[Eden Prime] Agincourtless (Closed)

Ekman felt like a changed man, and - frankly - he was. He was now a family man, a married man, a father. He remembered all the times when people - his friends and colleagues - had told him that having kids changed everything, and every time Gus had thought that to be just bullshit. But it was true, in a wonderful way. For the first time in his life, he’d felt like he’d done something truly and purely good, created something beautiful and lovely, rather than destroy something. For the longest of times he’d not felt genuinely good about anything in life, but now everything felt fantastic. He was truly happy and content.

His step was light, almost bouncy, made so by the thoughts of his family. He could still see in his head both his wife, Annie, and his kid, Peter, both waving - the latter with the help of his mother - him goodbye as he’d left for work 10 minutes ago. He’d spent his 18 days of father’s leave immediately after Peter’s birth, and it had been the time of his life. It had been hard to go back, but the knowledge of seeing them again in just a few hours made it loads easier.

He’d see them both again soon.

He smiled.

During his leave, he’d managed to explore the garrison for a quite a bit, and knew his way around there surprisingly well for a man who’d not been working there almost at all. As his feet brought him closer and closer to his unit’s barracks, he began feeling a slight excitement, began wondering at the surprises he’d most likely face there... Things never were the same after a unit got transferred.

About a month ago, the 1st Platoon of Echo Company, 2/4 Marines, had left behind its long partnership with the Alliance Navy vessel SSV Agincourt, and been redeployed to a rather famous human colony of Eden Prime. It was of course famous - or infamous - for having borne two intense conflicts in the last five years; the Eden Prime attack by Saren and his geth, then a few years later an attack made by Cerberus. The colony was in shambles.

And 1st Platoon was there/here to help...

Except the colonists weren’t particularly keen on that. There had been plenty of unrest already all around the garrison, and Gus was sure that only a trickle of that had ever reached his ears. Graffitis on walls, saying things like ‘Free Eden Prime,’ ‘Alliance Not Wanted,’ or even more frightening ones like ‘Freedom or Death.’ That was also the reason why Gus knew the garrison so well; he really didn’t want to venture outside...

News reports kept calling things ‘slightly tense,’ and that all the vandalism were ‘isolated incidents’ and that the people responsible were ‘a few radicals.’

But Gus wasn’t stupid. This was exactly the kinda stuff he’d seen on Earth’s nation states, where rebel armies were battling against each other for various reasons, usually nationalism or separatism... Ekman was hoping that it wasn’t coming to that, but things definitely were more than ‘slightly tense.’

Especially since his family was here.

The thought eroded all the happiness from his mind.

Ekman stepped through the doors leading to his unit’s barracks, noticing a marine he didn’t recognise sitting behind the Duty NCO’s desk. The pale, thin Private seemed half-awake as Gus approached and then came to a halt in front of the desk.

The marine snapped to his feet, toppling over his chair. “Sir!” he rang as his hand formed a salute.

Ekman stopped immediately, staring at the Private incredulously, beginning to feel even more sour than before. “Since when do we salute non-commissioned officers, Private?” he asked strictly, beginning to scowl. “Didn’t know I was promoted.”

A quick beat, then the marine adjusted himself. “Sorry Chief, won’t happen again. The Second Lieutenant is in his office.”

Ekman’s scowl made even deeper furrows onto his face. “I didn’t ask.”

“Just figured Service Chief, a lot doesn’t happen here, and when it does its one of very few things.”

“I don’t care what you figure, Private....” his eyes quickly darted to the man’s nametag. “...Dortsev or whatever your name is. If a lot doesn’t happen, then I reckon we should handle those things that do happen even better than normal, yes?”

The marine’s face fell flat. “Yes, Service Chief.”

Gus turned about abruptly on his feet, then started towards the Platoon Leader’s office, annoyed. It didn’t take long to find it, so he knocked on the door, heard the call to step inside, did so, snapped to attention and saluted...

Then realised who was sitting behind the LT’s desk.

It was better than a station. She’d been to Eden Prime before, years and years ago, and always remembered the smell. Fresh and grassy, compared to Terra Nova’s ice and rainy.

It’d been awhile since she’d been able to climb trees... So she took advantage of it - every off duty moment she had, she sat in a tree, or in the grass, or a bench in someone’s garden, tablet in her hand.

