Bar Brawl

"There. On the monitor. Something's wrong."

"She's reacting to outside stimuli, showing an awareness of her surroundings... Oh my God, Miranda... I think she's waking up!"

"Damn it, Wilson! She's not ready yet! Give her the sedative! Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still. Try to stay calm!"

"Heart rate's still climbing. Brain activity's off the charts! Stats pushing into the red zone; it's not working!"

"Another dose. Now!"

"Heart rate dropping. Stats falling back into normal range. That was too close... We almost lost her."

"I told you your estimates were off! Run the numbers again."

0

August 8, 2560 / Omega Nebula

Two quiet and uneventful years had passed by. Life in the galaxy had continued as it always had for thousands of years. When people looked back on the Battle of the Citadel, they could scarcely believe that it had really happened. If it wasn't for the news reports of the continued efforts to rebuild the Citadel then no-one would have believed anything to be capable of attacking the station that sat at the heart of galactic government. Very few knew the truth of Sovereign; as far as much of the galaxy was concerned it was just a highly-advanced Geth warship. No-one in a position of power wanted to publically admit the horrifying truth and risk undoing the fragile peace that they had struggled to build.

Of course, the machinations of the Citadel Council were of little interest to those out in the lawless Terminus Systems, and indeed many in those systems had shrugged off the news of the Citadel attack relatively quickly. As far as some were concerned, particularly their most outspoken opponents the Batarians, the Council had it coming. The systems were a haven for pirates, slavers and all manner of other undesirables, while vibrant people who had wanted to escape from the regulations of the Council found that their search for an easier life in the systems had ended in disaster.

Given the choice, Alan would never set foot in the systems, but he knew that they were also the perfect place for a group such as Cerberus to operate. For two years he had tried to get by, following up on any lead that he could, and at last he thought that he might find something substantial to follow up on. However, doing so would mean he would have to set foot on Omega. By its reputation it was regarded as the capital city of every criminal gang in the galaxy. It was a place that seemed to serve as the embodiment of the Terminus Systems; a place where everyone made their own laws.

The city was a former mining colony, built up and expanded as the asteroid it was built into was excavated for the valuable ores contained within. The shape of it reminded Alan of a mushroom cloud, with seemed a perfect analogy to him. As he and Dorva stepped out of the docking cradle into the city itself, the stench of stale, metallic air was overpowering. He had left Alistair and Call on board the Serenity while they met with their contact, for in this place he didn't like the idea of leaving the ship unguarded.

The two of them soon emerged into what looked like a small square, with various individuals of other races milling about. The whole place was a far cry from somewhere like Illium or the Citadel Presidium; every surface seemed to be covered in grime and neon. Right in front of them was a long queue in front of a large door guarded by several bouncers. A neon sign over the door gave the name of the place as 'Afterlife'.

"Are you sure this is the place, Captain?" asked Dorva.

"This is where the message said to meet her," replied Alan. "I can't believe we even have to speak to her to get this new lead. What have we been reduced to?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," sighed Dorva. "I'm living proof of that." Alan knew that he was referring to a bad deal that Dorva had made years ago to try to save his family; a deal which had earned him the enmity of everyone in the Fleet Shadow of Fury. Even now, two years after his re-instatement in the fleet, none of his Sangheili brethren had let him forget his mistake.

"It still feels like making a deal with a dragon," muttered Alan, reciting a phrase made infamous during the mid 21st century. "That was a habit I'd hoped to break long ago. How did she find out what we were doing, anyway?"

"She has built up a network of contacts all over the Terminus Systems since becoming the de facto ruler of Omega," said Dorva. "Apparently she has three centuries of commando experience to draw from. It would not surprise me if word reached her about us sooner or later."

"So much for the subtle approach," Alan groaned. "How do you know about these things anyway?"

"Don't forget that I was hiding in the Terminus Systems for a few months," said Dorva quietly. "I had time to learn about the key figures in the systems. She spends most of her time in that nightclub across the street." He jerked his head in the direction of Afterlife.

"Well, we might as well get this over with," said Alan. "It's weird not being able to turn to Kiryuu for any information. I never thought I'd see a place he couldn't reach."

