Chapter One: Setup

Unsealing the clamps on my helmet, I took a deep breath of the unfiltered air inside my new home. I immediately regretted it as the acrid scent of the filth of half a dozen species flooded my nostrils, sending me into a coughing fit that didn't subside for the better part of thirty seconds. I'd have to see about getting filtration systems and environmental seals added as soon as I could, but that would probably be a long time.

The room in front of me extended probably about forty feet back, rather massive for a place on Omega. The walls, initially, were concrete over a foot thick, but that shifted to the natural stone of the upper-districts of the station. It was shored up with metal braces and plating, showing the Turian origin of the structure which prevented tunneling from behind. It was completely empty and barren, save for the four crates stacked in the back right next to a staircase tucked against the wall. The crates were filled with inventory that people would kill for, but that was why a cabal from the Cresting Wave would be coming in to provide security for the next three Omega days.

The crew of the freighter that had shuttled me and the goods I needed to start up the shop here had just left. One of the crates contained a basic industrial-grade fabricator that would be able to create parts, albeit slowly, and the tools I'd need to assemble the guns I'd be selling. A second contained prefab barriers and plastic panes I could weld together with my omnitool to separate the inventory area from the storefront. The last two were my actual stock, packed full of base-model pistols and shotguns. Nothing fancy, but it was enough to start, especially since they were all new, something very uncommon in the Terminus. It was also expensive enough that I'd be in debt to my supplier for a long time after the store started up.

But that wasn't a big worry. Right now I just had to focus on getting established and finding some more long-term security, preferably that wouldn't completely bankrupt me.

I kept the helmet off, tucked rather unceremoniously under my arm, as I limped over to the stairs. The second floor would be open like this one, but I intended to turn it into a workshop. The upper level was where I'd be staying, with the water and air hookups to keep it at least livable. If I could acclimate to the smell, that is.

I sat the helmet down on one of the crates, needing a free hand to hold onto the railing and get up the stairs. Even after six months in therapy and rehab on Horizon, my leg still wouldn't take much weight. It probably never would again, with how the bones had essentially been just dust and fragments by the time I'd gotten there. I could have had it amputated, but there was no way I could afford a cybernetic replacement. Not to mention that whatever that thing in the ruins had done to my head left me with a severe aversion to any kind of cybernetics.

I hadn't told anyone about the memory shard or whatever it was. I'd have been put in a mental asylum. People knew that Prothean beacons could mess with your head, browsing the extranet had told me that, but so far only Asari were known to be able to survive a direct interface, and there was no mention of anything like what I'd touched. Definitely nothing about them re-arranging your own mind.

That's what it felt like had happened. My mind wasn't me anymore. Sometimes, I was almost normal. Others, my eyes had trouble focusing. I couldn't work my fingers right, or even speak anything other than that strange language without concentration. Sometimes there was a big leadup to my 'episodes' as I called them, others it was like someone flipped a switch and it was instant. Seeing certain things would bring up pictures in my head, sometimes even whole memories. Most of them were dark. Traumatic even. But the one connecting factor was the presence of Protheans, and their jumbled nature.

I had headaches almost once a week, ones bad enough that I couldn't move or work as I did it. I was sure that some of the people I'd met on Horizon had noticed the inconsistencies with me. Most hadn't appreciated how I carried myself like a Turian or a Batarian more than a human. But, I hadn't been comfortable around so many of my own race. So, the feeling had been mutual and I hadn't interacted much.

My cane, the walking implement requisite with my leg unable to take my weight, clicked against the stairs as I walked, the ornate metal staff nothing like what I had been given as soon as I could get out of a bed on Horizon. During my free time there, I'd modified and engraved the basic metal rod into a an almost pillar shape, the metal painted a tan color and etched with sayings from the Pillars of Strength, each hand-carved in highborn runes from memory.

