C'mon, little brother! Let's race!

He started awake from his doze to hear Mogul grumbling, "-not like it was, you know what I'm saying?"

Keigan sighed and sat back up straighter, and shook away the ghost come to haunt him. He gave the old krogan a baleful glare where the bastard sat next to him in this depressingly tiny bar. "Why's it I never hear old fuckers talking about anything but 'how grand it was back in the old days' or 'they don't make'em like they used to'?"

"Cuz they don't. And it was. Hey, what about that time we ran the blockade past Ixion Prime with three turian cruisers on our asses? I thought I was gonna shit myself when the Corsair told us to drop into the atmo of that proto-planet-"

"Before my time, you crusty ancient bastard. Two hundred and some odd years before. My great-grandfather hadn't been born yet."

Drunk, Mogul could only blink at him. Then he snorted. "Oh, yeah."

The two men sat in awkward silence.

Feeling a touch of sympathy, Keigan sighed. "It's a good story, though. Even if I've heard it a dozen times."

The krogan muttered, "You should have been there, kid. Engagement after engagement, the Corsair led us through, always with a laugh and a cheer and a bloody thirst for more. More work, more money, more . . . fun. We freelanced for every government there was, 'cept the humans. They weren't around yet. And she never doubted that we'd make it.

"Sometimes, we took heavy losses, but there never was a lack of new recruits begging to fly under her flag. So many battles. We didn't have much, a couple ships, maybe five hundred of us grunts tops, but we tore the galaxy a new one. And soon, everyone knew who we were and no one dared to fuck with us. She made the Corbies a force to be reckoned with."

Keigan watched Mogul, the sad old codger, reminisce and did wonder how it must have been then, during the Corbies' golden age. Back before they'd grown so huge and complacent, before their might began to wane. Now the smaller, hungrier mercenary bands, like the Eclipse, Blue Suns and Bloodpack led the charge, and carved further into Corbie territory with every season.

The turian held up his bottle in a toast. "To better times."

"To better times." The krogan clinked his glass with Keigan's. He sipped in pensive contemplation after that.

"Whatever happened to the Corsair?"

Mogul frowned and swirled his liquor. "She got soft."

Then Silva took over. Probably with her usual brutality. Keigan suppressed a shiver. The krogan didn't have to say it. They both knew their boss.

Mogul took a huge swig of his drink, eyeballing Keigan askance the entire time. Then he pounded the countertop with the empty glass and belched. Keigan waved away the noxious fumes. Then, the krogan grunted a question, "Never seen those particular colony markings before. Where'd you say you came from again?"

"You wouldn't have heard of it." Bitterness squatted in his guts, souring his mood.

Mogul grunted in surprise, then retorted, "I might have."

"No, you wouldn't have." Daring the krogan to keep going, Keigan gripped his bottle so tight that his gloves squeaked. He tamped down the urge to do violence with great effort.

Mogul glanced down at Keigan's hand, then shrugged and looked away altogether. "Guess it's not important."

"Not to you." Mollified, Keigan scrubbed his face, yawning and stretching his mandibles. The end of a sixteen-hour binge and he still didn't feel as though he'd gotten drunk enough. Or at all, really. "C'mon, this is a wash. Let's go get the boys sorted."

"Givin' me orders now, plateface? Damn turians. Just 'cuz you're fuckin' the boss-"

Keigan nudged Mogul hard in the ribs as a svelte female figure swung into the bar. He stood to attention. "Boss."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the krogan do the same, all hint of inebriation fled with admirable speed. Fear will do that to a man, sharpen his wits and take away what little pleasures he might find. Mogul grumbled, "Boss."

"Thought I'd find you boys here." Silva looked around the dismal and smoky room full of drunks, her pretty face smiling, though her eyes said she found her surroundings revolting. She ran a finger through some spilled drink on the bar and drew curls in the glass top, as though she was writing something.

