Glimpses into the Past, Present or Future

Tuchanka's Hope Neutral Ground, First day Day of Aralakh's Wrath, 2187

"Are you sure about this? I mean...about us?" Phobus asked. The group of five were sitting in the volunteer quarters, scattered about. The drell was sitting at a table with Calsus and Reina, a battered deck of cards in his hands.

"I count you all as members of my krantt." The young krogan growled, standing in front of the small table with his arms crossed. He spared a glance to the human that was staring blankly at a data pad and laying on a cot nearby. "Even her. I need a krantt help me through the Rite, and I thought of you guys."

"What is even supposed to happen in a Rite?" Reina asked, the asari reaching out boredly for the cards that Phobus was dealing. "If it's all strippers and guns, count me out."

"And count me in." Calsus muttered under his breath. Reina shot a glare at the turian, who looked up from his cards innocently. "What?"

Prask growled, and snatched the cards from the three aliens. "Look. This is important to me. It's my Rite into adulthood, and I need you all there. I know I can trust you all at my back."

"Even Eps over there?" The asari jerked a thumb at the human, who merely glanced over for a moment. "She threw you in a waste vat!"

Prask nodded once, and the asari sighed. "Fine. Count us in."

Urdnot Clan Grounds, Eighth Day of Aralakh's Wrath, 2187

"One human was enough to spit on our traditions. But a krantt full of aliens?" An Urdnot scout had been grumbling nearby. "Shepard was special. These aliens, I'm not so sure."

Reina shot the krogan a dark look, but Phobus nudged her side, glancing at the Shaman talking with Prask. Epsilon and Calsus were standing with their friend, the latter attempting to convince the shaman while the former merely stood with her thumbs in her pockets.

"One of them is a turian. They ruined Tuchanka...perhaps I should teach him a lesson. Rip his plates off with my bare hands..." The scout continued within hearing range. Reina snarled.

Three biotic blows crashed into the scout. Epsilon had her cybernetic raised in a fist, a blue glow surrounding it, her back still on the scout. Calsus had extended one talon, pointing at the scout as he glared angrily, and Reina had both hands up. The combined force of all three were more than enough to knock him off his feet and out the window. Epsilon headed to the window so that she could look outside, but considering that it was only a one story drop... "He's getting up again. Wanna do that again?" her speech-to-text program commented.

The shaman watched the display with humor in his eyes. A few minutes later, he allowed the all-alien krantt in the rite.

Urdnot Proving Grounds, Ninth Day of Aralakh's Wrath, 2187

"WHY IS THERE A THRESHER MAW IN THIS?!" Phobus screamed in terror as he ran from cover to cover, blindly firing at the direction of the Maw with a crappy little SMG. "YOU KROGAN ARE INSANE!!!"

"Stop your whining, Phobus, and help us!" Calsus shouted as he, Epsilon, and Reina launched three heavy slams at once, the attacks barely phasing the Maw. A glob of acid forced the three biotics to scatter. "We only have to survive for a few minutes, so help us out!"

Epsilon's omnitool spoke up. "One minute remaining. Someone get Prask, he's having too much fun."

Indeed, there was a roar of laughter coming from the krogan, who grabbed a heavy rocket launcher from the side, probably left by some whelp who died in the rite, and charged at the maw. Calsus let out a small swear as he ran after the krogan.

"Help!" Phobus shouted, and Epsilon looked. The cover the drell had been hiding behind crashed down around him, and a chunk of concrete had him pinned. The human ran over, releasing one biotic blast to knock the concrete off so she could inspect the drell's injuries. "My leg is killing me."

The maw was getting ready to spit another acid gob. Epsilon grit her teeth together and yanked the drell up, a blue glow surrounding her arms as she lightened the weight of the injured man, pulling him onto her back in a sort of piggy-back. She started to run.

Nine seconds, Prask found a good firing spot.
Eight seconds, Calsus was shouting at him to get in cover.
Seven, the maw spat as Prask fired
six, the spit arched through the air as the rocket flew at it
five, the spit hit the ground just as Epsilon ran away from the spot.
four. the rocket collided with the maw.
three, the maw screeched in pain.
two, it burrowed once more.
One...all was quiet.

