Holy Warrior
(Father Ignatius)
Date: 1-21-2185
Location: The Arena Palace, The Deeps, Omega
There were moments when I almost felt like I was back with the 10th Street Reds. My cassock had been abandoned in favor of a suit of light armor, though I had, perhaps my fellows on Earth would have said cheekily, painted the neck collar of the armor white to match my priestly one.
The past several weeks, I had been attempting to help Khentu run the logistics for the Legends. The new gang name had come from Khentu's inspirational speech, and had occurring almost organically, rather than any official decision on the leadership's part.
Logistically, this past month had been a near nightmare. There were members of no fewer than eight gangs who had all come together on this journey across the Deeps. And our 'large' group of eighty-odd survivors had exploded. By now, there were more than six hundred people now living in the Arena, and the Palace next to it, and we had only begun to scratch the surface in the living space available. All in all, we estimated that there was going to be room for two or three thousand in the two structures, before we would need to expand further.
Though clearing those buildings wasn't our actual focus; we were working in constant, rotating crews to repair the three nearest berths of the long-abandoned Deep Docks.
"I've got the reports here, Father," Hadasi stated, typing on a pad in her hand. I had to admit, she and her sister had surprised everyone, including themselves I think, with their natural administrative talents. They had thrown themselves into the Herculean task as my main assistants. Of course their youth still showed in their routine attempts to amuse themselves by attempting to switch identities in an effort to confuse everyone else.
"Any significant changes I should know about?" I asked. Thus far, I was the only non-asari who had always managed to keep the two of them straight, even when they went so far as to wear each other's clothes.
"Not really," she shook her head. "Barco thinks we can get another 15% on the power generator, which should let the hydroponics labs get one more bay going."
"Excellent," I nodded. "God willing, we should be able to add some fresh vegetables into everyone's diet."
"That will be a welcome change," she grinned, no doubt at the prospect of a salad, an idea I had to confess I certainly found appealing also.
We came around the corner to find two guards in armor identical to ours, the black and red armor offset by the golden scroll symbol on the shoulder pieces.
"Sorry, Father," one of them said, raising a hand, "You'll have to wait here until-"
"Have you taken leave of your senses!?"
I winced as Khen's yell filled the hall through the closed door of his office. "Jehu's still in there with him I take it, Benjamin?" I asked.
Ben nodded. The boy had been to Mass a few times, but that had more to do with the girl he was courting, I suspected. Nevertheless, it was a way for me to get to know more of the people on our quickly-booming city, and my congregation grew every week it seemed.
Khentu Emrys' voice was plain to hear as he continued dressing down the unfortunate subordinate.
"You are so supposed to be working, damn it, not chasing after girls who don't want to be caught!" he was saying. "You've been in charge of that work gang for three weeks now, and you've fuck all to show for it."
There was a much-more muted mumbling noise as Jehu attempted to give some sort of explanation, or rather, as it sounded, an excuse.
"No!" Khentu replied flatly to the unheard request. "I'm not going to pull Jesse and his team to help you!"
More mumbling followed, still not clear enough to be heard.
"Because they're busy patrolling the perimeter, making sure those gods-damned creatures don't come over the wall and eat us in our sleep!" Khentu retorted. "Or have you forgotten seeing our patrol taken apart right in front of us?"
More mumbling could be heard, but I thought this time I detected a change in pitch. Khentu's voice softened as well, though his baritone voice carried much further than the Batarian's:
"Look, Jehu; you've been with me ever since Doru, and the Fall. We walked across the fucking Deeps together, for Ra's sake," he was saying, and there was a kindness now in his voice. "Tell me what's going on, and I'll help you. Tell me what you need, and I'll do my damned best to get it for you. But I'm not going to start pulling collars on people just because we got here first, and they second. The second we do that, the flow of refugees will stop, and we'll be crawling back to Aria for more handouts, and she'd be a damned fool to give us any more than she already has. Then it'll be our people going back to starving in the Deeps. You remember what it was like to be starving, right? That's why I thought you could be trusted with this detail. Or was I wrong?"
"No, Lord," Jehu stated, speaking loud enough to be heard by us for the first time. "You were not wrong. I will lead by example, and bring about results, I swear it."
"I know you will, my friend," Khen replied. "Now, send in Father Ignatius when you head out, will you? Gods keep you."
