Chosen Heir
(Ptolemy Emrys)
Date: 7/11/2185
Location: MSV Strontium Mule, Arinlarkan System, Omega Nebula
I stepped over the figure of the captain, taking in the gore on the bridge of the merchant vessel. The captain had proven remarkably reluctant to give us the codes to the canisters in the loaded cargo bay, but Abdul was a master with his knives, and knew exactly where to cut a man to cause the maximum amount of pain, just shy of death.
"Do you know whose cargo this is?" the dying man gasped. "Do you know who you're stealing from? You dumb bastards, Aria is going to fucking…"
A report from the rifle in Quan's hands ended whatever vague threat the captain was about to make.
"Brave, for an unbeliever," the priest stated admiringly. "He lasted much longer than I thought he would."
"He was a human, after all," Abdul sighed, wiping the blood from his knives. "If he had been a four-eyes, it wouldn't have taken half the time it did."
I snorted in agreement. Batarians, for all their talk of nobility and honor, were quick to betray their comrades and families, and all it took was the promise of stopping the pain. And to Abdul's credit, he always did make the pain stop; with a knife to the main artery of the neck.
We are men of our word, I grinned.
"Divine One," Quan bowed slightly in my direction, "the crew is in the process of moving the cargo into the Duat's hold."
"Very good, beloved of Ra," I replied, watching him flush with pride addressing him by his ceremonial title. "Close the door of the bridge and place guards to ensure we are not disturbed."
Abdul and the priest both gave me strange looks for a moment, and then understanding dawned and two guards were placed outside the bridge before the door was sealed shut again, leaving only the three of us and the corpses on the floor.
"Now we can be assured that we will not be overheard," I stated, still keeping my voice soft. "No matter how many anti-monitoring devices we employ, the Duat is still the property of our allies, and therefore may employ redundant systems for eavesdropping."
"The Son of Ra is Wisdom itself," Quan bowed low, while Abdul merely grinned with amusement.
"We have made good progress these past few weeks," he stated, "but the fact remains…"
"That our recruitment method is too slow," I finished for him. "That the children of Amun-Ra are too few in the Terminus Systems."
Both of my captains merely nodded.
"What is the status of our own… crew?" I asked.
"Several of our more recent converts are former crewmen of various ships," Abdul answered. "They are familiar with the engine and propulsion systems of the Duat. At… need," he stated, stressing the word, "They could monitor and manage them without the help of our allies."
"Hannah Rollins is a skilled pilot in her own right," Quan added. "She reports that she is confident that she could occupy the helm… at need."
"So that leaves only the navigation systems and the stealth drives that our people are wholly ignorant of," I said, nodding slowly. I reached up a hand to stroke the beard on my chin, waxed and oiled to a fine point, as benefiting my new status as a true Pharaoh. "Have Rollins find two or three willing Arrows, and begin running them through the basics of ship control. If… need arises, I am not comfortable with only one Arrow being able to fly the ship."
"As Pharaoh commands," Abdul bowed his chin in acknowledgement.
"Quan," I continued, "I want you and two or three of your closet cadre to get your hands on the technical readouts of the navigation system the Duat employs. Study them as if your lives depended on it. If the Day of Need arises, they very well might."
"It shall be done, Voice of the Sun," Quan bowed in turn.
"And the stealth drive, my Pharaoh?" Abdul asked. I inhaled deeply through my nose, and let the breath out slowly.
"That will be exceedingly more difficult," I admitted. "But it is several years old by now, and probably only useful against the most basic of colonial detection grids. If we run into a Batarian war group, or hunting pack, it will most likely do us little or no good. We should not complicate the plan or waste man-hours trying to decipher an obsolete system."
"As Pharaoh commands," the pair repeated, and then we strode out to rejoin the rest of the group. I waved aside salutes and gestures of respect from armored figures carrying heavy crates from the captured merchantman to the Duat. At the end of the hallway, a comparatively slender man stood in a white uniform with black trim, with a gold emblem on his shoulder.
"Captain Markham," I stated in greeting.
"Mr. Emrys," he replied, and then paused as a rumble of disapproval rumbled through the Arrows in immediate earshot. But if the man was intimidated by the half-dozen or so glares shot his direction, he did not show it. He did, however, slowly cast his gaze back at me.
