Whoo! That's gotta be record time for me. I told myself I wanted to try and see if I could put out a decent sized chapter inside of a week. This one is more of a setter-upper of a chapter, but I like it for the most part. As always read, review, favorite or follow.
"Cover! Cover!" A young voice shattered the quiet peace of the meadow the turian squad was holding up in. There were almost no defensive positions, but the grass stood tall and provided ample concealment. Mallus flattened himself on the ground half an instant before a hail of gunfire burst from the treeline.
immediately the meadow was awash with cries of pain and howls for aid. Mallus heard more than one voice cut off with deathly suddenness. A shape pushed through the grasses on its stomach. Mallus was fumbling to pull his rifle from underneath himself before he recognised his squadmate.
"Zolal." He tried to speak evenly; though it was difficult when you were in your first firefight and you were halfway through puberty. His heart was pounding in his skull and it felt like a bomb was exploding inside his chest.
Zolal smiled, jerking her head down as bullets shredded the grasses above. "How you holding up rookie?"
Mallus wordlessly shook his head.
Zolal's smile dropped and she slapped his helmet. "Well fix it and start crawling," she ordered. "We're retreating." She jerked her head towards the side of the meadow that wasn't a deathtrap.
Mallus nodded, not trusting his voice, hell, he barely trusted his breathing. Holding his rifle in a death grip, he began to crawl through the grass. Some turians from their side of the meadow had taken cover behind trees and begun to return fire.
"Spirits, spirits, spirits." Mallus whispered.
"Spirits won't save your life, moving will." Zolal snapped. She blindly raised her rifle and fired back at the humans.
Mallus passed what must have been dozens of turian bodies, eyes glazed over and blue blood sluggishly flowing out of holes in their armour.
Zolal appeared by his side again, crawling over the body of their squad leader. "It's a beautiful day on Shanxi." She pushed him forward and they kept moving. Mallus kept his grip on his weapon. He didn't even fire once.
Mallus woke up slowly, eyes staring up into the ceiling of his quarters aboard the Quiet Repose. Spirits, he thought. Haven't had those dreams in years. His eyes traces invisible patterns in the metal above. A long time ago…pulled himself up and swung his legs onto the cold floor. He pulled on a pair of loose pants and padded out into the hallway. The bridge was dark. Mallus checked the time. 0430. He was late.
He walked down into the empty mess and found a tube of dextro nutrient paste. He almost raised it to his lips before he grimaced and tossed it onto the table. Mallus stretched the sleep out of his legs and he started jogging.
He liked the ship at this time. The quiet of the early morning was heavy on his skin. He jogged down to engineering, passed the engine room and the area that had Chief's and the Tam's rooms before taking the steep stairs two at a time to reach the medbay. After the med he came to the cargo hold. He crossed the catwalks and descended to the floor, doing a series of switchbacks across the hold then heading through the lower door back to engineering and back up to the mess. Once he was back in the mess he turned around and started it again. Then again, and again and again until his plates were hot and his joints sweated. Back in the mess Mallus collapsed into a chair, breathing heavily and feeling the burn in his chest.
Tiredly he scooped up the tube and squeezed a generous mouthful out. Mallus grimaced, they could never quite get the flavor right. Simon said it was supposed to be similar to the smoked meat of a common earth mammal.
Mallus shrugged and squeezed out another mouthful. Food was food. Even with their recent payday they wouldn't be able to stop by a decent trading spot for a while, with prices on their heads. So they had what they had.
Mallus luxuriated in the cool air passing over his plates, enjoying the silence broken only by his own breath. The sound of a door opening from the hallway perked his ears and Mallus looked over lazily as Walesh walked into the mess, fully dressed and similarly awake.
"How long did you sleep tonight?" Mallus asked. Walesh bustled around the kitchen side of the mess, preparing both a levo and a dextro meal.
"More than average," the salarian said. "Full four hours."
Mallus chuckled breathily to himself. One of the benefits of having a salarian pilot, they needed very little sleep.