The second floor was empty, going back further into the rock than the one below, and with a balcony out front that overlooked the street in front of my shop. The third floor had the same floor space as this one, with no windows for safety reasons, I didn't know the exact layout, though, so instead of going out to the balcony I just turned to go right up the next flight of stairs, reaching the top to come out into a partially furnished space.

The stairs came up into a short hallway, the original walls still intact. I passed four doors, three of which turned out to be bedrooms and the other a bathroom. In total they covered about half of the space on this floor, the other half mostly open. Right after the bedrooms was a sitting area with a few curiously stained couches and chairs, and a couple of fold-out tables. The walls were clear, and it could be easily set up with terminals and entertainment centers given the proper materials.

Further back was a kitchen and dining area, dingy cabinets clustering around dingier appliances. I knew nothing would be stocked yet, but it was a perfectly livable place. Certainly much more than the house I'd expected to build on Falivas after I turned eighteen.

Looking at my omnitool, the slim bracelet on my wrist and its immaterial pop-up screen only just starting to become familiar to me, there was still an hour left before the Cresting Wave arrived. Knowing it was a risk, I still decided to wait in moderate comfort and trust the locking program on the door for now. So, after a few moments spent limping along once I left my clothes in the bedroom, I dropped with a thud onto the cleaner of the two couches. Which promptly collapsed underneath me, one of the legs giving way and leaving the entire thing at a slant, my cane on the ground next to me and my head resting on the concrete after a single, painful bounce.

I started laughing. At first it was just a few chortles. Then it was a cackle. Then it was a full-bellied guffaw that sent tears streaming down my face and convulsions all along my body. It was just, ridiculous.

Up until I fell into that ruin, I'd expected to live and die on my home colony, had no real aspirations except to expand the armor foundry and repay our colony's patron. Now I was sitting in Omega in a fortified house that I was going to turn into a gun store to sell weapons and eventually armor to criminals and gangs. My parents, smugglers though they were, would be so disappointed.

I hadn't expected to end up here like this. Nobody could have. Especially with the memories of some long-dead alien stuck in my head and constantly fighting everything I already knew. It was just so unreal that the only way I could cope, now that I was alone, was to laugh. Or to cry I guess, but I was doing both so it was a moot point.

Maybe I really was insane. Something in my head had to have cracked after what I'd seen. But that didn't really matter. I was here, and I had promises to keep to my sponsor and supplier, and a real reason to want to stay alive for now. I'd never worked with a gun before I'd been on Horizon, not in anything more than just holding it and a few test shots. Yet here I was, ready and willing to stake my entire life on doing well here.

My sponsor sure as hell didn't know it, but that was because the memories in my head came from a Prothean gunsmith. I knew that I only consciously recalled a tiny fraction of everything the shard had done, but more was trickling back as time passed. But there were designs, and images of them in action, of everything from pistol-sized flamethrowers that made their own fuel from the air to functional directed energy weapons like the particle beams that had destroyed my family to shipboard weapons with yields dozens of times higher than modern guns. My head was a gold mine, if everything in it was real.

And that was why I didn't tell anyone. People would kill for what was in my mind. From Terminus warlords to the Council of Matriarchs, everyone with any kind of possible industrial base and military concern would do anything to use what I knew. And...I didn't want that. I had enough blood on my hands as it was. But, this was the only skill I really had, even though it was one I hadn't earned. So I'd have to live with it, and just sell weak or slightly-modified designs.

Or that was the plan anyway. I had no idea what would come in the future, so I was just trying to survive.

By the time the insane spectacle that was my laughing fit was over, and I'd calmed down to a presentable level where I could pretend to be old enough to run this entire thing, it was almost time for the cabal to arrive. So I wrenched myself, rather painfully back to my feet and left the couch tilted as it was. Not that I could really do the heavy lifting to fix it, anyway. A short trip to the bathroom saw me splash my face with the, surprisingly clean, water until I looked decent.