"Nobody's perfect," said Dorva. "Why do you think he hires Shadowrunners like ourselves?"

"Point taken," said Alan, as they walked towards the door to Afterlife. Walking past the queue, they soon found themselves face to face with a large, lumbering Elcor. These grey-skinned, ape-like beings walked on their long forearms, and always wore different-coloured robes on their backs. The Elcor peered at the two with its small, dark eyes as it was joined by a Batarian. The Batarians were humanoid in shape, only with brown skin, four eyes each, ribbed faces and mouths full of sharp teeth. Alan resented the Batarians, for they had a habit of kidnapping other races to use as slaves, something they claimed was an inextricable part of their caste system. Humans were a popular target among them, especially since the UNSC destroyed a large slaver base on Torfan, as retaliation for a Batarian siege on the UNSC base on Elysium. He had never met a Batarian who was not completely disagreeable; he could not see the race as anything other than a band of pirates, slavers, murderers and, generally, the scum of the universe.

"Firmly, that's far enough," said the Elcor in a deep monotone voice. As Elcor usually communicated through scent and motion, they had found their vocal chords unable to express emotional inflection. As a result they had formed the habit of always announcing their intended tone of voice before they spoke, something which Alan considered an endless source of amusement.

"I'm Captain Alan Tyler," said Alan formally. "This is Dorva 'Elus. Aria T'Loak's expecting us both."

The Batarian moved closer to them and used his Omni-Tool to scan them. Alan rolled his eyes as he pulled his large silver revolver out of its holster for a brief moment.

"If you're looking for weapons, you're not doing a very good job," he said sarcastically.

"The scan's for any bugs you're carryin'," the Batarian grunted. "What are you, fresh off the boat? We've got a virus in the slums so potent that we've had to lock 'em down. If it gets out ya can kiss anyone who ain't human goodbye. Besides, only a human would be dumb enough to walk around on Omega without a gun." He turned to his Elcor companion. "They're clean."

"Pleasantly," the Elcor said, "go on in. Aria's expecting you."

"What?" a human at the front of the queue shouted indignantly. "You asshole! You're letting them cut the queue but not me? Aria's expecting me too!"

"Annoyed," grunted the Elcor, "if she was expecting you, you would already be inside."

Alan and Dorva strode through the door and down a corridor decorated with holograms of leaping flames. They soon stepped into the club itself, which was a large space filled with patrons of various races drinking, dancing or admiring the leather-clad Asari pole and table dancers and their provocative moves. Neon lights filled the chamber with multi-coloured hues, yet it was still rather dark, making Alan thankful for his natural night-vision. It was almost impossible to hear anything other than the loud, thudding bass rhythms of the techno music. He led the way through the crowds towards a set of stairs at the back of the hall, leading up to a small balcony overlooking the dance-floor. As he was about to walk up the stairs, however, he was stopped by a Turian, wearing grey armour that matched the scales on his cruel, almost-skeletal face and carrying an assault rifle.

"Not just yet, Tyler," the Turian said gruffly.

"Didn't your doormen tell you?" Alan asked. "We've got an appointment with Aria."

"I know that," the Turian responded. "The name's Grizz, and Aria's got a job that she needs you to do. She says it's your payment for the information she has."

"We weren't told about a payment!" Alan barked indignantly. "If she's trying to screw me out of the info..."

"Don't do anything stupid," said Grizz firmly. "The information's good. You just need to earn it with this payment errand."

"Well, that all depends on what Aria has in mind," Alan retorted.

"Aria's gotten word that some Blood Pack mercs plan to kill an old acquaintance of hers," said Grizz. "A Krogan named Patriarch. She'd like you to keep that from happening."

"I've heard of the Blood Pack," Dorva explained. "They're one of the big mercenary gangs in the Terminus Systems. They're mostly Krogan, but they also use Vorcha as cannon fodder."

"Is that right?" asked Alan. "So why come to me? Aria's usual muscle not up to the job?"

"Because Aria said so, and she has something you want," Grizz shrugged. "What other reason do you need?"

