2020 Annual One-Shot Anthology
A selection of short stories
This is a document that will list many one-shot stories from the Premiseverse. The majority of these stories come from the members of the Premiseverse Discord community.
LP's A/N: The others who submitted stories will be listed here with their stories on one page. Other stories may be added at a later date.
TempestasAurum, promising
DSB/Tho'ian Troll
Versiple/Ventrix, Bro
NPC, Not serving Evil
Keyes, Absolute Guac Traitor
I will repeat what I said in the write con document:
"FIRST, let me congratulate everyone who participated. Regardless of if you finished or not, or if you won or not, I appreciate each and every one of you spending time and effort to help expand the PV.
SECOND, regardless of whether you win or lose, I will almost certainly be reaching out to each and every person. Original characters in these stories will show up in the main story as well as side fics, PV RPG campaigns, and STG files - with your permission. Additionally, some concepts introduced by these stories will now be considered PV canon.
THIRD, and finally - as well as most importantly - I want to thank you all for patience and interest in my work given how slowly I update and how erratic my schedule is. I did not set out to create a community but I have, and the astonished declaration of a new member in the Discord chat about this being where all the good writers hang out gave me a spark of joy I did not expect to feel.
My life has not been easy, and each and every one of you - readers, writers, artists, editors, people who make art, music, emotes, the shitposters, even Spicy - are one of the few things that both distract me and keep me going. Thank you all for your participation and your help."
DSB Story: Concerning
Smoke burnt in his nostrils as he sprinted through the trench, trying to reposition. The last of his squad had just fallen, a splatter of something wet coating Olek's back as the Turian biotic smashed the other soldier's body under unnatural pressure.
Suddenly stumbling into something, he smashed into a concrete wall covered in grime, mud and who knows what else.
Olek looked down to see what had tripped him, he saw a leg lying there - torn at the edges, burnt in fire, filled with pain, agony, panic!
Olek reeled back, falling farther than he thought and had to catch himself on the concrete again.
A roar like an angry dragon filled his ears as he suddenly stood in front of the munitions depot he was guarding and watched an RPG fly by like in slow motion.
His horrified glance followed the projectile as it impacted the depot's wall and - even as his body dove away from the danger - the whole building seemed to ignite, throwing him away on a wave of pressure and heat and - the searing pain ripped through his leg as he lay in the mud, still dazed from the explosion. The fire roared towards him. Turians gunned down his squad. The roar. The Roar. THE ROAR.
Fire burnt, searing his body, robbing him of his leg...
Olek jerked awake, swinging wildly. A crash sounded through the room. The Turians! They were here!
Blindly he grabbed for his gun, brought it up towards the noise and started pressing the trigger.
Click. Click. Click.
A jerk went through his mind.
"Lights!"
His bellow triggered the VI's response and bright light filled the room, illuminating the sparsely decorated duraplast walls, his trashed bed and the picture-frame he smashed to the ground.
"Fuck, fuck... FUCK!"
He scrambled towards his nightstand, fumbling with the pills and popped two - always two, never less and never ever more, Olek! - into his mouth.
The first coat dissolved before he even swallowed, bringing a cool soothing to his nerves through his mouth and the quick-acting agents calmed him down enough to start breathing normally again. He heaved a sigh and flopped back onto his sweat-soaked bed.
Fuck. A glance on his Omni-Tool told him that he still had about an hour until he'd have to get up - meaning he slept a total of three hours already.
Groaning, he leaned down to pick up the picture frame that luckily had survived the fall without damage - and not for the first time nor for the last, certainly.
A much younger Olek grinned up from the picture, arm in arm with a small woman with curly black hair, brown slanted eyes and a pronounced asian heritage, both glad for the others company and smiling for the drone that had taken their picture, the background a rocky landscape.
Olek still remembered that day and the legacy it left him in more than one way.
Glancing about, lost in thought but still desperately trying to not look at something, his eyes wandered about the beautifully minerals dotted around his shelves. Some carved, some polished, all special in their own way. Gifts from a happier time and mementos he collected for himself.
He looked at a very special row in the shelves: Rocks, not as polished, not as uncommon but just as special in their own way as the others. Pictures of one, two or three people, gaining more and more detail and proportion as the row went on - a man with a shiny leg, a woman that had a warm glow about her and a little girl, growing up slowly.
Despite himself, Olek smiled warmly. One of the few things still left to him, that still brought him joy and made life worth living rather than just enduring.
Standing up he groaned at a quick flash of pain and tried to ignore the faint whirr of the servos as he put weight on his left leg and walked toward the shelve to pick up the latest picture on the row. This one was not drawn, but a selfie taken via Omni-Tool, showing a young woman laughing with other people. All were sitting around a table full of study materials, rocks and pictures of mineral formations, but Olek had only eyes for the woman that took the picture. Black, curly hair. Less of the asian heritage visible than with her mother. Instead blue eyes smiled warmly out of a face looking almost like an exact mixture between her father and her mother.
Olek smiled proudly. His daughter - his little Hanna - was studying geology and geo-engineering in her second year now. She shared the passion her mother had for minerals, their history and their importance to life.
Something that he had only picked up due to an osmosis of passion when his wife was still alive and carried on to honor her memory after she had passed when Hanna was only six years old.
With a sigh he replaced that picture frame and tried to distract himself with potential issues that could crop up at work today.
One of the drilling-bots had developed a habit of veering off of the designated path, not too much to be an issue, but enough to be noticeable after checking the logs of a few days. Nothing Olek and the other techs had tried had dissuaded the machine from his new path so far and they didn't want to go for a full flash - the legacy firmware support for that particular machine was atrocious. So they just checked the new path for any potentially problematic intersections, saw that there was nothing in the way - and what should there be aside from other drilling crews? The whole planet was set to be stripped - and just kept checking each day if the route changed again for whatever reason. So far the machine held straight, though there might be a little slowdown in production due to some harder rock-formations coming up soon.
Rocking back on his heels, he again heard the faint whirr and - with a sigh - looked down at his left leg. Or what was left of it...
Shortly after his pyjama shorts started showing the skin of his thighs, there was an abrupt cut, where flesh yielded to metal with a slightly scratched matte finish.
Raising his arm and starting the built in diagnostics on his Omni-Tool he grunted in satisfaction; everything was nominal and the changes he had done a few weeks ago to fix a balance issue still held and didn't seem to have brought any problems with them. The whole new model was such an upgrade to the cheap piece of shit silver he'd gotten while getting patched shortly after the end of the FCW - and shortly before he washe... quit on his own volition - that it wasn't even funny. He had to extend his line of credit to get it, but with the company vouching for him after over a decade of working for them it wasn't much of an issue. The Volus running the little bank on the station didn't even add any harsh clauses to the contract-extension, something Olek was grateful for.
Stretching and wandering over to his desk, he pulled up the newsletters he got from various engineering forums, the newest posts in hack-your-own-device groups and - ... he shook his head and closed the Fornax tab again. Work distraction first, other distraction later.
Olek sat down and settled in to read a bit before he officially got up and started his work day.
"Man, there is only shit on the news all over! Except for the lovey-dovey propaganda-esque bullshit the Asari put out to make us all flock over there to be their love slaves! It's a fucking conspiracy, I'm telling you, man!"
"Shut the fuck up, Carl. You'd be happy if any women would take you as their 'love slave' ... or even look at you."
Laughter mixed with loud curses echoed through the lunch-/break room where engineers, miners, administrative staff and maintenance workers alike gathered together to eat and talk during break-times or in between shifts.
Olek sat at one of the more quiet tables due to most of the engineers/mechanics he worked with here being more on the introverted side of temperamental inclinations. Many an amused eye glanced up from Omni-Tools and around the room to take in the boisterous atmosphere or to share and knowingly amused glance at the antics of their coworkers and friends.
"Joskowicz."
Olek looked up at hearing his surname being said from across the table.
"What is it, Moreno?"
The thus-named man grinned down at him from his - even while sitting - impressive height, his toothy grin almost hidden beyond a gigantic but well groomed beard, brown like his hair and eyes.
"Hank and I have been talking and we'd really like you on stand-by tomorrow for when B-14-9 hits that rough patch. We've been getting some slight vibrations and the course has shifted by 0.2 degrees again. Nothing major in the way - we checked already - but I'm worried if that old beast might give out on us now when it has to chew up the hard stuff."
Olek nodded thoughtfully as he regarded the giant man.
"Sure, I'll be around. Just this morning I thought about the old girl."
He shot a quick glance at his Omni.
"When about do you think you'll hit the patch?"
Moreno scratched his chin and Olek was once again fascinated by how the man's massive hand seemed to almost vanish in his equally massive beard.
"About 2130 if all goes to plan... and I sometimes get doubts how much we can rely on the normal metrics with that particular machine. That is at the end of your usual shift, I know - but I'd feel better if we had you around in case something goes wrong."
He paused and leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit.
"The new guys that have been working on that crew are a bit... mhhh... green, let's say, when it comes to the older models and I don't want anybody doing anything stupid without knowing what they're doing."
Olek snorted and nodded. The CRUSH-3a series - a remake of an older Krogan model drill - was notorious for needing some careful hands-on maintenance sometimes. And not everybody was up to crawling into the maw of the beast or knew enough to do it safely.
"Yeah, I'll be around. Tell you what: I'll come down to the forward base with you guys and stay there for the few hours the rough patch should take."
"Oh man, really? It would be great to not have to wait on you getting a shuttle down."
Moreno grinned some more and slapped on the table, rattling the dishes and getting a good amount of good-natured grumbling in return.
"I'll even throw in a nice case of that old-ass Polish beer you like so much!"
Olek smiled and nodded again.
"Deal."
"And then he fucking... he fucking... he fucking told her... TO HER FACE."
Moreno's laughter shook the little pre-fab building that was the forward base nearest to the drill.
"I have never seen her go from amusedly smiling to angry so quickly. Dude is lucky she held back..."
Olek joined in with the laughter of the other crew-members while Moreno recounted a scene he'd witnessed later on the previous evening that ended with a drunk and particularly obnoxious Carl getting thrown into a wall by an Asari that worked the station's communications array after he told her - in very colourful language - that he was onto her and her people's dirty schemes but would be willing to forgive and forget for a kiss... or more. Olek cringed even thinking about the idiot that was now laid out in the station's med-bay with two broken arms and the derision and ridicule of the other inhabitants.
