Chosen Heir
(Ptolemy Emrys)
Date: 10/22/86
Location: Faryar Asteroid Belt, Faryar System, Hourglass Nebula
"There it is," Taggart cheered, pointing with his chin. "Looks like our intel was good."
"Amun Ra," someone breathed slowly.
"If I hadn't seen it for myself I never would have believed it," Quan admitted, shaking his head.
What we were seeing was a hulking trawler, with a half-dozen automated barges slave-rigged to its navigational system. Relative to us, the vessel appeared far below, drifting below the asteroid belt without anything resembling a major escort. But then, the ships weren't supposed to need one; this was the heart of a warlord's territory, a warlord well known for being Aria's ally and not someone whose ships were ever threatened.
"This is still an insane plan," I stated, almost breathlessly as I contemplated what we were about to do.
"Glad you liked it," Taggert grinned widely at me. "Now, we have to time this just…. Now."
Shoving off a solid platform into the emptiness of space was always an unnerving sensation. With the Duat, we could have ordered the convoy to heave-to and boarded her in minutes. Of course, that would have been plenty of time for them to send off a distress signal, complete with a description of the vessel what had dared to steel from the Steel King, probably including everything they could find out about her crew as well. And that would have killed my plans before they were even made.
The massive trawler grew larger and larger through our helmet's visors, coming closer and closer at unnerving speed.
"Annnnnd…. Now," I heard Taggart hiss. "Magnetize, MAGNETIZE!"
Each of us clutched at the massive electromagnet fixed to each of our chests, pulling it free and then engaging the hand-held device. I felt a distinct pull as the magnet shifted my trajectory through space. My path, which would have taken just past the massive vessel, shifted, and felt myself bracing for the inevitable…
OOMPH.
A dozen exclamations, about half-and-half curses and thanksgiving, escaped from the figures who slammed safely into the side of the passing ship.
"Move quickly," I stated, locking my boots to the side of the ship as well. "We only have a short window."
We advanced across the decking, until Quan waved us over, grouping up as one of our number planted another square plate on her back to the entry port. She typed a command key into the Breach-Load, and then motioned us all back. The hull door opened, a rush of air escaping out the door, as well as several dark shapes, ejected into the cold vacuum of space.
"Move in," I stated finally, after several seconds of silence. Slowly, our magnetized boots brought us inside the vessel, and there were a few moments of violently- disorienting nausea as our bodies adjusted to the ship's internal artificial gravity.
"Sarah," I nodded, and the Blood Arrow in question shifted to the door, and the hatched closed once more, locking us within our newly-acquired ship. Its former occupants had just met an untimely and unexpected demise, sucked into the merciless expanse. But with any luck that had also meant that they hadn't had any time to sound any alarms or send distress signals either. With a few more buttons, life support was restored, and I reached over to send the confirmation signal.
To my immense relief, six confirmation signals answered, showing that all of the other boarding crews had achieved safe landings as well, except they hadn't even had to worry about any crew members aboard their vessels.
"Sever the navigational drive uploads," I ordered, and the Arrows with me moved to obey. "Transponders?"
"Disabled, Divine One," came the answer.
I then opened a general channel to my newly-acquired fleet:
"Blood Arrows," I transmitted, "Hear the words of your Pharaoh: You have done well, beyond even our most optimistic projections."
Smiles and nods were exchanged around the dozen crew I had with me, and amongst the others too, I had no doubt.
"From here we split up, going our separate ways back to Capek. Run your engines as little as possible, running only on inertial power. That will take more time, yes, but it will also prevent any casual scans from detecting you."
It would, in fact, turn a three-day trip into something more like three weeks, but we had planned for it, and each team was prepared. Heinrich Bauer was not going to take the loss of an entire convoy lightly, and I had no doubt that patrols were going to be sweeping over the corners of the Terminus, looking for his lost prize. But they would be looking for a convoy, and for a group of pirates stupid enough to steal from one of Aria's closest allies.
"We've taken an entire convoy of the Steel King's product," I continued. "There is enough raw materials on these ships to build a battle-cruiser of our own. But instead, it will be the army with which we shall reclaim our homeland. Pharaoh Out."
Omega's Child
(Khentu Emrys)
Date: 12/20/86
Location: Argent Towers, Targa Horde HQ
On Khar'shan, the Targa move in great herds down the rivers, in constant search for new grazing lands. According to Syed and Chell, who had hunted them personally, they are fiercely intelligent and cunning and, when threatened, will stop at nothing until the perceived threat is dead.
