2179 CE, Tasale System
Geocentric Orbit, Illium
Onboard The Achilles
Every diurnal cycle thousands of ships come and go through the Tasale Relay. The relay’s made the Tasale System for which it is named the “gateway” to the Crescent Nebula. Yet, the majority of ship’s that entered the system do not travel beyond its reach, rather they sat their course towards the warm garden world that sits near the system’s center - Illium. If Omega is the Terminus Systems’ twisted version of the Citadel, then Illium is its Thessia, the Terminus’ “Shining Jewel”. This organized and business-friendly image projected by the corporate interests that run the planet serves its goal well as the primary entrepot between the Terminus Systems and the Asari Republics. Its “proper” appearance able to entice those with money in the Citadel Space who would otherwise not dare to venture into the Terminus Systems. The result is a constant influx of ships heading in and out of the planet each day ranging from extravagant pleasure yachts to colossal long-distance transport haulers heading towards the planet for business, pleasure, and on most occasions a little bit of both.
The Achilles was one such ship. Dropping back into real space the retrofitted Turian craft began to adjust its coordinates towards the garden-world. In what was an increasing rarity, the Achilles was in travel ready shape again. It had an engine filled with fuel and a cargo-bay stocked with tightly-packed boxes with surprise and perhaps most surprisingly of all the ship carried with it living cargo. Ten souls looking out viewports to try and get a glimpse at their destination. They were united under a common cause, the allure of adventure and credits that came with the mercenary business pulling them together into the Achilles worn and weary halls. Illium wasn’t an end goal, it was hopefully the starting point for something new. The hopeful ten were coming to Illium chasing after a score.
Her name was Salisa Sarsi, she was beautiful even by Asari standards and could snap your neck blindfolded and handcuffed if she really wanted to. She got her first taste of violence surviving the Republics in one of their venerated commando units. After retiring from the military, she headed out the Terminus system applying her skills in the mercenary world. Shortly after she was approached by an old military contact Jona Sederis the recent founder of the Eclipse. Salisa was an influential face in the Eclipse’s formative years but the good times weren’t meant to last as fighting between her Sederis eventually lead to Salisa to part ways with the organization. After that she went independent again eventually getting roped up with the infamous Elanos Haliat. After the failure of the Blitz and somehow surviving Torfan, she went underground. The Alliance was willing to pay a pretty penny to any folks that could bring her in to stand trial for her crimes. And the crew of the Achilles was looking to be those folks.
But that was a problem for tomorrow as an orbital accident was causing massive delays for ships going and coming from Illium. As cleanup crews worked double time to remove debris away, all traffic was being rerouted through a clear corridor towards the planet. The resulting congestion was resulting in wait times of several hours due to the lack of space. It wasn’t like the Achilles was a Spectre ship or anything, it needed to follow the rules like everybody else or Public Safety was going to blow them out of the water with their AA Guns. And so the ship like all the others around it founds it place in the queue, inching along slowly as it went.
Nikolai “Kolya” Tsoi, the Achilles caretaker, captain, and pilot began to flip a series of switches to engage the ship’s autopilot. Going at speeds as slow as they currently were, the Ship’s onboard navigation system would have no trouble keeping the ship form crashing into anything. Kolya found himself saying a quick prayer of thanks towards whatever Turian software engineer had designed the system, so that he wouldn’t have to spend the next several hours doing nothing but sit in traffic and contemplate ending his own life. He performed one final check on the system before spinning the pilot’s chair around and leaping to his feet with a flourish.
Exiting the cockpit, Kolya seemed very at home in the Achilles cramped corridors. He was dressed rather simply, a black sweatshirt with the Systems Alliance logo in white stitched into the right breast, and a pair of red athletic shorts. The slap of his slide style sandals echoing through the empty halls. Like a hound on the scent he headed towards the “War Room”, the ship’s modified dining area. The rest of the crew should have already been there having their first dinner together.
It was an old holdover from Kolya’s military days that he kept alive. It was to facilitate bonding and help everyone become acclimated with one another. And as Kolya saw it meal prep was kind of like a mission in its own way, as it required teamwork and communication to get the job right. So, the ex-marine had made it painfully clear to his newly assembled crew that these communal dinners were a non-optional affair unless they wanted to be scrubbing the bathroom until the Batarians became a Council race.
