Like many Terminus worlds, Lorek had been spared the brunt of the Reaper focus. It had received the equivalent of a solar "drive by" - mass driver impacts had cratered the spaceport and a single Destroyer had deployed to the planet to harass and remove space-flight capability, along with three or four troop transports under its purview. Even so, the outskirts of Jalnor were pretty much rubble, even this long after the "occupation" - the spaceport had been reconstructed, after a fashion, but resembled a frontier world rather than a bustling colony - bare scaffolding and landing pads, with surrounding buildings appearing as little more than skeletal remnants - concrete and steel exposed to the element; melted struts and dusty rubble strewn streets.
Tarpaulins still draped across buildings and open warehouse districts, laid bare as the corvette descended across the open plains of the planet. The centre of the capital was relatively untouched, the population having bunkered up - the Reapers didn't really go for artillery, preferring their ships and Destroyers to do the job. That and their wave of troops tended to flush people out without "damaging" the material.
Rogilia led the ship in a wide arc, granting a view across the "city" and the surroundings - major roads had been crumpled into rocky pathways and a few construction crews could be seen working slowly along them. On the horizon, still untouched, was the slumped silhouette of the fallen Reaper Destroyer - the planet dossier stated it had deployed a few hundred miles from the city and had been working through the outlying settlements with its troops, driving the population to the city - clearly a tactic to increase panic, drain resources and ultimately make the population easier to cow into surrender. The blast from the Citadel had put paid to the plan, of course, but it was sobering to see how close it had come. Another charnel house narrowly avoided.
Even from here, they could see the fields still strewn with indistinct shapes - armoured vehicles, hulking brute corpses. The Reaper dead, left to decay.
Maybe the Reapers had been beaten, but a lot of the wounds they'd left had turned septic it seemed.
The corvette decelerated. Teel acknowledge the clear-to-land from the tower and Rogilia spun the craft gently onto a vacant pad. Air traffic was minimal - the spaceport was on the edge of the city, but only a few pads were occupied. There was visible shuttle traffic to the centre, however - clearly a few of the ships in orbit were sending people down, but not unloading cargo. Strange, as many of those ships were freighters.
As the ship powered down Rogilia turned in her seat and grinned at Dan, "Cheery place."
"Don't I always take you guys to the best holiday destinations?"
"Beat me to the punch, boss man," growled Klin. The Krogan straightened up in the hatchway and descended to the cargo hold. Dan unbuckled himself and followed him, glancing at Rogilia, "Keep an eye on the bird. Depending what goes on, we may need a rapid extraction."
"Making me miss the fun? Or getting protective?"
"Oh aye. Dinnae want anyone nicking my ship."
Rogilia snorted and turned back to her cool-down checks. Teel sighed and stood up, following Dan down to the hold. Klin was checking his shotgun - a huge, bayoneted thing that looked more like a mining tool. Teel began suiting up, his suit slung with various grenades and mods. Dan was already geared - this was a settled world, but like most Terminus planets, it was still pretty frontier. Most people would be going armed, especially now.
Lia was still at its terminal, but turned away to regard the team.
"Is our presence required?"
"Not physically. I heard you can upload runtimes to suits, is that right?"
"Indeed."
"Pop a few into ours - help us monitor things. May be a quicker reaction time if you have eyes on rather than waiting fer me to relay it."
"Agreed. One moment."
Dan adjusted a targeting eyepiece, which popped a holographic display over his right eye. A moment later a small spherical object appeared.
"Upload successful. We will monitor."
"Crackin'. Just make sure you, uh, un-upload once we're done, aye?"
"Of course. We wouldn't wish to intrude."
Dan nodded at his crew, then punched the hatchway release - the cargo ramp lowered and they strode down into the bleak sunlight of Jalnor. A beleaguered looking Salarian was stood there with a shotgun toting Batarian. Everything about him screamed "bureaucrat". The amphibious alien sighed and offered a faint smile.
"Welcome to Jalnor. Before you are entitled to enter the city, we have some minor elements of paperwork to fill in," his voice had the weary, droning tone of someone who was reciting a script from memory for the thousandth time.
"Oh aye? We filled that out on descent. Any problems?"
"Erm, well, this is additional errata that the governor of Jalnor has instigated to ensure the integrity of the colony."
Dan looked over the Salarian's shoulder at the shuttle traffic clearly going to the city proper and then into orbit, "And them lot going direct? Same errata?"
"Private transit is subject to different rules - you are a load bearing vessel above the approved mass and have requested direct berthing at the…"
"Aye, aye. So, what does all this boil down to?"
"Excuse me?"
"This is going to be very long winded, but will result in you asking for money. Won't it."
