M: By Saren, that crazy Spectre? Yeah, I understand. That damn turian almost got us all killed. Whose the reckless race now, am I right?
F: How long have I been an Engineer on this station, 6 years? I've made structural repairs and adjustments all over. When I was assigned to design the power transfer for the upgrade to the docking bay landing platforms, I was so very proud to be selected. I put so much time and effort into making the Citadel station perfect. Every day I came to work ready to give 110% you know? I really felt like I was part of something.
M: Yeah, I know what you mean. The other day I was checking on the thermal...
F: Then that DAMN, gigantic, perfect-looking ship... with it's sweeping curves, and long prefectly hewn arms, and subtly arching carpace showed up at the head of that Geth armada and charged right in!
M: Uh...
F: And what happens? Nothing! Six years I've taken care if this damn station, and NOTHING!!! Those beautiful massive ward arms that I've been admiring for so long just stayed wide open, until of course that ****ing ship waltzed inside. Then those arms... those arms that I helped maintain.... closed in a loving protective embrace... an embrace that was meant to protect us, US DAMNIT!
Did you see that ship? Oh, it was sooo... powerful, elegant, glorious - the Conqueror, the Master. That kind of ship can get away with doing whatever the **** it wants. It just breezed right past the outer defenses, and slowly steadily drifted in, so sure of itself, using just the most perfect trajectory. Like it had been doing this for a million years! It knew exactly where it was going. It sashayed up in between those arms and gracefully eased right down on to the tip of that... what the hell is that thick long shaft thing anyway, Citadel Tower? Seat of the Council? Pfft! It was the seat of that ship now.
I couldn't believe it.
M: Yeah... I don't think it's really healthy to think of it in those terms.
F: Then all hell breaks loose! There are random fluctuating power spikes; lights start blowing out or throbbing on and off; sparks are flying; crazy metal grinding and moaning sounds are coming from who knows where; elevator shafts are gyrating up and down and shooting cabins off into space.
Of course, none of the Citadel's controls were responding. It just ignored me and did its... thing... while I stood by powerless, helpless, watching.
That ship... I've never hated a piece of machinery so much.
M: ...
F: I was just standing there livid.
That ****ing ship! Some of its arms are flying in the air left and right. Other arms are gently gripping the exterior, trying to secure its position. Other arm tips are... ugh... running up and down the tower length. I couldn't believe what I was seeing on display in front of everyone in the whole damn station! A couple of times I thought it might lose its grip. Nope. Even when the Citadel ward arms finally started to open, and that ship was faced with the overwhelming might of the Alliance fleet, it just WOULD NOT LEAVE!
Couldn't it tell it wasn't welcome anymore? Time to go, *****! GTFO!
It stayed. That ship... that beautiful, glorious, terrifying ship stayed perched right where it was. Why? Then I understood. Though it had entered the conqueror, the master, it was now trapped - a slave to its own desire to conquer, and whatever mysterious need it had found at the top of that tower. It couldn't leave. Can you imagine the kind of resources, time, design, and ingenuity that went into creating, maintaining, and constantly improving a beast like that? And then to just throw it all away in one senseless moment.
In its moment of impending destruction, despite all good sense, it just wanted... NEEDED... to stay.
M: Maybe it was just having a good time?
F: You *******.
M: What? Look, this is your weird-*** conversation.
F: ....
As I watched, a sudden energy discharge or something enveloped it in a shower of sparks and electrical arcs. The ship sort of froze for a second, then shivered and trembled, and finally just... I don't know... slid off like it was in a daze. Those perfect arms that a few moments ago caressed Citadel tower in a firm unyeilding grip were flopping all over the place. That magnificent ship barely even tried to defend itself when the Normandy and the Alliance ships flew in and blasted it to pieces.
As powerful as it was, the master was made a slave, and then just tossed aside... discarded.
And the Citadel? The Ward arms opened up all over again like nothing happened - like some giant Venus Fly Trap. "Hey Engineers, could you come fix me? I need you again."
M: Wow. So... the Citadel saved us. This may be the greatest tower-defense story ever!
F: This place uses people.
I look at Citadel Tower now and I just want to... plant some ****ing demo charges, blast that damn tower off its foundation, tie it to a frigate, rip it free, and shove it into space.
M: OhLookAtTheTime. I gotta go.
F: You ever notice when the Citadel's arms are closed it looks like a sex toy?
M: No I didn't. Uh... Goodbye.
Modifié par Obadiah, 01 novembre 2013 - 01:27 .
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