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|Scott Cee
Apr 19, 12 at 1:13pm ^Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
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Due to the unprecedented scale of the Reaper invasion of the galaxy, the Council was all but forced to admit for Spectre candidacy members of those races that had hitherto been overlooked in favor of humans, salarians, asari and turians.
With the influx of refugees from the Terminus Systems into Council Space following the destruction of the batarian home world and the indoctrination of it ruling classes, the Cerberus takeover of Omega and the loss of many human colonies, individuals of various races, often possessing unique skill sets of potential use in the fight against the Reapers, have been admitted to the illustrious ranks of the Council Spectres. The hanar, ill-suited to direct conflict themselves and though often loathe to place their allies in danger, have submitted requests for drell, who are often trained as assassins from a young age, to be considered. Quarians opposed to the current course of action proposed by the Flotilla's Admiralty Board, or those exiled from the fleet for some misdemeanor, often possess skills suited to the dismantling and subversion of Reaper tech; skills that are understandably in high demand. Krogan with decades if not centuries of experience as mercenaries on the front lines of battle can add much needed backbone to Spectre units composed mainly of mission specialists.
Council Chambers, The Citadel, Widow Nebula
The Citadel Council was in session. Councilor Udina had the attention of the other three Councilors, speaking as always in his trademark bombastic fashion as he attempted to garner support for the Alliance in their fight against the Reaper forces that had assaulted the Sol System and Earth though the Arcturus Relay.
"By all accounts," he said, pacing up and down the Council Chambers, "Earth is the first of the Council home worlds to be attacked by the Reapers. You cannot stand idly by while millions of my people die at the hands of these abominations!"
"By your accounts, Udina," replied the turian Councilor, Sparatus with barely concealed contempt. "Would you have us leave our own worlds undefended while our fleets ride to your rescue? Our own intelligence reports that Reapers have already struck at the outlying colonies of the turian Empire, with much loss of life. As much as it pains me to admit it, the turian fleets are all but outclassed by the scale and size of the Reaper capital ships, and are pulling back in an attempt to delay the Reapers long enough to evacuate non-combatants from Palaven."
"Likewise, Thessia must look to its own defense," said Tevos, the asari Councilor. "I am afraid that such vessels as we could spare would not make a difference."
"And you," asked Udina, pausing in his constant pacing to direct the question at the remaining Councilor, Valern the salarian, who simply shook his head.
"It seems humanity will always be considered second-class citizens, even though it was a human who prevented the Reapers' first invasion attempt, defeated Sovereign, and saved the lives of this Council into the bargain."
"Ah, yes," said Sparatus drily. "The first human Spectre, the redoubtable Commander Shepard. The same Commander Shepard who was believed killed in action fighting the geth, but who was later reported to be working with Cerberus, the pro-human terrorist organization, in the Terminus Systems. Is it not odd that Shepard has not come forward to save humanity in its latest hour of need?"
"I don't have to take this from you," thundered Udina, turning on his heel and storming from the chambers. "If the Council will not offer its aid to my people, then the Council will not be able to count upon the aid of humanity once we have dealt with our own problems."
The door slid shut behind him.
Alliance Research Facility, Mars, Sol System
Dr Liara T'Soni stood before a computer terminal, reviewing data recovered from the prothean beacon unearthed from under the martian surface by human explorers early in the twenty-second century. Though the Alliance had known about the trove of data within the beacon for the last thirty years, they had managed to decipher only the smallest fraction of the information stored within. From it they had unlocked the secrets of element zero, faster-than-light travel and the location of the Sol System's mass relay.
And now, with the Reapers besieging Earth, the quest to uncover the protheans' remaining secrets was tinged with an equal measure of hope and desperation.
It had taken more than a century for the Reapers to completely eradicate the protheans during their cycle 50,000 years previously, Dr T'Soni knew, and the protheans had been a united culture whose territory covered a much greater portion of the galaxy than its current inhabitants. Divided as they were, it would take much less time for the Reapers to eliminate all sentient races currently in the Milky Way.
Behind layers of reinforced glass, mass effect fields and deflector shields, the beacon glowed with an eerie green light. Though she had studied the artifacts left behind by the protheans for more than fifty years, Dr T'Soni still felt the thrill of new discovery every time she laid eyes upon the thing.
What secrets might it still hold, she wondered, calling up a schematic on her display. It showed a device, massive in scale and yet deceptively elegant in its simplicity, that the protheans had called the Crucible.
Behind her, the blue-tinted hologram of a human male in late middle-age, a prominent scar on the right side of his face, flickered and danced due to interference and distance. Quantum entanglement communication, even without the bandwidth problems of the extranet, was not perfect.
"Admiral Hackett," said T'Soni, turning from her console to address the man, "I believe this device, which the protheans called the Crucible, may hold the secret to defeating the Reapers and saving all sentient life in the galaxy. To even consider building such a thing is a massive undertaking, but right now I believe that it is the only chance we have of surviving the Reaper invasion."
"Dr T'Soni, Councilor Udina informs me that the other Councilors have turned down his request to send aid to Earth," replied Hackett. "There is no way we can protect Earth and ensure the safety of the technicians, work crews and cargo vessels needed to build it. The situation is dire; remnants of the Alliance fleets are stationed in orbit around Earth, holding off the Reaper vessels as best they can while ground forces engage targets on the surface. It's obvious this is a war we cannot win through conventional means, and if that means diverting resources to construct this Crucible -"
The hologram winked out as a rumble shook the research station. Lights flickered and died, replaced by red emergency lighting. A warning alarm begin blaring and was silenced as suddenly as it had started.
There was a burst of static over the emergency address, followed by a panicked cry of "Cerberus troops have entered the base! Cerberus troops have en -" cut off by the sound of gunfire.
Human Embassy, Citadel, Widow Nebula
Councilor Udina sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and staring blankly at the VI interface he used to keep track of all the birthdays, anniversaries and various other special occasions he was obliged to remember as part of his duties to the Alliance.
Most, if not all, of those people were now dead, killed when the Reapers attacked Arcturus Station on their way to Earth. Amul Shastri, Prime Minister of the Systems Alliance, had been one of them, effectively leaving control of all extra-solar human colonies in Udina's hands. He was now the most powerful human being in all of recorded history.
But all that power would be for nothing.
A vast armada of immeasurably powerful machine intelligences was even now laying siege to Earth, and soon to Palaven, Thessia, Sur'Kesh and eventually the Citadel. There would be no hiding from them, no escaping their wrath. No hope of victory.
He called up the last transmission from Admiral Hackett. It was text only, and Udina had found only the time to quickly scan its contents before meeting with the other Councilors. Now he relished the opportunity to take his mind off his situation, and the situation of every human being in the galaxy, if even for a few minutes.
He thumped forward in his chair, fumbling for the intercom on his desk.
"Saphyria," he demanded, thumbing the button.
"Yes, Councilor," came the reply from Udina's asari assistant. She had once been part of the embassies' administrative staff, but since humanity's ascension to a position on the Council she had been promoted to assist the human Councilor. She was not sure if this was a good thing, given Udina's attitude towards non-humans, though the extra credits certainly came in handy.
"How many Spectres are on the Citadel right now?"
"I don't know, Councilor."
"Find out. And get me a list and profiles of all Spectres and Spectre candidates currently on the station and cleared for action as soon as possible."
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|Scott Cee
Apr 30, 12 at 12:33pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Two salarians stood in companionable silence as their elevator made its way from the docking bay. Major Kirrahe, the older of the two, mottled green skin shading to gray at the base of the twin horns protruding from the top of his head, and Captain Rentola, a few years younger and rust red in colouration, comrades in arms and firm friends both.
They and their STG task-force had assisted Commander Shepard in the attack on the rogue Spectre Saren's cloning facility on Virmire several years previously, and both felt that they owed the human Commander their lives, which was part of the reason Kirrahe had consented to answer the summons of human Councilor Udina. The other part, which neither had discussed openly, was that as high-ranking members of the salarian Special Tasks Group, they had been privy to some troubling information.
Cerberus, the human splinter group or terrorist organization - even STG records were unclear on this point, had attacked an Alliance facility on Mars. The facility where the Prothean beacon that had enabled humanity to take its place amongst the other Council races was located. And that this beacon, intercepted communications revealed, might hold the key to ultimately defeating the Reapers.
It was imperative that Cerberus not be allowed to capture the beacon, for whatever they learned from it would not be used to benefit any of the other races, in direct contravention of one of the Council's oldest laws. Humanity, and not just Cerberus, would face the harshest possible sanctions, if anyone survived the ongoing... situation.
That, and all but the most militant pro-humanity individuals did not have the greatest trust in Cerberus or their methods.
The elevator arrived and the doors hissed open. Kirrahe and Rentola stepped out and into a scene of confusion. The administrative staff of the human embassy, assisted by a line of uniformed C-Sec officers, were attempting to stop a flood of worried, anxious or downright panicked people from rushing past the long desk that ran down one side of the large room and gaining access to the office of the human ambassador.
One of the security men detached himself from the line and approached the salarians, using his elbows to push and barge through the crowd. He was blond, his hair shaved at the sides of his head in a vaguely military fashion, and his face was lined with age and stress. He came to attention before the salarians and saluted before introducing himself.
"Commander Bailey, C-Sec," he said. "You would be Major Kirrahe and Captain Rentola? This way, please. The Councilor will see you now."
Bailey led them through the crowd with the same forthrightness he had used as he approached them, through the cordon of C-Sec officers, along a short corridor and to the office of the human ambassador.
