Commander Shepard made the ultimate sacrifice to [red energy]DESTROY [/red energy] the Reapers. Eight years later, the survivors of the war seek to put the galaxy back together.
Once on the shuttle, Hestia shoves the old man into a seat and fastens his harness, then falls into her own seat at the sudden thrust skyward. When the geezer starts seizing, she shakes his arm (to no helpful affect).
"Gir, can you help him?"Oh, why didn't I study medicine, too?
She ignores the call for a report, bellowing "MEDIC!" in turn while trying to help Gir as best she can.
The transport touches down in the hangar, and the old man is teetering in and out of consciousness. Lt Vaws is there with a pair of officers you haven't seen before. "REPORT! is all she bellows in a tone that demands compliance.
Grace removes her helmet and snaps to attention, giving a crisp salute.
"We encountered multiple cybernetic-enhanced and synthetic hostiles on arrival, and eventually found a command center of some sort. We also found an old man who seems to have been holed up there for some time. Specialist Dern discovered several data packets, but some kind of self-destruct mechanism was triggered. We barely made it out in time, ma'am, and the old man needs medical treatment as soon as possible. I can give you and the captain a full debrief if need be."
She hesitates for a moment, then straightens her posture even further.
A look of genuine concern crosses the normally no-nonsense Vaws' face. "Get the shock jock in here," she bellows. Her eyes snap to Grace and she is once again professional. "I need answers, Sergeant. Captain is on the com with ZhuSec. Speak free and fast."
A look of genuine concern crosses the normally no-nonsense Vaws' face. "Get the shock jock in here," she bellows. Her eyes snap to Grace and she is once again professional. "I need answers, Sergeant. Captain is on the com with ZhuSec. Speak free and fast."
"There was something dead strange going on down there. We ran into a pack of varren that were just stuffed full of cybernetics. Only thing I've seen like that was back during the war. Ever see a Cerberus centurion with his helmet off? In any case, the old man definitely knows something. I have a feeling there's more to this than we were told in the original mission brief, and in the interest of keeping my team safe, I'd prefer to know more."
Grace stares at the deck for a second or two, then is once again all business.
"Report to the captain's ready room for debrief, ma'am, or return to quarters and wait for further instruction?"
A look of genuine concern crosses the normally no-nonsense Vaws' face. "Get the shock jock in here," she bellows. Her eyes snap to Grace and she is once again professional. "I need answers, Sergeant. Captain is on the com with ZhuSec. Speak free and fast."
"There was something dead strange going on down there. We ran into a pack of varren that were just stuffed full of cybernetics. Only thing I've seen like that was back during the war. Ever see a Cerberus centurion with his helmet off? In any case, the old man definitely knows something. I have a feeling there's more to this than we were told in the original mission brief, and in the interest of keeping my team safe, I'd prefer to know more."
Grace stares at the deck for a second or two, then is once again all business.
"Report to the captain's ready room for debrief, ma'am, or return to quarters and wait for further instruction?"
a fussy looking turian in a medical jacket hustles into the hangar and brushes past all of you tapping on his omnitool. It beeps concerningly and he lets out a string of curses you've never heard a turian utter before he in turn bellows for help moving this "shaved ape" into his office. A pair of young nurses tenderly pick the man up off the floor and get him on a gurney and he is run into medical, it seems.
Vaws watches the scene with concern in her one remaining eye before barking over her shoulder, "Debrief with the captain, then check on the old man, then lunch. Dismissed!
Hestia rocks back onto her heels and rises after the geezer is carted off. She sidles over to the Salarian while Grace and Captain Vaws are talking and nudges the former STS operative. "Hey, Dern, send that data to my omnitool, would you? I'd like a chance to analyze it, too. There was a lot that was familiar about that place." She opens a receiving channel.
"Of course," Dern says reflexively. He opens his omnitool and prepares to share the data. He hesitates for a moment, wondering what Hestia could need to analyze. Hestia may be up to something. If she is, he'd like to see how that plays out. He copies the data packet to her omnitool without further hesitation.
