Chapter 9: The Warmonger's Desires
"My friend was dragged out to a public court martial. It was simple military efficiency at work. No banners, no bibles, no swearing under some 'god'. It was just you, the judge, and the prejudices in that room. Heh, no wonder my friend was screwed, he was fighting against thousands of years of military tradition.
"'Your name?' The judge called out. My friend responded, 'Timothy Saxon, sir.' The judge looked confused at this moment. The Timothy Saxon? The one who was awarded thousands of metals? The one whose career was set in stone from the moment he first held a gun? He was to be put on trial? I found the expression of the judge and jury humorous. Indeed judging someone of his stature had that effect on people.
"But that was only a brief reprieve from the rest of the trial. My friend's superiors drilled protocol, the military officials drilled their gaze, and all these hings drilled at my heart. How could someone who protected a young boy be persecuted so? So he killed a few men, yes that was out of line but they were part of gangs. They were murderers and rapists. They embodied the very purpose of our plight in the city. So why did the military officials criticize my friend? It was only after his conviction to solitary confinement and the stripping of his titles that he bestowed his knowledge upon me. It was only a sentence as he passed me by, but the power of those words made me shiver in fear.
"He looked to me with those dark eyes and said, 'I only beat them to the punch; they are angry I did a better job of killing than they did.' Only now do I realize how right he was."
Another week passed and yet I had not seen Raven for the entirety of it. Geisha said he was cooped up in his office for all those days, contemplating the recent betrayal by his second in command. To me 'betrayal' was a harsh word. No doubt Finnegan went over the line with his treatment of the asari, but it did not warrant this much attention. Raven seemed to over dramatize it. That is only my opinion though, as this whole account truly is.
Though one could say the brief reprieve from Raven granted me a smoother entry into the lifestyle of the gang. It shocked me how cooperative everyone was. Each man and woman played their part and I was at first horrified by the small children wandering the halls. Thionan, or should I say 'Chameleon', only laughed at my confusion. "Would it shock you if I told you that Raven takes in orphans as well?" Orphans? The thought did not bring bile, only a pang of regret. Who was this man who dared to be so bold as to decide the fate of the young? He was someone confident, thoughtful, and indeed slightly arrogant. The idea made me smile though; it was a nice change from the Council's way of approaching things.
These approaches were evident as I met the core officials of the task force. Chameleon, no Thionan, explained how each of them had a specific role to play. He was the infiltrator, the one to go into enemy camps and steal information. Finnegan controlled the militia, Prince controlled the tech, Zealot controlled the weapons, Siphon was the spy, and Geisha doubled as the nurse and 'entertainer'. The thought made me sick when I found out.
"Probably 'entertaining' some lonely soldier," was what Zealot said around her food when the question of Geisha came up. I was with a group of the core officers in the mess hall. Thionan was to my left (the very person who brought me here because he thought it was a good idea to 'mingle') and the cautious quarian Prince was to my right. Across from me sat Zealot who was eating her meal with a curious fascination I could not, and still, cannot place to this day. I squirmed in my chair. Geisha a whore? Impossible. The siren who haunts my dreams could not be the one who slept with the monstrous beings around me. And yet deep down I knew she did.
Prince could see the pain beneath my furrowed gaze and he spoke on it. "It is fine Shade," he spoke with his thick accent, "I'm sure she thinks less of it than you do."
"That's exactly my point," said Zealot as her mandibles clicked with the smack of her lips. Damn Thionan sure knows how to pick em'. "She's well acquainted with her title. By Palavan, she probably sung to you the first time you got here!" I felt a pang of betrayal course through my heart. Zealot could see this. "Ah, so I see you've fallen for her song. Crafty bitch she is." Her grasping hand rose to her lips and a bite of amino spiced venison was chewed off by her teeth. "There's a reason we call her Geisha around here. Heh, Raven does have a sense of humour sometimes, especially since she sees him the most." Another bite was torn off as I digested these thoughts. What did it matter that she was used property? It doesn't matter where my dick goes, does it? The pains continued as I realize that I indeed did care about Geisha's habits. I'm such a damn softy, I thought around a bite of my own meal.