Their namesakes on Omega, on the other hand, were both predictable and stupid. Areli Sukkoth's attempt to pull together a rival alliance against the Legends had been a classic tale of 'too little, too late.' She had trusted in the Targa Horde's size to ensure their survival, though had she been facing only the Legends, she might have been correct.
Unfortunately for her, she wasn't, and facing the full might of the Legends Cartel they were woefully outnumbered. Bit by bit, street by street, the Targa had been forced back, and they had chosen this building structure to make their final stand.
"Lord Emrys," Syed chuckled, flexing the joints of his makeshift battle-armor, "We have her cornered, like an animal in a cage."
"That is the time animals become the most dangerous," I replied, looking up at the two giant structures that made up the Argent Towers.
"Well said," Syed grunted approvingly. "Nonetheless, the Moon Runners insist that they be allowed command of the vanguard."
"They want to go in first?" I snorted, "Amun-Ra, I thought I was going to have to volunteer somebody. Yeah, give them the go-ahead."
Syed clicked a button on the holo-screen projected by his left arm. A group to our left began sprinting forward, commendably staying low and darting back and forth between the rubble.
"They've gotten smarter," Chell observed, watching their formation advance through the defensive fire.
"It's a numbers game," I shrugged. "The stupid ones and the heroes die first, and now the only ones left are the ones with good survival instincts."
"They won't last long under that crossfire," Syed interjected. "Heavies in the center?"
"No," I shook my head. "We'd lose half of them, and I need your lot to ensure that this mob actually disperses and goes home when I tell them to. Send Muerta and her group. Tell them to keep up a steady pressure. I don't want or need any heroic deeds of daring-do, just draw their fire a little while longer."
Syed turned to give the order, and Chell gave me an approving look. "Hoping Far'red and the Tombs get their tunnel working?"
"That or give Jesse's team time to get into a position to cable in from above," I nodded.
Fighting with the Blood Arrows had meant that almost always, we were going up against superior numbers. We were always on the back foot, always at a disadvantage. Plus, on top of that, the gang wars up on Doru had been, until Uncle Nasser's return, exchanges involving only a few dozen fighters on each side at most. And even in Yulaz's invasion, and the fighting since then, I was in direct command of only a few hundred people.
Now, I was dealing in huge strategic battles spread over dozens of blocks of Kima on multiple levels at once, directing the better part of six thousand fighters from about a dozen different gangs into their various positions and roles in the larger battle. It wasn't something I was used to, I had to confess, though the ease in which Syed had stepped into a greater advising role was probably something to think hard about.
"Emrys, come in."
"Go ahead, Muerta," I spoke into the comm. "What's the situation?"
"They're throwing waves of slaves at us right now," came the answer. "Some of them don't even have guns, just grenades. She's using them as some kind of a fucked-up version of artillery, driving us back down Carha Street."
"That means she's desperate," I answered, and saw both krogan nod in agreement. "We gotta give her an opening she thinks she can use. Fall your people back to the Wauja hostels and link up with the Lost Legion."
"Acknowledged. Moving- Fuck you, you stinking bosh'tet- Moving out."
The interruption had been punctuated with shotgun shots, and I grinned as I cut the comm.
"Do you think she will take the bait?" Chell asked.
"She can't afford not to," Syed answered for me, shrugging. "Her only chance of victory is to inflict enough casualties upon us for us to offer favorable terms."
"Let's go make our trap even more irresistible, then," I stated. "Shields on me."
We pushed forward towards the rendezvous point I had given Muerta, several of the smaller gangs falling in step alongside us. Chell's visor slammed down into place, and she lifted her massive shotgun at the ready. On the other side, Syed was arming the Cutter rifle he had welded onto his exo-suit, along with a half-dozen other toys and surprises.
The Targa Horde that had been attempting to take advantage of Muerta's retreat were now suddenly facing a massive wave of reinforcements. To their credit, they still contested every square inch of ground, rather than falling back in a panic.
Guess attrition works in her favor, too, I thought as brought down a turian attempting to flank us. We've killed all her inept people as well. Only veterans and capable members left.
Suddenly, there was a panicked voice on the radio as someone shouted, "Code Snake! CODE SNAKE!"
A group of asari in close formation all flash-stepped forward in unison, half of them launching warps and the other half creating a barrier as they advanced. The quality of their armor would have been dead giveaway as to who they were, even without the figure at their head slicing some poor bastard clean in half with a glowing wave-sword.