Vaws watches the scene with concern in her one remaining eye before barking over her shoulder, "Debrief with the captain, then check on the old man, then lunch. Dismissed!
Grace gives another crisp salute.
"Yes, ma'am."
Before following the lieutenant to the elevator, Grace turns to confer with her squad.
"Alright, then... We've got to debrief with the captain in five, and it would be best if there weren't any surprises. Specialist Dern, any way you could share what you found with the rest of us before we have to report upstairs? I know that I'm not exactly an expert in the field of high tech, but I'm sure I'll be able to follow along."
Grace offers a brief smile at the small group, though it seems a bit more strained than usual.
The data you uncover is one part bigoted screed/Cerberus propaganda/intentionally misconstrued points (depending on who you are talking to), and one part nightmare. Music is the key to everything, apparently- it is a universal language in a very literal sense. Cerberus had obtained theoretical information from an Alliance scientist who was apparently a prodigy in human/Rachni communications, that music can be used to communicate with thresher maws. But as it seems that the galaxy was about to fall to reapers, Cerebus scientists created an "Operetta comique" that if played in certain locations on certain worlds would awaken dormant thresher maws or even hasten the mental development of "Thresher Nymphs"- 'mere' Mako(and larger)- sized larvae that are not set to mature for centuries or even millenia. It is an insane, doomsday theory every sense. But it seems to have been disseminated through something called Operation: Tartarus...
Hestia rolls her eyes at the word "debrief", then sighs and slouches along at the back as the group heads off to meet the captain. She whines, "Why can't you debrief the Captain, Sarge? Why do we all have to go?"
As Dern talks, she ignores him and tries to review the data he loaded to her Omnitool for herself, nearly tripping up the stairs and running into walls at times as she focuses on the information, not her surroundings.
Hestia rolls her eyes at the word "debrief", then sighs and slouches along at the back as the group heads off to meet the captain. She whines, "Why can't you debrief the Captain, Sarge? Why do we all have to go?"
As Dern talks, she ignores him and tries to review the data he loaded to her Omnitool for herself, nearly tripping up the stairs and running into walls at times as she focuses on the information, not her surroundings.
[dice=Academics]4d3-8+1
Anything different from the spoiler above?
Spoiler:
You get a sinking feeling in your stomach, remembering the music classes you took...they seem less innocent in your mind, and loom much larger. This is end of days level nonsense on the face of it but the person who wrote this is clearly a believer...
"It is all rather preposterous, no?" Dern says dubiously, after having summarized the data. "Reaper indoctrination can make people believe all sorts of things."
Despite these statements of doubt, it is clear his curiosity is piqued.
Making their way to the bridge, the team comes upon a surreal scene.
On a vid screen larger than life is an incredibly old man and woman, weathered by experience as well as time, frowning down at Captain Arpin, who has his hands spread open in a conciliatory gesture.
"By the time we discovered the source of the signal, there was nothing we could do, other than leave. I am glad your...Thorians, is it? I'm glad they were able to escape safely too."
The man and woman speak almost in unison, which is eerie. "Do not mistake ZhuSec Thorians for some backwater militia. We have abilities far beyond what you know. No-one was injured in the disaster. But we will be watching for and sending escorts along with Relay Inspection Teams in the future."
Captain Arpin's smile never reaches his four eyes.
"That would be wonderful. Arpin out."
The captain deflates a bit as he ends the transmission, but snaps back to attention when he notices everyone. "Report!
The captain deflates a bit as he ends the transmission, but snaps back to attention when he notices everyone. "Report!
Grace snaps to attention and salutes.
"Achieved mission objectives, sir, at least to a point. Encountered multiple cybernetic and synthetic hostiles during investigation and extraction. At the heart of the facility, we discovered a command center of some kind, as well as a human occupant. Specialist Dern acquired a copy of the command center's data banks, but a self-destruct sequence was triggered in the process. The four of us, as well as the facility's occupant were able to make it back to the drop point with no casualties. In other words, sir, it could have gone better, but it could have been one hell of a lot worse. Specialist Dern can fill you in on the details of the contents of the database better than I can."
