He hadn't meant to speak aloud. The sound of his voice surprised him, his terror overwhelming his usual instincts. It was not a krogan he was seeing, and all he could think of was that this was horrific Reaper creature, some indoctrinated thing, and that meant Nelek must be indoctrinated, and now all Rance's plans for life were about to be swallowed by the great bogeyman of the stars…
The alien towered over the rest of them, a hulk of flesh and carapace. It had a massive, bony face of livid red color, and multiple eyes tucked beneath protrusions of bone. The body was pure muscle. It wore green armor that seemed to be ill-fitting, given its tremendous girth. The alien looked like it could head-butt a Mako… and come out the victor.
Rance even wondered, briefly, that this was some biotic-inspired nightmare. But then he caught the smell of the monster, a cloying, gamey smell. A real smell that anchored him to this awful reality.
"This is your first officer," Nelek said.
Rance could barely breathe. He retreated a step, then two, until he felt the muzzle of a rifle against his back. He turned and there was the old batarian.
Nelek was watching him, a faint trace of amusement in his smile. "His name is Grell. First Officer Grell of the Wyvern which, in a moment, will become your ship. Grell is utterly loyal to the cause, and so he'll be loyal to you."
Rance tried to reassemble his composure. "What… what is…"
"He's a Yahg."
Rance had never head of a Yahg. Slowly, his terror of indoctrination began to fade and was gradually replaced by other theories. Nelek must have contracted with some genetics lab, perhaps with the corporations on frozen Noveria, or with some forgotten ex-Cerberus geneticists whose flight from the Citadel's merciless purge had caused them to seek employment with Terminus.
What had Nelek done? Where had he found this behemoth to fill the power vacuum after the krogan abandoned the Blood Pack?
"Any other doubts about taking Plabo station?" Nelek sounded impatient now.
Rance shook his head.
"Good." The great man handing him a golden datadisk. "Now get down to the docks and earn your stripes, lieutenant. The Wyvern is our answer to the Normandy-class vessels. Her stealth system is without peer. Her weapons are refined Batarian design with Eclipse engineering. Flight lieutenant Quadrini can fill you in on its capabilities. Gunnery Chief Traj will introduce you to the crew."
"Yes sir."
Nelek's ice-blue eyes glinted. "Take that base for me."
And with that, the great man turned away and vanished into the garden. Rance loosened his collar and glanced to the pike.
Aria T'Loak seemed to watch him in silent, murderous rage.
Ploba was located in the Antaeus system of the Hades Gamma cluster. It was a gas giant, the color of burnt caramel, and its gravity seized the Wyvern at a distance Rance didn't think possible soon after they snapped out of the Mass Relay.
Gunnery Chief Traj Potente stood beside Rance on the bridge of the Wyvern when the planet came into view. She appeared to be only a few years older than him, perhaps thirty. She wore Terminus-weave armor that was a darker, richer shade of green than their silent Yahg compatriot, and her hair was so blonde it was nearly white. This fact, coupled with the sharp angles of her face and the pale eyes, made her seem an ice sculpture come to life.
As for the ship itself, it was sleek, small, and silent. The bridge was small, unlike a Normandy-class vessel, and with the command crew around him, Rance felt it was almost claustrophobic. The small size would reduce the visual signature of the craft, as would the star-dappled hull. This was not a ship one grew comfortable with, Rance thought, and he grinned at the rumors that Alliance captains often grew hopelessly attached to their ships. The Wyvern was a tool. It was a dagger in the shadows. It was a shadow transport for a shadow team. It was not a personality to grow affection for.
"We're picking up signals from the Anansi-Ishtar shipping lane," Traj said.
Flight lieutenant Quadrini was a Batarian, nestled into his chair like a spider. "What could we possibly want with a science station around a boring gas giant?" he asked.
Rance looked over the planet's telemetry. "The turians don't assign garrisons to boring stations. Something's there."