Turning his attention away from the ongoing and loud laughter of the others he checked the linked readout he coupled to his Omni-Tool to keep an eye on B-14-9's systems data and frowned at the numbers scrolling along on the projected windows. The course had changed a bit more, but was still going at the hard mineral patch - definitely something to keep an eye on, if this drift continued but no major deviation for now. But the speed... the speed was very steadily increasing. It was almost unnoticeable but it should have been noticed by the others by now. Looking up at their antics - now they were gathering around for a game of poker - he mentally shrugged. If anything weird happened he'd be here to fix it and the others would listen to his instructions, seeing as he was the one that knew the most about this machine.
Leaning back in the comfortable seat he mindlessly scrolled through the last message his daughter had sent. Her studies were going well and she asked if she could come visit in some upcoming vacation for a week or two. After that she asked him if he had any new shiny rocks for her, making him smile again upon re-reading that.
Hanna's fascination with rocks was one of the main reasons he still kept up the collection of new ones. The thoughts about his late wife were always more sad than happy... but it was worth it for Hanna.
He'd have to write out an answer later when he had some more peace and quiet. And when he wasn't likely to be teased - albeit friendly - by the other men for being "all cute" with his daughter.
Taking a last look at the readouts - looking more normal now - he felt his eyes drift shut.
Sitting on a park bench in the middle of the New York arcology he and his wife breathed deeply and enjoyed the fresh air for once. They both had spent a good chunk of their earnings to get tickets for visiting Central Park - one of the few places in the arcology that had space for leisure and just enjoying the last bits of untainted nature that Earth had to offer.
He enjoyed feeling her finger entwined with his, her skin smooth despite the calluses she'd accrued in her line of work, handling rough stone most of the time.
Leaning back, his head snapped around upon hearing a low roar like from a wild beast. He didn't see anything but the air seemed to get warmer and warmer. His breaths came out fast and harsh and he glanced about anxiously. His wife continued to smile serenely and happily, not noticing his unease.
The roar. The roar... the roar got louder. An angry dragon about to devour him. The heat made him sweat as he watched the plants around them wilt and blacken in the licking flames...
The stench of smoke, gore and death settled in the not so quiet anymore air around them and he felt rough concrete on his skin.
Olek looked to the side. His wife was gone, replaced by an RPG frozen in time, about to...
"Joskowicz… Olek! Wake up, man!"
His eyes snapped open, the palm thrust smashing into the iron hard body of Moreno.
"Wha... what?"
"Calm down, man."
The giant man soothingly rubbed his shoulders.
"Fuck. Sorry, mate", Olek pressed out while calming his breaths, catching the eyes of some of the other crew in the background and averting his gaze as to not see their pity any longer.
"No worries, my friend. Are you alright?"
Worried eyes everywhere peering in his direction, Olek shrugged and half-nodded.
"Yeah. Nothing unusual, sadly."
"If you say so."
A glass of water was pressed into his hands and he smiled tightly in thanks before gulping down the cooling liquid, still feeling the oppressive heat of his memories.
A few minutes went by quietly with Moreno sitting next to him and shooting worried glances in his direction while the others talked quietly in the background.
Closing his eyes again, Olek cursed himself for falling asleep. Now he'd have to endure the pity and sympathy of the others again for weeks on end until they forgot and stopped treating him like something fragile. He just knew that the rest of the station would know of his episode before too long as well... the medical personnel that monitored the VI readouts in case of an emergency was luckily a friendly bunch that took confidentiality very serious and only sometimes talked to him when he needed new meds or - after particularly bad episodes that left him shaken for days - a few days off and a few sessions with the company psychiatrist.
His quiet ruminations were interrupted by a harsh vibration of his Omni-Tool followed by a buzzing alarm going off on the central console.
Pulling up the monitoring feed with a quick swipe and glancing over the readouts, Olek cursed.
"Fuck, the old beast has some indigestion."
The other crew members gathered around the readout, some staying back and pulling up their own Omni-Tools, frowning at the data.
"Looks like it ground through a good chunk of the hard patch but then the crushing jaws inside encountered something that exceeded maximum force. Going by the harsh spike and drop in the pressure sensors, whatever it is might've actually damaged the jaws. Fuck."
Olek frowned thoughtfully. There weren't many materials that could stand up to - nevermind damage - hardened laser-steel with a Silaris coating (an addon the company added themselves for a non-disclosed price tag) and none of them should be encountered in the wild while tunneling a few kilometers underground. This might mean that they encountered a precursor artifact of potentially high worth; On the one hand, a nice payday... on the other that might mean that the Council or the local bigwigs might want to close down the mining operation while they scanned the area for more sites.
Meeting the slightly worried eyes of Moreno, it seemed that the bigger man had also drawn the same conclusions, while the rest of the crew seemed more concerned with the immediate problem of the damaged machine.
"How about you and I go check it out, Moreno", Olek suggested quietly and the other man nodded.
"Alright, you lot. Mr. I-know-every-thing-about-this here and I will take a hike to check out the damage. If we need any more hands on deck, I'll give you a call on the standard frequency, got it?"
The men nodded and settled down a bit, some pulling up some entertainment, but most still looking over the loadouts and fussing over data.
Moreno jerked his head towards the exit-airlock and Olek followed him to suit up.
The drill laid out a rail-track behind itself which the service vehicles hooked into for top-speed - though they also could unhook themselves and drive on their six wheels, making them capable of pretty much all terrain that offered some kind of traction.
After strapping in and hitting the "Catch up to drill" program, Olek and Moreno exchanged a glance.
Switching to a point-to-point channel, Moreno let out a sigh, Olek following suit.
"Man... I really didn't want to abandon this dig-site, Joskowicz."
Olek nodded.
"We'll see what is actually the problem - might've just been a really really hard rock", he offered with a resigned sort of amusement to which the other man chuckled.
"Sure, sure."
A pause.
"Though if it isn't just a rock... what do we do?"
Olek looked at the rocky walls rushing by in thought.
"I'd say, first we try to see what it actually is. If it seems really high-tech or dangerous, we don't have much of a choice. Just need one guy stumbling over it and blabbing and we'd be in a whole lot of deep shit for 'trying to deny the Council their right to precursor artifacts' or some bullshit. And we'd most likely take the whole company down with us."
Moreno looked pained at the thought and Olek could understand his line of thinking. A lot of the workers were really straight up good people and the company as a whole was very good to its employees... not something either of them wanted to put at risk.
"... If it isn't something actually valuable or something really small", Olek continued ponderously. "I'd say we fix the drill, make up somebullshit about the pressure sensors giving faulty feedback to the system and the hydraulics damaging itself or something. We'll figure something out. This dig has been really really profitable for us all so far and I know that I'm not the only one funneling money to family or similar."
His companion looked down and to the side. It was a poorly kept secret that he had a few children he was keeping fed as well - and none of them from the same mother.
"Alright... alright. Let's hope it isn't anything big, then."
After a few more minutes of travel they reached the end of the track behind the machine and got off to take a closer look. The drill had automatically pulled back a bit after the emergency sensors tripped, so that the wall it was drilling into and the machinery itself could be examined more easily.
Both men stopped and stared. The wall looked decidedly unnormal. A gleaming and almost organic looking sheen covered the dark rock, reflecting decidedly the wrong amount of light from their lamps and the huge light-racks on the drill.
"What the fuck is that...?", Moreno took an unsteady step back.
Olek was fascinated, almost transfixed. The rockwall seemed to be pulling him in, but with a shake of his head he cleared the strange urge and focused on the task at hand.
"Don't know. We can figure it out later. Come on!"
He walked towards the front of the machine where the giant maws normally twisted, sheared and crushed the material in front. On a more expensive machine there would be Mass Effect and Kinetic projectors to assist in the task but the Silaris upgrade was expensive enough, he imagined.
Frowning at some heavy furrows, that something had dug through the material making up the actual drill unit and the entry to the internal rock crusher, he pulled up his Omni-Tool, linking it directly to the machine. Small LEDs lining the interior flashed to life, shedding light on a trail of destruction, bent material and chips of Silaris leading further into the machine.
"Moreno, could you do me a solid and climb up? I'd really like the clutches disengaged with this machine before I reach so much as a pinky in there."
Moreno nodded distractedly and climbed up while still stealing glances at the wall, and vanished into the upper portions of the machine, Olek waiting patiently while taking photos, surface scans as well as penetrating subsurface scans of the damaged parts.
Squinting at the readouts he angled his Omni-Tool differently. There was something there. Something round, deep in the machine.
Some heavy clunks made him look up just in time to see Moreno poke his hand out of a side-hatch showing a thumbs-up sign.
Glancing again at his Omni's readouts to check that yes, the clutches were disengaged - couldn't be too careful - he crouched down and clambered into the depths while carefully avoiding razor sharp cutting edges as well as the broken and mangled machinery that now surrounded him.
More shards of Silaris greeted him as well as a particular smell reminding him of a beach he once visited with Hanna. Blinking, he checked his suit seals: Still sealed. Olek sniffed, but the smell was gone now.
Forwards he clambered, further down he crouched. Shadows seemed to be flickering, brought to life by the lights on his suit moving with him as he left the range of the built-in lights behind him. He felt as if he was intruding upon a dangerous beast in its burrow but years of experience, combined with the secure knowledge that the machine was turned off, helped him to shake that feeling.
Crawling forwards, only his own breath sounding in his ears with whatever echoes rumbled throughout the machine whenever he bumped something. Stopping at a pile of shards on the floor, he carefully extended an haptic field with a high tactile feedback setting around his hand to help brush the shards aside without cutting through the material of his suit. After the blockade was cleared he tried to remember the schematics of the model - he had been sure that he'd only have to go in a few meters at the most. Mentally shrugging, he pushed on, a faint roar almost unnoticeable in the back of his head. Another twist in the road and he finally could get up from his crouched crawling position.
It felt great to stretch his legs again and the smell of the ocean was calming his racing heart - though he couldn't remember why it should be racing at all - the day on the beach had been so nice. Hanna's happy laughter echoed in his ears and he found himself smiling. A few more meters and he should be at the damaged crushing unit.
The faint roaring was going up and down in volume but sounded muted like it was muffled under layers upon layers of pillows.
A faint sheen of colors just ahead pulled Oleks attention to a pile of more Silaris shards, a round orb lying amidst them.
INTEREST.
Reaching down curiously he felt the pretty rock in his hands - PRESSURE - and put it into his satchel for later, maybe Hanna would like it.
REASSURANCE.
Time to check in with Moreno.
