EuRo
Junior Member
“Like hell you mean that.”
“I do mean that!”
“No you don't!”
“Yes I do!”
Bickering back and forth, a sister and brother glared at each other, both with the same stormy grayish blue eyes.
“Oh come on.” The brother sighed. “You're telling me you've never been on a vacation? At any time? Bullshit.”
“I have not been on vacation out of the Earth” The sister stated, folding her arms across her chest.
“What about that time we went to Illium?” He added.
“I was five!”
“It still counts!”
“No, it doesn't!”
“Okay, Anne, anything before you turning seven doesn't count.” He said, his comment dripping with sarcasm.
Anne did nothing but turned her head to look out the ship, glaring at the swirling nebula in the distance. “Fine. I'm not talking to you the rest of the way there, Virgil...” She replied, sticking her tongue out like a child and turned back to the window. The nebula of swirling stars around the blackness of space was the only thing Anne was paying attention to at the moment, glaring at their bright light with a hint of irritation.
Virgil mockingly stuck his out his tongue as well. “Fine. It's quieter anyway..” He pushed dark brown slightly curly hair from his broad forehead and stared at the next seats in front of him.
Both Virgil and Anne, both being brother and sister, argued like this often, but today was different. Today was Anne's birthday. Turning twenty-one, her brother decided to be nice and take her to see the Citadel, since he was going there anyway. He needed a vacation, get away from Earth as fast as he could.
Right now, he was regretting that decision.
The Alliance civilian vessel, named the Apathy, took a sudden deceleration, making the entire cabin rumble. The only passengers were Virgil and Anne, a couple of merchant Volus far to the right of the cabin, and a few new Alliance privates. Careful not to raise their own voices, the Volus kept to themselves, sending a few looks Virgil's way.
The handful of privates looked nervous, as Virgil could tell, sitting only a few rows in front of them. He and his sister's argument seemed to have spread through the cabin, with none of the privates looking him in the eye. One of the privates with a short blond crew cut glanced over in Virgil's direction with a confused and panicky look in his eyes. At first Virgil thought it was because of his rank, but once he observed the private more, he let out a small chuckle, knowing exactly what the grunt was thinking.
“What's your name?” Virgil asked, shifting in his seat to face the private.
“My name?” The marine's face didn't change, looking around him, wondering if Virgil was speaking to someone else. His accent was light and airy, a Scottish twang to his words.
“Yes, you. You have one, don't you?”
“It's Carson.” He replied, getting a good look at Virgil. His eyes flicked up, panicky when he saw Virgil's Alliance uniform, marked with various holographic pins and medals. Upon his left shoulder, his rank of lieutenant made the private stiffen up and give a quick salute. “It's Carson, sir.”
“Easy. I'm not on duty. Yet.” Virgil consoled him, motioning with his hand to relax.
“Yes..sir. I mean, Yes.”
“Good. Is this your first space flight, Carson?” Virgil asked.
Carson nodded rapidly, flinching to the sound of pressure escaping outside. He glanced out his seat window, fearing the entire ship was going through something dramatic. White billowy smoke rushed out about his window, pushing the vessel to starboard. His eyes jumped back to Virgil, who had a small grin forming on his face.
“No need to worry, Carson. These things are like flying the trams back at home. Just...with more space. Stay focused on me. Where you from?” Virgil assured, nodding gently.
“Uhm...” Carson glanced back at the window.
“Hey, on me.” Virgil ordered.
“England.” Carson gulped, a little bit of sweat forming beads on his forehead.
“Ah, England.” Virgil mused. “I heard it's wonderful this time of year.” He added, looking the nervous private in the eye.
“Oh, yes. It is, sir.” Carson nodded, giving a poor excuse of a grin.
“What's it like, Carson?” Virgil asked.
Carson's eyes flickered from the window back to the lieutenant warily. At first a brief moment passed between them, unsure what to say to the higher-ranking officer. But as Virgil motioned him to spill the details with a faint smile, the private opened up. Over the next few hours, Carson explained everything he could about his beloved country. His body wasn't as stiff anymore, no more did he have the panicked look on his face. Instead, he gave vigorous details on his home, giving some very descriptive stories of him and his brother escaping their troubles, much to the anger of their mother.
Virgil listened intently the entire time, making sure the private's attention was focused on him.“It sounds like you two were annoying to your mother.”
Carson let out a breath, rubbing at his chin, a bit of blonde scruff starting to show. “Yea, we were....”
The captain of the Apathy's voice crackled on the loudspeaker, making Carson jump slightly in his seat. The small distraction already wearing off.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, it is now 9:43a.m. , we just now reached the Citadel and we'll be landing shortly. Please put your tables up to their upright position and remain in your seats, as we'll be landing soon. Thank you.”
The lieutenant gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Now, I'm on duty. Good luck private.” Virgil nodded, returning to his seat with a loud sigh. He heard the private pipe up with a thank you, but it died down at the cabin shook, turning starboard once again.
Virgil leaned to Anne and spoke through the side of the mouth. “Well, you can talk to me now, since we're here now.”
Anne snapped her seat belt in with an angry glare and turned back to the window, her long maroon locks staring right back at him.
“I take that as a no...” Virgil muttered, doing the same.
The ship slowly dipped in the vacuum, humming as it slowed to a stop near the docking bay. Taking only five minutes to land and dock, unload it's passengers and numerous amounts of medicine and weapons. The bay was bustling with Alliance activity, moving crates and sergeants barking orders at their subordinates. Virgil took in the sights of the Citadel, breathing in the smell of Eezo and oil. Content on just staying at the docks, he muttered a little prayer under his breath. The sound of air hissing out of the bay doors to the Apathy shook him from his trance, watching his sister walk by with long strides.