The captain deflates a bit as he ends the transmission, but snaps back to attention when he notices everyone. "Report!
Grace snaps to attention and salutes.
"Achieved mission objectives, sir, at least to a point. Encountered multiple cybernetic and synthetic hostiles during investigation and extraction. At the heart of the facility, we discovered a command center of some kind, as well as a human occupant. Specialist Dern acquired a copy of the command center's data banks, but a self-destruct sequence was triggered in the process. The four of us, as well as the facility's occupant were able to make it back to the drop point with no casualties. In other words, sir, it could have gone better, but it could have been one hell of a lot worse. Specialist Dern can fill you in on the details of the contents of the database better than I can."
(Sorry about the delay. Work got out of hand)
The Captain grunts as he digests the information.
"Let's see this data, Specialist."
Dern transfers the data to the Captain's terminal. "It appears from the data that Cerberus was undertaking some bizarre research. Perhaps it will be of interest to historians documenting the deterioration of Cerberus research into the depths of irrational desperation." He looks with some disdain upon the data on the console.
"OR some random wackos broke off from Cerberus and started doing rogue work once Cerberus funded their labs. It happened a lot towards the end of the war. Everyone thought they knew better and tried desperate measures. Jerks." Hestia mutters the last word under her breath.
"OR some random wackos broke off from Cerberus and started doing rogue work once Cerberus funded their labs. It happened a lot towards the end of the war. Everyone thought they knew better and tried desperate measures. Jerks." Hestia mutters the last word under her breath.
Grace gives Hestia an odd sidelong look, but says nothing.
Captain Arpin looks over the information with a frown. "Thresher Nymphs? Seems like real...sci-fart...stuff. Is that the term? But what really matters is that someone out there believes it's real, and is ready to destroy a building and it's occupants to keep their secrets. For now, rest up. Contact me via the lieutenant when you find the next place to check out. Dismissed."
Hestia sighs with relief and taps her Omnitool. "Yay, lunch! Looks like Lactarius assefa casserole on the menu - yum!" She starts to slouch off, ignoring (or forgetting) Vaws' directions to check on the old man.
Did the data reveal anything about any other locations?
"I believe we ought to check on our erstwhile Cerberus researcher first," Dern suggests as Hestia moves to leave. "Perhaps he will be more talkative now."
The medical facilities on The Dolphin are small- cramped even- but they are more than adequate. The thin old man looks mammoth on his gurney, but he is breathing comfortably. Even resting, there is a fervor in his demeanor. Say whatever you will about this man, he is a believer, and in his repose he is likely living his dream even now.
Standing muttering in a corner is a turian in medical gear, punching angrily into an omnitool. He grunts when you notice him, and says, "Doctor Metter. A pleasure. Working on him is, I mean. Do you know what Cerberus DID to this shaved ape?"
"Greetings, doctor," Dern says. "What did you find?" He is reluctant to guess what Cerberus did to the shaved ape.
The turian's eyes light up with anticipation.
Where to start? They have replaced his blood with nanites, and have removed one of each of his repetitive organs with a combination of housing for the nanites so THEY can self repair, distress beacon, and full wireless ewac suite! I disabled those last two, by the way. The tech is old but hearty...unlike our guest. There is no way to tell just how old he is, but he has surpassed his maximum life expectancy by quite a ways. I'm not sure how much longer he has, but it's a miracle he is even here at all.
Where to start? They have replaced his blood with nanites, and have removed one of each of his repetitive organs with a combination of housing for the nanites so THEY can self repair, distress beacon, and full wireless ewac suite! I disabled those last two, by the way. The tech is old but hearty...unlike our guest. There is no way to tell just how old he is, but he has surpassed his maximum life expectancy by quite a ways. I'm not sure how much longer he has, but it's a miracle he is even here at all.