"I didn't think it would be as bad as this, Commander," said Kirrahe.
"It'll be like this everywhere soon enough," commented Rentola pessimistically.
"What's happening on Earth is really only beginning to hit home," explained Bailey, shaking his head. "Reports are that the Reapers are... processing almost two million people a day. They set up their damned indoctrination camps, and the people there are like lambs to the slaughter, they just... line up and, and... march to their deaths."
"You have family on Earth, Commander," asked Kirrahe.
"A son, and a wife that I lost touch with some years ago."
"I'm sure you'll see them again before long, Commander."
"I wouldn't count on it," said Rentola.
Bailey just tightened the muscles of his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "The Councilor is waiting."
Councilor Donnel Udina sat behind the desk in the ambassador's office, PDAs, clipboards and sheets of paper spread across the surface before him. He was scowling, but his face lightened, though only slightly, as he noticed the two salarians enter the room.
He stood and shook hands with each of them before returning to his seat, nodding that Kirrahe and Rentola should also be seated.
He cleared his throat nervously. Asking aliens for assistance obviously did not sit well with the man.
"Gentlemen," he said, leaning his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers before him. "The situation is dire, otherwise I would not consider going behind the Council's back and directly asking the salarian Union for its assistance."
Kirrahe blinked slowly, surprised at the Councilor's honesty.
"We need your help," Udina continued, "with a situation on Mars in the Sol System. We, that is Admiral Hackett and myself, believe that Cerberus has taken advantage of the Reaper situation to mount an attack on an Alliance facility in an attempt to either access or destroy the Prothean beacon being studied there. Also, one of the the galaxy's foremost experts on the Protheans was present, a Doctor Liara T'Soni, and it is imperative that she be recovered unharmed. Together, she and the beaon could hold the key to winning this war."
"First of all, Councilor, and with the greatest of respect," said Kirrahe, "You have not gained the assistance of the Union. It is only because of the great personal debt that the Captain and I owe Commander Shepard that we have agreed to this meeting. And secondly, we represent only the smallest fraction of the Union. Privately, not all of the STG are entirely comfortable with the decisions made by Dalatrass Linron or the Council recently. We can offer you only one ship, my ship – the Gorot, and its crew. Officially, neither I, Captain Rentola nor my task-force are involved in any of this."
"We are, in fact, not on the Citadel, Councilor. The Gorot is not fueled, ready and waiting at docking bay E-31. We are not ready to offer you whatever aid we can provide, were we even able," said Rentola, enjoying himself.
"In that case," said Udina, leaning back in his chair, "a number of individuals will not be joining you within the hour. They will not be going to Mars, and they will not be attempting to recover Dr T'Soni or the schematics of a device not referred to as the Crucible."
"It is good not doing business with you, Councilor," said Kirrahe, standing up.
When the salarians had left his office, Udina allowed himself a weary sigh.
He thumbed his intercom again. "Saphyria, what's the status on those profiles I asked for?"
"Sending them through to you now, Councilor."
"Don't bother. Message them directly, all of them, send them the details of the mission and ask them to meet the Gorot at docking bay E-31." He clicked off the communication and added, privately, "I hope they turn up."
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Apr 30, 12 at 3:31pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Citadel Embassies - Drell Ambassador
"Xenophon it says in this report you are guilty of desecrating a religious symbol by using it as a projectile, using over excessive violence in carrying out your duty, forcefully ingesting an illegal substance into a drug dealer's mouth, using an ally as a projectile, beating the hostage you were sent to rescue unconscious, using said unconscious hostage as a projectile, setting a building on fire, damaging a civilian vehicle, damaging a military vehicle, and finally using the wreckage of a military vehicle as a projectile in a populated area. Is that correct?"
The Drell Xenophon sat calmly in the office of his superiors, a dry smile on his face. "That sounds mostly true, I would like to point out that the 'hostage' was a willing deserter and thus my actions regarding him should be treated as such."
The older Drell, with no touch of humor in his face, gave him a long stare before speaking. "Be that as it may Xenophon, you were given a simple retrieval mission. At no point were you given orders to take out the dealers nor were you to be responsible for disposal of the drugs."
"Ah, but I was never ordered not to. When my partner and I found the target accompanied by the criminals the opportunity to stop them was too good to pass up."
"That was not your call to make."
"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one sir. Once we secured the hostage they would have been tipped off that we were on to them and gone underground. That was unacceptable so I made their capture a 2nd priority. We both know that making these kind of decisions are not uncommon for an agent to make and do not carry any punishments. I see no reason why my case is any different."
Perhaps if the Drell ambassador was younger he would have hung his mouth open, or done a double take. Instead he let out a short soft growl that would have spoken volumes if Xenophon was the type of person to respond to that kind of thing. "Most agents would have the wherewithal not to simply blindly attack the enemy with no concern for the consequences. Your actions bordered on the ridiculous and idiotic Xenophon; if it weren't for the hesitant recommendations from your superiors back home we wouldn't even be having this discussion. You were sent to the citadel in the hopes that a more active career would curb your showy outbursts, but if anything you've grown worse."
"I'll admit that things got out of hand, but the 'hostage' certainly didn't help things by attacking me."
"It matters little Xenophon, it is for this reason, and so many others, that I must now do something that many among our military have wanted to do for a long time. You are to no longer be an agent."
For once the almost carefree Xenophon showed genuine emotion on his face. "Sir, I have been an agent ever since I was able to enlist. This is all I've ever wanted to do! If this is about that thing with Belen, I had no choice. The Turian was pulling his gun; there was no time for Belen to dodge so I helped him out. I just figured since I was already throwing him I'd take out the enemy too. I'll make an official apology if necessary."
"Xenophon despite your attempts to convince me otherwise I have made up my mind." The ambassador handed him a sealed envelope. "These are your final orders. Now if you don't mind I have other business to attend to."
He wanted to yell, to argue against this, to lash out, but he knew that he had been pushing his superior's buttons for a while now. This was a long time coming. It didn't stop his anger though, rather than waiting for the automated door to open he ripped it open with biotics and stormed off. He was headed for Purgatory. Back inside the ambassador simply smiled. It was about time he got to annoy Xenophon for a change.
Not even halfway to the elevator from the embassies someone contacted Xenophon on his Omni-tool. He ignored it at first, but it remained persistent. "Hello?"
"Agent Xenophon, my name is Saphyria, I represent Councilor Udina. I'm calling to inform you that your new assignment is going to start sooner than anticipated."
"What are you talking about?"
"I apologize. I was under the impression you had already been notified about your upgraded status."
Xenophon looked to the envelope in his hand. He opened it and started to read the letter inside. "Oh that bastard!"
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing Miss. So you're calling to inform me about a mission?"
Xenophon entered bay E-31 quietly, planning out the various methods of revenge he would enact against the ambassador.
False hope leads to true despair, watch how quickly white turns to black.
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Apr 30, 12 at 4:51pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
The lower wards.
Normally, people on the Citadel can't seem to spot all the things wrong with their livings. They just live in peaceful ignorance of the crimes that might be going on at the bases of their lavish towers and skylines. Everywhere in the galaxy, on every station known to galactic society, there was always something going on that the authorities had to take a step up to.
No one fought these problems themselves. They left it up to the armed men in uniforms, the sect of security that everyone thinks cane take care of any problem that goes public, be it thefts or murders or all-out riots.
Draith didn't understand. Races like humans and turians… united, yet each independent at the same time. Nothing tribal to it at all. No public displays of dominance like the old krogan clan leaders on Tuchanka. No way to be sure who was the best. Who to challenge and who to follow.
This is why Draith preferred the lower wards. This was where the little wars were happening.
The krogan strode solemnly through the red-lit alleys of the Citadel's bowls. No, he was not on a dangerous mission. He was not carrying any illegal items. He hadn't even killed anyone in the last several hours, which was unsettling to him. He was on the Citadel for no reason whatsoever then to find something to do. He just hoped that something would mean beating someone shitless with his biotics.
And he wanted it to happen naturally. That was the best part… when fights found you, not the other way around.
People who eyed Draith as he passed made note of his appearance and equipment. He carried an M-76 Revenant and an M-300 Claymore on his back; two dangerous weapons not so easily handled by smaller races. The armor he was wearing was a sleek black with glowing and pulsating crimson lights and tubes running here and there. Symbols and codes were imprinted in white on numerous spots. There was a Blood Pack symbol on his left shoulder plate, even. You could easily mistake him for the leader of some mighty army if this were a battlefield. His dark crimson head crest and deep red eyes stood out amongst his scar-riddled face.
This krogan's appearance sent everyone a simple message; the last thing you would ever want to do is have to fight him.
Some people never got that message, though.
Draith proceeded around the corner to his right. As he did, a turian walking in the opposite direction bumped into his shoulder. Neither of the two saw it coming, so it would make sense for them to just leave it and go. Draith certainly would. He was krogan, yes… but this turian was not some great warrior or decorated soldier. He was a lowly scamp in a maze of bigger enemies. Not worth the time.
The turian didn't think the same, however.
"Hey!" He said, turning to face the krogan. Draith didn't stop, nor did he say anything back. The turian called out again, "Hey! Krogan!" Draith still walked forward, not bothering at all. The turian then proceeded to reach for his pistol, which was rather poorly concealed. He aimed at the krogan and muttered, "Bastard…" He fired. The other people walking through the corridor quickly reacted and cleared the area, not all too surprised that another fight was about to break out. The projectile instantly connected with Draith's armor, dissipating with a few yellow sparks and literally no visible damage.