Today, it was a tree. And she was hanging upside down, boot toes curled around a branch as she tilted the screen in front of her, hoping that perhaps, just maybe, a different perspective might help. Maybe. Different perspectives were always helpful, right? New eyes? Something like that - though she really hoped she didn’t have to get actual new eyes. Cybernetics were kinda creepy and sorta kinda expensive, all just to figure out a problem. New point of view might have been a more appropriate way of saying stuff, but then, that might not actually be what they - whomever “they” were - meant.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Either way, it wasn’t working, even when she held the screen upside down. Or was it right side up, since she was already upside down, braided hair swinging in the breeze and making her wish she’d remembered to put it up in the standard issue bun before she decided to climb the damn tree.

“Alright, Kat?” she heard a familiar call. She turned her head towards the voice, finding some strands of her hair wandering into her mouth, but also seeing Edward leaning against the same tree. His features, as they’d been ever since Earth, were very heavy.

He’d been all broody and stuff since London. More nightmares, less friendly... made her worried, he snapped at everyone all the time now. “Reading,” she mumbled, spitting the hair out of her mouth and making a face at it. “Makes no sense.”

“Don’t hang upside down,” he suggested, with his nowadays usual quiet monotone.

“It stopped making sense before I was hanging upside down.”

“Probably doesn’t help.”

“New eyes.”

Edward raised a single eyebrow. “Huh?”

“See things different, make more sense of them. Or something.”

He snorted in response, then grunted. “I’ll never understand your logic.”

Bleh. This wasn’t working, and he was being a distraction, so she closed out the screen and handed him the tablet, before letting go of the branch and landing squarely on her feet and taking the pad back. “Did you want something?”

“You got any security shifts today?” the other asked. “Don’t remember if we have the same one.”

“1600. And yes, you’re on with me.” She frowned at him, before sitting in the grass. “Not usually forgetful.”

Edward remained standing. “Just stuff. Is it the outside patrol or inside? Or gate?”

“Outside...never did one before, though.” She tilted her head at him. “Be nice to see the colony again.”

Edward snorted loudly. “Nice, innit? Reckon you should mention that to Johnson, who someone threw a bottle at. The bloke was lucky he was wearing a helmet. And KBs.”

She blinked. “...They threw a bottle at him?” she asked quietly. Granted, she didn’t remember too much about Eden Prime, but...the people had been nice. At least until they realized she was a biotic, but they were still nice-ish. And they liked Alliance people, she thought. She remembered being there for some of the whole patriotic Alliance festivals and stuff.....lots of crowds and cheering and... And now, not so much. Last week, someone had covered the walls in graffiti, and threw a rock at the gates and set off the alarms...

“Someone did. I don’t reckon it’s the last one that’s gonna happen either,” he shrugged. “Which is why I wouldn’t use the word ‘nice’ to describe the place.”

“Used to be nicer,” she admitted, biting her lip. She remembered the last time she’d done an “outside” patrol - the docks of the Citadel. That time, she’d ended up in C-Sec with Paraone, watching a turian give her scary looks and wishing she’d been born un-biotic. Now... she heard some of the other colonists in the unit talking about how they were called traitors for wearing a uniform... She fidgeted, now kinda happy that Edward was gonna be out there with her.

“A lot of places used to be nicer,” he grunted quietly. “Such is life.”

“Guess so.” London, Grissom, Eden Prime....probably Terra Nova and all the other places, too. She looked up at him, frowning. “You okay? Had a bad nightmare last night?”

“They aren’t getting better,” he replied, turning to leave. “I’ll see you on patrol.”

“Edward...”

He turned, then left, not replying. She sighed, picking up her tablet again and climbing back into the tree, making sure her boot toes were securely lactched onto the branch before flipping over it again. A small part of Kat wondered what Edward had been like before he became a marine, him and everyone else - “nothing’s the same.”

She didn’t really know the difference.

It was pretty damn funny when you thought about it. The man who described himself as a lifer NCO, who ranted and raved about the failings of the officer corps, who had joked about field commissions as “turning to the dark side” had proven himself to the biggest hypocrite in the entire Systems Alliance Marine Corps.

Second Lieutenant Mike Tritt.

Nope. Still not used to that. Still not used to the salutes, to having rooms called to attention at his entrance. Still not used to the obscenely shiny rank insignia, to the (admittedly good) accommodations and booze at the officer’s club, still not used to the jockeying for power and favor.

Still not used to this office. To this fucking desk.