The Salarian looked shocked, "Um. No. These are additional compliance questions - we haven't been able to update the landing VIs with clearance coding yet, so we can't automate this. And, as per the recent changes, we have to ensure the security and stability of the city."
Dan blinked, non-plussed, "Really?"
"Indeed. Are you implying I would attempt some form of 'shakedown'?"
"Well it's been my exper-"
"I will have you know that not all of us in the Terminus are cut-throat con-men and chancers."
"Well I ne-"
"And frankly, I find the aspersions being cast highly insulting."
"Uh."
"As a result, I will be issuing an additional 500 credit charge and berthing fee…"
"EXCUSE me?"
"Well, we have to make sure our economy gets back on its feet."
Dan was about to retort but bit it back. He massaged his temple and sighed, "Right. Apologies. Dinnae mean to imply or cast… well, ask away then. I imagine you get it a fair bit. Can we discuss the fee?"
The Salarian relaxed. He looked mollified for the moment, "Well, as this is a first offence... yes. Now, I have a number of questions to run through for our records."
"Fire away."
"Are you, or have you ever been a member of the following organisations: Cerberus; the Salarian STG; The SPECTRES; or any other black operations and hostile espionage group or terrorist affiliation?"
Dan suppressed a grin. "No."
"Oh-kay. Are you, or have you ever been, affiliated with the Reapers, indoctrinated, or intentionally sought to bring about galactic genocide."
"No…. I don't th-"
"Great. Are you, have you ever been or do you own and AI?"
Dan's eye twitched, "Um. No - I can categorically say no to all of that."
The Salarian eyeballed him, "Really? Depending on your definition of life, then all intelligence is artificial."
Dan crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, cocking his head, "Oh aye?"
"Well, I don't believe so, but we have to consider the possibility. Last question."
"Crack on."
"Are you carrying any vegetable or animal material of foreign origin? Not including Krogan… oh!"
Dan's arm shot out to his left, where it slapped against Klin's chest. He fixed the Salarian with a cool smile, "Nay lad. We're good. Can we go now?"
"Erm… yes. Yes. Quite done now. Come Chanril."
"One mo'. Bit curious. Has anyone ever said yes to those?"
The Salarian blinked then nodded, "Oh yes. We managed to avert an invasion..." Dan arched an eyebrow in surprise, "...of a particularly nasty invasive wheat species."
"I'll let you crack on sunshine. Thank's for the welcome. Run along."
The Salarian and the batarian exchanged glances, then wisely retreated. Klin untensed, "Damn bigots. We save everyone's asses again and they still think it's funny to stick that pyjack drip in."
Teel nudged him in the ribs, "C'mon - you have to admit Krogan are a hard to remove problem. You fight back…"
Klin rumbled then grinned, "Damn right."
"When you two are quite done…. Let's get a move on."
"What was all that about anyway?"
Dan shrugged, "A way of dealing with things without actually dealing with them."
"Politics?"
"Aye. What do you do after a massive disaster? Make motions to show you're doing something about it. Even if it's as much use as a used heat sink."
The trio headed for the access lift - it dropped them into a sparse terminal, still raised off of the ground, with a bleak looking skycar station - deserted with cheap plastic waiting chairs and a poorly stocked vending machine nearby. A shimmering terminal allowed them to key an auto-taxi up, a battered older model, all boxy and grey. Clearly the people of Lorek were of the make do and mend mentality.
The hovering van rumbled across wrecked and ruined streets, over sprawling tent groups and shanty town areas - as they closed towards the suburbs it was clear that the city was still quite populous - just rebuilding slowly. Yet out here, even in the middle of the Terminus, progress was clearly slow - materials, listless people. There was clearly a sluggish momentum to rebuild.
The vehicle arced over a few warehouses, these a bit more intact and clean, as they closed towards the taller buildings of the colony. They descended to another rank in a commercial district - though that was being generous. Stacked prefabs rose around the taxi-rank, with plastic sheeting flapping in the desultory breeze. A few people lingered in the streets, flitting in and out of shops or into the prefab apartment blocks. Many buildings appeared shuttered or graffitied over. At one end of the narrow street stood a blocky building; a warehouse repurposed into some sort of club; neon signage flickered above a set of double doors. It looked closed.
Klin adjusted his stance, looking up at the buildings around them. A few alleyways leading to various processors and dead ends sat between the blocks. A real warren, even on the edges.
"Lots of high points. And we're meeting in there?"
Dan nodded slowly. The building was slap in the centre of the grid point that'd been on the frequency. Now, getting in would be tricky - no other info other than a location. The former lieutenant glanced at Teel, "Anything on scans?"
"Nope. No one above us that I can tell either. If this is an ambush it's not happening yet."
Dan chewed his lip for a moment then shrugged, "Nothin' ventured. Let's go knock on the door. Lia, you seeing anything?"