There was a sound like the Batarian slamming a fist against his breastplate in salute, and then the door opened. Jehu ul Cokat inclined his head respectfully as he saw me, and I made the sign of the cross in reply.
"Pax vobiscum, my son," I greeted. "Peace be with you."
"A profitable day to you as well, Father," he nodded. "He's waiting for you."
I moved past him to enter the office of Khentu Emrys, Lord of the Legends. Datapads lay scattered across the desk, though the fact that they seemed to be in three rough groups showed that Laila had been here within the past few hours.
Khentu, on the other hand, was rubbing at his eyes as I closed the door behind us.
"He'll rise to the occasion," I reassured, "Jehu has a good head on his shoulders."
"When he doesn't let his dick do the thinking for him," Hadasi added, more critically.
"He's a good kid," Khentu nodded agreement. "In a perfect world, I'd keep him in command of a patrol squad for another six months before giving him anything bigger. But… this is the Deeps, just too much to do and not enough leadership." He shrugged, and then his face grew thoughtful again. "Is that the finance report?"
"Everything seems to be going rather well," I nodded, as Hadasi turned her pad over, showing Khen the highlighted sections. "The ration chits do seem to be doing the trick. At least until we get more specie down here for ourselves."
In the first few days of the Legends, we had operated on a crude barter system, mixed with literal IOU's on the gang's part. Later, we had started to make chits out punched steel, marked with a distinctive pattern. These were given to the workers, and could be exchanged for food, clothing, or other necessities. It was simple, but there was also the added morale boost that came with the feeling of being paid for work and buying items to provide for your family. In no time at all, of course, counterfeit chits began to appear, whereupon Khentu and I had tracked down the counterfeiter… and offered him a job. He now worked in our "Treasury," adapting our custom currency to counter people like himself.
"I'm hoping that, as more people come in, we can slowly move back to standard credit chits and digital currency," I stated as Khentu finished the report, and shook his head.
"Most people on Omega don't have a lot of faith in digital currency," he replied. "Not below Afterlife District, anyway."
"The number of people coming in via the Lifts has been steady," Hadasi reported. "Slow, but steady."
"Well," I chuckled, "We are going against two hundred years of rumor, fear, and legends."
"Hey," Khentu chided. "We're the Legends, now."
"I still don't get why we didn't just restart the Blood Arrows here," Hadasi stated, "It's not like there's another group on Doru to get confused with…"
She stopped as both Khentu and I shot her a look, coupled with my own gentle nudge to her shin. Reminding Khentu of his family's deaths wasn't a great course of action at the best of times, much less now.
"Oh, Goddess," she gasped, mortified, "I didn't… I didn't mean…"
"It's alright," Khentu said, holding up a hand. "And it's because there are no more Blood Arrows on Doru that we made the decision to change the name. I think it's a smarter move than trying to restart in the deeps, because with the old gang name comes old grudges. Plus, forcing the Blood Arrow legacy to continue somewhere else is almost disrespectful to their memory; like keeping an elderly family member on a ventilator, long past the time the soul has left the body. Sometimes… sometimes…"
"Sometimes it is best to put some spirits to rest, my son," I finished slowly.
"Yeah," Khen nodded, "'Let the Blood Arrows die with Doru', you know?"
"KHENTU EMRYS!"
All three of us whirled at the shout, and Khentu moved to one side of the door, while Hadasi and I went to the other. Khen gave a countdown, and then moved through the door with us following, all of our weapons drawn.
The two guards outside had their rifles at the ready, but were clearly unsure of what exactly to do. Approaching them, down the long hallway, was a Batarian, surrounded by a group of followers. He was clad in horribly filthy rags, but the wide, black scar on his head was enough to identify him: Malaki ul Wassitok had been one of the staunchest opponents to Khentu's leadership ever since we had first taken control of the Arena. Or at least, one of the most vocal about his displeasure at following a human ruler. As he wasn't a member of any gang, or had any following to speak of, we had ignored most of the complaining and groaning as facts that came with the territory.
Apparently, the ex-priest, the brand mark on his forehead clearly marking where his own religion had stripped him of his religious title, had elected to gamble with what little following he had. Reaching over a shoulder, he drew two long blades. The Batarians called them "sabers," though on Earth, they would have probably been called 'machetes.' One of these weapons was tossed forward, clattering on the ground in front of Khentu.
"HEAR ME, citizens!" called the priest, "Harken and bear witness!"