Following the sounds of muted conversation, Kolya made his way into the War Room. The rest of his crew had assembled themselves around the large holographic projector in the center of the room. Turning the projector off they had turned the flat surface into a makeshift table. The heat from the kitchen and the amount of the bodies clustered into such a small space made it feel like the area was ten degrees warmer than the rest of the ship which was already a hot box thanks to its faulty cooling system. Despite the heat, the myriad cluster of individuals managed to pull themselves together around the table touching elbow to elbow. A serious shortage of stools made it so that many were seated on pulled up boxes and crates, basically anything fit enough to be sat on.
Managing to make his way into the adjoining kitchen area Kolya was able to make himself a bowl. He spooned himself what one could only assume to be a serving of rice and curry from a pair of pots that were conveniently labeled Levo carefully avoiding the twin pair of pots labeled Dextro. Taking his dinner, Kolya managed to squeeze his way into a seat that was reserved for him near the center of the table. He look around at the faces that surrounded him and smiled.
“So,” he announced between spoonfuls of curry, directing his question towards no-one in particular “all of you ready for tomorrow?”
"I still need to know what kind of security I may be going against," came the accented voice of Hann, loading a paste into a compartment in her mask in a very slow and careful manner. It was clear that she was eating, or rather sipping, away at a Quarian nutrient paste. "Hacking tends to favor the prepared," she continued without looking at the captain before humming along with a tune that was nearly indescernable through the mask. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she, supposedly, blankly stared forwards, though it was always hard to tell through the visor of the helmet.
It was a crew of composition that Ardan Parvius did not much care to be in company with. He took the job under Captain Kolya under the assumption it was going to be a group of professionals, and that the young human was cut from a different banner than the members of his species that called the shots, but to Ardan's displeasure there was a menagerie of known problem species represented around the makeshift dining table, including two krogan who were liable to start butting heads in the literal sense before tearing the Achillies apart by hand and having a two-man mutiny, a three-eyed batarian that probably got his medical background from disecting human slaves, a quarian who was probably going to steal the ship to bring back to her floatilla when the rest of the crew was on a mission, and a handful of humans who hadn't been around in the galaxy long enough to know any better so they were liable to blunder into every conceivable mishap in the Terminus Systems.
So, business as usual.
Given Ardan's height and lack of proper seating, he found himself an empty storage container that wasn't quite tall enough to put him more than a few inches below his arms at the table, his bowl of Palaven grains and grubs steaming in front of him, largely untouched but throughly saturated with a hotsauce and mixed up with some nuts to give it a bit of texture. Fortunately, no one else on the ship could eat his food, so they couldn't complain about his cooking. He looked up from his personal datapad and the quarter final scores of the clawball championships to look at Kolya for a few lingering moments.
"Always ready. Gear's been checked over five times and optimized, and I'm used to adapting to adverse conditions on the fly. Our lack of team chemistry won't prevent me from doing my job, even if that asari we're after sounds like a treat." Ardan paused,drumming his fingers on the back of his pad in thought.
"Question, though; if we're supposed to be bringing in this matriarch alive, I didn't see anything in our inventory that's exactly less-than-lethal." he said evenly, jutting a thumb at Jackson, returning his gaze to the pad. "I'm assured some of you are biotics. Some offense, but a couple decades of mucking about with what an asari Matriach's been doing for the better part of a thousand years is kind of like going up against a machine-gun emplacement with a cadet training rifle."
Kopris placed himself as far from the humans in the crew as possible, dressed in his normal military fatigues, t-shirt and boots. It was bad enough being given dirty looks from everyone except the Krogans and the Quarian (at least, he thought she wasn't giving him dirty looks. Hard to tell with the mask), he didn't want to give them any chances at pettiness as well. It was the same story he was used all too familiar with,and not one he could blame them for. Torfan was barely a year old, and tensions still ran high in the Terminus systems. He would have never accepted a job filled with so many people that had every reason to hate him, but his credit supply had been running low and he had been desperate. Now, as they were almost upon their mission to capture an Asari Matriarch alive, he was beginning to wonder if a couple weeks of starvation wouldn't have been so bad.