Did all infantry officers wind up having desks?

Hell if he knew. He could still hear Halley laughing her ass off when he’d told her he’d accepted this commission, so Mike had put on what she called his “NCO face” and told her that they wouldn’t watch one of those spy movies they both loved if she kept that up. So she’d shut up. Fortunately they’d already come to terms with his new orders---otherwise that evening would have been pretty awkward.

Fortunately, the universe seemed fairly bent on making things awkward with the revelation of his new platoon sergeant. “Hello Gus,” he said, returning the salute. “Deja-vu, eh?”

The man in front of him dropped the salute, still staring at him, looking extremely incredulous. “You’re... an officer now?”

“Field commission. Apparently Command felt that after Earth they needed some good experienced officers at the small-unit level, so they offered me my gold bars.” Mike shook his head. He still had trouble believing it himself---when the Staff LT had offered it to him he’d thought the man had been playing a joke on him. “I accepted...and here I am.”

“Right...” drawled Gus simply, now crossing his arms. “Well, I fuckin’ ain’t gonna salute you or call you sir. If you think otherwise, you’re more of a nutter than I recall...”

Mike smirked. “So should I ignore that last salute?”

“I didn’t know you’d betrayed our kind.”

“Would you rather be under another weak-chinned academy wonder?”

Gus shrugged. “Right now it’s under another weak-chinned academic enlisted wonder...”

Tritt’s smirk became a smile. Some things never changed. “How’s Annina? And your boy?”

“Oh, they good,” said the other man, visibly cheering up immediately. “How’s Halley? Still suffering from the temporary craziness of datin’ you?”

Mike grinned as he always did at the mention of his girlfriend. “I’m afraid that disease has been pronounced incurable.”

“Ja, things sometimes are...” Ekman nodded, then became more serious. “How’re things here? Seems a bit hostile, to be honest.”

“To put it mildly,” said Tritt, smile disappearing. “The locals aren’t happy about the Alliance hanging them out to dry during the Reaper Wars...there’s demonstrations pretty much every other week. And they don’t always disperse peacefully.”

“No isolated incidents then, hey?” asked the other, raising his eyebrows and not looking remotely surprised.

“Isolated?” Mike snorted. “Hardly. It’s a trend, and not one the brass are keen on.”

Nor were he and his men. Dispersing riots was a messy business at best, and it made it even worse when the rioters were throwing bricks and bottles at them. Especially when the pissed-off parties scored a hit---Johnson had been lucky he’d had a helmet while walking the perimeter, else that brick would’ve had nasty results.

“So I figured. Reading between the lines an’ all...” muttered Gus. “Hope it won’t go proper bad...”

Then snorted. “Didn’t even bring my sjambok...”

Mike’s only answer was a taut smile. Baton rounds had been issued after Johnson got bricked. A sensible measure, yes, but one he’d prefer to avoid. Firing on civilians was bad for morale. “I think Command’s got us better alternatives.”

Gus chuckled dryly, then said surely, “Pain makes politics lose importance.”

Yeah. No kidding. It was a miracle the demonstrations had remained peaceful so far, with all the ire stirred up on this planet. One day, soon, his men were going to have to defend themselves. And the results wouldn’t be pretty---but if it came down to a pissed-off rioter with a brick and one of his Marines, Mike knew which one he’d pick.

“Mm,” he said. There wasn’t much else to be said.

It was kind of funny, looking back at the things she’d taken for granted. Things that came like breathing, thoughtless things until they weren’t anymore and you were waking up in a field hospital somewhere.

The trick with getting the uniform on was to lean against something, like the dresser (austere like everything else in the little prefab) and use one hand to hold yourself up while you slid on the pants. One leg at a time. And then hobble back over and grab the shirt and jacket. Always use the left hand to do up the buttons, because the right was still clumsy and didn’t quite fit.

Whenever she did something the hand would catch at her eyes. Skin grafts were expensive they said. Would take up resources needed for the millions wounded they said. She’d accepted that. But she couldn’t help but look at it, couldn’t help but remember that it wasn’t really part of her.

She flexed her fingers. The cool, smooth titanium alloy that felt nothing like skin gleamed in the low light of her bedroom. The joints were sharp, bright, artificial red with the wires humming inside. Often they shone through the gloves she wore off duty.

She curled the warm fingers of her real hand around her crutch, levered herself up. Examined herself in the mirror. There were shadows under her eyes if you looked closely. But she was First Sergeant now. She had to be squared away, professional. Even if she had trouble walking.

