A/N: (These notes were last updated 29 May 2016)
This is essentially a continuation of its prequel Confidentiality, however it can stand on its own as almost every major event from Confidentiality will be briefly recapped. Aside from being about Tevos and Aria's affair amid the problems arising in their respective homes, this is also a coming-of-age story for Liselle. This time around the story's going to be a bit darker and very much unlike its prequel. Occasionally a chapter will begin with a news article, acting as a mode of exposition in that they give auxiliary information about the story's current events. Also, this fic will be much more fleshed out in terms of the universe's details, supplied by headcanons. All of which will be very reasonable/realistic and not cause any conflicts with existing lore. This is going to be a long ride but I'm excited to see this project in completion.
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Rating: M for scenes of intense violence, gore, sex, and drug mention/use. If you think you're vulnerable to any of these topics, I'd advise staying away. Keep yourselves safe!
GODDESS BLESS THE QUEEN
[ Chapter 1: Ghosts ]
Year 2081 CE
.
Athame was but a name only invoked when there were no others
to hear the pleas of subjects who beseeched her
"Bless and keep our vainglorious Queen
as she faces a grievous turn of fate."
But what blessings could a dead deity spare a Queen; the mighty, the wealthy, the avaricious,
who rejects the need for divine favor to conquer and rule like the gods themselves?
.
THE TAYSERI GAZETTE — "Lucen's Third Coming"
A recent resurgence of the illegal substance Alunigen B2 [more commonly known by its street name 'Lucen Dust'] in all five Wards of the Citadel has C-Sec officials scratching their heads over where—and by whom—the drug is being smuggled and distributed. First documented approximately eighty years ago as a crude stimulant specifically appealing to asari users, Alunigen B2 was immediately discovered to have severely harmful side effects such as gradual loss of biotic control and deterioration of fertility. Along with its first ban, Council-funded rehabilitation clinics opened their doors to Alunigen B2 users to aid them in restoring their health and productivity.
Thirty years later Lucen Dust flooded Council space again, originating from labs presumably established on Omega, whose de facto leadership funded and managed distribution into the Attican Traverse, and from there, into Council territory. This permutation of Alunigen B2 was a significant departure from its previous crudeness, but when multiple non-asari deaths were linked to overdoses [as non-asari races are far more susceptible to substances infused with high concentrations of element zero], law enforcement ramped up their efforts to clean up the Wards and identify the source. After weeks of tense political deliberation and the narrow avoidance of a skirmish between Council space and the Terminus Systems, an agreement and peace treaty were conceived between Asari High Command and Omega representative Aria T'Loak to cease all smuggling operations and hostilities.
The third coming of the 'Lucen Dust' is currently nebulous in origin. As one anonymous asari informant who helped lead C-Sec to an arrest says, "It's a phantom drug. It comes and goes. Shows up quietly one day, then disappears in the same way once C-Sec has figured out where it's coming from. I've lived through all three of its incarnations. Never tried it until this time. But even as good as this incarnation may be, it's no substitute for a meld. Melds cost less, too. Made me realize that I was better off telling C-Sec and keeping myself clean. I'm lucky I was able to stop myself—most people aren't so lucky. We're not even sure how dangerous the Lucen Dust is this time around."
C-Sec has made this press release asking anyone with information, whether in individual dealer names or sightings of the drug in any form, to please contact them. Rewards for tipping successful arrests are posted on their extranet site.
[EXTRANET LINKS: C-SEC HOMEPAGE, C-SEC TIP LINE, ANONYMOUS TIP LINE EXTENSION]
"The [Alunigen B2] is impressively refined," says C-Sec detective Jonum Adonis. "We're almost certain it's coming from somewhere beyond Council space. A lab capable of mass producing a drug with such unvarying quality would not be able to last under the radar for long on our worlds. It must be coming from a region where regulations and laws are incredibly lax, or altogether nonexistent. Be it the Traverse, the Terminus Systems, or even from somewhere nearby, we're quite confident that the origin will be found, followed by either a diplomatic confrontation, or a forceful one. Whichever the circumstances warrant."
:::
There was a great commotion of chatter rising up into the heights of the main Council Chamber, bouncing off the wide glass panes, and echoing back around the evening-hued interior. People were bustling about as per usual. All congregating, discussing, and conducting all actions with the hurried speech and long strides found in those who still had much left to do before the day's end, and perhaps without adequate time to do it. Not even the asari councilor was immune to the contagious rush of bodies and sound; she headed a small flock of assistants as they cut a path across the chamber toward their destination, immersed in concise discourse.
"Spectre Neora's report says the Lucen Dust is coming from Omega," said an aide, Savina, struggling to read from a datapad while matching her superior's haste and avoiding collisions with other bodies. "But we don't have so much as a potential distributor name. We only have records of a few ships with the cargo passing through the local relay, all registry from Omega. But that's still insufficient evidence to say the Lucen Dust is being funded and produced there."