As their captain and the Turian spoke, Kopris glanced up from his omni-tool, making notes of what supplies he would need for his time on the Achilles, a half eaten bowl of what the humans had called 'curry' in front of him. "I'm sure we can find something to stun her, paralyze her, or otherwise render her incapacitated on Illium. It's the trading hub of the Terminus systems, after all." He gave a slight shrug. "Assuming we can even hit her with whatever we can buy, that is. A ten on one, at best, fight against a matriarch is not something we'll enjoy. But before we can get to all of that, I need a basic medical report from everyone. Any known allergies, old wounds that tend to act up, pieces of metal that are holding your bones together, any drugs you may currently be on, specific immuno-boosters from the Quarian, and all of your blood types. It'd be a bit awkward if when I was trying to stabilize you I sent you into anaphalactic shock because you didn't tell me you were deathly allergic to a medicine, or if after you were done bleeding out I didn't have your blood type on hand to help prevent your organs from shutting down." He looked back at Koyla. "After that and those supplies, I'll be all set Captain."
Kolya could of figured that it would of been the veterans that were the most antsy. The new folks you shove a gun in their chest and give them a pep talk and they think they can wrestle a thresher maw with one hand behind their back. The experienced crowd though, they knew what happened when things went wrong and how quickly things have the possibility of falling apart. Kolya himself knew some merc captains that purposefully stacked their crew with new recruits to prevent any alternative views from popping up. Kolya (phone stop capitalizing every other word ffs) on the side of the spectrum found himself trying to leverage all the experience that he had at his disposal.
"Relax Ardan," Kolya reassured the Turian with an easy smile. The old soldier reminded Kolya of Vyrnnus in a lot of ways. He was definitely softer around the edges but you can take the soldier out of the Hierarchy, but it seemed that you couldn't take the Hierarchy out of the soldier.
"Like our three-eyed friend suggested, I have something worked out" Kolya said gesturing over to Korpis. Since everyone had come aboard the ex-marine still hadn't used the Batarian's name yet, fluctuating between Three-Eyes and the Batarian, but never Korpis. "Through some friends, I was able to pick up the same knockout concoction that the Salarian STG uses when they have to deal with biotics. The stuff can even take out a raging battle master so we should be fine. Of course it's packed into a needle so you are going to have to be practically kissing her to use it, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it."
"My ex-wife was an asari." Ardan muttered, briefly glancing up. "I'll freshen up and lay on the charm if that's our brilliant plan."
His tone was dripping sarcasm.
Finally Kolya turned his attention to Hann and give a shrug. Kolya hadn't run across many Quarians in his travels, so he honestly didn't know how to clock her yet. She seemed wiser then her not even a quarter of a century would lead you to believe. Like the kids that he would end up rescuing from pirate camps, that seem kind of priority shift that you usually see in folks twice her age. But that was the problem, Kolya just didn't know all Quarians could be like that for he knew.
"Ardan is right on that one," He admitted "I don't have any real intel for you besides its Illium, so expect flashy, state of the art, and expensive"
Finishing his bowl, he rose to grab seconds. The damn "biotic diet" meaning that he could probably eat the entire boat and he still wouldn't feel full. Throwing his head over his shoulder he smirked as he addressed the assembly. "How about the rest of you? Regret signing on yet?"
Bel sat close to the table using an empty bucket she find in a maintenance closet as a makeshift chair. She exemplified the “just rolled out of bed” look with her hair tied back and out of her face by a rubber band, a slightly oversized shirt proclaiming her as a “Master Baiter”featuring an image of a salmon with a fish hook in its mouth, and the always stylish combonation of bare feet and sweatpants.Truth be told, she looked that way while aboard the ship having rolled out of bed five minutes or five hours ago. Her banjo sat between her legs, leaning against one knee as though she intended to come prepared for an impromptu sing along session. She glanced around the table with interest as she alternated between munching on some pecans from a plastic bag and eagerly shoveling the curry and rice she’d mashed together into her mouth. Already on her second bowl and showing no signs of stopping, she fit the classic bottomless stomach biotic stereotype. She looked up from her meal at Kolya's question and ainply shook her head before stuffing her face again.
The assembled crew was a strange assortment for sure, but few things in life can be both familiar and interesting for long. She raised her hand up high and leaned forward so she could make eye contact with the batarian. When she spoke, a heavy Southern drawl coated her every word like syrup on pancakes.
“You should pass around a note after supper and we can all write our stuff down for you. Also!” She awkwardly shifted on her bucket as she turned to Ardan. “What about a traq gun? Like that kind zookeepers have. I used to hunt a lot with my pappy so if she’s not movin’ around too much I could take the shot.”
