"We're not going to make it!" the gondola operator shouted against heavy sleet. Even his slim silhouette was hard to make out, and they were literally three steps apart.
Gripping the slick railing, Gianna saw the grand mansion in the distance. They were long past the point of no return, he had to refuel if he wanted to cross the canyon by sundown.
"We're almost there!" Gianna hollered through chattering teeth. Noveria wasn't the warmest place in the galaxy, but these extreme temperatures were unbearable, even more so when the board sprung for cheap transport. But ever since the pulse signaled the end of the reaper war, no one wanted to operate in the area where reapers roamed. The frost stuck to her gloves like cake mix, clinging onto her arm and jacket in crystallized sheets.
"I hate this shit," Odin complained from his corner of the gondola. The new guy wasn't nearly as tough as he looked. At six foot two, he stood tall and brave, but after one hour of endless whining, she wanted nothing more than to toss this big baby overboard. "We be freezing our asses, all cause' this guy forgot to pay his taxes?"
"This guy didn't register his IPO, smart-ass. Investors are getting antsy and our bosses want answers," Gianna droned, taking great pleasure in boring the newbie with the more technical aspects of white collar crimes. Every transfer thought it was a cushy desk job until they found themselves on solo-missions up shit creek. It was a humbling experience, one she wished he was able to experience without her oversight. Damn board politics!
Odin shrugged, or shivered, she couldn't tell anymore. "I knew that," he shot back in a low voice. "Just don't get why we gotta do this in person."
"I thought you wanted facts with your whine?" Gianna taunted, before whipping back to the excited operator.
"Sweet jesus we made it!" Tim yelled. "Gosh darn it girly, I oughta borrow your eyes every now and then."
Gianna only smiled, resisting the urge to tell him he needed more than new eyes, preferably a whole new body. The old man was 90% cybernetic, yet even with enhancements all around, one couldn't beat the slow process of aging. Not even on Noveria. Tim, who used to be the best operator around, was slowly going senile. It was a miracle if he managed to dock his gondolas right let alone monitor their progression. But he was the only one crazy enough to bring them here so she cut him some slack.
The gondola jerked to a stop as the platform ascended. Gianna was the first one heading for the gate before the other men could get their bearings. Count Almeda's private dock was like a fairytale come true. The entire platform was made of gold, or at least something that appeared gold. A vibrant red carpet marked a path to the skywalk that connected the gondola to Almeda's mansion.
Servants in old school black and white uniforms swarmed her like she was royalty, but Gianna froze. The servants, the dock hands, even the guards were not human. The beings that came to greet her were reapers. It was hard to squash the instinct to run but even though these things hadn't hurt a single person after Shepard's final showdown, the galaxy at large gave most of them a wide berth. Some cities banned the reaper race all together, that included the husks, marauders and anyone who was indoctrinated. This left most of them populating the terminus systems and farther, while some planets were kind enough to reserve an 'undesirables' section, Noveria was no exception. But she never expected to see them in vicinity to royalty.
"Shit ... I don't like this, Parasini," Odin announced, cautiously walking up to her like a wounded deer. His hunched shoulders and suspicious looks at the armed marauders standing guard, didn't help the situation.
Deciding not to let her shit-head of a partner kickstart a trigger war, she turned to the nearest husk and put on a forced smile. "Hi, Count Almeda's expecting us?"
"Riiiiiight thiiiiiiis waaaaaay," the husk wailed, pointing to the skywalk opening that was lit up with two torches. Against the purple sky, it looked like the entrance to a graveyard, but the icky creatures already started making off with her carry-on, leaving her no choice but to follow.
Odin's hand came to her wrist, giving her the best excuse to flip him on his ass. "Wait!" he bellowed, shooting the husks a scathing glare. "Look no one said these things were involved. They're outlawed here. We should send for security and get them off station."
"Maybe I should send for a partner that's not a pussy?" Gianna snatched her wrist from his grasp and rounded on him. "They work for the Count. Do you think he'll want to talk to us let alone do business on Noveria if we round up his staff?"