"Although it isn't sufficient evidence to press formal charges," Councilor Tevos replied as a small group of hanar diplomats respectfully parted in their wake, "it does justify the asking of questions. We will see what Aria T'Loak has to say, or simply what she may know about this. And she will know something."
"I just answered a call from Irissa," said Eleni, with one finger pressed to her earpiece. "She's asking you to stop silencing your incoming calls, and to say 'hello' to Aria T'Loak for her. There was a sarcastic inflection."
"Of course," Tevos said, managing to respond with an iota of wry amusement. She received a datapad from an assistant whom she previously requested to bring up records of all the various ships recently stopped within Citadel space for drug possession.
Eleni continued relaying Irissa's call while the councilor skimmed the records. "Irissa says she hopes Aria's guilty, and... she says Spectre Tela Vasir has just checked in, and to check your private inbox. Spectre Vasir has likely sent in her report by now."
Tevos passed the datapad back to the assistant before accessing her omni-tool, where she selected and opened the most recent document appearing in her inbox. As the group reached the halls lining the chamber's side, a door unlocked upon their approach, rolled open, and permitted their entry. Tevos scanned the report, absorbing as much information as possible during that brief period of survey. When she was finished, she spoke grimly, "She's reporting Omega's involvement as well."
"I'm not surprised," said Savina. "All the trouble T'Loak caused years ago? People don't just stop that sort of thing once they've started. People don't change their core natures, and people like Aria T'Loak couldn't even be bothered to try. She's probably back for revenge, just as we feared."
"If she is back for revenge, then I have failed," Tevos said bleakly enough to subject them to uniform silence. Her mind was backpedaling to the past, to the treaty she and Aria toiled to create. Had it been all for naught, as the other councilors at the time warned her? She despaired to think that her first major act of galactic diplomacy was destined for ruin. It had endured a half-century without major incident, so why would Aria let it crumble now? How could it possibly benefit her? Any gains Aria could make from another encroachment into Citadel territory would be horrifically exiguous if not nonexistent. Rather, it would only spell her destruction, as it nearly had fifty years ago.
Fifty years, Tevos thought again, humbly marveling at the passage of time. Fifty years in the past not only marked their treaty's inception, but also the last time Tevos had encountered Aria in the flesh. It was an understatement to say that she had burned a permanent scar in her memory—a solemn reminder of just what reckless abandonment of good judgment lied within her potential, the powerful influence that perverse curiosity could potentially hold over her, and how easy it was to slip into relations which could quickly lead her career to a messy, tragic end. She kept her memories of Aria sealed away in the furthest reaches of her head where no one would ever see them, left to ferment into a vague daydream replayed in her mind so many times that its realism had begun to distort. To dally with Aria T'Loak, even very briefly... had it even happened in truth, or had Tevos fallen victim to an ailment of sense and fabricated it all?
It had been too long for it to matter anymore. Whatever happened between them had eroded away with distance and time. Only a ghost remained, an intangible memory doomed to complete deterioration. It was her responsibility to let her fascination decay, to allow it to warp into an abstract vestige of something that might have actually been, and nothing more. She then dismissed her thoughts, finding them unwise to carry with her into an extremely important conversation with the de facto Queen in mind.
When the councilor and her company reached the comm room, they awaited her directive.
"You may all go ahead and return," she said. "Except Eleni, if I may keep you a while longer."
"Of course, Madam Councilor. I'll wait right outside."
After the other assistants had departed, Tevos entered the comm room, activated the module, and placed a call to span a tremendous amount of emptiness dappled by stars, relaying across the countless buoys and finally reaching the perilous fortress of Omega. She waited a few minutes for her call to be answered, thinking on how she hadn't spoken with Aria for a quite a while. For a few years now, in fact, as there had been little reason to speak to her. Aria had mostly honored the agreements of their treaty up until the present, and so Tevos rarely had anything to say to her—only when unfortunate errors or incidents occurred did the councilor contact her, or vice versa in a few unusual cases, but every verbal exchange had been thoroughly stripped of personal investments and rendered cold and empty. Curiously, that had brought Tevos relief.
At last her call was answered, and a familiar figure's hologram came into view. A spectral, ungraspable representation; a body of light. Aria was seated, arms lain across the back of a couch with a leg crossed over the other, while bearing an expression of suspicion and mild vexation in her shimmering features.
"Hello, Tevos," she said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Her cryptic sarcasm had been preserved flawlessly over the years, causing Tevos to suddenly remember why they avoided correspondence like a disease. "The Citadel has its eyes upon Omega once more," she replied, wasting no time on pleasantries. "Alunigen B2 has found our wards again, and the majority of evidence accumulated over the past month points in your direction. I'm calling you to descry why this is so."
