care to arrive with time to spare, she didn't expect Laine to be there already, nodding with a polite ”Sir.” as greeting. Punctual, good. She'd known even turian officers who thought the meeting time was for everyone else and it actually started when they showed up five to fifteen minutes later.
”Minus 144 degrees, next to no atmosphere and radioactive oil wells.” Marivea summarized several travel advisories and surveys she had opened on her Omni-tool, leaning against a table in the ops room and sighed, ”Why can’t they ever send us somewhere nice, like Oma Ker, or Arvuna?”

[Mao Mao]

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▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ For such a confidential assignment, one would assume that an interstellar company like ExoGeni would've paid for better bunks. It wasn't like they didn't have the credits to spend. Antelmo Águila-Paiva struggled to get a decent night's sleep due to the relatively small mattress provided to him. So that explained why he was already at the cafeteria when the helmsman announced that they had arrived at their destination: a barren, frozen hellscape known as Faringor. There wasn't much to note about the planet other than it being the location used in the gothic horror classic, Starless. A tiny part of Antelmo had secretly hoped the assignment would take them to the well-preserved sets on the planet's icy surface. Then, the helmsman made sure to mention that Laine was waiting for everyone at operations. Antelmo didn't know what to make out of the other human. Other than the fact that the old man had a closet of secrets for being N7. And that included his time on Anhur during the revolt, undoubtedly laboring for the Alliance and their interests abroad. Nobody with such experience in the art of warfare would've helped some industrial planet out of the kindness of their heart. No, they only got involved because it crippled batarian investments in the long run. Antelmo pondered whether the Alliance would have intervened if the oppressors were turian or asari. But of course, he found out the answer a long time ago. Antelmo made sure to gear up for landfall, examining his rifle and submachine gun to ensure they were ready for action. Then, he changed into simple garments meant to be worn under armor. And by the time he emerged from the armory, the well-worn partisan armor brought forth much-needed color within the vessel. Antelmo arrived just in time to hear the XO complain about never being sent somewhere nice. He made his way over to one of the empty chairs in the room and decided to answer her question in a rather cheeky manner, "I've learned recently that if an assignment involves going to some backwater planet, the pay's higher. But given we're gonna be on the planet used in Starless, our pay will be shit." ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

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[KaiserElectric]

"Yes, yes, that's the ticket, that's the in..."

Avicia Sancrius' heels clacked on the metal floor as she turned and paced the other direction, arms crossed over her chest.

"Overload and overflow, the door comes crashing in. A stream of data to clog the system and cause an informational cascade. Bypass any simple cyberspace lock mechanism. It's so elementary..."

She turned again, facing down a squadron of enemy soldiers in black armor, aiming their rifles at her.

"Practical application then, let's see. Standard to high-end, corporate issue highly likely. Reliable, but most certainly with cut corners. Electronic triggers especially vulnerable. Overload and bypass, and what can we do?"

She snapped her fingers, and seven clicks were heard. The mercenaries looked down to see the grenades strapped to their belts had activated. The collective fireball created a gleam on the turian's goggles as she grinned excitedly.

"Definite defensive applications as well," she continued, raising her arm and effortlessly catching the grenade launched in her face. "No no no, I can do better." She tossed it aside, and caught a rocket with even less effort. "Perfect, rocket propelled ammunition, notoriously vulnerable to override with the proper parameters. Or better yet..."

She craned her neck to see the turian battleship overhead, loaded down with the same type of warheads. She rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Definite need for current military codes, but past that, it's only a matter of a few quick commands before-"

There was a sound like thunder as flames emerged from within the structure and it began listing. She bounced on her heels, waiting to imagine what the vessel would look like erupting into plasmic flame when-

"Helm to Barracks. We’re in the shadow of Faringor.”

Avicia jerked out of her daydreaming with a start, smacking her forehead into the low ceiling of her bunk, Kemerskai stirring from his resting place around her neck and sniffing the air curiously.

"Ugh, these things are like coffins," Avicia groaned, rubbing her head as she lifted the space ferret out of her collar with the other hand, sticking the furry little critter on the bedding next to his brother. It was practically cliche to complain about living quarters in her profession, but in fairness these accommodations were rather pathetic. No doubt because the humans in charge were banking on their hired hands being too desperate to say no to this job, she concluded.

The throbbing in her head subsiding, she dug through her chaotic mess of a living space and pulled out all the equipment she'd need, and a few extras for good measure, and started off down the hallway still checking over her launcher, until reaching the room and finding a comfortable table to sit on rather then a chair, still fiddling with the firing mechanism on her weapon. She unloaded it from her last job, right? Eh, probably.

”Why can’t they ever send us somewhere nice, like Oma Ker, or Arvuna?” the other turian in the room sighed, prompting her attention.

"They save those for the security technicians who make much more money then we do, naturally," Avicia replied as though this were obvious. "Also, what's wrong with the lights in here, why's everything so gree...oh!" Avicia lowered her goggles from her eyes to leave them hanging around her neck, grinning proudly. "Another crisis solved!"