I was just getting down to the ground floor when someone knocked on the door. I cursed under my breath, my cane clacking louder as I hurried across the room to reach the door, arriving just as the third, exasperated-sounding knock rang out. The Asari I'd hired weren't one of the centuries-old teams that I knew operated on station, but rather a group of rather young maidens under the training of a veteran matron. At least, that's what the advert had stated, and they were one of the more reliable groups when it came to delivering.

The lock finally cycled and the door opened, revealing four Asari in sky-blue hardsuits. The paintjob seemed recent, and I couldn't help but notice how it covered up patched sections. The group seemed respectable, though, and matched up with the confirmation photo sent when I'd hired them. Not that I was good at telling Asari apart, anyway; the blue space women still freaked me out. Then again, I wasn't exactly used to being around anything with 'curves' in the sense that attracted most human males.

A glance at my omnitool, and a fresh rush of the horrific scent outside, reminded me that I wasn't wearing my helmet as I ushered them in. Still, I would hate to be an improper host. "I apologize for the delay," I spoke in lowborn Batarian. It, as Nalii had driven into my head as a child, was more proper to use in most situations. "My injury makes it difficult to move quickly."

The lead woman, with the most expensive looking gear, nodded politely, looking me up and down. She replied in the same tongue, "It is alright. I've had a knee injury myself, and I know the inconvenience."

The door closed and locked behind me as she turned to her subordinates and ordered two of them up to the second floor, to stand guard on the balcony. "I apologize that the place is so empty. I haven't had the chance to unpack any of the merchandise or furniture yet."

She nodded again. "I understand. With the payment, and the discount you have offered us, myself and my sisters will gladly aid in the labor of setting up your establishment."

I smiled. At last some actual good news. "Excellent. Would you please remove the lids from the crates in the back? One should have the dividers to set up the sales counter inside."

We worked fairly silently at first, but after the second time the younger maiden flared her biotics to stop the metal plating from crushing my fingers we started up some small talk. The matron didn't say anything except in response to my own words or inquiries as to how I wanted a certain display or shelf set up.

The maiden I was talking to was named Irina. She had only been running with the Wave for a few months, apparently. Her Batarian was rather broken, but with the help of a translator window on my omnitool we managed to hold a fairly decent conversation. It was the first time I'd actually talked openly to someone since Lilush had stormed out of my life. We didn't talk about what brought us to Omega, or why we had resorted to our occupations. We spoke instead about how gorgeous the stars were when you weren't on a planet, and how many surprises the universe had if we just went out to look.

Even this limited physical labor was strenuous to me, though, and I was sweating as we walked up to the third floor living area.

"I'd offer you water or drinks but," I trailed off and gestured around at the state of the place. "I've only just arrived, so I don't have any of the amenities here yet."

"You've purchased our services exclusively for the next few days, so if you wish me and Irina will be able to escort you to purchase such items." She looked at my leg again. In the armor it didn't seem any different, but whenever I moved it was obvious even if you didn't see my cane. "It wouldn't be a good idea to walk around in public unguarded with that limp. Fumi's nowhere near as bad as the Lowers, but you'll still probably end up floating in the tides if you go out alone."

My initial reply was delayed by a wince, my head going from normal to throbbing in a few seconds as my fingers curled into claws and started twitching. Both aliens noticed, one with a look of what I assumed was concern and the other with her face hidden behind a silvered visor. "Would you get them for me?" My voice was strained, my previously well-accented Batarian speech cracking.

After taking a second to shove down the episode and make sure I wouldn't slip into Prothean I managed to explain, "I get migraines. They make it hard to think and move; I can't focus. The best I can do is wait them out and hope the meds I have work."

It took a few seconds to scrabble for the pill bottle inset into the top of my cane. I downed two of the tablets inside, knowing they wouldn't take effect for half an hour at the soonest. My eyesight was already blurring, Irina's face flickering in and out of focus. "Just, get stuff with your best judgment please? I'll eat practically anything if you get me some food, and furniture doesn't matter as long as it's not bloodstained or anything."

