Tuchanka orbit was teeming with ships, most larger and stronger than those at the relay. They were flying inside the shell of an unmanned reconnaissance drone. Perfect stealth but zero shields, limited life support and no weapons. A small thanix cannon and missile system were still locked uselessly in dry-dock. Using the Manta was either inspired or insane.
Vega peeled himself out of his flight harness, green. As a grunt, he'd have been grateful that the consuming roar of the core and thrusters shook all thoughts from his head. Now, it just reminded him of the lives he was risking. Not just planetside, but in this experimental tin can, with its spongy eggshell hull the only thing protecting them from a boiling plasma envelope outside and beyond that, absolute zero.
The Manta was executing a frightening series of high-speed rolls, dodges and flips around craft and debris in a race down to the ground. It was supposed to be invisible to scans and the naked eye.
Vega gulped. Well, gotta hope so.
A single squad, already wearing full combat armour, straightened when he entered their cramped holding pen. Suits were black. No ranks, no insignia. Even their N7 identification had been scrubbed off. If they fell on Tuchanka there would be no sign of Alliance intervention. Without a Council resolution there simply couldn't be.
They would act, eventually; just too late for Wrex.
Hope none of these guys have tattoos like mine.
Vega held on to a strut in the ceiling, allowed his shotgun to dangle from his other hand. It had been years since he'd seen action, but his hands remembered. Being inside his armour again was like being reunited with a second skin. It wicked his fear away like sweat.
He opened his suit comm and barked into it.
"Two minutes from atmo, marines! We drop onto the Ziggurat, grab Wrex andscram. Sedna has mapped access and ventilation systems to your nav interfaces. This is not a sightseeing trip. No war games. No engaging rebels unless we're engaged or obstructed. There is no evidence to suggest they have breached Wrex's defences – but that intel is an hour old, and we're flying blind, men.
Wrex, hold on. I'm coming for you.
"Be ready to beat feet in ten. Vega out."
The squad's echoing hoo-ah made Vega breathe easier. He stooped, returned to his seat. A cloudburst of purples and greens had started to break against the prow; they were touching the edge of Tuchanka's mesosphere. He looked at his feet, tried not to look not out the window.
Sedna opened a private channel.
"Admiral. When we land we will move together. We will be a team. I will protect you."
"Roger that. But don't get underfoot. I can handle myself."
"We will see. You are afraid."
"It would be crazy not to be a little bit afraid, Sedna. I'm okay."
Better than okay, he realised. He was euphoric, in full fight or flight mode, senses in overdrive. The right response, at the right time, for the first time in years. He laid his shotgun across his lap.
"You born on Tuchanka?"
She shifted. "No. I was brought here when I became Wrex's concubine. I was ten."
"You were what? Not sure I heard that right."
"I was ten. It was my choice."
Her expression was unreadable beneath her helmet, but her voice was tinged with derision.
"You have misunderstood. Wrex has Bakara, secondary wives, consorts. The agreement is political, not conjugal. At least, not until I wish it. Wrex may be many things, but he is not a monster. I am lucky. In his position, many others would be."
"I have a daughter – younger than you. Can't imagine her doing what you have. But Wrex – he is good to you?"
"Yes. I wanted to be a Battlemaster. He apprenticed me as soon as I arrived. He has spent years training me. I was lucky enough to be cursed. I would be a mother many times over if I was not."
Vega paused. "I don't get what you mean."
Sedna flared. Purple flame licked around her bulk.
"There is a stupid old myth that they affect fertility. Biotics are rare amongst krogan. Mistrusted. I might have been able to stay with my mother, but they strengthened too early."
Vega lifted his eyes. The Manta was still high enough to glimpse the backlit arc of the planet, but they were driving toward the ground like a stone shot from a catapult. Darkened plateaus lay below, scarred with streaks and pools of red.
At this speed, they would be dirtside in minutes.
Exhilaration tingled underneath his skin.
"Once we extract Wrex, we'll go to the Council. They'll help you."
"Yes. They have always been so very helpful before. You may be a brute, Admiral. The Council are criminals."
He remembered Tali, stuttering at the sight of him the previous day. And her kiss. Something clicked. The inertial dampeners unsettled him.
