The Hearts of Rogues

Chapter One: Arrivals

The shuttle rocked and bounced as it flew over the battle-scarred city. Tirik Palad look around the cabin at…what were they now? His squad? That was what the liaison had called them. "Palad, you and your squad are to hold the east bridge and stymie the Reaper reinforcements that try to get across. We can't get caught in a pincer." His squad. The notion almost made him chuckle. To be called that after how they had gotten started. He was sure the others would have found it funny in their own way. Except for Megan, of course. He'd never seen the stern human smile. He wasn't sure what Janna saw in her.

Then again, maybe it was just a physical thing. It's not like her gang left her a lot of options. The other two, Kalok and Hahn, weren't exactly her type from what the turian could tell. He was pretty sure that Kalok was nobody's type. The krogan exile was crazy even compared to the normal insanity that his species was known for. Tirik had never found out how Janna had convinced him to join up with her. It certainly wasn't the creds; the walking tank cared little for that. From their track record, the jobs weren't violent enough to appeal to his blood lust, at least not enough to convince him to join.

Malus Hahn, however, was easier to read. The drell was in it for the pay; that much was obvious. Standard mercenary attitude but personable enough for a trained killer. He seemed to get along well enough with the rest of the criminals but Tirik had a feeling that, if things got bad enough, the drell would vanish like comets on a skyline. Malus would probably have the biggest reaction to being called a part of "Tirik's squad," laughing away in that whispering chuckle of his.

But Janna would find it funniest of all, of that Tirik was certain, but she wouldn't show it beyond a small smirk on her small face. The same one she wore when they first met. Met. There was another funny word about their situation. Tirik put his head back against the rattling hull, and thought back to that night onboard the Phaeton.

It was a risky job; Tirik knew that when he first conceived the idea. But those were the best kind, the biggest rush. Stow away on a criminal transport, hold the gang leader hostage, hijack the freighter and wait for the feds to arrive? Tirik knew his odds weren't anywhere near good, but then, if they had been, someone else would have taken the job. Someone with less guts, someone who cared about creds and surviving rather than the challenge and the glory.

That's not to say that the bounty for bringing in Elanos Haliat's little girl and her ragtag gang wasn't worth a pretty penny, as the human saying went. Despite the death of her infamous father several years before, Janna had put together quite the operation. They were small, very small compared the Blue Suns or the Eclipse, but their size worked to their advantage. They left less of a trail and could go to ground in the blink of an eye. In fact, finding their ship had been much more difficult than boarding it. Tirik had exhausted nearly all the contacts he had made over the course of his bounty-hunting career when he got a whisper that an eclectic band of mercenaries hijacked and robbed a space station. The name "Haliat" kept popping up across the comms. From there, Tirik merely had to chase them down.

He'd finally found them in the Batarian Hegemony, leaps away from any respectable form of legal authority. He'd had to gamble; if he lost them there he might never find them again. He'd stowed away in a starboard compartment. It wasn't easy—turian physiology wasn't made for compacting for hours on end—but it was not the worse he'd gone through. From the comm bursts that came every few hours, he could tell they rotated pilot duty. Well, everyone except for Kalok, of course. Even the boss lady took a turn at the helm. If she hadn't been a criminal, Tirik would've found that quality admirable.

He hacked into the ships schematics and waited, passing his time checking his weapons, keeping a keen edge on his talon and making sure his Phalanx and Revenant were in order. The Revenant was his last resort, his final card if things went critical, which they tended to do when there was a krogan was involved. He waited until Janna was alone at the wheel. Silent as a shadow, he made his way through the narrow corridors out of the cargo hold, talon reverse-gripped in his left hand. Most of the crew compartments were sealed. He could hear what he assumed were Kalok's snores coming from one of them. That was good. He'd fought krogan in close combat before; it was something he would rather avoid doing again.

Tirik checked his omni-tool. The deck was just ahead. He stowed his knife and drew his Phalanx from his hip. If Haliat turned around before he could reach her, the pistol would make a bigger impression. Breathing deep, Tirik opened the cabin door and, within two steps, pressed the barrel to the gang leader's temple. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he leaned in close to her other ear.

"Janna Haliat," Tirik growled, "you are under arrest for numerous counts of theft, smuggling, resisting arrest, battery, and murder."

"Murder?" she asked, her voice betraying no sign of fear.

"The guards you guys left in a pod in the Attican Beta cluster; they died of exposure."

She snorted, a small smirk crossing her thin lips, "Well, maybe if the rescue squad had gotten there qui—"

Tirik jabbed the Phalanx into the side of her head, tightening the smirk. "Enough." He studied the star map before speaking again. They were heading for the mass relay, and then Omega. Typical. "You're going to change course."

"Where to, boss?" She asked derisively, her fingers moving towards the projection.

"Easy," he snarled, watching her hand. She stopped moving. "Palaven. No tricks. The bounty only said to bring you in; it didn't say in what state. Though I'd prefer alive."

She cocked her head slightly. The smirk must've been tattooed on. "Oh? Does the badass turian merc have a soft spot for human girls?" she cooed.

He grabbed a fist full of black hair and pulled hard, finally clearing the smirk for a mask of pain. "Any more lip, Haliat, and the only soft spot in the room will be the one I put in your knee. Now, do it," he hissed. He watched as she altered the jump equation. His mandibles flared slightly as he noticed Palaven in the ship's recent logs. The gang was bold.

The cabin door behind them pinged, signaling an entry. Stupid, Tirik thought, forgot to lock the door. His free hand went to his belt and flicked the talon at the opening door. A woman grunted in pain. The sound of breaking ceramics made him look away from Haliat for an instant, but that was all the woman needed. He felt the Revenant leave his back and by the time he turned his head, the butt bludgeoned him across the face, knocking him out.