"How far out are we from Baak?" Mallus asked, pushing himself up to his feet and following Walesh into the hallway.
"We should arrive today." Walesh paused at the door, opposite of Mallus'. "Assuming no more incidents." He added.
"I, for one, enjoyed the extra week in deep space." Mallus said with an utterly straight face. "Nothing like the dark, empty void of space to warm the heart."
"I suspect dishonestly." Walesh blinked twice.
"Well done Walesh." Mallus said warmly. He clapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Maybe one day you'll sit in on the poker game, eh?"
"Perhaps." Walesh turned on his heel and walked into his and Zo's quarters.
Mallus chuckled to himself and walked into his own rooms, he needed a shower.
"Dropping out of FTL…" Walesh said, expertly manipulating the piloting screens. Mallus, Zo, and Chief stood behind the cockpit.
"Things are shiny down here," Kalia said through the intercom. "Everything's fixed up right new-like."
"Alright folks, let's try to do this with a minimum of crashing and burning." Mallus and Zo braced one arm against the ceiling as the shipped shuddered out of FTL, Mallus' long coat swayed frantically in the shift. Through the blues and reds of FTL, A planet burst into view, a tiny sphere of browns and greens sparsely interwoven with blue.
A shot of static hit their radio, "Identify yourself," A rough voice said. "We have planetary defenses locked on to your vessel."
"This is Mallus of the ISV Quiet Repose," Mallus said shortly. "Now kindly refrain from killing us and we'll get along fine."
"Mal?" Another voice said, just as rough if not moreso than the first.
Mallus didn't bother trying to dissuade the shortened use of his name, he'd learned long ago it was pointless with this man."In the flesh, Watcher."
The voice chuckled, "You've made so many changes to her the system didn't recognise her," He said warmly. "Come on down, we've got your rooms ready, plus one for your new crewmember."
Mallus shared a look with Chief. "That's mighty kind of you," Mallus said with a smile. Baak was rarely taken by surprise. "Take her down Walesh." He clapped the pilot on the shoulder and walked out of the bridge.
"So who is this person?" Cortana asked through Chief's speakers, the spartan following closely behind Mallus.
"He's a friend," Mallus said, "Can't say much more than that I'm afraid." He shrugged. "Not my secrets to say."
"Is it safe?" Chief asked.
"One of the safest places in the galaxy save for a councilor's backside," Zo said, appearing beside them and pulling on a short coat of her own. "It has to be, Baak has his own flavor of enemies."
"What makes it so safe?"
"Secrecy," Mallus said. The trio stepped into the hold. "This planet isn't on most star charts, and a series of nebulae and debris fields make it very difficult to find."
"I noticed," Chief said dryly. "Secret enough to hide from a spectre?" He asked. He'd done some research on exactly what a spectre can do, though it would have been faster to research the things a spectre can't do.
"Spirits I hope so," Mallus murmured.
"Oh I'm just brimming with confidence now," Cortana said, you could almost hear her eyes roll.
The ship began to shudder as they entered the atmosphere. Simon and River entered the hold, the former tugging the latter along by her hand. River stared at Chief with wide eyes. "Not many faces can come off." She said absently. Chief looked at Mallus sideways, he shrugged and shook his head
Simon was ladened with bags upon bags of equipment and gear.
"You ready, doc?" Mallus asked dryly.
"This time I brought a text achive," the doctor hefted one of the bags draped over his shoulder. "For their doctor."
Janeth clomped into the hold, his bright orange armour seemed to brighten the room in all the wrong ways. He didn't look at Chief and Cortana, or speak. He just sat heavily on a crate sitting near the door and remained silent.
"Are you two well?" Mallus asked Chief quietly.
"That's not my call," Chief said.
"We're fine," Cortana said flatly.
"Mhm." Mallus didn't sound convinced.
The shuddering stopped as they cleared the upper atmosphere. "Touchdown in five." Walesh said from the cockpit. Kalia bounced through the hold's back door, her face still smeared with grease and wearing a tank top with her mechanic overalls tied around her waist.