Her name, no doubt, Keigan thought with hidden sourness. Spirits knew she liked-no, loved to leave her mark on everything.

"At least you're both consistent. I never need to go further than the nearest watering hole. " Their employer turned back to them and said, "Leave is over. Get everyone back to the fleet."

Mogul grinned. "We got a job?"

Silva's lips curled even more, taking on a feral cast. "I'm bored and tired of waiting on our clients' pleasure. It's time to create some . . . opportunities."

Keigan mulled this over. True, the Dire Corbies had suffered heavily in the ever-growing, ever-shifting market for hired guns, but they'd always managed to find work before. What changed? "Where we going?"

The asari wiped her fingers off on his armored chest and said with mild reproach, "That would ruin the surprise, Keigan."

"I thought you didn't like surprises." He dropped into her wake as she spun and lead them out.

She smirked at him over her shoulder, the teasing look in her ruthless eyes pulling at him. Or his loins anyway. "I don't like being the one surprised."

He chuckled. Oh, she was a dangerous one. Probably why he followed her. She made life exciting.

"Why are we even out here?" groused Turk, a rough human infiltrator who'd only recently joined.

Keigan shrugged, though much the same question had occurred to him. He turned a questioning eye on Silva, who seemed occupied by whatever Mogul had to show her on his monitors. The krogan kept watch on comm channels, scanning through the frequencies most used by those of the various races. Good thing she didn't hear Turk run his mouth or the man might find himself spaced before he knew it.

Yet the human couldn't seem to shut it. "I get nervous this far into Alliance space. Didn't exactly leave their ranks in good grace, if you catch my drift."

"Not a unique story by far. Most here have similar." Keigan watched as Silva's lips curled into another famous grin. You couldn't trust that smile to mean anything other than someone might soon find themselves in a heap of trouble. The asari stood straight and headed his way. He muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Go away and try to learn how to keep your tongue from flapping, or she'll rip it out someday."

The human shot him an outraged glare, then noticed Silva's approach. Turk swallowed hard, face tight with tension, and scampered off.

Silva beckoned Keigan to the big map with one long, perfectly manicured fingernail. With a few deft waves of her hand, she brought up the nearby systems. Zooming in on one planet in particular, she tapped at five blips, each representing a ship. Two running with three in pursuit. "Behold the human colony of Drasta. It has just had the misfortune of being targeted by batarian slavers."

"Are those Alliance ships in pursuit?" Keigan asked, peering closer at the icons. He saw that their own ships scooted along on an intercept course.

"Two frigates and a destroyer. An inconsequential force."

The turian flicked a mandible. "Slavers hired us to cover their escape?"

Again, that dangerous smile. "No. Not yet. In fact, depending on who contacts us first, we may help or hinder their unlucky counterpart. Whichever they may be."

Keigan frowned. "What makes you so certain they won't just ignore us and sort it out themselves?"

"I might have tipped off the Alliance to the impending strike. I might also have told people I know in the Hegemony of windows of opportunity regarding when certain human colonies might be unprotected."

The turian drew in a deep breath. "That's a dangerous game, boss. Playing both sides like that."

"It's no more or less than what arms-dealers have done for the whole of history, my sweet Keigan." She reached out and ran a hand over his cheek, tracing the intricate whorls there.

He leaned into her touch and rumbled lust at her. She smiled in appreciation before continuing, "They will call. The Alliance will have difficulty capturing those two ships without heavy losses. The slavers won't be able to escape without jettisoning their cargo. All we have to do is be there and-"

A beeping sounded around the command center. Keigan chuckled. "There's our lucky winner now."

Silva laughed with him. "Open the comms, Mogul."

"-ix'ia to Dire Corbie fleet. Please, come in!" bleated a panicked batarian on the other end.

The asari leaned forward, with both hands resting on the map controls. She said, in a bright and cheerful alto, "Hail and well met. This is Silva N'ordain. What can this humble mercenary do for you, O'prizewinners?"