Draith, however, had finally stopped walking.
The krogan slowly turned around and began walking towards the turian, who in turn fired his pistol three times more. All three projectiles bounced off of Draith's armor and head crest. The krogan walked right up to the turian, staring down at him. The turian raised his pistol, but the krogan grabbed it from his hand and slowly began crushing it between his fingers.
Draith dropped the broken pistol near the turian's feet. The turian looked down at his destroyed weapon and then back up at the krogan.
"Leave." Draith said in an aged but menacing voice.
He slowly began to back away, but then he changed his mind and proceeded to do the worst thing possible.
He threw a punch.
Draith didn't flinch. Not at all. The turian threw two more punches at the krogan's face before he finally began to panic. He turned and began to run, but Draith wouldn't allow him to leave so easily.
Biotic energy began to surround the krogan as he raised his arm and quickly swiped it to the side. In nary a second, the turian was lifted off the floor and slammed against the wall to his right. A loud crack rang through the halls. People approached the turian, who was holding his abdomen in pain, groaning terribly. Draith simply watched as the turian writhed in pain as two people came to his aid, which was a little surprising. He kept staring until he heard a quiet beep. He looked down at his omni-tool, noticing he'd been sent a message. Most krogan never found any use for such devices, but Draith had acquired his a long time ago. It was marginally useful, if only for messaging and checking extranet news.
Draith began reading the message he'd been sent. And slowly but surely, a wry smile began to etch itself across his face. He looked at the turian once more before turning and heading through the nearest doorway.
Now, he had a directive, as well as destination.
Bay E-31.
It wasn't long, but it wasn't a quick walk either. But Draith got there. The elevator opened up as he slowly stepped forward, noticing the ship already docked nearby. The Gorot... a salarian vessel. Draith didn't like what was going on, but whatever it was, maybe it would end with some violence.
He walked further forward. And then he noticed the drell.
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|Kushluk Shimazu
Apr 30, 12 at 7:14pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
The weightlessness of space was still an odd sensation to Lieutenant Raynor, even after his N5 training. But at least he had a nice view to admire as he floated in space as part of his refresher lesson in space combat.
"Man, the Citadel actually looks peaceful from here."
He never got used to looking at the five arms of the Citadel floating in the purple Serpent Nebula. It was truly one of the galaxy's sites to behold, even if a tad unnerving. Especially since Lieutenant Gerald Von Raynor hated nebulas. Every since he was a kid he had a fear that monsters lurked within them, awaiting for those foolish enough to wander into their mists and eat them alive.
A chime in his headset brought Gerald back into reality with a female voice speaking to him, "Well don't enjoy the view for long Lieutenant, we are bringing you back down to the hull. Take it easy out there, we do not want you to hurt yourself Sir." He felt the pull of the chord that kept him from flying away from the Alliance training cruiser SSV Virginia that orbited the Citadel.
It took some restraint from Gerald not to be annoyed at Specialist Burns. She was only doing her job in making sure he was one hundred percent combat efficient after his ordeal two years ago.
Nevertheless the lieutenant retorted back to Specialist Burns through the mike, "Yes Mom. Can I get off the training wheels now?" You'd think after two years people would quit asking if he was okay, it got old real quick.
After a few moments of silence the Specialist responded, "Magnetizing boots, releasing harness, running firing exercise Zeta one-eight-nine. You are free to engage Lieutenant." She finished with more of a short tone then Gerald expected, but it wasn't his fault if he rustled a few feathers. The human soldier was not an old man yet, and he'll be damned if some tech said otherwise.
As Gerald was pulled down from the view of the Citadel the Specialist then continued, "With all due respect Sir, one day you are going to mouth off to the wrong person."
With a chuckle Lieutenant Raynor replied, "Well the Alliance didn't keep me in for my manners Specialist, no offense meant though. I'm just ready to get this over and done with."
"Apology accepted Sir, have fun out there."
He shook his head in mock annoyance, "I didn't say I was sorry … You are crazy in the head aren't you?"
"Don't you have a course to run?"
"Yeah yeah, soon as my boots hit the deck."
Gerald's boots finally magnetized onto the hull of the Virginia. Pulling out his M-96 Mattock Heavy Rifle Gerald then watched as the deck of the ship before him become cluttered with obstacles and cover. He didn't waste any time, moving his feet as quick as he safely could through space, watching the forming platforms where his opposition would surface in a few seconds.
This must have been an advanced firing exercise as the automated turrets actually sprung out before he could get to cover. Shouldering his Mattock, Gerald hastily placed five rounds on the closest turret, sending the turret sparking out of existence. Before he ducked into cover he fired off his concussive shot on another turret, and then peeking out the side to finish it off.
As he reloaded his Mattock with a fresh thermal clip however, his headset chimed in again with the annoying beep. As the channel opened up Gerald lost it, "Damnit Specialst Burns! I'm in the middle of a bloody exercise! Go Grab a damned coffee for all I care I'll come back in myself when I'm good and done!"
A new voice though chimed in, "Huh, I wonder if that is how you treat all your commanding officers Lieutenant Raynor. When you are done up there come to my office." The mike then cut off abruptly.
Gerald just sat there behind cover; stunned at the fact that he had just cussed out his CO. Finally after a few moments the realization of what he just did hit him, "Damn it! Well great, just great." He mumbled.
Specialist Burns then came back on, "You know, I did tell you that you would piss off the wrong guy Lieutenant."
With a disgruntled sigh Gerald then said sharply, "Shut up, you are not helping."
"Was I supposed to? Have fun with the Captain Sir." She then cut the channel.
Gerald then watched as the cover he was behind meld into the deck of the Virginia, a remarkable display of training technology. But Gerald Von Rayner was not in the mood anymore to look at it or the Citadel as he walked toward the Virginia's airlock.
It was in the captain's quarters that Gerald was made aware of the attack on Earth by the Reapers. And there that Ambassador Udina's message came through to him. Thankfully Captain Raynald wasn't one for ceremonies and quickly gave the transfer of command.
The captain then gave the shaken Gerald a brief reminder of customs and courtesies around alien cultures before dismissing him. They shook hands and Gerald saluted his former CO, with the Lieutenant wishing he got to know the gray haired man better. But wishes were going to be very much in supply in the coming days.
Trying to clear his mind Gerald occupied himself with his task. He was authorized the rest of his gear at the Alliance armory on the ship. Before that though Gerald stopped by his quarters to gather his personal affects, which thankfully didn't go beyond one duffel bag. Afterwards he then made his way to the shuttle bay of the SSV Virginia.
However while sitting on the shuttle en route to the Citadel his thoughts betrayed him, as Gerald began to question the dreaded "What ifs." The shuttle ride was uneventful and he was dropped off not far from his destination on the Citadel.
Bay E-31.
With his demolitions pack adjusted and his duffel bag carried in his right arm Lieutenant Raynor then began to read his orders to clear his mind. As the Lieutenant marched however he footsteps gradually became slowed as he fully comprehended what his orders were.
Inside his mind Gerald did a double take, he had to confirm this.
The Lieutenant then stopped off at a quiet corner and used a public terminal to contact the human embassy, "Hello? My name is Lieutenant Raynor. I'd like to speak with Ambassador Udina." He said into the terminal, not expecting an answer, which was the status quo of the human ambassador.
That very reason was why Gerald was surprised when the display then shaped into an asari's young blue face, "Hello Lieutenant Raynor, I'm Saphyria, Ambassador Udina's secretary. Unfortunately Ambassador Udina is busy at the moment but I will answer your questions as best as I can." She said in a pleasant and welcoming tone.
With a smile Gerald then asked, "Well hopefully you can help me out, I got this message from Ambassador Udina's office and I wanted to speak with him about it."
With a coy smile Saphyria responded, "Well if you got a message I suggest you follow the contents of it, without delay." She said with a hint of urgency at the last bit of her sentence.
Catching the hint Gerald merely smiled, "Well thank you Saphyria. I'd best be off then."
Saphyria merely bowed her head a bit, "Be safe Lieutenant." The feed then cut off.
As Gerald resumed his march towards the docking bay he couldn't help but think to himself, "I can't believe it. It's actually happening. Earth … Shit." So many thoughts of the center of humanity burning flew through his mind Gerald actually felt his blood began to boil.
He then stopped himself, "No, Not now. All right, lets use the anger fuel you to kill these damned things. You've done it before, so do it again."
And thus as before in the Skyllian Blitz when he found Rebecca's broken body, Lieutenant Raynor then shut himself off from the rest of the world around him and focused on that one image. The thought alone made him fell empowered and more importantly in control.
With a cool and measured stride the lieutenant thus entered bay E-31. Seeing the Drell and Krogan already there the human soldier merely walked to a clear part of the bay and laid out his equipment to coldly and methodically examine each piece of gear he had. From his weapons to his explosives Gerald went over every inch of his equipment.
These… Reapers were soon going to see what human vengeance felt like, if the Reapers felt at all. Not that it mattered to Gerald, for Reapers, Geth, and the demons of hell itself wouldn't satisfy him until he avenged every human death with ten of those bastards. Even if Gerald had to become a monster himself, then the Reapers would know a monster unlike any they have seen before.
EDIT: I added this to get a conversation going between characters. Enjoy comrades!
Gerald was finally satisfied that his gear was in working order after his fifth look over.
The M-96 Mattock Heavy Rifle was cleaned, the N7 Crusader Shotgun was good to go, and his M-5 Phalanx Heavy Pistol checked out. Grenades and explosives where accounted for and the Cyro, Disruptor, and Incendiary augments worked perfectly. His Securitel Helmet and small HUD like monitor worked fine and his N7 armor set was fit for duty.