Kalia grinned widely and bounced from foot to foot excitedly.
Curiosity flickered in Chief. Who were these people to the crew?
The deck of the ship clunked heavily and a tremor ran through the ship. "Feet down." Walesh said shortly. "Core discharge set and ready."
Mallus nodded at Janeth. The krogan wordlessly smacked the cargo bay door with his fist. The wide cargo door whirred mechanically and began to descend. The crew waited as the door opened slowly. Walesh quietly joined Zolal.
The door clunked against the ground and bright, afternoon sunlight flooded into the hold. Outside a crowd of people had gathered, they were headed by a single man in simply clothes. A batarian, Chief noticed. The batarian swung his arms open wide. "Welcome!" He said loudly. He stepped onto the lowered cargo door and met Mallus. The men exchanged a hearty handshake. The batarian raised up Mallus' hand and turned to the crowd. "We Feast!" He shouted.
Chaos erupted.
Chief sat under a trio of moons, just past the height of the night sky. The deep thrum of music still pounded the air, though now distant from Chief's vantage. He sat on a rocky hill that overlooked the little town, well outside the reach of their flood lights. There was a low hum that permeated the air, some kind of cricket like insect he believed. Regardless he enjoyed his rare piece of true solitude, Cortana was busy upgrading the colony's cyber warfare defenses. The sounds of boots on the ground made him look around.
The leader of the colony, the batarian named Baak, walked leisurely up the hill towards him, up a narrow trail that cut back and forth as it rose.
"Fancy meeting you here," Baak said when he came close enough to see Chief properly. "The festivities not to your liking?"
"Not much for parties." Chief said. Even amongst his Spartan peers, he'd been, well, rather spartan.
"Neither am I," Baak said with a smile, he raised a bottle in a one sided toast. "But it's good for the soul to slip the leash every now and then." He smiled easily and brought the bottle to his lips. He lowered the bottle and swallowed, letting the night's hum return. "I hear from Mal that you're a rather particular sort," he said after a stretch. "Not really from around these parts, so to speak." Both sets of eyes looked crossways at him.
"Something like that."
Baak smiled again and took a drink. "Loosing your whole universe would be rather jarring, I suspect. Is there anything you would like to talk about?"
Chief looked at the batarian. "I've met a few like you," he said.
"And I'm not really like them?" Baak ventured Chief's unasked question. "No, I'm not," He said. "Part of the reason I live out here." He waved to the assembled houses and sounds below. "The Hegemony and myself have never gotten along terribly well." He chuckled warmly. "And the Council wouldn't leave me alone, asking me what I knew about inside the government." He paused for a moment. "Though I suppose using the word 'asking' is being a bit generous." He turned to face Chief and tapped his cheek under his left top eye. A ragged scar ambled across the side of his head nearly all the way to the back.
"What'd you do?" Chief asked.
"I ran." Baak shrugged. "Loaded up as many slaves as I could and found this place."
Chief did a double take. "Slaves?" He asked carefully. His left hand curled into a fist.
Baak sighed, "Yes, slaves," He said tiredly. "Slavery is a cornerstone to Batarian culture. One of the reasons we didn't get along with the Council." He waved to the town down below. "I own every soul down there except for the Repose's crew. Well most of it." He chuckled, "There was an incident with the Tams and a batarian smuggling ring, so technically speaking…" He trailed off, looking at Chief with a strange look on his face. "How much do you want to kill me?" He asked.
Chief looked Baak in the eye flatly. "More than a little," he said honestly.
"I doubt I could stop you, from what I've heard," Baak admitted. "But before you hand down your divine judgment, let me speak."
Chief waited.
"To most batarians, a slave is just that, a slave. A thing to be bought and sold, used or broken." Baak sat down on the hill next to Chief, his elbows braced on his knees and head hung low. "I have seen my brothers and sisters commit horrible acts against living, sentient beings simply because those people were slaves at the time." He spread his hands. "I've done my fair share of horrible myself." He murmured. "But that is why I left. The Church of Karshan is a brutal doctrine around a core of truth, and I sought to peel away the brutality to find it."