A faint beeping made him open his eyes and look around. A hospital bed. A haptic readout popped up beside his bed once he looked.
"Mr. Joskowicz, are you with us again?"
Olek turned towards the voice and saw an Asari in a doctor's uniform peer up from a desk a few beds away.
"You gave us quite the scare, you know. How much do you remember?"
"I...", his throat was parched and he coughed a bit. "I went to check on the machine with Moreno...", he trailed off uncertainly.
"Oh, my. Well,... I am sure your colleague can tell you the technical details. But from what I was told, you fixed the sensors that falsely reported the machine as damaged and fixed a 'persistent problem', whatever that means. Upon return to the forward base you did stumble and hit your head quite badly. Nothing lasting but you did pass out. We will have to do some tests."
Olek returned to his quarters, after gathering his stuff, still a bit out of it but none worse for wear. A faint roar like water flowing sounded in his ears but that might just be after effects of the fall.
Pulling out his satchel he went to put his tools in order when a small sphere rolled out onto his desk. Curiously he picked it up and marveled at how it caught the light. Hanna would love it when she came to visit in a few weeks, surely.
AMUSEMENT.
Blinking, he looked up to his boss. Mr. Walker had always been good to him and the others. It was only fair that he... that he ... what?
"Olek, are you alright?"
"Yes, sir. Still a bit out of it after the fall I had some time ago."
"Mhh... maybe you should actually take some of your vacation days sometime", his boss chuckled goodnaturedly.
"Anyways, what was it that you wanted to show me?"
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the heavy and big sphere, still amused how he could even carry something the size of his head around in a bag. All that training in his youth seemed to still pay off.
"Here, sir."
Mr. Walker marveled at the way the sphere caught the light and reached out to touch it.
DEPTH.
Pressing her to his chest, Olek hugged his daughter until she pulled back smiling.
"I'm happy to be here, dad."
"I hope so, my darling. And - like I promised, I have something very pretty to show you that I found on the job."
Hanna felt the little sphere in her hand and marveled at the way it caught the light.
Olek smiled and recalled the smell of the ocean as she looked up at him with gleaming eyes.
SATISFACTION.
TempestasAurum Story: Hades
TempestasAurum's A/N: I want to thank LP, for giving me a chance to write in the OSABC much so, that I felt that I wanted introduce new creative elements to the story and give LP worldbuilding tools he could use in the future. Since, at this current time The Hand of Hades feels rather lacking characterization and background for an organization that is supposed to be a more "Evil" Cerberus, so I tried to rectify that in this piece. I hope you'll enjoy it.
The Ars Huenetics central gene therapy clinic was located in the most unconventional of places as far as it was concerned. In its many assignments and trials, it had never encountered something so eccentric as disguising a gene therapy clinic as an exclusive invite only nightclub. Of course, it made more sense the more you processed the topic. Gene clinics, especially prenatal gene clinics were an especially hot topic among the SA's uncultured and unsophisticated masses of unwashed peasants, suffice to say. No one would question a class IV or V making a trip to an exclusive nightclub built for such clientele. These thoughts percolated in its new body, as it strode behind it's guide through the nightclub.
The new body was a flash clone with a thoroughly ridiculous name, one Shohre Abbasi. But it was sure to mislead any crime scene investigator or commissar that tried to pick through its corpse later if it failed. Not that it mattered, it thought as it's guide ushered it into a long corridor. If it failed it would just provide another in to exploit later.
The corridor, unlike the previous nightclub which was more of a glorified waiting room with worse music than a Citadel elevator, was bone white inset with clear transparent doorways on each side of the corridor. Promotional materials were holographically displayed on the bone white walls, with such slogans as 'everything starts from the seed' or 'this is future, natural births are so outdated'. The slogans were so bad, it amused it more than it cared to admit. Ars Huenetics probably put these promotional advertisements up to make up for the fact they were unable to advertise in most traditional media markets, it mused.
It's mission for today was simple. Present an offer to the current CEO of Ars Huenetics, a one milady Kaja Rooijakker-Rebane. Wife of Baron Gunter Rooijakker, Lord of Sol third rank, house of Victory class II colony, former Major of Marines and CEO of Ars Huenetics.
At the end of the hallway, it's guide opened a door on to an open office plan, where dozens of desks, chairs, and other rudiments were strewn together in what appeared to be a maze, without an office worker in sight. It's guide, ever silent, guided it through the tangled maze. Before arriving at a large rectangular frosted glass office nestled in the northwestern corner and surrounded by a mountain of bean bags.
Bean Bags, utterly ridiculous. Its guide used to the patented eccentricities around her, paused in front of a frosted glass wall before pressing her hand against the wall. Floating green haptic symbols floated across the glass around her before dissipating into photons. Before it was going to ask what that was all about, a whole section of frosted glass wall slid in the floor. The guide moved itself into said office, before quickly bowing in the demure fashion, it quickly followed suit.
"That is enough, Clarice. You may leave", milady Rooijakker-Rabane sighed, seated in front of one of the messiest desks in its memories. Hundreds of papers, at least fifty half open books and binders, a dozen data pads, half a dozen plates of half eaten cake and other knick knacks covered her desk. It was at least 10 centimeters deep. And the compartments around her were filled with books, binders and haptic images either floating against cluttered walls or in midair.
For milady Kaja Rooijakker-Rabane herself, was easily the youngest looking 60-year-old it had seen yet. If someone told it that milady Rooijakker-Rebane was in her early 30's, it would have believed it. With her pale Estonian skin, pale blonde hair and chiseled athletic frame, as well as numerous patented gene mods probably helped as well, it supposed.
"And you must be the 'honored' investor my accountant told me about. Though I can't say I've ever heard of your family, Ms. Abbasi' milady Rooijakker-Rebane said, her eyes looking over its body. "Have a seat if you wish", she gestured to one of the few uncluttered seats.
It parked itself into the seat, composing itself before launching it into a correction. "Small correction milady, I'm merely a representative of my master. Someone who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being. But he understands the position you're currently in. "It said, with the politest smile it could manage.
"You can drop the milady crap, call me Kaja or if you're too polite then Lady Kaja," Lady Kaja said, flipping her long blonde hair to the side. "Yes, my position, what quaint way to say Ars Huenetics impending insolvency."
It tented its fingers on its lap, "Yes, what intelligence my master has said that Ars Huenetics has less than 150 days you'll run out liquid capital to keep current operations going. In addition, your current debts to Manswell Bank of Vancouver, exceeds 2.4 million Citadel adjusted credits. And Ars Huenetics neither has the customer base nor the governmental approval to add new customers."
Gene therapies clinics were mostly run by Systems Alliance ministry of public health or military with stringent and draconian regulations enforced by the Sudham-Wolcott Genetic Heritage Act. However certain companies, like MarsGene, Ars Huenetics, Heyuan Genetics and Sirta Foundation were allowed to set up private gene therapy clinics. Of course, said private companies had to allow governmental inspectors and commissariat access to both the facilities, tools and genes used in the gene therapies. Those inspectors also had to screen potential customers to be able to use said gene therapies clinics, meaning that most of the time only either Class V or Class IV citizens were able access them. Of course, many of the gene clinics were completely unknown outside of the intricate inner circles of certain Class V or Class IV citizens, passed by word of mouth. Meaning that new customers were exceptionally rare.
Lady Kaja waved her hand, trying to wave away reality, "I'm quite aware of that already. So, I am guessing that you and your master can rectify that nonsense?"
"Of course, Lady Kaja as long as you can abide by certain requirements beforehand" it said, tossing an OSD containing some of the information on Project Lada, and other non-project data.
Lady Kaja caught it, looked at it and set it down on a stack of 3 data pads. "Give me the abbreviated version if you don't mind."
It crossed it's legs, and tilted its head to look at Lady Kaja, "Of course, Lady Kaja. First let me preface it to say that my master has long been weary of other alien species and has eyed them with great deal of suspicion. He's grown increasingly alarmed over the years as knowledge of their inherent biology and talents has become known. Like Turian durability, Asari long lifespans or biotic ability, Salarian IQ spectrum being much higher than ours to name a few specifics. Humans in general only special attribute is our lower nutritional requirements over other species. He wants to close the titanic distance that exists between other Citadel species."
Lady Kaja raised an apprehensive eyebrow, "And your master thinks that by enhancing a bunch of Class IV children will fix that gap?"
It scoffed, "Please, Lady Kaja. Your gene therapy clinic has long been the target of wealthy married class IVs who only know about it because of word of mouth. My master has a large group of Class III's and special class II's that would be extremely happy to become your customers."
Lady Kaja laughed, an empty hollow sounding laugh. "Class IIIs neither have the money nor the governmental clearance to access this gene clinic. Class IIs would burn this place to the ground for the sake of their nonsensical religion. And I doubt your master would have the money to fund something out of the goodness of his skewed priorities heart!"
"Lady Kaja, my master has assured me that what he is proposing is quite possible. He has the resources, connections, and cash to fund upwards of tens of thousands of ready to go applicants for his project. Allowing you and your husband to grow Ars Huenetics to it's full mission statement, 'A place to help people, help other people!'". It smiled, as sincerely as it knew how.
Lady Kaja pressed the palm of her hand into her face muttering, "Gun I really wished you never came up with that mission statement, that was painful to hear". Lady Kaja leaned back in her chair, "So why does your master just create a company for that purpose. I would think with his supposed resources he could easily make a company to do just that."
It shrugged, "He very well could, Lady Kaja. But that would take time, time that he does not wish to take. You already are one of the best gene therapists in the Systems Alliance, and your team here includes some of the best medical gene specialists outside of MarsGene. It's only natural for him to acquire an already established company that would assent to his wishes."
Lady Kaja sighed, "I guess that makes a decent level of sense. Still don't know why, your being all cloak and dagger and shit about his name. I could guess this guy is probably some uppity Terra Firma asshole that is really mad that Turians have bigger dicks than him. But why don't you tell me what gene therapies you... your master was thinking about."
It put a finger to its mouth, as if it were thinking, "The gulf needs to be closed, so we've named our Project Lada after the Slavic goddess of beauty and fertility, the specific details of the project are on the OSD. But generally Project Lada's aims are to reintroduce genetic lines lost during the Days of Iron, eradicate genetic predispositions to certain mental illnesses through hormonal modification, increase nutritional absorption rates through genetic modification of gut bacteria, and provide for natural biotic potential with specially formulated prenatal eezo injections. Furthermore, recently discovered gene patterns like limited self-regenerating human telomeres from Australia or increased bone and muscle mass from Elysium colonists, allow the Project Lada to drastically increase base human height, strength, and longevity over current models. Naturally, that is to name a few of our aims. The OSD will detail all the science and specifics of the project."
