Trask took in a deep breath as the hallex filled his blood stream. All of his senses seemed to heighten as he pulled the two thin tubes out of his thin wrist. This was a special brew he had to make for himself. Being a Salarian Trask's metabolism burned through regular hallex soon after he picked up the habit. His arm started to steady as the drug spread through his body.
There was a beep at the door terminal and a low voice spoke through the intercom. "Sir we are almost ready for departure. The captain wanted to make sure you were ready to go."
Slowly folding up his tubes and putting away his hallex Trask opened the door. He found a human looking up at him from the door. "I'm the one who told the captain we didn't need to stop on this scrap heap for repairs. We could have made the trip there and back twice now if we had stayed on course. So tell the captain I've been ready and get us out of here before some dock security guard starts asking for cargo reports."
Not knowing what to say the man simply yelled "Yes sir!" and quickly moved down the corridor to get as far away from the Salarian as soon as possible.
Trask smirked with enjoyment. He always had that effect on people, even if they didn't know who he was yet, he was an intimidating figure. He stood tall, with dark scars running down his neck and under his chest plate. He got the scars from a ritual common to Vorcha, used to prove the ferociousness of a warrior. They would run knifes down their chest until they couldn't take the pain. Of course Vorcha have very thick skin and the scars would never stick, but on a Salarian's thin skin the scars stained the body for life. Trask never did fit in as a "normal" Salarian though. Instead of the study of genetic sequences of intergalactic mammals, or bio-chemistry of Salarian metabolism Trask chose to focus on the science of warfare.
Crouching by his bed he opened the large food locker and found his muse.
He slowly slid his hand over the gun and pulled it out, cradling it between his shoulder and hand. The gun seemed light to him. He could lift the barrel to the perfect height and support the butt of the gun without a problem. The original TK2 Jarvis was made for long distance heavy mech shots. The production was halted however due to the hydraulic system, which needed to prevent major recoil in a mech's appendage. Exposed hydraulics in a combat area was extremely dangerous and armoring for it would simply slow the mech down more. So the gun plan was scrapped and the prototypes were sold off for parts or destroyed. Trask was able to hunt one down and add his own modifications to it. The 4 ½ foot long barrel of the gun was filed down some, and a custom stock and sight were added for only manual use. He also had a shoulder receiver constructed so that he could handle the massive amount of force the gun put back. The TK2 Jarvis could slice through the defenses of any Human, Salarian, or Turain force. Trask could take down a Krogan chief from two miles away and be gone before he hit the ground. Trask hadn't had the chance to even use his prized gun on this job.
The target was a large sealed shipping container from some mining company. Trask was hired by his employer to take out any protection the shipment had, and supervise the safe transportation of the package until it was delivered to an undisclosed location they would receive once they got out of the Outer Rim.
Trask's transport would be with the extraction team that was hired separately. They would be providing the transport on the frigate 'Cronos 131'. They were privately owned mercs but they were professional. None of them let on to who they worked for but Trask knew they were working for the employer full time. This job must have been important to them to hire a professional sniper to assist a group of commandos. The captain of the Cronos, Captain Dakavin, received last minute word that the package had already left the instructed pick up site. So instead of ambushing the shipment at its original destination they were forced to take down the crew of the transporting frigate and steal the package mid-flight. Dakavin demanded that the Cronos be repaired after the battle, though the damages were minor.
Trask was ready for the end of the mission. They were almost done with repairs and close to delivering the package. Once they were out of the Dranek system they could head straight for Citadel space, and turn in their prize.
The gun suddenly became heavy in Trask's hands. The hallex was wearing off. Trask's eyes turned dull as he put the gun away and sealed the footlocker. He was getting too old for the life of a mercenary. Almost 39 years old it was a miracle that Trask was still alive, knowing the life style he had. He slowly sat down on his bed and looked at his hands which started to shake slightly at the loss of the hallex. His shoulder brought back the dull pain it had gained over the years that hallex always seemed to dull. Trask knew he didn't have much time left to do jobs like this. Salarian life expectancy was low enough with their high metabolism, and he should have been enjoying his twilight years resting.
Then again there's nothing more dangerous than a dying animal…
First chapter in a while, hope I didn't disappoint. New character addition to add up to a nice action sequence I've got planned. Any comments, or reviews are still welcome. Tell me what you think so far and I'll be sure to work on it. Thanks for reading!