It made a rough sort of sense, I supposed: I was the public face and figurehead of the Legend Cartel. If Areli was lucky enough to kill me, the whole thing might destabilize, or at least enough for her to make a quick deal with my successor.
I allowed myself a heavy sigh as I brought up my Omni-Tool and bright orange tech armor blossomed in front of me. Seemed like every poor dumb bastard on this level had fever dreams of taking me on in a one-on-one fight. All my fights and tussles with my brother had taught me exactly how to fight a biotic: hit hard and fight dirty. And I had zero time for her wave-sword, martial-biotic-arts bullshit.
To be honest, I wasn't a big fan of the flash-forged armor around me. It was a cast-off Eclipse model, and even though most salarians were enthusiasts for it, the truth was it didn't provide that much more protection that a good, quality suit of reinforced plate. And it had the added disadvantage of lighting you up on a battlefield like a signal flare.
Which was exactly what I wanted it to do in this moment: If there was any doubt in Areli Sukkoth's mind as to if Khentu Emrys really was here, I had just erased it. I was the staked-out goat in this particular scenario, and the varren was closing in fast.
Three more of my side went down, clutching at missing limbs or opened torsos with every flick of her wrists. Her personal guard were hard-pressed to keep up with her, and one of them went down as she shielded her mistress from a shotgun blast to her back. Areli's focus was entirely on me as she shrugged off most of the firepower I was sending her way.
"Now."
A staggered line of stasis mines and nullifier grenades went off simultaneously, scattering everyone around in a confused haze of dust, concrete shards, and dissipated dark energy.
The sword-waving asari stumbled and clutched at her head as she tumbled out of the flash step that was supposed to take her past me and relieve me of my head. In that crucial moment, Chell's massive figure moved with deceptive quickness, raising her shotgun behind the right side of the asari's head
Areli Sukkoth died instantly, quickly followed by her all-asari unit of bodyguards. Without their overwhelming biotics, they were just folk in light armor, in the middle of a gods-damned firefight. Cutter rifles barked, and several of them were literally turned into meat confetti. The others were bought down with small-arms fire, and occasionally clubbed rifles and bayonets.
I couldn't really blame them. They had probably bet that nobody this far down the station had even heard of high-tech shit like nullifier grenades, much less have them. And she would have been right, except for the Legends' direct trade link to the Uppers via the Deep Lifts. It had still cost me almost double the market rate to acquire the dozen or so that we had just expended in a matter of seconds. However, given how total their surprise was, it looked like they had been worth every credit.
I hoped that there wouldn't be any more of her kind among what remained of the Horde's ranks: this kind of trick only worked once. And we didn't have too any more of those magical, biotic-stopping grenades.
"All brigades, Snake's Head is down," I called in, "I repeat, Snake's Head is down. All brigades, status report."
"Khentu."
"Go ahead, Jesse."
"We have secured the West Tower," the drell reported. "It would seem that Sukkoth had gambled most of what she had left on the offensive against you."
"This is the Tombs," Far'red's voice cut in. "We're through the basements of the East Tower, but we're still encountering heavy resistance going up."
"Acknowledged," I replied. "Jesse, hold your position, and lay whatever fire support you can against the East Tower. Marcus, Karaj, divert every fire-team you can towards the East Tower."
"Holding position."
"Acknowledged, Emrys."
"Will do, boss."
I turned to Muerta as the quarian glowed brightly, slamming a batarian in Horde armor against a nearby pillar.
"Push your brigade forward towards the East Tower," I stated. "Give quarter to everyone that asks for it. These bastards fought well, and it's not their fault they were on the wrong side."
I turned and began striding towards the distant sounds of gunfire.
"Clean whatever's left of this mess up."
Broken Vessel
(Laila Adonis)
Date: 1/01/87
Location: The Deep Docks, The Deeps, Omega
The new year was an exciting time for the Legends of the Deep, and the entire cartel, for that matter. The entire station was abuzz with news: apparently, the Hegemony had erupted into a third civil war, the shaky peace established only a few months ago falling apart into bloody chaos and madness. This had come right on the heels of both Xentha and Eclipse declaring themselves their own independent states, with Cynthi T'Ravt and Jona Sederis as their queens. It seemed that the Terminus' careful balance threatened to erupt into open war at any second.
