Chapter Three - Opening Day
The Krogan roared in pain, trying to bring his shotgun around to knock his attacker away. Up close, and even with pouring blood from a smashed dimple in his face, the massive alien both looked and sounded terrifying. Before he could do anything to stop her, the towering thug found a shotgun shoved through the hole in his armor and discharged into his head. Not even a Krogan could survive that, and the body collapsed a few seconds later, opening the Reyja'Krem up to the dual blasts from her other two opponents.
She wasn't there anymore, though, a shorter biotic charge carrying her in between them. A knife was suddenly in her hand from some hidden sheath, and I found myself blinking as it actually cut a bleeding gouge across the left arm of the Krogan on her right. The knife had to have gone halfway through his arm with almost no resistance, and I didn't know of any metal that could do that.
Elana just hummed. "Interesting. You seem to have had good choice in picking your hire, but you might want to watch your back around her."
I took my eyes off the fight. Sal'Ris didn't even seem to be scared as she darted around everyone, slashing at one Krogan and keeping his bulk between her and the other. At first the cuts stopped bleeding after about thirty seconds, but as she went they started staying open, chunks of flesh literally falling away in a geyser of orange blood. It was horrifying. "What do you mean?"
"That's a vibroknife. SIU issue. They keep those things on a genetic lock for high-ranking officers and assassins." She paused and then elaborated, "That knife could cut a frigate in half if you gave her enough time. Someone like her almost never gets exiled, much less gets to keep something that expensive. Stay alert."
I nodded. Of course the person I hired and would be living with had to be from a group that everyone on my colony had been terrified of, which was known for ruining anyone who stood against the Hegemony. She hadn't given me any reason not to trust her, yet, and she was risking her life to protect my store now.
Another shotgun blast, a lighter one from Sal'Ris rather than the thunder of the Krogan guns, signaled the death of another alien. The third found himself disarmed by a biotic throw, then knocked down by a biotically-assisted tackle, three shotgun blasts perforating his own helmet. The Batarians stood around the dead bodies, then as one tilted their heads as far left and forwards as their necks would allow. The expression of total shame.
"This place and its owner are under my protection. Do not dishonor its name. You may leave, for you showed better judgment than these fools, but you are not to return without intention to do honest business."
The Batarians scurried off after that, practically sprinting, and I had to close my eyes as they opened fire on the mob in front of them when they couldn't get through. The sprays of red, orange, and blue blood still stained the inside of my eyelids, though. When I left this station, IF I left this station, I wouldn't be the same person anymore. I didn't even realize that Sal'Ris had come back in until Irina clapped me on the shoulder and took me up to the living area.
The mob was still there, but everyone took a much wider berth around us after seeing the three mutilated Krogan corpses on our doorstep. At least, that's what Elana told me. I just stayed inside and talked with Irina about what it was like growing up on a backwater colony in the Dark Rim. I had to stop a few times when the hurt was still too raw, like when I told her about Naliin and explained the runes on my cane. When I did she told me about living on Illium as the youngest of a single mother with three daughters barely two years apart in age, something almost unheard of among Asari.
Sal'Ris mostly just sat and listened, taking her helmet off halfway through when I asked if I could get her a glass of water while I was up. I couldn't help but notice how her ears were larger than Lilush's had been, coming to a fine point. The only words she actually said after coming inside that day were about how she didn't get outside or talk to people much growing up. We didn't ask any more.
An eight hour shift later, the Asari were up in the living area playing cards, with a makeshift intercom ready to call them down if anything went wrong. I was behind the armored divider, most of the inventory neatly laid out next to me. Sal'Ris, in full armor that I'd patched up to look more presentable, was wandering along the left side of the room. We'd decided to mark both her armor and mine with three concentric pentagons of columns on the chestplate. It tied in with the name of the store, "Strength of the Pillars".