"...Did we win?" Phobus asked nervously. Epsilon glanced at the timer, which indeed indicated the rite was over. Then she dropped her friend to the ground and ignored his yelp of surprise and pain.

In the eyes of the krogan, all of them were now adults. Hopefully now, Thaig wouldn't object to her working in his bar.

The year is 2313.

Near a cliff overlooking the vast eastern ocean of Bekenstein, a small graveyard sits on the grounds of a rebuilt estate- Centuries old, destroyed in an era of great conflict with old machines from the outskirts of the galaxy. The family that lived here died here that day. The vast glass and steel monuments of wealth and power were torn down by the old machines, who left little standing in their wake. Their war lasted another year after the planet's destruction- When the Shepard finally ended the war.

With the life they'd hoped to live on this planet gone, two refugees fled, thinking they would never see their home again, and the fear of never seeing one another due to the nature of their departure. When their home burned, humanity's shield was stoking the fires. It would be decades before they returned home- Before they saw their house rebuilt and before they'd live out their final days in the sun.

A sole figure stands at the graves, lowering a bouquet of flowers. The man kneels down, setting his mother's dog-tags upon her gravestone.

The Most Illuminated Laykalar floated in the soothing waters, taking the opportunity to relax. He had finished reading another round of reviews of his latest book, a response to the probing inquiry of critics regarding his memoirs of seven years prior. The memoirs had provoked elegant but somewhat controversial debate among the sects in which they'd been released, creating as they did a complex argument for both the greater truths of the integrated galaxy and the need for caution regarding its dangers. As was common for hanar writers, he had since been called upon to respond to the concerns of his learned and not-so-learned readers, so as to better illuminate the varied layers of truth he hoped to convey. As ever, it was a delight to engage in multi-tiered argument within decorous structure, for all that his time in the wider galaxy had encouraged re-examination of some of those standards. In fact, such was one undercurrent of his current philosophy that had proven controversial.

In truth, crafting an argument for the validity of his conclusions regarding the wider galaxy was less of a challenge than an exercise in nostalgia. How intense those early years had been! He had danced in the wake of the greatest storm his people had ever known, immersed in a new sea of wonder and endless discovery, too awestruck to know what he was doing. He flashed on and off, in the hanar equivalent of a chuckle. Oh, how excitable he'd been!

After the turbulent years of his youth and his many adventures (in truth, sometimes misadventures) in the galaxy at large, it had been surprisingly agreeable to return to Kahje, to immerse once more in the lower encompassing, this time saturating it with knowledge and experience accumulated with pride - and not a little humility, given some of his mistakes. Oh, he still made visits to other worlds, always satisfied to see his people interacting with the wider galaxy, building on the reefs of others to bring ever more illuminated discourse into play. There had been quite the upheaval in terms of hanar tourism, and it was gratifying to think he might have had a small role to play in that. After all, he was there at the first swell of the second tide, as his people moved past the Darkening toward new waters. True, those waters had been murkier than he'd anticipated, but - and another chuckle emerged - what wisdom attended one without youthful mistakes to reflect it off?

It was best he take this opportunity to relax. He would be leaving again soon - there was a most pleasant invitation from the department of xenosociology at Vot Tenno Academy on Irune, regarding a guest appearance. He wouldn't want to be tired, for discussions with the faculty and students at Vot Tenno were always greatly rewarding, and informative.

He found himself thinking of his first conversation with the being who'd gone on to found the current department. Yes, that gave him the spark of an idea. He had yet to share his thoughts on the strange custom that had necessitated the meeting. He shimmered in amusement. What fun that had been! As a young hanar he had entirely misunderstood the intent of the rite.

Yes, he would start on an outline tonight.

There were voices still waiting to be added to that ever-illuminating chorus.

There always would be.

It had been a month, or maybe two since she'd woken here, in this place that had been a school once, one of those expensive private places that churned out lawyers and politicians and had scandals every few years. Now it was lined with beds, and in the spaces between them lay others, and the doctors and medics had to step over some of their charges.

Time here was measured in bandage changes, injections and the crinkled voice of her doctor asking-how are you today, Chief?-but it had been about a month when the nurse came to her, wearing a plastic smile.