"People like Aria don't do things without a good reason," said Dorva firmly. "We want to hear it."

"Fine," grunted Grizz. "But I didn't tell you this. You got me?" He leaned in closer before speaking further. "If it gets out that Aria's protecting Patriarch... Well, that can look like a weakness, and some people might want to exploit that. You're not on her payroll, so you helping Patriarch just seems like a random act of kindness."

"Okay, I get that," shrugged Alan. "What's Aria's interest in protecting him?"

"Patriarch was one of her deadliest enemies back in the old days," said Grizz. "Now she keeps what's left of him around as a trophy. As long as he lives, he's a perfect example of what happens when you go up against Aria."

"So what's the Blood Pack's problem with him?" asked Alan.

"If you've met Patriarch, you know," said Grizz. "He can't keep his damn mouth shut. Some people don't appreciate his stories, especially when he dips into non-fiction."

"Well, I need that information Aria has," said Alan firmly. "I'll look into it."

"Good," said Grizz. "Patriarch's downstairs, likely surrounded by his 'fans'. Get him into hiding until the mercs move on. Come back here when it's done, and you'll get your due."

With that, Alan and Dorva headed through the back door of the club, which lead to a flight of stairs leading down. They soon found themselves in Afterlife's lower level, which was largely taking up by a bar in the centre. They passed by two humans sat at the bar - one of them now looking very ill and clutching his stomach – and walked to a small side-room. This lounge was occupied by an old, tortoise-like Krogan, who was currently imparting what sounded like advice on an Asari and a Turian.

"No," Alan heard him saying in his deep, guttural voice. "You said he had close family. They'll just want revenge. Kill the family first. Then he'll get angry and come at you stupid... and then you kill him." As his two guests left Alan and Dorva approached, and the Krogan turned to face them.

"Don't think I know you," he said. "I'm the Patriarch... Aria's Patriarch. What do you want?"

"So you're the Patriarch?" Alan asked. "What do you know about Aria?"

"A few centuries ago," said Patriarch, "Omega was my rock. When Aria arrived, she had nothing but the clothes on her back. I thought she was another dancer." He chuckled darkly to himself. "She killed half my men and convinced the rest that she could run this place better than I did. She came for me here in this bar. We tore this place apart. She crushed one of my hearts, shattered half the bones in my body, then left me alive."

"What made her decide to leave you alive?" asked Dorva.

"She doesn't destroy what she can use," Patriarch hissed. "She said I could have all my old comforts if I served as her advisor. I knew how things worked. I knew who to lean on, who to smack down, who to smile at, and everyone who respected me saw that I was beaten, broken. They knew that as strong as I'd been, she was stronger."

"A Krogan as old as you must have some great stories," Alan chimed in.

"I killed a lot of people," said Patriarch sadly, "lived well, and was beaten by a small Asari who keeps me around as an example. My time is done. Anyone I killed is long forgotten. The stories are Aria's now."

"Why do they call you 'Patriarch'?" asked Dorva. "It doesn't sound like a very Krogan-ish name."

"Like an Asari Matriarch, only male," Patriarch grunted. "Aria's little joke. After she took me down, she let me live. Kept me around as an advisor... and a trophy."

"Well, I guess I should get down to business," said Alan. "Rumour has it some people want you dead. You know anything about that?"

"Oh, I can think of a few," said Patriarch idly. "I know things; old secrets, old grudges, a few floors you can dig up to find bodies underneath. Someone who wanted to weaken Aria might come after me. They'd do it to get to her, you see. Not for me. I don't matter enough anymore to have enemies of my own."

"Apparently you matter enough to the Blood Pack," said Alan. "They're sending assassins your way. We've been asked to move you to safety."

"Of course," Patriarch said, his reptilian face twisting into a sneer. "Aria wouldn't want me hurt. It would make her look bad. But perhaps Aria's reputation is no longer my concern. Perhaps I will stay, and see who thinks me important enough to kill."

He stepped away from Alan at that point and turned his back to the mutant. Alan was about to say that Patriarch would go if Alan had to drag him every step of the way; he was too close to a real lead to let one stubborn Krogan stand in his way now. However, Dorva grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head. The Sangheili stepped in front of Alan and approached Patriarch.

