[The Soft Rains] Phase 01- The Cradle of Civilization

How could the Alliance have such a thing as a FOB on their own home planet? Things must be more dire than they seemed from outside. Also, someone in the command chain had not paid attention to send her here, of all places. She actually had never thought her destination to be anything special but if this was the showcase event to send the CME commando to?
Anyways... she took a close look around. The inhabitants had made good use of whatever was available, a human quality, they could make something out of nothing in no time. She could live with that, wasn't half as bad as three weeks in the jungles of Pyd'Narhaan.

Speaking of which... she had to grin, displaying her teeth, when she saw that mannequin. Seemed to be the humor of Blitz veterans since she wasn't expecting to go against foureyes here. When Tendaji made his little 'welcome' comment, Freh'ya wasn't moved. she looked him right into the eyes as Dano ordered him down. Yay for the colorblind.
This would definitely become an interesting social study on humans. These guys were partially right though, they were the new kids and they had to prove themselves, until then they were at best considered a burden, at worst a danger.

Then there was Dano. He was the guy to talk to, his ruling on the newbies would be important and the others would adopt it. She just shrugged at his note about Tendaji. The fact that Dano only wore boxers didn't bother Freh'ya. It only reminded her of her own full body suit which was hot.

But first things first. She no idea what kind of animal a Lul was (her translator offered a description that just must be wrong) but since everybody was eating it, she would be fine as well. She helped herself with a beer - the fact that it was warm was telling more than anything about the state of affairs - and a piece of meat.

She toasted at Dano with her bottle and took a bite.
Standing next to Rajapaske, she added to her question towards Dano "... yeah, and where did you find that fellow?", nodding towards the mannequin, wondering if her Blitz theory was correct.

Well, certainly not the most luxurious posting, but compared to everything else in the area, it was civilization nonetheless. Op Chief Dano was certainly a...eccentric individual, if one can figure out what the hell he was saying with that thick Afrikaner accent of his, somehow the fact he used a sword to barbeque chicken and ribs was the least out of place for Emma.

At least of the Marines, Sinisa, seemed to have been an old acquaintance, as Cline went to talk war stories, Emma followed Rajapaske and the others to their quarters to offload some of her gear, namely her helmet, it was getting stifling under that heat. She did make sure to keep her KBs on, never could be too certain in innie country.

She figured she might as well try to converse with the people she would be working with for the immediate future as she grabbed a couple of chicken legs. "Is that thing from the Blitz I'm assuming?". Like everyone else, referring to the mannequin, she of course knew what "blinky" was.

Dano didn't even look up from his cooking during the barrage of questions tossed at him. He simply impaled a rather thick slice of meat with the sword and lifted it for examination before taking a bite and ripping some away. A moment later he spit the chunk on the ground, as he returned the meat to the grill and liberally doused it with beer.

"Oh, you know, I was a couple different places in the war. Shitholes, hellholes, godless jungles ... just your daily variety. And will all of you quit callin' me Chief? I got served my Big Chicken before the war, so no Geilneef from me anymore. Not that I still don't get my chances..." The men behind him chuckled as one or two shot off a vulgar symbols before returning to their meals. One got a bottle to the face in response.

"Shit boss."

"Keep yer god damned behavior you klojo. We have company. And Ladies." He looked back up at the newcomers and sighed.

"Haven't been here too long, 'bout a couple weeks or so. Don't really stay anywhere permanent, per se. Alliance just sends me where I'm needed. These chucklefucks though ... they been here practically three months now. Can't explain the blink, but I was on Elysium after the blitz. Had to help clean out the ones who decided to try and run in the mountains. Fun business that. Gave you free six packs for every set of quads we brought home. Biggs, what's that one for?"

One of the others, who by all appearances had been asleep the entire time so far, stood up and stretched as he walked over and put an arm around the mannequin. Like the others he looked grimy and tired, with his hair unkempt and a growing bear. He wore a shemagh around his neck, but there were no other noticeable accessories on him. He was wearing a fairly plain uniform set, the only real distinguishing piece was the lower side of a Blue Sun tattoo on his bicep.