Thionan, who had surprisingly not spoken much so far decided to interject. "I've heard some pretty fucked up shit about what Raven does to her actually." I raised my brow. "No, nothing too extreme like good ol' Finnegan and the asari." A chuckle came from Thioanan's lips. "I heard he dresses her up in some Alliance uniforms and puts a black wig on her." He leaned back in his chair as he continued. "I mean, he could easily order her to cut her hair short and dye it black, but he doesn't. Mostly because all the males are so damn crazy about that hair of hers." There was a chuckle from Thionan's lips and a pain in my heart. I was one of those males. It made me sick. After a slight pause he shrugged. "I dunno, it's just pretty fucked for my taste."
Zealot, who had just finished her meal, interjected. "Whatever you may think about the whole matter he's still our commanding officer. I'll follow him to the end, whatever his weird ass fetishes are." With that she hammered her hands on the table and got up. A calm gait expressed her demeanor as she walked through the hall before slamming the entrance doors as she walked out. Everyone who was watching her quickly averted their eyes when the door slammed. They probably did not want to be caught staring, I for sure didn't.
Prince gave a sigh. "She always has to make a show out of everything, doesn't she?" Thionan only shrugged his usual reply to most comments. Deep in his eyes however I did not see such a vibe. There was tension, sexual or not I could not deduce by the way he stared at her. It was an interesting observation to say the least. Around the room I glanced and spied no one of importance. Well, to be honest I did see Siphon in the corner. He was meditating again. Thionan mentioned how he believed in some religious sect, that the one true god would come down from above and be incarnated into a physical form. This form would... blah blah blah. Caring about such things would only bring about my opinion. Doing so would cause debates and I hated those. I guess it was because I often lost in them.
We talked for a bit longer about customs and certain rights. Prince was a shy sort of fellow yet gave off a very 'know-it-all' demeanor. The way he would fire his opinion in broad terms then shrink back into his seat gave me the impression of a volus, not a quarian. Then again 'Mr. Nefna' wasn't really all that volus. No, he was more 'asshole' than anything else. If, of course, assholes are a species.
A sound broke my thoughts as I turned to the asari standing at the entrance doors. The doors were pulsating with the blue ebb of the biotic power and with a nod of her head the doors swung closed. Her eyes glanced across the room, not hatefully, but calculatingly. She needed no words for her actions; she justified them pretty damn well.
Beside me Thionan chuckled. "I guess I was wrong about Zealot liking to make a show." I turned to him. "I think Biasheta's the real diva here." Biasheta? I had not heard the name before and I commented on it through hushed tones.
Prince answered my question. "It means 'guardian' in the old asari tongue. The language may be dead but she uses it quite effectively." I gave a questioning look and he gave a chuckle. "Oh, did I not mention she barely speaks the common tongue?" Great, I thought to myself, a wise cracking turian beside me and a wisecracking quarian. I'm going to kill one of them by the end of this, aren't I? I shook my head at my thoughts. Damn I'm dark.
I noticed the ebb between her fingers, dancing about as he glared at the people in the room. I recognized her face and I realized that she was the biotic on the Omega capture. Shit she's one serious killer. Lucky for me she found her way to our table and made a motion at us to follow her. Thionan gave a smirk. "You back from your mission already Biasheta? Damn, I thought you out of everyone would be more thorou—" His sentence was cut short as he threw his hands to his throat and started to splutter. The faint blue of power twirled around his neck.
She looked to him bluntly and motioned at us again. I looked to Prince for answers, but he seemed too freaked out to comply. Shit why do I always find myself in these situations?
I managed a weak, "We will come," and she seemed to accept that. Prince uttered the same, to which she turned to the turian in her biotic grasp. He could only nod softly. In an instant he was thrown to the ground, choking and coughing. The asari did not show emotion, she did not even acknowledge the being at her feet.
A finger jabbed the air as it curled towards its perpetrator. Biasheta wanted us to come with her and from what I had seen I did not dare refuse that proposition. We knew well enough not to argue with her and rose from our seats. Walking ahead Biasheta gave us a chance to raise our fallen comrade from the floor.