An uncharacteristically hard look comes over Grace's face. Setting her jaw and settling into a parade rest, she addresses the doctor.
"Is there any chance, doctor, that you've already cross-referenced the man's cybernetics with the tech Cerberus used during the war to augment its soldiers? I wasn't privy to the information that the higher-ups were, but the way those troopers operated, it was almost like some kind of hive mind. Like I said, this isn't a sure thing, but I'd heard that Cerberus was implanting their soldiers with Reaper tech, and it makes a certain amount of sense."
Grace grits her teeth and takes a long, hard look at the deck below her feet before adding, "Back on Illium, they hit us hard on the skyway outside Aravis arcology. One of my squad shot the helmet off one of the grunts, and underneath, he barely looked human."
I would like very much to hear your professional opinion."
Where to start? They have replaced his blood with nanites, and have removed one of each of his repetitive organs with a combination of housing for the nanites so THEY can self repair, distress beacon, and full wireless ewac suite! I disabled those last two, by the way. The tech is old but hearty...unlike our guest. There is no way to tell just how old he is, but he has surpassed his maximum life expectancy by quite a ways. I'm not sure how much longer he has, but it's a miracle he is even here at all.
An uncharacteristically hard look comes over Grace's face. Setting her jaw and settling into a parade rest, she addresses the doctor.
"Is there any chance, doctor, that you've already cross-referenced the man's cybernetics with the tech Cerberus used during the war to augment its soldiers? I wasn't privy to the information that the higher-ups were, but the way those troopers operated, it was almost like some kind of hive mind. Like I said, this isn't a sure thing, but I'd heard that Cerberus was implanting their soldiers with Reaper tech, and it makes a certain amount of sense."
Grace grits her teeth and takes a long, hard look at the deck below her feet before adding, "Back on Illium, they hit us hard on the skyway outside Aravis arcology. One of my squad shot the helmet off one of the grunts, and underneath, he barely looked human."
I would like very much to hear your professional opinion."
YAY! CAMPAIGNS ARE LOADING AGAIN!
"Oh yeah, that was the first thing I did. This isn't so much Cerebus tech as it is Cerebus...well, retrotech. Same ideas, but positively ancient technology. Almost as if someone was trying to do reaper tech with sticks and stones. But this guy isn't a front line soldier. More like third string researcher. Where'd you find him again?
Was the doctor cleared to have information about our mission?
That is up to you to determine, or perhaps your commanding officer.
David M Mallon wrote:
Freehold DM wrote:
David M Mallon wrote:
Freehold DM wrote:
Zinnius Dern wrote:
Was the doctor cleared to have information about our mission?
That is up to you to determine, or perhaps your commanding officer.
Commanding officer-- meaning Grace, or meaning Capt. Arpin?
Grace.
I'm going to go ahead and say yes, given that the doctor could have potentially been asked to deal with anything from unexplained gunshot wounds to Cerberus nanotech.
"We found him in a hidden Cerberus facility. Cells of their operatives and researchers are scattered among the backwaters of the Milky Way. He was evidently both researcher and subject." Dern casts his large eyes wistfully upon the stricken man, his disapproval clear.
"It is important that we speak with him." Dern looks at the physician, his expression vaguely hopeful.
"Really? You think some old leftover dude from an antique former Cerberus outpost has information pertinent to today? He probably a Hiroo or something. Didn't look like he was going to last that long. We should let him die peacefully and move on. What, you worried some dude with implanted puppies is going to take over the galaxy?" Hestia rolls her eyes.
”He doesn’t need information pertinent to today. Yesterday will do just fine. Unless you’d rather I filed a report that a Cerberus operative was captured and that we decided not to question him because Miss Harper would rather spend her time surfing the extranet for videos featuring domesticated felines - or whatever it is you do with your spare time whilst ignoring Cerberus assets”
"Well, if you're gonna question the geezer, Dern, we had best get to it before his DNA spontaneously unravels. He could croak at any second. Onward! Excelsior!" Hestia marches off in the direction of the ancient dotard, arms raised as if bearing a flag.