First Lieutenant Raynor packed up all of his equipment as he had done so mant times before. Once it was gathered and carefully placed next to the wall of the hangar Gerald then glanced around at the other two occupants.
The Drell was practicing a few martial arts and biotic moves. Every movement to Gerald seemed controlled and deadly, giving credence to the texts he had read of Drell being natural assassins for their Hanar allies. Actually Gerald hadn't met any Drell himself, merely read about them in historical texts. What stuck out to him was the Drell homeworld becoming unlivable due to toxic radiation from too much industry, and the Hanar saving a portion of them when things got bad.
"Well, I don't see me having an uncivil talk with him at least. Now ... that Krogan however..." Gerald thought to himself as he gazed over to the other end of the bay.
The black armored Krogan stood as a proud pinnacle of his species towering and intimidating prowess, and Gerald could safely assume that this Krogan did not dress up for show. The Krogan leaned with his arms crossed against the wall of the hanger. The Krogan's eyes seemingly observing everything with what Gerald assumed was a uninterested look on his scarred red face.
Lieutenant Raynor's readings on the Krogan where shaky at best, but he did know that the Krogan where uplifted by the Salarians to fight the highly advanced insect race called the Rachni. Apparently the Krogan could survive on the toxic homeworlds of the Rachni Queens and basically exterminated the rachni. After the Rachni Wars though, the Krogan expanded too quickly for the rest of the universe to compensate and this led to the Krogan Rebellion. The Salarians thus developed the genophage to make about one in a thousand births sterile, thus stopping the Krogan numbers. Afterwards the genophage made the Krogan descend into tribal clans on their homeworld and mercenaries elsewhere.
All in all, not exactly a race that had many friends nor cared for them. But Gerald knew he had to break the ice and introduce himself to these two if they where on the same mission as him. Some groundwork had to be made, thus Gerald sighed as he began to walk toward the Krogan.
"May as well get the rougher of the pair out of the way first. I hope this doesn't end with too much blood, unless the readings on the Krogan where exaggerated."
The Krogan shifted his red eyes to watch Gerald approach, marking the human as the one thing his full attention was on. He heard behind him the Drell stop his exercises; Gerald assumed he was watching him now, which he didn't blame the Drell. If this went bad then he go a free show.
Gerald stopped a respectable distance from the Krogan and greeted the Krogan, "So I assume you got the same message as us?"
"…" A silent stare was all Gerald was given as an answer
In his head Gerald sighed, "Alright, so he is going to be a hard-ass, well I can play that game… I hope."
Gerald then came a bit closer and leaned against the wall not but five feet from the massive Krogan. He had to show he wasn't afraid of the guy, and maybe he only respectedHe put on a curious look and asked, "Tell me, why are you here to help stop the Reapers? What reason would a Krogan have to care about helping out the other races of the galaxy?"
The Krogan finally answered, albeit in a gruff tone, "I have my own reasons human."
Well here we go, with the bold, be bold…
"I can respect that, but I would rather know who I am fighting beside. Unless you are to afraid to answer." Gerald said with his best poker face.
Almost as Gerald finished the sentence the Krogan stood up and got REAL close to Gerald, leaning in to look intently into his baby blue eyes with his blood red eyes. The Krogan probably never heard of the concept of personal space, but hell Gerald just did what he could to keep his discipline. Gerald likewise got off the wall and stood his ground as the Krogan sized him up, studying the human that dared to say such a thing to it's face.
Then the Krogan drew his head back and slammed it forward, slamming Gerald in the face with a full blow, catching the stunned human soldier off guard.
It felt as if a freight train just collided with his face, the blow almost sending the human Lieutenant off his feet.His world swirled and blurred like he had taken one too many Horizon Twisters on leave, expect this shot hurt like hell without the benefits of him being wasted.
Gerald couldn't help but let off an explosive,"GAHHH!!" as the pain coursed through him. With his left hand Gerald covered his already bleeding face while his right hand braced the wall for some much needed support.
For a few seconds of immense pain Gerald just controlled his breathing and felt his wet sticky blood run over his hand. Finally with what seemed like ages Gerald then forced himself to stand again.
He couldn't see well out of his left eye for the moment but he could make out the Krogan still standing there as if nothing had happened.
The Krogan then said in a gruff tone, "You're still alive. So you're not just some whelp. Good."
Still pissed off Gerald then replied in cold anger, "So what the hell was the point of hitting me anyways? That how you say hello or what?"
The Krogan merely leaned against the wall with a bemused look, "The fact you are still standing means you are made of sterner stuff than your brethren. So I'll tell you my name First Lieutenant Raynor. It's Draith, maybe if you live long enough you'll know more."
Gritting his teeth Gerald forcefully tried to relax himself, cooling the burning anger he had to pounce on the Krogan. He had to be a diplomat here, because if this Krogan could do THIS to him, he couldn't imagine the pain he would bring to the Reapers.
After a few deep breaths Gerald then went on in a controlled voice, "You still didn't answer my question Draith."
A soft chuckle came from the black armored Krogan, "To answer your question Lieutenant Raynor, let's just say I've lived longer than your species has been in space. I'll do my part, and if we should ever come to odds I'll give you the decency of not shooting you in the back."
Gerald just stood there for a moment staring at the Krogan, and then with a shaking head and even more shaken body turned and walked away from Draith. The shaken human made his way towards his equipment to treat the now broken nose and anything else that needed mending on his face.
As Gerald sat down against the wall and got out his medical equipment a new voice spoke, a bit of a shallow voice but with a hint of humor, "I'd say that went well." Gerald looked up to see the Drell standing over him, looking down on him with a bemused look.
With a sigh Gerald then continued rummaging through his bag while saying, "I hope you don't have a similar greeting planned? I don't know how many of those hello's I can take in one day."
Only the dead have seen the end of war - Plato
Every conflict has a peace at the end, every peace has a war coming - Kush
When the first bullet goes by your head, politics and all that other shit goes right out the window - Hoot
|quote quick quote
May 2, 12 at 11:17pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
"Well, well," remarked Vegrull Tyzuris, the turian manager and sole employee of a small shop helpfully called Tyzuris Trades, before his customer had even reached the counter. His tone was one of knowing, sardonic amusement, suggesting he knew the situation - and the customer - well enough to know what would play out. "Not even a week into shore leave and you've already run yourself out. You're a consistent woman, Sullivan."
The customer in question, one Captain Cassandra Sullivan, shot the shopkeeper an unamused glare as she came face to face with him across the counter, tossing an emptied pack of cigarettes onto the glass.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, although it was quite clearly good-natured. "I don't recall paying you to lecture me on my habits, Tyzuris. Just set me back up." The turian in question simply laughed under his breath, nonetheless rifling about under the counter to fill her request.
"Not that I'm complaining," he went on as he dug out the necessary cigarettes. "Even if all my other customers were out of the picture, I'd probably be able to keep my entire setup going on your business alone." He laid two packs out on the counter. "I take it vacationing is going well." The Captain shot the elder turian a wry smile over the counter, producing the amount due from her money.
"One might say that," she affirmed, passing him the credits and summarily stashing one of the packs in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. Unabashedly, as Tyzuris took note with a barely-perceptible turian smile of his own, she kept the other pack ready at hand. "If anything, it's a load off my shoulders to get away from the bloody avalanche of new reports the brass have dropped on me since they decided to take me in."
"Ah, yes," Tyzuris concurred, the dry smile on his face widening knowingly. "It's good you're enjoying it, then. Best to make the most of self-enjoyment while you have it. Before it gets worse." For the second time that visit, Cassandra shot Tyzuris an unamused glare, pulling the pack open with her free hand.
"And thank you so much for reminding me," she muttered, slipping one cigarette from the pack. "You know just what a CO wants to hear on shore leave."
"Customer satisfaction is my number one priority," Tyzuris agreed readily, sounding more amused than anything else. As he punched their latest transaction into the on-counter computer, he went on, "Heard anything from your sister lately, Sullivan?" Cassandra shook her head with a light shrug.
"Not lately," she responded. "Last she messaged me was just after she made her first deployment. No bother to me, though. Ours is a busy life, as you've so kindly reminded me." She gave him a long look, to which she was responded with nothing more than a laugh.
"If you're anything to go by, she'll cope, I'm sure," Tyzuris dismissed with a wave of a taloned hand. "Hell, if Amelia storms the ranks anything like you have, I'll end up with a pair of admirals waltzing around my shop." He looked back up from his omni-tool, facing her again. "Take care of yourself at any rate, Sullivan. Desk work doesn't make the field any less dangerous." Cassandra snorted in amusement.
"One of the perks, at this rate," she agreed, turning where she stood and heading for the doors out – but not before casting the elder turian a wave over her shoulder. "Good transaction, Tyzuris. Keep up the business."
Cassandra had barely made it fifty feet – and had barely raised her lighter halfway to the cigarette between her lips – before a sharp, telltale beep sounded from her omni-tool, informing her of a message received.
"Here?" she muttered around the cigarette, irritably pulling it from her mouth and pocketing her lighter again, raising her right arm to tend to the beeping device. Then, when she saw the name attached to the message, her expression turned from annoyance to just-evident surprise. "Saphyria? Udina's office? Wasn't aware the berk made a habit of casually chatting up his COs." She glanced about, noting the crowds scattered about the wards. Frowning just slightly, Cassandra slipped herself into an empty alley between the shops, tapped the device to properly open the message, and began scanning it through.