I was in full armor too, just to be on the safe side. It also meant that people would assume I was a Batarian, which could lead to a few obstacles, but I had my reasons for wanting to further that impression. My Asari guards and the exiled noble currently standing in the center of the four pedestal displays hadn't questioned me, something I was grateful for.
It had been a bare few minutes since we'd switched the sign on, the additional script saying in several languages which shifts we were open, so nobody had come in yet. It would probably be another ten or fifteen minutes before any of the traffic going to or from Doru decided to stop in. We were prepared in case any of the small gangs and mercenary groups tried to demand protection money, but after seeing Sal'Ris yesterday I wasn't really worried about that anymore.
The first person to walk in was a Turian with a scarred fringe and a missing mandible. He was in fairly good armor for this station, but the gun he had didn't seem too impressive. Maybe we could fix that.
"This place is new isn't it? I don't remember seeing it before." He was conversational as he browsed the left-hand side of the room, from my perspective, checking the five different models of pistols there. There wasn't much difference between them, but they were all from Hahne-Kehdar. The majority of the stock were civilian models, but we had a few Kesslers included in the shipment. The shotguns on the other wall were of a similar composition.
"It is. We've only just opened. I apologize for the rather limited nature of our stock; we'll be expanding as the funds to purchase more inventory become available."
His wandering led him to the shotguns next, but he didn't go further than checking the statistics for each gun. "Shame." His eyes fell on the pistol on my Batarian guard's hip. "That doesn't look like a stock model. Do you have any of those?"
"It's not stock. That pistol is one of seven currently in existence, and is a custom design of my own devising. They are still in prototyping phases, and I have no wish for an unseen flaw to harm any of my esteemed customers."
He trilled with interest. "So you're saying that theoretically I could purchase one?"
"Yes, if you wished. The price would be twice that of the Kessler, at two thousand credits, but I think that you might be satisfied. It would come with free servicing for any errors you encounter, due to its nature as a prototype."
I listed off the statistics of one of the three extra models I'd made over the last couple of shifts. It was actually relaxing to put the parts together, and I realized that when I was out of my armor I made a lot fewer stupid mistakes. I still had the problem with too many fingers for my muscle memory to work right, though. Which was frustrating and the reason for a few small bandages on each hand. It turned out that medigel was really expensive, so this worked better.
It wasn't as reliable, sleek, or safe as mass-produced models from civilized space, but the stats impressed the alien enough that he paid the asking price without haggling. If I'd actually been Batarian, that would have been an insult. At least to a traditionalist, anyway. But my price had been fair from the beginning, instead of raised to encourage negotiations, so I was pleasantly surprised.
There was a warm feeling in my gut as he walked away. I didn't know what he'd use the gun for and I didn't want to. To know that the first person I ever sold anything to chose my own design over that of a company that supplied the entire Alliance military was satisfying. Extremely so. I was smiling under my helmet as he left and we went back to waiting.
After four hours of sitting there that satisfaction was gone. My back hurt, I was bored out of my mind, and not even exchanging messages with Mellaris while she lay in bed on Xentha could help. It was honestly a miracle that she was alive, even though her spine had been cleanly severed by the bullet that hit her. She was paralyzed essentially from just below her lungs down, and the surgery that could fix it would cost over a million credits. While Cessa had paid initially for her care at the hospital on the most civilized world in the deep Terminus, that was it. It was up to me to pay for her care and hopefully her surgery.
We'd just closed temporarily to eat when she stopped answering, finally asleep, and I could take off my helmet. The cheap armor I'd gotten wasn't climate controlled, or at least the system didn't work, so it was really nice to finally get out of the sweltering piece of shit and feel the slowly circulating air of our living area brush against my sweat-matted hair. Sal'Ris paused with a bite of some type of sandwich halfway to her mouth, all four of her eyes blinking at me.
"Uh, why are you looking at me like I just grew a second head?" Four unblinking eyes staring straight at me was uncomfortable and brought up flashes of seeing the Prothean die in my memories.
Her words were like something a kid would ask. "What happened to your fur?"