Aria gave a small tilt of her head, processing what seemed to be the prelude to an accusation. "It's not coming from me," she answered nonchalantly, shifting her position to a more comfortable one. "And even if it was, why would I confess? You just might have made the mistake of revealing your knowledge of my supposed operation, which would inspire even more discretion on my part to keep eluding you."
"The evidence is damning, Aria," said Tevos. "No amount of improved discretion could conceal you from the allegations for long. Instead of a mistake I might have made, you'd be better off to perceive it as a friendly warning of what may come if you are formally charged. Or does the possibility of embargoes, sanctions, and further censure by High Command not concern you?"
Aria paused to deliberate in silence with herself, nodding a few times to convey her understanding of the councilor's threat. "You know, you never seem to contact me unless you suspect me of doing something wrong. Over time it's conditioned me into automatically cringing and dreading to see your ID pop up."
"If that's true, then it's reciprocated. You've only contacted me when the Citadel was doing something which made it difficult for your illicit activities to persist, or in an attempt to manipulate me into giving you something you wanted. Usually things well outside my ethical customs."
The hologram's frown nearly vanished. "Disregarding what you think I'm doing wrong now, I'll have you know that on Omega, I'm virtually omnipotent," Aria said, lifting her hands from the couch's back in illustration before resting them again. "I know what comes in and what goes out on my station. No one could export a substance like that—especially in mass quantities—without my knowledge. I can guarantee you that. So there's only two possible realities at this point: either I'm lying to you, or your intel is wrong and it's not coming from Omega. You can pick your favorite."
"Or maybe your intel is wrong," Tevos suggested. "Aria, we've stopped ships coming in from Omega. My Spectres have explicitly confirmed that in their official reports. Surely you know something about—"
"Yeah, get me some elasa, on the rocks. No, nothing else."
"Who are you talking to?" Tevos asked her, watching Aria speak toward her left. "I thought I specifically flagged this call as needing privacy. No one else should be hearing this, Aria."
"Calm down, Councilor. If you want to keep talking about this I'm going to need a drink to get me through it."
Tevos was visibly displeased. Those who knew the asari councilor well understood that whatever semblance of emotion she let manifest should be doubled, or even tripled, to discern what she actually felt.
They exchanged a stare for quite a while, filled with tenuous layers of silent adversity. At one point, Aria diverted her gaze to her left, reached out, and brought her arm back with a glass in hand. She sipped it, expended some time to gently swirl the ice around, and took another drink.
While Tevos observed with a frown on her lips, she realized that she still did not trust Aria's words. The Council's Spectres were skilled, experienced, elite—the very best of what their races had to offer. They could not all have made the same mistake, could they? The odds of that happening were extraordinarily slim, especially since they had worked independently of one another. On the other hand... the odds of Aria fibbing were by far more reasonable.
"You know I can't trust you," the councilor said, revealing her doubts. "Not over my Spectres. You know that."
"Yes, I know. And I don't care," Aria said with a gentleness that exuded underlying hostility. She set her drink aside and resumed. "Listen, Councilor. I don't care about your drug problem. It's not coming from Omega, and if you still think it is, you should seriously consider firing your incompetent Spectres. Either that's the case… or the drug producers and distributors are feeding those idiots false information to frame Omega." Aria withdrew into a brief state of pensiveness. "I think that's what's going on. Omega is the first suspect of this operation, and by shifting the blame to me, they can continue while you're distracted. They're obviously taking great measures to hide themselves. You just need to try harder to find them."
"But would it not be in your interest to help me find the source?" the councilor inquired. "You have great knowledge of Terminus factions, people, and events. Would it not ultimately benefit you to shift the Citadel's gaze from Omega to the real culprits?"
"Why should I help you? I don't regulate trade. I don't tell people what they can and can't sell. Actually, your culprits are probably bringing money into the Terminus Systems. Above all other things, I am a businesswoman and I have every incentive to allow them to continue without intervention."
Tevos stiffened. "Aria, we are still under treaty. You cannot enable this. I remind you again that Asari High Command remains ever-watchful of your movements and if they learn of your support, you will suffer their wrath."
"Still trying to scare me into cooperation? Tevos... this is a new era." A wicked smirk began to form on Aria's lips as she reached for her drink. "I'm not afraid of High Command. There's not enough real evidence for them to take a risk like that, and even if they were stupid enough to try, on Omega I remain untouchable. I'm the CEO. I'm the overseeing deity, the master of armies, fleets, and legions of agents. Businessmen and politicians from across the galaxy are in my pocket. Governments fear me, respect me. You see, Tevos..." She brought her drink to her lips, downing what remained and setting the glass aside again. "Over the years, our treaty has gradually become nothing more than my polite and magnanimous decision to not cause you trouble."
