Chapter 3
First Impressions
The shuttle emerged on the other side, directly in front of the relay, worst possible place if this had been a combat situation. Theramod thought to himself I should probably practice at piloting. Then he thought, Or maybe I could just get The Primacy to hire a pilot for me. Though then again, the Primacy probably doesn't even know any pilots to hire. The damn Hanar are so reclusive. After about 10 minutes he finally reached The Citadel and began to head towards The Presidium's docks. Theramod gazed at the station's colossal arms extended away from the shuttle as it dove towards the ring holding all the arms together. The lights on the wards which were housed in the arms made it look like the Citadel was in flames. After the awe of seeing The Citadel which stricken Theramod anytime he comes here wore off he began to let his mind drift to try to piece together what he saw on Tuchanka. From what he could see a bunch of Humans and Batarians from The Blue Suns were working with a bunch of The Bloodpack, but why the Hell were they wearing that black armor? Well, he decided that figuring out that bullshit would be up to the Primacy. He needed a drink.
"This is Citadel flight control, identify yourself, now." A female's stern voice sounded over the radio, she was probably Asari.
Theramod clicked on his own radio and said as authoritatively as he could, "This is Theramod Anelay, Errant for the Illuminated Primacy requesting permission to dock." After a tense 15 seconds Theramod got permission and headed towards an empty docking bay near the Presidium Commons. Okay, let's just get this thing on the ground before I crash the fucker. Theramod slowly and carefully maneuvered the shuttle into the bay. Thankfully it was empty aside from a few Citadel security guards on routine patrol. He wasn't very steady and nearly drifted into a wall. Finally he got control of it and smashed down crooked on the nearest landing pad. The patrol of C-Sec going by turned to look at what was causing the commotion, and after a split second they began to draw the M-15 Vindicators from their backs. Theramod without thinking quickly pressed the button to blackout the shuttles windshield. I really should've done that before flying in here… He wondered if they noticed that his passenger was a corpse. He looked to his left and cringed, it was pretty bad. The late pilot had one side of his head blown clean out, his grey-matter plastered all over the side window. The front of his armor was covered in vivid red blood, as was the pilot's side of the windshield. A voice rang out, "Exit the shuttle and put your hands behind your head."
"Shit." Theramod cursed to himself, got up and pressed the door release, and raised his hands to the back of his head, wincing a little bit; his head wound was still very tender. His mind briefly flashed back to Kaltiak, laying there on the tan stone of the fort. He would've remembered the good times they had together, but The Burning Red had already scorched those memories into a fading black mark in his mind. He stepped out of the shuttle.
"FREEZE!" one of the C-Sec officers shouted at him, "HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!" They all had their rifles trained on him.
"They're already there, assholes!" Theramod shouted back defiantly. "Can I talk to one of your officers? I just really want to get this misunderstanding over with so I can relax for a minute before having to deal with the fucking jellyfish."
"Get down on your knees!" the man in the font of the 3 C-Sec officers shouted.
"Come on man, chill out!" Theramod said, "It's just a piece of merc scum. That body is no worse than if I had a dead Varren in that seat. No need to arrest me, we'll get this sorted out…"
"Get. Down. On. The Ground." The lead officer said again, stressing every syllable, his voice laced with menace that he tried too hard to put there.
Theramod chuckled to himself and said with genuine mirth in his voice, "You guys should really back off before I get angry."
"If you do not comply we will have to open fire." The officer shouted back in reply.
"I'm Theramod Anelay, you sure you're doing the right procedure for an Errant of the Illuminated Primacy?" Theramod thought for a second, remembering how tight lipped the Hanar are about the Errants. They're the Primacy's personal scalpel of Drell assassins, the best of the best that the Hanar can get, able to infiltrate almost anything, reach out and touch any target. Of course they're top secret. Only the Council knows about them, and the head of C-Sec, which makes it kinda hard to get your special privileges from the lower ranks. "Though, of course you probably don't know what an Errant is." Theramod said, just a hint of the anger building up inside showing in his voice.
"Last warning, get down. Now!" the C-Sec officer shouted. He clicked the safety off on his rifle, as did the 2 others.