"How are you, Gunny?" She piped. She was a civilian,claimed by the military much in the same way they'd claimed this school, and the military nickname didn't sit right on her tongue, but she tried, and Nat had to give her that. Her face had that slackness of seeing things that didn't make sense. She was pretty though; the sort of woman a younger Nat might've flirted with.

On the chain around her neck were her dogtags and her wedding ring. The bondmate bracelet had been around the wrong wrist.

She fumbled at them, and stared at the nurse apathetically, feeling the smooth curve of soft metal, the flatness of harder.

King, Natalie J. 867 DT 031. A Positive. United Church in Australia. And a bit of metal to say 'I loved someone'.

The nurse's smile never faltered, "The doc says I can take you outside for a bit. Would you like that?"

The incisions from the operation ached along with the still healing gashes and burns. The story of the war written across her back and side.

"Sure," Nat said quietly. Her voice was rusty and cracked off at the end.

The nurse blinked, then kept on smiling, "Alright then. Mind sitting up for me, Chief?"

She pushed herself up with her remaining arm, biting her lip against the burn that raced up her side and back. She shoved the covers down herself, her dog tags and ring clattering against her collarbone, and the nurse briskly reached down and tugged her legs over the side of the bed.

Nat didn't feel her hands.

There was a brief, awkward moment of the nurse's arms around her, the smell of antiseptic, and then her settling her into the wheelchair. She curled her hand into a fist and looked straight ahead as the nurse wheeled her forward.

They'd lined the beds in rows, in the classrooms and the larger hallways and the gym, the wounded sallow and limp in them. She didn't look at them. At the toll of what everyonw was now calling victory paid by the broken bodies of the wounded and the covered faces of the dead.

Sic itur ad astra. That's what you said to the dead, to someone who died a Marine (and there'd been a lot of them, some far too young to be wearing the uniform). An acknowledgement of sacrifice, a prayer. She imagined what the other species said to their dead, when the translator was off, trapped on this ash-choked world so far from their homes. The chirps and rasping subharmonics of the turians crooning over a broad-shouldered, bright-tattooed man, his claws scraping at the roof containing him. The low, flowing syllables of the asari knelt in the corner, her hands folded in her lap, a body bag before her.

She was tired of this hospital. She didn't want to look at the dead and dying anymore. She didn't want to see the wreck of a person she saw when she looked in the mirror, bald skull covered with spiky red stubble, tattoos twisted and shot through with still developing scar, the seams she traced with the five fingers she had left.

The nurse pushed her through the doors of the makeshift hospital and into the filtered sunlight. She blinked against it, green eyes narrowed. The air tasted just a little of ozone and ash. This was one of the reclaimed parts of the ruins, the most suitable place to create a base out of the rubble and watch the civilians come creeping out, their eyes wary. Now there were tents and anything else that could be made liveable surrounding the base.

The air rang with voices and she watched them, these people that were so contradictory-alive with their strong voices and purposeful walk, but carrying the war in their eyes. The nurse took her around in aimless circles, passing through shifting crowds of people who didn't look at her, because such sights were all too common.

"Ready to go back in?"

She wasn't, "Yeah."

The nurse wheeled her around and headed back toward the hospital. She sank back into the chair and closed her eyes. She imagined a different place. Summer, with the air tasting of red dust and sausages. She remembered a scene that had never happened: her father's broad back, his hair peppered, cooking on the barbeque out the back of her parents' house, the one she'd grown up in. Her sister's belly round with her third child, watching her sons play, her husband's arm around her. Jack playing with Hope on the swing, his wife telling him to for god's sake man, be careful. Her mother on one side of her, laughing, Kaseka on the other, their hands wrapped together. Their daughter on her lap, soft and indistinct, blue eyes wondering.

She bit down hard on her lip and tasted blood.

"You alright there, Gunny?"

She touched the ring around her neck, "Yeah."
At first she thought it was her imagination, a wish imprinted onto her reality.

"Nat! Natalie."

It wasn't. She choked on the realization.

That was her wife pushing through the crowds, preceded by the swell of her belly, her face split by relief, tugging along a little, somewhat disconcerted little human. "Nat!"

"Kaseka," She managed to whisper before the asari was cradling her face in her hands, pressing kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, to her lips, whispering her name. Nat put her hand on her stomach, on their child and for the first time since the Battle of London, she cried.