Closer to home, however, there had been more news from what had been about half of Little Egypt, now the Illium Minor red district. The Silver Blades Corporation had been formally ceded ownership of the Yeketerina system by the Citadel Council way the fuck out in the Traverse, and they were pulling out of all their other stations towards their new holdings. This included their holdings on Omega, to everyone's surprise. Already the Tersatani were slowly being phased in to the maintenance and security patrols, and the SBC was pulling out as quickly as they could manage, leaving the all-asari gang holding their territory, and our scrapyard contracts.
Predictably, Khentu had only shrugged at this news and continued with business as usual. I had to confess that that was a great relief to me. Any turian and their sense of honor would have dictated an eventual return to his ancestors' burial place, or revenge against those who had ended their lives. Khen, on the other hand, seemed to care more about his future, and those of our people.
Another reason you love him, some part of my brain informed me, Practicality over appearances.
Of course, these days Khentu and I did not see much of one another, much to my personal regret. Ignatius and I had little interest in Kima and our expansion plans there, and Khentu had put us in charge of the Deeps and our constantly on-going rebuilding efforts as a result. The priest and his Earth-born colleagues had thrown themselves into the humanitarian side of it all, and the growth of his little 'congregation' reflected that.
I shook my head to return my thoughts to the present. Currently, a half-dozen ships were unloading various cargos, most of them bound directly for the Lift and the Uppers. Others, however, were being unloaded for local trade, which was a promising sign. A few more months and we should-
"Laila!"
The scream was deafening, and it was followed by a howl of anguish. I spun on my heel, seeing a batarian party unloading a groupof slaves, with one of them halfway between me and the taskmaster, who had brought up an Omni-Tool and ended the slave's sprint towards me. The human was writhing in pain from what had to be a neural lace.
And then the face turned back towards me... and I felt a very cold chill run down my spine.
"Tess? What in the spirits holy names?" I felt my pistol rise before I was even conscious that I had drawn the weapon, pointed at the figure of the batarian taskmaster. "Shut. It. Off."
The batarian looked as if she was about to object to my demand, but then there came the distinct sound of half a dozen rifles being armed and leveled in her direction. Very slowly, she pressed a button on the Omni-Tool, and Tess' moans ceased.
"The human is the property of my master, Ha'diq ul Ajin," the batarian female drawled in the throaty Camala accent. "I will not permit you to take…"
"I have no intention of taking any of Ha'diq ul Ajin's property," I clarified, forcing my pistol back into its holster with an act of will. I knelt down beside her and a hand reached out to seize my wrist in an iron grip.
"They took him!" she gasped. "Laila, they took him.."
"Who?"
"My son!" she answered, and the look she gave me was devoid of any of the panic or uncertainty I remembered seeing the last time I looked into them.
They were filled with only the cold and hard rage of a mother rahth-bear having lost her cub.
I rose to my feet. "Whitson."
The young human came running, giving a Legends salute.
"Get on the comm," I ordered. "Get Lord Emrys down here. Now. Tell him that his brother's woman is at the Docks."
Jonn's eyes went wide and he looked the still-kneeling woman, and back to me. "At once, ma'am."
And then he was gone, as fast as his feet could carry him. I turned back to the female taskmaster.
"This woman had a child with her," I stated evenly. "I will purchase both him and her, at any reasonable price your master can name."
The batarian woman looked pensive, to say the least.
"These slaves have already been sold," she answered evenly. "I could not do such a thing, even if I wanted to. I do not promise what I cannot deliver. And I cannot break an agreement my masters have already made."
"If I may?"
I turned my head to see Medal ul Hederas standing there in his priestly robes. However, I did not fail to see how the woman's head went instinctively to the left at the sight of someone from Medal's caste.
"If this human truly is kin to the Emrys," he began, and I gave another nod in confirmation, "then perhaps you may inform your masters that the Lord of Legends wishes to pay vyk'yaz."
The word made both of us pause for a moment. The 'Redemption price' was a concept that dated back to Old Khar'shan, when the batarian tribes raided one another for captives. Whether or not modern ha'diqs would recognize such a right would probably depend on if they were members of the conservative or liberal factions of their religion.
The female taskmaster looked at first the human woman on the ground, then back to me, and then to the priest again.
"I… will relay a message to my superiors," she said at last.
"Thank you," I sighed, trying to keep the sheer relief from my voice.
*SOME TIME LATER*
Tessa Jackson clutched the young boy to her chest, almost ignoring the whimpers of fear coming from the child. Once we had secured both of them, I had immediately ordered them taken to Arena. I sat down beside them, unsure of what to say. There were a thousand questions running through my mind, but I couldn't give voice to any of them. Most of them involved the boy…
The scars behind his ears showed that he too had been subjected to the insertion of a neural control lace. I knew for turians, at least, that could be severely damaging if they were too young. And, given that the tiny boy couldn't have been older than three, there was no telling what kind of long-term effects that would have.