"What?" barked the slaver, all confusion. Then the sound of explosions rang through the link. The batarian shouted over the noise, "Help us, please! Destroy these Alliance pyjaks!"

Silva made a thoughtful hum in her throat. "I don't know . . .. The Alliance can be rather touchy about mercs blowing up their ships. What can you give me to counterbalance the headache and any annoying attempts at retribution?"

"We'll pay you!"

"Three mil."

The batarian sputtered in outrage. "That's extortion!"

"I have mouths to feed and cruisers to fuel."

"It's only three Alliance ships-"

Silva interrupted him with a sharp, "I could help them capture you instead. I can see their hail on the other channel. It's glowing at me. Should I pick it up?"

"No! N-no, we'll pay!"

Every face in the command center grinned at that. Keigan met Silva's icy blue eyes and nodded, conceding to her brilliance. Three million credits was a huge payoff for so simple a task.

Silva chuckled, a warm and deep sound. "Deal."

She signaled for Mogul to cut the link, then turned to the rest of them. "Well, get on with it."

Keigan spun and barked, "As soon as we're through the relay, bring us up alongside the destroyer. Broadside that gunship!"

He shouted out more orders as the mercenaries prepared for battle. The transition to real space push/pulled at him and he leaned over the map to see their relative positions better. Vid feeds from every other ship queued up on his monitor, showing him all the angles. He sent out more orders, minor corrections to trajectory, then stood back to watch it all fall into place. His favorite part, by far.

Silva watched at his side, her eyes glowing with fascination. She tapped one of the icons with her nail, where a cluster of their ships harried, but refrained from dealing a critical blow. "Not going to destroy that frigate?"

"Lots of salvage on a ship like that. Plus, boarding her will give our ground troops something to do, keep them sharp."

His asari commander spun on a heel and walked to her plush throne-like seat, or her 'comfy chair' as she called it. She sat with regal aplomb and told Keigan, "Go with them. Be my eyes and ears. Tell them you speak with my voice."

He saluted and strode to the elevator starboard of the map. From there, he stopped by the armory and geared up: Rifle, helmet, grenades. From his pack, he drew out a small box and flipped it open.

Keigan studied what lay within for a moment, then picked it up and slotted it into the port at the base of his skull. A crackling buzz filled him as the amp harnessed his body's chaotic energies and focused them, putting them to yoke and magnifying them tenfold.

Flexing his fingers, Keigan watched tendrils of biotic power curl and uncurl in the air. Yes, time to do some damage.

Throwing a last shockwave through the frigate's command center, Keigan smirked as it threw the remaining Alliance troops into the air. His own forces picked every one of the flailing soldiers off with controlled bursts of fire.

As one, they stood out of cover. Grinning like madmen, the mercenaries clustered around him. Turk scratched at the stubble on his chin and sneered. "Too easy."

Another merc, an old salarian, hummed agreement, then put a hand to his ear to listen to the radio chatter. "Got prisoners downstairs."

"Oooh. A bit of fun?" Turk rubbed his hands together. "Could play a little game of hide and go kill. Eh, Moxie?" He prodded the salarian in the ribs.

Moxie, or Mox'itlanderanpherax to those willing to go the extra mile, frowned at the human's antics. He turned back to Keigan and asked, "What do you want us to do with them?"

Keigan thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of taking the Alliance grunts and ransoming them back, but then shook his head. He knew what Silva would want. "Space them. No witnesses. No trace of this attack. Salvage, then scuttle."

They shuffled off to do as he commanded. His own comms beeped and he flipped open the channel. "Keigan."

"I'm on the slaver ship. Get over here. I need you. Seems our slaver friends don't have the money to pay us." Silva's voice, though warm and pleasant, held a sweetly sinister note. She must be livid.

"We really need to start getting our wages before doing the job." He sighed. "On my way."