Tevos's lips pressed together into a thin line, affording her no other reaction. Aria assumed a preeminent posture, commanding and absolutely blooming with arrogance and certainty. The fires of her pride that had once violently burned now achieved a state of interminable complacency. She was confident. Power accrued over time elevated her, raising her up to Omega's summit where she lounged like, as she said, a deity. She was consumed by herself. Utterly lost to the delirium, the oxygen-deprived heights of highest ascendancy. And that greatly troubled Tevos.
Aria had always been egotistical and conceited, but she had never reached the point where genuine dismissal of Asari High Command, coupled with Citadel opposition, became a product of that arrogance. She was simply so swept up in the idea of herself and her glorious empire that she could no longer see the danger portentously forming on her doorstep. Did she truly believe all that she said, that trouble would not reach her if their treaty was broken as a result of this mess? Tevos remained incredulous.
"We will continue our investigation," Tevos said at last, keeping the perturbation of her tone to a minimum. "We will find more leads, gather evidence, and cover multiple systems. We will bring resolution to this problem in due time, and if you are at the heart of this, we will eventually discover that. Troubling times may find you, Aria. You are far from invulnerable. Never let that fact slip your mind."
Aria scoffed. "Thanks for the reality check, Councilor, but you need it more than I do. Those Spectres of yours aren't infallible. You shouldn't rely on them too much."
The assemblage of light vanished, leaving Tevos alone once again. She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb, lingering where she stood for a long moment before turning to the door. A request for STG aid along with the Spectres already tasked with the investigation was rapidly becoming more and more probable. When she emerged back into the hall, Eleni was awaiting her.
"What happened, Councilor?"
They began walking down the hall before Tevos answered. She attempted to piece together a pithy yet accurate summary. "Aria T'Loak denied the allegations," she decided to say. "And she claims to know nothing about the origins. I'll make a report in an hour or so. What's next on today's agenda?"
Her secretary accessed a digital planner. "Well, ma'am, this might be a good opportunity to discuss your attire for the turian councilor's inauguration in a few days. You've been putting it off for a while and we're running out of time for that."
Tevos gave her a small smile as they reached the central chamber. The droning voices engulfed them once more. "Only because I've been incredibly busy, Eleni. Surely you won't accuse me of procrastination."
"Oh no, of course not," she said, returning the smile. She then handed Tevos a datapad. "Anyway, I've already contacted the appropriate consultants, and they've agreed on this list of designers. Both highly recommended the asari cuts of Victa Jansius's recent collection—this dress in specificity." Eleni tapped the screen, prompting an image of a black dress with a wide V-shaped collar, bordered by dark, iridescent green material that appeared again from the slopes of the waist, extending from the sides and down to sleek, parallel lines of turian aesthetic. "Very suiting for the occasion. It's my personal favorite as well. You'd look quite elegant in it."
"It's fetching," Tevos agreed. "What other dresses have they recommended?"
As they traveled to an elevator, Eleni continued to discuss the councilor's attire options in detail with her, reading comments from the consultants, highlighting the social and cultural implications associated with each dress, and sharing her own opinions whenever requested.
:::
Within a haze of crimson light and wafting smoke from cigarettes, the assembly of those summoned to Aria's briefing gathered around their boss, listening to every word with undivided attention. They were some of Aria's best: high-ranking officers and agents with unwavering loyalty and aptitude, information brokers who spent most of their waking hours submerged in vast networks of intelligence, and hacking experts capable of stealing whatever secrets their broker allies could not buy or extort. Drinks and datapads littered the table space they sat around. Afterlife's colors and light emanating from the tall hologram column glistened in many alert eyes, their owners of varying races and varying goals, yet united under the singular purpose of carrying out Aria T'Loak's will.
Aria sat forward, influencing her operatives to do the same. "There's a syndicate somewhere out there smuggling Lucen Dust. Some of it has come to Omega. None has left it. Yet the Citadel has records that say otherwise. I want to know why, because they're harassing me, demanding to know why I'm supposedly involved, and whether I know anything about this. And I will know about this, thanks to all of you. Information is power and wealth; and not only do I want to know something the Council doesn't, but I also have a point to prove to the asari councilor. The fact that her Spectres are incompetent morons. And we all know this is true. We all know that when something needs to be done, Omega's finest can see to it faster and more thoroughly than anyone else in the galaxy."
A few ambitious nods arose.
"I want you all to find these smugglers," Aria continued. "I want you to do whatever it takes to wrestle the information out of whoever's keeping it a secret. I have thousands of credits awaiting you all, and every one of you will receive pay regardless of who delivers the accurate intel. That way you don't have to slit each other's throats over the reward. Just get me the intel. Now go, all of you. Get started."