"You mean my hair?" I grimaced as I brushed the strands of it that were stuck to my forehead back. I hated the feeling of sweaty hair and clammy skin. I realized what she meant as I shook my head some to get it out of the neck joint of my armor. It was all frizzed out. "Oh. It does this when it's humid. I guess I really was sweating if it got this bad."
"How does it do that?"
I shrugged. "I have no idea. It's just something that happens when it gets this long. It's not conscious; hair isn't alive, we can't make it do anything."
The rest of the meal went on in silence, until I had to shove the unruly mane that was my shoulder-length hair back into my armor. I'd probably need to cut it soon. It would be the first time I'd had to do it myself, but I was sure I couldn't trust anyone to do it here on Omega.
We'd only just unlocked the door when a group of six people swaggered in. The only one in armor, which looked like it would turn to dust in a light breeze, was the leader. A hook-nosed human with greasy hair and skin that looked like an erupting volcano, he didn't even have a helmet on. The Asari were picking up a shipment from the docks down in Doru for me, but I doubted we'd have a problem handling this.
The barrier in front of me squealed as I slid an extra sheet of bulletproof glass over the perforated section that I spoke through. I could see my guard surreptitiously undoing the safety on her shotgun, a feature that I'd insisted she actually use while indoors. Their boss sauntered up to the table directly across from me without saying a word, while his equally-greasy goons started taking the shotguns and pistols off the wall.
"Unless you're planning to shell out the credits, I would..." He cut me off as soon as the crappy translator in his ear started working, slamming his hands down on the black counter. They left a smear.
"Now, listen here you squints, this is how it's going to happen," I grimaced as specks of liquid splattered the glass while he spoke. "You're in our territory, which means you're going to pay us fifty-thousand credits and half your inventory, or we kill you both and take it all."
My heart was hammering in my chest as I pulled the pistol on my hip up into my hand. Sal'Ris was just looking at me, waiting for permission to shoot. I had to at least try to make this bloodless though.
My response was in English, but it didn't feel like me speaking. "You and your shabby little gang will leave if you know what's good for you. You aren't the Hunters of Shadow, and they control this section of Fumi. Now get out of my sight before my associate carves you into bite-sized chunks for the next Krogan that passes through."
The man practically growled, and I saw one of his lackeys raise the shotgun he'd taken off the wall in Sal'Ris's direction. The idiots were dumb enough to think we'd leave working guns out where anyone could touch them. I sighed and closed my eyes even as the man pounded his fist against the protective barrier.
"Reyja'Krem, you may fire at will."
Two shotgun blasts, a spattering of lighter shots, and some sickening crunches later, and I knew it was done. This was followed by the chime of the door opening.
Before I could tell her to clean up the mess, or even curse at how the next set of customers had chosen now to arrive, a deep rumbling voice cut in, "I see you finished those two-bit charlatans before we got here."
I looked up, flinching slightly at the sight of blood and body parts spattered everywhere, to see a Krogan much bigger than the three yesterday, at least in perspective. He had no helmet on, but I really doubted that he needed it. The crest on his skull seemed strong enough to stop a shotgun blast. Him, and the three heavily-armed Turians behind him, were in matte black armor with a bow-bearing figure next to a reflective black patch. The Hunters of Shadow.
"Well, that means a bit less of a bounty for us, but I have to say that you're an efficient one, Batarian." He dipped his head at her. "I don't see such elegant carnage very often, even from one with the Soulfire. Need any help cleaning up?"
"If you wouldn't mind. This is our opening day and I'd rather not have the place full of corpses." After I finished the Krogan told his followers to take them to some dumping area. Sal'Ris followed. "So, you were here following them?"
"They'd been hassling a few people who pay for our protection. So we were going to smash them to make an example." He sniffed and walked forward, tracking blood up closer to my counter. "I'm assuming you don't intend to pay for such, after how efficient your helper was?"
"Not in the foreseeable future. And if your people try to demand it, you'll end up like the three Krogan we had to kill during the riot earlier."