Just when I was beginning to work up the courage to ask a question, the door opened with a bang that caused everyone to start violently. Khentu burst in, his eyes already scanning the room. Tessa gave a small gasp as the two of them locked gazes. It was only then that I remembered that the last time she saw him, he was still the fairly happy-go-lucky boy of Little Egypt. Now that boy was replaced with the scarred, war-torn leader of the Deeps.
"Tess!"
A moment later the woman was wrapped up in one of Khentu's signature bone-crushing hugs, and I could see tears in the corners of their eyes.
"Wha… wha… how?" Khentu asked. "We thought… I thought… Ptolemy said… Oh, gods, Ptolemy…"
Tess held a hand up to stop him.
"I know," she cut him off. "I… we heard about what had happened."
The sound of a clearing throat drew our attention, and Father Ignatius gestured towards the young child. "Perhaps you would prefer to continue this conversation out of range of young ears?"
Tess nodded wordlessly, and Ignatius went on one knee in front of the child.
"And what is your name, little one?"
The boy hid his face behind his mother's leg at the strangers voice.
"It's alright, Alexander," Tess reassured him, giving a ghost of a smile for the first time since she got here. "You go on, honey. Momma's gonna be right here."
Ignatius gave a reassuring smile of his own, and then a piece of chocolate seemingly magically appeared in the palm of his hand. The boy's amazement grew as the candy disappeared and then reappeared as Ignatius plucked it from behind his ear. A childish giggle escaped him, and he toddled towards the priest, who scooped him up gently and carried him to the other side of the room, cooing softly. Khentu turned gravely back to Tess.
"What happened?" he said softly, keeping his voice down. "Last we heard, you were on Beckenstein."
"We were," Tess nodded. "But then Gregg got offered a security job on Horizon. It was supposed to be easy work, mostly safe... and we'd have our own home instead of just a box apartment."
"Gregg?"
"My… my husband," she answered, and her voice grew grave again.
"Did he…" Khentu began. "Is he…?"
"Dead," Tess nodded. "The Collectors raided us… about two months ago now."
"I heard something about that," I replied. "Something about the Silver Blades and some batarians coming to the rescue of a human colony."
Tess nodded again, her face twisting a little. "I don't know really know what those mercenaries did, but I know the Ha'diq attacked the Collectors. But once they'd driven them off... they grabbed as much as they could before the Alliance got there. Gregg… Gregg didn't make it."
Her fist clenched, and her face and tone hardened. Khentu and I shared a momentary look. This was not the frail, emotionally-unstable Tessa Jackson who had left this station a few years ago. Somewhere along the line, some hard steel had been grafted into her soul.
"And then they… they herded us into the ships," Tessa continued. "For our safety, they said. I knew that was a load of varren-shit, but none of us knew if the Collectors were really gone or if they were coming back, and we could still see shooting down south."
Heads nodded all around. Survival was something everyone on Omega could understand.
"Well," Khentu sighed, and he reached out, taking one of Tessa's hands and squeezing it. "You're safe now, or at least as safe as any place in the Terminus can be. You've got a place with us, as long as you want it."
Tessa squeezed his hands back, and a single tear spilled down her left cheek.
"Somehow… even being back here… it's good to be home."
Author's Note:
So, everything is coming to a head, and we have quite a number of interesting developments coming from Omega, and all over the Terminus Systems. Khentu and the Legends are gaining ground and numbers and so, it seems, are Ptolemy and the Blood Arrows.
And how will this affect the balance of power on this lonely space station?
Only time will tell.
As always, my thanks to Katkiller-V for his edits, and his creation of this wonderful alternate ME-Universe. Please leave your thoughts/ suggestions/ comments/ constructive criticisms in the reviews below, or PM me directly. Your feedback is always appreciated!
ROCK ON, my friends!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
BJ Hanssen - Never underestimate the power of the church militant. ;)
seabo76 - In the beginning of this story, Tol was just going to be the racist, asshole brother that everyone was going to be glad finally died. But then, over the course of the story, he very organically evolved into the character he is today.
Guest - My thanks, friend! As I said earlier, Katkiller-V is the one who built this world. I'm just the lucky writer who gets to play in it. But I appreciate the kind words all the same.
EE-RAH!