"Pharaoh," he corrected himself, his heels clicking together in a military salute. The giving of my title was, as always, carefully even and respectful. "If I may impose upon your time, there is someone who wishes to speak to you in the Communications Hub."
"Oh?" I asked.
"From Earth, sir."
Ahhh… finally.
"Lead on, then," I nodded, gesturing forward. We moved slowly through the merchantman, stepping over the bodies of its former crew. Passing through the narrow hatchway took us back into the Duat's entryway, where the converted Turian Q-ship had docked with the unsuspecting Strontium Mule. The Earther crewmembers snapped to their feet as their captain passed, giving carefully-measured salutes that would have done a Turian field-marshal proud.
I felt myself nodding in silent approval of the discipline that Markham had been able to maintain amongst his own crew. My people, or at least most of them, followed me out of a sense of worship or awe. His crew seemed to genuinely follow their captain as if they were on the deck of an Alliance flagship, rather than members of a glorified pirate vessel.
The Communications Hub was a separate room that could be closed off from the rest of the ship, in order to give absolute privacy to the ship's conversations. The integrated quantum entangler was the one piece of modern technology that had been retrofitted into the older ship's designs, making it impossible for any eavesdropper into our conversations to trace our exact location in space. The entangler engaged with a loud humming noise as Captain Markham stood courteously by the door, and then exited as the lights in the room dimmed, closing the door behind him.
The holographic projector buzzed to life, slowly bringing the figure of a well-dressed man seated in a chair, smoking a cigarette. The eyes, however, were the most striking thing about him: they glistened and gleamed a bright blue, visible even in the low-res of the holo-call.
Prosthetic implants, my mind told me, even as my mind tried to put together who this could possibly be.
"Mr. Emrys," the man said, giving me a polite nod in greeting. "I felt that it was past time that the two of us had a conversation, face-to-face… so to speak."
"You have me at a disadvantage, sir," I answered, trying my best to look nonchalant. "Forgive the bluntness of the question but… who are you?"
"You would know me as the Illusive Man," the figure answered, and memory filled the rest of the blanks.
"You're the leader of Cerberus," I stated, my mind racing as to why someone so high up the chain of command could be contacting me directly. The entire time since we'd arrived on Tortuga, I'd been dealing with third-party intermediaries or low-level flunkies.
"Cerberus is an idea, Mr. Emrys," the Illusive Man said with a draw of the cigarette he held. "It is a belief, a conviction, and a goal. Far beyond the scope of any one man's leadership or ambitions."
"The orders we've been carrying out have been unambiguous enough," I grinned. "Doesn't strike me as the result of committee discussions."
"Your contract work has brought your… organization to the attention of many in Cerberus," the Illusive Man replied, carefully not answering my statement and not calling my group a weird proto-Egyptian cult.
"I have good people around me," I shrugged. "And your Captain Markham has also proven equally skilled."
"No doubt," the man nodded. "I have a business proposition for you, Mr. Emrys; an extension of your current contract, if you will."
"I'm listening," I said cautiously.
"Are you familiar with the Haskins System?"
I paused for a moment, trying to determine where I had heard the name before.
"The Titan Nebula," I nodded finally. "That's on the very edge of the galaxy. Cessa the Blade's territory."
"There is a Hahne-Kadar R&D facility located on the planet Capek that the corporation was forced to evacuate with the breakout of the Blood Pack War."
A picture of some kind of aerial photograph of the compound, along with a text file, appeared on a holographic screen between us. I studied it for a moment, and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"And you'd like us to…?"
"According to our intelligence assets, the facility has not been occupied by any other parties or groups in the region," he explained. "We would like for the Duat to take your party there and ensure that that particular situation continues."
"You want to secure a… mech fabrication facility?" I asked. "For what purpose?"
"Captain Markham will be ferrying several mechanics and technical experts to the facility over the next several months," the Illusive Man explained. "We'd like your unit to provide security and garrison duties."
"With respect… sir," I replied, "Why us? Why trust this operation to a gang of… ex-Omega pirates?"