She hadn't even reached halfway before her reaction expressed itself unbidden.
"Bloody hell," she whispered, mortified.
Though Cassandra had been in the Alliance Navy for seven years, thus living almost entirely away from Earth, it was where she'd been born – in Dublin, to be precise, 25 years long past. Just the same, it was where her father had been born, and her sister as well. Though they each had long moved away, it was their home – it was her home.
And now, it was under attack.
Now, the Reapers had come.
After a few stunned moments spent finishing the message, Cassandra raised a shaky hand to the omni-tool, tapping the interface to power it down again. Then, she fell back, leaning heavily against the metal wall behind her, head craned upward and disbelieving eyes set on the ceiling.
"Shit," she muttered, bringing her hand up to rub at the headache forming behind her temples. Inhaling deeply, she folded her arms over her chest, eyes closed.
Bay E-31, she thought, the horror and disbelief that had welled within her gradually replacing themselves with cold, silent fury. Slowly, she ran a hand back through her short, perpetually-unkempt blonde hair. Quick to the plan, Ambassador, I'll give you that.
Opening her eyes again, Cassandra straightened herself. Then, with furious, invoked purpose in her stride, she turned and exited the alley.
And this time, you can damned well count me in.
By the time Cassandra reached E-31, her headache had become less a headache and more a dull annoyance, thanks mainly to the timely intervention of her first cigarette of the day, which she had long gone through on the way to her destination. In fact, by the time she stepped out of the elevator she'd taken and into the bay in question, the Captain's lighter was already well on its way to bringing her next one to life.
"Sorry I'm late," she remarked around the smoke, already noting the presence of the others in the bay. "It's a fair walk to get here from the wards." She flicked the antique silver lighter open, setting the cigarette alight, and then finally turned her head up to scan over her fellows.
And when she properly took in the state of them – one battered, bloodied human, with a Drell hovering over him and a krogan standing close enough for it to be incriminating – she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow in what was very nearly bemused amusement.
"Captain Cassandra Sullivan, for the record. N7," she supplied, tone more than a bit on the side of dubious. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"Don't be afraid of the dark and cold..."
|quote quick quote
|Kushluk Shimazu
May 3, 12 at 9:42am ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Gerald couldn't help but chuckle a bit as the Captain introduced herself, "Not interrupting a damn thing Cap'n, just missed the show actually."
The new arrival then asked with perplexed look, "What's your name soldier?"
Rolling his eyes, Gerald uneasily stood to his feet and delivered a proper salute, "First Lieutenant Gerald Raynor. Your N7 as well Ma'am?" he asked remembering her last bit of her introduction.
Sullivan returned the salute and replied, "Yes I am Lieutenant. And if you are N7 as well then what could do that to your face." She said pointing to his bruised and bloody face with her antique lighter.
With shrug Gerald answered, "I tried to say hello to the Krogan over there and … well he had a way to say hello that I wasn't expecting. Everything's under control though. And I've had worse then this. Now if you don't mind I'm going to sit down and treat this up Cap'n." With a nod from her Gerald eased himself down and rested his back against the wall.
He then looked to his right and saw the Drell still standing beside him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
As Raynor applied the medi-gel to his face delicately he asked the Drell, "So if I ask your name will you take a hit at me as well?"
That made the drell chuckle a bit, "Not unless you give me a reason. The names Xenophon, First Lieutenant Gerald Raynor." He said with a tilt of his head as a greeting.
Gerald breathed a sigh of relief as he then continued to dress his bruised face, "Well Xenophon, who else do you think is coming along on this assignment."
The Drell Xenophon looked to him and said, "You speak a lot Raynor. Has anyone ever told you that?" he said with his dark eyes observing Gerald.
On the opposite side of Gerald was Captain Sullivan who leaned against a crate while smoking her cigarette added, "I think people have, he just doesn't listen. But Raynor did survive to get his N7 designation, so maybe he is more than he appears."
Disgusted a bit at the way they seemed to look down on him Gerald flinched as he applied the cold medi-gel on the last section of his injured face, "No offense you two, but if you want something blown to kingdom come, look no further than me. And I've killed my fair share, including Geth and worse." He said coldly.
The Captain sighed and retorted, "I never questioned your skill Lieutenant, cool your guns there. Plus if what is said of Earth is true then there will be plenty of basterds that need blowing up. You'll get your chance yet Raynor."
With a smirk Gerald nodded and cracked his neck and knuckles, "Looking forward to it Cap'n. Actually I'm surprised we haven't seen any Turians, Salarians, or Asari. You'd think the Council species would care to show up." He said as he relaxed his bulky figure, closed his felt and tried to get comfortable against the cold wall.
Only the dead have seen the end of war - Plato
Every conflict has a peace at the end, every peace has a war coming - Kush
When the first bullet goes by your head, politics and all that other shit goes right out the window - Hoot
|quote quick quote
May 3, 12 at 10:10am ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
"It's not so surprising actually." Xenophon now stood near Gearld, "The council races aren't very trusting of you Humans. You're still too new. The Hanar are very close to earning their own Council seat and so I have been selected to help that process along." He let out a chuckle, "I'm very noticeable." He gestured over to Draith, "Your new best friend the Krogan is probably along for similar reasons."
They seemed to see the logic in his words. He leaned in a little closer to the Humans, his voice now a whisper. "Speaking of our trusted and beloved ally over there, I wouldn't let him worry you. Krogans may act tough, but that's just because they are. You'll get used to it. Or you'll die. Either way there's nothing to worry about."
Xenophon clapped his hands together, "Enough about that though. How do you guys feel about flying into combat?"
False hope leads to true despair, watch how quickly white turns to black.
|quote quick quote
|Kushluk Shimazu
May 3, 12 at 11:53am ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Though his eyes where closed Gerald answered his new companion's question, "Well, I'm ready and willing to do my part. I imagine however that even with two N7 specialists, a drell assassin, and a Krogan warrior that we are not going to be able to turn the tide alone." the human said plainly.
Xenophon then asked, "What makes you think I'm an assassin Lieutenant?"
"Your history of your species, I've read up on your kind a bit. You wouldn't be here unless you were the best of the best, plus though you may not look like much your wiry muscles and dexterous bone structure make you ideal assassins. The Hanar are not fighters, so due to them saving your kind from your home world you become their sword and shield. Not a bad arrangement as both sides benefit."
The Drell paused for a moment and his teeth seem to grind in irritation as Gerald went on his rant. But as he opened his mouth to answer, Gerald continued, "I honestly don't judge your species though. What's happened in the past can't be changed and should not be judged, if you're here then that means you come highly recommended. Thus I'm glad to have you Xenophon, I haven't seen a Drell in action before but I look forward to seeing you wreck hell on these Reapers."
Gerald then turned to his fellow human Sullivan and asked, "You think the fleets will give us any support on this run Cap'n? Can't see how honestly with Earth n all, but our job ain't going to exactly be a cakewalk."
Only the dead have seen the end of war - Plato
Every conflict has a peace at the end, every peace has a war coming - Kush
When the first bullet goes by your head, politics and all that other shit goes right out the window - Hoot
|quote quick quote
May 3, 12 at 1:41pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
The Captain took a long, quiet drag from her cigarette, before finally taking it from her mouth to respond.
"Speaking freely, Raynor, I doubt it," she responded. "Not with the way things are going now. And not with the way things are about to go. Sure, we might get lucky and have some free supplies and assets shipped our way, but physical help from the Fleet? I wouldn't count on it." Cassandra raised the cigarette back to her lips, taking one final pull from it, before flicking it to the floor and stamping it out with a heavy boot.
"But when it comes down to it, Lieutenant, I'm personally not complaining," she went on, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against the crates again. "I'd prefer our ships focus on fortifying Earth. The smaller the target this team of ours present, the less of an opportunity our enemies have to find us out. And where spec ops are concerned, that means a much, much harder hit behind the scenes. Can't speak for our friends, but so long as Udina keeps us well-equipped and well-maintained - and maybe sends a few more candidates our way - I'll be happy with the arrangement."
"Don't be afraid of the dark and cold..."
|quote quick quote
May 3, 12 at 2:31pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Draith stood idly while the rest of this ensemble slowly began to amass together to prepare to embark on… whatever they were meant to do. So far, it was two Alliance soldiers, a drell agent, and Draith. A krogan battlemaster.
Draith took a moment to piece things together.
Everyone here received the same message. That message came from an asari named Saphyria. Saphyria is Ambassador Udina's adjutant. Udina is the representative of humanity. Humanity's home world Earth is currently under siege by the Reapers.
Those legendary killing machines. Draith remembered the attack on the citadel several years ago. This very place was under attack by a Reaper vessel, backed by a battalion of geth ships. And it was all overseen by Saren Arterius. That bastard turian. Any krogan that wasn't in the loop probably would have blamed the whole thing on Saren alone. And there probably could have been justice to the claim.
But no, it was a Reaper. Just one. And now an army of them was attacking earth at this very moment.
And everyone currently in bay E-31 was expected to do something about it.
Draith glanced over at the other three and stared while they kept talking to each other. He began assessing what he knew they excelled in and what they'd be good for.
Raynor. Alliance dog number one. Looked like any other soldier. But he had to be one of the best, or he wouldn't be here. And he kept his footing against Draith slamming into him head-on, so he was a stable fighter. At least, he would prove to be. And the apparent experience with explosives would come in handy when the need arose.