"Here's an idea," said Dorva. "Let us deal with the assassins for you."

"And so your names grow," groaned Patriarch, "while I remain an old man who lets others fight his battle."

"No," said Dorva firmly. "You remain a powerful warlord with forces at his command. Not just Aria's trophy." Alan couldn't help admiring Dorva's sheer nerve; the Sangheili was noticeably shell-shocked on their first meeting, and over the last two years he had become noticeably bolder. Patriarch turned to face Dorva, and there was now a gleam of hope in his green reptilian eyes.

"You could..." he breathed. "You could be my krantt, fighting for my honour. If you would do this for me, I would be grateful. I might even be a Krogan again."

Alan and Dorva left the room after that. They noticed that there was a back door into the nightclub on this level. If the assassins were to come by the quickest way to Patriarch, they would certainly choose that door. So Alan and Dorva waited by the door for something to happen.

Sure enough, a few minutes later two armoured Krogans entered the club, both wielding what looked like flame-throwers. Alan and Dorva moved to stand between them and Patriarch's room, prompting the Krogans to raise their weapons to them.

"Out of our way," one of the Krogans snarled.

"You here for Patriarch?" Alan said loudly, so that others in the bar could hear the exchange.

"What if we are?" the Krogan barked. "You gonna do something about it?"

"Patriarch sent us," said Dorva boldly. "Said to do whatever it takes."

"You're Patriarch's krantt?" asked the merc. "I wasn't aware the old man even had one!"

'Krantt' was the Krogan term given to a warrior's most trusted allies; ones who were willing to kill in his name and his honour.

"You should have done your homework," Alan retorted.

The Krogan suddenly raised his weapon and fired, sending a spray of fire in Alan's direction. However, Alan swiftly ducked under the inferno and released the line of his Technomantic whip. A line of white-blue plasma lashed out at the Krogan, striking him in the chest and sending him toppling over. His companion charged at Dorva, who managed to bat him away with a swift roundhouse kick. The Sangheili grabbed his plasma rifle and fired, striking the Krogan in the face. Both mercenaries soon collapsed to the floor, dead.

Looking around them, Alan saw that the bar crowd were astonished, and now whispering to each other. He had no doubt that word of Patriarch's forces would spread through the club like wildfire. It would have just the effect that the old Krogan wanted. Indeed, when they returned to Patriarch's room, the Krogan looked overjoyed.

"You killed them all!" he exclaimed. "And everyone knows that the Patriarch is not to be crossed! Thanks to you, Aria may think of me as more than a trophy. A real advisor, maybe... Or even a threat."

"Glad we could help," said Alan. "Take care of yourself, Patriarch."

"For the first time, I like that name," Patriarch smiled. He was about to leave, but then turned to Alan and leaned closer to him.

"By the way," he said, "be careful with Aria. She will approve of what you've done, I think, but not of you altering the balance of Omega. I think it reminds her too much of herself."

With that, he strode out of the lounge. Alan and Dorva decided that their business was done, and so headed back up to Afterlife's upper level. When they reached the dance-floor, Grizz approached them.

"Aria wants to speak with you both," he grunted. "She heard that you took on the Blood Pack mercs by yourself. I wouldn't keep her waiting."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alan and Dorva ascended the stairs and walked up to the balcony. There at last they saw Aria T'Loak herself. The Asari was dressed in skin-tight black leather below a white leather jacket. Her purple skin had tattoos on the face, and her head-tentacles, as with all Asari, was set in wavy folds like hair. As Alan approached, a cruel smile curled her lips.

"So you're Alan Tyler, Captain of the junker Serenity," she said.

"That's how some people know me," Alan retorted.

"Word has it that Patriarch's krantt took out the men sent here to kill him," said Aria. "Funny; I didn't know he had a krantt."

"Patriarch's got more influence than you think," said Alan.