He sighed heavily, taking a black duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulder. Imprinted on the side was the Alliance symbol, along with stickers and postcards of various planets and cities. Most of them were of him standing with a cheesy grin with the city in the backdrop.
Anne was still not talking to Virgil as they both walked out of the bay. Her face was stoic, but her movements gave her anger away. The silence between the two was tense, as they continued to the Citadel Wards.
“You know, you can go back home if you want, if I'm that much of a problem to you.” Virgil said, breaking the awkward silence between them. The central courtyard of the wards reaching a rumbling drone from the amount of people insde, Anna stopped and looked at her brother. A sigh escaped her five foot six small frame, her pale lips puckering in thought. “No..I'm sorry. I just thought Mon and Dad would come with us.”
Virgil eyebrows furrowed and his mouth twisted into a slight smirk. “Well, yeah, at least you've got me.”
Anne raised an eyebrow, walking over to him and playfully bumping into Virgil. He reached his side in a fake, mocking pain, with a funny look on his face. It at least got her to smile slightly, along with a small chuckle.
“Thanks bro.”
“No problem sis.”
“Now. Where is this...friend..you speak of?”
“He's there.” Virgil stated, pointing to the far end of the courtyard. Nestled near the bars and small shops, a long staircase led down farther to the apartment complexes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small slip of plastic, handing it to her with a stern gaze. “Don't loose this. Show this to Metrica at the door, and she'll show you to where you'll be for the week.”
“Okay...” she mused, taking the bright plastic chip and shoving it down her pair of black slacks. “Where are you going?” She asked.
“Have to go tell the Alliance I'm here.” He sighed. “My CO wanted me to come in as soon as I touched down. So...”
“So...” She trailed off, brushing Virgil's shoulder with a small mischievous smirk. “Don't go dying on me, you hear? I want that birthday dinner you promised.”
“I won't. Besides, you're not getting rid of me that easily.”
The two embraced each other, Anna letting out a breath and sticking her head under Virgil's chin. Her face showed a hint sign of sadness, mixed with concern at her brother. Just barely seen each other, and already he was leaving. They haven't seen each other in a couple years, during his missions and extra training, he wasn't able to return home. Until recently, only to have his leave canceled. The thought of her brother not returning this time was enough to make their embrace last for minutes.
Hand on back of her head, he ruffled her hair with a deep sigh. “Enjoy yourself. There isn't a shortage of stuff to do here.” He added, giving a quick peck on her forehead. The two pushed away, Anna wiping away a small tear.
“I'll see you soon, Phoenix.” He joked, shifting his duffel bag.
“Right back at yah, Darwin.” She laughed, her pain subsiding.
With that, the two made their separate ways. Anna weaved her way through the crowd and down the stairs, away from his sight.
Virgil glanced back at the trailing curls of his sister and melted into the crowd, wishing he never stepped off Earth.
The Alliance Transit and Registration station was packed full with new privates, never had Virgil seen so many before. A wave of nostalgic memories flew through his mind, to his own days first as an Alliance Navy Private. He doubt many of them would even make it, but then again, none of them had his marksmanship skills and adaptability. He caught a look at the nervous private from the Apathy. Not too long ago he was a nervous wreck, now he was laughing, joking with a couple other men near the sitting lounges.
He was glad for Carson. Already on the Citadel and made a few comrades.
'If only it were that easy for me..'Virgil thought bitterly.
The Registration clerk behind the counter looked up through black rimmed spectacles, typing into the holo-board beneath her fingernails.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Even though she gave him a 'sir' at the end, she spoke like she was tired of working, with a condesding tone that made Virgil quirk an eyebrow.
“I'm reporting in.” He stated, reaching into his Alliance jacket pocket. “Serial 421 Tango Whisky 3.”
The receptionist muttered back his serial, looking down the holograms with tired eyes. “Ah, yes. Virgil Myendraili?”
“That's me..” He brought up his omni-tool, glowing a dull orange. He slid a document over to her console, with more information on his credentials.
She clicked her tongue, tapping a few more keys. The silence between the two made Virgil shift on his feet.
“Okay. Your CO wishes to see you. Through that door.” She motioned to the hallway adjacent from the desk.
“Uh, alright. Thanks.” He walked away, a puzzled look contorting his face. “Have a nice day.” He added, knowing full well she wouldn't return the thanks. And to be a little shit.
His CO's office made Virgil feel small, even though he was a height of six four. The room was made for someone much smaller, not requiring as much room. Swinging around in a coaxial chair, his CO looked upon him with stern eyes. The small man motioned Virgil forward with his hand, his other bringing up his omni-tool. “Come in, Myendraili.”
Virgil strode over to his desk, standing at attention. “At ease.” The commander muttered, typing into his tool.
At his full height, Virgil seemed to tower over the man. His dark head of slicked back hair and matching full beard was neatly trimmed, standing out against his olive-toned skin. His attire matching Virgil's own, only with a number more ribbons and his rank of Commander on his chest. He stood up and brought up images on his tool. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent them to Virgil, who looked down on them incredulously.
“Zion. This planet has a Helium-3 plant there, giving fuel to our nearby colonies. Recently, the facility went dark.” He added, folding his arms behind his back. “That plant helps our foothold in the Terminus systems, and having it go dark is not something we want. That's why I'm sending you.” The commander motioned to Virgil, who looked up with a quirked eyebrow. “Me? Alone, sir?”
“Yes, of course. Your superior officer, Martin, spoke highly of you over in TacDef and Recon. Says your very good at what you do. We need someone who can get in and out without attracting any attention, if there is a problem, you are to find their origins and signal for backup. If not, well, then this will be a walk in the park for you.”