Heads began to swivel our direction on the already-crowded Promenade, and the beginnings of an audience began to form. Seemingly encouraged by this, he turned back and thrust a bony finger in our direction, the long nail dirty and unkempt.
"Khentu Emrys," he repeated, "In the name of the people whom you have misled, I CHALLENGE YOU for lordship of the Deeps! I am the People's Choice, and their Chosen Instrument!"
I would have been very surprised if "The People" accounted for anyone other than the ten or twelve Batarians behind him, all of them as ragged as he was.
"On my challenge," Malaki was continuing, "we shall meet blade-to-blade on this chosen ground, to settle by the ancient laws of combat, for good and all, whose will shall hold sway…"
The gunshot cut off the rest of his loud declaration to the crowd. The 'Chosen Instrument of the People' toppled, the right side of his face a bloody ruin. Khentu gestured with the pistol to the rest of his followers.
"Any more of you care to take up his challenge?" he asked, switching over the Batarians' own language.
Apparently, no one did.
"Then I'm going to say this once, and for your sake, I'll make this very simple," Khentu stated, holstering his firearm. "This is not a democracy. It's a dictatorship. A benevolent dictatorship, but a dictatorship nonetheless. I don't give a fuck about ancient laws of combat, or honored rituals of power. If any son of a bekwa here wants to rule, they are welcome to come and find me. But bringing a fucking knife to a gunfight is not my bloody problem."
The rag-tag group shifted uncomfortably, staring at the knives in their belts and the rifles in all the rest of our hands. But Khentu made a gesture, and the weapons were lowered as he waved vaguely at the body lying the in a growing pool of its own blood.
"So take your Chosen Instrument there, and make sure the body is disposed of with the proper rites," he said gravely. "And then I would strongly urge the rest of you to mediate upon the words of the Pillars of Wisdom, Strength, and Power before making any sort of decision concerning your futures here."
His eyes went around the half-circle, making sure to make eye contact with each of the males present.
"I know your names; I know your faces," he stated calmly and evenly. "I know where your families and loved ones sleep. Now begone and be thankful for my mercy."
The party scrambled to collect the body of their glorious leader, dragging it very unceremoniously out of sight, heads bobbing so far to the left I thought they were going to strain something.
"You know their names?" Hadasi asked, once they were out of sight. "Who were they?"
"No idea," Khentu grinned. I put a hand on his shoulder outside the office door.
"Don't forget we have another Lift incoming next shift," I reminded him. By now, I was getting used to Omega's strange time-keeping system, though honestly I didn't understand what was wrong with standard time.
"I'll be there," Khentu nodded. "Just don't ask me to come to your weird… cult thing afterwards."
"Service," I corrected. "And you know you're always welcome to attend. You don't have to participate. In fact, until baptism, you're not allowed to participate."
"Religion is all well and good for the masses, Father," Khen grinned at me. Several long evenings had gone into friendly theological debates between the two of us, comparing and contrasting the merits between the truly strange neo-Egyptian religion his ancestors had begun, the Catholic Church, and his own agnostic leanings. "But I'll find faith in my own way."
"As God will find you, my son," I replied. "In His own way."
I patted the shoulder and then turned to head back to the wing of rooms that served as my new growing orphanage, as well as my Logistics office. Hadasi fell in step beside me and we walked along in silence for a moment. I smiled at the various stalls that were being set up along what we were calling The Marketplace, for obvious reasons. I had no idea how some of these vendors had obtained some the items they were now selling, many of which I had tried and failed to secure.
Never underestimate a black market, I thought amusedly as we walked, and turned towards Hadasi to get her opinion.
"Don't ask me to join your weird church either, Father," she answered before I could say a word. "Your whole 'One-Male-God' thing is a bit too misogynistic for me."
"And the 'One-Goddess-Athame' obviously isn't too misandrist for you?" I retorted playfully.
"Hey now," Hadasi chided, "Asari don't have genders. So our religion avoids that theological pitfall quite handily."
"And at any rate, I'm not in a hurry to proselytize," I shrugged. "I figure that God's truth, love, and kindness are their own missionaries, so long as I share them liberally with those I meet."
Hadasi's face grew grave, and she looked around her.
"In a place like this?" she answered. "That's a great way to get yourself taken advantage of."
"Hence the rifle and armor," I chuckled, gesturing to the newest additions of my wardrobe. "I'm compassionate, not stupid."