The Yahg spoke for the first time during the voyage, and its voice was so deep it vibrated the air like a power surge. "Ploba was the location of an orbital capsule containing one of Matriarch Dilinaga's writings, recovered eighty years ago."
Traj was closest to the first officer. "Nelek would never have sent us here for an Asari Matriarch's notebook scribbles. Besides, anything worth recovering was done decades ago."
The Yahg said nothing to this. Its ugliness, and strangeness, was oddly entrancing.
"First Officer Grell," Rance said at last. "Are you experienced in combat?"
The creature turned. "Very experienced."
"Good. You will lead the landing party."
The creature made no reaction, but rather just studied him with its eye-cluster. When it spoke again, it's voice was obscenely humble, almost mocking. "Yes, Captain Hoyt. I am here to serve you."
Rance addressed his entire crew. "The Blood Pack has placed a mole in the science station. She is expecting us in just a few minutes. She will override the docking bay, apparently under the pretense that a probe needs to be brought inside. We will slip in right then and there. The station's VI will report us the inside we exit the ship, so speed and efficiency are the orders of the day."
Traj drew her assault rifle and loaded a magazine of Tungsten rounds. Already, Ploba Station was visible in the backsplash of Antaeus' brutal crimson glow, glinting in orbit around the gas giant like a derelict from ancient times. Quadrini piloted the Wyvern's approach like a black and deadly arrow.
Rance was excited. The thought of impending battle drew adrenaline into his blood until he could taste its metallic flavor in the back of his throat. Past his batarian pilot's shoulder, Ploba Station was growing larger and more distinct.
As they came within sight of the docking bay doors, they slid open, as if the station was already expecting them.
"Leave none alive," Rance reminded his crew.
The Yahg grunted, a crooked grin on its terrible face.
The Wyvern coasted into the station. Its airlock hissed open just as a patrolling Turian rounded the corner, saw the ship, and opened fire as they landing party leapt off the ship straight into the barrage of bullets.
Rance had been in street-fights and bar heists. Never a battle. Not like this.
His biotic barrier sprang from him and caught the turian's bullets in an electric blue haze. Traj killed the attacker with a single shotgun blast to the head. The station alarm gonged, but by then the landing party was splitting into pairs, carving up the facility in a blur of gunfire, singularities, and fire.
Rance and Traj went together, taking a maintenance corridor and killing power in the station. In the darkness, they stitched shots into guards who had tried escaping into the corridor. The Yahg, it seemed, was on the war-path. People screamed throughout the station.
"They're trying to lockdown the central lab," Traj said, reading the station's security protocols off her omnitool.
"Let's get there first," he hissed, and dashed forward, throwing barriers across the doorways he passed.
As it turned out, the Yahg had already reached the central lab. Researchers lay slumped over their desks or crumpled up under them. As Rance entered the room, the Yahg tossed something towards him. It looked like a spacesuit or mannequin… until it hit the floor, and Rance heard the sickening crack of a leg bone as it landed.
A researcher! The Yahg had left a researcher alive!
The victim cried out and tucked into a protective ball. Traj raised her assault rifle to finish the researcher off.
"Hold!" Rance said. "Wait until Quadrini has decrypted the files."
Traj gave an unpleasant grimace. "Why?"
Rance glared. "Because I gave you an order. Because if the decrypter doesn't work, we'll need assistance from some of the locals."
"The decrypter is a VI-tested omnipick-"
"I'm taking no chances." He turned to the Yahg. "Grell, how many survivors?"
Three others. A human and two turians."
"Space them along with the bodies."
The Yahg bowed slightly and went to the adjacent room. Three gunshots rang out.
Rance nudged the woman at his feet. "Let me see your face," he said.
The woman stirred but didn't obey. She wore a magenta body suit that, along with her blue skin, reminded him of the colors of Omega Station.
"There wasn't supposed to be an Asari here," he said gently. "Identify yourself."
The woman rolled onto her back and fixed him with large, sensitive eyes.
Rance caught his breath. Then he smiled. "Hello, Dr. Liara T'Soni."