Once more the batarian was silent, the sound of the crickets became the dominant sound. Chief waited. He knew Baak was not finished.
"I am the Watcher of my flock," Baak said. "And I am the owner of it. But ownership of a life does not imply the disregard of its importance, but rather in imbues the owner with the responsibility of care. A life is precious, and to own a life is the greatest honor a person can hope for, and the highest duty of a lifetime."
Chief thought on his words. Behind his helmet he frowned.
Baak smiled gently. "Do you think I am some thief?" He asked. "Stealing these lives from their true homes and forcing a father they never wanted on them?" The quiet of the night seemed to weigh heavily on his words, giving them a strange energy. "I did not take these people from their homes. I took them from other slavers, the streets or criminal organizations." He raised his open hands, "I pulled these people out of a world that did not see them, that would not care one bit," His hands seized into fists, "if they disappeared entirely."
Chief looked back over the town. "Very well," he said simply.
"In the morning, talk to the people, their stories are all the same, yet each one is utterly unique." Baak stood and started to make his way down the hill. He paused for a moment. The thrumming of the music still loud in the distance. "On second thought, better make it the afternoon," He said with a grin, and he continued on his way.
After a while Chief walked back to the town, the music was still playing as he passed the town hall but he ignored it. He carried on until he found the building where is temporary rooms were held.
He sank into his bed with a tired sigh.
"Have a good night?" Cortana asked, flickering into existence on his bedside table. Her chip was laying next to her.
"Yeah," Chief said. "I did."
Shepard sat at the terminal, her hands poised over the holographic keyboard and her left leg bouncing on the ball of her foot. The first two words of her message stared back at her with enraging uselessness.
Dear Liara.
Shepard ground her teeth and wracked her brains to try and say something, something meaningful that showed just how much Liara meant to her. She wanted to tell her that every time they touched she felt warm inside, and that when they shared a smile every single worry in the galaxy melted away. But whenever her fingers dipped lower, the words fled. Come on dammit! She cursed herself. You need to write something to her before you leave the Relay system again!
"Commander?" Joker asked through the intercom, harshly jerking Shepard out of her thoughts. "You're wanted in the communications room."
Shepard very nearly growled. She jerked up to standing, knocking her chair over, and stalked out of her quarters. This had better be good, she thought.
Shepard burst into the com room with a scowl on her face. Three holographic faces jerked up at her entry. "What?" Shepard asked the Council sharply.
The Turian Councillor frowned, "Do not forget your place, Shepard, just because you saved our lives does not give you the right to disrespect us."
Shepard crossed her arms. "You called me?" She asked. She frowned at the empty holo pedestal. "Where's Councillor Anderson?"
The turian councillor opened his mouth to say something, something not nice judging by his expression, but the asari Councillor cut in.
"David is tending to personal matters," She said gently. "We wished to speak on your current objective." She asked, her smooth voice a pleasant change from the turian. "The new subject of your mission is most interesting to us."
Shepard sighed internally. "Presumed human male of unknown origins," She said emotionlessly, uncrossing her arms and clasping them behind her back. "Uses advanced armour capable of completely resisting modern small arms." Shepard opened her omni tool and showed the video of their encounter on Omega. "The subject did not display hostility until after the red entity appeared, suggesting that they are infact two different beings." She zoomed in on the image of a small red woman sitting on the subject's shoulder. "We believe the Red Woman to be an advanced A.I."
"An A.I?" The salarian councillor said. "Where would such a construct be kept? On their escape ship?"
"We don't think so." Shepard brought up an image of the Firewing class blueprint, "there isn't enough room on board to properly house and manage an A.I of that magnitude." Shepard hesitated. "One theory was that the A.I was stored in the subject's armour." She knew what the councillor's response would be.