After a few seconds of squirming in our attempt to help Thionan regain his breath, he tried to speak. He failed of course, he only coughed a little while longer and we waited for him again. At last he seemed to be steady. The first thing he said was not his usual snarky comment however. In fact, there was a deep underlying regret for the words that seemed to flow from his lips. "I fucking hate asari." I looked from him to the asari who had just left the hall, the doors still swinging to and fro from her powers.
For once I did not argue his point.
The craft was old and worn. It looked like an old turian cruiser. I did not make this deduction however, it was the quarian Prince. He scoffed at the design, calling it an artifact that likely belonged in a museum. To be honest I thought it was at most three years old. Prince however, saw otherwise. The exterior did not show for the interior however as once we entered the entrance hatch Prince exclaimed, "At last I return to my technological roots!" I will admit the technology was impressive. New equipment fresh off the markets were plastered across walls. But with Biasheta's quick pace we found ourselves soon on the main deck. Prince whispered to me that the ship seemed to be entirely one deck. To that I 'politely' replied with: "Shut up."
The asari, in the black garb of our gang, motioned for us to take a seat and that we did. The seats were leather, black in colouring with a single stripe down the middle of each. The strip was purple, matching our uniforms perfectly. I snickered, Raven and his aesthetic eye never ceased to impress me. In the wings were harnesses of sorts, obviously to keep us implanted in our seats. I sat down and wrapped the harness around my shoulders. Thionan was about to object but Biasheta gave him a glare to which his hands went up and he sat down wordlessly.
Around us there were at least a dozen more members. Some were asari, human, hell I even think I spotted a krogan. I made a mental note to talk to Thionan about that. However, I did not however see Finnegan. Out of the personnel I recognized I spied Siphon and Zealot. They sat beside each other across from us. He was meditating once again and she was meditating on which weapon she would use. In one hand held a pretty fancy assault rifle, in the other a shotgun. Thionan stifled a remark in my ear, which made me groan in response. Thionan and his humour; inseparable as a krogan and its insults.
As my eyes darted around the room I spied someone I remembered. It was Yeswayla, an operative from the Infinity Unit. I was shocked. Hurt could be another word, possibly horrified. Yeswayla was another human I knew. She was never really a good friend of mine, just another person to share the damnation for what we did. She never really told us about her past. She said something about stealing a priceless work of art, though she never called it 'stealing'. In fact, she never did call anything as it was. Deflecting questions with ambiguous answers is a tricky game and she played it the best. Her suit was different though. It had a hood that (for now) was down revealing her black hair tied in a bun. Red lipstick smothered across her lips and her eyes of oriental decent darting around the room spoke volumes of where she came from. Back then I had the opinion that people were easy to read. Heh, I was a confident son of a bitch.
She turned her gaze to me. This time I did not avert my eyes and gave her a nod and a smile. She replied with a quick wave before the roar of the engine deafened us. We had taken off and it seemed the gravity dampeners on the ship were not as advanced as they appeared. I heard Prince making a comment on that but his voice was cut short as I was flung back into my seat. Thank god we had those harnesses strapping us in.
The roar soon dampened to a soft rumble as the voice of the pilot rang through the air. "We have left atmosphere and will arrive the mass relay next. ETA is an hour." The com gave a hiss as the transmission ended and with it came silence.
We were quiet for a bit. The sound of the engines reverberated around us as we awaited our mission. Prince probably would have been contemplating the structure of the ship; where we were in correspondence with the engines, cockpit, main hall, et cetera. Thionan was probably was eying Zealot, taking in her 'turian charms' as he would say. Zealot on the other hand would be prepping her guns for battle, even if there wasn't going to be one, all while Siphon would be praying to a god for strength. I bet Yeswayla was looking at me, thinking how wonderful it was to see another human from the Infinity Unit. And what was I doing? I was thinking about Geisha and about how truly lost I was from the man I use to be.
My eyes focused at the sound of Siphon moving. He took of his harness and braced himself against the wall as he rose from his seat and proceeded to enter the middle of the room. He turned about on his heels so that he had a full glance at each of us on the main deck. Once that was complete he faced the entrance and pulled out a small device, about the size of his palm. He clasped it tightly and threw it forward. Once it made contact with the ground a blue light burst forth from it and a display flicked before us, draping us in its aqua light. It was a planet.