He looked back at Sedna.
"We won't see eye to eye on this. Personally I think the sanctions were too hard, but they weren't my choice. I just enforce them. Wrex is still a Council ally. They'll have to support him."
But she had closed off. He stowed any further questions about her or Wrex and turned to the mission. Beneath them, cities bloomed enormously.
"What was the situation in the air when you left?" he asked.
"Tarkan has many orbital ships and troop carriers, but few small fighter craft," Sedna replied. "We are most likely to find them around the Ziggurat, but the AA guns are active. With your stealth drive online, we will slip through the net."
"Sure hope so." We're in deep shit if we don't.
"Transports were landing on the edges of Urdnot and moving in from the east, north and south. The spaceport lies to the west. It is heavily defended."
"Pity we can't radio Wrex from the Manta. How close is he to the port?"
"The Ziggurat is several miles away. At some point he will make a break for the port, but I do not think it will be yet. Wrex will want to draw as many fighters to the Ziggurat before he leaves."
"Why? He have a death wish?"
Sedna ignored him. She turned back to the viewport. "We're approaching Urdnot, Admiral. We're close enough to see."
The altimeter dropped two thousand metres in the time it took him just to read it. They were dropping faster than he thought possible. Though the inertial dampeners gave his body no sign, Vega could see their dive was flattening out.
Ahead of them he could see an immense pattern of lights, jewels scattered across a midnight city whose boundaries vanished into haze on the left and were hemmed by a black mountain range to the right.
The Ziggurat was a serrated tooth, unlit and black against the horizon, pushing above an endless spread of buildings and shacks.
The Manta swooped lower as they reached Urdnot, moving several times as fast as anything else in the sky. In one moment they shot past gargantuan transports spewing troops onto the ground outside the city, a tide of warriors surging toward the lights.
Swathes of the city they passed over were totally dark. Others were quiet. Closer to the centre whole districts were in flames – the Manta followed the course of a ribbon of burning rubble, miles long, flowing around and between ruined buildings like lava.
There were flashes of total blackout; Vega's heart stopped each time until he realised they were shooting through plumes of hot soot.
After the War, Wrex begged, borrowed and stole to rebuild Urdnot as a krogan capital his people could be proud of and other races would respect. Vega remembered pristine, new buildings gleaming in sun. He wondered how many would be smoking ruins by daybreak.
The evidence is undeniable. The krogan have remilitarised. Right under the noses of the CDEM. How could the Council be so blind?
Beside him, Sedna sat motionless. She squeezed the hilt of her knife. Rage rose off her in waves. Vega powerfully wanted out of the cockpit.
They sank low enough for him to see individual krogan massing in open spaces and roads. He saw ragged defensive lines; advancing forces. Riots, with krogan orgiastically emptying entire clips into the sky. Running battles moved quickly up open streets. A silent vision of hell.
Chaos. Like a krogan feeding frenzy.
The Manta shed speed and altitude as the Ziggurat loomed closer, as if the craft were punching through water instead of air. Both lurched forward in their seats. Three AA guns on the lower slopes of the pyramid spat a stream of yellow sparks; aircraft pinwheeled out of the sky or exploded in place, raining shrapnel onto the ground below.
They were low to the ground now, almost close enough to skim the roofs. He gripped his shotgun. He was ready.
They had not been detected, wouldn't be. The Manta was fast and silent. They were still in range of the AA guns but would pass beyond in seconds. Then down onto the steps of the pyramid.
Vega whooped.
Then, no noise quite like it: a spray of bullets hitting the undercarriage. The hull was tough enough to withstand collisions in space; bullets would not be a problem.
But they cut out the stealth drive. It sputtered, failed.
Oh, fuck -
The last thing Vega saw was more small yellow sparks flying directly at him.
"Another coffee. Make it Irish." She remembered her manners. "Please."
Ash was tucked behind a small table at the far end of the bar. She was sick of the cramped quarters and familiar faces on the Mariana; besides, there was a good chance that Aria would revoke her landing status if she returned to the ship. The Bardo Hotel was iconic, jutting like a gleaming steel fang from the roof of the station. Inaccessible to the masses, away from the dirt and the din; here the air was clear.