Sullivan. Alliance dog numero dos. Draith never fought alongside many women, but at a glance, she looked like one tough bitch. And she smoked, so that added on to the exterior. Those who rose above the N7 courses always turned out stellar, though. So Draith could hold some regard for her yet-to-be-witnessed abilities.
And then… Xenophon. Odd name for a drell, but there existed worse. Most every drell Draith ever met was an agent or assassin of some kind, usually under hanar employment. This guy, though… Draith got the feeling he was more into theatrics than finesse. Plenty of young biotics were like that. And Draith was sure this particular drell was a biotic, or he wouldn't be here.
So all three of these people plus Draith, evidently with more along the way. Whatever they were gearing up for… it'd be something big. And if it were Reaper forces they'd be fighting, then experience with the geth would prove useful to some extent. And Draith had plenty of experience with the geth.
Draith turned his head away from the other three before they caught him staring. He crossed his arms and looked at the ship they'd be riding out of here.
Salarian vessel.
Draith began wondering who exactly the captain of this bitch was.
|quote quick quote
|Aulis Vaara
May 3, 12 at 4:38pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Daniel stood peeking over the railing at the people below. Little Daniel, his mother always called him. He hated that, he was almost eight now, after all. His mother said this was the presidium, where the most important people of all the alien races gathered to discuss the things that grown-ups discuss. Daniel had asked why they were here, and his mother has said that she had important things to share with the other humans here. He couldn't imagine what that was. The only thing she ever said was that he should keep out of the cookie jar.
Still peeking over the railing, he could see two saries stomping after one another. He liked that word stomping. The larger one of the two was chasing the other one. As they got closer, Daniel got a better look at the smaller sari. Her hair tentacle thingies were strange. Different from those of the other saries. They were hanging down, as if they were wet. Maybe she had gone swimming in that big lake down below.
The older sari raised her voice. "Layana, stop right now!"
"Why should I?" The other asked.
"Because I'm your mother and you should at least listen to me!" The older sari said angrily. This was getting scary. Daniel turned around to see his own mother still standing there, talking to the man she had been talking too. She frowned at the man, but when she saw Daniel looking, she smiled at him. His mom had a beautiful smile. He would marry her some day.
Daniel turned back to the two saries. "... made me this way mother! You wanted me to be less stagnant than other asari, and now that I'm living up to your design, you suddenly change your mind! That's not how it works, mother!" Was an asari anything like a sari? Daniel didn't know, but it had to be.
"This is different and you know Layana!"
"LAYA!" The younger sari growled, making more people look her way now. They were drawing a lot of attention.
"Fine, Laya! You're asking me to let my only daughter fly off into battle. You're still a child, less stagnant or not, and you're asking me to let you get killed on some far off world!"
"You put salarian in me! In their culture I would be middle-aged now! I have trained mother, you know I have some skill. I can do some good, I can help!"
Daniel gasped as sec cops passed just below him toward the two saries. Their guns were still at their sides, but they had their hand on them. Daniel wondered why they didn't just take them out. Weren't they supposed to do that? Before they could get close to the two, they were enveloped in a blue bubble and froze. They didn't move at all anymore. He wanted to call for his mom, but she was already there, dragging him away from the railing.
"Layana!" Her mother shouted once again. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Her mother would only love to see her daughter taken in so she couldn't actually enlist anywhere. Not that her mother would ever admit to such an appalling thing, but if it kept her daughter from leaving, she would.
More c-sec officers arrived on the scene, though these whipped out their weapons as soon as they saw the stasis bubble incapacitating their collegues. Laya sighed as she blinked another one into existance, paralyzing the two new officers. For good measure, she added a mental touch up to the first one, making sure it stuck in place for a while longer.
"Sorry mother," she finally said herself, tired of waiting for her mother to make the next move. "I plan on going through with this, and nor you, nor c-sec is going to stop me."
Laya could see tears in her mother's eyes shortly before she began to glow with biotic prowess. She fired lift projectiles, but Laya dodged nimbly, augmenting her already agile frame by biotically decreasing its mass as she dodged. There was an even better way, she had learned, but it would require a lot of practice before she could actually put it into action. Asari truly were bad at sharing their knowledge, despite their matriarchs trying to give advice to all who sought it. There was no time to ponder that at the moment though, and thus she did the only thing she could.
Laya wiped away some tears too as she left behind her mother encased in a stasis bubble along with all the c-sec officers. She jumped the nearest balcony to land on the floor below, biotics dampening the impact. She waded through the crowds, disappearing in them long before c-sec broke from its stasis and could begin to track her.
Making her way somewhere, she didn't really know where to go yet, Laya looked back over her training. Asari normally had a hundred or so years to complete their education, but they were never in any hurry to learn. Laya, on the other hand, had been eager and quick to learn, studying a lot with her father's contacts in STG, learning as much as they could teach her. Because of this, Laya didn't much feel like an asari, though she was clearly not a salarian either. No, she was something entirely different. She was herself, and she liked that very much.
She smiled to herself, right before bumping into another c-sec officer. She tried mumbling a quick apology before moving on, but the turian officer stopped her. "You're the one we're looking for, aren't you."
"No," Laya answered. She was a terrible liar though and the c-sec officer looked right through her. She didn't hesitate a second as he tried to stop her, flinging a lift projectile into the turian, sending him floating before he could grab her. With another nimble dodge, she was off into the crowd again.
Two hours and half a dozen run-ins later, Laya was still not any closer to finding a way off the citadel and helping out somewhere out there. Suddenly, she bumped into another asari, cursing her bad luck of the day. Before she could flee again, however, the asari grabbed her shoulder and spoke as fast as she could. "Layana T'Saeri, I've got a job for you."
"Huh, who are you?" Laya asked, holding back the stasis she was ready to cast.
"My name is Saphyria, I work for councilor Udina," the asari responded.
"Why would he offer me a job?" There was no reason for that particular human to be interesting in aliens. In fact, he was known for being quite human centric in his views.
The other asari frowned at, and then sighed. "Because there's no-one else to do the job. You want to help? Meet the others at docking bay E-31."
"Others?" Laya questioned, but Saphyria was already walking away, massaging her forehead with her right hand. Laya wasn't exactly sure why, but this seemed like a very bad sign. Nevertheless, if she had been offered a job by a councilor, c-sec would no longer be after her. She was relieved, a bit. She had never though this was going to be easy, but her heart felt heavy and her stomach seemed filled with butterflies. She was terrified and excited all at once and she didn't have the energy to fuel them both. Nevertheless, she made her way to the elevator and allowed it to carry her to docking bay E-31, not knowing what to expect.
What will you fight for? ~ The Neo-Duelist League ~ My Role-Player Profile ~
|quote quick quote
|Kushluk Shimazu
May 4, 12 at 2:01pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Another few minutes passed by with little happening other than Gerald speaking with Captain Sullivan about the recent attacks on Earth. Xenophon had went back to his practicing of his martial arts while Draith continued to merely stand aside, keeping to himself and preferring not to associate with the others.
To Gerald this was mind-numbing boring; he hated the hurry up and wait mindset of whoever was running the show. He looked up to the Ship in the center of the bay and muttered allowed, "You'd think the owners of this damned ship wanted us to sit our arse's for their amusement or something."
Beside him Captain Sullivan said nonchalantly as she checked over her own equipment, "Well go over your gear Lieutenant. Make the best out of it."
Rolling his eyes Gerald stood himself up and tried to occupy himself with doing push-ups, sit-ups, and a few other strength building exercises to kill time. After a few minutes of this Gerald then put a durasteel on top of the crates and began to do a few pull-ups, chin-ups and other such. In his mind he tried to forget about Earth for the moment and tried to focus on the number of sets he did. After another ten sets of four pull-ups Gerald then began another set of chin-ups.
As he was doing these though the Lieutenant heard the subtle slide of the hanger bay lift doors open. Gerald merely ignored it as he wanted to finish his set of exercises, he hated it when he to break for others anyways. Besides all this waiting around made him a little agitated.
Out of Gerald's peripheral vision however Lieutenant Raynor saw Xenophon stop mid kick and gently plant his foot down. The Drell then turned to Gerald and said sarcastically, "Well it seems the Asari have graced us with an appearance Raynor. According to your logic, it seems they at least care."
Sighing in frustration Gerald let go of the durasteel bar and landed on his feet, breathing deeply to control his breathings. Sweat trickled down his bulky figure and wet stains showed through his gray N7 shirt, but Gerald merely cracked his neck and knuckles before stretching to relax his tense and burning muscles. As he did though he went over in his head what he knew about the Asari quickly in his studies.
Like the Krogan and the Drell Raynor had read up a bit on the Asari. They were a species of blue-skinned female looking humanoids who could essentially reproduce with any species through a method that made Gerald's head spin thinking about it. They go through a three-stage life cycle based on their age and could live up to a thousand years if not killed or catching sickness got in the way. But he did remember that Asari were supposedly some of the most deadly biotic specialists in the galaxy.
With that in mind for their abilities Gerald then turned to meet the newcomer. She stood about average height in practical clothing but other than her head scalps being down in a shoulder length hair like way and a few vaguely seen dark spots she seemed like nothing special.
But that is the thing about Biotics, they hope you underestimate them.
So with his breathing controlled Gerald went to Captian Sullivan's side who was speaking with Xenophon about some martial techniques. Gerald then noted that they did not seem to be giving the Asari any notice so he asked, "Anyone going to at least say hello to her?"
Sullivan then smiled and looked at Gerald, "You seem to have a way of greeting people Lieutenant. I have full confidence in your diplomatic expertise."