"Palaven," he began with his smooth voice, "the birthplace of the turian people." The statement finished with a pause. Here people turned to the turians in the group, a natural response of course. "We have been asked by Raven to talk to a contact on this planet." The image decreased its scope and focused on a singular part of the planet. It was a city, I'd be damned if I knew what it was called. "In Gajek, a large city off the peninsula of Dijil, our contact resides. He is a krogan named Ranlof Gern who has a large military connection to the krogan chancellor and the krogan government." The diagram turned to an image of the said krogan. The features were definitely of krogan decent, yet the bone ridge at the back of the neck seemed slightly higher. To be honest he looked much larger than most krogan. I gulped. "Raven has been in contact with the individual for some time and only now has he requested a visit." There was a slight pause. "Our mission, lead by Biasheta, is to retain diplomatic support from him. If we do, the Vipers will have a full krogan battalion joining us, which will come in handy in Raven's future endeavors." There was the snap of an ammo clip entering a weapon. All eyes turned to Zealot who was gripping her gun with startling ferocity. She had chosen the shotgun. "There will be no aggression by our party," stated Siphon as he stared into Zealot's eyes.
"If it comes to it?" she replied.
Siphon's earpiece started to buzz. Without drawing his gaze from the female turian he raised a finger to the device. "Yes," he started. "Yes I understand." His finger left his ear. "There will be no conflict." His words were like ice. Thick and cold. Zealot did not let go of her weapon and a grin appeared on her face.
"I like it better when the orders are ambiguous."
"These aren't."
Her grin widened. "Raven's are."
"Biasheta's aren't." There was a blunt edge to his voice that Zealot found curious. So did I, in fact. She sat back and laid the weapon on her lap. "You will respect her command," his gaze turned to me. "That includes all of you." The comment in theory might not have been directed to me, but his gaze was. I could not breathe until he turned away from me. Who knew the pious ones were the most dangerous?
He returned to his seat and with that, small chattering began. Thionan turned to me and chuckled. "Damn I love a good woman who can stand up for what she loves." His chuckle continued, mine did not start. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
"Biasheta my friend! Siphon as well, it is good to see you both after such a long time!" The booming voice of the krogan was offset by the sirens of Palaven. The metallic sheen of the city cascaded around us as we stood in an alleyway at the floor of the city. To the right of us was an armoury. To our left there was a shooting gallery. Behind us was the bustling street filled with hungry patrons. Before us however was a club. "The Waning Shot", I guess it's true about what they say on Palaven, I thought with a grin. Everything is about the military. The krogan wore blood red armour with black stripes running throughout. It was obviously the colour of his clan, Ranlof, but to me those stripes looked like the jaws of a shark. He raised his hand to his brow and looked through our unit. Great, a theatrical krogan, I sighed. Just what the doctor ordered. "I do not see my good friend Raven however." A wide grin appeared on his leathery face. "I do hope he is feeling well. There is a virus going around." A rat scurried across the metallic street but was shot before it could escape by the long rifle in Gern's hand.
"He cannot make it today, Gern," spoke Siphon courteously. "Biasheta and I will take his place in this transaction and meeting."
The krogan licked his lips. "A pity," he spoke deeply, "I do enjoy his jokes. Come." The order was monosyllabic, which asked for obedience, not discussion. Biasheta seemed bemused by the whole affair but complied. She nodded for us to follow and we did. Siphon took the rear of our party while the two guards beside the entrance of the club followed him in. I noticed Siphon pull a handgun beneath the cuff of his long black trench coat but I thought nothing of it, nor did I think much of the holy symbol on its side.
"Excuse the mess, my patrons are not always the most... gracious of peoples." No shit, I thought as we entered the club. There were fights littered about the area. Asari danced about as men broke each others necks at their feet. Red lighting made it difficult to distinguish if the blood on the floor was real or just spilled drink. I'd take the former, personally. No one in the club, not even the guards who were by the walls cared to show this same disposition, which was astonishing to say the least.
Gern walked about with his rifle dragging on the floor behind him. He had a swagger to his step as he swayed back and forth drunkenly. At last he led us to the center of the club, the dance floor that burned deep purples and embers into my corneas. He turned on his heels smoothly as the tip of his rifle was raised to the sky. With an ear-splitting crack of his gun the room drifted into silence. Gern had his right hand planted on his hip and a boyish grin fixed on his face. "You bastards," he started with a grin, "you fucking bastards!" It started softly but laughter soon filled the halls of the club. I spied a human with an asari between his legs who started laughing uncontrollably, obviously causing discomfort for the blue female.