Omega's Child
(Khentu Emrys)
Date: 1-22-2185
Location: The Arena, The Deeps, Omega
"Ra have Mercy," I hissed under my breath as the massive lift from the Uppers finally hove into view, and its cargo with it.
A horde of newcomers and refugees, easily over a hundred of them, began shoving forward and off the platform. Most of them held themselves with quiet reserve that was typical of most Omega residents. Other looked warily at the guards with guns, and took in the sight of the newly-renovated area around them. Others pressed forward with blind hope in their eyes, uncaring of what dangers lay ahead, so long as they escaped whatever horrors had driven them to accept coming down here.
"Do you want me to take charge of this group, Lord?" Osman asked. The kid had been eager to help ever since he got here. I didn't have an official secretary, but if I did, he'd probably be the one to get the job.
"No, Osman," I replied. "I'm their new leader, so it's best that I talk to them first. Go help Waz set up the practice ring; we have to see what this group is made of."
Osman started to make the Blood Arrow salute of the back of his hand to his forehead, and then remembered himself and merely brought his fist against his breastplate before running off to do just that. I turned and began walking towards the Lift, once again silently vowing to not allow the Deeps to devolve into Aria's wastebasket, where she just sent all the undesirables and beings she'd rather be rid of, but for whatever reason, didn't feel the need to outright kill. Another part of my brain reminded me that that was exactly how I had been allowed to continue living, but I pushed it aside. Those thoughts could come later.
"Alright, people," I said once I'd clambered onto a stack of crates, newcomers damping down the rumble of their talk. "My name is Khentu Emrys."
Murmurs ran through the crowd. Some of the expressions around me were awed, others were just surprised. More than a few gave me obvious 'thought-you'd-be-taller' appraisals.
"Welcome to the Arena," I stated, gesturing to the scene behind me. "You'll be organized into groups and then processed, in order to secure work and quarters for you and your families. They're going to ask you a serious of questions, about who you are, and what you can do. First things first: anyone lies to us is really going to regret it – but not for long. Understand?"
Heads nodded as the warning sank in around the square.
"We need skilled workers," I went on. "Any technicians, programmers, and coders, first and foremost. Blacksmiths too."
Some people were smiling, and others had grave expressions on their faces. I didn't hold any hopes for prodigies or terribly gifted artisans among the group. If there were, Aria's people or the big Upper gangs would have snatched them up for themselves long before they would have made it down here.
"Plumbers, fitters, machinists, bricklayers, carpenters," I went on. "Doctors, nurses, midwives, dentists. Gardeners and farmers too. Line up over there at the desks and give the details."
I paused, looking up and down the line.
"And people," I repeated, "Do. NOT. LIE. We have people that can test to see if you have the skills you claim. You will be tested, and we have very simple punishments for pretenders and liars. It rhymes with 'Slave dollar.'"
I held up the slave collar in a theatrical gesture, just in case the denser among them didn't get the play on words. Serious looks met my gaze.
OK, that's it for the stick, I thought, Now for the carrot.
"If you are afraid to say 'general laborer,' don't worry about a thing," I reassured. "You will be among the most welcome in our group: You'll be well-paid, and well-cared-for, if you're willing to put in a hard shift's work. We've got a lot of work to do and not enough people to do it."
"What if we came down here to fight?" someone called out, and several heads nodded in agreement. I just grinned in reply.
"Then you lot follow me."
A few minutes later, I was standing in a corner of the temporary practice ring that had been set up. It was on these very sands that Patriarch's enemies and prisoners had fought exotic beasts and each other in horribly violent and bloody death matches all those centuries ago, but I felt that this lot didn't necessarily need to be told that bit of historical trivia. Several of them were already being put through their paces by several of the Legends' veteran members. Some were firing at targets, other were cleaning weapons, and others were rolling on the floor in various wrestling and sparring matches. My first Prospect was walking towards me and I brought up my Omni-Tool.
"Name?" I asked, checking him against the list.
"Jonn Whitson," he answered, and Amun-Ra, he sounded young. "This where I come to kick some ass?"
"Depends," I answered, doing my best to suppress a smile at the likelihood of this skinny scarecrow kicking anybody's ass. "Might be where you come to get your ass kicked. A little young to be doing this kind of work, aren't you, kid?"