"Preposterous." The turian councillor waved dismissively. "Nothing that small can even come close to holding a fully sentient A.I."
"There are many atypical aspects of this case." The salarian said thoughtfully. "It is wise to not presume too much." He nodded to Shepard. "Your findings give us much to think on, though in truth we did not call for a report, but to aid." His hologram looked over to the Turian Councillor. "Sparatus?"
"I received a call from a friend in the Hierarchy." The turian said stiffly. "He says that he recognised the voice of the turian your subject had made friends with and confirmed with voice print identification." Sparatus opened his omni tool. "He seems...convinced...that this man wouldn't get involved in anything that would hurt innocent people." He wove at the pedestal and an incoming message icon blinked on Shepard's arm.
"Tell that to the nine people to fell to their deaths in crashed skycars." Shepard murmured, opening her omni tool and accessing the files sent. The image of a gruff looking turian popped up, history and service record listed beside it.
"We are officially requesting you to attempt communication over hostility." The Asari councillor said firmly. The word request was a synonym for order, it seemed.
"I will take your request into consideration," Shepard said gracefully. "But I must prioritize the lives of my subordinates over the acquisition of a possible ally."
"No, you do not." Sparatus said flatly. "That is precisely why the Spectres were created."
Shepard ground her teeth. "Is there anything else?" She asked stiffly.
"No," the asari councillor shot a dark look at Sparatus. "We are finished here." All three holograms winked out.
"God." Joker's voice crackled over the intercom. "What a bunch of assholes."
"Yep." Shepard spun on her heels and headed back to her quarters. She had a file to read.
Liara sat at the base of the obelisk and took notes. She took notes on the structure and the design of it, and she took notes on who she was speaking to from the other side. A curious group of humans that seemed even more driven and single minded than the Alliance. A singularly chilling thought.
"So your people have been at war for a quarter century?" Liara shook her head in bewilderment. "I can scarcely imagine."
"A little longer than that actually," Palmer said. She sounded mildly distracted, she was likely doing some kind of paperwork again, UNSC officers seemed to do little else. "The Covenant attacks began in 2525 and we signed the treaty in 2553." She trailed off, absorbed in whatever was actually in front of her.
"That would explain the advancements relative to our universe." Liara said thoughtfully. "I'm not inclined to mistrust your word, but a ship the size you claim doesn't seem possible." She added another note. "At least built by organic hands," she added quietly.
"Well, it wasn't cheap…" Palmer said wryly. "The Infinity is the only one if it's kind so far."
"But some of the values given to me by your Doctor Glassman are truly staggering," Liara said truthfully. "These 'Covenant' people seem very advanced indeed."
"They're a formidable bunch," Palmer said dispassionately. Liara looked up from her notes.
"Well, that's all I need for today," she said a little lamely. "Goodbye, Commander Palmer." She had to make sure she added the woman's name, otherwise, she might confuse herself.
"Bye." The device spat static as it disconnected. Liara stood and returned to her lab, her head buried in her notes. Liara shook her head, she couldn't focus on the words. Her eyes kept glazing over as her thoughts wandered to other subjects. Liara sighed, it was clear she wouldn't get any work done in her current condition. She needed to check her mail anyway.
She packed for a short trip into the nearest relay system. She collected food enough food for a day or two and checked to make sure her omnitool had the vids she wanted on it before clambering out through the older labs to her small ship.
Liara absently keyed the controls to take her to the relay system. This wasn't a high traffic cluster, but it had been thoroughly mapped, it was unlikely she would have to do anything apart from watching the systems. If that, modern day auto piloting systems were very advanced.
Liara set the course and relaxed back in her small ship's captain's chair. The tiny craft was only designed to hold a maximum of four people, barely big enough to be called a corvette. The ship lifted off the planet with surprising grace, considering the pilot; Liara herself was no great operator of ships, and so had no business critiquing another's performance, even if they were simply a series of programs.