"Got a flair for the dramatic, doesn't she? I remember watching some old drama from ages back, couple hundred years at least. Star something, and it was a sequel to some older thing. Anyway, they had this dirty great ship that had a whole holographic deck where they could do plays and s!$#e."
Giving a slight chuckle, she elbows the salarian lightly in his concave ribs.
"Bet the kid would be brilliant at that. Sounds like it could be fun, eh?"
Dern recoils from Grace’s jab as if she had actually assaulted him with her elbow. Rubbing the spot, and shrugging off the offense as some savage human gesture of affection, he responds, ”We may have different definitions of fun, Miss Wright. And I prefer my dramas to be broken up by the occasional patter song.”
Well, believe it or not, the old man is conscious. I dont think he actually sleeps so much as he shuts down and then reboots. He can talk whenever you are ready, but...go easy."
The taurian shows the first signs of genuine concern for his patient.
Very brief refresher: We found this guy alone in a bunker with a bunch of implanted varren and oddly-behaving mechs. The data downloaded from his gear showed Cerberus attempts to trigger thresher maws using music... one specific Operetta.
"Go easy, huh? I might not be the best at this job," Hestia says with a shrug, stepping back slightly.
It's uncertain if the statement is a declaration of poor aptitude for the work or weird pride.
Grace looks around at the others, slightly uncertain.
"I can try to keep him at ease, but I'm not quite up to speed on the tech. Maybe Dern should take the lead on the questioning, and we can back him up as needed?"
"Very well," Dern says. He approaches the ailing old man. "I do not doubt that the high probability of your impending demise is causing great distress, however we require information. We know you were working for Cerberus. What was your mission on Feros? What was Site Atlas working on?"
The Science Aliens finish their little conference, and Dern -- Dern? really? I thought Gir would be better at talking to the guy -- moves to the bedside to ask his questions. Hestia rolls her eyes.
"Geez, I coulda asked that. I expected technical stuff from those guys," Hestia says in a sotto voce aside to Grace as she slides across the wall and plops down into a visitor's chair. She sighs and closes her eyes, hands resting lightly on her thighs, reviewing the mission in her mind.
Musings:
So much here about music. Music to trigger thresher maw... what? Development? Why trigger the maws? Leave them to harass the Reapers? That makes no sense; threshers are strictly terrestrial. They might harass the Reapers on a planet, but not in space, could they?
Music was always part of their education and training at Cerberus, and she had loved it - listening, playing... it was her favorite time in the crammed-full training days. At first, Hestia had played for her, but had finally allowed her to play for herself, fingers awkward on the keys, gradually gaining proficiency. And when she had played both hands together for the first time, it was as if a nova had ignited in her brain, glorious and terrifying. It had frightened her for a week, until the instrument drew her back. She'd played as much as she could in those days, because... why? She'd never really thought about it before. It was quiet in her head when she played, because Hestia left her alone, letting her practice, honing her muscle memory, signals bypassing her brain and encoding in her spinal cord. Not in her brain. This much had been hers. Until Gir had found her in the bunker, nothing but silence in her head where Hestia had been.
Did I want that silence?
Gir found... not just me...
Hestia's eyes pop open. "Don't forget to ask about the varren farts. The environmental hazard you detected?" She nods at Gir, closes her eyes, and returns to her thoughts.
Musings part deux:
It had been so much easier to make music when Hestia had played through her, but it hadn't been hers then. Her body was Hestia's instrument at those times, just as the keyboard had been hers. She'd been... what was that crazy thing from old Earth?
Player piano.
She feels a little sick at the thought. It's the humans that were supposed to be superior, using the VI and AI to help, not carrying them around like some sort of beast of burden. She scowls, and her thoughts return to music, conjuring her favorite piece from among the works of the human race that had been stuffed into her and her classmates like they were some kind of...
foie gras goose?
Shut up, brain.