"Well, listen here ladies and gentlemen as Bigsby tells you the story of our friend Blinkie. Well, several of my buddies and I were part of a brief, and very short lived, Alliance anti-Piracy gig that was running before Torfan all those years back. Long story short we get a heads up about some pissant sized colony on the edge of space that the Alliance really doesn't care about, but we still get sent in because of hearts and minds and everything. Myself, Aji there, Klarson to his right, and Zaroush who is that ugly asshole below me. The five of us against forty squints and their ship. They come flyin in, expecting to wreck everything and go to town. They landed in the center of the colony, whoopin' and hollerin' and raising this big old storm while we sat on a mountain 3 klicks away and nuked the fuckers." He stopped a second, letting that phrase sink in.

"Now this here Mannequin was actually the only thing that survived. Civies got out safe, and everything was hunky dory until the Alliance brass got made and cancelled our entire gig because no one likes the idea of nuking colonies to kill pirates. Still worth a good laugh though, in retrospect. So we get fired and sent of too the merc world. Then the squids happened, and the Alliance welcomed our type back with open arms." As he finished his story he looked over at Emma and gave a wink.

"Cardiff or Newport?" he asked, smiling at her.


Behind the barbeque Dano was just shaking his head.

"So what genius convinced all of you to join this joke of a mission anyways?" he asked, turning over what looked part of a rabbit.

Emma listened to the man's story as she took a swig of beer, it was warm, watery, and tasted like crap, yet it actually went well with the chicken.

Her opinion of the group Dano was heading though became less and less positive as he mentioned the part where they nuked a colony, that and the Blue Suns tattoo. Suddenly, having the asari contractor was more appealing.

The man asked her a question, seemed he was familiar with her homeland. "Cardiff" She said before answering Dano's question. "Well, part of the reason I signed on was to help make something of a difference. And seeing...well, this" Referencing the pleasant post-apocalyptic scenery around them "Is proof enough. With what just happened on the salarian homeworld, I'd say our job is more important then ever now."

She paused for a moment, then realized undoubtedly how corny that spiel was. "God, I sound like a recruiting ad, don't I?"

Rajapaske swallowed, smiling at the FNG to take the sting out of her words, "Just a bit." She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, regretting taking off her helmet in this heat already-at least the suit had climate control. The ballistic weave was rough against her skin, "Better reason than mine though."

At the man's story, she raised an eyebrow slightly. Nuking the enemy was...one solution and while they'd done similar things during the Reaper War, civilian infrastructure hadn't been a consideration then. The Reaper War had excused a lot of things. But then again, she'd never fought batarians. Just the Reapers and other humans.

To Dano's question she shrugged in reply, "Recon's been stuck doing patrols these past two years. I wanted to do something different." Another wry smile, "I'm PFC Rajapaske, Recon marksman."

If the Alliance wanted this to be their image towards the multipliers, so be it then. But couldn't that person speak in a language known to the wider galaxy? He didn't want to have sex with his cousin anymore because he now had a big chicken?

Freh'ya just hoped that was a translator error. Like him hunting and now grilling male reproductive organs earlier. When she saw what he did with the meat, she winched and hoped, he wouldn't just spit on it to spice it up. But she had finished her piece anyway and asari stomachs were second only to krogan, no need to worry.

But since Dano had insisted to drop formalities, she extended her right hand towards him, it was still a bit greasy from the meat. "Well then, Dano from now on, I'm Freh'ya."