"Please approach the location - I may be able to pick up passive transmissions."
The warehouse was clearly a club - signage, coupled with the posters plastered along its side and the notice on the door were dead giveaways, "Reminds me of a place I used to go in Glasgow…" murmured Dan.
"Any good?"
"Shite. But it's where I learned I wanted to go Alliance."
"Oh?" Teel looked quizzically at his boss.
"Aye. Got sick of getting my arse handed to me in fights," His companions chuckled and regarded the building, "So, any ideas guys?"
"Place like this - no one goes in the front door on off hours. Service entrance?" grunted Klin
"Good call. But if this is a secret criminal meeting, won't it happen during club hours?"
"What, with all those pesky witnesses and opportunities for people to sneak in amongst a crowd? You watch too much 'net, Teel." Dan looked along the building and saw a side road leading off. The club formed the top of a "T" for the street they were on and the side road way little more than an alley. The trio approached and found a small loading area. A pair of Turians were lounging on the ramp, smoking.
"Gotcha," muttered Dan and strode into the alley. A blip on his HUD showed Lia scrawling text - no audio.
"Scrambler present - transmissions likely being monitored - not optimised for Geth - do not wide band transmit from here."
So it was bugged. They'd have to be careful. He nodded to the two guards - they weren't bartenders, or chefs, not with those side arms. And the way they stiffened up - well, most mercs were tough, but these guys had that Turian bearing that was only sharpened by repeat actions. One of the pair eyed him up.
"Yeah?"
Dan spread his arms, "Tried the front door, but you lads ain't serving it seems. Thought I'd see if I could check out the bar."
"Come back later. Suit you better."
Dan grinned and thumbed at his companions, "Yeah, my boys and I want something now. Heard there was a good chance of finding that hear."
The Turians looked at each other, then the vocal one nodded slowly, "Oh yeah? And where'd you hear that."
Dan continued smiling, thinking. Then he raised his omni tool, slowly, and brought up the frequency the message had been hidden under. The code blipped out its various tones. He allowed it to repeat a couple of times, then closed the tool, "That good enough?"
The Turian rolled his shoulders and nodded, "Alright. What you got to offer though?"
"A ship. Small enough to get around quickly. Large enough to haul gear. If you need it. And the pay's right."
The pair shared another glance then stood aside, "Main floor. You'll find her holding court there. Initial briefing and assignments in twenty minutes. No trouble."
Dan nodded, but Teel stepped forwards, "You aren't going to ask for our guns?"
The Turian gave him an odd look, and adjusted his stance ever so slightly, "Why would I? You going to try having a shoot-out in there? Strange question friend."
Dan cursed internally - don't look a gift horse. He thought quickly, then growled, turned and grasped Teel round the throat. The quarian gave him a shocked look and tried to search Dan's face for some indicator.
"Listen suit rat, I told you to keep it schtum, alright? You wanted creds for back home, I took you on. That doesn't mean you get to chat in the back. Now, you're new, so I'll go easy. This time. But make me look like an eejit in front of people again you can try to scrabble passage off the next fuckin' asteroid I pass. Got that?"
The Turians chuckled and relaxed again. Dan let go and Teel coughed and gagged. Dan managed to maintain his sneer and shook his head, "Hire a tech expert and they think they're equals. Sorry 'bout that gents. I can leave him out here if it's an issue."
The Turian shook his head, "Nah, rookies, right?"
"Ya got that right. Pain in the arse, they make you look like an idiot and it's your problem right?"
The other Turian flexed his mandibles, "At least you're taking responsibility. Seen too many merc crews let that stuff slide."
Dan nodded and gestured for the pair to follow. The ramp led to a small storage room and then into a dingy corridor. They walked past an empty office, a locker room and a set of stairs leading to what looked like the storage basement. Dan ignored these and headed towards another door; noise and the muffled sound of chatter radiated from beyond. Teel coughed again and Dan glanced back, before keying a short burst message over his hud.
Sorry - need 2 give right vibe. Explain l8r.
The reply was appreciably terse: Sure
Sharrocks pushed open the door and they found themselves in the main room of the club - the lights were up on full, revealing the layout in sharper relief than it deserved - side couches, the marble-topped bar, the main dance floor. It was juxtaposed by the milling group of armed figures dotted around the room. A few glanced over at them, but most continued their hushed conversations. It was a spread of representatives - several Turians, a few humans and Salarians. There were even a pair of Volus and an Elcor present.
Another turian broke away from a group and approached them. He nodded and checked a datapad, "Hi there. Name please and ship registry."
"Daniel Sharrocks… ship registered as L-09877 - Kestrel."
"Thanks. Oh, new team eh? Well, we need a few - after the brief I'll give you the standard 3rd party contract we always agree, once we've done with screening. Boss will be presenting the brief in a few minutes."