He leaned forward, my counter creaking under his weight. "And if I broke through this little divider and threatened to bite your squishy little head off unless you paid us?"
I was shaking inside, my armor, but it didn't show. I knew I had to try to act calm and confident. Strength, even the illusion of it, went a long way here. But that didn't explain the almost arrogant tone I replied in. It didn't even feel like me speaking. "I'd shoot you as many times as I could and overload my pistol so the heatsinks would blow up and leave you with some scars you wouldn't regenerate for awhile."
He laughed and leaned back, flashing me a toothy grin. "You've got guts. I like that." My omnitool pinged as he sent his contact information to me. "If you've got a good fight or anything special to sell, you can call on me. Don't see many humans brave enough to stand up to me. I'll be sure to send the runts Juyl recruits here."
I nodded. It felt like some ice faded out of my veins as I replied, the back of my mind tingling with satisfaction or something. "Just make sure they keep their drugs away. I know that's your gang's main scheme."
He shrugged and gave another predatory grin. "Sure."
We didn't shake hands or anything, and as soon as his Turians got back they left. It was then that I could finally relax and let out a big breath, looking down at my omnitool to see his name. Urdnot Zakal.
"You mean to say you stood up to a Krogan by yourself?" Irina's eyes seemed to get bigger than I'd thought possible as she spoke.
The shop was closed for the night shift, and I was sprawled out on the shorter of the two couches. She and her companions had only just arrived with my last shipment, for the immediate future anyway, and would be leaving in about fifteen minutes. I'd already given them their payment, officially clearing out the majority of my finances, and everyone was just being lazy now.
"More like the Krogan died laughing at the human with the gimp leg trying to threaten him." One of the two I'd barely spoken to commented. A pained grunt followed as Elana slapped her on the back of the head for being rude.
A bit of small talk and an exchange of information later, and it was just me and the Batarian in the building. We were watching one of the three actual news stations based on Omega, the Asari anchor talking about how tensions were stirring in the Terminus and about some Turian warlord dying and an Asari named T'Ravt taking over his territory.
I hadn't done much actual work, but I was mentally exhausted. "We need to find some more help. I don't know how to, though; I can't afford another mercenary like you yet."
Sal'Ris sounded just as tired as I was. "You could always buy a slave."
She practically spat the last word. I grimaced, glad she couldn't see my face. "I don't like the thought of owning someone." It made me sick.
"Then you don't approve of slavery?"
"I approve of it the way the Pillars outline it. As a punishment for criminals, not as a way of tormenting innocents and making money off of kidnapping." In other words, I was more committed to and observant of the Pillars of Strength than most Batarians.
She just grunted. The noise, and creak of plastic as she shifted on her own couch, hinted at a story that might not be pleasant to hear.
"I guess we could go look tomorrow, though. We could just buy someone and then free them to work for us." I was really squeamish at the thought of it. But it really was the best way.
Sal'Ris seemed silent and just stared unseeingly at the wall after that, and eventually I walked back to my room, collapsed on the bed, and promptly passed out.
I was alone. All around me waving grasses rustled in a nighttime breeze, the wind itself warm and laden with the scent of the glowing flowers that sprinkled the field. Three moons spiraled through the sky above, green, yellow, and crimson surfaces glinting alongside the stars.
To my left stretched a vast expanse of desert, and to my right lay the low mouth of my workshop. I would never see it again, as I was forced to evacuate during the Reaper's inevitable advance. The Mass Relays were shutdown, but we had multiple fallbacks setup in this cluster. That's what Javik had said. I was too valuable to leave behind.
Maybe I wasn't as alone as I felt. The other Prothean set his hand on my shoulder, understanding my reluctance.
"I will be the fist of our people, brother. We will have Vengeance."
I nodded, my eyes blinking in sequence as the workshop sealed itself, sinking in secret beneath the ground. "And mine will be the hand to forge our blade."