The matron was probably looking at me like I was an idiot, but it didn't matter. "I'll reimburse you for whatever it costs, plus a bonus of five hundred credits to each of you for getting it."

After that, and making sure they were ok with doing it, I limped my way into the bedroom right across from the bathroom, which happened to be the largest one, and collapsed facefirst onto the bed there.

I woke up coated in sweat and extremely sore. The sweat was from the nightmares that had been plaguing me for months, some of how my friends and family had died, and others snippets from whatever had killed the Protheans. I never even remembered which it was anymore, and I barely slept except to escape the migraines these days.

A look at my omnitool, the brightness making me squint, showed that almost twelve hours had passed. A full shift and a half of Omega time, which consisted of four eight hour shifts. I stumbled from my bedroom to the bathroom, a glimpse of blue barely visible out of the corner of my eye showing that at least one of the Asari was off-duty and relaxing. There was new furniture there too, but my eyesight was still too fuzzy to make out what.

A quick shower, in unfortunately lukewarm water, left me feeling slightly better before I put on my grimy, sweat-soaked armor undersuit again. Then I shimmied back into the armor pieces, a much more difficult prospect by myself, and checked the seals. I still didn't have my helmet, but I'd attach it before I went outside.

I was feeling better by the time the bathroom door slid open, but I still wasn't too great. I was still sore, everywhere, and I made a mental oath to never fall asleep in my armor again. Instead of going straight downstairs, I clicked my way across the floor to fall into the new couch that had replaced the broken one. It was tan, and made of some kind of foam that shifted to accommodate me. A cheap screen was hanging on the wall across from it, playing some kind of Asari sitcom, and the two maidens I hadn't spoken to were sitting in the kitchen playing some kind of card game.

I made brief small talk with them, but as of now they didn't seem all that interested in talking. So, I walked over and checked the cabinets once I was awake enough. A bunch of cheap, pre-packaged meals that would be easy to make predominated, but some fresher ingredients and perishable beverages were stocked in the fridge.

I didn't recognize any of the food, but I grabbed some kind of vaguely familiar fruit, grimacing at how sweet it was, before starting back down to the second floor. I needed to eat something, though, but I didn't want to just sit around and make a full meal now. I'd been bad about that even before I left home.

The fabricator, and enough materials to make a few pistols but not really anything bigger, were set up in one of the corners, near the main power hookup for this floor. I knew the other two Asari would be out on the balcony keeping watch, so I decided to make a detour over to the machine. I'd read through the manual on the way to the station, so a quick series of diagnostic checks showed that it was working just fine. I made a few useless plastic gun parts from the tub of omnigel, toying around with the controls to get used to it and not waste any of the more valuable metals.

I only had one of my default pistols as a weapon now, which was rather underpowered, so I might as well at least start making one. The one I'd decided on wasn't true Prothean, or anything fancy, but after running conversions in my head while I was on Horizon I knew it was a fair bit better than anything except high-end, military grade special forces pistols. It was the only design I had the specifications for saved on my omnitool, since it was one that I could explain away as being an original design if anyone saw.

The barrel was a third longer than most standard pistols, with four accelerator rails instead of the standard two. The ammo block was in the grip, with the body holding two heatsinks. to allow extended firing. It wasn't pretty, and if someone managed to shoot one of the sinks the entire thing would blow up in your hand. That had been obvious in some of the memories that came up when I thought about it. But while we didn't have the right alloys to follow the design exactly, it would hold up well enough and was fairly cheap to make for the stopping power it had.

The armor model I wore didn't have aim assist, but that was a fairly high-grade feature that most people here on Omega wouldn't have. That meant I didn't have to use anything more than the base software that the microprocessor the fabricator would include had, though it meant I didn't have a way to have it swap between the heat sinks, rather than distributing between both at once.

Nearly an hour later all the parts were done, though the acrid scent of burning metal filled my nostrils after I went to work assembling them. A few pulses of weird anger went through me as I did that. It was almost like the memories in my head were indignant.