Liara tapped some commands into her omnitool and co-opted the main screen of the cockpit. A great sigh escaped her lips as the quarian and turian actors flickered into life. Tali always said she should watch this vid and it was a several hour trip to the nearest com buoy. As the vid began rolling and the story unfolded Liara lost herself in the words floating around the cabin. She was so lost, that she didn't notice the tiny drone rocket into the sky behind her.
"What is the news on my dig?" Jonah Ashland asked, the top-of-the-line terminal sitting on his desk provided the only light in his admittedly rather spacious office. His words were recorded and sent across the galaxy in a highly experimental and very expensive communications network.
"The original scientists are all gone." The voice that replied was garbled and low, distorted so that no one would be able to find out what the speaker truly sounded like. "The site has been taken over by a single asari researcher."
"Taked over!?" Ashland hissed. The darkness of the empty room pressed down on him keeping his voice low. "I paid good money for that artifact! Now you're telling me that the Matriarchs will get their purple paws on it?" He could already see the millions of credits evaporating away like water on a skillet.
"Dr T'soni is not working directly for the Matriarchs," the voice said slowly. "She has close ties to the human spectre but otherwise is not affiliated to known powers."
"So what are you saying?" Ashland asked slowly. "Do you think she can be swayed to work for me?"
The voice was silent for several moments. "She can be used," it said finally. "She has vacated the site temporarily, I believe, to reconnect to the extranet. I'm sending a team in now to begin surveillance."
"Let her do the work for us and then pick up the pieces when she's finished." Ashland's tone did not lend itself to the supposition that 'finished' meant, 'moved on with her life and found other new and exciting projects to work on'.
"A financially expedient plan," the voice on the terminal said smoothly. "Beneficial to those who are amassing debts to other business partners." The unspoken threat was obvious and deeply troubling. Nobody failed to pay back the Shadow Broker. In one way, or another.
Ashland swallowed nervously. "Quite right," he said faintly.
The Man in the Shallows hung up on the human. He sent a series of messages through the usual channels and waited. Ashland thought he was speaking to the Shadow Broker, a preposterous notion, not even the highest in their organization knew who he was, and The Man in the Shallows was far from the highest.
The Man in the Shallows received confirmation that a wetwork team was moving on the site, they would have surveillance in place and be gone long before the asari got back from her trip. The Man in the Shallows forwarded his report through to the Broker, being sure to include how much Ashland wanted the artifact, some people would pay good money for that information.
Mallus Renaldus snarled wordlessly and fired his rifle in a wild barrage. A group of Batarian pirates scattered to the bountiful cover provided by the mining station's hallways. The dead turian slumped down in the center of the hallway where they'd executed her. Purple blood made violent streaks across the opposite bulkhead.
"Corporal!" Sergeant Zolal shouted as she slowed from a sprint to join him, her armoured shoulder smacking against the wall. "Report!"
Mallus barked something that might have been a word, he didn't care, he just wanted those bastards to die. He hurled a grenade and picked off a pirate that tried to escape the tiny disk. Zolal edged out to take a look and jerked back when return fire peppered her corner.
"Cover!" Mallus snapped. Zolal swept out and hammered the area with rounds from her shotgun and Mallus made a mad dash closer.
The Pirates were firing back now, but blindly, simply thrusting their rifles over the cover and pulling the trigger. When Mallus' back struck a wall he spun out and unleashed his own fire, forcing more than one weapon down and even hitting a pair of them. smoke rose from behind the low wall that the pirates were hiding behind and the two made their own dash. Only to be gunned down by an advancing Zolal.
"Their morale is breaking!" Zolal shouted over the fighting. "Keep pushing!"
And they did. Inch by inch they pushed forward, just the two of them. One by one the pirates fell. Some fell running away with fear in their eyes, and other fell facing him with a weapon in their hands. But they all fell in the end.
When the last pirate slumped down with a hole in his head Mallus lowered his pistol, his rifle had taken a shotgun blast and was beyond repair. Without a word he traced his steps back to where they'd started. The eyes of the executed turian were long since glazed over with death. Mallus ran his talons over her eyes. It was impossible to think she was sleeping, however, the messy wound in her forehead made it clear how she'd died.