"I'm old enough," the kid protested, in precisely the tones that made sound even younger. "I grew up on Omega, I know how to handle a gun."
"What District?" I asked.
"Cala," he said. "The Senatoric neighborhood."
I cocked my head sideways, arching a brow at him.
"How the hells does a Senny kid wind up down here?" I asked.
"I went up to Afterlife," he answered, crossing his arms. "Told them to give me a job. They said the best place for me would be down here."
I sighed slightly. Somewhere high above us, Aria's people were probably laughing themselves into stitches over sending this prick down to someone who really couldn't afford to turn away help, however asshole-ish they may be.
"You say you know how to handle that thing?" I asked, my eyes flicking to the gun I could just barely see poking out beneath the leather vest he was wearing.
"Oh, yeah," he said, flourishing the weapon. "I can handle myself. I just spent 50 credits on this beauty, and I wanna use it!"
I got a good look at the weapon even as I winced and pointed the barrel down towards the floor. It was an Elkoss Combine M-4 Shuriken model; a quality weapon, worth every credit. Or at least it had been, maybe five or so years ago.
"I'd be worried about getting your money back." I stated slowly.
"Huh?"
"If you pulled that trigger right now," I snorted, "The only thing you'd kill is yourself."
"Huh?" he repeated, and the kid actually turned the gun to look down the fucking barrel. My hand snapped out, disarming him with two fluid movements before he could manage to kill himself. I held it up, and with the slightest flick of my finger, the rusting actuator and the drained power core… fell out of the weapon.
"What the hell?" Whitson hissed, looking down at the completely useless weapon. "That elcor lied to me! Damn him and his Emporium!"
"Emporium?" I asked. "Harrot's Emporium? In the Afterlife District?"
Good gods, I thought as he nodded, this idiot bought a fucking gun from a furniture salesman.
"Right then, Jonn Witless," I said, "Follow me. We're gonna work on your hand-to-hand."
"I know all about that, too," he answered, the obscene amount of self-confidence leeching back into his tone. "Took two years of jow-ren-ko up on Cala!"
I grinned as I saw him start some kind of martial arts kata to warm up for our bout. I had no idea what jow-ren-ko was, exactly, but based upon his wide, lethargic movements and off-balance lurches, I didn't have anything to worry about.
Well, I thought. At least it might be fun to kick the shit out of him. How he reacts to that will tell if we bother keeping him on or sending him back up the Lift. Or maybe just give him a job busting concrete with a hammer...
Broken Vessel
(Laila Adonis)
Date: 1-23-2185
Location: The Deep Docks
"Get that spirits' damned thing under control!"
I cursed and threw myself sideways, avoiding the stampeding gyga-hen as it tore up the length of the yards. The 9-foot-tall, bipedal flightless bird had no native predators on its home planet, and there were no strong efforts to permanently colonize the place. Which, I supposed, is the reason why the stupid things weren't extinct yet.
Drella shrieked and dove out of the way herself, her biotic barrier dissipating, but the young maiden's meager biotics were still enough to knock the stupid creature sideways. With an incredibly loud squawk, it stumbled and flailed wildly, sending people and crates scattering. The two feet had wicked curved spurs, and the giant bird could kick hard enough to break bones. To say nothing of the needle-like beak that could hit hard enough to do the same.
One lone figure stood in the way of the stampeding animal. The gyga stared at the massive figure, as if its pathetic brain was trying to understand why the unknown creature wasn't moving of its way, when a fist came up in a sudden, blinding strike to the side of the animal's face.
With a loud "Squawwwk," the bird stumbled, falling completely on its side. Nakmor Chell moved with a speed that belied her giant size, seizing the creature's neck and using her considerable body weight to hold it down.
"Hood!" she shouted, "Hood! Where's the damned hood?!"
Three of the dock workers, one of them bleeding from where one of the curved spurs had lacerated him from neck to elbow, moved to throw a massive black bag over the head of the creature. Almost instantly, the wild thrashing ceased, and the animal lay still, breathing hard from its exertions. The now-docile creature was easily led back towards the offending ship from whose hold it had broken free.
Korir Lannex, the captain of the Sujeet, was one of Aria's, hence why he had been trusted to dock at one of the two newly-repaired berths. What couldn't be secured and sent down the Lift was being brought in from off-station. But the Black Queen didn't even have a sense of charity, and I knew for a fact that a ledger existed that kept track of exactly how many credits she had invested in this little venture. The Salarian was apologizing profusely as the bird was being led back into the hold, but that was probably because of the murderous look Chell was shooting his way. This was, in fact, the third such creature to escape from the ridiculously-inadequate cages keeping them in place.