Lady Kaja eyes were nearly bulging out her head when it had finished, "Half of the things you said are reserved for our military, the other half violates the Sudham-Wolcott Genetic Heritage Act so hard that the High Lords of Sol allow the commissariat to dispose of us in a fucking bio reactor if we were caught. "
It glanced to the holo family photo in the corner of the office, "Should you really be saying that Lady Kaja, considering your own illegal actions?"
Lady Kaja froze, her head slowly turning toward 'Ms. Abbasi'. "Funny you should say illegal actions, I wonder what the commissariat would say to your master to what he's proposing. But I have no idea what illegal actions are talking about."
It sighed, wondering how deep in self-denial Lady Kaja was. "So, you're saying that you didn't know that your children violate nineteen of the twenty-three sections of the Sudham-Wolcott Genetic Heritage Act? My, I'll let my master know that who we thought was a brilliant gene-therapist turned out to be accidently brilliant." It tented its fingers again, calming itself, "Didn't you think nobody would notice when you paid off the inspectors so you could incorporate Drell memory proteins and self-replicating bio-nano agents into your children. It just so happened that some of those inspectors worked for my master."
Lady Kaja looked like either she was going to flee for her life or commit suicide there and then, "Now, hear me out for a second. It's not what you may…".
It interjected, "My master doesn't really care what you thought Lady Kaja, and we don't necessarily care about what you did to your children either. But I definitely think the commissariat wouldn't be pleased by what you did, nor I think the High Lords of Sol either." It smiled a vicious smile, "My master can have that, and your husband's indiscretions be front page news tomorrow on ANN, Westerlund or any number of their subsidiaries. But it doesn't have to be that way, work with us to let humanity rise above our current problems to the next layer of evolution, and along the way you'll be rewarded for the effort."
Lady Kaja looked visibly ill, that once quiet confidence sublimating under the pressure, "I… I… can't give you access, at least not without my husband's permission." Lady Kaja looked like a wilted flower, about to become fertilizer. "Please, I know I'm not the best mother, but I did it for their future. To ensure that if something ever happened to me, they could remain healthy and happy in that cesspit we call Earth."
It didn't care, it had its mission after all to think about than the sad whimpering of biologically addled barely self-aware bovine with preponderance for protecting its experiments. Her use was limited to the project, and its master said that she had to live. She would live. "Then arrange a meeting with Baron Rooijakker then, my master is a patient man up to a point."
Lady Kaja tears in her eyes, hastily nodded her head. Tapping on her Omni tool, she began shakily, "Exciting news Gun the investor…"
It felt the hum of the air car, as the air car sped its way across the prairie plains of Victory heading for the estate of Rooijakker, Gunter's Folly. Several different scenarios went through its head, predicated on the response that Baron Gunter Rooijakker would possibly do. It repeated the brief that it had read earlier.
Gunter Rooijakker, born in the former Utrecht Arcology to class II parents in 2133. Had gone into the marines to escape the crushing poverty and rising sea levels that permeated the nation-state of Netherlands after the Days of Iron. He was on Shanxi, one of the few marines to survive the initial crushing occupation before the surrender order came. Disobeying orders he and several other marines deserted the command of General Williams, vowing to continue the fight against the Turian invaders. Gunter would later be awarded for Star of Sol for his actions, in the Third Battle of New Taiyuan where he and his group of marines freed high ranking captured SA civilian prisoners, destroyed the main Shanxi occupation force's supply depot and fought off entire cohort utilizing nothing more than captured enemy equipment, a poisoned water supply and autonomous car bombs. Thus delaying an important part of the Turian fleet for several days and tying down more Turians troops for anti-insurgency operations on Shanxi's hinterlands. For this action or other actions, he was elevated to Baron Gunter Rooijakker, of the House of Victory. He would continue to serve with the SA marines for another nine years before retiring a Major of Marines to found Ars Huenetics with his wife, saying that he wanted to 'help people help others'.
The brief said many things about him. He was stubborn. He was anti-authoritarian. He was a good Samaritan. He's a self-made man. It can be inferred he hates Turians. Or alternatively the Williams. He was creative, with the materials at hand. He also isn't a man with a great handle with words. Most of all he never surrendered. Which makes this mission fraught with more failure than it liked. If it failed here, then the plans for Ars Huenetics would be for naught and its grey box would merely be shelved as a reminder to other Shades what not to do.
As the air car flew around Gunter's Folly, the peculiar name for Rooijakker's noble estate, it thought the estate would be a Westwatch wet dream. Most of the buildings were half buried or immersed into several prairie knolls, peaking out with giant passive gain solar windows that looked like the teeth of some horrible half buried creature. Scattered across these knolls were vortex bladeless windmills, bowl shaped solar panels, weird inky black tangled arms of Escapari-K'Toni sculptures and sheep. Lots of sheep, with weird wool colors. Some were navy blue, some were neon green, some were pink, some looked like there wool was cloth of gold. More work of Ars Huenetics, it thought.
Waiting on the landing pad was an imposing figure fully encased in medium Ursa armor repainted in Autumn Dazzle, holding what looked like a heavily modified Crossfire Battle rifle in its hands. "Ms. Abbasi, I'm knight irregular Dudu Pinheiro, valet for Baron Gunter Rooijakker forever be his name, he is expecting you at his personal office. However, before I escort you there, I'll have to search you for any weapons or contraband that you may have on your person."
It looked over the towering form with amused glance, like this strumpet could even begin to find all the weapons on its person. "Very well. Trust me when I say that I have no weapons on my person."
This wasn't its first security search, while this Dudu was quick and professional, his omni tool passive scan was several years out of date. Ergo, it was easy enough to fool it with its omni tool anti-scan runtime. When the result came up negative, he decided to pat its body down. A waste of effort, unfortunately.
The trip to the Baron's office was interspersed with small talk of the nature it loathed. Like 'how was the ride over?' or 'enjoying the weather here?'. It gave him noncommittal answers. The ones it tries to give to small children, senior citizens or mentally deficient vorcha. It did give it time to examine the state of the estate more closely, which turned out to be even far more eccentric on the ground level than the view from the air.
Pillars of aquaponics stood scattered among the buildings, hosting plants it thought had long perished during the Days of Iron or weird Batarian flora, sprouting out with inky black tendrils. The path they were walking on was paved in the dirty brown bones of dozens, if not hundreds of different creatures. The structures themselves were made up of biocrete, traditional glass, and even adobe bricks. The level of expense of this eccentricity boggled its mind. If this Gunter didn't waste credits on this eccentricity, Ars Huenetics wouldn't be anywhere near insolvency.
It buckled down its disgust at the idiosyncrasies around it as they neared the office of Baron Gunter Rooijakker, which turned out to be the most conventional building in this estate seemingly. Perched atop a prairie knoll, it was an octagonal building with wide windows looking out onto the estate and the pasture that extended beyond it. Atop the office stood a long pole, that showcased at least dozen different flags of which only a few it recognized, such as the Alliance Marine Corps flag and the System Alliance flag. And standing outside stood a bear of man with massively wide shoulders and a large grey shaggy beard was Baron Gunter Rooijakker.
"Hello there, madam I hope the trip from Triumph was a smooth ride. It can be tricky navigating through the ever-shifting prairie winds, why don't you come into my humble abode so we can hash out your proposal", Baron Rooijakker said with a tone of mirth and excitement. And lots of hand gestures it sourly noted.
"Of course, Baron" it bowed in the demure fashion, before following him in the exact opposite of his wife's office. Clean and uncluttered, but sparse in the extreme. Nothing but a simple desk, three carbon fiber chairs, and a simple data pad were everything that dominated the space.
"Dudu if you wouldn't mind coming with, yes stand right there, this shouldn't take too long", the baron said sitting behind the desk, combing his beard with his hands. "I got the recording from my… wife about your proposal. I must say I'm surprised; I didn't expect the old witch to crumple under whatever blackmail your boss had on us."
It had become aware in this instance that Dudu had the Crossfire battle rifle pointed at the back of its head. Not that it was surprising, this was one of the scenarios it had planned for. "Unsurprising considering your children could be considered abominations under Citadel and System Alliance Law, she had little choice in the matter. After all she is just a mother. "
Baron Gunter leaned back, combing his beard with his hands, "Ok. I sort of expected, 'you have this all wrong' or 'sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about'. You're different from the last one Hades sent."
Unexpected but it was still not surprising, obviously things hadn't gone to plan with the last Shade sent out. It started priming the device. "Yes, well the previous Shade seems to have failed, so I was sent instead. Sad that my master didn't tell me about that, but regardless we are speaking of you not me." It tented its fingers in its lap, "I would try to blackmail you with information I have on your carnal relationship with your valet Dudu, who I should mention is Brazilian, yet it would be futile in the end. You never surrender. You didn't surrender at Shanxi. You didn't surrender when you watched your marines die of hunger and thirst in Shanxi's deserts. And you didn't certainly never surrendered when threatened by half of the high lords of Sol. Or exposure of your children"
He seemed to eye her for a second, before glancing presumably to Dudu. "I think I liked the last Shade. Dudu this one is all veiled threats and direct blackmail. Though the last one tried to make me sleep with him."
It heard the voice behind him, chuckle low laugh. "I told you a long time ago, Ó chefe, you have terrible taste in men. If I hadn't been there…"
The baron rolled his eyes, "Yes. I expect that he would've strangled me in my sleep or something even more depraved than that. Now for you Shade. Yes, I know what you are. A depraved experiment created by my old archenemy Richard Williams. An experiment that smacks of hubris and insanity. Clones brainwashed with hypnotic instruction and crafted personalities, equipped with implanted grey boxes with memories of previous clones. Throwaway attack dogs and messengers of Hades. I would think that Williams would have a little more respect for me."
It paused for second, this third rank Baron was far more informed than the information that it had been provided, dangerously so. "To a degree. My instructions were not to blackmail you because that would be useless. Instead, I was instructed to offer a trade. Let us have Ars Huenetics to do as we please for the benefit of humanity and we would provide information on where the rest of Dudu's family is."
It felt the barrel of the Crossfire rifle press into the back of its head, "Que porra é essa?Don't fucking jerk us around, clone. We all know where my family is, in a fucking commissariat mass grave."