Theramod took his hands off the top of his head. "Alright, if you morons want to play this fucking game, I can play this fucking game!" Theramod yelled, his coarse voice rang out in the empty shuttle bay, the rage in it making an almost solid wall of sound that stunned the officers. They hesitated for a second, and then opened fire. The bullets shattered on impact with the swirling blood-red torrent of biotics that surrounded Theramod shielding him. Theramod then flung a throw field at the officers, it made contact with the abdomen of the big-mouthed officer who was shouting the orders about 5 seconds ago. The crimson torrent of force collapsed the officers ribcage and tossed him like a ragdoll back into the far wall of the shuttle bay, and he crumpled to the ground. The other 2 officers were tossed to the ground by the 1600 Newtons of force the field gave off, bouncing helplessly away.
"You guys done being assholes!?" Theramod yelled at the broken bodies who were once proud officers. They're groans of pain proved they were at least still breathing. "Fuck…" Theramod said to himself, exasperated, as he walked outside the shuttle bay. He casually strolled to the nearest C-Sec station.
Theramod walked into the C-Sec Outpost in the Presidium Commons. The secretary, a human female with shoulder length blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, didn't look up from her screen. Theramod could see through the display of the cheap holographic display of the computer. The human was playing solitaire.
Theramod strolled up to the desk, half slammed his hands on the desk to get the woman's attention as he leaned on the desk and asked very casually, "Could I get in contact with a lieutenant or something, I just had a small quarrel over a dead passenger I had in my shuttle in one of the shuttle bays, and I severely mauled 3 officers. They tried to arrest me and they really, really shouldn't have."
The secretary finally looked up with a shocked expression on her face and stuttered, "E...excuse me?"
Theramod just groaned and said "You heard me, so could you put me in contact with a high ranking officer so we can go to the Hanar embassy and get this all worked out? It was all a big misunderstanding." The secretary, who apparently was actually an officer, stood up drawing the M-3 Predator from her holster. Before she could level it at him he knocked it out of her hand with a small ball of biotic force. "Okay, how come to you C-Sec officers 'I'm a special agent, let me speak to an officer.' Means 'I'm a dangerous psychopath; shoot me or else I kill you all!'?" Just escort me to the Hanar embassies and we can call Executioner Pallin, so I don't have to hurt anymore of you fucking idiots." The officer looked at Theramod her eyes wild with fear. Her only response was a nod in compliance, and without even looking at her gun, she quickly strolled out of the outpost, Theramod following her. They walked in utter silence until they reached the Hanar embassy.
As they entered, they saw the single Hanar Diplomat, its tentacle skirting across the keyboard of the computer as its three fingers on that hand typed rapidly. The computer and its stand were the only furniture in the entire room.
The officer that "escorted" Theramod to the embassy began to speak, but Theramod held up a hand to silence her, then in his best command voice said "I got this. Just go back to your outpost." The officer almost ran out of the room.
The Hanar in its soft, almost ghostly voice asked "Theramod, what was that about? Are you in trouble with the Citadel Security again?"
Theramod said, "Yeah, I am Delcantus. I had to hijack a shuttle to get off of Tuchanka. I had the dead pilot sitting in the front seat. A couple of C-Sec officers saw it and tried to arrest me. I tossed them around with my biotics Could you send a message to Pallin and get that cleared up for me…and you should probably make sure they're sending some medics down to the shuttle bay too."
Delcantus, the Hanar diplomat, sighed, and scolded Theramod lightly, "Why can you not control your temper Theramod?"
Theramod angrily said "Well, I just watched my brother get shot yesterday. That would normally piss someone off."
Delcantus was completely silent for a moment, and then began typing. After about 30 seconds, he stopped and spoke again, "This one is so sorry to hear that. This one has just sent a message to Executioner Pallin, who should clear any charges from your name. But before we discuss anything else it would like a report about your mission to Tuchanka."
Theramod, deciding that starting from the beginning would take up precious time he could use to get a drink and wind down, began from when he and Kaltiak left camp, "We set out from Clan Urdnot's camp, and about a half an hour later we were jumped by 6 Krogan and captured. They were wearing Bloodpack style armor, but it was painted black. We were taken, in cages to a fort about 3 hours away, definitely not the one that the activity was originally reported in. It was abandoned. We were ordered out of the boxes, where Kaltiak engaged in battle with the Krogan. He killed one, but was shot by an older Krogan that had Geth manufactured Battlemaster armor. I dispatched the remaining Krogan, and fled and hid out in a crashed Tomkah and slept. The next day I went to the same fort I was taken to the day before to recover the body, but by this time mercs had set up in the fort. They were a mix of Krogan, Vorcha, Batarian, and Human. The Krogan and Vorcha wore Bloodpack style armor, while the Batarians and Humans wore Blue Suns style armor. The armor was all painted black though. I assaulted the base and stole a shuttle, now I'm here. Any questions?"