When she noticed the blue sun tattoo on the mans arm, she flinched seriously. What the fuck... when she heard the story though, she had to grin. In fact it raised her opinion of them again. They had fought the same enemy she had for long decades, they had saved all lives and turned a very unfavorable situation around by unconventional means. Well, property damage. She knew one thing: If you went in after slavers - let alone a gang of forty at once - you better hit hard and not mess around. The tactic had been wrong, sending the team to that colony instead of hitting the slavers at their base. But that was not the team's fault, they had to go with the unfolding situation. At least he didn't prefer the suns shit over service for his species. The suns would pay better, that she knew so he must have something left intact in him. She'd give them credit for now and cheered towards him with a grin and a nod, before taking a big swig of the ... fluid.

"Someone thought this would be a perfect post to send a Council Military Exchange officer to. You know, all the advertising of how the Alliance runs things, showing a bit of country and culture." She chuckled. "Truth be told I signed up as available for the program and I wanted to see earth again, without robo-shrimps."

Sinisa smiled. These were definitely his kind of people. Dropping a colony just to get rid of some slavers might have sounded excessive, but it was the done thing. No self-respecting merc sticks their neck out when they don't have to - especially when the Alliance is picking up the tab. Something to remember, he reckoned. These guys were handy in a pinch, but don't expect them to die for you - or stand their ground when things go south.

Dano having introduced himself, the onus fell on them. Most were obvious: the marines practically screamed, "Die for the cause"; everyone these days seemed desperate to get themselves killed. The blue surprised him, though. Imagine taking an exchange post just to end up in this shithole, fighting to reclaim an alien city on an alien world? Sinisa gave her props for that. As for himself, he'd come here to get paid, get fucked and get shot. Preferably in that order.

"Call me Sasha," he said, idly scratching as his cheek scars, "I've been workin' UP in Mumbai for about thirty days on license with a big PMC. Decent pay, clean beds - but boring as shit. They offered me this op, with hazard pay to boot, and I leapt on it. Anything to get out of UP. Probably the longest I ever spent on Earth."

Well, what's left of it. He took another swig of beer, wiping his mouth against the duster.

"'Fore this, I was an indy working in the outer systems, mainly pickin' up work in the Terminus and the Verge."

Since Dano, and everyone else for that matter, were introducing themselves, Hueyt figured he should too.
"I am Warrant Officer Class One Alexander Hueyt, Australian Defence Force." Even through his thick Aussie accent, it wasn't hard to notice the emphasis he placed on the number. Being a very proud man, he didn't like it when people mistook his rank.
"I would prefer it if you addressed me as WO Hueyt, Warrant Officer Hueyt, or RSM. If you absolutely insist, I suppose you can just refer to me by my last name."

Hueyt, too, raised an eyebrow at Bigsby's story. As he listened, he (somehow) got a guantleted hand in one of the pouches on his webbing, quickly producing an energy bar. He snapped a bit off, plopped it in his mouth, and offered the rest to Freh'ya, having had seen her wince at the 'preparation' of the meat. When Biggsby finished his story, Hueyt didn't know if he really believed it, but, in fairness, the man didn't have any reason to lie. Still, truth or not, he didn't like the idea of nuking a colony just because there were pirates there, and he sure as hell didn't find it funny. Another thing to add to his mental list.

At Dano's question, he cocked his head to the side slightly.
"It was this or 'reconstruction'-" at the word, he used his hand for air quotes- "and I heard the rest of the world, or most of it, had fared a lot worse than where I was. I wanted to get out and make a difference. So I'm here."

The story reminded him of something that happened to him during the war and he spoke loud, addressing everyone.
"If we're telling stories, can I go next? I've got a bloody ripper."
He finished chewing, and, without waiting for a response, began talking.

"So, during the war, we- the 7th RAR, mechanised infantry- were sent pretty far into the outback to get a tribe of aboriginies. Evac them I mean. And these people, they hadn't modernised. They knew about the white people, but they decided to stick with their roots, and live off the land, wearing skins and all that. Anyway, we go out there, and one of my boys translates for me. I say, 'mate, you and your tribe need to move, we have to get somewhere safe. Godsquid and all that.' So my guy says something to the elder, the elder says something back, the translator turns to me and says 'sir, he said the bunyip will protect his people.'"