The laughter continued until Gern's stopped. His eyes soon became hungry and he wiped his finger along the floor to taste the liquid on the ground. Once it was in his mouth he cringed and gave another jolt of laughter which the crowd soon became enthralled in. "Fighting?" he questioned with a grin. "Fighting is what makes us truly alive. It burns us. Drives us. Makes us feel wanted." He eyed the asari with his dark eyes. "Murder is but a wall that we must pass to become truly enlightened. Once we have passed through, only then do we become sentient." He turned back to our unit before him. His smile grew wider, a feat I did not know he could accomplish. "I heard in the human bible the first murder was committed by a brother. In the krogan, it was committed by the male to his mate." With a large, plump finger he motioned his men to throw over an asari to him which he grappled in his arm once she was close enough. She reeled at the stench from his mouth but he cared not for her tastes. The rifle twirled in his hand until at last in found a target. With another crack the asari fell dead on the ground. Blood staining the floor red, even though hers was not of that colour.
"Murder is my pleasure friends, don't you ever forget that!" The patrons started to disperse about as Gern snapped his fingers for his men to bring him a chair. They grew alert at his command like stone guards at a castle gate. It was a lavish velvet chair with gold embroidery around the edges. The cost of such an item would be high yet Gern sat on it like it was a common stool. His fingers snapped again and the guards returned to their positions and became 'stone' once more.
Lights flickered to a more luminous yellow as the beat of the club turned to a more smooth tone. The murderers who greeted us started to bicker over the women of the club, ripping them from their pedestals and betting on them with their coin purses. The trading of criminals had begun and those who were lucky were already dancing with their partners, grinding them to walls and licking their features. It was sick.
Siphon, who clearly thought the same about this as I did, pursed his lips tightly into a line and spoke. "We did not come here for a show, Gern."
"No," started the krogan as a bottle of wine was brought to him, "you came here for our deal, didn't you?" A nod from the drell as Gern clasped the bottle and started to pour the crimson liquid into a glass. He swirled the liquid elegantly and pressed it to his lips with a grin, never taking his eyes off Siphon. Did I mention how much I hated theatrical krogans?
Biasheta turned to Siphon. "Ni disek garahst ja thruk," she spoke in her tongue. This was obviously the dead asari dialect Prince had been babbling about when we had made our way to the ship.
Siphon, without even turning his head, replied, "Barq. Neidak-Yalec tynork sart dipark Biasheta." She grunted at the response and turned her head to face the krogan once more. I was behind her so I could not see her expression, but I bet she was glaring.
Gern raised a brow at this and started to chuckle a bit. "Come now Biasheta," he said with a wave of his arm, "you can speak in the common tongue." She did not move a muscle and I could see the blue of her powers start to birth at the tips of her fingers. Gern did not see this and continued his prodding. "I know you think our language is disgraceful but hasn't Raven taught you any manners?" Her powers started to swirl in greater ferocity and the krogan now spied her potential to harm him. He raised he glass into the air and the guards around the room raised their guns at us. In response, we raised ours. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
My gun was facing a krogan guard who had a human stripper backed on the wall behind him. If it came to a gunfight my shot would definitely not miss. With the lick of my lips I turned my eyes to the left and saw Zealot with her gun raised. She was breathing heavy and her eyes were full of fire. I turned to my mark. Some Viper I was, I didn't even get enjoyment from this.
After a few moments I heard clapping. I turned my head towards it and saw Gern standing up and clapping his hands while laughing. His glass was still in his right hand yet his gun had left his other. It was then that I also noticed Siphon gripping Biasheta's hand, preventing her from sending a biotic discharge. Interesting, I thought.
"Raven won't allow a fight now I guess? Is that it?" asked the krogan as he waltzed his way to our commanding officers. He grunted in Siphon's face. Even I could smell the stench of rotting meat from where I was. I had no idea how the drell stood it. "Yes, good ol' Raven. That magnificent bastard." He took another sip of his drink and swallowed it instantly. He gave a full smile and made his way back to his seat. With that, his guards started to lower their weapons as we did ours. I heard Zealot swear beside me which made me want to slap her across the head. Did she want us all killed or what?
