Fear and Loathing in 2185.
The Citadel spans kilometres through the nebula, a floating teardrop hanging delicately in the balance of ever expanding space. Forty four point seven kilometres of space station and without star maps it would be impossible to find along with it's thirteen point two million residents. Some days it felt like you could open a door and see a real horizon, feeling the non artificial breeze overwhelm your senses. Cold, warm, it wouldn't matter. No door exists on a space station though, only a standardized ten pound per square inch airlock. Minimum. Imagine coming home after a drunken binge that started innocently enough in the presidium that has now pulled all of your weight down into the depth's of the wards. The last thing you want with a cracked red nose and headache is to be trapped inside pressurized tin can while a small breach in the ventilation systems floods your district or a systems error causes secondary power failure. All that happens is everyone looks down at their omni tools for a second before going back to whatever the hell they were doing. Sections are sealed but you can still walk around your building since every area has to come with it's own systems. Your ultra futuristic space station having technical problems? Don't worry! Just walk into any of the hundred other space stations contained within this one!
That's right, the citadels equivalent to weather are technical fuck ups.
So to summarize.
The Citadel, built by ancient aliens and found by the Asari, conquered by corporations who built up it's arms, ruled by a bureaucratic state named the council, and they still haven't found a way to clear out a hangover in less than the time it takes to get to work. So now you're late for work because you're trapped inside your tin can with only the food in your pockets and a splitting headache. All while this is supposed to be, wait for it, the future!
"Not that I believe in any sort of future, mind you."
The groan responding from the kitchen was reassuring, maybe because Caelso was inclined to agree with him. If only due to the similar hangover and the relative comfort of the fake metal floor, a harsh white light blossomed indicating the fridge was being opened. The only source of light that was active.
Still, while their opinions deferred on some matters it was nice to party with someone that could keep up. Even better for that particular acquaintance to have the same morning routine.
"Hey Cael wake up man we gotta go." Moving towards the kitchen arms outstretched to look where the eye's couldn't see while carefully placing each foot down to make sure anything stepped on was strong enough to take it. The subtle dance of the morning was all too familiar.
Now here was a man of true grit, Caelso Reminus. Despite his roman sounding name this fine specimen of Turian bone was more human than any I'd ever have the pleasure of meeting. No bullshit about honour or family, no rigorous training for him unless you count the red sand cup. A particular prize he had won during a rather uncivilized social event, however as all renowned trophies begin life being won, all must eventually be sold for hard currency. He lay in the Turian equivalent to a bachelors bathrobe. Head sticking inside the crisper drawer of an emotionless, silver monolith.
"The drawer better be somewhere in here I need to put some lemons-."
"They're all gone."
The mind processes for a moment. "What?"
"After you bought 'em we did suicide shots before hitting the strip." The condensation accumulating inside the drawer made seeing his face impossible, his dual toned voice sounded like he was in a fish bowl.
"Which one?"
"What?" Cael began the process of removing himself from the fridge unit.
"Which strip bar? Roxanne's? The Mint? Chora's for fuck's sake?"
"Why don't you go look outside and see now fuck off I need painkillers." Carapace had stabbed through tight spots on the bathrobe he was wearing, the turian scuttled past and found the bathroom.
"Were all out!" The bathroom was sealed before I could finish shouting, the last half echoed through the stark white light. Remembering the route taken before, I made my way back to where I woke up. It seemed like a nest was made out of all the towels and blankets in the apartment, each stained with any number of liquids. Not the worst place to sleep, surely. Omni-tool nowhere to be found I reach for the switch on the side of the wall. In an instant the window goes white blinding eye's and peeling away dead skin with a flourish of intensity. The light powerful enough to push me back onto the makeshift bed to the side, still blinded, still hungover, and still on this damn station.
But where?
Peaking open each eye one at a time before trying to look into another sun took time. But when I did…
"FUCK."
It was the strip of course, famous Silversun strip housing outlet stores for every major player of the galactic arms market. Most people in the galaxy only saw it in vid's, but it was also my first time seeing it too. It was easy to lose myself in the electric valley for a few moments, it's radiant blue's and colourful tourer's for a moment almost making it seem like they lived on an organic world.
Cael's head poked out of the bathroom displaying a look of casual indifference. "Relax man the sand's over here." His talons loosely holding a small baggie. "What's the deal with you?"
"Were at the strip. No, were facing the entire strip head on. You know what that means?"