The Illusive Man took another long drag at the cigarette, a puff of smoke surrounding his face before he answered.
"We both know what you're building is far greater in scope than that… Pharaoh."
When I made no reply, he continued. "You are a man of vision, Emrys. Cerberus can always utilize individuals with initiative and dedication. You are a man who inspires loyalty and devotion. In the six months you have been attached to the Duat, you have increased your followers from sixteen to eighty-seven. Quite the accomplishment, considering you're in the middle of a Terminus warzone."
"I am fighting to protect my own kind," I heard my voice hiss bitterly before I could stop myself. "In a sector of the galaxy where we are viewed and preyed upon as only chattel, or worse."
"And that," the Illusive Man stated, with a grim determination on his face, "is exactly why Cerberus exists. Men like you and I, Mr. Emrys, can see the writing on the wall: that the only hope for peace and security for humanity is to ensure that the rest of the galaxy respects us. And true respect, as we both know, is born of fear."
I nodded slowly, my mind racing as I processed his offer and his words. Respect born of fear was a way of life to anyone born on Omega. Those who did not command the respect of others found themselves under their bootheels. As for the compound, it was small enough, and Capek was insignificant enough, that such a plan could go without detection. And such a compound would be perfect to train the new recruits into something more closely resembling soldiers than pirates.
"If my men are to provide the security for a secret facility in the middle of a warlord's like Cessa the Blade's territory," I said at last, "Then I will need to hold the final word of command in the station. Unequivocally, and beyond contestation."
Another long pull on the cigarette.
"Done."
Now time to see how far this… Illusive Man trusts me.
"And I will need to be read into whatever project will be taking place at the compound," I continued. "If I am to protect your technicians and their project, I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with."
Now a ghost of a smile broke across the Illusive Man's face, and with a flick of a finger, the cigarette ash wafted to the ground, and more images and text appeared between us. The primary illustration resembled a basic HK-LOKI mech, only with a shitload of armored plating added, along with a massive rifle integrated into the right arm.
"This, Mr. Emrys," the Illusive Man explained, "is Project Rampart."
Broken Vessel
(Laila Adonis)
Date: 7/12/2185
Location: The Arena, The Deeps, Omega
"I still think you should wait, Waz."
Wasilla gave me a sidelong glance as she walked back and forth across her room, assembling her armor and weapons.
"And I still think you're a mother vex-cat, trying to take care of all her little kittens," she smiled, swapping out the long barrel of her rifle for a shorter one. "We've all got to leave the den sometime, Laila."
"I am NOT…" I began but paused as I heard my voice going shrill. I took a moment to collect my thoughts and center my emotions. "I just think a long patrol like this will be hard on you. Milosa said…"
"Milosa couldn't patch her way out of a goddess-damned papercut," Wasilla hissed. "And if she wasn't a useful way to feed misinformation and half-truths to her superiors in the Talons, Khen would have had her replaced with a real doctor long ago."
"That doesn't mean she's wrong," I hissed right back. "The stupidest maiden on Thessia could tell you what happens when you expend that much biotic energy."
"And it's been months of rest with practically no biotics at all," Wasilla replied, changing her tone as easily as some people change their shoes.
"Months with occasional blackouts and out-of-the-blue hallucinations."
"Hey," Waz stabbed a finger in my direction. "It's been weeks since any of that shit happened. Weeks."
"I just think you need to take it easy," I tried in a more gentle tone.
"I'm the only one around here who's capable of doing so," she snorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, flaring my mandibles wide.
"Oh please," Waz sighed, shrugging out of a shirt, "Khentu goes back and forth from avoiding responsibility entirely and shouldering all of it at once. You react by trying to take all the workload from his shoulders. Then he reacts by going out and getting more work to do, and so the vicious cycle of stress and overwork continues."
"Fine, I'll give you more to do," I grinned, earning a mock glare from my asari… lover? Partner? Friend with benefits?" All these months, and I still couldn't categorize our relationship.
"Not even remotely what I meant," Waz grinned back. "Come on, Laila, I'm going crazy just wandering around this giant cast-iron circus. I'm a sniper, for Goddess' sake. I need to get out there in the action, or whatever passes for action this far down Omega."