Delcantus was silent for a few more seconds, and then spoke up, "This is most troubling. The Illuminated Primacy had intercepted other reports about mercenary groups matching the description of what you saw, Blood Pack and Blue Suns seemingly working together under a black flag" Delcantus opened up some documents on his computer, and then spoke again. "This one has another mission for you. You will be meeting with a contact that this one has that is employed in a mining facility on the Planet Eingana in the Omega System. A few days ago he reported that the mine owners were in contact with a merc group wearing black armor."
Rage flashed through Theramod's eyes. "Do you really expect me to pilot myself to a planet in the Terminus Systems, and investigate more merc activity by myself right after the last mission!?" Theramod almost yelled and Delcantus.
Delcantus responding patiently, "Of course not, this one is going to assemble a team of two or three specialists for you and acquire a corvette class ship for your use. The computer on the ship will have the coordinates for the planet, along with the mission details. This one should have everything arranged tomorrow. The ship and supplies will be waiting for you in Docking Bay 13, but before you leave return here."
Theramod scoffed and said under his breath "Whatever…" and walked out of the embassy. He took a cab to the Zakera Ward. He walked to the Dark Star Lounge and walked inside. He was greeted by flashing lights and horrible music. Goddamnit, why can't they just have regular bars on this hunk of metal? He strolled over to the bar set up in the middle and sat down on a stool at the end of the bar. The bartender, a Turian, walked over.
"What'll you have?" The Turian asked briskly.
Theramod thought about the past 48 hours, and decided he'd get a jump start on getting smashed, "I'll take a shot of Ryncol."
The Turian grinned. "Hope you like the feeling of drinking glass." He pulled out a glass tube of green liquid and poured it into a shot glass until it was almost overflowing. Theramod raised the glass and tossed it back in one swig. He slammed the shot glass on the table and braced himself as the alcohol concentration made the world around him swirl like a cyclone. He felt the burn all the way to his stomach. His eyes watered a bit, but he blinked it away almost immediately.
The Turian's mouth opened a little in shock, he then grinned extended his hand to Theramod. Theramod grinned back, took his hand and shook it. "I've never seen anybody but a Krogan take a shot of Ryncol so well. Anything else you want, or are you good?"
Theramod grinned, "That was only the appetizer my good man! Bring me a pitcher of Batarian ale! I've got a lot to forget," Theramod marked with bittersweet mirth. The Turian brought his order, and then walked off to serve the other patrons, leaving Theramod alone with his alcohol. He reached over the counter and grabbed a second glass, filled both glasses, and slid one over in front of the empty seat beside him, seeing if anyone would see it as an invitation. He didn't really want to drink alone.
It was now, with nothing to distract his mind, that the first pangs of loss hit him. Kaltiak was dead; he had already accepted that fact. He accepted it the second the bullet made contact. But now he was just missing the things that they'll never get to do again. Mostly they just sat around, drank, and talked. They'd discuss just about anything; jokes they heard, rumors from the Terminus Systems, philosophy, specs on whatever the latest weaponry was, the hilarious look on the face of whatever poor bastard they killed that day, and sometimes they'd compare themselves to other great fighters. They discussed if they could've survived Eden Prime, or if they could've helped during the Battle of the Citadel against the Geth. They talked about how they could take down Krogan kill squads, or Asari Commando units. In every case they were so drunk by the end of the talk that they decided they'd always win. Though the thing that got to Theramod the most was now Kaltiak wouldn't even know how his own parents died. I should've just told him when it happened. Now he's gone to the grave not knowing. Nobody deserves that, no matter how worthless their parents were. Theramod thought, and the sorrow began to tighten Theramod's throat like a chokehold. He took a swig right from the pitcher. The alcohol washed away the taste of ashes, just as it always had done.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" a voice asked from behind Theramod. The tone of the voice confused him, as it sounded almost exactly like a Krogan's voice, just higher pitched, and it had a sense of intelligence and politeness to it. Theramod turned towards the voice and was startled when he was eye to eye with a Vorcha. The first thing that caught Theramod's attention was how strange the Vorcha's eyes were. Instead of the normal red, they were a reddish-purple. Many of the veins that would normally have run over this Vorcha's pale white skin were smoother and were mostly nonvisible. His skin even seemed to have a slight blue hue, shining from underneath the grey upper skin, barely visible, and only where the light hit perfectly. Instead of wearing the primitive straps most Vorcha wore, he wore an expensive looking leather combat jacket and combat leggings, which were mostly black with some orange trimming. The vest had a single pauldron on the right shoulder, with a sleeve only extending almost to the elbow, instead of to the left like the left sleeve. On his left forearm he had 2 words written in Asari script. He wore a polite, genuine smile on his face, and his sharp fangs were cleaned and pearly white. Theramod, stunned by this pleasantly different Vorcha, hesitated with his answer. The Vorcha's grin quickly turned into an apologetic frown. "Sorry to bother you sir." He quickly said and began to turn to walk away.