"Speak your proposition," spat the krogan, it seemed to me he was bored with all the excitement. Damn, if Siphon gives the order I will enjoy trying to put a bullet through his head. I was calculating how fast I would have to bring up my gun to kill him before he brought up his shield when the voice of the drell commander broke my thoughts.
"My god, Raven," there was slight snickering in the club as the lights turned from their vibrant yellow to a moody blue. Siphon paused as the change occurred and continued like nothing had ever happened, "requests that you honour his agreement about the full battalion of krogan troops that were to be issued to him..."
"Oh that thing," waved off the krogan as an asari was asked to pour into his empty glass once more. "I know of that agreement, it was all the poor human ever talked about." He finished his glass once more in one gulp and held it outstretched for more contents to be poured.
Siphon's stance became more relaxed. "Then you will honour your half of the bargain and give us the unit—"
"As I recall," interrupted the krogan with a smile, "you offered me three gallons of red stand for the battalion."
The drell's hands left his side and clasped each other at the front. "We did, yes. Is there a problem with the drugs—"
"No, no they are fine," spoke Gern after he interrupted Siphon again with a loud belch. "In fact, they are of marvellous quality, which is why I do not need them anymore."
The drell's stance became tense once more. "What do you mean?" he spat at the krogan.
Glass smashed in the hand of Gern but it was not anger that caused it. With another snap of his fingers, the asari drew back and brought him a case. It was a wooden box with a copper hatch. With her blue finger tips she drew the lid back and produced a large cigar. The krogan grabbed it and firmly planted it in his lips. The asari lit the tobacco and a puff of smoke flowed out from his mouth. "I mean that we no longer have any use for it," he said around the cigar. He took it from his mouth and tapped the end with a finger. "Red sand has dropped in value, the price we paid does not equal what we were given—"
"Now hold on a second—"
"I am speaking!" roared the krogan. All the music in the club stopped and the dancing asari stood still in fear. Their legs were quaking in worry. "The payment is now insufficient. You understand me, drell?" His friendly tone was lost and what remained was a cold exterior. Smoke billowed from the end of his cigar. It must have cost him a fortune to find one of those, I thought. Nowadays people use nicotine patches.
Siphon took a deep breath in, holding back his anger. "What do you propose then?"
A smile rose on the krogan's lips. He put the cigar back into his mouth. "I want Raven to help me fight a war." It was a purposeful pause that Gern created, intended for a 'dramatic effect.' "You have heard of Urdnot Wrex?" Siphon nodded. Biasheta growled. "He took control of the clans after the Reaper Wars. He wanted to return the krogan to what they once were: a proud species, one of culture and social wealth." He spat out these words as if they disgusted him. "He is not a krogan in my opinion. He is a weakling and a pathetic fool!" The guards at the walls started to shout out profanities to which Gern let go for a while until he held his hand up and silence returned. "Krogan were meant to fight, to conquer the stars. The genophage was a tool to keep us pinned down and now that it is gone we should go and take our rightful place as conquerors of the stars!"
Siphon looked at the krogan around him the spoke, "How does this affect us?"
"I want Raven to promise me his support. He will be serving Urdnot Wreav, the bloodbrother of Urdnot Wrex and the rightful leader of the krogan clans!" Another cheer rose up around us as I felt myself grappling to my gun for safety. By Biasheta's heaving I knew this would not end well.
"You're planning an insurrection," growled Siphon.
"I'm ending an interregnum. An interregnum that has hindered our people and made us equal to those council slobs!"
The cheering continued but was overpowered by Siphon's booming voice. "If we refuse?"