"Spirits guide you to the Halls of the Honored Dead." Mallus whispered, a tear made tracks through the dust and grime of battle. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you Naila."
Mallus opened his eyes.
The early morning suns shone through the cracks in his window, letting cool air and soft summer sounds waft into his room.
It was torture. The air felt like sandpaper on his skin and the cool air felt like a arctic blast of air, the sunlight stabbed into his eyes like...laser...knife...things.
Too early for analogies. Mallus groaned internally. He carefully sat up and set his feet on the floorboards, holding his head in his hands.
No more ryncol bombs. Mallus agonized. Never again. The final image of his dream lingered in his mind, he tried to shake his head to rid himself of the old memories and regretted it immediately. Gently cradling his head and standing, Mallus carefully shuffled over to his door and headed for the kitchen.
Baak sat at the small round table in the center of the kitchen, the table held two plates of food and two steaming carafes. The batarian looked up at Mallus' less than put together state.
"Morning," he said with a smile. He lifted one of the carafes and poured out a cup of dark, turian coffee, a recent invention to make a dextro version of the now popular human drink.
"Spirits, thank you." Mallus dropped down into the chair heavily and began eating.
Baak opened his book, an actual paper book, and resumed reading. "Did you have a good night?" He asked without looking up.
Mallus shrugged. "Could be," he said. "All gets a mite fuzzy after the twins started riding Janeth." He stuck a forkful of food in his mouth.
"Hmmm." Baak said knowingly. "Ryncol will do that to a man."
They sat in silence. Mallus carefully ate and drank his coffee while Baak read his book. They only sounds were the early morning and the steady sound of pages flipping.
"How long will you be staying?" Baak asked after Mallus had finished. Mallus shrugged again.
"Hopefully, until the heat dies down on us." Mallus said quietly. "we got into a bit of roughness on Omega and we could use a nest."
"On Omega?" Baak asked, he reached down to a sack at his feet and pulled out a datapad. "Not the Citadel? Or any and all Council spaces including the Alliance, Hierarchy, and Asari spaces?" The pad showed a clear image of Chief with a tiny red woman sitting on his shoulder and a reward for any information leading to his capture or his outright capture.
"Watch…"Mallus said. "You know I wouldn't bring the wrong folk here, there's just been a misunderstanding."
"A.I.s are never a known quantity, even alien ones." Baak said, going back to his book.
"Humans aren't too bad at it," Mallus said easily.
Baak gave Mallus a crossways look that made clear he wasn't referring to Chief's species as alien
Mallus sighed. "Fine, you caught me. Interdimensional super-soldier alien from an alternate universe." He said.
Baak smiled gently. "There are only four dimensions, you know."
Mallus scrubbed his hands over his scalp. "You know, one of these days you'll have to tell me how you're so good at this stuff.
Baak chuckled gently. "No, I won't." His book clapped shut and he stood, scraping his chair's legs across the wooden floor and ignoring Mallus wince with graceful tact. "You can stay as long as you wish," Baak said, "As always, my home is yours, for as long as you need it." He made a short bow, or possibly a deep nod, and left.
Mallus sat in the empty kitchen, his plate was empty and his coffee grown cold. He tossed back the rest of the dark liquid and stood sharply, ignoring the pain in his head. He needed to go for a run.
Liara smiled as she read a short, simple letter from Shepard. It was awkward, and stumbling, but it was her, the woman she fell in love with. Liara typed her own message.
It is wonderful to hear from you again, Sarah, it has been far too long. But I have a proposition for you, somewhat business related. (I have another, but that one I will only broach face to face.) Find me here, this is a discovery that you will find very interesting.
With Love,
Liara.
The message contained her coordinates, or rather the coordinates of the planet next to hers, where she could easily monitor and ensure that Shepard wasn't followed or the message wasn't intercepted.