Virgil was very surprised that Martin would recommend him for a solo-op. What with him always barking in his ear on how horrible he was, he didn't think Martin was capable of giving praise. “Well, sir. I'm honored..but..”
“But what, lieutenant?”
“I'm not much of a solo-operative. Why send me?”
The CO's eyes stared right through Virgil, bending over his desk and getting near his face. “Because. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, lieutenant. Finish this mission, and expect more like these in the future.”
Virgil stiffed and nodded, backing away from the CO's stern glare. “Will do, sir.”
“Good. Now get out of my office. Your transport leaves in a few hours. I suggest you take it.” He finished, shooing Virgil out of his office.
The light humming of the frigate ship made Virgil feel at ease, although not as much as he liked. Feeling the artificial gravity beneath his feet and the slight ringing hum always made him love the cold vacuum of space. Like riding in an expensive, well made car, it was the ride that mattered, not the destination. The wind whipping through his hair, the smell of asphalt and blacktop. Although the lack of wind was apparent in the vacuum of space, the rumbling the vessel gave in Virgil's spine didn't make him feel less at ease.
Stressing about his assignment made him tense and volatile, ignoring the subtle comfort the ship gave him.
Aboard the Alliance vessel the Shanghai, he had placed himself near the weapons bay, adjacent to the gun's workshop that had plenty of grunts working on their weapons nearby.
Having a bench to himself, Virgil toyed with a small round object, observing it with curious eyes. The infra-red scope adapter was useful for his sniper rifle, but it lacked the situational awareness that he always craved in his scopes. Getting a better view of his battlefield was a first priority to him, and how to adapt to it was the way he landed the name 'Darwin.” As in Charles Darwin's theory of selection: “Only the most adaptable survive the changing environment, always ending up on top.”
He was proud and often told people who asked about his call-sign. Though he wasn't much of a show-off, he loved to at least tell them that. It was a proud moment for him, like pinning a medal to one's chest and showing it off. The idea of a call-sign made him shiver in anticipation when he was just a cadet. 'I wonder what they'll call me?'
He grumbled something under his breath, tossing the scope piece near his sniper. A M-92 Mantis laying on it's side, was Virgil's prized rifle. Painted a dark navy blue coat, it had slight scuffs and marks near it's main body. Seeing as much action as he had, the rifle was the standard for every sniper or solider in the Alliance, but what made it special was the elongated barrel and internal mechanisms that Virgil implanted himself; A couple of extra vents to keep the gun nice and cool and allow for more shots, regardless of the thermal clip. A mod here or there, usually depended on what mission he was taking.
Get him talking about his Mantis, and oh boy.
The thought of his first solo-op bothered him considerably. Obviously it made him second guess every decision he made, often followed by a bitter thought and trashing the concept. His sniper rifle was changed, cleaned, and modified so many times since he stepped foot four hours ago on the Shanghai, he could of made seven different variants of the rifle.
Normally, he would carry just the basic Predator pistol given to basally everyone in the Alliance, but recently he acquired a M-5 Phalanx, at a great cost of money and pain. Surprisingly, the holder got a hold of his record with pistols and was hesitant to give it to him. What with throwing it straight at a charging Krogan when he ran out of clips, and nearly destroying a few when he tried to put a bigger chamber and barrel for larger rounds, it was no wonder that he was looked upon with skepticism.
'It is a nice pistol' Virgil thought, glancing up at it near his rifle's adjustable stock. Pristine and looking like it was just removed from it's packaging, Virgil didn't bother trying to modify it now. First he need to test it in combat before he would make a few tweaks to it's system. Hopefully without damaging the gorgeous paint job.
He fumbled again at the rifle's barrel, he threw the entire weapon down with an angry breath. “No, that won't work either!” The rifle landed with a clunk. He leaned against the bench, tapping his fingers angrily in thought against the steel.
“Maybe you should try keeping it as it is.” He heard a familiar voice, tuning to his left to see Private Carson staring back at him.
Virgil coughed, clearing his throat and standing up, adjusting his dark jacket. Wearing his civilian clothes, he didn't have to be on mission site in till another three hours. Though, the thought of jumping alone in a dark zone was enough to make him keep his weapon nearby him at all times. A cold comfort, touching plastic and steel against his fingertips, knowing he could protect himself with his rifle. Whether by mental or physical stress.
He patted down his pants, searching for something in his pockets. “I don't plan on making it as it is, Carson.” He replied, rather perturbed.
“I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to pry.” Carson nodded, a little hesitant in talking to the tall lieutenant.
Virgil sighed heavily, pulling out a few Alan wrenches from his pocket. “No, you're fine, Private. I only meant it as a fact. My next drop isn't going to be a pleasant one.” He stated, tossing the wrenches on the rifle.
“Sir? What drop?”
Virgil rubbed at his chin, deciding what details to reveal to private. “Only thing I can tell you it's a dark zone. Other than that, it's classified.”
Carson let out a low whistle. “Dark zone? Must be moving up in the world, eh sir?” He joked, a smile cracking on his pale face.
Virgil sent a stern glance at him, watching the private fidget and mutter something his breath. “Indeed I am, Private. Now, are you going to tell me what you came down here for?”
“Sir?”
“You didn't come down here to make idle conversation, and since you have no weapon on your person, you don't plan on using the benches. So, speak.”
Carson was hesitant on talking to Virgil. What with his ranking, and his intimidating demeanor. So he tried to form his words carefully. “I..wanted to thank you. For what you did on the Apathy for me.”
Virgil looked Carson up and down. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” He said coolly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh...I'm sorry to have bothered you then.” He replied, backing away. “I'll...I'll just go then...” Carson gave a salute, quickly turned on his heels, walking away a bit faster than usual.