It kept very still, watching the device priming status climb. "If you believe that go ahead and shoot me. But considering the debt Baron Rooijakker has to your father, I would think both of you would do anything to know that your family is currently the slaves of a certain high caste Batarian."
It looked directly into the Baron's eyes, "If you play ball with Hades, we can provide you with intel, troops, ships and other resources to go rescue them. If not, good luck trying to get into the Batarian empire in one piece."
The voice behind it swore, or thought he swore. "Diexa-te. Ó chefe, we should blow away this puta before she spreads more lies, I can't bear it." It felt the barrel sway in the back of its head.
The baron eyes were darting up and down, between it and Dudu. "If she's right, then…" The baron pushed up from the desk and walked around to stand in front of it.
Dudu from behind it said, "IF if, she's right then it's fucking Faustian bargain. And I don't think I can trust this thing without some sort of proof."
It chuckled, one full of false mirth and something else hidden. "Of course, I would be disappointed if you trusted my word impeccably. Inside my purse will be an OSD that contains some photos of said family members in Batarian custody."
The baron snatched its purse away from it, emptying its contents on the desk behind it. The baron picked through make up accessories, and other miscellanies, before picking up the OSD. "Is this it?"
It looked at him for a second, before nodding. It's HUD displayed that the device was nearly primed, just a minute or two longer then it'll be ready. It began pushing the recent memories off its local grey box to its central grey box off world.
The baron jammed the OSD into his data pad, before pressing a couple buttons brought up the data in the OSD. He looked at its body with eyes of utter rage, before throwing his data pad so hard against one of the windows. That it crashed through the window and flew out to pasture below. "What is this!" The baron screamed with undisguised rage.
It pushed the last of its recent memories from its local grey box to the quantum entangled grey box on the other side of the galaxy, before looking at the angry visage of Gunter. "A distraction. "Before the flash clone's embedded micro fusion nuclear explosive annihilated it, Gunter, Dudu, and much of the office in radiating nuclear fire.
Its new body was imposing, striking, gigantic. Its body was full of muscle, and more muscle. It couldn't think as clearly as before. That was ok. Hades was pleased. The mission was accomplished. Gunter and Dudu were dead.
Evidence planted on the aircar it had arrived in and the OSD given to Kaja implicated her in the assassination of Gunter and Dudu. Project Lada was full go. Kaja committed suicide before she could be taken by the commissars for questioning. Ars Huenetics was inherited by one Gunter's children who was more than happy to cooperate with Hades goals. Mission Accomplished.
It had a new mission. It was a simple mission Hades said. It liked simple missions. Just had to take its grey box on a journey. They said it would be a once in a lifetime mission. It liked exciting missions.
TempestasAurum Second Story: Free?
TempestasAurum's A/N: My last story for the LP's WriteCon was ok, but it didn't satisfy me totally. I'm more used to writing up Pathfinder tabletop homebrew campaigns, than writing short stories. So, I made a second attempt, and this is the result. I'm not totally satisfied with this either, but I feel I added significant worldbuilding to the Watson system and shipping industry that LP can use in the future, if so needed.
Som Rattana's day was getting worse. If such a thing was even possible considering her unimaginable bad luck that had occured in the past 24 hours.
First the refrigeration and stasis modules had broken down for the main bulk cargo space. Nearly spoiling 16,800 tons of asari Pela grains. It was through Paul's heroic efforts of salvaging the refrigeration system and cannibalizing a part of their own air conditioning system that saved the cargo. Needless to say, while it kept the fruit and grain cool for the short term, the problem was that the ship was hotter than a commissariat sweatbox.
Second, one of the new technicians that signed up for this run had accidentally, accidently put a hole through the main hydrogen-3 fuel line. She had also started a small fire in a workstation not 4 meters away. Of course any fire on a spaceship traveling millions of kilometers per second was unimaginably bad news. The fact that the new technician didn't alert anyone until the fire tripped the emergency foam in the middle lunch rush certainly didn't help her case. Though honestly Som should be counting her blessings, if that fire reached the hole that was spewing out helium-3 vapors the ship would have popped like a volus without a suit on. The technician was now locked in her cabin for the rest of the journey, for all their sakes.
Third, the other new technicians who signed up, decided it was a good idea to break open specially ordered bottles of Akantha and Elasa which were headed to Watson. Bottles that were ordered by one of Watson's foremost Lords of Sol. If that wasn't bad enough, they got drunk enough they thought it was a good idea to fool around in an escape pod. Of course, because of her luck they ended up jettisoning from the ship into a major space lane. Nearly causing them to be smashed to pieces by a volus mega freighter. And of course, they were broadcasting their incompetence on all frequencies for all to see. She had a volus captain threaten to sue her for space littering. She didn't even know that was a thing. When those elcor turds were back aboard, she had them imprisoned with the other technician.
Fourth because of all the previous issues they were having, they were nearly two days behind schedule. With irate investors and clients wanting status updates every 30 minutes for the past 24 hours Som had been locked in her own Cabin trying to keep her financial network from burning down as well. Not an easy task, especially one of her delicate disposition. Or more succinctly, her rough hewed personality that did more to piss people off than gravitate towards her.
Now as they've performed the jump relay into the Skepsis System, their main spaceship TTL & ISCS transmitter decided it was time to go on a well deserved vacation between the gulfs of space between mass relays. This was absolutely the worst problem to have. Without communications they were liable to be shot at by one of those paranoid lunatics from Watson. She was wondering if the offerings she gave to the last shrine she was at had brought her the wrong kind of luck. Then again, considering what shape her ship was in maybe there was some luck in that they were still in one piece.
Putting on a gold leaf on the back of a Buddha was an old ship. Like really really old. It began its life as a Batarian slave transport 2 centuries before FCW, shipping slaves and cargo across the Batarian Hegemony. Twenty-four years ago, it was boarded and 'liberated' by an assortment of early corsair forces, who promptly sold it to Som's father for a relatively cheap price. Since then, the old batarian structure had been expanded with an amalgamation of magnetically detachable external cargo modules, welded on armor plates, and bolted on colonial habitat modules. Resembling more a lumpy ball of ancient legos that's been just excavated after 150 years in the ground than an interstellar starship. She only had recently eaten the old merit of her father after her less than stellar service with the Systems Alliance Navy. She was beginning to wonder if the universe itself was trying telling her something.
She had to tuck those ramblings and thoughts away when she arrived on her cramped closet of a bridge. The bridge which was a single narrow compartment spaced 1.2 meters by 1.6 meters usually had six chairs, 2 in the front and 4 along the sides, facing their respective consoles; pilot, copilot, communications, sensors, engineering and astronavigation respectively. However, when she appeared in the doorway she discovered most of the chairs had been uprooted and had been stationed by the astronavigation console as a team of technicians worked on the comm console; speaking spanish as they worked.
"Talk to me Bituin, what's the damage?" She asked her ship's chief communications officer, a filipino with an unusual history and a string of bad marriages, longer than the Local Cluster to Omega Nebula shipping route.
"Still figuring it out Captain. Most of Paul's crew is still fixing the electrical damage from the foamers going off. We're still having power fluctuations throughout the whole system. And top it off the computer system is still as glitchy as Manila's air recycling system." Bituin shrugged his tired shoulders.
Som held her head in hand for a second, it was increasingly looking like her ship was headed to certain doom. "I was hoping more of a status update on the communications system"
"Oh, that's fixed." Bituin gave her a sardonic grin and wave, "Well mostly. At the moment we're tapping into the old unused Batarian BBRC communication systems. We should hopefully be able to do text communication with port authorities."
Som sighed dramatically, "Smart thinking Bituin, for a second…" she looked around at the technicians and then at Bituin. "Wait.. where's Arnbjorg, who's piloting the ship?!"
"Oh, Arnbjorg went to have a shower, had the VI plot a course to Crick" Bituin said, rubbing his right shoulder, "She said, she would be back in a bit to bring us in."
"And how long ago was that? I swear she takes more breaks on watch than an addict takes hits" Som huffed.
She snapped at Bituin, "Go get her and tell her to get her pale whore's ass ready as soon as possible. I don't trust that VI considering it decided to nearly FTL the ship into one of Akuzes moons not five months ago."
Som paced forward, wrenching a chair from the corner and bolting it back into place into the pilot's slot. "I'll pilot the rest of the way in, next time inform Arnbjorg that she should inform me when she wants to go on break."
Some days it felt like everything was going wrong. Unfortunately the way things were going lately. It was like a checklist of problems she had to check off each day. The ship falling to pieces around her? Check. Unreliable or idiotic crew? Check. Crew doing something stupid on shore leave? Check. Client unhappy? Check. It just went on and on. As her hands danced on the controls, taking the VI offline and piloting the ship toward Crick, she had to wonder whether this was all worth it. Whether all the good she was doing was worth it.
Going to Watson itself was impossible. Festooned with orbital defenses, mass drivers and swarms of fighters, made it so that only military or corporate shipping traffic could reach Watson. For everyone else they headed toward Crick. The fourth planet in the Skepsis System was a rocky planet with a thick atmosphere made up of carbon dioxide and monoxide. It had enough pressure that it allowed for most humans to get by with breathing masks and environmental suits, not full on hardsuits. This was incentive enough for many corporate mining firms to begin strip mining its rich deposits of iridium, potassium salts and rare earths. By this virtue, it also made it an ideal location to drop off charge and shipments headed to Watson.
Orbital station To Be Cricket, supposedly named after an idiom from a sport that nearly went extinct in the Days of Iron, was a thick obtuse triangular prism with docking gantries and berthes lining its superstructure. Swarms of heavy ladened cargo shuttles and pinnaces could be seen either dropping off ore or making a return trip to the planet's surface.
By the time Bituin had returned with a visibility angry Arnbjorg, followed closely behind by the mirthful Vladimir the ship's sensor/science/know-it-all, Som had piloted the ship toward To Be Cricket's defense perimeter. Som spoke up from her chair, "Bituin strap into the comms console, Arnbjorg you'll be copilot and Vladimir will be monitoring sensors. I don't know whether the Bituin's fix worked, but better have your eyes watching for patrol boats or fighters Vladimir. Copy that everyone? "
Vladimir laughed before taking his seat. Bituin grunted as he snuggled himself into his seat in front of the com console, his omni-tool already flashing orange ready to be used. Arnbjorg sat next to her, cheeks red and eyes thin and angry. Som wondered sometimes why she didn't find a better pilot than Arnbjorg, of course she then remembered better pilots usually demanded more money. Money she didn't have.