"If this is about what Khen said the other day…" I began.
"Lover," Waz cut me off, "You and Khen are both wonderful idiots of people. If I got mad anytime you did something stupid or Khen said something stupid, I'd've offed myself weeks ago. No, my job here is to remind you that 'no' is a perfectly good answer, especially to yourselves and each other."
"Isn't it usually one of us telling her 'No,' most evenings?"
The two of us turned to give unamused glances at the male standing in the doorway. Khentu's smile slowly faded, and a more serious look came over his face.
"Laila does have a point, Waz. The medical center said…"
"Not to overdo my biotics, yes," nodded Wasilla. "And I don't intend to."
"Since when have your intentions ever affected your actions?"
That earned him a jab in the gut that left him wheezing as the air exited his lungs. Chuckling, I leaned forward and tossed the small device onto the desk.
"Just…wear the biotic suppressor, OK Waz?" I asked. "That will keep you from instinctively reacting to something and then frying your brain."
Waz looked down at the device, back up at me, and then down at the still-winded Khen.
"Ugh, fine."
She reached over and puts it on the thin band of metal around her neck, the suppressant band gleaming blue as it activated.
"There, you happy?"
I reached out and wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her close with a purr of my sub-harmonics.
"More than I've ever been," I said gently. "Or at least, as happy as I can be with all of us being quasi-prisoners down here."
"Hey, the Fury should be back from drydock next week," Waz smiled. "Then you can hop on to go on a pleasure cruise to anywhere you want to go."
"Others may, I may not," Khentu groaned, getting back to his feet, "Aria gave me the Deeps to run. She would probably take it very personally if I left them to someone else."
"You see?" Waz rolled her eyes, along with her shoulder, "This is exactly what I'm talking about."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that the two of you are only happy when you're overworked, overcommitted, and sleep-deprived to the point of passing out on your feet. Delegate, for the love of the goddess."
"I do delegate!" Khen objected. "For Ra's sake, you know me: I try to pawn off as much of this shit on other people as I can!"
"Then why haven't you made Muerta a full captain yet? She's capable and uses her head for something other than a helmet rest."
"Because she's…"
"Put her in charge of the training regimen, and have her report to you. You're the goddess-damned Lord, stop micromanaging the small shit."
"But…" I began, but she merely held up a hand.
"Now I'm leading this patrol so JJ can finally get some rest and relaxation and for the Goddess' sake, maybe unwind long enough to get laid," she continued, "So don't you dare give him any of the shit I usually take care of. Ignatius and those newly-arrived priests have the kitchens and the school well in hand. Anything else comes up, Osman is stumbling over his dick with his massive crush on Khentu, utilize his incredible need to please."
"I'm not gonna… I'm sorry, his crush on who?" Khentu asked, trying to keep up.
"Please, nobody is that oblivious," Waz rolled her eyes.
"Remember who we're talking about," I chuckled. "Trust me, he has no clue."
"My point is that we've good people down here," Wasilla said, putting on her shoulder piece to complete her suit of light armor. "Use them."
"You're one of those good people," Khentu replied. "And there are a dozen folk I could assign patrol duty."
"I refer you to the 'I WILL go crazy if I don't get out of here' portion of our conversation," she chuckled, picking her helmet and tucking it under her arm.
"But what if…"
Wasilla cut Khentu off by reaching out a hand and pulling him into a kiss. Then she reached out a hand to me. I sighed, but pushed off the wall and walked forward to take the offered hand.
Embrace Eternity.
Like a warm blanket wrapped around our shoulders, we slid into our customary meld. It wasn't a deep meld, apparently; Waz had said that was too difficult for her to do with two non-asari. But it was enough that the emotions of the three of us flowed from one to another, unfiltered and unashamed.
Kindness.
Caring.
Concern.
Thankfulness.
The sorrow of friends lost and the joy of loved ones held close mixed together in the cacophony of emotions and feelings that each of these sessions brought up. To be honest, there were many nights that nobody even had sex. We would just sit here, the three of us, holding each other close, basking in each other's emotions and thanking whatever deities or afterlife each of us believed in that we still had each other, after losing so many and so much.