Virgil watched with a stoic face, but let out a deeply troubled sigh. It was normal for him to receive that kind of gestures and wariness in his direction. Being a tall man, with deep hooded icy steel-blue eyes, he seemed to be always staring angrily at the world. Though, it was his stoic face, and didn't often show his anger unless under extreme stress. It was his cold logic that made him everyone else around him guarded and careful how they formed their words, lest they try to incite his 'wrath', whether misguided or not.
'Making friends once again..'
Virgil tapped his finger's against the side of his thighs, getting lost in his thoughts once more.
Now that his assignment was nearing it's start, Virgil finally decided in the three hours to change a few minor things in his rifle. Satisfied, he threw his weapon upon his back, clutching hard against the dropship's ceiling. Although he was nervous and panicking over every detail on the ship, he was eerily calm when descending into Zion. Wearing the Duelist light armor, always his armor of choice due to it's high shield capacity, he placed his matching helmet under his arm.
The Mako turned in the blowing wind, the nitrogen-rich atmosphere clouding the pilot's view of the Helium-3 plant. Thought, through the infra-red display, the pilot easily maneuvered to the station and landed with a slight thump near the entrance.
“We're here, sir. Just signal when you need a pick-up.”
Virgil strapped on his helmet, taking one more deep breath. “Will do.” He replied, bashing the side of the Mako with his fist. The door opened, showing a long metallic catwalk. Small and narrow, it seemed only one person could fit through. Why his pilot choose such an odd landing zone was Virgil's idea. Wouldn't want to attract attention through the front of the facility.
The wind howled around him, making him stagger and trying to push his way into the airlock door. He groaned under the pressure of the wind, nearly throwing himself into the airlock.
“Sheesh. Barely here two seconds and I'm already annoyed of this place.” He muttered. With a small flick of his omni-tool, he closed the airlock.
Observing the darkness that swelled around his visor, Virgil felt the airlock suck the nitrogen rich air out of the room, replacing it with safe breathable oxygen. With a steadying breath, he clicked up his visor and lower mask, thankful of the fresh taste of air in his lungs. A bright pale orange light flickered on in the airlock, Virgil rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen his muscles. Getting ready for the start of his mission.
“Alright. Here goes nothing.”
Before he opened the door to the inside of the facility, he took a quick glance through the pitiful sized window, only seeing nothing but darkness and pipes. Satisfied, Virgil pushed it open with a small grunt, aiming his Phalanx in front of him.
He waited a few quiet, tense seconds, in case something was waiting for him just inside the facility. He didn't want to take any chances, not on his first solo op. His eyes darted around to scan his surroundings as soon as he exited the cramped airlock.
Standing on what looked like the third floor, the expansive room seemed to make Virgil feel small and insignificant. Thousands of pipes snaked their way in and out of the walls around him, from what he could surmise, the liquid Helium-3 fuel was stored and processed in this metal vault. Reaching at least a hundred feet above his head, and twice as long, it was a massive piece of architecture. Sometimes he forgot how much the human race did to keep their way of life alive, so much subtle and intricate details and massive manpower to just keep a ship flying through space.
Feet clanking against the steel beneath his feet, Virgil made his way through the catwalk on his floor with his pistol near his hip. His muscles tensed at the complete silence, only hearing the sounds of escaping steam every few seconds. It was odd to have a expansive plant such as this to be so silent. There should be the sounds of machinery clamoring in the corridors, and shouting of men barking orders. While Virgil preferred the quiet over anything else, this deadly silence made his the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Nothing was coming to his ears. Not even the ghosts of automated machines performing their duties without their human masters.
It was too quiet.
Having made halfway into the facility, he made a mental note of where each corridor led, in case he needed to escape back to the airlock. An escape plan was his first priority, and having marked one of the walls with a small chip, he had done just that. The small chip quickly blinked a sage light, marking that corridor as his way out.
Continuing on his way, Virgil stopped dead in his tracks, observing and taking in the details of the scene before him.
Leaning up against the cold steel wall, a body of a woman was slumped over the body of a man twice her size. From what he could tell, Virgil noted the three dead center shots to their chests, making a mental note that whatever killed these two engineers had deadly precision. Edging closer to the bodies, he also took note of the plasma burns through their clothing, suggesting the shots had some distance on them when fired. Though he was cautious, he was no fool. 'Better safe than sorry' was the mantra he lived by, it was the very essence of the way he handled missions. And so far, it hadn't let him down.
Who killed them was still a mystery to him, but something broke his concentration, and the stillness in the air. From what he could tell, it sounded like weapon fire. Followed by the thunderous trademark boom of biotics.
The thought of him not being alone made his muscles bunch in anticipation. Taking one last glance at the two bodies, he quickened his pace into the dark corridors.
His priority to find other survivors, the dense adrenaline of knowing he was going to enter a firefight seeped into his veins. Replacing his Phalanx and looking down the scope of his Mantis, Virgil picked up two tall shapes in the dark. Far across the other side of the complex, near the entrance of the facility. High above on the fifth floor, from what he could tell, a biotic-wielding lone solider was fending off one other silhouette. Of what, he couldn't make out. Until he heard it.
Clicking. The chattering of mechanical blips in his visor. A solid screech echoing in his mic-bud against his ears.
“What the hell?” He muttered, tapping on the side of his helmet. Convinced it was nothing more than static, Virgil propped his bipod on the steel rails and aimed down range. He didn't know what the firefight was about, but he was going to get as much information as he could before even considering taking a shot. His job was to get in and get out, quietly. Helping this lone biotic was not his priority. Though he kept a quiet, hawk-like gaze, observing the shape disintegrate under the biotic warrior's fury.