"Clearly," Aria chuckled. "I guess I'll have to watch my back from now on. No-one would dare move against him with such a powerful krantt at his side." She offered Alan a seat to her left, which he took, shifting his tail to try and make himself more comfortable, Dorva moving up to join him.

"I got the impression that you and Patriarch have a history," said Alan.

"Our history is Omega's history," said Aria. "Long, bloody, and always ending in my favour. The details are... complicated. When I arrived, Omega was lawless... a land of opportunity. I built alliances, and destroyed the fools who wouldn't get in line... Which was most of them. But Patriarch..." She paused for a moment, gathering her words. "He was something different. A powerful friend."

"I'm surprised you were ever anything other than rivals," said Alan.

"We were allies for a hundred years," said Aria. "I suppose he decided that was long enough. It wasn't a surprise when he turned. He controlled the muscle. My people contributed more subtle action; espionage, politics, assassination, that sort of thing. Fortunately for me, his men had become accustomed to certain... benefits of working with Asari."

Alan instantly had an idea of what Aria meant. There was a lot of talk about Asari promiscuity, something that the Asari race tried to downplay. The fact that they could mate with any race or gender was well-known, and that idea must have seemed appealing to the Krogan, who had been rendered sterile by the Salarians and their genophage.

"Sounds like you changed the rules," Alan spat. "And the battlefield."

"Krogan nature made it easy for us to take advantage," Aria sneered. "Patriarch's men abandoned him in droves. In the end, we fought face-to-face on this very spot. The toughest fight of my life... But of course, I won."

"And then you kept him around as a trophy," said Dorva.

"A trophy and an example," said Aria. "Whenever someone thought about taking me on, I pointed them to Patriarch. Dignity is one of the few commodities not available on Omega."

"'Patriarch' doesn't sound like something an Asari would come up with," said Alan.

"I found it humorous," Aria shrugged. "He wanted power, and we pretended he had it with a word that doesn't exist for my people. I eventually found a certain respect for the title, and the man."

"Interesting," said Alan, "but let's move on."

"Right, back to the reason you dragged your tiny ship all the way out here," Aria said. "It's not what I asked, but you got the job done. As promised, here's your payment."

She handed Alan a datapad. Skimming through it, Alan saw a star chart for somewhere in the Omega Nebula, along with pages of transcripts and ship scans. He knew he would have to examine it in-depth later, but he asked Aria for the short version.

"Short version is," she said, "that a lot of private ships out there have spotted a lot of vessels flying around the cluster. They all seem to be flying to and from the same point, so there has to be some kind of facility there. That's a lot of unregistered traffic out there to be flying through a dead zone."

"So you don't know for certain if this has anything to do with Cerberus?" Alan asked, feeling his heart begin to sink.

"Take a closer look," said Aria, pointing to one of the ship readouts. It showed what looked like a fuzzy photograph; it was a long-range surface scan of a small Kodiak shuttle. Glancing down at it, Alan saw an insignia that was familiar to him. It looked like a black hexagon, stood on its end, with two yellow lines running down either side.

"That's their symbol alright," Alan snarled. He looked up at Aria. "Why are you helping us, though?"

"I'd rather not see the Shadow Broker get any business," said Aria. "Besides, let's just say that any friend of Telek 'Heros is a friend of mine," she added, with a coy smile.

"I get the feeling there's a story there..." Alan breathed.

"It sounds like Telek always did have a rebellious streak," said Dorva. "Even before he joined our army."

"Sometimes I wonder if Archangel is a student of his..." Aria muttered.

"Come again?" asked Alan.

"Archangel's some vigilante who showed up here a few months ago and started causing trouble for the merc bands," Aria explained. "If you make your own laws on Omega, which everyone does, then he'll come after you. He seems to know enough to stay away from me though. Anyway, whatever you do with that information is yours to decide."

It was clear that Aria wasn't interested in talking any longer, and in any case Alan knew that he had to chase this lead up before it went cold. He and Dorva nodded at each other, and got to their feet.

"Thanks," said Alan. "Maybe I'll drop by another day."

"Tell Telek that I owe him a beer," said Aria. "Oh, and you should find a nice young woman to keep you company in the meantime. You look like you need to loosen up a little."