"I volunteer!" A krogan exclaimed, as he heard mention of taking out the Asari Matriach with a knockout needle. That sounded like an absolutly thrilling way to take her down to him. Though the alcohol flowing through his veins may have caused most of the excitment.
Vash took a swig of ryncol, contained in a tall jug which he held and sipped with one large hand. Then he offered a drink to any of his fellow mercenaries, his new 'friends' on this intriguing and incredibly dangerous mission. Clad in his usual armor with a smirk on his face as he spoke up. At the mention of a tranqualizer gun he blinked, shaking his head slightly. Asari were unpredictable in combat, especially the highly trained ones. In his experience the best way to deal with biotics was to get a flank on them and annihilate them with everything you've got at close range. They can't throw you across the room with biotics if they're taking a storm of bullets to the face. Either that or a barrage of explosions. But the latter option wasn't a choice in this operation, sadly. Though the veteran mercenary had never taken on an Asari matriach, they weren't damage proof no matter how much fancy 'space magic' they dished out.
"A tranq dart very well might miss. Then you've given away that you're trying to take her in alive. She's on her highest guard and won't let anyone take her in alive. Best strategy is to all hit her at once, get her nice and distracted. Then, have someone lunge at her with the needle and stab it into her. Hard enough it'll go through her armor. Someone who won't fuck it up and can take the brunt of the matriach's fury. I fit that exactly." He added, yellow eyes giddily moving around the room as he took another sip.
“State of the art security,” the Quarian echoed, cocking her head to the side as her head gazed upwards as she seemed to go into a deep thought on the subject. However her focus had been shaken when the note of medication came to which she promptly got her Omni-Tool out and began typing away on it. The orange glow reflected off her visor as she continued typing. Hann turned her head to face towards Vash as he spoke, “I was sure that you would have love the opportunity to get in close with an asari matriarch. Isn’t taking extremely dangerous things down, with an extreme will to not die, the Krogan specialty?”
"You're damn right it is." Vash replied with a tip of his ryncol flask, a cocky smirk on his face.
Kopris snorted. The Krogan was gonna end up a broken, bloody, smear against the wall.
A light, yet false, laugh sounded from Hann’s helmet as Kopris soon found a basic run down of Hann’s medical history sent to his Omni-tool, which only listed five types of immunoboosters and her blood type. She knew that she was never going to be one on the front lines of this merry bunch, it was not like she could fish getting a suit breach and dying from some strange infection that would never kill a human baby. The glories of a Quarian immune system was something no one liked to deal with. Which was why she had decided not to partake in the dinner, not wanting to compromise the mission because she had to focus on a raging cold. Luckily for her, she still had bought some of the Quarian food paste that the Flotilla tended to use, or rather a knock off brand that tasted it like it. Her original supply had run out long ago since the Flotilla had given her enough to get through her pilgrimage.
Bel eyed the Quarian for a moment before the obvious thought occurred to her.
"Omitools... right."
She spared a precious few seconds to set down her spoon and type out a quick memo to Kopris.
> human
> o-
> no allergies
> fell out out of a tree as a kid and my left wrist makes a funny clicking sound sometimes but it doesn't hurt
Even after having an omnitool for close to 15 years she still sometimes forgot just how many analog devices they replaced. Everything from phones to paper and penicl. It truly was amazing to her.
Kopris gave a thumbs up to both Hann and Bel, typing out the necessary supplies he'd need. They at least understood the need for a knowledgeable medic.
Ardan looked up to study Bel for a few moments, her enthusiasm was encouraging, even if the strange instrument on her lap was not. "Nothing wrong with a two-pronged approach." He said, looking over to Vash before returning his attention to the human woman. At least they were planning ahead instead of improvising. "No reason we can't take different approaches all at once, but if we do go the night-night dart approach full of insidious salarian cocktail, we're going to have to get the matriarch's vitals; weight, height, that kind of thing. You need to get the dosage right, because too little and she doesn't feel a thing, too much her heart stops."
The only thing that Sully did was keep quiet, staring down at his plate as he ate. The younger krogan had experience in working with a team, but never one this...strange before. It was a sight to see a huge krogan shift awkwardly in his seat, but there it was. As the team discussed potential ideas to bring their target down, Sully piped up with his own idea.
"Well, uh, if we can find her ship, I could probably take its engine apart. Keep her from leaving or something, make our job easier."