“I do mean that!”
“No you don't!”
“Yes I do!”
Bickering back and forth, a sister and brother glared at each other, both with the same stormy grayish blue eyes.
“Oh come on.” The brother sighed. “You're telling me you've never been on a vacation? At any time? Bullshit.”
“I have not been on vacation out of the Earth” The sister stated, folding her arms across her chest.
“What about that time we went to Illium?” He added.
“I was five!”
“It still counts!”
“No, it doesn't!”
“Okay, Anne, anything before you turning seven doesn't count.” He said, his comment dripping with sarcasm.
Anne did nothing but turned her head to look out the ship, glaring at the swirling nebula in the distance. “Fine. I'm not talking to you the rest of the way there, Virgil...” She replied, sticking her tongue out like a child and turned back to the window. The nebula of swirling stars around the blackness of space was the only thing Anne was paying attention to at the moment, glaring at their bright light with a hint of irritation.
Virgil mockingly stuck his out his tongue as well. “Fine. It's quieter anyway..” He pushed dark brown slightly curly hair from his broad forehead and stared at the next seats in front of him.
Both Virgil and Anne, both being brother and sister, argued like this often, but today was different. Today was Anne's birthday. Turning twenty-one, her brother decided to be nice and take her to see the Citadel, since he was going there anyway. He needed a vacation, get away from Earth as fast as he could.
Right now, he was regretting that decision.
The Alliance civilian vessel, named the Apathy, took a sudden deceleration, making the entire cabin rumble. The only passengers were Virgil and Anne, a couple of merchant Volus far to the right of the cabin, and a few new Alliance privates. Careful not to raise their own voices, the Volus kept to themselves, sending a few looks Virgil's way.
The handful of privates looked nervous, as Virgil could tell, sitting only a few rows in front of them. He and his sister's argument seemed to have spread through the cabin, with none of the privates looking him in the eye. One of the privates with a short blond crew cut glanced over in Virgil's direction with a confused and panicky look in his eyes. At first Virgil thought it was because of his rank, but once he observed the private more, he let out a small chuckle, knowing exactly what the grunt was thinking.
“What's your name?” Virgil asked, shifting in his seat to face the private.
“My name?” The marine's face didn't change, looking around him, wondering if Virgil was speaking to someone else. His accent was light and airy, a Scottish twang to his words.
“Yes, you. You have one, don't you?”
“It's Carson.” He replied, getting a good look at Virgil. His eyes flicked up, panicky when he saw Virgil's Alliance uniform, marked with various holographic pins and medals. Upon his left shoulder, his rank of lieutenant made the private stiffen up and give a quick salute. “It's Carson, sir.”
“Easy. I'm not on duty. Yet.” Virgil consoled him, motioning with his hand to relax.
“Yes..sir. I mean, Yes.”
“Good. Is this your first space flight, Carson?” Virgil asked.
Carson nodded rapidly, flinching to the sound of pressure escaping outside. He glanced out his seat window, fearing the entire ship was going through something dramatic. White billowy smoke rushed out about his window, pushing the vessel to starboard. His eyes jumped back to Virgil, who had a small grin forming on his face.
“No need to worry, Carson. These things are like flying the trams back at home. Just...with more space. Stay focused on me. Where you from?” Virgil assured, nodding gently.
“Uhm...” Carson glanced back at the window.
“Hey, on me.” Virgil ordered.
“England.” Carson gulped, a little bit of sweat forming beads on his forehead.
“Ah, England.” Virgil mused. “I heard it's wonderful this time of year.” He added, looking the nervous private in the eye.
“Oh, yes. It is, sir.” Carson nodded, giving a poor excuse of a grin.
“What's it like, Carson?” Virgil asked.
Carson's eyes flickered from the window back to the lieutenant warily. At first a brief moment passed between them, unsure what to say to the higher-ranking officer. But as Virgil motioned him to spill the details with a faint smile, the private opened up. Over the next few hours, Carson explained everything he could about his beloved country. His body wasn't as stiff anymore, no more did he have the panicked look on his face. Instead, he gave vigorous details on his home, giving some very descriptive stories of him and his brother escaping their troubles, much to the anger of their mother.
Virgil listened intently the entire time, making sure the private's attention was focused on him.“It sounds like you two were annoying to your mother.”
Carson let out a breath, rubbing at his chin, a bit of blonde scruff starting to show. “Yea, we were....”
The captain of the Apathy's voice crackled on the loudspeaker, making Carson jump slightly in his seat. The small distraction already wearing off.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, it is now 9:43a.m. , we just now reached the Citadel and we'll be landing shortly. Please put your tables up to their upright position and remain in your seats, as we'll be landing soon. Thank you.”
The lieutenant gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Now, I'm on duty. Good luck private.” Virgil nodded, returning to his seat with a loud sigh. He heard the private pipe up with a thank you, but it died down at the cabin shook, turning starboard once again.
Virgil leaned to Anne and spoke through the side of the mouth. “Well, you can talk to me now, since we're here now.”
Anne snapped her seat belt in with an angry glare and turned back to the window, her long maroon locks staring right back at him.
“I take that as a no...” Virgil muttered, doing the same.
The ship slowly dipped in the vacuum, humming as it slowed to a stop near the docking bay. Taking only five minutes to land and dock, unload it's passengers and numerous amounts of medicine and weapons. The bay was bustling with Alliance activity, moving crates and sergeants barking orders at their subordinates. Virgil took in the sights of the Citadel, breathing in the smell of Eezo and oil. Content on just staying at the docks, he muttered a little prayer under his breath. The sound of air hissing out of the bay doors to the Apathy shook him from his trance, watching his sister walk by with long strides.