As Bituin started hailing the station from his omni-tool. Vladimir hissed a warning, "Boss, we've got big trouble. A Garrison-class patrol boat just broke off its patrol header, and its heading for us."
She then heard a yelp from Bituin, "Incoming message captain, from the S-4 G562 Garrison-class patrol boat asking for our heading, contents of our cargo, and why we aren't responding on TTL."
"Tell them the bad news Bituin, and pray to Victor that we aren't torped right now." Som rolled her shoulders, hoping that Bituin's fix actually worked.
Bituin spoke into his omni-tool, "G562, this is the tramp freighter Putting on a Gold leaf to the back of a Buddhi. Ship ID 5ZK5PFWF3V and commissiarit authorization code RM-391-KVG-102. Our heading is to orbital station To Be Cricket, we are carrying mostly asari agricultural products and artisan wares. At this time our TTL and ISCS transmitters were lost in our recent relay transfer. Roger over."
For a good ten minutes they sweated it out, as the patrol boat orbited around the centerline of the ship's superstructure. It's guns and torps pointed at the ship. Before Vladimir cheered when the patrol boat broke off its orbit. Som glanced behind her toward Bituin, "Well?".
Bituin grimaced as he read the outbound traffic from the patrol boat, "The patrol boat says we need to go to berth 108A to confirm that we are who we say we are. Customs and security inspectors will be waiting there."
Som could only think of one thing to say, "Shit".
Som's usual response to custom officials was a mixture of three options. One way was merely to comply with their byzantine and esoteric procedures, doing the paperwork, paying the customs and getting on her way. Another way was to bribe the offending official off so that they could drop cargo at a far reduced cost than would ordinarily possible. Of course with the commissariat beginning to take a greater handle on shipping and customs after the Nova Scotian disaster, that option was turning far more dangerous than before. The third way was flying on a major corpo shipping flag, which they did rarely, that automated the whole process into sending shipping manifests and paying a fee. For the most part, she usually did it the first way. But having customs and security officials traipse across her decks, checking her cargo or what not, meant that she was gravitating toward the second option at this moment.
Unfortunately for her she discovered that her welcoming community was already on the docking pier when Arnbjorg guided the ship into the birth. From what she could see from her ship's external camera, two individuals and a large clumping of mechs were waiting for her. Sighing to herself, Som pulled on the last bit of her patchy and ill-fitting environmental suit before leaving the safe confines of her ship, into the murky danger that waited her below.
The two individuals she discovered waiting for her were neither ones she was used to dealing with on To Be Cricket and were diametrically opposed to each other. One of them was a tall, dark and stocky human Indian male, wearing the official colours of the Systems Alliance Customs Agency, stark white with blue paneling. Offset him was a short Asari by Asari standards, no more than 1 meter 47 centimeters by her guesstimation, in the colors of the To Be Cricket security team, stark white with orange stripes. What was bizarre was that the Asari had no facial tattoos or marking at all, just pure purple skin that made her look all the more creepy. Most Asari she had dealt with had at least some facial markings or something, so whatever the significance of this was it was likely bad news for her.
The human of the pair began, his deep nasally voice droning off his repeated script, "Captain of the... " the human rolled his eyes, "Putting gold leaf on the back of a Buddha, please confirm your identity before myself and our security team member before we begin".
Som sighed and bowed, "Of course sir, Som Rattana former Petty Officer 1st Class of the System Alliance Navy; currently captain of Putting gold leaf on the back of a Buddha and Class III citizen with special commissariat waver for travel restrictions. I'm carrying 16,800 tons of pela grains, 2,900 tons of dried flame tree pears, 1,000 tons of canned filari seaweed, 944 kilograms of Rileris seaweed paper, and 5 crates respectively of Akantha & Elasa bottles from Sanves to Crick."
The custom officials nodded at this, before extending a datapad and a DNA swab for her to use. "Please remove your gloves in order to confirm biometric data as well as an oral swab to prove who you say you are".
When she had done as she had been asked, and the result came back proving her identity, the customs official stiffened. "Gave us quite a scare there for a second, what with your decision to fly around in a batarian shit bucket. Nearly had us thinking this was an infiltration job from those 4 eyed scissored toothed vamps that call themselves a species." He gestured to his companion, "Still it wouldn't hurt to catalogue the crew and confirm your cargo."
Som narrowed her eyes, "Sir, would that be unnecessary. You've confirmed my identity. Why go to all the trouble of cross checking everything in a beaten down tramp freighter."
The custom official raised an eyebrow, before glancing at his companion before launching into a tirade. "So I can do my job. Yes, we've confirmed your identity, but no one else's. Besides, we need to confirm you're actually carrying what you say you're carrying. It's as simple as that."
Som was afraid of this, she could feel her hand start to shake a little bit before steadying it. "Not unexpected, I'll be sure to bring out the crew as soon…"
The custom official held out his hand to stop her. "That won't be necessary. I'll go aboard with the mechs to make sure everything is in order."
She scoffed, "Sir, I have to protest this action. While I will accommodate your inquiry, poking through every compartment of my ship hunting for invisible Batarians will compromise the schedule that I'm currently expected to follow. Besides, can't we work out something to avoid this little incident."
He looked at her like she just shat in his meal, "No, this little ship has been flagged in the past for certain incidents. I think thorough search will either alleviate my concerns or confirm them. Regardless of the case, you'll stay here with my associate or I'll have you locked up attempting to bribe a Systems Alliance Customs Official."
She tried to protest, but he brushed her aside nearly causing her to stumble to the floor. When she tried to make a call to Bituin, the so far silent Asari grabbed her hand before she could do so. "Don't bother Orange, Rakesh is just trying to score points with his boss and your ship just happened to catch his eye as an easy mark."
Som froze like a deer in the headlights, her head turning to stare unblinkingly at the diminutive Asari, "I'm sorry what did you say?"
"Orange, that is your codename isn't it?" The Asari had let go of her hand now, and was now leaning against the docking pier's handrails. Her face was one of self satisfaction.
"The matriarch said to use that codename to get your attention." The Asari grinned at that, all lips no teeth. "But by the goddess, I didn't think you would freeze like dartfish in a nexa's jaws." The Asari laughed harshly.
Som was unnerved, "Who are you?" This Asari was very strange. It didn't preface any of the conversation with Siari signs. It was speaking in english without an accent. And its body language screamed human, very unlike the regular Republic Asari that Som had dealt with over the last year.
Asari twirled one of her hands as if to brush away Som's questions, "No names here. Just know that Rakesh's mechs that he brought with have a backdoor in their built-in scanners that should neutralize anyone discovering your secret cargo. So, you can relax."
"Like I believe that, I thought the Lucen's Abyss didn't have any pull," Som hissed, her problems becoming a rollercoaster of emotions. Shear fear and panic one second to uncertain relief on the other.
"When you first talked to us, sure. We were not but a couple of clanless matriarchs and a couple dozen supporters who could barely scrape enough money to support this endeavor. Since then? We have not been idle. Our sisters have spread themselves throughout the entirety of the system, enough so to keep this operation going for the indefinite future."
"The matriarch also informed us about your plan to leave us. She sent me here to persuade you to change your mind." The asari crooked her head at Som, her eyes looking Som over like some predator in the jungle.
Som swallowed apprehensively. "Yeah, I can't be doing this endeavor anymore."
Asari eyed, a gentle smile touching her lips, "Any particular reason? Or just a human's flight of fancy?"
"As I said, I can't do this anymore. Running clanless Asari under the blockade is becoming more and more dangerous. And the costs are starting to pile up trying to run a freighter that's held together with duct tape, gum, and hope isn't going to last anymore. I don't know if I can last anymore." Som growled.
Of course they would send someone, she cursed her optimism that she could just drop off the cargo and charge before they sent their agents against her. She was in blind, both she and Asari knew it. The Asari obviously could shut off their backdoor to mechs, and surprise, surprise; look there's a cargo container under the pela grain! My! The customs official would have a field day with that.
The asari half nodded, "Certainly can see that. TTL transmitters falling off your ship like pebbles falling off a cliff during a gale is a most fell sign. You've worked for us, for what 18 months?"
Som nodded hestitantly, remembering the first time she carried a desperate clanless across the great gulf of space, nearly having a heart attack when they were hailed by commissariat pinnace. Then felt like a spirit let loose, when it turned out to be just the commissars checking out the ship's registration. And then getting her payment, that made the whole run profitable. Doing good deeds and making a profit, as her father would say, the essence of living.
"Our sisters have spread far and wide, even once closed off avenues are now open to us. We now have contacts in human shipyards and businesses that were closed off to us. So you leaving us is... " The Asari seemed to think for a second before pursing her lips. "Is nonoptimal for us. However, we are open to helping you solve this particular problem." The Asari shifted her gaze from Som to the ship.
Som push down the urge to laugh, like they could afford a ship at this stage. "Forgive me, but I find it laughable that you have enough money to outright buy a new freighter. If you had that kind of money, I doubt you would be hiring smugglers like me."
The Asari shifted her gaze back on Som, her eyes narrowing just enough, "As I said, we've new avenues that were closed to us open up. And there many other new supporters that wish to help the clanless rid themselves of yoke of the Republic. Buying a new freighter would be but a pittance to them. I certainly don't have all the details and since your ship is likely not going anywhere soon. Come to Watson and speak with my Matriarch, she and you can hash out the details."
Som inclined her head, "Or what if I don't accede, you'll turn off the backdoor?"
The Asari giggled, a long girly giggle full of mirth and something much darker. "That would be mindless and imprudent, nevermind getting a fair few of our sisters killed for no more than a disagreement with their transporter. As I said, relax. Rakesh is no more threat than a dart fish in the shallows."
Asari sighed, "Why don't you think about it. I'll make sure your misstep from earlier doesn't result in anything of substance. So stay here and think about what I said as I go rein in Rakesh before his conspiratorial senses go overboard." With that the Asari left, leaving Som.
Som turned around and leaned against the railing, her thoughts of maelstrom of fears, greed and exasperation. She gazed out across the other stations births, lined with vessels large and small. Some were luxury pinnaces dropping charge and refueling, others were giant freighters bigger than her own picking or dropping off cargo. If the Asari said was true, she could be captaining one of those vessels one days unlike the giant turd she was captaining. Or this could be a hidden trap of some variety.