There were tears in each of our eyes as Waz ended the meld and brought us back to the real world, slowly and deliberately. Whether they were tears of joy or sorrow, we could not say. Perhaps both.
"There," Waz said, a hand quickly dabbing at the corner of her own eyes. "That should be enough to tide you two over until I come back."
"Wasilla…"
"It's just three shifts, Laila," she said, laying a finger on my forehead. "I'll be back before you know it. What could possibly go wrong?"
Interlude
Location: Kima Lower Lift, Kima District, Omega
Maya B'Theran, leader of the Maw's Wrath, looked left and right, overseeing the construction of the makeshift elevator platform. This lift had been inoperable for centuries, probably since the days of Patriarch. However, slowly but surely, the Maw's Wrath had made slow progress, clearing away the rubble, replacing the broken gearwork, and most difficult of all, constructing the massive platform that would support their descent into the Deeps.
"I still say this is a karking waste of time, Maya."
Maya glared at the batarian speaking, but Karan ul Wassitok was one of the few Maws who didn't wilt under her eyes. But then again, that probably was because they'd been bondmates for the past decade.
"The True Sons were wiped out wholesale," she sighed, raising a hand to massage her temple. "Those Doru bekwa came down like they owned the place and ripped them apart. Burned them out their little compound like pyjaks in a burrow.
""They were all idiotic assholes anyway," Karan shrugged, "Are we really shedding tears for those chenethic bastards? Who cares?"
"I care, you miserable excuse for a sand-monkey," Maya retorted. "Because I'm looking to the future. They were wiped out because two large Upper gangs woke up one morning and decided that they shouldn't keep breathing anymore. They struck without warning, without mercy, and without remorse."
Maya turned and looked eyes with her bondmate.
"So what, dear Karan, is to stop them from deciding that the Maw's Wrath is next? Who's to say who will be next on their list?"
"So we're running?" the warrior-caste batarian hissed through his teeth. "Burrowing in the sand and hoping the rest of the station passes us by?"
"Our only hope," Maya continued, ignoring the question entirely, "is to make ourselves indispensable to Aria. And the only operation of real value south of Cala is the Deep Docks. We take the Docks, we have it all: a dock for shipping, a foundry for income, and a direct line to Aria."
"But the Legends," Karan replied, squinting his lower set of eyes, "Aria gave them the Deeps personally. If we…"
"Aria doesn't give a shit about anyone down there," Maya cut him off. "If she did, she wouldn't have sent them down there. As long as she gets her cut and the shipments keep moving, she couldn't care less about who is physically manning what districts this far down."
"Boss?"
Maya raised the Omni-Tool.
"Go ahead, Milo."
"Ma'am, Group 1 has reached the bottom. They say there's a Pillars-ton of rubble to clear, but they've established that there is a route to the main Docks from the lift's end."
"Excellent," the asari purred. "Hold position and wait for us there."
She turned back to her bondmate, whose face was still serious and contemplative.
"Gather the men," she said slowly, and her expression hardened into a predatory grin. "We're going hunting."
Author's Note:
Now we begin to see that not even the Deeps is a "safe" place on Omega.
And we get a look at what Tol and the Arrows have been up to for these several months.
I'm excited as we begin to move into the next section of the story, and with the help of Katkiller-V, whose world and beta-reading skills I'm shamelessly taking advantage of, I hope to be finishing up the exciting conclusion of this story soon.
As always, your thoughts/ suggestions/ constructive criticisms are welcome in the reviews below or in my PMs, even if it's only as simple as "Good chapter, I liked it." I really appreciate anytime a reader takes the time to leave a review!
ROCK ON, my friends!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
Arctech- This is Omega, my friend: There's always plenty of action around the corner, and it's coming to the Deeps VERY soon.
BJ Hanssen - Katkiller-V makes references to "the salarians' new Ark-ship" in a few of his works, but Andromeda is not mentioned by name. Plus, I'm basically denying that the train-wreck of a game ever happened in the first place. ;)
Ty13rwhy - Thanks very much, my friend!
seabo76 - Krogan always make any society more interesting. More bloody and gratuitously violent, yes, but also more interesting.
EE-RAH!