The congregation obediently dispersed, armed with their skills and orders. Aria's usual guards returned to their posts in the lounge after they left. She motioned to one, beckoning him closer to hear what she had to tell him.
"Send someone to get more drinks for the patrons in the lower lounge. And ask them if they want anything to eat," she told the turian, who nodded. "Bring the dancers back in, too."
The guard left, and her demands were swiftly met. Another round of complementary drinks were delivered to the shareholders, businessmen, and politicians hailing from the Traverse, all finding merriment in the hospitality and amenities supplied by Aria T'Loak, reinforcing not only their opinion of her, but also their inclination to remain acting in her favor. When the dancers arrived and stepped into their normal positions, Aria reclined into the sofa, assessing her living situation and basking in the sheer wealth, assets, connections, and influence she had hoarded over the last century.
What did the councilor think of it, she wondered? Was she growing apprehensive of Omega's silhouette looming on the horizon, casting a larger shadow than ever before? Was she impressed by the exponential growth Aria had galvanized?
During her musings, Aria abruptly realized that even after half a century, Councilor Tevos's judgement continued to matter to her. She fought back a scowl, resenting the intense compulsion she felt to prove her superiority to someone whose opinion shouldn't have had any bearing on her self-satisfaction. But Aria wanted to be seen as a legitimate wielder of power. She wanted Tevos to bend like all the others did; lapping up her bribes, tailoring policy to her advantage, and praising her image.
But she never did. So they struggled against one another through an old feud, a dynamic volley of superiority whose upper-hand seemed to shift on daily intervals. Their contest had only irreversibly transformed over time. It was now a question of whom, given that they were removed from each other's company and whatever they could gain from it, would grow to be the better. They had parted in the councilor's office with the bitter taste of another war's dawn in their mouths. A silent war waged over an incredible sea of stars, only inflicting injury through the medium of news broadcasts spotlighting their triumphs and failures, and through surreptitious gloats hidden behind the political veil over their rare, sporadic conversations. It was another war of pride, slightly altered for the changing circumstances, but identical in motivation.
And now, being brought together to review the results of their battles had only revealed that Tevos still believed to have copious authority over her. Neglecting to accept Aria's obvious formidability was inexcusable.
Tevos's threats were inconsequential, for Aria did not fear Asari High Command, nor even the Citadel. Omega had become just as mighty as either of them.
The station and its self-proclaimed leader were bursting with prosperity. Aria had very recently celebrated her first centennial of uninterrupted rule, immersing the many districts under her control with something reminiscent of a holiday's joviality. And Afterlife, the focal point of all her territory, hadn't seen a party so impressive, so undeniably significant and symbolic of Omega's acceptance of a new successful ruling power, in hundreds and hundreds of years. Every floor had been in an uproar—bleeding alcohol, the progenitor of intoxicated brawls, the muse of drug-induced fervor, and the catalyst for blaring dance floors whose occupants moved like many cells within the body of that colossal nightclub—guided by the environment, the heavy reverberations in their chests from the bass, the lights, and the warm proximity of countless others. All in harmony, more or less, to celebrate the imperishability of their Queen, and to delight in the decadent gifts she bestowed them. The whole galaxy had seemed to watch and marvel, whether in person or while enviously viewing the innumerable vids virally appearing on the extranet.
How had Tevos perceived that night? Had she been watching too? Had one of her little secretaries informed her of what festivities celebrating Omega's prosperity and lawless rapture took place as they spoke? Had she tapped her fingers nervously on her desk while watching the plethora of fists raising in Aria's honor, fists very capable of taking up arms in their Queen's name?
Aria had been their idol, the very center of the universe during those hours. There was no question of it. She was the supreme warlord who had set out, conquered, and returned to spill forth her acquired riches to whomever swore to her their undying allegiance.
That night put her in a blissful illusion where all of Omega was under her control. It was not, of course. The station was massive, athwart in dark corners for subversive factions to hide and oppose her from. She doubted if Omega had ever been united under a single authority, but that fantastic dream was her prime ambition. She systematically smoked the dissidents out of their holes and laid violent and successful sieges to areas resisting her control. With the passage of every year, it seemed, that goal steadily drew closer.
It was imminent. Her complete dominion was absolutely imminent, she was convinced—and there would undoubtedly be another party reserved for that day.
A chime in her earpiece lifted her mind from the wells of thought. She answered it, identifying the caller as her right-hand lieutenant. "What is it, Aetius?"
The turian's flanging voice reached her. "Aria, you might want to come down a few levels. To the batarian hell. There's been an incident—just a few minutes ago, apparently—and I think you'd want to see this."