There was space to think.
Her order arrived, black and steaming, and the barkeep removed her empties, hurried away. Ash's Carnifex lay within arm's reach on the table, and her Black Widow leaned against the back of the chair. Other patrons gave her a wide berth and she liked it that way. Right now, it was necessary.
She had one end of the bar to herself - the panoramic end with the wraparound glass and the famous views down over Omega, hovercars streaming past. Nothing new. Ash hunched over a datapad.
She sipped her coffee. This was her third and the first two had been strong enough to knock an elcor on its ass. The whiskey needed to take the edge off, else she would jump out of her own skin.
Damn you to hell, Aria. This isn't about me. It isn't about either of us.
There was no time to waste and yet here she was, pondering her next move like this was some parlour game.
Finding Liara just became like finding the proverbial shuttle in an asteroid field.
But there were other options. Ash narrowed them down, discounting the toothless old gangs and the Terminus's petty dictators until she was left with a single one.
She stared down into the pad like a scrying pool. Beady blue eyes glared back out of the mugshot at the top of the Council dossier. She didn't know what she didn't know but from the present vantage point, Ash figured that to be a hell of a lot.
That made her nervous.
Sulla Darkissian had a permanent residence in Maru District, an exclusive area ringed with shanties. He created a teeming wall of living beings around himself to keep Aria out, with good reason.
He was as close as she got to a rival.
Ash paged down impatiently with one digit. Darkissian spent thirty years in the Hierarchy, then resigned his commission after the War to take his chances in the Terminus. Resurfaced on Cartagena Station in 2193. Then local records listed Darkissian as the director of an eezo salvage operation on Eingana.
Darkissian earned a reputation for bravery and was proud of it, maintaining operations and a small settlement on the surface. He bought himself an officer's commission in the Terminus's new unified militia. He began to style himself Major Darkissian.
Strangely, eezo-poor outposts daring to protest about his high prices or trying to renegotiate payment terms became prey for slavers.
Ash scratched her jaw.
That's why I hate it out here. Still no rule of law, no justice, no rights. The rich get richer –
She thought of the batarian boy's bug-like eyes and the hollows between his ribs.
The League doesn't do jack shit.
She ground her teeth.
Darkissian moved his headquarters to Joab at the start of the decade, began to diversify, like the colony itself. The post-garden world was home to large human, turian and volus communities; by the time he took hold, Joab supplied more than a fifth of the League's conscripts. By this point, he held minority shareholdings in an Ilium-based defence manufacturer and a Heshtok biotech startup.
Probably more Council intelligence doesn't know about.
When Joab's representative to the League died, he was selected her replacement, moved to Omega. He spent the past several years worming his way into the station's highest circles until his influence on Omega - and power within the League – made him difficult for Aria to control, but impossible to remove.
A killer combination none of the other leaders – despots, puppets, all of them – could match.
Ash leaned back in her chair, knocked her head back against the glass with a dull clunk. Closed her eyes, exhaled slowly. A cloud of unpleasant co-incidences seemed to trail Darkissian.
How many assassins did it take, Darko? How many votes did you buy?
If she went to him for help there was no going back. The Council's relationship with Aria could be put beyond repair. Thanks to her, perhaps it already was.
She finished her coffee, whiskey glowing in her belly.
Nobody rose out of the muck as quickly as he did without being clever, lucky, ruthless or a combination of all three.
But she was out of options. Liara wouldn't live forever. She rose to her feet, settled her chit at the counter. Omega's brown, fetid air hit her as soon as she left the climate-controlled cool of the central lobby. She walked to the head of the cab rank in a trance, oblivious to the well-dressed line shuffling back to let her in.
Well, if I'm not number one on Aria's shit list already, I will be now.
Ash stared with glassy eyes as the cab sunk to the bottom of the pit. She hoped James got her message. She'd been in the DMZ not a week ago and some heavy shit looked about to kick off.
Hopefully he'd miss all of it. She hoped the asshole was okay.
She wasn't going to think about this morning – yesterday morning, now.
That wasn't an accident. Not for me. Goddamnit, James.