"Hold on a second," Theramod quickly said, and the Vorcha turned back around. "You can sit here. I would enjoy the company. I just wasn't expecting to see a Vorcha here on the Citadel. You just caught me by surprise, that's all."
The Vorcha walked back over and sat down on the stool beside Theramod. "I get that a lot," the Vorcha said, "Then again, I could say the same thing about you as well. People do not really see many Drell on the Citadel either. Are you on business for the Hanar, or are you just a traveler?"
Theramod replied with purposely forced remorse, "Unfortunately the Hanar have their tentacles wrapped around my balls."
The Vorcha let out a short laugh that sounded more like a Krogan being kicked in the quad than a laugh, and then said "That sounds like a weird pornography video."
Theramod was stunned for just a moment, and then had a good, long laugh. The first he had in a while. He didn't really know why it was so funny; it just was at the time. "I wish it was like that so I could video tape it and actually make some money off of the situation. Though then again, I can buy anything I want with Primacy funds and just pass it off as a necessity to complete my mission. Speaking of which, want a drink? The Primacy's picking up the tab."
The Vorcha nodded, "That sounds wonderful. Thank you." He sat down and took a swig from the filled glass.
"Well now that we both have a drink I guess it's time for the introductions. I'm Theramod." Theramod said, and held out his hand to the Vorcha.
The Vorcha took his hand and shook it, quickly saying "My name is Kenny."
Theramod looked at The Vorcha puzzled. "Kenny," he asked, "Isn't that a human name?"
Kenny shrugged. "Yeah, normally it is. I do not really remember my name though. It was Ken, something…so I just started using Kenny. It also sounds just a bit less savage than your typical Vorcha name, don't you think?"
"How does someone forget their own name?" Theramod inquired, genuinely curious.
Kenny sighed, he'd answered this question a thousand times. Everyone needed an explanation for everything. I have a human name. So what? I can't remember my name? So what? Why does everyone need to push and pry? He picked up the glass and took a swig. "I was taken from my clan on Wrill by some Krogan who were with the Bloodpack when I was a couple months old. I was too young for them to use, so they abandoned me. I was picked up by some Asari who were passing by Tuchanka. I can't remember my whole name, so I started using Kenny."
Theramod listened intently, and kept his face blank. "Damn," was all he said, and he shook his head as he let out a small half sigh, half chuckle.
Kenny took the gesture as disinterest. He quickly jumped to anger, and spoke venomously, "Though I guess I should not expect someone else to display any sympathy for a Vorcha."
Theramod quickly spoke up, realizing he had upset his drinking buddy for the time being. "Sorry. That's just what I do when I don't know what to say. That must have been terrible to have your entire life torn away. I've been through something similar; I know what it's like."
Kenny realized that his hostility was misplaced and tried awkwardly to mend the conversation, "I apologize, I just agitated when I'm talking about the past. It's like a…what is the human expression? An albatross around my neck? If you have been through the same, you know what I am trying to say…"
Theramod decided that these kind of conversations were best to have as drunk as possible, and chugged his glass down and began refilling it as he answered, "Sorry, but I don't. My past is the furthest thing from my mind. The way I look at it, why worry about the past? It's the future that you have to face, and since you can't control that either you should just think about the present. Always works for me."
Kenny was silent for a second, regarding what Theramod said thoughtfully. It made sense, but… "It cannot possibly be that simple." Kenny thought aloud, not even realizing he was saying it.
Theramod spoke cheerfully. "Actually it is. Kill enough people and drink enough good booze and you can forget anything. Anger helps too. Nothing can stop bad thoughts like a good old fashioned dose of pure blood rage to numb the senses."