Som sighed, it's not like she had any choice. As much as she wanted to leave this all behind, sell her ship and go retire on some class II world, the chance of getting a new ship was not one to pass up. Maybe even hire some competent help for a change. Or at least have enough of a breathing room, to train up some help. But she would have to make the journey to Watson to figure this all out. She just realized her omni-tool was blinking, she quickly opened it and found herself talking to Bituin again.
"Bituin, enjoying the Customs official? Sorry, I was engaged with words with some security officials about the stunt we just pulled."
"Yeah, about that. I've got some bad news." Bituin's voice was nervous.
"Don't tell me he's dead." This day is getting worse and worse.
"No, but he's in kind of bad shape. He and his mechs were standing on a piece of grating before it collapsed under them, could you perhaps get some help there in bad shape? Can't seem to reach the station." Som knew then and there what her answer was there and then. That her ship was out to fuck her over.
Ventrix Story: Aria
AN: "Logical Premise I have no authors note, please insert something embarrassing here"
LP: "Sure thing (troll expression)
The room was dark. The only light was slowly shifting blues and purples from the walls near the floor. The barest illumination revealed the hint of intertwined limbs, bodies, and sheets in a bed. There was no sound but for the gentle breathing of the bed's occupants.
The peace was disturbed by a quiet chime. A sigh broke the silence of the darkness a moment before one of the bed's occupants moved and sat up. The near darkness revealed almost nothing of the figure that shifted and moved legs were rotated over the side of the bed.
Then the darkness was broken by the orange of an omni-tool activating. The haptic interface illuminated the room, the oranges illuminating naked flesh and silk as if a warm fire was burning. The omni-tool's owner studied the display silently for a few moments before the haptic construct disappeared.
The figure did not return to the bed and its waiting occupants. Instead they pushed up on the bed until they stood on the floor. They did not look back as silent steps carried them swiftly from the room.
Outside her bedroom the female stood naked. The hallway was dimly lit as she walked forward. Her footsteps light as she advanced down the hallway. The Asari emerged into the central area of her living quarters. She walked around the sunken level of the gathering area, avoiding the couches and steps in the darkness. Her bare feet carried her swiftly over carpet, then hardwood, and finally to tile as she made it to the kitchen of her home.
Her naked purple skinned form was briefly illuminated by the light of the cryo-thermal storage unit she pulled a sealed canister from, before the closing of the door pushed her back into darkness. She turned in the darkness and walked back, but rather than return to the bedroom she instead made her way over to the side of the room.
Her body sank smoothly into a couch set against the wall. She wiggled for a moment until she could feel the comfortable press of the hard shape of a pistol nestled between the couch cushions. Her attention remained on the canister in her hands that were slowly manipulating the object she held. The lid was removed and into the opening she dipped the tip of her pinky into the container. When she felt the almost unnoticeable vibration from her implanted poison detector she raised the canister to her lips and drank.
After a moment the Asari extended a hand to her side, her hand flaring briefly with biotic energies as she used her precise telekinetic abilities to activate the shutter controls for the window behind her. The blue corona of energy around her hand died as her naked purple body was bathed in the burnished oranges and reds that illuminated all of Omega.
Minutes would pass as she just sat there, sipping from the canister. She sat there, waiting, until finally there was a chime of an incoming from her omni-tool. She glanced at the caller origin and there was the barest of moments, only a heartbeat, of hesitation before she activated the call. She said nothing at first, the person on the other end silent for a few long moments until the caller finally spoke breaking the stalemate.
"Aria, I know you're there."
The voice was familiar for the warlord that sat naked on the couch in the darkened room. Her lips curled at the edge of her mouth even as she leaned forward and set the canister on the floor by her feet. Drink set away for the moment she leaned back and folded her hands in her lap before replying
"Nyreen. My, this is a surprise."
The response was of course immediate, the tone derisive. It was a sound of disbelief that told any that heard it that the speaker did not believe what she had been told.
"Bullshit. You knew I was already here two days ago."
Aria folded her hands together on her lap as she raised a leg and crossed it.
"Actually it was three days ago. However you are correct. Still I suppose it doesn't matter in the end. What can I do for you Nyreen?"
The caller, Nyreen, was a study in contrasts. Though only a few words had been said by each, both were opposites in tone. Aria, was as calm as always, while Nyreen's voice carried loaded emotions years old.
"Do for me? Why do you think I want something, no not something, anything from you?"
The words were challenging, not shouted, but still loaded with intensity that might be present from one person right in the face of another, challenging, argumentative. Aria just smirked, her lips curling in the shadows of her face as her eyes slowly traced the lines of light coming through the shutters behind her as they played out across the floor of her home.
"Because, everyone wants something from me. You were beside me long enough to know that. The only question is what they want. Given how you vanished from my bed in the middle of the night and we aren't having this conversation face to face I think I'd say you aren't trying to pick up where we left off."
There was silence for long moments. Aria didn't press though, she didn't prod, she just let the void of the silence do that as it lingered until finally Nyreen's voice broke the silence once more, pulled in by the gravity of the void from the emotional difference between them even through a simple verbal communication.
"I see you haven't changed at all. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I certainly don't know why I am."
Aria laughed lightly, her head tilting back in the movement as her chuckles filled the darkness of her home.
"Because that's what drew you to me. I was how did you put it? A 'Fierce creature that didn't let anyone define me' was it? I've always planted my flag where everyone can see who I am and what I stand for. How about you Nyreen? Have you planted your flag?"
The question was soft. The silence built as Aria bent forward to grab the canister by her foot and pull it up to take another sip of its contents while she waited for long moments.
"Spirits, you are…"
Aria's eyes narrowed slightly as her lips firmed for a moment.
"Go on. I am what? Unyielding? A tyrant? A murder? A criminal? What are you going to label me with, Nyreen? Go ahead. I can assure you I've heard them all."
The response was immediate and Aria leaned farther back into her couch as the effects of her words slipped between the armor Nyreen had constructed around her emotions regarding Aria herself. The words which were almost hissed the opposite of a raging shout, like the speaker could not deny them but was pained to even speak them.
"Unchanging… I don't… I don't know why I ever thought you would change from the moment I saw you for who you are."
Aria lightly sighed her head tilting back to rest against the back of her couch.
"I didn't change because I have always shown myself for who I am. You were the one who expected me to have some mysterious depth. You saw me for me. I do not hide who I am. I never have Nyreen. I'm not like the fools among all the rest of the Thirty. I deceive and defy through remaining as I always am. They change and adapt, they twist and they squirm until their fingers are wrapped around everything."
"I certainly adapt and adjust my plans as needed. But I do not hide who I am. I remain unchanged, I have always made it perfectly clear just who and what I am. And you knew that from the moment you saw me then, just as you are seeing me right now."
There was only a moment of hesitation now.
"How many snipers do you have watching me?"
Aria only gave a shrug as she just sat there, a movement for the darkness as there was no one else in the room with her.
"Enough. I told you, I've known you were here for three days. I could have killed you at any point in that time and I didn't. But, just because I did not doesn't mean I didn't have you watched. You will have to find someone else to smuggle you back into Citadel Space by the way."
There was a ton of irritation verging on quiet anger as the hum of the Turian voice speaking to Aria replied.
"Did you have to kill all the Talons for just smuggling me into Omega Aria?"
Aria just snorted in amusement at the reply.
"I killed their leaders because they thought they could avoid lying and not pay me what I'm owed for the safety of using Omega for their business. The gang is already vanishing or being swept up by the others moving in on their territory and by the end of three more days I expect Omega will have heard the end of the Talons completely."
"The fact that they smuggled you out of the Citadel and into Omega didn't matter into my decision on what to do with them at all."
The final words were spoken as an afterthought. Because in many ways it almost was. It wasn't like Aria felt that she needed to justify herself or her actions. There were few beings that had ever existed that evoked that need from her. Aria certainly wasn't going to feel that urge from just one of thousands of lovers she'd had over the centuries… even if…
In the darkness Aria frowned for a moment before her self-musings were interrupted by Nyreen's voice.
"Yes because you're Aria T'Loak and you can do anything without fear of retribution."
Mocking sarcasm saturated the words until they practically dripped with it. Aria just frowned at the interruption Nyreen's words created for her thoughts.
"You still haven't said you wanted from me Nyreen. An apology? An epiphany? Perhaps simple closure? You won't find any of them here. You may be able to find anything and everything imaginable in Omega's markets but you won't find the last one here, not even when you're looking through the scope of your sniper rifle to find it."
"So sure about that Aria? Because I would say I'm looking at closure right now through it and I think I can live with it right now."
Aria just gave a soft shake of her head.
"Nyreen you can lie to the rest of the galaxy and yourself if you want but don't bother trying to lie to me. You may be unwilling to admit the truth to yourself but you became more like me than you know. And if you could truly find closure here, you would have already pulled the trigger instead of calling me. This conversation isn't some quest for redemption. You're stalling, to convince yourself somehow that you need to run from me again."
"What reasons are you telling yourself? That it won't change anything? That it'll make things worse for everyone on Omega? That I have 'goodness' inside of me and can be redeemed? All you're doing right now is running from your problem like you did before."
Aria rose up from her seat in a smooth movement before turning around to look around the shutters at Omega outside her home.
"Time to decide Nyreen. Are you going to run again? Or have you finally decided that you want to be like me?"
The silence lingered on for moments until a beep from her wrist indicated the call had been ended. Aria just stood there for a moment before she raised her arm and her omni-tool appeared around her arm. A touch of a finger displayed the sight of Nyreen extracting herself from her crow's nest sniper perch, the Turian's sniper rifle already compacted for carry and transport.
Aria just canceled the feed before she walked over to the side and touched the controls for the window shutters with her hand. They closed once more, cutting the Asari off from the outside world. Darkness descended on her fully once more as she walked through her home once more. Memory of her home's layout carried her safely into the kitchen where she pulled out a fresh drink canister.
She repeated her customary poison check before she sat on a stool at the kitchen island. And in the darkness Aria would sit, her drink untouched as she grappled alone and in the dark with the fact that for all that Nyreen had wanted to be like her, even after years now Aria still retained her own traces of Nyreen in her actions as she simply watched the video feeds from her snipers as she simply sat there, alone, and watched Nyreen flee once again. Finally she looked up at the dark ceiling and admitted a truth to herself.
"Perhaps Nyreen you are like me after all…"
And with that Aria ended the video feeds of her omni-tool for the final time and took her drink in hand as she performed her own flight from her problems, and drank.