It's funny how awkward it is at times to look down on Earth from the Citadel. Even at the over-priced restaurant he was at, his fiance's favorite, the sight was always one so strange to him. Even in his job you aren't that used to having the entire universe flipped around.

"Sir, are you still waiting on your company or are you ready to order?" The asari waitress gave an awkward smile down at him as Stephen broke from his train of thought. He looked at the time before back at the waitress, shrugging.

Thirty minutes, twenty-five seconds late. Not like her...

"Can I get a whole bottle of the Thessian? She'd appreciate that... When she gets here." The waitress nodded, and off she went. His fingers went away drumming at the table as he leaned back. It definitely wasn't like her to do this, especially when she was the one who always did the scheduling- she always had to work around Stephen's work.

She's not upset because I missed her show, is she?

--

"Rachel, look, I'm really sorry. But it's not like I have a choice in the matter. Something big is coming and they need me to come in." He was pulling a jacket as he scurried around his apartment. Several bags were on the floor as she stood in the window, shaking her head.

"Can't you just say no for once? We've had this planned for a year now! Why are they calling you in, just out of the blue for something? The Alliance isn't going to fall apart because you can't come to work!" She started rubbing the bridge of her nose, looking away from him now as Stephen continued packing away.

"Look, I know that. I argued with my boss and still. This is something last minute, and well out of my hands. Whatever it is, it's big. I'll make it up to you, okay? I'll take any and all time I have, and I'll throw it all together; go on something real big. You talked about wanting to travel the galaxy, right? We can do that. Just right now, right now I need to do this."

--

Honestly, he should've called that their relationship never would have worked. Hell, it took the encouragement of most of Stephen's friends to have him ask her out anyway. Rachel was the kind of girl who enjoyed branching out and doing different things. At one time or another she was balancing her time with volunteering, acting, and whatever else she felt like. She was brilliant, smart, and excited about something new. She'd done her time with the Alliance before getting board of working on Arcturus and returning to Earth. She didn't want structure, she wanted openness and freedom. She wanted to embrace the universe in front of her.

On the other hand, Stephen always thought of himself as married to his job. He had a few years as an Intelligence Officer in the SAMC before getting a job with the Alliance Government. Capable, adept, and always ready to work made him an obvious candidate for many of the jobs others wouldn't take. He'd always measure things to exact numbers, make sure it was just as instructed. He liked working his job, he liked his friends, and he was good at what he did. He didn't mind it when he brought work home, or spent entire nights sitting at a desk running over paperwork. He didn't complain whenever his schedule conflicted with anything: he could always adjust. After all, he didn't know when he'd have to leave or for how long. He'd just receive a message and go. It came with the territory.

And for Rachel, it was always "his schedule, your work." Everything, every time they had a disagreement it fell to that. Could he be blamed for it? It would all pay out, it would all turn out for the better.


He left her standing at the terminal in Seattle, a quick shared kiss before she waved goodbye with a smile.

--

He was standing next to a few of his coworkers and superiors, all of them looking at the lists come in.

"This doesn't seem real. It's like something out of a movie." He said softly, turning away to go back to his workstation. He sat down and began running files, scanning for mistakes, something to get his mind off of the list.

Worry about what you can control. That's all there is too it. Focus, focus, focus.

He wouldn't sleep for the next several days.

--


"Sir, we're closing in fifteen minutes. Are you still waiting on your guest?" He'd eaten, paid, and continued to wait for Rachel's arrival. She'd always come to her birthday dinners, always.

"Give me a few more minutes, she'll come."

And he sat there, looking down on Earth. It was a sight he would never get used to.

Planning her first murder was a lot easier than she'd thought. Duty, honour, pride, self-respect... It had all died with Melia, torn away by the bomb.

Part of Commando Nassa D'Veyra had died that day, too. She knew she still hadn't come to terms with it; you didn't have to be an accredited grief counsellor to realise lying awake every night and feeling Melia's absence wasn't healthy. Let alone the dreams - whoever set that bomb dying in her hands, blood pouring, bones splintering. They came every night, over and over, with a raw intensity that bordered on the sexual.

---

Stealing the pistol had been easy. Getting into the brig alone had been hard, but seeing the two prisoners there-

It was like the dreams, soft and floaty, unreal. Even the light had the same quality, slipping and slithering over the curved furniture like water.