Kenny chuckled a bit, and then spoke admiringly, "Spoken like a true psychopath. I would not mind following a man like you into battle. I doubt I would even have to do participate in the fighting. You would probably just cut through everything like a maelstrom."
Theramod jumped at the opportunity to have at least one bearable person on his team, he had no idea who the Primacy would hire, probably a bunch of stuck up new recruits. "Funny you should mention that. I'm hiring, if you're interested."
Kenny paused for a moment. He wasn't exactly sure what to make of the offer. On one hand, Theramod seemed like an entertaining person, or at the very least someone you could share a drink with, but on the other hand everything about him seemed to radiate with a sense of a fury, locked deep down inside. His look, his temperament, even his smile was heated from within by the deeply rooted anger. After a brief pause, he decided finally to accept. Knowing enough about the Hanar, he decided that payment from the Primacy would be substantial, and if things went bad, there were worse ways to die than be gutted by a crazy Drell. But he wanted to seem more reserved than what his instincts said, so he decided to ask a question first, to seem more business like, "What kind of work would we be doing?"
"Want the abridged version or the long version?" Theramod asked.
Kenny shrugged, "The abridged version will do just fine."
Theramod smirked "We're going to jump across a couple planets and kill an ass-ton of Krogan, Batarians, Vorcha, you know, just typical merc scum." Theramod realized he might have offended his new companion and quickly tried to cover his tracks, "Well, for the most part at least. There's also going to be a few humans thrown in, so expect to put a bullet into any race." Theramod nervously reached behind his head and scratched at the gash on the back of his head.
Kenny, taking no offense to Theramod's statement, or at least appearing to not have, grinned and said enthusiastically, "That sounds like a job that would suit myself, short and straightforward. When are we setting out"
"Hopefully tomorrow. The Primacy is going to throw together a squad for me. They're also going to supply us with a Corvette class ship, and a couple crates of weaponry," Theramod grinned, "And they're also going to be paying a certain merc Vorcha a modest sum of 250,000 credits for his services. I'll try and write it off as an expense for a tour of The Council's favorite bathrooms on The Citadel, just to fuck with them…and because they really don't allow me to hire mercenaries of my own choosing. They like to select their own"
Kenny's face drooped into a worried frown, "Won't that anger the Primacy?" He wasn't sure how anybody could get away with taking advantage of funds entrusted to them, especially when he was breaking guidelines. Not only that, he is mocking them! Kenny wasn't sure what he was getting himself into; he was used to being around rebels, just not when they're biting the hand that feeds them.
Theramod brushed the question off, "They're very forgiving. And besides, they'd rather put up with my shit than lose one of their best."
Kenny was starting to become skeptical of what Theramod was saying. If he was one of the best why would he have to hire mercenaries? Should he not have his own team? "Why do you not have a regular team? I thought Special Forces of any race worked either alone or in tight-knit groups."
Theramod didn't want to talk about his brother anymore, he just wanted to tuck the memories away somewhere and forget about them, but he spoke up anyways, "Well, I always used to work alone or with my brother…but he died recently, and I need extra backup to complete my assignment."
Kenny regarded his answer in silence for a moment. "Alright, that is a good enough answer for me," Kenny refilled his glass, and chugged it. "I am going to head back to my motel now. I have to perform some maintenance on my handguns before I can travel with you; I am currently in the process of modifying them. Where should I meet you tomorrow?"
"Docking bay 13. That's where the Hanar are having the ship docked. You might also bump into the rest of the team there. I'll meet you there sometime in the morning."
"Okay, I understand. I will be there" Kenny stood up and took a couple steps before turning back and saying casually, "It was a pleasure meeting you Theramod." And with that, the unique Vorcha disappeared through the crowd leaving Theramod alone again with his pitcher of ale…which wasn't exactly the best thing for his sobriety.
Two hours later Theramod stumbled into the doorway of the first motel, so drunk he could barely speak. The proprietor of the ritzy motel was going to throw him back out onto the streets, but luckily a Vorcha there claimed that Theramod was with him. In just a few minutes Theramod was in a comfortable motel bed, completely out cold. A few feet away the Vorcha's hands worked endlessly over the various equipment scattered over the makeshift workbench. Hours later, when everything was optimized, the workbench became his bed. He tucked everything into his rucksack and stretched out on the hard metal. He worried that it would take him forever to fall asleep on the hard surface after getting used to the luxury of a bed. Despite this, sleep over took him before he could realize it, as though his body was eager to get itself ready for tomorrow as well.