If he were here he would be cautioning against Darkissian in his slow, thoughtful voice.
She was let out at the perimeter of the shanty. Omega was always awake but the cab wouldn't risk the trip through this late. She got her bearings with her omni, struck out for Maru at the centre.
She pressed into a maze of deserted passages, closed on all sides, lit only by dim yellow bulbs. Her boots scuffed through refuse which seemed to twitch underfoot. Vermin scattered ahead of her. The spaces narrowed as she progressed, until the alley could barely fit three people walking side-by-side. It felt like caving. She would eventually reach open space on the other side, knew it was there, but before that she'd have to hold her breath.
And then Ash had no breath left.
Before she knew it she had yanked a door open to her left, any door, didn't matter which, and ducked inside.
Compared to the passage the space felt cavernous, but it was not. Banks of candles lined the sides. It was silent, empty, serene.
There was a neon blue cross high on the back wall.
Ash blinked.
There were more smells and bells than she was used to – more James's style, if he had one - but this was a church. An honest-to-god church. Buried in the filth of the biggest dump in the galaxy.
You have got to be shitting me.
The silence parted around her as she moved up the aisle and sat down around the middle. Maybe this was a sign. A large part of her wanted it to be. Ash pressed her forehead to the pew in front, sighed. Against her eyelids she saw James sagged where she'd found him in the nightclub last night. Remembered the confused, wanting look in his eyes when she'd slid in next to him.
Remembered he had pushed her to take Tali's data. Her stomach swooped.
She woke her omni and called up the data packet. It was a manifest of some kind. Dates in the left hand column, cargoes and volumes in the middle, customers on the end. Whole thing read like gobbledegook; it had to be written in some kind of code.
Ash lurched onto the balls of her feet and began to pace. She couldn't afford to be this damn clueless. She knew the data had something to do with Aria's export operations. Maybe she could make some kind of trade with Darkissian; dismissed the notion immediately. She began to circle the room, boots tap-tap-tapping loudly against the concrete floor.
Strange, grimy pictures on the walls began to jump out at her. An asari in a crimson dress; a batarian with a drawstring purse; a pair, standing in a boat.
No. Godddamned. Way.
She snorted; then hacked out a laugh.
"Something funny?"
Fuck. She drew and aimed her pistol in one single, smooth reflex.
A figure wearing a neat black suit, white splash at the throat, emerged from shadow. He wore some concealed weapon under his jacket but he hadn't pulled it on her.
Ash paused a second longer; lowered the gun slowly.
"Wasn't expecting company."
"Do you usually greet priests like that?"
His teeth were like needles. She realised she was staring; the batarian looked ridiculous, like a pet dressed in people clothes. She suppressed the urge to laugh again, replaced the Carnifex on her hip.
"No. I- it's late. You surprised me."
"You find the murals amusing?"
Ash was on the spot.
"Uh, they're not what I was expecting. That's all."
"So you laugh at what you don't understand."
Ash bristled but didn't rise to it.
"You always walk around your church armed?"
"Only at night. The quiet attracts delinquents. People deface the pictures." His hand twitched toward the weapon in his jacket.
Ash stepped back, forced a smile.
"No plans to passing through."
He eyed the expensive armour and the custom sniper rifle on her back. "I can see. You are not from here. But tell me, human. What was so funny?"
He wasn't going to allow her to leave without answering. Her earlier laughter already felt churlish. Ash could feel her cheeks reddening, hoped he couldn't see it. She turned back to the images. She paused a moment before she spoke but her answer wasn't improved by the wait.
"Just looks – odd. Out of place. Mary. Simon and Andrew. They weren't, well, batarian. Or asari."
"Of course. How disgusting to see four eyed savages spreading the Word."
"I've upset you," Ash replied. She held her hands open in front of her. "I don't mean any offense."
She tried to edge away. The conversation was surreal, like a bad dream.
"Remember the tactics of the missionaries on your homeworld before you come to this church and laugh at it. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of the Lord. We help the poor and sick and needy here."
"I'm sorry. Live and let live, sir." Old words poured into her mind; she tried to placate him. "I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned."
The batarian's unsettling smile spread across his face.
"Jesus saves all of us. Are you here to pray?"