I'm supposed to feel something, right? Some anger? Righteous anger, that's it. Vengeance. Not this... Numbness. I'm supposed to feel different.

The pistol came out, and this part was so unreal, so easy, easy like the dreams, lining up the one on the left's neck (Just like training, just like war) and pulling the trigger-

Bang. The pirate's throat exploded in a spray of violet.

Still so easy, Nassa thought, over the screams and that awful bubbling gurgle, And still the same.

The next shot took the same prisoner in the knee, the gunshot lost in the screech of alarms. Still nothing, no anger, just the numbness, just-

¨Help! Oh Goddess! You killed her!¨

I killed her? No, you killed her, you little bitch! You killed her, you killed her, you blew her up, you tore my heart out, you killed her smile-

Here's the rage, here's the hate and the poison and the anger and there was nothing righteous about it.

The first blow was a crisp, compact palm strike to the nose, breaking it. Typical Republics Commando.

The rest were ugly as bile, raining, pouring down on the magcuffed pirate, breaking bone and tearing flesh and it's just like the dream and sweet fucking tides here's that release...

---

It took a Stasis field to pull D'Veyra away, but the damage was already done: Two prisoners dead. Summary execution of unarmed POWs. The Eletania Slaughter, that's what the press called it. Dishonourable discharge, exile, her mother never spoke to her again. Even during the Reaper War, even after the Siege of Illium, Falere D'Veyra deleted everything her eldest daughter sent her.

The Ogre, that was the name the press called her, and it stuck, even if she didn't grow into it properly for years.

Not until she joined Eclipse.

Taeri was an asari escort. A walking stereotype. Except not really. It was completely possible to be an escort without being tastelessly lewd or lacking in professionalism. She was thankful for her own standards tonight because her client was not pleasant. The woman was rude, offensive, and she suspected only just slightly warmer than a Noverian blizzard. It was slightly comforting that she would only have to spend a few hours in this Dimitra's company, and the human had not balked at her price, despite the fact that she hiked it up for the woman's unpleasant demeanor.

The hotel room was... adequate. Dimitra hadn't been so stingy as to rent out the cheapest room she could find, though Taeri suspected that was more for the Dimitra's benefit than her own. A less charitable thought than she normally would have had, but the woman was not the sort who made it easy to be charitable.

As they walked up the stairs Taeri had tried to strike up conversation. The first time Dimitra had only been curt, the second the woman had snapped at her. "I'm not looking for a friend, got it? This is just a business transaction." Even with the way Dimitra had spoken to her up to this point Taeri had been taken aback. Even her standard rates weren't exactly cheap. Usually people willing to shell out that much tended to be polite at least until they were through with each other.

Perhaps if Taeri hadn't been so irritated it would never have happened. She should have given the woman more warning before melding. But she didn't. She said a perfunctory, "Embrace eternity," short, clipped. Dimitra barely managed to get out, "Wa-" before the maiden dived in.

The memories had the too vivid too crisp surreality of a dream. For a moment Taeri was not in Dimitra's head, she was Dimitra. The past came in flashes. She was a child standing hunch shouldered in front of a woman screaming abuse. She was maybe a little older, she ran down a dim narrow alley with something in hot pursuit, she felt a calloused hand clamp down on her shoulder. She was an adolescent, she backed away from a man clutching her stinging cheek, the skin was hot and tacky. She was in a line of adults, doing pushups as sweat fell from her head to the dirt while a man told them what pathetic worthless failures they were, but she knew he was looking at her. She stared at another man, young, handsome, as he gave her a look of utter contempt and pointed to the door, she turned as her eyes began to burn and-

And she was Taeri again. Dimitra, the real Dimitra sat before her, white as a sheet, her eyes wide. Taeri imagined the look on her face must be what people looked like when they had been stabbed in the gut. "I'm sorry," Taeri whispered, mortified. She hadn't seen everything she knew, but she'd seen far more than she should have. Dimitra opened her mouth and for a moment said nothing. She was trembling slightly. Taeri tried to think of what to say, but there was nothing. "Get out," Dimitra finally managed, strangely there was no anger or malice in her voice, she sounded... strained.