:::
When Aria stepped out from the elevator and into the deep, eerie blue light bathing the floor of her destination, the ghoulish sea of patrons parted in her wake, many of whom appeared flustered, or even frightened for a reason Aria was presently ignorant of. As she walked, the floor's music persisted, unfazed by whatever unfortunate event had just occurred beneath its thick, heavy, nearly palpable presence; undulations of a well-conducted din, brimming with spirit and power—the haunting timbre of batarian string instruments, taut drums, the clamor of zills raining into the soundscape, all seamlessly fusing into the computer-generated, extravagantly buzzing layers.
As she approached the bar at the back of the floor, the shifting blue light gleamed in a faultless varnish over the main attraction: behind the crescent-shaped bar, a huge golden statue depicting the batarian deity Anoragot rose on high, to the very ceiling, towering over the many bodies, belittling them beneath his gargantuan dimensions. And he was unnervingly eyeless. Yawning, blackened voids were in the place of his four sockets, staring into nothingness. He was the batarian god of death, lord of their underworld. It was he who devoured the pathetic deceased in blindness, only able to sense the nature of their souls, which were indistinguishable from those of his true meal—slaves and lesser species.
Waiting at the bar was Aria's lieutenant, standing with three other armed guards who kept people out of the immediate area. She reached him and spoke closely to his green-marked face so her voice would carry over the music. "What do we have?"
Aetius Visiom wordlessly pointed upward at the massive statue, drawing Aria's eyes in the indicated direction. At first, she saw nothing amiss; and then, her gaze locked on a single, gruesome anomaly. In one of Anoragot's outstretched hands, representing his hunger for lowly departed souls, lied the motionless body of a batarian man.
"We're waiting until you give the all-clear to move him," said Aetius. "Only because that's Olat Dar'nerah."
Aria frowned, her pallid eyes still fixated on the dead man. She folded her arms. Olat Dar'nerah, the son of Ralot Dar'nerah, had been an active member of her administration for years now, not only proving to be just as mentally and physically formidable as his father had been, but also acting as a liaison between Aria and Ralot's pirate fleet, which Olat had inherited some few decades previously. Her frown deepened as the loss of a valuable ally caustically ate at her mind, rapidly warping her distress into rage toward whoever had the gall to kill him. "What happened?" she asked Aetius.
"I had a guy go up there and check him when we got here," said the lieutenant. "Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the back of the head. Point-blank, execution style. Small rounds so they didn't damage anything but the brain. And there's another thing… His eyes were gouged out. Right out of the skull. Looks like it was done with proper surgical tools rather than a cheap job with a knife. Not sure if it happened post-mortem or not, but I'd hope so for the bastard's sake."
"Why is he up there?" she said, gesturing with her head. "Who put him there?"
"Well, we asked about that. Asked the patrons what they saw. Everyone who saw something says that he climbed up there on his own and lied down. People thought he was just drunk. Some laughed at him, even. When one of the bartenders went over to check him, they found him dead as he is."
Despite the grim circumstances, Aria almost laughed at the recount. "And you expect me to believe that? I'm not about to put my faith in eyewitness testimony. It's dark in here, someone was murdered, and in a way that resonated with the superstitions of the majority on this floor. That already discredits most of what any of them have to say. No, I don't believe a single word of it. Let's just find the idiot who did this and take care of them." She paused, looking up at the body once more, shaking her head contemptuously. Revenge would be had. "Someone get him down from there. Get a thorough autopsy done."
"What about a proper burial?" a batarian guard bravely inquired. "He's a batarian and someone's put out his eyes! The soul has to leave through the eyes or it's condemned to rot and be devoured by Anoragot. We have a responsibility to help him or suffer the same fate through negligence."
Aria turned to address him, approaching the man closely enough for him to grow rigid with fear. She gripped his collar, yanking him in her direction. "Tell me, at this moment, who do you fear more? Anoragot, or me? While he may or may not exist, I do. You know that for sure. And you know what I'll do to you if you defy my orders."
He nodded multiple times in quick succession.
"So do as I say," said Aria. "And when you're done, you can do what you need to do for him. Understand?"
"Yes, boss."
"Good," she released him and looked back at Aetius, who had been overseeing a few other guards as they carried the corpse down. "Aetius."
The turian immediately turned his head in her direction.
"Follow me. We're going to view security footage."
She and her lieutenant left the scene behind, walking around the bar to the door marked for employee access only. They entered, emerging into a passage illuminated by the same blue as the rest of the floor, keeping their bodies doused in that purgatorial, cold depth of space. The music was attenuated now, low and thudding through the walls like the steady heartbeat of the nightclub, resonating from deep within. A few workers passed them; a pair of batarians instantly moving to one side, shrinking beneath the Queen's indomitable presence and clinging to the wall as they hurried by. When Aria and Aetius arrived in the dark surveillance room, lit by the many screens projecting live feeds of the current floor and the two above and below, a turian and volus turned away from their monitors to rise and greet her.