He took one of the shuttles and flew it into the capacious cargo bay of the lead slaver ship. When he exited, the stench of crowded bodies and filth made his stomach roil in disgust. Cages filled the whole bay, with hundreds of slaves in them, segregated roughly into male and female. Mostly humans, but some turians, batarians, and salarians mixed in as well. The slavers must hit several colonies before heading to market then.

Silva stood at the end and loomed over two batarians, the scarily toothy smile on her face an indicator of her displeasure. Even the slavers seemed to realize how deep in the shit they'd found themselves. One stuttered, after glancing at the turian, bristling with weapons, sauntering their way, "B-but we don't carry that much currency and c-can only do a c-credit transfer that lar-large on a trade p-planet-"

"You should have told me that before the deal, Quod. You can't expect me to haul my entire fleet in your wake just to get paid."

The other batarian peeked out from behind his comrade and offered, "You don't have to go with us. We will be more than happy to transfer the credits the very next time we stop for . . . for . . .."

He trailed off as her smile grew ever wider and more frightening. Silva turned to regard Keigan and said, pleasant as you please, "Keigan." Then she waved at the batarians and wandered off a few paces, clearly unwilling to deal with things she deemed beneath her.

The turian spoke, "We will tail you to the next trade planet. You will transfer the credits as promised. Plus, half again for our trouble-"

Quod sputtered, "But we won't have that until we sell-"

"Twice." Keigan glared as he shut down the interruption with one of his own, "Two times as much, now."

The batarian's mouth shut with a snap. Smart.

From behind Keigan, came Silva's voice, "Tell me about this one."

They all turned to regard a small cage with a single inhabitant. A female human huddled in the far corner. The asari beckoned her to come into the light. "Don't be afraid, my dear. I won't harm you." One could believe almost any lie said in that soft and warm alto.

The woman stood on shaky legs and drew closer to Silva. The light hit her face and Keigan had to suppress a gasp. Flawless porcelain skin, blue-black hair that shone with a hearty luster and eyes of such unusual color that he blinked in surprise. Their molten amber hue glimmered, almost metallic in the harsh flourescent light of the cargo bay. Even he, a turian, had to recognize that this woman was a rare beauty.

"What is your name?" Silva asked, reaching through the bars to cup the human's pale cheek.

Her ruby lips parted and she whispered, with pathetic hope, "Celeste."

"I am Silva. I'm very pleased to meet you." Without looking at the batarians, her voice raised to query them, "What is her value?"

Darting looks at each other, they both opened and closed their mouths a couple of times, as though at a loss for words.

Keigan commented, with dry disdain, "I suggest you don't make her ask again, and answer truthfully or she might feel the need to use persuasion."

Quod looked down and away with all four of his eyes. "Ten mil."

"Ten? For a single slave?" Silva chuffed, incredulous. "I could buy a scout ship for that. And pay for the men to crew her."

"She is a consort. A student of Sha'ira's. Highly skilled."

Keigan watched a light grow in Silva's eyes, a gleam of pure avarice that only grew brighter as she looked around the cargo bay at all the other cages. He felt an unpleasant shock as something shifted, something unseen having to do with the workings of the universe as he understood it. A tipping point reached and suddenly surpassed.

The asari faced Celeste and gripped the bars as she stared at the terrified human within. It seemed the woman finally realized she hadn't found a rescuer in the asari with the pleasant demeanor. Silva licked her lips and said, "Keigan, space all the slavers on this ship and the other."

The turian frowned but signaled for his men to take the struggling, protesting slavers away to their dooms. Then he turned back to Silva. "What is it, boss?"

She hummed a happy hum and said, "I have an idea."

"An idea?" He didn't dare allow a dubious note to enter his tone.

"A glorious idea. One that could help us regain our former greatness."

When she turned her bright and too-cheerful grin on him, he made himself return it with enthusiasm, though in his heart of hearts he felt an alarming disquiet sprout and grow.