He didn't reply, but his gaze burned holes through the creatures who stood ready to take his bags.
"Shut up and keep up. If you can't do that, take the gondola back with Tim," Gianna said over her shoulder as she stepped away. "You can tell the board how I need a new partner."
Odin took one look at the three husks basically humming with nervous energy, each one ready to grasp his carry-on should he decide to release his death grip on it. The marauders were tightening their grips on their triggers, seeing something they didn't like in his stare.
Tim broke the silence as he waddled over. "We're all fueled up, but I'm afraid I can't spend the night here. You might be stranded if I leave."
"Coooooount Alllllllmedaaaaaa, has acoooooooomodaaaaaaaations," the husk wheezed.
Odin jerked his bag away from the husk's hands. "Fuck that. And this. I'm heading back for that security team detail. This ain't what I agreed to." He stomped away, putting an end to the debate and successfully leaving her without backup.
Tim watched the display with a furrowed brow. "I know that look, Gianna. If you want to stay, stay. Just be careful is all," he said before heading back to his gondola
Odin was already in the gondola, mashing his omni-tool and trying to get reception. He didn't make eye contact and she felt a sense of pride at having confronted that big baby. But as the two men retreated, her resolve faded. The slow revelation spending the night all by herself in the company of a reclusive count and his reapers, didn't make it any easier.
As the husks lead her to the entrance, Gianna couldn't help but cast a parting glance at the retreating Gondola. Odin kept his gaze straight ahead, a smile playing on his lips as he spoke into his omni-tool. Figures, of course he would bail. That's why she preferred to work alone. That poor schmuck was going to have to explain to the board why he left her alone and for once maybe they would listen and stop trying to pair her up with losers.
What should have been a dingy skywalk was another architectural marvel. Even in darkness, the place was adorned to the nines. The rich red carpet stretched forever, while portraits of reapers hung on either side of the luxurious corridor.
It was too bad the paintings on the wall didn't get the royal treatment.
Instead of pretty things, they depicted reapers in the middle of horrific acts. Some were beaming red lasers onto farmlands, others were having weird tentacle wrestling matches. But it wasn't until the end of the corridor that the disturbing artwork was replaced with sneering portraits of distinguished politicians and descendants of the Almeda fortune. They were near perfect except for the fact that all of them had the markings of indoctrinated eyes. Lifeless, gaunt, eyes with swirls of darkness pooling in the retinas. It didn't make any sense since all of them were long dead before the reapers came.
Their hollow eyes seemed to follow her, lingering on her body, sneering at the odd time or two. Gianna shook her head, blaming her paranoia on lack of sleep.
"I take it you're exhausted?"
Gianna nearly jumped at the sight of Count Almeda before her. The regal man was dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes that citizens of Bekenstein would find too expensive. It was really more of a robe, but one that looked so beautiful that it offset the ugliness of its owner. Crimson red fabric, accentuated his broad shoulders, while a blue felt shirt drew attention from his neck and down to his stomach where it disappeared. The Count's strict posture and intimidating presence was offset by a warm smile. He wasn't handsome by any means, the loose flabs of skin at his cheeks made him look like a pudgy hound. He seemed to be aging naturally despite the tech available to someone of his wealth. It was too bad he couldn't do anything about his own indoctrinated eyes, mere wisps of blue under corrupted corneas. "Yes, I am," Gianna replied, regaining some composure. "I'm sure you're eager to—"
"If it's of any consolation," Almeda interrupted with a raised palm, "I would like to extend my hospitality to you for the night. You have traveled a long way on my behalf, it's the least I can do."
It was impossible to read the intentions behind those charred eyes. But it's not like she had any other choice, well aside from sleeping out on the docking station with the Marauders. Gianna swallowed her questoins and nodded. "Yes, that sounds wonderful, thank you, Count."
"Excellent!" The count boasted before ushering her inside. The husks rushed ahead of them with her carry-on, while Almeda took it upon himself to give her the grand tour.