Chapter 2

"Thane, what time are you coming home tomorrow? Oh. That's disappointing. No. I don't need anything, just you in one piece. I love you too. Yeah? Well when you get here I'll have that and another surprise for you. No, you'll have to come home. I'm not going to tell you over the connection. You'll just have to wait like you're making me wait. Okay, be safe? Hold on. Kolyat! Come talk to your father before he has to go! What's that? Someone's at the door?"

The screen slid to the right and minimized out of sight, another one displaying the news scroll before Kolyat swiped up and sent the feed away. He tapped his inmail and filtered through the dozen or so addresses to find his private account for communication between his father and himself. It was a secure inmail system with three different requirements of entry: retinal, manual, and as his omnitool opened the lens and scanned the unique scale in the middle of his forehead (no one was alike), Kolyat identified himself to the VI and gained access to the messages his father sent.

Today was different. He had a job interview lined up. No throwing on jeans and pullovers to lounge around with his uncle and Tiran. No girls today, just focused preparation. It had been a few months since his last interview and although he was in no dire need, Kolyat was itchy with the lack of employment. Training at home in the high rise penthouse above the Satilmor District and keeping his physique in shape was barely enough to keep him happy. He wanted a return to the wetwork The Panoply had engaged him with prior to the war. His entire professional network had been wiped out after everyone dispersed from the Citadel. He had barely made it to Los Azik in time, where his father had instructed him to go in the event the Reapers should hit.

Rapidly scanning through the messages, Kolyat located the initial conversation that provided the information about Nomadra Enterprises:

Kolyat,

After giving much thought to your request, I have decided to reach out to my contact at Nomadra. It is likely my name will acquire you an expedited interview with the chief officer. I cannot promise anything glamorous, but you can expect an offer of employment, of this I have no doubt.

He would need to bring a list of references and qualifying work experience. Pushing the inmail out of the way with his finger, Kolyat tapped his contact groups and highlighted "Assholes" halfway down the list. He looked over the names of his close teammates, remembering with calm acceptance they were all dead. Why did he keep them? He was a sucker for sentimentality. Each name was confirmed dead or missing by either surviving friends or family members, people who had all said they would vouch for him if he ever had need.

Printing a new list of professional references from his teammate's families and friends, Kolyat ended the contacts program and keyed into his bank account. His father had set up a trust. In the event of his death, all assets would be automatically transferred to Kolyat as beneficiary. The trust was already padded with a substantial amount, and Kolyat was above the age limit of which he was permitted access to ten percent of the current value. It was enough to endow him with a comfortable living. His father's sense of responsibility was one of the redeeming qualities about the man. Kolyat was grateful his father had found him.

It was two after midnight and Kolyat felt more at ease. He doused the glare of the omnitool's display light and placed the device on his nightstand. Awash in moonlight through the sky windows above, Kolyat reached for his glass of dahlk roh. Ice clinked inside the Suen crystal as he brought the drell whiskey to his teal scales, a traditional toast that remarked of new beginnings.

Sometime in the dwindling hours of the night, Kolyat dreamt of living on Kahje in Moorem Bay with his mother. His father was not in the dream. He had usually been absent throughout Kolyat's childhood. Through the windows lined above a kitchen counter could be seen a gray storm. Gusts of wind bent the limber trees and buffeted the wide, serrated fronds. Breakfast was on a white table, and Kolyat knew its aroma by sight. A sautéed meat with heated vegetables and cool fruit. His mother would not touch her food, though it was her favorite meal. Her yellow hand covered the lower half of her face. She had hardly finished excusing herself when she stood and hurried across the tiles to begin coughing into the sink. Kolyat, as a child, had been frightened when he had first witnessed the event, and still experienced the tinge of fear from seeing it replayed in his dreams. Every time, he would go to his mother and touch her arm at the elbow, his ten-year-old voice asking if she was okay. His mother's hand would touch her belly, and she would smile down at him to assure him everything was fine. He could recall that her clothes smelled of sweet spices.