Raynor rolled his eyes knowing retorted, "Cap'n you just want me to see if she greets people with violence don't you?"
With a sly grin Xenophon added, "Well you are durable for a human, so we consider it a safe practice to send the experts out first. Surely you can appreciate the efficiency of such a tactic Lieutenant Raynor."
Rolling his eyes Gerald shook his head and walked past the pair towards the Asari, though in his mind he begin to see this would not be the first time they would use him as a guinea pig. He did not hear Xenophon or Sullivan make a bet if he was going to get kicked in the face or thrown by biotics across the bay.
Only the dead have seen the end of war - Plato
Every conflict has a peace at the end, every peace has a war coming - Kush
When the first bullet goes by your head, politics and all that other shit goes right out the window - Hoot
|quote quick quote
|Aulis Vaara
May 6, 12 at 11:14pm ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
Laya had no idea what to expect when she stepped through the doors separating dock E31 from the rest of the docking bay. E31 was a docking bay for medium sized spacecraft such as frigates. Because of this, only a handful of docks were attached to the same terminal. It was remarkable just how many docks there were on the citadel, and how many were currently in use. It said a lot about what was going on out there, even if some chose not to see it.
Laya tried to concentrate on her breathing as she looked around the room. It was an exercise to remain calm which worked surprisingly often. At least, if you had the discipline to stay focused on the breathing. Everybody seemed to stop what they were doing as Laya looked at them. A drell, two humans, and an enormous krogan who seemed ready to explode. Soothing herself Laya kept her focus on breathing in and out, in and out.
She could only stand there awkwardly as one of the two humans approached her. Laya had absolutely no idea what to say, in fact, she had very little idea what was actually going on or why these people were here. She quickly glanced out the window to see a salarian ship docked at this spot, but that only confused her even more.
"So, you're here for the same reason?" The human asked her rather crudely. No greeting, no introductions, just down to cold hard business. Laya knew her decision was going to land her in some tough situations, but she had not expected those difficulties to include her future companions.
Just looking at the ceiling, Laya tried to come up with something to say, but in the end, she could only say "no". Obviously not what the human expected, judging by his expression just after she said it. Just then she noticed that the human had blue eyes much like an asari. She had no idea if that was normal or not, but it certainly seemed odd to her.
Taking a moment to think, the human then asked: "Then why are you here?" Everybody seemed interested in her answer. The other human, the drell, and the krogan were all staring at her, waiting for her to reply.
"To help," Laya said after mulling it over for a moment. It was an honest answer, even though it was short. The details didn't really matter, nor did she want to think about them. On top of that, it was unlikely these people were even interested in her life's story. Briefly she wondered what their stories were, but it wouldn't make a difference. If she had to be honest with herself, she was not in the mood to talk or get to know anyone. She just wanted to get settled in on the ship and sleep, leave meeting the rest for the next day.
That reminded her that she would not have her own equipment available right then. It was all still back in her mother's apartment on the presidium, and there was no way she could go get it now. She sighed audibly, and the human looked at her funny again.
"Why are you here?" Laya blurted out without thinking. She regretted it almost instantly, not because of the reaction she got, but because she simply didn't care right now.
"I was transferred here from my previous assignment." There was more behind that story, but Laya didn't want to ask right then. She tried to make a mental note to remember it, but she would likely forget by morninng.
Out of nowhere, the drell was standing next to the human, asking: "Aren't you a little young to be here?"
Laya was saved from answering that question by a turian entering the room, carrying several weapons. "Layana T'Saeri? I have your weapons here."
They didn't look like her weapons, but better to have her equipment than to have to ask the others for hand-outs. She had no idea who had arranged it though. "Thank you. I'll take them from here, just put them down on the bench there." Laya pointed at the bench on the left side of the door.
OoC:: Not the best I've ever written, but it's something, at least.
What will you fight for? ~ The Neo-Duelist League ~ My Role-Player Profile ~
|quote quick quote
|Scott Cee
May 8, 12 at 11:52am ^re: Mass Effect: Spectres [PM, M, B]
The Gorot sat in docking bay E31. Unlike many salarian vessels it did not resemble an ocean-going ship from a past age. The main body and fuselage was an elongated teardrop shape and its wings were swept back. The Gorot was a second generation stealth vessel, based in part upon the designs of the Alliance's Normandy and, like that ship, had been developed in concert with the turian Hierarchy. It was a fitting vessel for a salarian Special Tasks Group, capable of inserting a small team of specialists to a mission area and remaining on station, invisible to both passive and active scans, for a quick extraction.
Major Kirrahe and Captain Rentola stepped into the docking bay; Rentola towing a loader borne aloft on mass effect fields with one hand. It was loaded down with crates of supplies bearing the logos of Hahne-Kedar and Elkoss Combine.
Kirrahe approached the group of individuals standing or lounging around the waiting area, his omnitool active on his wrist. His large dark eyes flicked from the list to the people before him, mentally matching names to faces.
Human female, Sullivan. Human male, von Raynor. Krogan, Draith. Drell, Xenophon. Asari, T'Saeri.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I am Major Kirrahe and the Gorot is my ship. Captain Rentola you will meet properly a little later. I have had quarters assigned to each of you, bearing in mind the requirements of your race."
"I hope the krogan is being quartered in the hold," called Rentola, from where he was supervising the loading of the crates into the cargo bay. "I'd rather not have it tearing up the ship."
"I'd rather not have you causing a diplomatic incident before we are even underway, Captain," countered Kirrahe, flashing Rentola a look of annoyance. "This is a military ship, so please do not be expecting the comforts available on a passenger liner, but you will be made as comfortable as possible for the hopefully short period you will be traveling with us." He took a deep breath. "Follow me, please, and welcome aboard."
Kirrahe headed for the airlock, not looking back to see if the gathered individuals were following.
"The commanding officer is aboard," announced the shipboard VI in a high-pitched voice.
The interior of the Gorot was cramped and dark, barely lit by dim red lighting strips. Crew stations lined the central walkway, the pilot and navigator's chairs located towards the nose of the ship and the currently illuminated galaxy map occupied a large circular space roughly in the centre of the vessel. Uniformed salarian crew members went about the business of making the ship ready for flight. There was no small talk and no jokes, every salarian was utterly focused on his tasks.
Until Rognar Draith emerged from the airlock.
Every head turned to watch the krogan's progress along the gangway, followed by a stream of whispering.
"Cut that chatter," barked Kirrahe, coming on to the ship behind Draith. "The krogan is part of the crew for the duration of this mission, and I expect you to treat him no different than any other crew member. He is Rognar Draith, and anyone who has a problem with him, or any other of these people, has a problem with me." He pitched his voice to carry to the front of the ship, where Rentola was leaning over the navigator's station. "Also allow me to introduce the rest of these fine people. Captain Sullivan and First Lieutenant von Raynor, with the Alliance. Operative Xenophon with the hanar Primacy. And Layana T'Saeri of no known affiliation."
Kirrahe approached the glowing galaxy map, stepping up on to the ship commander's podium and manipulating the projected image with practiced ease. The image zoomed out from the Citadel to show the entire galaxy with its spiral arms, and then in again, this time centered on the Sol System. Mars was the fourth planet out from the central star, and was highlighted by a glowing string of salarian text.
"Navigation informs me that transit time will be just under three hours," said Kirrahe aloud, tapping instructions into the control panel. "Mission briefing will commence at zero hour minus one. Until that time feel free to orient yourselves and find your quarters. Your equipment is stored in the cargo bay. The mess is on the level below this, and the cargo bay below that. Level 1 is off-limits, but if you wish to talk I will be here in the CIC or on the bridge."
I have no idea how long it would take to get from the Citadel to the Sol System. A couple of hours seemed about right.
Private Tavi liked his new armor very much. It was heavy, even with the servo assist, but it felt reassuringly solid. In this armor, he felt invincible. It was also stylish, which was another reason he liked it so much. It was mostly white, with detail highlights in black and orange.
He looked sheepishly left and right along the line of similarly clad troopers and felt his heart swell. Everyone was wearing in the same armor. It was top of the line, and outfitting the entire company must have set back his employers some serious credits. But it unified them completely. Unified not only in appearance, but in purpose.
Not aliens, not a vast and uncaring galaxy, not even Reapers could stand against an army of humans united behind a single cause. So had said the recruiter, and Tavi, and scores of other young men and women, had believed it. They had joined up in their hundreds from worlds all across the galaxy. There was no discrimination here. All, regardless of training or background or religious affiliation, were welcome.
A humanity united behind Cerberus was unstoppable.
Tavi snapped to attention, eyes front, as the Commandant strolled past, inspecting the troops under his command. Tavi was wary of the Commandant. The man carried himself as if he had been places and seen things. Horrible places and terrifying things. But things that he had overcome. The Commandant had an attitude of complete authority, an absolute confidence in his ability to lead and to be instantly obeyed.
"Very good," said the Commandant to the assembled troops at large. He retreated with a measured pace, hands clasped behind his armored back, to his position at the head of the docking bay that was currently serving as a makeshift parade ground. Prior to the assembly all of the crates had been moved to the front of the huge hangar, and now the Commandant climbed easily on to one of them to address his command.
"The mission is going as planned," he said, a slight rasping metallic edge lent to his voice by the speaker system built into his helmet. "The beacon has been secured and is currently being prepped for transport. It was unfortunate that so many of the station's personnel could not be persuaded to see the error of their ways, but once humanity as a whole realizes what is at stake their loss will matter little. Our own scientists are more than equal to those possessed by the misguided Alliance, and this small setback will soon be rectified.