"So I stand there in disbelief, and after a few seconds, I go 'do you realise that the bunyip is a fictional story?' The elder replies 'this bunyip has protected my tribe since before the first white settler came.' So, to cut a long argument short, I tell my guys it's time to leave. So we pack up and leave, and, by this point, I consider them dead. It was sort of sad, to just leave them, but they weren't going anywhere, so I put 'em outta my mind and focus. Anyway, I make it through the war, and so does the guy who translated for me. One day, we're sitting there, and suddenly, we're told to check on an aboriginal tribe out there somewhere. Guess where I go.

"To the same tribe. Not only are they not missing anyone, there are two new babies. So, obviously, I'm shocked. I get my mate to translate, I ask what happened. It goes down to the elder, the elder looks back at me while my mate's translating, and guess what he said."
Hueyt got a big grin on his face as he delivered the next line, and looked around at everybody.
"I shit you not... He tells me the bunyip who lived in a nearby river protected them."
He chuckleed to himself, with the big grin still plastered on his face.

Cline chuckled at Hueyt's story. "Damn, I think i've got something just a bit more outrageous." he said with a grin.

The bespecticled combat engineer then turned to OpsChief Dano and the rest of his motley crew. "Service Chief Michael Cline, 9th Marine Regiment, Systems Alliance Marine Corps. Ended up here because of my knowledge of old tech, and my Biotics." Michael remarked with a shrug. "That, and I kind of volunteered willingly... It's kind of become a bad habit, I mean, I volenteered for Operation Salvations Bane before the war and I was a damn Reservist at the time! Ended up with both my legs broken by that Biotic Cult leader. But before that, I somehow managed to hit said psychotic cult leader with my rocket launcher." he explained, miming a holding a rocket launcher. "And yet, the fucker managed to live... Dude was more machine than man when we fought him, he ended up dying at the hands of one of his captives."

She took Hueyt's bar and nodded with a smile in apprecition. It tasted good and was fighting the bitter aftertaste of the beer-like beverage as she listened to his story.

Freh'ya turned to Cline.
"We should talk as soon we have time. If we are going out together we have to work in combination." She said that matter of factishly, the way she was used to organize and command her own group at home.
"I have never worked with a human biotic before. What is your specialty, are you a primer or a detonator?" She looked Cline up and down. He did not look like biotic CQC material, with his glasses even less.

Now this was promising, working with another species biotic was always widening the horizon. She had experience turians on her team and batarians and krogan as opposition. Time to get to know humans better.

It was at this point that Tendaji stood up and stretched, spitting in the ground at Freh'ya while muttering something under his breathe. He walked all of ten feet towards the latrines when he stopped, spinning around on one heel.
"Ay bigs, eef you wanna fuck'a I got a bunch of pills layin' about..."

The former Sun looked across to his compatriot and shook his head.

"Not interested in that, Aji. Just haven't met someone from home in awhile. I was born in Milford. Ain't seen it for ten years or so now... hope to get back soon."


Dano's music continued to blare out, even though it had only degraded into white noise. The veteran flipped another piece of meet, squinting his eyes at Vukovic.

"You guys hear somethin'?" He said, turning towards the wall of the FoB. Outside there were some groups of people milling about and seemingly trying to do some farming. Hemmings and Sellers were just now walking out of the building, looking over at the barbeque.


Bigsby's head exploded like a ripe melon as bits of flesh and blood sprayed onto Emma as his body went limp, falling to his knees then collapsing.


"Aw fuck. COVER! Rosco, that's on you you fookin' son of a bitch. Move!" Dano started shouting as a little alarm began ringing with a VI politely informing you of incoming mortar rounds.

The first one impacted directly onto the showers, kicking dust in the air. And in between the falling rounds, you could hear the rising shouts of enraged people beyond your walls.

