The Cathedral never changed much. The noise never faded, crowds neither swelled nor dwindled, artificial light constantly illuminating the five massive arms. The lack of a day and night rotation caused this persistent restlessness of the Cathedral. There was no set sleep cycle, business hours were 24/7, and the economy as always booming on the ancient city because of this. Ships buzzed in and out out the massive ports, carrying people, cargo, and occasionally, dangerous criminals like former Captain Werner “Drake” Coetzee.
His chestnut hair, interrupted only by a few premature silver strands, was long, much longer than the average military soldier. It hung in ragged locks down to his shoulders, hiding his much of his face from curious eyes, the rest covered by a three month unkempt beard. The ex-pirate stood proud though, with shoulders back and head up despite the metal links that dug into the leathery flesh of his wrist and ankles. A tight fitting dark jumpsuit clung to his deep chest and broad shoulders, doing little to conceal the hard, dangerous lines of his limbs. Perhaps the strangest feature of this roguish figure was his arm, rather a lack of. In its place, a prosthetic hung, gradually weaving into his shoulder in a symbiotic relationship with Werner. The exterior synthetic material resembled a rugged kevlar in texture, which weaved together exactly like human muscle. The grafted arm was obviously of Geth origin, though the five-fingered hand suggested the limb was fitted for a human rather than the machines who resembled their creators. Behind the criminal stood two fully armed Alliance soldiers, one with a heavy duffel bag, and both with their weapons half raised at the man between them. Their battle-scarred armor attested for their experience in combat, as well as the ranking insignias on their shoulders, but to Werner the former proved much more.
The sterile white airlock of the Shadow of Intent hissed as white gas pressurized the small chamber. A soft mechanical whirring in the hydraulics could be reverberated through the room before the gate lowered and hit the ground of the Cathedral. Werner, his usually long stride restricted by shackles, shuffled out of the ship, carefully followed by his two guards. The spaceport was just as he remembered three years ago, and he was relatively indifferent with the reunion. The artificial environment of the ship might suffice for the residents who lived there since birth, but to a native of Earth, and more recently Rannoch, fake trees, recycled air, and unnatural white light all seemed like a poor imitation of a true planet. Ironically, Werner didn’t mind the same environment when crammed onto a ship with several others, but a frigate was a second home to the ex-pirate. He stopped at the end of the ramp and took a sweeping look of the ship yard. Cargo ships, Alliance cruisers, passenger transport, they all hummed in and out of the docking bay. Three years ago, Werner would have pulled one of the greatest acts of piracy ever known in this bay, his name forever branded in history as the man who held the entire galaxy hostage with only a pistol. His shadowy eyes met the very location where he reunited with the very woman who stopped him. Werner swallowed and turned to his captors.
As one man uncuffed his wrists and ankles, the other tossed the massive duffel bag to his feet. “Remember, you’re going straight to The Palamecia. We’ll be watching,” The guard said ominously as his partner finished. Werner rubbed his human wrist and nodded before picking up the bag and leaving. He did respect the men. They did their job perfectly, and above all treated him fairly, which he didn’t exactly deserve. How many of their friends had he killed? In fact, he didn’t even deserve this opportunity at all, a shot for redemption. If he were on the council that decided his fate, Werner knew that only a swift execution would be fitting, and even that would be too merciful. Still, his skill in combat and extensive knowledge of asymmetric warfare evidently made him a prime candidate for this elite squad. Perhaps he would simply be used as cannon fodder. Werner shook his head and began walking through the shipyard, scanning for the Palencia. He’d been told that it was unlike any ship he’d ever seen, the rogue almost scoffed. In his years of pirating, Werner saw almost every single ship in existence, and yet when he laid his eyes on the sleek vessel, the ex-pirate knew it was a majestic work of craftsmanship to behold. It was obviously modeled after the SSV Normandy, and yet, like his arm structured after the Geth, there were obvious improvements. The hull was seamless and smooth, unmarred by the trials of time and battle. Points seemed to be nonexistent in the frame, every single point perfectly curved for maximum aerodynamics and structural integrity. The massive weapons interested him more than anything. Obviously, the engineers knew what they were doing, and this extensive designing no doubt extended to the weapon system.
Once again, Werner found himself in another white metal room, but this time, he was greeted by a voice as cool as the floor beneath his boots. A small electric blue hologram materialized in the previously empty space before him and spoke. ”Greetings human, I am Sira. As per instructed by the commanding officer, please verify your identification. A word of caution. Forgers will be quickly disposed of." Werner couldn’t help but chuckle at the last bit. Leave it to the military to kill anyone mistakenly stumbling upon their ship. Yet, the simple statement testified to the secrecy of the squad, sending a chill through his body.
“Hello, I’m Werner Coetzee, or Drake. I’m from South Africa, and…” He fumbled for his datapad in the duffel bag before continuing,”ID is F34-21540.” Werner’s informal tone showed just how little he cared for formal military language. Even then, he didn’t like how people addressed AI like they were simply computer programs. Many artificial intelligence units were more sentient than many people he knew. With this in mind, Werner silently hoped the ID was right and the chamber wouldn’t fill with toxic gas.
“Identification Verified. Please follow the schematics on your holo-pad to the briefing room, the mission briefing will begin shortly.”
Werner breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened and he walked into the ship, where he was met by a human who handed him a uniform directed him to the bathrooms. The frigate, he realized, was almost an exact interior replica to the SSV Normandy. He studied the schematics as a child and almost committed them to memory, so navigating through the Palamecia was like coming home. The long row of computers crammed with sailors, the massive galaxy map, even the elevator was in the same position. Werner was almost like a child again, though he kept his composure, but barely. He made his way to the bathrooms and quickly changed into his uniform, and was surprised by the perfect fit. Even the left sleeve was absent, hemmed at the perfect length where synthetic met organic. He hefted up his bag and prepared to leave, but caught a glance of his reflection in the mirror. Werner’s hair hung down like a dog, and though he was unfamiliar with military regulations, he knew it was far too ragged. The pirate reached into his bag and went to work on the mess, emerging as a fairly presentable figure. With the hair now gone, his sharp, angular face was now revealed, though slightly distorted by a light stubble, and the two deep gouges in his cheek visible. From memory, Werner walked to the briefing room, greeted by two geth and an asari. The presence of the machines caught him off guard, but their presence was comforting. Geth, by his experience on Rannoch, were the most honest and trustful beings he ever encountered in his life contrary to many stereotypes. Perhaps he admired the machines since, one could argue, he was almost part of them due to his prosthetic. The asari, on the other hand, caused his muscles to lock as he instinctively prepared for a fight at the sight of gleaming armor. Amazonian warriors, as the asari were commonly referred to among pirates. They were fierce in battle, especially with their advanced biotic powers, and never an adversary to overlook. He relaxed after a second and nodded to his crewmates before seating himself next to the geth with a box in hand and looked for their commander.