Especially because of that.

The mirror cast her face back at her. Her uniform hung off her-she didn’t remember that-and her uniform patches were the wrong colour. She still remembered when the Staff Lieutenant (not Bravo Company’s Lieutenant, because he was dead with a Banshee’s claws through him) had told her. Her fists balled, her fingernails were sharp against her remaining organic palm.

They’d disbanded the 1/10th without so much as a ‘by your leave’ and had shuffled them all off to other units. To fill the holes because it wasn’t practical to restaff the battalion. And then they’d given her a promotion, said ‘congratulations’, as if it was not merely an apology for the fact that she couldn’t return to her duties.

She wanted to punch something. But no. Her body was fragile right now, it was healing, she couldn’t walk without a fucking cane. Anger was good. Something real.

She tightened her fingers around the stupid thing and walked from the partitioned ‘bedroom’ and into the more communal areas of the prefab. Tap. Tap. Tap. Gave her a bloody headache.

Kaseka was sitting with Hope, getting the girl ready for school. She looked tiny in her uniform, her school bag was almost as big as she was. As she passed, she gently ruffled the girl’s hair. The kid still shied away from the cybernetic one, and Nat couldn’t blame her.

The baby was in the pram, her little blue face scrunched up when Nat looked down at her daughter, her fists curled, her crest still unformed and soft. She looked so delicate, so tiny that she couldn’t quite believe she’d had a hand in her creation.

“Hey sweetheart,” She whispered, ran a finger gently along Shiori’s cheek, very aware of the roughness of her hands, the calluses.

“You’re going to work?” Kaseka asked, coming to stand beside her.

“Yeah.”

“You alright getting there?”

“It’s just across the base,” The words were sharp between them. A pause, “I’m not sure what time I’ll be getting home. Don’t wait up for me.”

She was closing the door behind her, drawing the air of Eden Prime into her lungs. It was…pleasant. Eden Prime screamed pleasant. It made her miss home.

Time to get to work in any case. Just had to make it across the base.

She made it halfway through the barrack’s courtyard before anything unusual happened. It was not exactly rare to see some of the younger enlisted hanging around outside off-duty. It was extremely rare to see them literally hanging around. Upside down, even. Reading.

Nat raised an eyebrow, Why are you in a tree, Marine?” She’d seen some strange things over her career. But Marines climbing trees and then reading books in them-that was new.

“Problem solving, Gunnery Chief,” the private answered, voice soft and dream-like.

“Upside down?”

“Yes, Gunnery Chief.”

Right. Okay. “Solving what?”

“Continuous center of mass, Gunnery Chief.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m the First Sergeant,” Boy was that weird to say, “Gunnery Chief Natalie King.” Well. The CO was saying to ought to get to know the marines. Since that was now her job and all that.

“Private Katrina Nidawi, Gunnery Chief.” The teenager looked up from her datapad, violet eyes studying Nat for a moment, before returning to her...problem. “First platoon, one-alpha, Gunnery Chief.”

Talkative type. Nat remembered reading her service record. “I’ll leave you to your...problem then, private.” That was...interesting.

“Aye-aye, Gunnery Chief.”

With a slightly askance look at the private, Nat continued her walk to her office. And the ‘tap-tap’ of her cane followed her.

That wasn’t a particularly enthusiastic reply, thought Gus, raising his eyebrows.
“Take it you don’t like the stuff going on here?”

It wasn’t much of a surprise, really, because Mike had always been a bit of softie. Understanding, forgiving. Gus sometimes thought of him as terribly naive, but nobody could ever question that the new Lieutenant’s heart was in the right place.

““Acting like a police force? One that might be called to fire on civvies? No, not really.”

“They’re doing it first. With them bricks and all. Is it?”

““Yeah they are,” Tritt said with a sigh. ““Still bad for morale.”

“That’s my problem, mate.”

His platoon leader gave him a piercing stare. ““Would you fire if given the order?”

Gus stared back, feeling a sense of annoyance surfacing, then being pressed back. He let the rest of that out with a soft growl. “I’ve been around. I know the difference between a protester and a rioter.”

He paused, looking serious. But if it comes down to a choice between me and some doos with a rock, it ain’t gonna be me.”

But even if he seemed serious and sure from outside, Gus did wonder how well he’d sleep after something like that. And he was sure it wouldn’t be soundly.