"Well, I'll admit my biotics aren't that strong, So I'm more of a deten- SHIT! Cline yelled out as Bigsby's head exploded.

Cline, without a second's hesitation, hit the deck. Placing his glasses in one of the pouches on the front of his armor and putting on his Kestrel Helmet, thankful that he kept his weapons and gear on his armour. As if by instinct, he had his Hahne-Kedar Mk28 "Storm" EBR in his hands and his head on a swivel, looking for cover from snipers and mortar fire, as well as an opportunity to fire back.

"Heads down!" the Service Chief yelled out.

For being a FNG, Emma had seen death in her eyes before, being a survivor of both Cerberus' attempted putsch and the Reaper siege of the Citadel would do that to you. That being said, having portion's of what was once Bigsby's head splattered over her face left her in shock for a couple seconds. If it wasn't for Dano and Cline's barking for cover, it might have been longer, enough for the innie to line up a shot at her head.

Snapping out of it just in time, she joined the others scrambling for cover as the mortar rounds began leveling the FOB, cursing herself for leaving her helmet at the bunks.

Merrick frowned as the head exploded in front of him and then listened to see if anything else was happening as he made himself smaller and activated his kinetic barriers. He briefly pondered whether the angry people he was hearing beyond the wall were enraged at the base personnel or the persons doing the attack. Maybe there were crowds of both out there.

Regardless of what the crowd or crowds might be, he moved for cover, a pistol now in his hand and combat drone appearing as he moved.

A nod, a grunt of acknowledgement, a shrug here or there, even these gradually faded as the conversations went on and the Service Chief busied himself with his meal and half cold drink; leaving a sizable dark armored blindspot in the commons. He didn't contribute and nobody sought his opinion. He watched the others, eyes flicking up now and again to scan the sandy patch of dirt before returning to his plate and nobody cared enough to look back.

Except Dano of course. But then Bigsby's head was doing it's best impression of an exploding melon a few seconds later and he, and everyone else, was pretty naturally distracted.

When they looked back, if they looked back, they would see that the space where the marine had crouched was empty save for a plate of greasy bones and an empty bottle.

He was gone. Obviously. Nobody had seen him go, nobody had seen him leave, which was a pretty big fucking accomplishment given that he was pushing six and a half feet and two hundred plus pounds of muscle and armor.

Not a flinch, not even a blink, when Bigsby's head disappeared. He did, however, blink when he threw himself down. Emma wasn't the only cursing the decision to leave their helmet behind; the Warrant Officer was amazed at his stupidity. Seeing Dano in his boxers made him think 'safe'. Apparently, it just screamed 'insane'. Still, no time to dwell on it now. He had to move with the rest.

Tendaji and she would become best friends; she just felt it in her bones. What had to be said was said, no need to pay attention to him any further for now. She was listening to Cline’s reply when the attack hit. She saw that guy’s head explode only from the corner of her eyes, but her instincts kicked in before her mind was working the situation.

Biotic barriers flickered to life and she practically dragged Cline to cover with her. Away from the open courtyard, she was kneeling down next to a supply crate, close to the quarters. A quick check let her make sure that it wasn’t ammunition supplies. She then unfolded a biotic bubble, engulfing herself and Cline comfortably.

Everyone was hiding everywhere, no there was sand and small stones flying about but the barrier held them off easily. The mortar fire was not very precise – for now. In her field of vision was nothing that could provide as hideout for a sniper, other buildings of the FOB shielded them from outside view.

Reassessment of the situation! The people were just crazies obviously. If the situation had been this dangerous, hanging out in the open had been pure suicide. They had endangered everyone by making all the new arrivals careless.

Who was in command now? She saw others like Emma and Hueyt eying their gear near the bunks from their scattered positions. Her own Disciple was resting on her bag, the pistol was at her side.