He looked around the now bright room for a few moments. "This is not where we started."
A beat stuck in the moment like a pin before the two of them roared back in laughter, minutes past before it became too painful. But christ laughter really is the best medicine.
"C'mon Veeto" Cael's head disappeared back into the bathroom. "Lets get rid of this evidence then run."
The punchline to the joke now long gone at the sound of snorts coming from beyond, Veeto stood once again and made his way to the powder room. Each of them taking turns dipping their fingers into the baggie until it only had a slight red residue left. The high coming on strong after the ten minutes of constant inhalation, the two grabbed what items that could be identified and exited the room without talk.
Cael having found no clothes of his own besides the bathrobe opted to tighten the rope and pretend like nothing was wrong. I was pretty sure the only other item that was his (the soap's were in fact, complementary) were the turian equivalent to sunglasses. Black and smooth shaped specifically for his head, important for people such as ourselves to have. The only clothes I found were the ones I had on me. Indigo pants, brown boots, grey shirt and a black jacket, all twisted and rough from what looked like they were years after the wash date.
The best part of sand was the come up.
All of your hopes and dreams for what this new high could bring, the adventures possible with a simple step out the door. No arrangement of words could describe that sense of knowing that their is a time and a place for you in this world. It wasn't that your mind was expanded, everything just made sense.
That lasted about a few seconds until they reached the elevator.
Entering was fine, nobody was in the hallway on the way there but as the door satisfyingly closed with a swoosh the fear filled the silence it left behind. The confinement of it wasn't helping but what was truly disturbing was the sense of non motion. Living on a space station isn't like living on a planet. The gravity feels different, like a loose thread still clinging to the rope. One minute it's there, then next, poof.
*Ping*
The door opens revealing a rather straight faced asari, young, early two hundred's give or take.
"Uhm, it's okay.." The painful look of innocence no two hundred year old being should still have the capacity for reaches for the next elevator button. "I'm actually going..up." With that, the doors shut once again this time the smooth shut is much more relaxing.
"Damn how many floors does this place have?" Cael pulled out a neatly hand rolled creeper while asking.
"Hopefully enough to get rid of the smoke before ground floor arrives." While he patted his pockets for a light I reached into my jacket and pulled out one for him.
"Please, might get a few millionaires to calm the fuck down."
Each pull felt so smooth, the slow come on for powders mixes well with the fast action of inhalation. Each nerve felt less like an exploding biotic sun and more like, just, you know, like, a nice smooth line running across your vision. Transcending time and space to exist solely as a compass for your being.
"You think their are any camera's in that room? Or in this one?" Cael voice resonated uncaringly.
"Probably." I shrugged.
Out of the peace a hum rose to an insufferable decibel, the sound all around as an assault on every sense. What was worse, they appeared to descending at an observable rate.
"Holy fuck Veeto the elevator's fucked!" Cael searching for any hand hold possible but the elevators had none.
"We didn't do anything to it!" The fear now back, being smashed to death in a smoky tin can while tripping is not preferable. "Quick, we can fix it. Omni tool!" The hum so loud all we could do was shout.
"Where's yours?!"
"Probably up some stripper for fucks sake!"
*Ping*
As the elevator doors open smoke rolls out into the lobby, it looks alien to the neutral blue's and general sterility of the design. Almost immediately it dissipates into the automatic air filters without a sound leaving a half naked turian clinging to the walls and an obviously agitated human grasped onto his leg. The only thing that could have made it worse were if the people standing in said lobby had heard the shouts coming from the second floor.
Which is exactly what happened.
With a couple coughs and a few sniff's, the two of them walk out into the lobby. Pair's of eye's (or whatever Hanar have, mind eye...things) followed every step.
"What do we do Veeto, their looking right at us." His obvious panic held back to look as stoic as possible.
"Act casual."
And as a sun rises on a million distant worlds, so did the sun rise outside the entrance of the hotel on to the strip itself. The walkways filled with shoppers and tourists, criminals and honest folk alike going this way and that. The two stood outside and felt the artificial air as a the new day stretched out before them.
Strangers to everyone who walked by, one produces two cigarette's, lighting both and handing one to the other. No words said, none given.
"Today's going to be trouble, so were going to have to arm ourselves. To the teeth."
The look shared is small to anyone not looking, but it lives for a moment or two.
"Shit, it wouldn't be any other way." I laugh and then he follows too.
END PROLOGUE.
All Bioware property is their own.
OC is mine.