Taeri raised a hand and reached for her client's shoulder. Dimitra shrank back as though from a raised fist, "Please leave." She sounded almost pleading. Taeri sighed softly and got up, "Don't send me any payment," she said as she left. She walked from the room and shut the door. As the door closed behind her, she was almost certain she heard a sob.

Where am I?

On the ground. Her mind and body filled with lethargy.

Expending a small amount of effort, Naaya looks up. Four white walls, surrounding her, a door in front of her that's bolted shut with just a small window to show the outside, the window itself fogged-up.

Naaya groans. So hard to remember. Had she been abducted by someone? The last thing she remembered was going out with Najhil, heading to her apartment, and then...nothing. It's like she'd blacked out. And the lack of explanations for that terrified her. Even worse, Najhil would probably have returned to their apartment by now. What if the raloi had panicked, thinking Naaya had been taken by someone, or even worse, just up and left?

One thing was for sure, she had to get out. Naaya focuses he energy, slowly pulling herself to her feet, her weak legs nearly betraying her and sending her toppling to the ground. The quarian reaches out for a nearby wall to catch her balance. Her head pounds. She slowly staggers over to the window, trying to wipe at it with her hand. She can't make much out- some machines, a few dark silhouettes. Could she be on a ship?

Naaya feels something bump against the glass as she strokes it with her hand.

She looks at her wrist, and then suddenly remembers, her legs giving up all hope of holding her up as she topples to the ground, the quarian in her mind falling through a chasm leading into the depths of grief and despair.

As his squad ran to the Mako, Leon took a look behind him as the city burned. That was a mistake. He almost tripped, the young marine barely keeping his footing as they piled into their APC.

"Douglas!"

"I- uh Yes sir!"

"Nice job out there. Same for the rest of you. We don't know anything about the birds' tactics but we'll hang in there. That last run taught them that they're never going to get Shanxi without a fight!

There was a round of 'oo-rah' through the enclosed space as it rattled along and then they shook, the driver stopping the Mako quickly.

"The hell was that?!" The driver didn't get a chance to answer before another bomb hit a building not far from them. The blast threw the mako across the street, rolling over and crashing through a storefront. As the marines scrambled out, Leon felt a tinge of panic creep over him.

He knew this store. He bought his daughter presents here. The shelves were now in disarray, the toys and games burning, but he still recognized it. His hands shook. Their apartment was just over there... He didn't look that direction. He kept his focus on the burning toys in the now-crumbling building. Weekes, one of his squadmates, gave voice to the thoughts they were all having.

"What the fuck? This is a residential area! They're bombing civilians!"

"Dammit, keep it together, squad. We have to get back

They stuck to the outer ring of the bomb site, where buildings weren't completely destroyed, crawling their way back to a safe site for resistance fighters. For the second time today, Leon made the mistake of looking back.

It wasn't just their apartment building that was absent from the skyline. The entire block was gone. Leveled. Burning wreckage. This time, he did trip. He sat up, but otherwise stayed on the ground.

I'll kill every last one of those fringe-headed sons of bitches. We'll never give them Shanxi. Kayla. Their little Lucy Marie..

His hearing came back with a vengeance.
"-las! Get your sorry fucking ass off the ground! They've got ground teams coming in, we've gotta go!"

Leon Douglas, soldier, survivor, and well trained killing machine stood up silently, picking his Lancer up and readying it. He took off with the rest of the marines.

Leon Douglas, the well-behaved marine, husband and father stayed on the ground.

They'd never give up Shanxi.

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Welcome to Uni. Plonaea Assignment Help Chat, LINYA M'TANIS! Please note that these sessions are monitored in accordance with Student Chat Regulations; type !regs for details

You wrote:
/join #Chemistry

Now joining #Chemistry
Trouble with those pesky mechanisms? Spectra getting you down? We're here for you!
Server grants half-operator privileges to: LMT188667

%JW153874 wrote:
looks like my relief's finally here thank spirits
where the hell have you been?

You wrote:
I forgot my password again >.>

%JW153874 wrote:
of course you did
and i suppose that funny coloured rock you found had nothing to do with it

You wrote:
It was a weird rock!
I had to grind a bit of it up and run it through the multispec reeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaally late at night and it turns out there's a platinum complex in it!

%JW153874 wrote:
fascinating

SK264852 wrote:
Uh, guys? I still need help working out this stability constant...