Apparently Tritt didn’t have as much qualms. ““Good. Anybody threatens the safety of you guys you light ‘em the fuck up.”

Gus did raise his eyebrows slightly, having expected an argument. That was new.

But before Gus could comment on that, the door to the room opened.

Nat was to be honest, she didn’t mind this job as much as she’d thought she would. Sure it wasn’t a frontline billet like she was used to, but there was something to be said for what she was doing now. Her days were busy, choked full and there wasn’t much room left in her head. She preferred it that way.

Tritt (she still found it hard to remember it was Lieutenant Tritt now, and yeah, it was pretty funny) had just gotten his new PSG and she was to go see how he was doing. Not that she expected problems. He wasn’t some butterbar just out of the Academy that thought he was hot stuff.

She opened the door to Tritt’s office and stopped, seeing the PSG was in there with him.. She snapped off a quick salute-she didn’t mind too much with Tritt, since he’d actually been in longer than her and he had been enlisted. “Am I interrupting? Sir.” If there was a touch of sly amusement on the word it didn’t show on her face

The newly-minted officer made a face, but waved at his PSG. “Not at all, Top. Gus? Gunnery Chief Natalie King, our first sergeant. Top, Service Chief Gus Ekman, my PSG.”

She nodded to Ekman, “Good to meet you, Chief. Settling in alright?”

“No,” said the petite, blonde man, whose voice didn’t seem to fit him at all; it was rough and low, a voice of a much larger man. His intense, pale blue eyes stared at her. “The locals are a bit restless, and don’t really fancy that.”

Well, least he was honest and not like those sorts who just went along with the everyday answers. She met his gaze, “Yeah, not too keen on that myself.”

The...comments Kaseka had received while they’d been here worried her as well. She couldn’t remember Eden Prime being like this before the war. But then again, the war had changed a helluva lot of things. And she wasn’t sure how many of those changes were for the better. She scratched her shoulder, where her new tattoo itched under her uniform jacket. But they still had to do their job.

“Been in the service for long?” the man asked, still staring at her.

She nodded, “Yeah, since I was eighteen.” Ah yes, fresh out of high school and bright with idealism. Not that had lasted long, “Yourself?”

“Ever since -68... What’s that... 20 years next year, hey?”

She said, “Glad to have you onboard, Chief.”

“Glad to finally do something...” muttered the other. Nat suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow at the guy.

Tritt cast an awkward glance at Ekman before returning his attention to Nat. “Anyway, something I can help you with, Top?”

She shrugged, “Just checking up on everyone. How’s the platoon doing?”

The former Gunny’s face hardened. “As well as can be expected with a guy who took a concussion from a rock to the head.”

Nat grimaced, “Yeah. How’s he holding up, LT?”

“Again, as well as can be expected.” Tritt shook his head. “Johnson’s pretty pissed, but he’ll be OK within the week.”

“Good to hear,” Was all she said. A lot of the Marines were talking, and that sort of talk helped stir up anger and then the colonists got angry at the anger. Like a fucking cycle. She just hoped the place didn’t get too tense, for her family’s sake.

Ekman had crossed his arms as the First Sergeant started talking with Tritt, simply observing them both. Both of them were younger than him, yet of a higher rank. It was sorta backwards, come to think on it, but then again Gus had joined the Alliance a lot later than either of those two.

But the Top was still quite young, several years - perhaps ten - younger than Ekman himself, yet still rather ragged, battleworn. But even despite those injuries, he still couldn’t help but start thinking of her as a... ‘girl’. Maybe even the squeamish kind he’d sometimes met... hopefully not.

He decided to test her, try and provoke a reaction. It was good to immediately establish whether or not he’d have a problem with the people he was going to work with.

So he interrupted, “I reckon we should just gear up on those baton rounds and just let loose at all of them aspiring pitchers.”

She raised an eyebrow, shifting so she could look at him better. Her eyes had a kind of tired a lot of soldiers had in their eyes these days, “Tempting,” She said dryly, “But it’ll just make the situation worse. And I’d rather not have any more injured soldiers from clashes with the citizenry, unless things have gone to hell and the brass won't tan our arses for ‘increasing tensions’.”

“Well, looking at the graffitis and general unrest, I’d say things are going towards hell at a brisk pace...”