"I could help you out if you need it." Marius Faro offered his services to the krogan engineer. "I know a few things about shuttles and their precious parts. Better than charging at an asari matriarch."
"Yeah, that could work. Disable the ignition manifold, maybe screw up the internal safeties? Could make her shuttle flame out on the dock and blow out an engine or two."
"We would have to make sure that we don't fuck the mainfold up to the point that it instantly explodes, killing our bounty in the process." Faro shared his thoughts with the krogan.
"Well, I could just...rip the entire engine out, if it's a small shuttle. There's a few models out there that have weak structural seams in the engine housing. Some light arc cuts, a bit of percussive maintenance and out it pops. Nothing says 'wrecking ball' like a big krogan with power tools."
"Well, I guess if kissing her's off the table, then I'll ac-qui-ese to the knowledge of the guy who got hitched to one," Jackson agreed genially between healthy bowlfuls of curry. Though he kept his spirits high and acted as though he was perpetually punch drunk, if truth be told he was more thankful for the company of Bel than any amount of firepower or know-how. It helped to hear another local accent on board, and most of the aliens hadn't proved to be the most agreeable company since they'd all found their way onboard. Even cracking bawdy jokes about targets did little to lighten anyone's mood on this fucking love boat, and it seemed like half the people onboard had one bad experience or another - whether personal or professional - with one of the blue-skinned belles. Sure, he'd had to sleep his way through a couple asari here adn there back in the day, and sure, it felt weird to have your head invaded by a not-girl who had a head that wouldn't look out of place on an omakase menu, but that's why his follow-up career had involved taking shots to the head. Watching an asari go from high-and-mighty to confused about how to navigate brain trauma was almost as fun as the circumstances surrounding said brain trauma.
Yeeeeup. Playing dumb was the best way to go - both personally, and, if he was reading this room full of fucking psychos and tormented souls correctly, professionally.
"I ain't ever tried wrangling an asari matriarch before, but seems to me you get her in a body triangle or get your claws around her, she'll be trapped stone cold like anything else. If one of the big guys thinks they can pin her down and pump her full of whatever, I say damn straight. As long as we're sure whoever's firing tranq guns at range ain't popping off and roofying our boy, too."
Bel giggled into her hand but said nothing about Jackson's colorful wording.
Faro rolled his eyes at the comment and focused on the holographic image of Salisa Sarsi, one of the pirates that partook Torfan. Of course, he never met her on the battlefield; but, he saw a few asari pirates with impressive biotics. Capturing a ruthless asari matriarch alive was going to be difficult or even impossible. Yet, Faro liked the challenge and its risk of a painful death. Odd enough, Faro was the only person standing around rather than sitting down on a box because he was so anxious. It was better for people to not noticed his shaking leg while sitting down. He turned back to his meal and took a few quick bites before reminding himself of the batarian doctor's request for medical reports. After all, Faro was taking some severe health-risking drugs and having one-night stands with strangers. He wanted to tell the doctor of his colorful habits at least.
"Hey, doc." Faro looked at the only batarian on the team and said loud enough for the doctor to hear, "Remind me that we have to talk about... personal matters regarding my health. I'd like to keep some things to myself for as long as possible."
"Whatever works for you, so long as I get the necessary information." Kopris replied, typing a reminder into his Omni-tool.
Faro stared at the Achilles' captain and offered his advice as someone that fought pirates like Sarsi, "Captain, we cannot underestimate Sarsi and her security. Pirates that want to hide, like her, will do anything to remind hidden from the galaxy. If we do find out her hideout, we should consider sending someone to keep an eye on the place. So we have an understanding of her daily route, the security, and other important matters."
Bel gestured to Faro with her spoon.
"Ah lil' rehon neher hur mohbody," she mumbled around a mouthful of food.
"Except for all the people who've been killed doing recon." Kopris muttered quietly, before looking over at Koyla, head tilted to the right. "Do we have any physical information on the Matriarch so we know what dose to give her, Captain? Or are we going in blind and hoping that if we do overdose her I can bring her back? As much fun as the latter plan sounds, I'd prefer something that wasn't a blind shot in the dark."
