Dr. Mordin Solus

Dr. Mordin Solus My xenoscience studies range from urban to agrarian. [A closed RP blog for MERP]

[janeshepard-]

Shepard’s jaw tightened. “The Alliance’s official position is that the Reapers don’t exist. The artifact the team found in the Bahak system should have been used to prove that they do, but now all they have is reports of me going in to a batarian system and three days later eradicating it from existence. That doesn’t exactly look good.”

And no matter what other things had happened - no matter if the Alliance had declared her MIA and elected not to extract her from Cerberus when they found out she was back, no matter if she was facing a court-martial - Shepard was still a soldier and the military had been her everything ever since she was sixteen and sat on her first shuttle, being shipped offworld from Mindoir. Was she tempted to take her ship and hide somewhere in a remote system? Absolutely. But that wouldn’t keep the galaxy from being torn apart.

“We’re on borrowed time. What we need is to convince the Alliance, as well as every other major military force and eventually the Council, that the threat we’re facing is real and imminent. Right now that involves me going to Earth whether I want to or not.”

[somegoddamnusername-blog-blog]

Zaeed pushed himself off the wall, taking a step forward. “Shepard,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m with you, no matter what, and I’m pretty sure the rest of these bastards will say the same thing. Plus, I can’t say I’m not impressed. Never did like batarians. Good riddance, I say.”

He paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sure about this, though? Seems like a big goddamn risk, giving yourself over to the Alliance. They’re not the type to listen to reason and respond quickly. Might be better off handling it ourselves. Up to you, of course. And I’ll be ready to fight whatever needs goddamn fighting. Or rescue you from the Alliance, if it comes to that.” 

[scientistsalariansolus]

Unfortunate. Frustrating. Ineffective.  

Terrible.

Mordin drew a sharp breath. "Logical," he assented. "Will defer to your judgement on the matter, Commander. Will do best I can with own government in meantime." He clasped both hands behind his back. "But--if necessary--rescue mission might be preferable to politics." 

[nameislooney]

[somegoddamnusername-blog-blog]

Jack’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. He agreed with her, which, given that she was batshit insane most of the time, would probably worry some people, but Zaeed was confident in himself and his own mind. She was a smart girl, even if she was pretty fucked up. He shifted position, stretching his neck out. “What the hell’s going on, Shepard?” he growled. 

The whole situation was worrying him slightly. He had no doubt that they could take it, but Shepard doing some kind of mission by herself, needing that fast pickup, and the Alliance on board… An explanation had goddamn well better be coming. 

[janeshepard-]

"If I wanted something dead, you’d know", Shepard replied through her teeth, her voice gaining a sharp edge - she was fond of Jack, as she was fond of all her squadmates, but she was neither in the mood to be questioned nor fight at that particular moment. 

Of course, she also wasn’t in the mood to be kept waiting, and with a quick glance around the room she activated her omni-tool, opening a new comm link to those few missing. “Get your asses in here”, she bit out, deactivating the bright orange glow around her hand before folding her arms with growing irritation.

It was hardly her team’s fault that she was in a mood, of course, and Miranda still did a lot of administrative work even if none of it was Cerberus-related - she could be in a call to arrange for resources, for all Shepard knew - but she wanted what had gone on groundside to be out in the open, and to come from her, as soon as possible. 

[scientistsalariansolus]

Mordin saved the data's progress and glanced up from his omni-tool. Took very little observation to know Shepard was stressed. Upset. Angry. 

Very likely to do with the Alliance. Suicide mission done, a dead hero returned to life most certainly caused questions at best, and issues at worst. Any outcome would be... problematic. 

The salarian shifted his weight, but remained silent. Best to let things unfold. 

[janeshepard-]

"EDI", she said while turning the datapad with her report off and moving to leave the Med Bay, "tell my squad to meet me in the comm room."

[reducedtonumbers]

"Of course, Commander."

Temporarily diverting the daily efficiency diagnostics to a series of subroutines, EDI called up the omni-tools of each squad member, not waiting for them to accept the comm - while acknowledging that politeness cost nothing, it had not seemed like Shepard desired to wait any longer than necessary - and stated that the Commander requests your presence in the Communications Room before opening up audio channels to high-ranking ship personnel and resuming the previous task.

[scientistsalariansolus]

Mordin heard the ping, but, with hands occupied by a delicate reagent, ignored it for the moment. Three seconds, at most. 

One. Two drops of volatile poison. 

One point two seven. Noxious gas contained under fume hood.

Two. Replace beaker.

Two point five three. Sample infused into omni-gel. 

Two point eight one. Observe.

Two point nine five. Seal fume hood. 

Three. The Salarian flicks open his omni-tool, eyes dancing across the text. 

He swipes a quick affirmative and keys shorthand notes regarding this step in the experiment as he heads toward the CIC, humming under his breath.

Upon arrival, he smiles brightly--absently--at those few assembled, but returns his attention to the notes. Close. Very close. 

[janeshepard-]

[scientistsalariansolus]

Mordin set to work immediately. Time was of the essence, as humans liked to say... had less concept of time than salarians, actually, in his experience, but an accurate sentiment all the same.

Steady progress was made on this and two other experiments in the 2.46 hours that passed, until a shift in the engines caught the scientist's attention. Moving. New coordinates. Must have found something on derelict ship.

Best to go straight to source.

"EDI?" he called.

[scientistsalariansolus]

Mordin's eyes swept across the lab. Fingers twitched.

No matter the response--he strode out of the lab and to the elevator. Better to take matters into own hands, anyway: he was not tethered to the lab (though there was one experiment that needed checking in 10.3 minutes), but his errand would take no time at all.

The elevator stopped just outside the Commander's quarters. Sealed. No code. Could be cracked. Would take time.

"Please."

The doors slid open and he bustled about the space.

Tidy. Bed made--immaculate; no help. PADDs stacked, stained coffee mug on desk--could be promising, floors scrubbed, bathroom decontaminated. Ah! Single hair, back of sofa.

Collecting both the hair and the mug, he stepped back into the elevator, an upbeat little tune under his breath.

"EDI. My thanks. CIC level, please."

[scientistsalariansolus]

Waiting: tedious, unproductive, anxious--problematic.

Mordin understood why Miranda selected her teams. Selections geared toward brute strength and ability to gather intelligence in short span of time. Logical, predictable.

Still, left him with little enough to do. At least during Collector Mission he always had something constructive to occupy the time: samples, cures, repellant for Seeker Swarms. Now... no information--frustration, instead.

The salarian paced the length of his lab (once? uncertain.) before alighting on a temporary solution. He had a message drafted and sent in seconds:

To: Jeff "Joker" Moreau ; Kasumi Goto ; Miranda Lawson

Subject: Status

Please alert immediately with new information. Have little to go on. Can attempt to synthesize DNA into usable form for easily detecting traces where Shepard has been with Omni-tool.

Not best solution, but something.