“Maybe,” She conceded, “But we open fire with baton rounds and you bet to hell we’ll be cast as the bad guys. And I dunno about you, but the last war was enough for me. Might get there on it’s own, but once we lose the moral high ground...” She paused, “Hearts and minds, Chief. Hearts and minds.”

Gus brushed her off, “Always with that kak. Understanding, stick and carrot... When I was little and did something wrong, my father put me over his knee and beat the livin’ daylight out of me with a sjambok. Never did me any harm.”

“Nothing I’d like better than to find the fucks that threw that rock, Chief,” She said flatly, “Show ‘em pictures of what happened to Earth and the billions living in tents and prefabs while they get so offended ‘cause they’re not getting a big enough cut. But the difference between that analogy and what’s going on, is that if we open fire first, the media will fucking crucify us. The colonists will get support. They’ll protest ‘brutality’ even while they throw stones and fuck knows what else at us. If we lose the colonies, Earth is fucked. The Alliance is fucked.”

Ekman raised his eyebrows, “So what? This is Operation ‘Bend over and take it up the arse’, eh?”

There was a slight flicker of irritation in her eyes but it didn’t show on her face, “It’s called being smart and remembering our own limitations. We’ve got a ruined homeworld relying on the colonies and a military that’s got massive amounts of casualties. We’d win, but the whole point of SATAE and military law is to make humanity stable, yeah? Using force against civilians, even ones that deserve it, will just create more opposition. And then you’ll be getting more than one man getting a knock on the head.”

“Ja, ja,” mumbled Gus, brushing her off again. “I get it. Not good and all. Ain’t gonna like it even so.”

Tritt was watching the two with the face of a man sucking on a particularly sour lemon. “Alright, you two, debate’s over.” Ordinarily a boot LT wouldn’t presume to give orders to a Gunnery Chief, but the rules tended to get bent a bit for mustangs. “Top, if you don’t mind I need to plan out tomorrow’s patrol with my PSG. If there won’t be anything else?”

She shook her head, “Nothing else. Just checking up on the platoon.” And as abruptly as she’d entered, she left the office.

Well, that could’ve gone better. Mike hadn’t known King personally before the posting to Eden Prime, but he’d interacted often enough with her on the Extranet to know that the woman was a rather...intense sort. She took the whole “honor and duty” thing just as seriously as Mike had, once upon a time. Thing was King could be much much more vocal about it than Tritt.

This was going to be awkward.

He glanced over at Gus. “Well, she’s definitely not the pompous chicken.”

The other snorted. “You got that right. The girl is a bit serious...”

Mike gave him a taut smirk. “Makes me look positively unmotivated.”

Gus scowled slightly. “I guess she’s right though... The journos are always just looking for an excuse to fuck the military.”

“‘Course they are." There’d been rumors of a potential embed coming to join up with Alpha Company, but chances were with the current attitude of the civvies, that wasn’t going to come through. Things kept going the way they did, the press corps’ opinion of the Marines was likely to go downhill fast.

Probably best to change the subject before the conversation did likewise. “So how’s Annina liking Eden Prime?”

“She likes it,” he muttered. “Especially people yelling and fighting outside durin’ nights, and seeing the anti-Alliance graffitis...”

He then looked very sour. “This planet sucks balls.”

“Not even an Afrikaans slur for the occasion? Damn you must hate it here.”

“Hate the people more, hey...” he said, looking even grumpier, if such was possible. [color=yellow]“I reckon the people are full of shit that that’s why it’s comin’ out of their beks...”

“Not surprised.” Mike shot him a sly look. “So is Peter gonna be having playdates with Top’s kids?”

The Platoon Sergeant looked surprised,[color=yellow]“The girl’s married? She’s like ten years younger than me, man...”

Mike had to laugh at that. “Yeah. Bonded to an asari, for a fair bit now.”

And Gus looked even more surprised. “To an... asari?”

Then slightly repulsed, which he tried to hide, “That’s bloody grand, alright...”

“People love who they love,” said Mike with a shrug, inwardly wincing. He should’ve known better than to reveal that to his hoary PSG. Gus was quite the throwback in some ways. Amongst them was his rather conservative mentality. “She’s shown she had what it takes during the war.”

“Well... as long as she knows what she’s doing, I’m not sommer making any trouble...” he said indifferently. “You know me, boet: all for them bloody chances...”

“Hey, you gave Nidawi one.”

The man stared back blankly. “Exactly.”

FIN