CHAPTER 2:
"ETA two minutes." The voice from the intercom echoed around the ship as if it were completely vacant. Samara ended her meditation, her eyes returning from a glowing neon blue to their normal appearance. She was ready to end this hunt, no matter the effort required.
Less than a minute later that Samara had felt the familiar bump of the docking clamps grasping a hold of the ship. The Meridia had arrived at Analego, for better or for worse. A quick weapons check and inventory scan and Samara was good to go. Samara shouldered her M-15 Vindicator Battle Rifle (VBR), the familiar weight put her into a state of readiness. Hunts like these made her reminisce about the old days when she had found work as a mercenary. Of course, this hunt was like nothing she could relate to. Not once had a search and destroy mission that Samara had undertaken been failed multiple times nor taken this egregiously long.
"Welcome to Analego," said an asari sitting behind a desk, just as Samara stepped off the ship. Samara said nothing, just politely smiled and nodded. She couldn't draw attention to herself, she had to remain somewhat incognito. Otherwise, Morinth would catch on faster than a 20- kilo ferrous slug being fired from a dreadnought's Thanix cannon. Samara kept walking, past a group of Blood-Pack mercenaries, past a couple of shifty "merchants," all the way to the opposite end of the station. There she saw, to her curiosity, an incredibly large group of people, seemingly half organized into lines. There were three nightclubs in this part of the station, Aurora, Hydra and Valhalla. What appeared to be the longest line was for the "GRAND OPENING" of the new nightclub Valhalla. Morinth did not like to be in crowds, she observed them. Samara knew this, but Morinth would be inside one of these clubs, if she were here at all.
Samara made her way to the front of the line for Valhalla, only to be stopped by a krogan bouncer. Krogans were a force to be reckoned with. On average, an adult, fully armored krogan stands at about 7 feet tall, around 1100 lbs and had the appearance of a two legged reptile. She couldn't make a scene with this krogan. She needed to be stealthy about her approach because the minute Morinth even glimpsed Samara, she knew she'd go into hiding, and this was Samara's last lead.
"Where do you think you're going?" growled the bouncer.
"Inside I would hope," Samara answered. "Is there a problem?"
"You thought wrong. If you didn't notice, there is a line. You asari all think you're above everyone else," said the krogan in a low, disapproving voice.
"My apologies" said Samara. Normally, she would've been upfront with her intentions, due to the fact she was rarely ever potentially near Morinth. But this mission was different. There was no room for heated battles or any attention being drawn to herself. Samara surveyed the area around the club, glancing from wall to wall. She spotted a staircase that led down to a lower level. Hopefully this was a back entrance of some sort. Samara made her way through the crowd, almost snake like, barely brushing against anyone in the densely packed station. As she walked down the stairs, she noticed a doorway on her left. Upon closer investigation, however, she discovered the door was locked. Samara looked around. No one was within earshot from what she could see. She stepped back, away from the door and began to focus her energy. Her whole body began to glow a light blue, as if she were being consumed by a gaseous neon vapor. With one quick movement with her right arm through the air across the door, it flew off its track and landed at the opposite end of the hallway with a tremendous crash. However, to her advantage, the pathway the door had been blocking seemed to go right under the stage in the club. Every pulse of the bass reverberated off the walls of the hallway, making Samara nearly deaf.
Samara came into a room filled with an array of alcoholic drinks. She saw from above a sort of fluorescent pink light was shining through a crack in the ceiling. Attached near the light was a step ladder. Samara climbed up and pushed on the crack, which in turn gave way to reveal a bartending area in the club. Luckily for her, no bartender was around to notice that she had just come through their storage room. Samara straightened up and surveyed her surroundings. Neon lights filled the ceiling, with the occasional pyrotechnic effect blasting flames across the sky. Asari dancers were performing 20 feet below this spectacle, in scantily clad spandex attire. The word VALHALLA was spelled out on the base of the stage in giant pink neon lettering. Life was crowded in every corner of the club, whether it was dancing, talking or drinking. Samara saw no immediate sign of Morinth, which was good for the moment. She stepped out, walked past a group of turians, most appearing drunk, into one of the more shadowy corners of the club. It was here she could focus enough to listen in on people's conversations and observe the area.
"Get your hands off me creep!" screamed a voice. Samara looked around to see an asari, having a drunken turian mercenary forcing himself upon her. But Samara had to ignore her. She couldn't help her, she mustn't.
"I have to stay hidden," Samara thought.
No one seemed to notice the girl struggling, but then again, it may have looked as if they were dancing. Samara's senses were ten fold better than that of an average person's, aside from the drell and krogan species. The mercenary pulled his side arm out and smoothly put it against the asari's abdomen. Not in plain sight of anyone, but Samara knew the situation. She had no choice now. There was an innocent life in danger, and the code demanded action. Samara reached the mercenary in four strides, grabbed his arm with the pistol in it and wrenched it away from the girl. With a flash of blue light and snap like a gunshot, the mercenary dropped the firearm in a roar of pain. Samara had crushed his armored forearm. Any place where her hand or fingers had been, the armor had broken.
"You... you bitch!" yelled the mercenary. "I'll kill you!"
He made a movement for the rifle on his back, but Samara knew he didn't even have a hope of injuring her.
"Find peace in the embrace of the goddess," Samara said softly as she brought her fist back and in a burst of blue light, it connected with the turian's face. A sickening crunch filled the air as the turian fell to the ground. Samara knew he was dead before he even hit. Her biotics had crushed the plates on his face, blue blood was pouring from the impact area. People screamed as they looked upon the scene of brutality. The music stopped abruptly. Dancing, drinking, laughing, talking, almost everything ended with haste, just to watch. Samara glanced quickly around at her surroundings. Morinth was nowhere to be seen, which meant she was not here. Morinth was drawn to the idea of violence. Samara recovered and brought herself to look at the girl whom had been assaulted. She had a look of morbid shock on her face, which didn't surprise Samara.
"Are you alright Miss?" asked Samara in a gentle tone.
"Y-y-yes..." stuttered the girl, half frightened of Samara.
"A justicar!" Samara heard voices in the crowd murmur. Her anonymous aura had been shattered to pieces after that spectacle. Samara had no need to justify her actions, and the security for the club had no intention in making her do so. Any type of law enforcement knew attempting to arrest a justicar was suicide. Anyone trying to interfere with her work, Samara would have to kill. The code had no shades of gray within it, only black and white.
Samara proceeded towards the exit. As she did so, the silent crowd made a clearing for her. She reached the exit and stepped out of the club.
"Justicar, over here," whispered a woman's voice.
Samara turned to see a hooded figure, a quarian who was beckoning her. Curiously, Samara followed the quarian into a near side hallway. Quarians are a race that are not generally common in the galaxy, as they prefer to stay in the Flotilla (a group of ships that serves as the race's home world). It had been known that the quarians lost control of their servants, a race of VI machines that evolved into AIs, called Geth. They wear full body environmental suits due to their weakened immune system of living on sterilized ships. But quarians were known to venture beyond the Flotilla on a 'pilgrimage', a rite of passage among their people.
"You're hear on business I presume?" asked the quarian. "No other reason you would be here on Analego."
"Yes, I am. Do you seek something from me, miss?" asked Samara.
"No, but you may want something from me," answered the quarian. "Recognize her?"
The quarian held up a digital data pad with a photo on it. The picture showed an asari dressed in a black Spec-Ops type suit. It was grainy, most likely from a security cam here on Analego. Samara stared at the picture, almost in disbelief. The picture, was of Morinth.