He sighed heavily, taking a black duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulder. Imprinted on the side was the Alliance symbol, along with stickers and postcards of various planets and cities. Most of them were of him standing with a cheesy grin with the city in the backdrop.
Anne was still not talking to Virgil as they both walked out of the bay. Her face was stoic, but her movements gave her anger away. The silence between the two was tense, as they continued to the Citadel Wards.
“You know, you can go back home if you want, if I'm that much of a problem to you.” Virgil said, breaking the awkward silence between them. The central courtyard of the wards reaching a rumbling drone from the amount of people insde, Anna stopped and looked at her brother. A sigh escaped her five foot six small frame, her pale lips puckering in thought. “No..I'm sorry. I just thought Mon and Dad would come with us.”
Virgil eyebrows furrowed and his mouth twisted into a slight smirk. “Well, yeah, at least you've got me.”
Anne raised an eyebrow, walking over to him and playfully bumping into Virgil. He reached his side in a fake, mocking pain, with a funny look on his face. It at least got her to smile slightly, along with a small chuckle.
“Thanks bro.”
“No problem sis.”
“Now. Where is this...friend..you speak of?”
“He's there.” Virgil stated, pointing to the far end of the courtyard. Nestled near the bars and small shops, a long staircase led down farther to the apartment complexes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small slip of plastic, handing it to her with a stern gaze. “Don't loose this. Show this to Metrica at the door, and she'll show you to where you'll be for the week.”
“Okay...” she mused, taking the bright plastic chip and shoving it down her pair of black slacks. “Where are you going?” She asked.
“Have to go tell the Alliance I'm here.” He sighed. “My CO wanted me to come in as soon as I touched down. So...”
“So...” She trailed off, brushing Virgil's shoulder with a small mischievous smirk. “Don't go dying on me, you hear? I want that birthday dinner you promised.”
“I won't. Besides, you're not getting rid of me that easily.”
The two embraced each other, Anna letting out a breath and sticking her head under Virgil's chin. Her face showed a hint sign of sadness, mixed with concern at her brother. Just barely seen each other, and already he was leaving. They haven't seen each other in a couple years, during his missions and extra training, he wasn't able to return home. Until recently, only to have his leave canceled. The thought of her brother not returning this time was enough to make their embrace last for minutes.
Hand on back of her head, he ruffled her hair with a deep sigh. “Enjoy yourself. There isn't a shortage of stuff to do here.” He added, giving a quick peck on her forehead. The two pushed away, Anna wiping away a small tear.
“I'll see you soon, Phoenix.” He joked, shifting his duffel bag.
“Right back at yah, Darwin.” She laughed, her pain subsiding.
With that, the two made their separate ways. Anna weaved her way through the crowd and down the stairs, away from his sight.
Virgil glanced back at the trailing curls of his sister and melted into the crowd, wishing he never stepped off Earth.
The Alliance Transit and Registration station was packed full with new privates, never had Virgil seen so many before. A wave of nostalgic memories flew through his mind, to his own days first as an Alliance Navy Private. He doubt many of them would even make it, but then again, none of them had his marksmanship skills and adaptability. He caught a look at the nervous private from the Apathy. Not too long ago he was a nervous wreck, now he was laughing, joking with a couple other men near the sitting lounges.
He was glad for Carson. Already on the Citadel and made a few comrades.
'If only it were that easy for me..'Virgil thought bitterly.
The Registration clerk behind the counter looked up through black rimmed spectacles, typing into the holo-board beneath her fingernails.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Even though she gave him a 'sir' at the end, she spoke like she was tired of working, with a condesding tone that made Virgil quirk an eyebrow.
“I'm reporting in.” He stated, reaching into his Alliance jacket pocket. “Serial 421 Tango Whisky 3.”
The receptionist muttered back his serial, looking down the holograms with tired eyes. “Ah, yes. Virgil Myendraili?”
“That's me..” He brought up his omni-tool, glowing a dull orange. He slid a document over to her console, with more information on his credentials.
She clicked her tongue, tapping a few more keys. The silence between the two made Virgil shift on his feet.
“Okay. Your CO wishes to see you. Through that door.” She motioned to the hallway adjacent from the desk.
“Uh, alright. Thanks.” He walked away, a puzzled look contorting his face. “Have a nice day.” He added, knowing full well she wouldn't return the thanks. And to be a little shit.
His CO's office made Virgil feel small, even though he was a height of six four. The room was made for someone much smaller, not requiring as much room. Swinging around in a coaxial chair, his CO looked upon him with stern eyes. The small man motioned Virgil forward with his hand, his other bringing up his omni-tool. “Come in, Myendraili.”
Virgil strode over to his desk, standing at attention. “At ease.” The commander muttered, typing into his tool.
At his full height, Virgil seemed to tower over the man. His dark head of slicked back hair and matching full beard was neatly trimmed, standing out against his olive-toned skin. His attire matching Virgil's own, only with a number more ribbons and his rank of Commander on his chest. He stood up and brought up images on his tool. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent them to Virgil, who looked down on them incredulously.
“Zion. This planet has a Helium-3 plant there, giving fuel to our nearby colonies. Recently, the facility went dark.” He added, folding his arms behind his back. “That plant helps our foothold in the Terminus systems, and having it go dark is not something we want. That's why I'm sending you.” The commander motioned to Virgil, who looked up with a quirked eyebrow. “Me? Alone, sir?”
“Yes, of course. Your superior officer, Martin, spoke highly of you over in TacDef and Recon. Says your very good at what you do. We need someone who can get in and out without attracting any attention, if there is a problem, you are to find their origins and signal for backup. If not, well, then this will be a walk in the park for you.”