You wrote:
I know! :D

%JW153874 wrote:
anyway i'm out, need some sleep before T'Dapl class tomorrow
have fun, tiny
JW153874 has quit (Client exited)

NTR255466 wrote:
tiny?

You wrote:
Byeeee! Sleep well!
Oh, that's me - I'm like really teeny!
It's what people usually remember about me, nearly everyone's taller by at least 20cm >.>

SK264852 wrote:
Seriously guys this assignment is in for tomorrow

NTR255466 wrote:
wait you're that cute little postgrad who's always running between labs on 5th floor?
wait

UP273918 joined #Chemistry

SK264852 wrote:
GUYS

UP273918 wrote:
HEY HEY HEY ALL YOU FEMALES IN HERE SHAKE DEM CUTE ASSES LETS GET THIS PARTY STARTED

NTR255466 wrote:
uh

You wrote:
...you think I'm cute?

UP273918 wrote:
YOU BETCHA LITTLE BUTT

@YH179382 sets ban on user: UP273918
UP273918 was kicked by @YH179382 (Prime sophistication right there)

NTR255466 wrote:
shit shit shit
NTR255466 has quit (Forced closed connection)

@YH179382 wrote:
Haha, smooth

MKFJVDGNA235689 wrote:
Wheel, you aliens. Can't you get your minds off sex for five seconds?
~Operator_VI sets ban on user: MKFJVDGNA235689
MKFJVDGNA235689 was kicked by ~Operator_VI (Flagged inappropriate words "aliens", "sex" in proximity; one day ban effective immediately)

@YH179382 wrote:
You're all right, Operator_VI

~Operator_VI wrote:
All in a day's work, user YH179382.

SK264852 wrote:
So can I get some help over here now?

You wrote:
Of course. :)
What's your problem?

SK264852 wrote:
So I have the absorbance data from this complex equilibrium thing at different concentrations plotted on this graph, but I'm not sure how to get the stability constant from that.

You wrote:
Huh. I thought physchem was your thing, Yevena?

@YH179382 wrote:
Give me a break, it's been like 30 years since I went anywhere near equilibria

You wrote:
Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. :P
So, SK, you've got your gradient and your molar extinction coefficient?

SK264852 wrote:
My gradient and what?

@YH179382 wrote:
You don't know what that is?
Seriously?

SK264852 wrote:
Uh
No?
Should I?

@YH179382 wrote:
sigh
plonaea.san.uni/chem/phys/y1/ε

SK264852 wrote:
Oh, that's what it's called? Lab manual says that's the inverse of the y-intercept.

You wrote:
It's an intrinsic property of whatever chemical you've got, should be able to-- oh. Justicar'd :|

@YH179382 wrote:
:P

SK264852 wrote:
But I'm not sure where to go from there.

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@YH179382 wrote:
Speaking of, did you manage to get that justicar outfit together in time for the con?

NTR255466 wrote:
hey is that postgrad still here before i make an ass of myself again

You wrote:
I did! Bit cold though, do justicars really expose that much skin?
Hello again, NTR!

NTR255466 wrote:
...
what
what the shit i gotta go
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You wrote:
Oops?

@YH179382 wrote:
Oh, totally.
HAHAHAHA oh goddess I need to find out who this NTR is

Operator_VI wrote:
Please note that this server will be temporarily shutting down for maintenance in 5 minutes.

SK264852 wrote:
shit
guys guys guys guys guys help quick

@YH179382 wrote:
Actually, next time you're running around 5th have a look and see if anyone starts blushing and stuff

You wrote:
That'd be a bit mean...

@YH179382 wrote:
Also hilarious.

You wrote:
...I guess :P

SK264852 wrote:
GUYS I DON'T SEE HOW THIS IS RELEVANT

You wrote:
gradient = 1/[(molar extinction coefficient)x(stability constant)]
It's in the online lab manual :)

SK264852 wrote:
That's it?
How did I miss that?

@YH179382 wrote:
Good question.

You wrote:
Anyway if this place is conking out anyway I should probably log off. UniBar later, Yev?

@YH179382 wrote:
Sounds good.
Later!

SK264852 wrote:
Thanks, LMT!
Bye!

You wrote:
Byeeeeeeeeeeeee! :D

Connection closed