The other ship in dock belonged to Ha'diq Shaka ul Yesh. The Batarian captain of the ship wore the ul Yesh family crest emblazoned on his breastplate and was far more aloof and less talkative.
Not just a follower then, I noted. Family member: cousin or some other close relation.
The nod he gave us, however, was admittedly respectful as we walked over.
"You brought the payment?" I asked, after introductions were made. ul Yesh had owed us several thousand credits for the raw materials Aria had ordered us to sell him (at a much more discounted price than we would have bartered for). They had been intended for the rebuilding of the dockyards and warehouses of Zadith Ban, his newly-acquired stronghold.
"Indeed, ma'am," he nodded. "They are being unloaded as we speak."
I blinked and flicked my mandibles, hoping I'd misheard. "I'm sorry, 'they'?"
The loading bay door came down to create a ramp from the rear of the ship directly onto the dockyard.
"Ancestors," Nakmor Chell swore softly.
In typical Batarian logic, rather than send us precious credits or any other commodity we could actually use, he had chosen to pay his debt with the one thing he had readily available, and more than likely too much of at the moment:
People.
Dozens of collared and shackled individuals were being herded and prodded off the end of the ship, shoved into something like ranks. Maybe these were liberated slaves of Warlords Zaen or Ganar. Maybe these were followers of theirs, captured in the long siege of the last Blood Pack holdout. Spirits, maybe these were just civilians he had just grabbed off the street and thrown into the nearest ship.
"Go get Khentu," I groaned softly. "He'll want to see this for himself."
"He's not going to be happy about it," Chell rumbled. "But then again, none of us are."
As it turned out, 'not happy' was code for 'fucking livid,' in this case.
"This was not in the fucking contract," Khentu hissed as he scrolled through the list of serial numbers identifying each slave.
"It wasn't not in the contract, either," I shrugged, and I tapped a talon on the datapad's far column. "I would bet every credit I have that the Tuhi board's estimated value of each slave adds up to exactly the amount he owes us for the raw materials."
Khentu scrolled down to the totals, and swore softly when he saw I was entirely correct.
"Now I've got to find housing, food, and clothing for…" he sighed, raising an eyebrow at the Batarian captain.
"A hundred and fifty." he answered, being very careful not to show the slightest ounce of amusement at our predicament, and his master's Terminus-style business savvy.
"Almost two hundred more people?" Khentu's posture went rigid, and I could tell he very much wanted to leave this problem to someone else, preferably in favor of going and shooting something.
"The problem," Father Ignatius stated slowly, as he surveyed the ranks upon ranks of mostly human chattel, "is certainly that we can't trust slaves. So the solution, I feel, is obvious…"
"We can't free them," I cut in before he could make the suggestion. He arched an eyebrow at me, and to his credit, kept the emotions on his face from entering into his tone.
"Emancipation is an excellent way to guarantee loyalty," he countered, and any other day, I would have agreed with him.
"Or an excellent way to bring two hundred trained Blood Pack infantry into our midst," Chell answered for me, the Krogan's eyes narrowing as she took in some of the scarred faces among the slaves' ranks. "Half of them could be Scarlet Tears, or Zaen's militia for all we know."
"Surely they're not all…" Ignatius started to protest.
"We can't trust anything they say," Khentu cut him off, and now I could see the wheels in his mind turning as he took in both points of view. "They'll all swear they're as pure as Hathor's Handmaidens. For all we know, Father, these are all of the serial killers, murderers, and rapists from Zadith Ban's prisons that ul Yesh is unloading on us, just so he won't have to deal with them anymore."
The Batarian captain didn't make any comment, but even his choice to keep his stance strictly neutral and non-committal spoke volumes. Whoever ul Yesh had sent us, they were people the new Warlord really didn't want around.
"Then perhaps, a campaign of gradual emancipation is practical?" Ignatius said slowly, nodding in recognition of the facts laid out. "We keep an eye on them for now, but demonstrate that their lot has greatly improved by coming to us. As they see we're serious about our claims, they'll work that much harder to earn our trust and our friendship. And time will also demonstrate who among them are violent, or dangerous, and who need to keep shackled and collared."