"On this matter, I note that the asari, T'Soni still has not been located. This station is not infinite in size, there are more than fifty of you, she is one asari, alone and frightened. You will find her and you will bring her to me. Failure is not an option. If she is not found by the time the beacon is aboard the cruiser, the repercussions will be severe.
"Alpha Squad, search the labs. Delta Squad, the hangars and cargo dock. Echo Squad, prepare the demolition charges. Omega Squad, with me."
Jodnum Burr, Special Tactics and Recon, was shadowing a hanar. The slow pace at which the hanar moved was giving him problems. He was used to targets that, even when they did not know that they had picked up a tail, used shadows and crowds, ducked into alleyways and corridors, looked not only over their shoulder but were smart enough to pay attention to who or what might be on a level above or below the one they were on.
The hanar drifted sedately, even serenely, though the chaos that was the Citadel these days. It paid little attention to anything that was happening around it, seeming to avoid people in its way without apparent effort. It had stopped to peruse the wares available at a store, but had moved on without purchasing anything.
Burr did not have much time for the hanar as a race. So slow and careful over every little thing so as to avoid causing offense. At least the elcor could be belligerent on occasion, for all that they too moved and spoke slowly. There was several worlds of difference, in Burr's opinion, between moving and emoting with care due to one's evolution and doing it on purpose. He sometimes wondered if the whole thing wasn't a carefully orchestrated act, the whole softly-softly, holier than thou thing was too good to be true.
Enkindlers? Hah!
Also, their tentacles were creepy and all of the big stupid jellyfish looked exactly alike.
But this hanar was definitely up to no good.
If only he could prove it, but he knew someone that could help.
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[Previous] | [Session 66] | [Next]
G.W. Doppmann (NASA Ames Research Center)
I describe a new technique for deriving effective temperatures, surface gravities, vsini rotational velocities, and the amount of non-stellar continuum excess (veiling) from infrared spectra at high resolution of low mass pre-main sequence stars. The derived protostellar and disk properties are measured by matching the shapes and relative strengths of closely spaced photospheric absorption lines to spectral synthesis models at high resolution (R > 15,000) in the K-band. Fits to near-IR spectra of MK standards have validated the technique and provided an analysis of the systematic errors. I apply the technique to a sample of Class II T-Tauri stars in Ophiuchus. This new spectral fitting technique offers the promise of improved accuracy in placing young stellar objects on evolutionary model tracks, independent of low resolution spectroscopy and photometry.
[Previous] | [Session 66] | [Next]
Bulletin of the American Astronomical Society, 34, #4
© 2002. The American Astronomical Soceity.


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SHTF/TEOTWAWKI Fantasy Threads
To keep new members from having to search old threads (even though that's great fun and very informative) we'd like to let them know what we expect. Questions about "what's the best camping knife?" or "what's the best military knife?" or "what's the most effective non-firearm weapon for those without a lot of training?" or something specific ("what knife was used during WWII by commandos"), fine, great, that's what we're here for. On the other hand, if you start a thread about what "non-firearm weapon to have when life as we know it comes crashing to an end" your thread will simply disappear.
Unfortunately, other parts of THR are getting crowded by fantasy threads and it's time to think up other questions. Thanks for keeping NFW at a higher level.
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What in the hell are you going to do with freedom?
A novel about the disaster after the election of the first female president.
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In a hard-fought contest with the season on the line, Phoenix Cortez was looking for any edge it could get.
Just before halftime of its Division III boys' soccer quarterfinal with Phoenix Northwest Christian, Cortez found that edge.
Cortez purposely had some players move out of position on a corner kick near Northwest Christian's goal, confusing the defense just long enough for Cortez's Daniel Adoo to head a ball into the goal for the only scoring in a 1-0 Cortez victory.
"You play that tactic, and you can try it 40 times and have it fail, but you just need it to work once," Cortez coach Jose Corona said after the game.
Adoo's goal came in the 39th minute of play with only 6.3 seconds left before halftime, and it changed the complexion of the game entirely. Up to that point in the contest Northwest Christian had played Cortez evenly, if not taken the upper hand, but all the scoreboard showed was the favorite, No. 3 seed and home team Cortez seizing the lead and getting all the scoring it needed.
Despite the momentum shift, Cortez wasn't content to sit on its lead in the second half.
"Mentally, I don't feel comfortable sitting back, letting them come to you," Corona said.
Cortez (15-2-1) actually picked up its pace offensively in the final 40 minutes, and Northwest Christian needed three different heroic defensive efforts to keep the game close.
Twice Cortez's speedy forwards got behind the Northwest Christian defense and beat the goalie, only to see Northwest Christian fullbacks Chandler Maszton and Sam Temple come out of nowhere to send away balls that seemed like certain goals.
In a third instance, Northwest Christian goalie Cody Fullerton blocked a penalty kick from Adoo in the 70th minute.
Despite the Northwest Christian defensive magic, Cortez continued to attack and kept the game mostly on the Northwest Christian half of the field during the final 40 minutes to preserve the win.
Cortez advances to play in the Division III semifinals on Wednesday at home against Tucson Palo Verde Magnet. Northwest Christian finishes its season at 12-7-1.


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|-> Chapter 2 -> Atmosphere
Atmosphere: North America
Air quality
Over the past 30 years, there have been notable air quality improvements at both regional and local levels in the region. Levels of many air pollutants have been gradually reduced - the trends in the United States (see graph) are representative of the region.
Acid rain control programmes contributed to the dramatic decline in sulphur emissions since 1995 with reductions of 10-25 per cent in some parts of the north-eastern United States (US EPA 2000a). Recent evidence, however, suggests that many sensitive areas are still receiving acid deposition that exceeds their assimilation capacity, and damage caused by acid deposition may be more fundamental than was previously believed (CEC 2000, Munton 1998).
New concerns have arisen over ground level ozone and fine particulate matter, whose emissions have not decreased as markedly as other common pollutants.
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I've never played a Call of Duty game, but it can't hurt to try.
Is there a certain one I should play first before jumping into these two?
when its come first person shooter games, it does not matter, unless you are planning to play it for the single player only. most ppl who buy call of duty games, play it for the multiplayer online experience.


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BEIRUT, Lebanon - Sheikh Hassan Nasrallah, spiritual leader of the Hezbollah terror organization, accused Israel of instigating a report in Germany's Der Spiegel newspaper accusing Hezbollah of assassinating former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri.
The article, quoting sources close to the international tribunal investigating the 2005 assassination, concluded that Hezbollah, not Syria, was behind the massive truck bombing that killed the prime minister and 22 others.
International and local condemnation following the bombing forced Syria to withdraw its large military presence in Lebanon at that time.
In a speech marking nine years since Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) troops withdrew from southern Lebanon, Nasrallah accused the German newspaper of being part of the "Zionist lobby."
"We see the Der Spiegel report as an Israeli accusation," Nasrallah said. "Der Spiegel belongs to the Zionist lobby, which funds its operations," the sheikh claimed.
"This plan is the last weapon remaining in the American and Israeli plan to create hostility between Arabs and Iran," Nasrallah said, noting that this was not the first time Hezbollah had been accused of the prime minister's assassination.
"There are elections in Lebanon and Israel and the United States are scared of the opposition's [Hezbollah's] victory. They are trying to change the outcome. The Israelis want to start civil war in this country," Nasrallah said.
Hezbollah, which was given veto power in the Lebanese legislature a year ago, hopes to win the popular vote in the upcoming parliamentary elections on June 7.
Sources: The Associated Press, YNet news
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Created in this Craftsy class
Craftsy Block of the Month 2012 taught by Amy Gibson
In Craftsy's first-ever Block of the Month, Amy Gibson brings you 10 specific quilting techniques - appliqué, string quilting, paper piecing and more.
Other projects made as part of this class:
QuiltingSomething old for somebody new quilt
QuiltingQuilt class from Amy Gibson
QuiltingMy first Quilt
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Of course i had to mess up the top left but overall i wanted to give it an uneven kind of colorful theme anyways. Hope it worked.
01/07/2014 Flag
there is actually purple in the strips but for some reason can't really see it. Will try to take a better pic to bring the purple out.
01/07/2014 Flag


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Meeting Planning and Reports
The following provides information and useful templates for planning and managing a MAC meeting or symposium. For further information or questions about planning for a MAC conference, please contact MAC's Vice President.
Planning Timelines
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Recent Past Conference Reports
2015 Annual Meeting, Lexington, Kentucky
2014 Symposium, Champaign-Urbana, Illinois
2014 Annual Meeting, Kansas City, Missouri
2013 Symposium, Green Bay, Wisconsin
2013 Annual Meeting, Indianapolis, Indiana
2012 Symposium, Cincinnati, Ohio
2012 Annual Meeting, Grand Rapids, Michigan
2011 Symposium, Sioux City, Iowa
2011 Spring Meeting, St. Paul, Minnesota


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Inked Girls: Tiana Alyxandria Romkee
Myself in a sentence: Myself in a sentence.... not possible.
Occupation: Student/ cocktail waitress
Hometown: Hawaii
The design and themes of my tattoos: New school, black & grey.
More specifics about my tattoo: my tattoos are basically my autobiography
My favorite tattoo and the story behind it: Hawaiian tribal, represents my culture, community, being a wahine (women) as well as the chain of islands.
My next tattoo: new school anchor on my forearm to continue my half sleeve.