The shuttle bounced again, more jarring than the last. Kalok swore and banged his meaty fist against the cockpit door next to him. "Fly this tub right, meat!" He cocked his scaly head at Janna. "Can I eat him, boss?"

The woman was busy checking her omni-tool for the sixth time. "Only if we crash, Kalok."

The krogan nodded, seemingly satisfied with the condition.

Tirik had heard those words often during his time with the gang, but he had never seen them fulfilled. They had been the first words he'd ever heard Kalok say. They'd come at him through the blackness of unconsciousness.

"Can I eat him, boss?"

"Not right now, Kalok. " Haliat's voice. "Let's see what he has to say first."

"Kalok's got the right idea," another female voice said, the one from the doorway, "Let's just kill him and dump him out the airlock."

"And deny Kalok a meal?" Haliat jested. Something jabbed the side of his head painfully. "You awake, merc?"

His eyes flicked open and blinked as they adjusted to the light. He was bound to a chair in the cabin he had stowed away in. Haliat was sitting in front of him, leaning forward in her chair, his Revenant across her lap. She held a Phalanx up against his head, but it wasn't worn enough to be his. Her's then. Haliat looked pretty pleased with herself.

The krogan, Kalok, paced by the door, testy and hungry, apparently. Unlike Haliat, he was armored, light-blue metal plates gleaming against his grey scales. A Locust submachine gun strapped to his hip. Tirik found it odd that the krogan would have such a lightweight weapon, until Kalok turned to pace, revealing Graal Spike Thrower across his lower back. That was more like it.

Another human female sat on the crates in the corner. The airlock-woman. From the bandages on her shoulder, this was the person he'd struck with the talon. She was more muscular than Haliat, her face was sharper, harsher. Megan Laforge. Fierce combatant and, if the intel was good, Haliat's personal bodyguard. If the intel was really good, the two were closer than that.

"Interesting how roles can reverse in the span of a few minutes isn't it, merc?" Haliat said, drawing his attention. "Now, how did you find us? Hm? Who sold us out?"

Tirik laughed and then grimaced for the pain in his face, "Sold you out? Made some enemies have we?"
Haliat stood up quickly, taking the Revenant in one hand and pressing the Phalanx to his forehead, "Listen, merc. I'm in no mood for games. My entire crew thinks I should kill you on the spot. For now, I disagree. The only reason you're still alive is because I believe you're of some value. So you better think really hard about your next words."

Tirik looked at the gun and then into the woman's eyes. "If I tell you, then why would you keep me alive?"

She held his gaze for a moment and then lowered the gun. "Fine, if that's how you want to play it," she said turning away from him, "Kalok, eat one of his legs."

The krogan took a step forward. A throaty voice came over the intercom.

"Boss, I need you on the bridge."

She looked up at the ceiling, "I'm a little busy, Malus."

"Now!"

"Megan, with me. Kalok, watch him. No eating until I get back," she barked as she left. Megan soon followed. And Tirik was left with Kalok. They stared at each other.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Tirik sneered.

"What?"

"To know that I came this close to ruining your entire life, this close to humiliating you without you even—"

The krogan's backhand to the side of his head cut him off, knocking the chair over. Tirik saw stars.

"Boss said I couldn't eat you. Never said anything about beating you." Kalok picked him up as if he weighed nothing at all, and sat him back down before delivering another blow to the other side of his face. Tirik hit the floor again, the iron taste of blood in his mouth. "Maybe Boss'll thank me," Kalok mused as he picked him up again, "maybe a little pain will loosen your tongue. Maybe she'll get mad." Tirik thought the krogan was going to set him down again, but instead the brute flung him against the side of the cabin. It wasn't nearly as painful as the punches, but that wasn't the point of it. With strength like that, the krogan could pop his head easier than a heat clip. "But that'll be okay, because hurting you'll still be fun." He flashed a predator's smile.

The room pulsed a dull red. At first, Tirik thought a coolant pipe had been shattered by the throw but then the alarm blared. WAAAHN, WAAAHN, WAAAHN. A VI came over the loud-speaker. "All hands to stations. Hostile contact imminent." It repeated the phrase after every scream of the alarm.

Kalok glared at him and yelled. "What did you do, meat?"

"This isn't me!" Tirik shouted.

"You better hope not." The door shut behind Kalok and Tirik was alone. He scrambled up awkwardly to a crouch, still bound by the chair. The chair was solid, so smashing it wasn't an option. He'd left a supply pack in the room as a fallback if things got out of hand, which at this point he had to say that they had. He was lucky they'd decided to hold him in this room. Obviously, the gang wasn't used to taking prisoners. Having his hands tied behind the chair made it difficult to find the spare talon, but once found, it made it easy to free himself. Unfortunately, the talon was all he had—they'd confiscated everything else.

As he surveyed his equipment, another thought crossed his mind: what was going on out there? Was the Hegemony taking issue with the human-controlled vessel being so close to their airspace? The ship still moved along at a steady hum, no shock of shots fired or taken.

He went to the console by the door. He prayed the VI wasn't voice-locked.

"Computer, give me a feed of outside cams."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the screen crackled to life and he saw them.

He'd been out of touch with Hierarchy's official business for a good while. But he still read the reports that looked interesting or relevant, one of which was the Vakarian Dossier.

Which is why he recognized the massive starships that swarmed around Khar'shan, setting the planet's atmosphere ablaze with the wreckage of ships and satellites. The Vakarian Dossier was right.

The Reapers had returned.

And they were blocking the Phaeton's path to the relay.