Liara waited by the Relay for another hour, sending and receiving messages and news from around the galaxy. Liara frowned as a wanted poster filled her screen, asking for the information or capture of a strange looking armoured individual and what was supposed to be a partnered A.I. Liara's frown wasn't for the criminal, but rather the Spectre who'd posted it. 'Commander Shepard." Her fingers traced the name almost fondly. "You're not taking it easy are you?" She asked it quietly. 'Taking it easy', and Shepard rarely mixed well.
Liara sighed worriedly and keyed the return trip into her ship. The massive relay in front of her slowly began to shrink and slide away to show only the endless black void of space. Liara opened her notes on the obelisk. She might as well get some studying done while she waited.
As she left, absorbed in her notes, a tiny drone relayed the information and slowly began to follow.
"Lieutenant! Sitrep, NOW!" The grizzled Turian Captain barked, glaring at the squad leader in his ragged state.
"Hostiles have been de-hostilized," Mallus said tiredly, not bothering to even lift his head from where he lay on the metal floors of the spaceport. "As per ordered." He swung his hand up vertically in a perfunctory salute-ish gesture.
"You were ordered to stop the Cargo from leaving the planet at all costs" The captain growled. "So why do I have half a dozen confirmed reports of several cargo ships leaving this planet in the last twelve hours?"
"Yeah, about that..." Mallus tapped his omni tool and a door opened. "Sir?" Zolal saluted the captain sharply.
"Tell the good Captain what happened." Mallus wove blindly at Zo.
"We encountered hostile resistance almost immediately after drop, sir," Zolal said. She stood rigidly at attention as she spoke to the captain. "The pirates were well armed, more than we had reason to suspect, we took heavy casualties." Her tone didn't waver an inch as she spoke of the deaths of many of her lifelong friends. That's how things were when you were a soldier in the turian military. "They quickly began to load the cargo, before we got to them they were already spinning up their engines." Zolal shifted from foot to foot. "When we began to set up the heavy guns for a disabling shot we were stopped by the locals," she said. A note of hesitation crept into her voice.
"It appeared that some of that 'cargo', were their relatives." Mallus said darkly. "Can you tell me what the Hierarchy wants with, quite literally, boatloads of slaves, Captain?"
"The officers of the Blackwatch do not question, lieutenant," the Captain spat. "They do what they must for the good of the turian people."
"They do?" Mallus perked his head up at that. Easily snapping to his feet and coming mandible to mandible before the captain could do more than gasp. "Well I'm glad I have the criteria now," he said quietly. Without breaking eye contact he plucked off the black metal pins adorning his armour's shoulders. "Glad to have an official reason for my resignation." The pins rang musically against the metal floor and Mallus stepped past the speechless officer.
Zo stepped up as Mallus opened the airlock to his ship and disappeared inside.
"Sergeant!" The Captain nearly shouted. "I order you to-"
He cut off as Zolal's fist connected with his face, audibly cracking a mandible. "There were children on that ship," she hiss in his ear as he doubled over in pain.
Without another word Zolal ripped her own pins off and cast them aside, following Mallus into the small ship.
Mallus looked around as she entered the ship, "you sure you want to follow me sergeant?" He asked uncertainly. "Fairly certain desertion still carries a hefty punishment."
"So does striking a superior officer." Zo said flatly. She sat down and began preflight checks. "We can't keep this ship. Blackwatch is all over it already," she said.
"I know." Mallus opened up a map of the galaxy. "We'll set her down in one of the spaceyards in the Terminus. I know a guy that can get us a decent ship at a fair price."
"Then what?" The ship pulled smoothly away from the spaceport and lifted into the sky
Mallus stared unseeing past the controls, piloting the ship mostly by muscle memory. "We find a crew, make a life." He shrugged. "Take whatever jobs we can. See if we can help some folk if the need arises."
Zo smiled faintly. "That sounds nice," she said quietly. The small vessel curised through the blackness, only a tiny spark in an endless night, but sometimes that's all that's needed.