The Justicar's War Dog 2/4
anonymous
March 15 2013, 06:04:37 UTC
Bang! All fourteen people in the mess reeled as a sharp noise stung their ears and harsh light stabbed their eyes. A wave of biotic energy threw the five foes who were gambling into the far wall. An entire clip of shots riddled the four huddled over their stained captives across the room. The batarian just to the left of the door, trying to blink away the stars wasn’t given enough time to recover before being eviscerated by an omni-weapon. The final two had fallen to their knees behind a long table and actually found the where-with-all to realize they were under attack.
They gathered themselves and a shotgun each before readying to return fire. The larger one, with a dark-red hue, popped up a split second faster which earned him getting knocked back down by a blow to the face. The last unscathed pirate looked over to his mate in time to see the sticky grenade adhered to his face just before it detonated, killing them both.
As the human was dispatching those two, the matriarch was heading for those she had used her biotics on. One of them had a broken neck and lay dead, but the rest were moaning, groaning and writhing.
The most coherent of the bunch sat up, raising his hands, “We surrender.”
Didn’t matter, the Justicar went down the line putting a bullet in each of them before calling across the room, “Clear?”
“Clear, ma’am,” the human answered.
“How are those two?” the Justicar inquired.
“Their wounds are more emotional than physical,” she answered as she gently put an arm around one of the sobbing maidens and handed a medi-gel to the other.
The matriarch took a moment to suppress her building rage before ordering, “Take them to the others. I’ll return to the ship to request their retrieval.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
For several hours the infiltrator stayed by the five scared asari she saved. There wasn’t much she could do besides get them food, clothes or whatever else they wanted. Anything more was well outside her training or comfort zone, but she tried her best and wouldn’t leave them until law enforcement arrived. Then after quite a few rounds of accepting thanks and hugs she let them go to those who could properly help them.
Not one of the asari she saved or that came to assist recognized the human in all the time she spent with them. No, not one of them considered that the mighty hero and savior of the galaxy, Commander Shepard would be anywhere but a parade or ceremony in her honor. If someone so great was around she wouldn’t have to be pointed out and she sure as hell wouldn’t be taking orders from anyone or calling them ma’am.
So without fanfare the human soldier slipped back to her small ship the way she came in. She entered through the lower deck that consisted of a single room, where she left her weapons and stripped out of her armor. Clad in grey tee-shirt and black briefs she climbed a ladder to the main deck popping out a hatch by the narrow corridor connecting the bridge to the living area. Lining the wall across from her were lockers and cabinets, the middle of which contained her clothes. Challenged by the lack of space she dressed; putting on pants, socks and boots that would fit in any barracks.
“Shepard,” an even voice called from the cockpit.
Greater haste took over the human’s hands as she grabbed the item that would complete her outfit and stick out like a sore thumb on board any other ship. As she near jogged down toward the cockpit she buckled the collar around her neck; it just wouldn’t fit properly under her helmet. No longer was she the Commander; no longer would she be saluted; no longer would she give orders. No longer would she need to live up to a lionized name; no longer would she need to be recognized; no longer would she need to order others.
They gathered themselves and a shotgun each before readying to return fire. The larger one, with a dark-red hue, popped up a split second faster which earned him getting knocked back down by a blow to the face. The last unscathed pirate looked over to his mate in time to see the sticky grenade adhered to his face just before it detonated, killing them both.
As the human was dispatching those two, the matriarch was heading for those she had used her biotics on. One of them had a broken neck and lay dead, but the rest were moaning, groaning and writhing.
The most coherent of the bunch sat up, raising his hands, “We surrender.”
Didn’t matter, the Justicar went down the line putting a bullet in each of them before calling across the room, “Clear?”
“Clear, ma’am,” the human answered.
“How are those two?” the Justicar inquired.
“Their wounds are more emotional than physical,” she answered as she gently put an arm around one of the sobbing maidens and handed a medi-gel to the other.
The matriarch took a moment to suppress her building rage before ordering, “Take them to the others. I’ll return to the ship to request their retrieval.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
For several hours the infiltrator stayed by the five scared asari she saved. There wasn’t much she could do besides get them food, clothes or whatever else they wanted. Anything more was well outside her training or comfort zone, but she tried her best and wouldn’t leave them until law enforcement arrived. Then after quite a few rounds of accepting thanks and hugs she let them go to those who could properly help them.
Not one of the asari she saved or that came to assist recognized the human in all the time she spent with them. No, not one of them considered that the mighty hero and savior of the galaxy, Commander Shepard would be anywhere but a parade or ceremony in her honor. If someone so great was around she wouldn’t have to be pointed out and she sure as hell wouldn’t be taking orders from anyone or calling them ma’am.
So without fanfare the human soldier slipped back to her small ship the way she came in. She entered through the lower deck that consisted of a single room, where she left her weapons and stripped out of her armor. Clad in grey tee-shirt and black briefs she climbed a ladder to the main deck popping out a hatch by the narrow corridor connecting the bridge to the living area. Lining the wall across from her were lockers and cabinets, the middle of which contained her clothes. Challenged by the lack of space she dressed; putting on pants, socks and boots that would fit in any barracks.
“Shepard,” an even voice called from the cockpit.
Greater haste took over the human’s hands as she grabbed the item that would complete her outfit and stick out like a sore thumb on board any other ship. As she near jogged down toward the cockpit she buckled the collar around her neck; it just wouldn’t fit properly under her helmet. No longer was she the Commander; no longer would she be saluted; no longer would she give orders. No longer would she need to live up to a lionized name; no longer would she need to be recognized; no longer would she need to order others.
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