Coming in from the ship's restrooom, Firuzeh frowned as she once again caught sight of the food, making a mental note to prepare something better as soon as the opportunity presented itself. "Pardon me." She murmured, returning to the spot she had claimed, as close as possible to the kitchen itself. "I was not privy to the full discussion - but I believe I heard mention of needing informaton on our target for a tranquilizer dart - at bare minimum. We're heading to Illium after all - has nobody considered paying an information broker for the data we need? The Shadow Broker's contacts would almost assuredly have whatever you could possibly want and more, or if we don't feel the need to pay a premium, we could surely find the basics from one of the smaller ones. I don't relish taking on a thousand years experience with biotics and mercenary work without knowing everything we can."
"I did some work as an information broker," Hann chimed in at Firuzeh's suggestion, bringing up her Omni-Tool to type away at it, "The problem with finding information on a specific individual is getting the right connections to find what you need. Family, friends, bank statements, the guy you ordered several nuclear payloads off of, all of them are valid ways of knowing who you are after. But if she has gone silent, assuming she had, it becomes more difficult to pull those strings." She turned her helmet to the captain, her Omni-Tool dissipating before she crossed her arms. "There is also the matter of information brokers being expensive, even the smaller ones charge an obscene amount." Hann stated, her head turning to gaze forwards.
"I find it greatly amusing, you know, all of this talk of traquilizer guns and information brokers when barely any of us are actually sitting on proper seating." Ardan remarked dryly. "Living inside of our means, people. Let's not blow what meager credits we have in our possession on things we can't afford until we get paid for services due, yeah?"
"When in doubt, I could shoot out her legs with my viper. I would think that it would be hard to focus on biotics when your leg has been blown off," Hann said, looking over at Ardan for a brief moment. "He may actually have to do some smoldering, you never never know. She may just like turians."
That earned a cocky smirk. "I'm sure you're just batting eyes behind that visor." Ardan replied.
"I don't do the batting eyes things, but if your pride is really that low then you can imagine that I am," Hann stated with a heavy attitude in her voice.
"Mm!" Jackson's eyes widened as he swallowed a spoonful of curry in a hurry and looked up. "Y'know, that leg idea ain't too shabby. I spent enough time in the cages to know there's nothing alive that can handle getting its leg fucked with for very long. Anyone ever had their shins kicked more than three times? Four times? They start to feel like omni-blades at first, tappin' away at your barriers. Then it starts to feel like a guy's foot might actually hack through your leg after all. You can't focus on shit except hoping you'll be able to stand again someday. A shotgun would do the deed a lot quicker than that. Are we getting paid for her legs?" The fighter put down his spoon and grinned contritely, looking like a puppy who had been caught on the furniture. "As long as her parents weren't no elcor or anything. I've never managed to fuck with an elcor's legs no matter how often I kick 'em. But what are ya gonna do."
"While I appreciate all of this delightful chat of dismemberment while we're eating, the good doctor will likely remind you that causes trauma and shock, which can lead to death, assuming blood loss from that pesky artery in her leg doesn't turn her stiff first." Ardan pointed out, mandible twitching slightly.
Bel tapped her chin, her brow creased in thought as she listened to the back and forth. An idea occured to her after a moment aand she grinned as she raised her hand once more.
"What about a net or a bola? Biotics need movement so that'd give us a helluva headstart."
"Oh shit. We got nunchucks!"
"Oh, spirits save me." Ardan groaned, picking up his bowl.
"A swell idea, assuming you can manage to actually get close enough to use them, can already reliably take people down with them - which I don't see many of us here doing - and assuming she doesn't reave the poor fool who got that close, undo the bolas, and run for it." Firuzeh countered, raising an eyebrow. "Some sort of taser type device might work, though. If we can get the electricity through the armor without cooking her, at any rate."
"I could use my tactical cloak to get close enough to do such a thing, but there would need to be a distraction so that I could properly use it. But, yes, a device like that would most likely do the trick," Hann said, agreeing with Firuzeh as she let out a bored huff. Her form shifted as she stood up from her seat and stretched her arms into the air, letting out a rather long yawn before stepping away from the makeshift table and the talk all together. Her feet brought her to the wall before she would speak again, "Regardless of our plan, it will be a hard fight. I've seen enough to know that no matter what we come up with, our plan will likely fall apart. I will do my part and deal with their security, cause some chaos, mess with their equipment, but I will leave the matriarch to be dealt with... anyone who thinks they can take her on." Her words were filled with a harshness and it seemed her attitude to the many plans was that of a cynical nature, almost as though she did not have the confidence that they would be able to pull it off. Hann's arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, sipping away at the past in her helmet.