Wrong. Sacrilege. Perversion

I winced but pushed those thoughts down. They still didn't feel like mine, but I guessed it was the part of me the memories were in. Whenever something struck a chord with the memories, it would be as if a Prothean voice was speaking in my head. Like when I saw those husk things that I now knew were dead Protheans, or when my leg was crushed. It usually sounded angry.

What I'd been able to gather in my head made it very clear that the Protheans hadn't really been a nice or benevolent people, even before whatever destroyed them came around. They'd been arrogant and superior, subjugating other races like the Turians had to the Volus, and had tried to do to humans. They didn't like mixing their tech, which I assumed had triggered this one episode.

My fingers continuously got in the way as I worked, but, that had been expected. Protheans only had three, and the memories that I was using to put this together relied on that. Maybe I could see about getting Turian or Quarian gloves so I didn't end up pinching and smashing them like I did between the parts now.

After another hour and a half, most of which was spent taking it apart after I realized I hadn't connected the parts right, or the heatsinks were reversed, etcetera. Basically, just undoing simple mistakes from where the foreign muscle memory I was working off of failed to translate correctly into the material world. Eventually, though, even the alien part of my mind seemed satisfied. I slid it into the UV chamber on the fabricator that would bake the adhesive together into more permanent welds that could hold up to repeated use. That process would probably take about half an hour, so I had more time to kill.

I decided to spend it with the Irina and the matron, whose name I still didn't know, out on the balcony. They'd moved a couple of cheap, foldout chairs and a small table onto the balcony, the matron sitting at the table working on her omnitool while Irina rested her arms on the chest-high concrete wall that surrounded the balcony. She had a worn Asari assault rifle, some model I didn't know, held idly in her arms, her helmet actually on as she scanned the street for anyone looking unsavorily at my little shop. It showed that they were taking their job seriously, which meant a lot. A less-reliable mercenary unit might have killed me when I passed out and just taken my supplies for themselves, which honestly was the more likely outcome here on Omega. I was lucky.

"Ah, Mr. Selos," the Matron greeted me, a hint of amusement in her voice. I didn't have a last name to give, so she had to use my first. "I see the tides were gentle on you while you slept. You seem less...green than before your sojourn in the Deeps."

I didn't really understand what she was saying, but I nodded anyway, my lips quirking up in a thin smile. "Sleep really does wonders for the body and soul. You've gone beyond what I expected, especially from the stories of this station, and I thank you for that."

She nodded. "The Wave is not as base as many groups on this station, and my cabal at least prefers to be reputable. If you ever have need of our services, after the current contract lapses, we operate out of an enclave in Upper Fumi not too far from here. I'll ensure that you have my personal communication codes before we part ways, though I'm sure Irina will do the same."

The girl rolled her shoulders in what I'd come to realize was an Asari shrug, not taking her eyes off the street.

"I would appreciate such. Your group will be the first I call if something comes up, here. However, I am looking to hire someone independent as long term security and as a helper in the store. Would you happen to know the best place to look?"

"There's a bar in Doru where reputable new arrivals tend to congregate. I can take you there, if you would like."

I nodded. "That sounds promising. In half an hour my new project will be finished setting, and then we can leave."

She nodded and went back to her omnitool. I decided, rather than walking all the way back upstairs, I'd just wait here with them and try to acclimate to the smell. I brought the screen on my own omnitool up as I realized that I hadn't sent the setup confirmation to my sponsor before the migraine hit.

A short message, confirming that I had arrived safely and begun establishing myself, was away a few minutes later, bounced off the one signal repeater they had on Omega and across a few FTL comm relays back to Horizon. A second was sent over public channels, to a hospital on Xentha specializing in care for paralyzed Turians.

Dear Mellaris;

I hope this message finds you well. I've arrived at my destination safely, and the shop is coming together. We'll be open for business as soon as I can hire some help.

-Selos