Khen looked at the rest of us, and we nodded. It was as good a plan as any. "Very well, Father," he nodded decisively. "See it done."
"Perhaps I should be the one to address them," I cut in. "Seeing as how I have been one in their place, once upon a time."
Khen considered it, and then nodded. I turned on my heel and made my way to the front of the assembled… payment.
"Listen up!" I called out, "All of you!"
Instant silence fell, as their entire focus shifted to me. But then again, a crowd's attention is an easy thing to acquire when the collars on their necks could explode at a touch of a button.
"I know you are frightened, and unsure of your futures here," I continued. "I know, because I was once one of you."
I craned my neck to show the white scar on my neck where my collar had rubbed the flesh beneath it raw. A low hum ran through the crowd as they recognized what it was, along with whispers as those in front hissed the information to those behind who could not see.
"We don't beat or starve slaves for sport here on in the Deeps," I stated. "We don't execute them on a whim, either, or under the least provocation."
I paused, letting words sink in.
"Here, you will find fair treatment, good food, and good homes for you and yours. Father Ignatius and I will be checking you in as you exit the ship," I stated, gesturing to the human priest who had followed me over. "If you have family members or loved ones on this boat with you, let us know, and we will do our best not to separate you.
Show us you can be trusted, and trust shall be given. Show that you deserve freedom, and it will be granted. Act the animal or the savage, and the collars stay on."
Murmurs of surprise arose from the crowd as we walked back towards Khen and Chell, but I didn't miss the suspicious growls and unconvinced glares that followed us. My lover and our krogan enforcer nodded approval at my words as we rejoined them.
"Chell," Khen said next, "Go talk to Korir, and tell him we need to buy those damned giant chickens of his. He's going to tell you first that they're not for sale, and then that he's already secured a buyer elsewhere to try and drive the price up. And I'm telling you that he's a damned liar. Anto up in Afterlife was laughing about the fact that he bought the stupid things in a speculative buy, and now he can't get rid of them. Get them at a reasonable price, and then slaughter them. The fresh meat will help boost morale among the work gangs, and then we can give their freeze-dried rations to this lot here."
"It will be done," the krogan rumbled, and then shot me a wink. "At least something good has come out of this day; we get to kill the damned things."
"Save one for me," I said, feeling a smile creep across my feet. "The one that most recently broke out."
"Not a chance," Chell chuckled as she walked away. "That one's mine."
Author's Note:
Well, we've set out on the second major arc of the story. My sincere thanks to Katkiller-V for acting not only as my beta-reader/editor, but also helping me bounce ideas to keep everything in line with his Another Realm Mass Effect AU. I'm also aiming on these chapters being much longer than before, since we've got more POV storylines to cover.
This story is very different from my other works, and I think that's what is so fun about it. As opposed to my Beacon's Effect series, or my Skyrim series, Khentu is more of a True Neutral character, just trying to survive another day on the meat-grinder that is Omega. It makes for a fun story, and an intriguing character to write.
As always, your thoughts/ suggestions/ constructive criticisms are always welcome in the reviews, or my PMs.
ROCK ON, my friends!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
Arctech - Thanks for the review! Lurkers are always welcome here! Well, it's a fairly traumatic event that both of the Emrys brothers have gone through. And also bear in mind that right now, each of them truly believes that the other is dead. As for the weird threesome thing *shrug* welcome to Omega? But no, that will be a subject for future chapters, not to worry.
BJ Hanssen - I'm sure Patriarch is laughing at Khentu from the afterlife, to be sure. But also remember that Ptolemy and Khentu have a MUCH different relationship than Nasser and Mentu did.
seabo76, Draco Oblivion - Yeah, I'm sure the whole 'Let's team up with Cerberus...AGAIN' plan won't backfire... at all. Yeah, sure. Because it worked so well the first time.
matmac - In reality, the Deep is not really a powerful zone at all. It's the very bottom of the station, far removed from everything else that's going on. But Aria can't afford to leave it empty anymore, given how close an orb came to being shoved up their collective asses. But she also can't commit a whole of her own resources to it, either. So the compromise plan is to give the ruined territory to someone else to clean up, while tightly controlling the Lifts and Docks (the other ways in and out). So essentially, Khentu and the Legends are her vassals, freeing up a lot of her resources and manpower to be committed elsewhere.