Mass Effect: Argent
Chapter 2: The Poorer Citadel
I caught up with a few STG colleagues covertly stationed on Elysium - to hand over Finnegan. Didn't bother with the 'paperwork' back then. Or what amounted to guard duty.
I felt much too proud of myself; I'd let them sort him out.
My omni-tool buzzed with a message from STG command, the seals of authentication proving its validity.
A new case. Someone had gone missing, and likely been murdered, on the Citadel. Some diplomat called Ellrin Marlis.
They were not of the highest importance - only some lackey, comparatively. A liaison for the Salarian Union.
What was peculiar, however, (and why the case must have been referred to me) was why would a diplomat, or anyone of some repute, be in this part of the Citadel?
The Tezak district.
The Tezak district has never been heard of by most people. I had only heard of it by chance about a year ago thanks to a gossiping STG officer on an information binge. Even then, it was considered rumour.
It is, according to the tiny amount of rumour and conjecture concerning it, a small section of the wards within the deepest bowls of the Citadel – where drug gangs and criminal underground coteries somehow, supposedly, rule supreme. It was also shrouded in myth.
The Citadel Council have actively been covering-up the existence of Tezak since its conception. It is a place almost completely alien to the rest of the Citadel. Very out-of-place.
It is, of course, unfathomably and sadly found by the most destitute of people needing some sort of shelter.
For all the wrong that can be said of them, Citadel authorities do surprisingly well in finding basic living accommodations for nearly everyone – refugees, the homeless, vagabonds – on the Citadel. Ever seen someone sleeping in the streets on The Citadel?
No.
Except for the few 'duct rats'.
This is where The Citadel becomes an anomaly of sorts. The reduction of 'overt' visible poverty on the Citadel is close to one of the most efficient logistical exercises ever undertaken by the the galactic authorities.
Almost as efficient as the rapid introduction of thermal clips for all new (or modified) weapons across the galaxy. Or the universal phasing-out of omni-gel. Both rather, and inexplicably, quick.
Locations almost everywhere around the galaxy where the impoverished are present, are often visibly, aesthetically, downtrodden.
Dirty, broken, or under-maintained.
Poverty on the Citadel is different because it is always relatively clean, whatever the net worth of the people living in an area, due to the tireless work of the keepers.
There is certainly a different atmosphere to the less prosperous areas of the wards. Maybe a little less lighting. Fewer businesses. Less diverse architecture. But they always have a sterile and tidy air to them. Murders and messy crimes, if not cleaned up by C-Sec, will always mysteriously be cleaned away.
The poorest parts seem very eerie due to the unique context of this galactic superstructure. Yet even the 20-something floors of Zakera, although considered 'poor', where still lit with a multitude of lights and resident to dozens of businesses.
It was still thought to be underprivileged – and still is – but the poverty of Zakera seemed like nothing.
Tezak was quite different.
Tezak is possibly one of the poorest areas on The Citadel. A possible theory for why the Council have covered it up for years. Embarrassment maybe? Bribes from whatever crimelords are at play?
No-one knew for sure. I would certainly find something while investigating the place.
From the very little number of formal accounts that exist (which amounts to one neglected report by an asari C-Sec captain); the place is described as dim, but not brown and grimy. The walls are texture-less, a dull unblemished grey being the only present hue. The only businesses, apart from the criminal rings and smaller number of disparate gangs, were a number of food dispensaries. Almost completely absent of advertisements.
Otherwise, it was home to a few dozen residential units. Small. Like ship containers. Hidden behind false walls with seemingly no features to distinguish which is which, and where anything is. The place was cramped, with only one or two open squares. It was likely witness to murders and assaults every other day – but they seemed to be forgotten. Hyperreal desensitisation.
The population somehow stayed level nonetheless (if it ever could be counted); the occasional ruffian or desperate refugee unfortunate enough to stumble across Tezak would hardly ever leave – and would not talk of their experiences if they did.
Officially, nobody knows why.
The Council cover-up, by those very few in the know, was said to merit counter-productive results. It only allowed freer reins for the criminal overlords to rule with an iron fist in their forgotten and isolated hollow.
I closed the message from STG command, and ventured to my private shuttle.
An STG V-7 Spacer-Jet. Nothing special. I was a specialist detective, not an all-in soldier. It got me to where I was needed. I was not hunting space pirates and mercs. I was investigating crimes. Any combat was by hand, not by turret.
It had a few non-lethal defensive capabilities, but I never remember having to use them. It was speedy enough to get away from most altercations anyway.
It took me a little while to get to Illyria's spaceport, but after getting to the ship, the pre-flight checks were quick, and I was soon blasting off – in orbit, meeting the relay, shooting towards the Serpent Nebula, and arriving at The Citadel.
When docked, I had to plan my next step. Despite the information on hand from the records and a few extranet searches, the location of the Tezak district was formally unknown. How was I going to get in and find out what to Marlis? How in ever did he end up in Tezak?
How was I going to even find an unknown location in a place 44.7km in length and 12.8km in diameter? Amongst 13.2 million people?
I thought a good first stop would be a blunt and forward attack. Ask those who have been covering-up the existence of the place for over 20 years.
So I headed for the Presidium.