"No. Just walked in off the street."
I don't pray. Not anymore.
"Well. You are not alone. Especially not on Omega."
Ash shuddered, but he did not appear to notice. Instead, he reached out and prodded the emblems on her chestplate.
"You are the Normandy Spectre. Williams. You won't find Aria down here." He looked at her. "Unless you're not looking for Aria."
She said nothing. His voice carried new concern.
"Darkissian is a benefactor of sorts for this church. He is powerful. But he is not a good man, and Aria is more dangerous. Siding against her would be unwise."
Now a damn priest is telling me what to do? Jesus. "I'm open to suggestions."
He narrowed all four of his eyes.
"Aria is a force of nature. She will only act in self interest. Compassion is unknown to her. She must gain with every move she makes. Or others must lose."
"Sounds like you know her well."
He wrung his hands together. "There are many paths to God. You are right that mine involved violence. Still does when the situation requires it." He shifted his weight between his feet, voice soft.
"Why are you here, Williams?"
She glimpsed a deeper meaning. He wasn't asking about the mission specifics.
"To try to do good. To, uh –" she scrabbled for words. Ash tried to be a good person. But she no longer knew if Liara was good. Or a friend.
"To save the life of a mother. I won't take lives needlessly. I won't put innocents in the way."
If I can help it, she added silently.
The batarian was quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor. His head cocked right, beckoned.
"Sit with me." He gestured to a seat.
"Now, do not be alarmed. I saw your data. I said - do not be alarmed. I hear confessions that would make your blood curdle. Show them to me again."
Ash hesitated. Now she had two options, but both were awful. Avoiding Darkissian meant trusting him. If the priest was under Darkissian's protection, trusting him might be tantamount to siding with the turian anyway.
So she was back with only one choice.
In reality, no choice.
She pulled up the manifest again; it flashed in front of their two faces, washing them blue. He spoke deliberately, without taking either pair of eyes off it. Without looking at Ash.
"We are almost penniless here, Williams, yet each day this church finds a way to clothe the naked and feed the poor. God always provides."
Bastard's got balls. She gave him a sideways glare, bowed her head once.
"These are eezo consignments." He pointed to the middle columns. "You knew this, I take it. Customers are here. The last column shows Aria's markup on the goods." He reached up to manipulate the view. "Very interesting."
"Come on. I haven't got all night."
The batarian became more animated with each word. "That code – yes, that's right. Aria is exporting large quantities of eezo either at cost, or at a loss, to Tuchanka. Specifically, Urdnot and Urdnot Wrex. Weapons, too. That's his designation, there."
He pointed. Entry upon entry – they were all the same. Wrex. Wrex. Wrex.
Ash was electrified. She had to stop herself from bounding out at full tilt. Aria was ignoring sanctions. Wrex was a Council ally but this couldn't be good. Valuable intel for Darkissian; but even better leverage with Aria. This was dynamite.
Will this screw James? I can't afford not to use this.
She startled slightly when the batarian put his hand on her arm. Ash tapped her omni and a bowl at the entrance rang loudly with virtual coin.
"That is generous. My thanks."
She sighed. "Well, you scratched my back. What's the most direct way back to Afterlife?"
He gave her directions, walked her briskly to the exit. He held on to her for a moment, standing in her path.
"This is a mean place but you are welcome here, Williams. There is no saint without a past. No sinner without a future. God has not forgotten you. Do not forget Him."
Ash shrugged. But her voice cracked as she opened the door.
"Thank you. Father -?"
"Anto," he replied, receding back into the shadow.
A/N: Thanks to all for continuing to read along, I do hope you're still enjoying it – and thanks for continuing to review.
My especial thanks to the amazing Hugo for the support with this chapter.
The eagle eyed will see various religious passages phrased or paraphrased, namely Romans 3:23, John 5:24, and the Confessions of Saint Augustine, as well as references to a Buddhist concept. No offense whatsoever is intended at all with any of this, please don't take any! I just wanted to explore an aspect of Ash, and Omega, that to me always seemed fascinating but could never appear in canon. Also, I am taking liberties with the events of ME: Invasion, but hopefully forgivable ones.