“Stay close!” she ordered Cline. He could or could not follow but she wanted to offer the others a possibility to grab their equipment. Freh’ya inched around the corner of the big crate. A small sprint of a few meters to the wall of the next housing container. She was resting on one knee, extending the biotic sphere so it was just covering the bunks where most of them had put their stuff and trying to cover as much ground as possible towards Emma and Hueyt.

They still would have to cross a couple of meters of open ground for the relative safety of the bubble though. As long as the fire wasn’t really precise this was possible though.
She yelled at them as loud as she could. “Now! Hurry up!”

A fountain of dirt rained onto the biotic sphere, causing light blue ripples. Stretched like this it would withstand a near or direct hit but it would be enough for the flying splinters and dirt. The rising dust ruled out sniping by now anyway.

Where was the Commander?

It was never pretty to watch someone die, even if you'd only just met them. Instinct took over the moment the body fell and Rajapaske hit the dirt, reaching automatically for her rifle. The Mattock unfolded in her hands, a familiar weight, and it was second nature to plaster her eye to the scope to try and get a handle of the situation.

Of course they'd get attacked the moment she took off her helmet. Well. At least she had shields that should take a few bullets if not a mortar round. Though, if she got hit by a mortar round, it wouldn't matter if she was wearing a helmet or not. She dragged herself into cover since she couldn't see jackshit with her scope and was glad she'd kept her weapons with her. Not that she could do much with light arms and no visual.

Idly she thought, now we know. These men are crazy. Wonderful.

She was kicking herself for taking her helmet off though. FOBs were not necessarily safe. she knew that, but a year of fighting only disorganized gangs in less dangerous areas had made her complacent.

At the commando's shout at Hueyt and the FNG Rajapaske decided that having the extra protection of biotics sounded like a good idea. She lurched to her feet, tasting dirt kicked up by the rounds, and sprinted. She slid back into cover within the bubble, heart beating fast.

This was one hell of a welcome. Familiar adrenaline was creeping through her. She raised the marksman rifle again to try and get a stock of the situation but visibility was down to practically nil and thermal would really not help at this distance. Well. At least she could hopefully get a few shots from a distance in if the guys attacking were stupid enough to assault the FOB.

Now would be a really good time for their N7 commander to show up but she probably didn't dare move from wherever she'd gone to ground. Moving around at a time like this was pretty close to suicide.

As if on cue, as it always seemed to, the exact second everyone finally crawled into what cover they could find the mortar rounds ceased. Whether they were out of ammunition or something else, you don't know.

What you do know, is that a rather upset Dano was immediately seen strolling across the grounds carrying a Krysae in his hands before dumping in Freh'ya's bubble.

"Rosco and Klarson went and ate some mortar as a dessert, so I need one of you to pick this bastard off." He said before trotting out towards the open area. Sellers and Hemmings were still missing.

As for Dano? He stood in the open with his arms wide open, daring the sniper to fire at him.


"C'mon now you fookin' sepper lul. Gimme yer best shot. Right here you sonnubabitch. You think you can just fire on my FOB without gettin' Dano's attention? You think you can just go blowin the heads of my boys without makin' me angry. Well, I tell you something you bokkelul, Old Dano's gonna find you out there! Just you wait. But I wanna give you yer best shot. Right here you fucking flamoes." He pointed directly at the center of his forehead, exaggerating his actions as he seemingly ranted back and forth.

A round went right through Bigsby's mannequin, splitting it in half.


"Oh, that the best you can do? I'm right here you cross eyed, limped dicked piece of shit. C'mon and hit me. Old Dano's waiting!"

He glanced over at the Krysae.

As Emma wiped the blood off her face, she had to correct her previous assumption of Dano, the man wasn't eccentric so much as he was absolutely batshit insane. She was thankful the mortars had stopped for the moment.

She had kept her Valkyrie on her person when the assault began, but she didn't feel confident to take the shot, given that she was more likely to miss from whatever distance was between them and the sniper.

For now, Emma felt the best she could do was stay in cover and await orders.