She lets the work run in her head, hearing the music as clearly as if it was being played in the room. She watches the shapes of the chords change, sees the deep violet of the unchorded lower notes, the silvery blue sprinkle of the little drifts of high notes dancing around the core chords like fireflies.
Hestia's fingers tap lightly on her thighs, not sequentially like in data keying, but in distinct patterns struck together, while the rest of her body relaxes into unusual stillness.
More musing:
Crisantemi rolls through Hestia's mind and soul, graceful and sad, drowning out discussion in the room until it tiptoes to its quiet, delicate conclusion. How could this be something sinister? How could it trigger thresher maws? And the old man knew another piece, Verdi instead of Puccini, about consumption and dying. Why would Cerberus fill us all with music...?
Were we supposed to be human thresher maws, somehow? For the... Reapers?
An old term from business classes pops into her mind, where it is extremely unwelcome. Poison pill.
She feels ill.
Hestia's eyes pop open shortly after her fingertips stop tapping on her thighs, and she ducks her head to the side away from Grace, wiping her cheek quickly on her shoulder. Rising, she slides up beside the older woman and whispers quietly so she doesn't disturb the questioning.
"Sarge? What did Von mean when he said the four of us would have been dead if Cerberus had succeeded? That doesn't make sense..."
The Science Aliens finish their little conference, and Dern -- Dern? really? I thought Gir would be better at talking to the guy -- moves to the bedside to ask his questions. Hestia rolls her eyes.
"Geez, I coulda asked that. I expected technical stuff from those guys," Hestia says in a sotto voce aside to Grace as she slides across the wall and plops down into a visitor's chair.
"Yeah, I would have thought that too," sighs Grace as she offers up an impressive Captain Picard impression, "but we've got to play with the cards we've been dealt..."
Hestia Harper wrote:
Hestia's eyes pop open shortly after her fingertips stop tapping on her thighs, and she ducks her head to the side away from Grace, wiping her cheek quickly on her shoulder. Rising, she slides up beside the older woman and whispers quietly so she doesn't disturb the questioning.
"Sarge? What did Von mean when he said the four of us would have been dead if Cerberus had succeeded? That doesn't make sense..."
"You know, I honestly don't know. Thought it might have had something to do with what happened at the Aravis skyway back during the war, but now I'm not sure."
Grace gives a small, exasperated sigh.
"I should probably go and smooth things over between Dern and our guest. But you've got a point, it doesn't make sense. Might be worth looking into, right?"
"Very well," Dern says. He approaches the ailing old man. "I do not doubt that the high probability of your impending demise is causing great distress, however we require information. We know you were working for Cerberus. What was your mission on Feros? What was Site Atlas working on?"
Grace moves in toward the pair, gently placing a hand on Dern's shoulder and looks down at the old man, her expression calm.
"What we mean to say is, the information you have might be a big help to us. And if there's anything we can do to help you, just let us know."
Leaning in to Dern, she speaks as quietly as possible, but keeps her tone light.
"Easy there killer, we don't want to be giving him any more heart attacks. Maybe see if we can't use what you know about the technology to get some answers out of him? I'll do my best to keep him calm."
Attempting to proactively [smooth over] the situation:
He begins with a sigh that seems to take everything out of him. He seems small and frail on the bed, and all are aware at just how old this man is, and how much he has seen, both within and without of Cerebus.
We are not swords. Not shields. We are MANpower. He glares at Zinnius and Gir, and all but the most obtuse catch the obvious bigotry there. Atlas...held up the world...the network. Redundancy experts, we had the backups of everything. It is... Up to the other titans now...titans of industry...*cough* Noveria, perhaps? Site: Phoebe... small...little more than an office....but it was the hearth...the money...keeps other sites going, but now...independent. Moving ahead with Tartarus. Buddha forgive me."
He feebly reaches for something on his neck, or tries to- he does little more than spasm. Gir points to something on his neck and although it is hard to tell with the mask, you think his eyes widen.