Firuzeh sighed, massaging her forehead in frustration. "Any plan we come up with without at least some information beyond her name and former occupation is at best, firing blind, and at worst, setting us all up to die. Information brokers are expensive, true - but walking blind into a situation is a fool's errand. If we can't pay an information broker for enough details to keep our sorry hides in one piece, we'll need to... somehow, dig up some information ourselves. I'm no hacking wizard - but if any of you find some... hardware ins someone's head that might have information, I could take a crack at it. Otherwise, I'm another bullet dispenser."
"I know some of y'all got a bit of space magic too so if anyone knows Stasis, that'd be a real big help."
She assumed there had to be at least one other person in the group with a different biotic ability set than her own.
"This is again assuming an Asari matriarch doesn't have the skill and power to outdo any of us in a pure biotics matchup. I have my own 'space magic' as you put it - but I've about as much fine control over it as I do the inevitable passage of time. We cannot just rely on outmatching someone with more years experience than all of us combined in a contest of raw skill or power and hope to take her alive. If she'd come along quietly after losing an arm wrestling match, I or one of the krogan could have this over in a breeze - but it isn't as simple as that, and I can't think of any plan as simple as 'throw a stasis field on her' that wouldn't almost assuredly end in failure."
Jacks kept silent, finishing up his bowl of curry as his eyes flicked back and forth between the women.
Bel shrugged with a soft smile.
"You're a worrier, ain'tcha? But anyway, it's like my pappy always says, "keep it simple, stupid!" Just because a plan is simple don't mean it's a bad one."
"Pillars grant me strength." Kopris muttered in exasperation.
"Simple is fine, having a plan so simple it comprises of a single sentence and doesn't even attempt to figure out how we go about executing it? Not fine." Firuzeh countered. "It's important to gather as much information as you feasibly can." She eyed Kopris, "Batarian, how much information do you think your people had when they decided to hit Elysium? I'll wager more than a few officerial types thought it would be a fairly easy target - then bam, turns into a bloodbath. How much do you lot want to bet we'll be walking into the same situation if we just stumble in rear end first? Thinking our little motley crew can just take on someone with that level of experience in an open fight?"
Kopris sighed as his gaze shifted to the woman with the cybernetic arm, head still tilted to his right. That's a new record. It took eight minutes this time. He had expected something like this, sooner than this. People tended to see 'Batarian' and automatically and randomly associate them with the Blitz and Mindoir. The fact that they were right in Kopris' case did nothing to make it less annoying. He opened his mouth to retort, when their illustrious captain interjected. Kopris kept silent, finishing his curry.
"Oi,Khoroushi cut that Blitz crap. We honor the dead on this ship, we don't use them to prove a fucking point." Kolya reprimanded as he reappeared from the kitchen with more food. Sitting back down
Firuzeh snorted, "The dead don't care, they've moved on to greener pastures."
"That may be true" Kolya replied "But I care, because a lot of people I know died on Elysium that day and I'm not one to make a habit of taking my friends names in vain. So if you want to stay on this ship I suggest you listen to orders."
"Oh, good, guess what - I was there too." She countered, "Saw my friend's severed leg land a few meters away from me. It was a good time." She folded her arms, staring him down, "This isn't the Alliance - we're all here to work with you because we all want to make money - or kill things. Middle of battle? I'll listen to what you say, but I'll say and do what I damn well please outside of combat - especially if I survived the same hellhole the one telling me to stay silent about it did. The dead, if they do care what we do on this scummy galaxy full of scummy rocks, would want us to learn from their mistakes so we can join them in a less violent manner."
"Word to the wise, kid?" Ardan piped in. "Don't piss off the guy who's liable to shove your organs back in or the people who are supposed to help keep them there, or the guy who's writing your pay cheque. Spirits know that you're one of the ones they should have left back in humanity's cozy little solar system, and I was finding dinner somewhat tolerable until this point. Doesn't matter if we're mercenaries or if you're trying to show how tough and desensitized you are; you aren't impressing anyone, especially not a turian. Now play nice or I'm laying claim to your cut on the job and spending it on drinks for the rest of the team, because I'm a professional who cares about things like morale and unit cohesion." Ardan rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. "Yay." he muttered through a full mouth.