"Aria," said the turian. "We had a feeling you'd want to come here. We've got the playback ready." He motioned to the monitor he had been previously seated before.
"So you saw what happened?" Aria asked him while taking the chair. The glow of the monitors washed over her face as she brought her attention to the scenes captured by their electronic eyes. Aetius sat down in the chair beside his boss, pulling it over to get a better view.
"Yes," the turian security guard answered Aria's question. "…And we're still just as confused."
She interpreted his reaction as quite the foreboding one. However she gave it little weight, as she still needed to see for herself what happened. When Aetius pressed a finger to the console, the recording began to play.
"He'll show up in about eight seconds," said the volus, pausing to audibly inhale through his suit's breathing apparatus. He pointed at the floor's main doors. "Right there."
Sure enough, the form of Olat Dar'nerah arrived precisely when and where he was predicted to, passing through the doors and beginning to make his way toward his final resting place. He was a dark form among many, another individual to be lost amidst the organism of conglomerated others dancing and drinking themselves into hours of contentment.
"Pause it," said Aria, prompting Aetius to obey before their target was consumed by the crowds. "Zoom in. Let's take a look at his face."
The impressive resolution of their cameras, even while set in the bleak darkness, revealed Olat's face as sharply as it would appear in person. What was found rendered them all utterly silent.
Four gaping holes in the place of his eyes, glistening with blackened blood that dripped down the varying contours of his face like thin streams of tears, returned their stunned leers with an empty one. Aria reclined in her chair, studying the sight with scrupulous attention to minute detail. She was far more confounded than disturbed. As Aetius had reported, a bullet had been identified as the cause of death. Was it possible that Olat's eyes had been removed while he was still alive, then while traveling through the chaos of the club, someone had shot him? But no gunshots had been reported. A silencer of some sort, then? But then how did he end up in the statue's hand?
"Get a lock on him," Aria said, not wanting to overly speculate yet. "Play."
A red outline framed Olat's body as he strode through the center of the crowds. His path was absolutely straight with no detectable variation, not even to avoid patrons. He either brushed against them or shamelessly pushed past as his legs carried him ceaselessly forward, as if animated by an otherworldly force that had him travel this route and no other; by a trance, an instinctive migration, by the magnetic pull of the death god, beckoning him to his demise. When Olat left the field of vision, the recording automatically switched to a different angle.
"How did no one see that? How could an injury that horrific go unnoticed by all those people?" Aetius remarked in bewilderment.
"Imagine seeing that for an instant as he passed by," Aria said, not looking away from the monitor. "What would you have done? Would you have believed what you saw, in the dark, that this man's eyes had actually been gouged out while he was still alive? Would you go up to him and see if that nightmare was real, or would you rather just pretend that you hadn't seen anything and go about your business?"
Aetius shrugged. "I suppose I really wouldn't want to believe it. Especially since he doesn't seem to be in any agony."
Aria continued to watch the vid without taking her eyes off of Olat for an instant. She was half-anticipating a shot to the back of his head, half-anticipating… she didn't even know what. Anything to discredit the highly peculiar accounts of the eyewitnesses. When Olat's back was to the camera, she ordered Aetius to pause it again. "Stop and zoom in," she said.
He did as commanded, enhancing the image to focus on the back of Olat's head, and what they saw was just as jarring as their first discovery: the gunshot wound was there in all its dreadful glory, taunting Aria where she remained trapped within perplexity. "Play the rest of it," she said, frustration becoming apparent on her voice before the images began to move again. The remainder of the vid followed the stories with impeccable accuracy, from the moment the man climbed over the bar to the chagrin of the bartenders, scaled the statue without a single flaw in the undertaking despite his lack of vision, to when he lied down in Anoragot's massive hand, where the man went to rest for the last time. People were beginning to gather around the spectacle when Aria pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.
"This doesn't make any fucking sense," she growled, pacing behind the two chairs while watching the vid over Aetius's shoulder. People were throwing things at Olat, possibly finding the whole situation hilarious, until a few guards ordered them to stop. After restoring the peace and preventing any more projectiles from entering the air, a batarian bartender began to carefully scale the statue. He grabbed Olat's shoulder, shaking him, trying to rouse the man from his slumber, ignorant of its eternal hold. After a moment he suddenly drew away in fright, likely upon realization that Olat was very much dead, and nearly fell from his perch. The people below were moving now, their masses trembling with panic, retreating away from bar. After shakily climbing back down the body of Anoragot, the bartender staggered over to the guards.
"They called me after that," said Aetius. "And here we are."