Virgil was very surprised that Martin would recommend him for a solo-op. What with him always barking in his ear on how horrible he was, he didn't think Martin was capable of giving praise. “Well, sir. I'm honored..but..”
“But what, lieutenant?”
“I'm not much of a solo-operative. Why send me?”
The CO's eyes stared right through Virgil, bending over his desk and getting near his face. “Because. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, lieutenant. Finish this mission, and expect more like these in the future.”
Virgil stiffed and nodded, backing away from the CO's stern glare. “Will do, sir.”
“Good. Now get out of my office. Your transport leaves in a few hours. I suggest you take it.” He finished, shooing Virgil out of his office.
The light humming of the frigate ship made Virgil feel at ease, although not as much as he liked. Feeling the artificial gravity beneath his feet and the slight ringing hum always made him love the cold vacuum of space. Like riding in an expensive, well made car, it was the ride that mattered, not the destination. The wind whipping through his hair, the smell of asphalt and blacktop. Although the lack of wind was apparent in the vacuum of space, the rumbling the vessel gave in Virgil's spine didn't make him feel less at ease.
Stressing about his assignment made him tense and volatile, ignoring the subtle comfort the ship gave him.
Aboard the Alliance vessel the Shanghai, he had placed himself near the weapons bay, adjacent to the gun's workshop that had plenty of grunts working on their weapons nearby.
Having a bench to himself, Virgil toyed with a small round object, observing it with curious eyes. The infra-red scope adapter was useful for his sniper rifle, but it lacked the situational awareness that he always craved in his scopes. Getting a better view of his battlefield was a first priority to him, and how to adapt to it was the way he landed the name 'Darwin.” As in Charles Darwin's theory of selection: “Only the most adaptable survive the changing environment, always ending up on top.”
He was proud and often told people who asked about his call-sign. Though he wasn't much of a show-off, he loved to at least tell them that. It was a proud moment for him, like pinning a medal to one's chest and showing it off. The idea of a call-sign made him shiver in anticipation when he was just a cadet. 'I wonder what they'll call me?'
He grumbled something under his breath, tossing the scope piece near his sniper. A M-92 Mantis laying on it's side, was Virgil's prized rifle. Painted a dark navy blue coat, it had slight scuffs and marks near it's main body. Seeing as much action as he had, the rifle was the standard for every sniper or solider in the Alliance, but what made it special was the elongated barrel and internal mechanisms that Virgil implanted himself; A couple of extra vents to keep the gun nice and cool and allow for more shots, regardless of the thermal clip. A mod here or there, usually depended on what mission he was taking.
Get him talking about his Mantis, and oh boy.
The thought of his first solo-op bothered him considerably. Obviously it made him second guess every decision he made, often followed by a bitter thought and trashing the concept. His sniper rifle was changed, cleaned, and modified so many times since he stepped foot four hours ago on the Shanghai, he could of made seven different variants of the rifle.
Normally, he would carry just the basic Predator pistol given to basally everyone in the Alliance, but recently he acquired a M-5 Phalanx, at a great cost of money and pain. Surprisingly, the holder got a hold of his record with pistols and was hesitant to give it to him. What with throwing it straight at a charging Krogan when he ran out of clips, and nearly destroying a few when he tried to put a bigger chamber and barrel for larger rounds, it was no wonder that he was looked upon with skepticism.
'It is a nice pistol' Virgil thought, glancing up at it near his rifle's adjustable stock. Pristine and looking like it was just removed from it's packaging, Virgil didn't bother trying to modify it now. First he need to test it in combat before he would make a few tweaks to it's system. Hopefully without damaging the gorgeous paint job.
He fumbled again at the rifle's barrel, he threw the entire weapon down with an angry breath. “No, that won't work either!” The rifle landed with a clunk. He leaned against the bench, tapping his fingers angrily in thought against the steel.
“Maybe you should try keeping it as it is.” He heard a familiar voice, tuning to his left to see Private Carson staring back at him.
Virgil coughed, clearing his throat and standing up, adjusting his dark jacket. Wearing his civilian clothes, he didn't have to be on mission site in till another three hours. Though, the thought of jumping alone in a dark zone was enough to make him keep his weapon nearby him at all times. A cold comfort, touching plastic and steel against his fingertips, knowing he could protect himself with his rifle. Whether by mental or physical stress.
He patted down his pants, searching for something in his pockets. “I don't plan on making it as it is, Carson.” He replied, rather perturbed.
“I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to pry.” Carson nodded, a little hesitant in talking to the tall lieutenant.
Virgil sighed heavily, pulling out a few Alan wrenches from his pocket. “No, you're fine, Private. I only meant it as a fact. My next drop isn't going to be a pleasant one.” He stated, tossing the wrenches on the rifle.
“Sir? What drop?”
Virgil rubbed at his chin, deciding what details to reveal to private. “Only thing I can tell you it's a dark zone. Other than that, it's classified.”
Carson let out a low whistle. “Dark zone? Must be moving up in the world, eh sir?” He joked, a smile cracking on his pale face.
Virgil sent a stern glance at him, watching the private fidget and mutter something his breath. “Indeed I am, Private. Now, are you going to tell me what you came down here for?”
“Sir?”
“You didn't come down here to make idle conversation, and since you have no weapon on your person, you don't plan on using the benches. So, speak.”
Carson was hesitant on talking to Virgil. What with his ranking, and his intimidating demeanor. So he tried to form his words carefully. “I..wanted to thank you. For what you did on the Apathy for me.”
Virgil looked Carson up and down. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” He said coolly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh...I'm sorry to have bothered you then.” He replied, backing away. “I'll...I'll just go then...” Carson gave a salute, quickly turned on his heels, walking away a bit faster than usual.