Kopris looked over at Ardan, his head straigtening, and nodded his appreciation as he stood to go get another bowl. While he doubted the turian was speaking out of any sense of camraderie or need to defend the Batarian, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. If only for it's professionalism.
"We are going to drop this" Kolya said.
"Thank fucking god." Faro muttered to himself while finishing up his meal.
Bel glanced around the room with wide eyes. To say she hadn't expected that would be a lie. She just didn't expect an outburst so soon. This called for drastic measures. As good as she was at breaking things, she also knew a few things about putting them together.
"I can see y'all're a little tense right now. So... how about we switch gears?" She set her bowl down and stood, taking her banjo in hand as she did. "Anyone got a request?" she asked cheerfully, "I know plenty of songs if not."
Admittedly, she hoped none of the non-humans would request a song. Not that she didn't know a few Turian battle hymns and a handful of Asari lymrics, they just didn't sound as good on a banjo. Sort of like trying to play Beethoven's 5th on a child's recorder.
“Southern Nights!” the Quarian called to Bel.
"The Devil Went Down to Georgia next!"
”I haven’t heard that one yet, I’ll need to add it to the playlist,” Hann said, perhaps with the only shred of happiness the others had heard from her thus far. She eagerly tapped away at her Omni-Tool to add the sound to a playlist that she had built up of songs that she needed to listen to.
"Hammer Smashed Face." Vash suggested as he crossed his arms and relaxed in his seat.
"If you guys want something sad, then listen to Slow Dancing in the Dark. Sad as hell." Faro said quietly while the others were suggesting songs. "Just saying..."
Firuzeh stared at the floor, fuming. She'd fucked it all up and snapped at the room full of the last people in the galaxy she should have been doing it to - again - and she could feel her fists clenching and unclenching. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm sorry." She looked up, visibly agitated, taking a deep breath, "By way of making up for it - all of you leave me some notes on favorite foods. I can't hack a mainframe or patch a gaping chest wound - but I can cook, and if we're all throwing ourselves at bullets we may as well do it with some 'homemade' food in our stomachs." She gestured to Ardan, "And to make a long story very short, that includes you - I know... a couple Turian foods if you've a thing for spices from souhern Palaven. O
I'll let the people with tactical training figure this shit out."
Kopris gave a slight shrug as he quickly finished his second bowl. Childish outburst aside, she hadn't been wrong. They needed more than just 'hit her with something and pray it works'. But now wasn't the time to bring up more planning. He leaned back slightly on his box, unwrapping a piece of candy he had pulled from his pocket and popping it into his mouth.
"Hey, Khoroushi" Kolya offered taking a deep breath "It's fine, no need to beat yourself up over it. I just have what you might call unresolved tensions after what happened at Elysium. I just get prickly when its mentioned that's all. I know your not trying to start a mutiny or anything. It's just I've seen a lot of people use the Blitz to justify whatever viewpoint or opinion that they want. All the while forgetting the people that died so they can talk about it. And that's not something I particularly enjoy."
Shrugging he added "And, if you want one of these days I can show you my family's morkovcha recipe. That's of course if you ain't dangerously allergic to carrots. Though I suppose if you are Three-Eyes will tell me..."
Kopris brought two fingers over his scarred eye in a sardonic salute to Koyla, chewing another piece of candy.
Clearing his throat, Kolya stood up and address the room. Taking his spoon in one hand, he rapped it against his bowl using the metallic clanging to get all eyes back on him.
"Alright, you bunch of degenerates, we have a long day tomorrow and it starts early so all those that didn't cook, help clean and pack. After that, all of you should try and get some sleep in. We meet back here at 0600 hours."
Bel did litle to hide her disappointment or maybe just didn't try at all, it was hard to tell. Either way, she sighed and slung the instrument over her shoulder.
"Yessir, I'll get right on it. I promise I'll play as many songs as y'all want tomorrow pending we're around to sing."
Some might find her cheer despite talking about the very real possibility of everyone being less than 24 hours from death to be a tad unsettling, but most sane people don't become mercenaries.
"Well, tomorrow is going to be interesting." Faro whispered to himself before heading towards the exit of the war room. He turned towards the group and said with a soft smile, "See you guys tomorrow. If you guys need something fixed or just want to talk, I will be in the observation deck."
Member
Plank Sinatra
That's understandable! Hopefully we will still be here lol