Dan nodded and gestured for his team to follow. They headed for the bar, where Dan leaned back to get a good view of the room. Teel settled next to him and raised an eyebrow. Sharrocks leaned across.
"Sorry mucka, but we need to be a bit careful asking questions. Had to get us past. You can kick me later."
The quarian settled a bit and nodded, "Hmph, fine. Just some warning helps."
Klin grinned and rumbled, "Yeah, but then you don't get that authentic 'oh crap' feeling!"
Dan shook his head and regarded their mixed company - a motley collection. Clearly several commercial crews as well as mercs. That'd explain the less-than-shady atmosphere. This was under the counter but it was running like a port-side assignment. He checked his hud and keyed his omni-tool. They'd clearly be doing a background check on the details he'd given. But there wasn't much they'd find - and most could likely be explained away. He glanced at the data Lia was streaming to him - encoded.
They are still monitoring main channels. I am piggy-backing on your GPS signal to hide. It appears they are doing standard checks on everyone here. I have flash-copied everyone's provided data for review later.
Good - our data?
ONI - the Vakarians - have done very little, but enough to minimise suspicion. Edits as requested are in place and can be reverted if required. Geth mandated so history of alteration not traceable without in-depth encryption tracking. Nothing to tie you to any law enforcement.
He'd learnt from Kasumi, over a few beers and several patrols, about deception. The con. She wasn't just a thief in the "breaking and entering" mindset - half of it was casing a joint, understanding the mark, whilst revealing as little about yourself. Set up a false identity and you left so many breadcrumbs and gaps - you either tried to cover every eventuality so you ended up forgetting the lies; or you didn't do enough and had holes that practically pulled curious types to them.
No, best to stick with the truth and fudge the edges; or stay out of sight. Here they were visible - now way they could've eaves dropped. They were walking into the lion's den but he knew from his time in reconnaissance that you only learned so much from an Observation Point.
One of the volus sidled over in that rocking waddle they all did. The rotund alien regarded him for a moment and spoke in that heaving-gasping voice the creatures had, "You kshh don't look like a freighter captain kshh."
Teel looked away, clearly biting back a retort. Klin leaned down and glared at the volus, "And you don't look like a merc."
"Because, kshh I have class."
Dan chuckled, "Or charm. What's your name mucka?" He pushed his natural Scottish accent a little more than necessary, laying it on thick.
"Pitne For. Here from Illium. You?"
"Sharrocks. From the Traverse."
"You're a way out."
"You too," Dan grinned and gestured for his colleagues to move away a little. Teel and Klin shuffled away a short distance, "So, what's the deal?"
"Oh? Blundered in a bit have we?"
Dan shrugged, "Chasing escrow, cheap runs, the odd colony clearance. A job's a job. Find a nice under the counter advert. Piques me interest, know what I mean? You're clearly familiar here."
"Well, I do a lot of business, kshh with these gentlemen. I am kshh a figure hereabouts."
"But you're from Illium."
"I kshh get around."
"I'm sure. So, am I wasting my time here?"
"What, kshh were you hoping for?"
"A job."
"You'll find it kshh out. But word to the wise. Kshh Just do what you're told, you'll get paid. Don't ask kshh questions."
"I limit my curiosity to the price o' the job, lad."
"I've kshh worked with these gentlemen a while. They're kshh reliable. Professional. kshh . They pay on time."
"So I can expect haulage. Hm. Only got a corvette. Seems a waste o' time."
"Oh kshh I wouldn't say that. Stick around for the briefing. They don't run these sort of meets kshh often. Should be an interesting job."
Dan nodded slowly, his face slipping into a musing expression, "Al-right. Will see."
There was some movement from across the room, near the access to the VIP area. A pair of asari emerged, in full commando gear. Their weapons were holstered, but they radiated an air of… hostility. As they stepped into the room Dan could see their eyes sweeping for threats - their bodies seemed tensed, as if expecting treachery at any moment.
A third person came, or rather floated, into view. Another asair, but this one in a "wheelchair" - which was striking. And yet something in Dan's animal brain shrieked that this one was probably even more lethal. Her relaxed expression sold that image - her whole attitude seemed to say "I have all the cards in this room, but none of you even knew you were playing."
It was the way all the other people in the room stiffened and went quiet; how the Turians and the Krogan mercs adjusted themselves. He had seen something similar at the Alliance Officer Academy when he was commissioning - watching how all the cocky, boastful recruits had near cowered as a Sergeant major had casually walked onto the parade square, pace stick clicking. The bearing and reaction were the same.
"Hello boys and girls. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Some of you know me. For those who don't, I'm Sharanae T'srika of Manae's Fist. And I have a job offer for all of you."