Virgil watched with a stoic face, but let out a deeply troubled sigh. It was normal for him to receive that kind of gestures and wariness in his direction. Being a tall man, with deep hooded icy steel-blue eyes, he seemed to be always staring angrily at the world. Though, it was his stoic face, and didn't often show his anger unless under extreme stress. It was his cold logic that made him everyone else around him guarded and careful how they formed their words, lest they try to incite his 'wrath', whether misguided or not.
'Making friends once again..'
Virgil tapped his finger's against the side of his thighs, getting lost in his thoughts once more.
Now that his assignment was nearing it's start, Virgil finally decided in the three hours to change a few minor things in his rifle. Satisfied, he threw his weapon upon his back, clutching hard against the dropship's ceiling. Although he was nervous and panicking over every detail on the ship, he was eerily calm when descending into Zion. Wearing the Duelist light armor, always his armor of choice due to it's high shield capacity, he placed his matching helmet under his arm.
The Mako turned in the blowing wind, the nitrogen-rich atmosphere clouding the pilot's view of the Helium-3 plant. Thought, through the infra-red display, the pilot easily maneuvered to the station and landed with a slight thump near the entrance.
“We're here, sir. Just signal when you need a pick-up.”
Virgil strapped on his helmet, taking one more deep breath. “Will do.” He replied, bashing the side of the Mako with his fist. The door opened, showing a long metallic catwalk. Small and narrow, it seemed only one person could fit through. Why his pilot choose such an odd landing zone was Virgil's idea. Wouldn't want to attract attention through the front of the facility.
The wind howled around him, making him stagger and trying to push his way into the airlock door. He groaned under the pressure of the wind, nearly throwing himself into the airlock.
“Sheesh. Barely here two seconds and I'm already annoyed of this place.” He muttered. With a small flick of his omni-tool, he closed the airlock.
Observing the darkness that swelled around his visor, Virgil felt the airlock suck the nitrogen rich air out of the room, replacing it with safe breathable oxygen. With a steadying breath, he clicked up his visor and lower mask, thankful of the fresh taste of air in his lungs. A bright pale orange light flickered on in the airlock, Virgil rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen his muscles. Getting ready for the start of his mission.
“Alright. Here goes nothing.”
Before he opened the door to the inside of the facility, he took a quick glance through the pitiful sized window, only seeing nothing but darkness and pipes. Satisfied, Virgil pushed it open with a small grunt, aiming his Phalanx in front of him.
He waited a few quiet, tense seconds, in case something was waiting for him just inside the facility. He didn't want to take any chances, not on his first solo op. His eyes darted around to scan his surroundings as soon as he exited the cramped airlock.
Standing on what looked like the third floor, the expansive room seemed to make Virgil feel small and insignificant. Thousands of pipes snaked their way in and out of the walls around him, from what he could surmise, the liquid Helium-3 fuel was stored and processed in this metal vault. Reaching at least a hundred feet above his head, and twice as long, it was a massive piece of architecture. Sometimes he forgot how much the human race did to keep their way of life alive, so much subtle and intricate details and massive manpower to just keep a ship flying through space.
Feet clanking against the steel beneath his feet, Virgil made his way through the catwalk on his floor with his pistol near his hip. His muscles tensed at the complete silence, only hearing the sounds of escaping steam every few seconds. It was odd to have a expansive plant such as this to be so silent. There should be the sounds of machinery clamoring in the corridors, and shouting of men barking orders. While Virgil preferred the quiet over anything else, this deadly silence made his the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Nothing was coming to his ears. Not even the ghosts of automated machines performing their duties without their human masters.
It was too quiet.
Having made halfway into the facility, he made a mental note of where each corridor led, in case he needed to escape back to the airlock. An escape plan was his first priority, and having marked one of the walls with a small chip, he had done just that. The small chip quickly blinked a sage light, marking that corridor as his way out.
Continuing on his way, Virgil stopped dead in his tracks, observing and taking in the details of the scene before him.
Leaning up against the cold steel wall, a body of a woman was slumped over the body of a man twice her size. From what he could tell, Virgil noted the three dead center shots to their chests, making a mental note that whatever killed these two engineers had deadly precision. Edging closer to the bodies, he also took note of the plasma burns through their clothing, suggesting the shots had some distance on them when fired. Though he was cautious, he was no fool. 'Better safe than sorry' was the mantra he lived by, it was the very essence of the way he handled missions. And so far, it hadn't let him down.
Who killed them was still a mystery to him, but something broke his concentration, and the stillness in the air. From what he could tell, it sounded like weapon fire. Followed by the thunderous trademark boom of biotics.
The thought of him not being alone made his muscles bunch in anticipation. Taking one last glance at the two bodies, he quickened his pace into the dark corridors.
His priority to find other survivors, the dense adrenaline of knowing he was going to enter a firefight seeped into his veins. Replacing his Phalanx and looking down the scope of his Mantis, Virgil picked up two tall shapes in the dark. Far across the other side of the complex, near the entrance of the facility. High above on the fifth floor, from what he could tell, a biotic-wielding lone solider was fending off one other silhouette. Of what, he couldn't make out. Until he heard it.
Clicking. The chattering of mechanical blips in his visor. A solid screech echoing in his mic-bud against his ears.
“What the hell?” He muttered, tapping on the side of his helmet. Convinced it was nothing more than static, Virgil propped his bipod on the steel rails and aimed down range. He didn't know what the firefight was about, but he was going to get as much information as he could before even considering taking a shot. His job was to get in and get out, quietly. Helping this lone biotic was not his priority. Though he kept a quiet, hawk-like gaze, observing the shape disintegrate under the biotic warrior's fury.