"This doesn't make sense," Aria repeated, still lurking behind her employees while immersed in rapid, calculating thoughts. "Something happened to him before he entered Afterlife. Someone did something to him to make this happen. I want to know what, how, and why… I want to speak with that bartender." She pointed at the person in question. "Who is that? Bring them to me."
"It's Bothan Korgess," said the volus. "I'll call him up right now."
:::
Seated in a private booth beneath the same deathly blue that had cloaked the inexplicably reanimated man as he strode into the arms of a nefarious god, the bartender Bothan Korgess fought to keep his composure while under the scrupulous gaze of Aria T'Loak and her lieutenant seated nearby upon the booth's incomplete circle. It was almost painful to meet Aria's eyes and return her stare; their silvery incandescence burned through the underworldly gloom of lights that flashed, dimmed, and swept over their bodies again like a terrible lightning storm. They were a pair of torches piercing into him, illuminating whatever she wanted of his recollection with the same unforgiving harshness of a sun.
Aria could plainly see his nervous body language. He badly wanted to flee, but she kept him. There were many questions she wanted answered.
"I've heard a lot of accounts tonight," Aria said at length, folding her hands together onto the glass table set in their midst, "and they vary from person to person, but one feature remains the same. Olat Dar'nerah, a dead man, was seen moving himself into the position we found him in. Now, I want to hear your account. What happened?"
Bothan nodded a few times, gathering his voice. "Well, I didn't see him until he was near the bar. I didn't see his face at first, because, you know… I don't really take a good look at anyone unless they're ordering a drink." He stopped to watch Aetius offering his boss a cigarette before lighting a dextro-friendly variant for himself.
"Go on," said Aria. Although she sounded detached and distant Aria was closely listening, even while diverting her gaze to bring forth into existence a small orange flame; a sudden discordance within the surrounding cobalt aura that enveloped them. A lazy steam of smoke followed.
"He climbed over the bar while I was tending to a customer," Bothan continued. "He had already started to scale the statue by the time I noticed what he was doing." When Aetius offered him a cigarette, Bothan shook his head. "No thank you."
"Take it," Aetius insisted.
"I don't smoke. Bad for my health."
Aria removed hers from her lips, tapping some of the ashes into a tray mounted in the table, and tilted her head to the right. "I'm sure you get a lot of second-hand around here."
"Yes, well, I suppose I don't need to be making it worse for myself. But again, thank you," Bothan nodded, returning Aria's gesture by canting his head leftward. "Anyway… when the guy was climbing up, I yelled at him. Told him to get down, but he kept going. By the time he lied down in Anoragot's hand, people had crowded around to watch. They laughed at him. Started throwing things. Bottles. Food. Garbage. I went ahead and stopped them because I knew I'd end up being the one to pick up all their trash, so I told a guard to keep them back while I climbed up after the guy, who at the time I assumed was just drunk. So I pulled up a stool, climbed up the rest of the way, and tried to wake up the poor bastard. Shook him, shouted at him, jabbed at him, but he didn't do a thing. Then I took another step upward to get a better look at him when… when I saw what was wrong with him. Scared the shit out of me. I couldn't believe it. I almost fell right then, but managed to hang on and get myself down again in one piece. Then I called the guard. And… that's it."
Aria looked away from him, glancing about the booth in thought. She relaxed in her seat, pulling a leg up to rest over the other, and finally asked the bartender, "Did you know who Olat Dar'nerah was?"
"I knew the name, but not the face."
"How long have you been working here?"
"A little less than two months."
From where she sat comfortably nestled in the shadows, Aria asked him one final question. "What do you think happened, Bothan? What do you think was done to Olat, to… manufacture this scenario?"
He was silent for a long interval of time, all four eyes flitting about Aria's face. "I… I really don't know. I don't have the slightest idea. Maybe this is some sort of intervention."
"Intervention…?" she languidly repeated to provoke an elaboration.
"From the gods, perhaps," Bothan replied with caution. "They could be angry at him. At us. For all we know… maybe this is a warning. End-times, all that."
Aria's stony expression remained unchanging, slightly obscured by the tongues of smoke rising from the cigarette between her fingers. After a period spent gazing at him with frightening, livid eyes, she said, "You can go now."
"Yes ma'am," he said, graciously nodding before sliding out of the booth and heading back toward the bar.
When he was gone, Aetius turned to Aria. "The end-times, huh?" he mused, sounding jocund as a small puff of smoke left his jaws.
"Apparently," came her dry response.
He chuckled, shaking his head, but gradually became severe once more. "So what do you think is going on?"
Aria reached forward, smashing the remnants of her cigarette into the ashtray. "I think someone went to great lengths to fuck with us." While watching the last, dying tendrils wisp up from their grave like mournful spirits, she frowned, narrowed her eyes, and continued, "Because I don't believe in ghosts."