Gern stood up and walked over to Siphon. He was obviously drunk and tripped over his feet twice when he went on his way to face the drell. Once he was in his face he took the cigar from his lips and blew a puff of smoke at him. "Now, I don't think Raven will like not having his krogan battalion. Do you?" Siphon looked away and coughed. A smirk rose on the krogan's face. "Just what I thought about you Vipers. You don't have much of a poisonous bite. All you have to do is break their backs—"
A burst of blue energy seethed from the hands of Biasheta as Gern went flying backwards from the center of the dance floor into a wooden, chest-high wall. His head cracked against the wood as he broke through the barrier and landed on top of a table, breaking it under his weight. Her form was heaving and could not be calmed by Siphon's desperate pleads. The guards snapped to attention but were too slow as their guns were pulled from their hands. My god, I thought with a gulp. Her powers are indeed extremely impressive. Gern tried to get up. He clutched his back as he lifted himself off of the wooden rubble but was too slow as another blast of biotic power hit him square in the face and sent him head over heels into a wall. His head smashing against the concrete and a sickening snap indicated broken bone.
A wave of energy followed and pinned the krogan against the wall. His bloodied and broken form was then lifted and thrown across the room once more to the feet of Siphon. Gern could not move his legs at this point, only his arms as he tried desperately to lift himself up. He cussed and swore, begging his guards to help him. They could not. Too inflicted by fear, too anxious for their own fate they neglected their master. Biasheta soon stood beside the broken form of the krogan. With a lift of her hand she made his body rise as he twitched horrifically in the air. She closed her eyes and threw her hands out. Instantly the krogan's eyes burst open and the crackling of his crushed skull was the only sound that accompanied his wails.
"Go to jardyk, you magnificent bastard," she said with her thick accent. Gern cried his last as his body grew slack. With a sigh, Biasheta dropped the dead krogan and staggered under the exhaustion she had withstood.
The crowd was silent as Siphon walked over to Biasheta and grabbed her shoulders and brought her into a hug. She collapsed into his arms and gave a hefty sigh. Ranlof Gern was dead. After a momentary pause for her strength to be regained, Siphon let her go and she returned to our unit with slow, cautious movements. I could not believe what had gone on before me. The drell turned his face from her to the patrons and guards of the establishment. "You have two choices before you now," he spoke with a deadly tone. "You can join us under the unified banner of the Vipers, no longer a singular krogan battalion. Or," Siphon closed his eyes and revealed a gun from his hand to which he shot the dead corpse of Gern, "you can die like your master."
In this instant we flung up our guns. We each had our targets picked as the people inside now started to sweat. I even heard Zealot give a shout of joy as she brought her weapon out once more. Some people never change.
Silence continued as the situation dawned upon the people inside the club. Some were not even part of Gern's gang; they were here to have some 'fun'. Now they had been thrust into a war they knew nothing about. Like I was, I thought with a great sigh.
After the silence started to draw to a close a krogan, probably a captain of Gern's squad by his clothing, lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head. Soon the entire club followed his lead, lowering their heads in recognition of their service to Raven's order. Even the dancers and strippers bowed themselves and a bunch of the men in our group started to giggle and smile with glee. I could not bring myself to think such thoughts; I could only think about what these people were giving up. Once the last knee had touched the ground Siphon turned to us and signaled Prince to come forth. The quarian burst from the crowd with a heavy sigh. In his hands was an assault rifle that was shaking with fear. Poor kid.
"Wh...what is it Siphon?" he asked as his lip quivered.
"You think all these people can fit into our craft and still not be noticed by any authorities?"
The quarian peered at them through his mask and put his gun away. He wrung his slender hands about as he calculated weights and discrepancies. "If I do the math right... ummm, well it would be a tight fit. But if we remodel the astrophysics stealth calibrations and run by the mass effect fields with the generator—"
"Prince," warned the drell as he clasped his hands behind his back.
The quarian looked to him and sighed. "If we want to be completely safe we could take half of them. The dancers and strippers are not included in this equation, of course. They would all be able to come on the ship." This seemed to please the men of the group greatly as Siphon called all the dancers, male and female, to come towards us. What remained were the patrons scattered about and the guards kneeling by the walls.
With a look of distain, Siphon threw out his handgun into the middle of the dance floor and asked we all do the same with our pistols. We complied. Once a mound of weapons was piled on the floor Siphon looked to the people of the club. "Only half of you can make it out," he said with a grin. "Those who survive, meet us outside." He turned on his heel and started to walk out, we followed. Once he reached the door he turned and gave a smile. "Make it quick," is what he said as he threw himself out the door.
