Alleluia Green
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 16, 2010
“Captain, we’re approaching Photon,” Joker’s voice popped over the intercom, echoing across the CIC. Heads raised, looks were exchanged. The exact details of their next mission were privy only to the Commander and his comrades; the remainder of the crew knew to stay quiet and follow orders. Each dossier from the Illusive Man proved more dangerous and risky than the last, bringing the best and often the most dangerous people in the galaxy together in one space vessel.
Commander Shepard’s deep voice patched through moments later. “Parker, Vakarian, load out and report to the bridge. Shuttle drops in ten minutes.”
“That’s you, darling,” Doctor Chakwas said dryly without looking up from her computer, where she double-checked the remote Medi-Gel capacities of all deploying crew members. “Best leave those reports for another day.”
From her cluttered desk across the room from Chakwas, Lusine Parker glanced up from her latest batch of crew physicals and nodded grimly. Even though missions with Shepard were no more dangerous than the life she had known before, a street rat in the slums of Omega, her heart still skipped a few beats when the Commander called her to deploy. Shepard was good - no, great at what he did, but that didn’t eliminate the dangers. Shields could fail, amps could haywire, omni-tools could malfunction. Lusine was no stranger to danger, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“I’ll be back,” she told Chakwas, forcing a measure of cheer and certainty into her voice as she stood up, adjusting her long-sleeved white shirt over her slim yet solid form. She said this every time, and strove to mean it. Chakwas upheld her part in the ritual by simply nodding, and returning to her work. That was what Chakwas had taught her, most of all: do the damn work.
Lusine hopped the elevator down to the armor, shoot quick smiles at the crew as she passed them. They had ignored her at first: a nobody engineer from the dankest and most rotten depths of the Omega asteroid, an orphaned girl with an odd understanding of the human body. Now, a few N7 missions later, they nodded as she walked past and gave her the time of day during mess. The mess sergeant nicknamed her Lu, and it stuck. She had respect.
Reaching her locker, she quickly donned her white armor, the mechanized joints hissing and clicking into place. Grabbing her Stinger pistol, she double-checked her amps, running a worried hand through her short red hair before grabbing her helmet. She was a short, lithe, firm young woman; not much in the way of physical intimidation, which made it easy for her to hide during combat and support from the sidelines.
“Parker, reporting in, sir,” she said through the com link as she donned her helmet, the visor swiping down over her hazel eyes.
The turian, Garrus, responded. “Another day, another mission, Parker. Beat you to the shuttle. I’m still faster than you.”
“Yeah, but I’m prettier,” she responded truthfully, grinning beneath her helmet. She and the turian got on well enough. He was sardonic, and she held a certain appreciation for his humor.
“As long as you’re ready for some combat, I don’t care how you look,” Commander Shepard interjected as the three armored team members - the soldier, the sniper, and the engineer - met down in the shuttle bay. Lusine nodded immediately, sinking into her professional frame of mind. Behind her visor her suit computers whirled to life, bringing up radars, weapon scanners, and vital signals for Shepard, Vakarian, and herself. Allowing the men to climb into the shuttle first, Lusine took one last breath and hopped in, strapping herself into her seat.
“Who we after this time, Commander?” Garrus asked, running his hand down the length of his sniper rifle. Shepard checked the scope on his assault rifle and cleared his throat.
“An ex-soldier. Alliance. Special Ops and Tactics.”
“So he’s dangerous?” Lusine clarified.
“Armed to the teeth, I bet. He’d have to be to survive out here,” Garrus said, nodding towards Photon’s harsh landscape.
“Shuttle dropping in five, Captain,” Joker’s disembodied voice reported. Lusine swallowed thickly, gripping her pistol and steeling her nerves.
Commander Shepard’s deep voice patched through moments later. “Parker, Vakarian, load out and report to the bridge. Shuttle drops in ten minutes.”
“That’s you, darling,” Doctor Chakwas said dryly without looking up from her computer, where she double-checked the remote Medi-Gel capacities of all deploying crew members. “Best leave those reports for another day.”
From her cluttered desk across the room from Chakwas, Lusine Parker glanced up from her latest batch of crew physicals and nodded grimly. Even though missions with Shepard were no more dangerous than the life she had known before, a street rat in the slums of Omega, her heart still skipped a few beats when the Commander called her to deploy. Shepard was good - no, great at what he did, but that didn’t eliminate the dangers. Shields could fail, amps could haywire, omni-tools could malfunction. Lusine was no stranger to danger, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“I’ll be back,” she told Chakwas, forcing a measure of cheer and certainty into her voice as she stood up, adjusting her long-sleeved white shirt over her slim yet solid form. She said this every time, and strove to mean it. Chakwas upheld her part in the ritual by simply nodding, and returning to her work. That was what Chakwas had taught her, most of all: do the damn work.
Lusine hopped the elevator down to the armor, shoot quick smiles at the crew as she passed them. They had ignored her at first: a nobody engineer from the dankest and most rotten depths of the Omega asteroid, an orphaned girl with an odd understanding of the human body. Now, a few N7 missions later, they nodded as she walked past and gave her the time of day during mess. The mess sergeant nicknamed her Lu, and it stuck. She had respect.
Reaching her locker, she quickly donned her white armor, the mechanized joints hissing and clicking into place. Grabbing her Stinger pistol, she double-checked her amps, running a worried hand through her short red hair before grabbing her helmet. She was a short, lithe, firm young woman; not much in the way of physical intimidation, which made it easy for her to hide during combat and support from the sidelines.
“Parker, reporting in, sir,” she said through the com link as she donned her helmet, the visor swiping down over her hazel eyes.
The turian, Garrus, responded. “Another day, another mission, Parker. Beat you to the shuttle. I’m still faster than you.”
“Yeah, but I’m prettier,” she responded truthfully, grinning beneath her helmet. She and the turian got on well enough. He was sardonic, and she held a certain appreciation for his humor.
“As long as you’re ready for some combat, I don’t care how you look,” Commander Shepard interjected as the three armored team members - the soldier, the sniper, and the engineer - met down in the shuttle bay. Lusine nodded immediately, sinking into her professional frame of mind. Behind her visor her suit computers whirled to life, bringing up radars, weapon scanners, and vital signals for Shepard, Vakarian, and herself. Allowing the men to climb into the shuttle first, Lusine took one last breath and hopped in, strapping herself into her seat.
“Who we after this time, Commander?” Garrus asked, running his hand down the length of his sniper rifle. Shepard checked the scope on his assault rifle and cleared his throat.
“An ex-soldier. Alliance. Special Ops and Tactics.”
“So he’s dangerous?” Lusine clarified.
“Armed to the teeth, I bet. He’d have to be to survive out here,” Garrus said, nodding towards Photon’s harsh landscape.
“Shuttle dropping in five, Captain,” Joker’s disembodied voice reported. Lusine swallowed thickly, gripping her pistol and steeling her nerves.