NPC Story: The Insight
DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 66-61-6b-65-20-6e-65-77-73
This is a broadcast from the Public Task Group private media corporation. All translations of its contents are guild compliant as verified by the Salarian Union Ministry of Guilds.
Initiate haptic display:
The recorder focused on the head of a salarian male sitting behind a large wooden desk. He absently flipped through the pile of commercial one time padds as the recorder slowly pulled back, bringing the rest of the room into focus. Comm uplinks and extranet terminals lined the back wall in neat rows, which were only dimly visible as the lighting shifted to shade the room.
The salarian spoke in an upbeat voice. "Greeting brothers, this is Sheqer of the Public Task Group. We have a special debate topic today in response to recent events on Illium."
"In this endeavor we have Dhalash Adept Airek Yaan." The announcer gestures to his left at an older salarian male, with intricate horn pattern and draped in pointedly archaic robes.
"Always pleased to be of service," croaked the elder, "especially in chaotic times." His voice is accompanied with the clink of the small chain necklace and medallion sporting the well known but rarely seen Dhalash sigil.
"In concert, we are joined by Maiq Ergii, a seven year veteran of corporate security." The announcer gestures to his right, towards a sharply dressed salarian male sporting the Beksinston style suit in a salarian cut.
"Fulfilling to be put to the test against such distinguished company." The younger salarian said while gesturing towards his elder directly opposite of him.
The recorder focused back on the announcer. "The topic today is a motive contemplation on the human survivalist group Cerberus. Adept Yaan, you have the comm."
The elder salarian leaded back into his chair and flicked the end of his kilick stick into an ash tray. "When speaking of humans, remember humans rarely use violence as a method for political change, outside of border adjustments. The violent actors are the ones trying to prevent political or social change."
Adept Yaan paused to take a drag on his kilick stick before continuing, "The primary focus of old Cerberus was always on economic leverage over human institutions, acquiring scientific knowledge by any means necessary to advance human tech-base, and arresting political developments in the Systems Alliance that were contrary to Cerberus's interests. Though I suspect the means will change with the new leadership of Cerberus, unlikely the ends will."
The younger salarian nervously adjusted his faux-tie as he spoke, "I agree with the last point, in actuality I would go further, the ends never changed."
In a jittery tone, the Ergii youngblood continued, "The Cerberus network has been pursuing a consistent policy of increasing the power of the Systems Alliance without expending the resources of the Systems Alliance."
Maiq's voice leveled out the longer he spoke as if gaining in confidence, "Through careful expenditures of resources Cerberus improved the diplomatic standing of the SA, manipulated events to force a SA officer into the Spectres, engineered a new balance of power, all while their best agent, cloaked with the staged destruction of her master and all his allies, took power in plain sight."
"My colleague's assertions are illogical." Interrupted Adept Yaan with a shake of his head.
After Yaan took another drag on his kilick stick, "Cerberus lost a huge amount of assets in a Citadel led police action, more assets then they were even suspected of having. The most notable event of that action was a near-renegade SA marine turned Spectre destroyed the Cerberus command reach."
Yaan leaned back into his chair, "No doubt Spectre Shepard executed all Cerberus leadership who would not re-align themselves. The Illusive Man is likely dead, and New Cerberus is using his memory as an emotional symbol, which humans are always vulnerable to, to preemptively sway SA citizens that would have opposed Shepard's incoming political ascension in the SA."
The Ergii suit pulled a pack of Terra Novan cigarillos from his breast pocket. In a wiry voice he replied, "With consideration given to the amount of warships and soldiers deployed by the Butcher, I'm not sure by what metric losses for Cerberus can be judged."
Maiq lit a cigarillo with a flame from his omni. While he spoke in a plain tone, "The assets Old Cerberus lost in the Benezia Incident were outdated warships and terror troops sourced from the wildcats colonies and other undesirables. The entire project was likely a multi-pronged scheme to weaken the wildcat movement, condition the political environment in the SA, and adjust astro-political forces to benefit Cerberus. This appears to be an ongoing process with the actions of the Butcher, Archangel, the Sisters of Vengeance, amongst others."
The younger salarian paused before continuing in a concerned tone. "When one examines the whole sequence of events leading towards the Citadel Council expansion, the Geth War, the Collapse of the Hegemony, and the rise of New Cerberus; an unlikely series of events verging on the staged."
Airek Yaan ground his kilick into his ashtray. The elder salarian used the distraction to make his voice heard. "The recent events on Illium and in the Traverse are not part of a grand plan. They are simply the beginnings of a well documented human human political phenomena known as Caesarism. A polity stricken by factionalism and infighting will be taken over by a popular military leader upon the invitation of the elites to prevent chaos."
"The Butcher is executing the same contingency plan as the surviving members of Old Cerberus did when the Citadel Council moved against Cerberus during the Benezia Incident. They found themselves overextended and out of position against a superior foe. All exposed assets were sacrificed and any internal enemies resisting Shepards take over were thrown to the Firaxan eels. Now this New Cerberus is a pawn of the Butcher in her own political maneuvers aimed for control of the human Systems Alliance"
The old Adept leaned back into his chair. "Now Shepard is burning her exposed assets for political gain or maximizing the damage they can do against her external enemies before finalizing her own deal with the Citadel Council. We know the Council sent other Spectres after the Butcher, she no doubt realized she was on a time limit and acted accordingly."
Yaan's Dhalash sigil jingled as he leaned forward. "Ultimately irrelevant if Shepard or Harper control New Cerberus. Human individual ideology shifts towards authoritarian-traditional or authoritarian-demagogic with advancements in rank and age. Human behavior remains consistent. Always remember, the primary victim of human terrorism is other humans. Best leave them alone and they will degenerate into feuding states or competing clans rapidly."
The recorder focuses back to the center of the screen and also slowly zooms in as the announcer speaks, "That concludes our debate. This is Sheqer of the Public Task Group signing out." With a white flash the program transitions to a black screen before terminating.
This was an official transmission and the only guild media approved for broadcast outside of the Salarian Union.
Keyes Story: Ezno, cold
The acrid smell of smoke, weapons fire, and death wafted through the air around the Terminus outpost-turned-warzone. Prefabricated habs sat in ruin, some still burning, some simply demolished. The central building stood out, hard avian lines revealing it to be an older turian frigate, which had been retrofitted to act as a pirate's paradise. It's hull was covered in carbon scoring, and the deck that once housed its GARDIAN array was nothing more than a melted slab of hull.
Striding out of a massive hole in the frigate at ground level was the towering bulk of an Alliance THERMOPYLAE battlesuit, itself only marginally better off than the shattered habs or frigate turned fortress. The drone rack and missile systems were entirely empty, its omni shield projector was nothing more than electronic scrap, and the barrels of the massive minigun attached to one arm were warped and smoldering from continuous fire. The suit stopped as it finally stepped onto solid ground. Its lights winked off, and the sound of damage alarms cut off.
The back of the suit came apart, unfolding and revealing a human male. His hair was short on the sides and dark, his eyes a shade of dark brown. His devastator armor was mostly intact, but he had still suffered wounds in the previous violence. He picked out a patch of medi gel to put on his bleeding temple and sat down on the ground before fishing out a cigar, and tapping the end, triggering its self-igniter function. Taking a puff, he surveyed his handiwork.
The dead vorcha scattered around the battlefield smelled of burning flesh, and numberless human corpses were strewn around in various states of mutilation. If one were to look inside the frigate, they would only find an abattoir of burning gore, all surrounding a slowly cooling krogan corpse in the center. His omni tool sprang to life in orange haptics, and a photo was projected on the screen. An attractive human woman and two young girls stared at the camera, their faces locked in wide, loving smiles.
They, like the krogan, had also died in a fire, the very reason the krogan had ended up like this. The man figured this was adequate justice served. The sound of engines met his ears as a batarian pinnace, of all things, came to rest at the other end of the compound.
The two figures that stepped out wore armored chest pieces under ballistic coats, common mercenary garb in the Terminus. What was uncommon was the massive machine gun on the larger one's back, and the monomolecular Jian sword the shorter one wore. They passed the corpses and habs, destroyed gunships and shuttles, even some older, burning human Merkava IX tanks.
The larger one whistled appreciatively at the carnage. "Damn, he'd fit right in with the rest of the Dog." His voice was big and boisterous, much like the man himself.
The shorter one snorted, his own voice soft, barely a rasping whisper. "That is why we are here. Keep your neanderthal charm, but allow me to lead the way, otherwise all we'll convey is a new collection of curses and obscure gun facts."
"Hell, that'd be enough for me."
A sigh was the only response the shorter one gave. They continued on until they were standing in front of the man responsible. He was the first to speak, his voice icy cold, his eyes as hard as the two men in front of him.
"The Odd Couple huh? I figure if you were here to kill me I'd already have a chest full of holes and my head would be rolling somewhere over there." He gestures towards a vorcha corpse. "Since you're not here to kill me, I assume you have business?"
The shorter figure, Kai Leng, stepped forward and answered. "Randall Ezno, you are clearly aware of who we are. Our principal wishes to consult with you on a matter of high importance. We are certainly not here to accost you."
The larger figure, Pel, spoke up. "Yeah, and don't sell yourself short. It wouldn't be that easy. Old Ahern has nothing but praise for you, now that the black hats are looking into your krogan killing spree."
Randall looked around, taking in his own pinnace and the other outlaw ships none of which would be classified as space-worthy. "This discussion will take place elsewhere? Preferably away from the Alliance forces tracking me."
Kai inclined his head towards their own Pinnace. "Very much so. Our principal is keen on secrecy."
Pel muttered "And melodrama."
Randall's face twinged, probably the closest thing to a smile one could get from him. "Let's cut the bullshit then." He got up and began walking. "I don't really have another option here."
The pinnace was comfortable. Despite its rough, well-used exterior, the interior looked like it belonged to a CEO, not the Odd Couple. Cushioned leather seats, top quality vidscreens, and fully stocked bar. Ezno sat in the passenger lounge, Pel was in the cockpit, and Kai Leng took over the engine room.
They had told him to stay where he was, and after the day he'd had, he was happy to live like the 1% and just think. His life had been everything he wanted. Ezno had impressed high command, and his career was promising.
He had married a beautiful, loving woman, and they had brought two little girls into the world. It was such a promising future, and it only took an hour for it to be shattered like glass.
The secure Alliance world of Bekenstein, just one jump from the mighty Citadel, seemed to be an ideal place for his family to live. He didn't know that being close to the alien races came with its own dangers. The criminal networks of the Terminus stretched far, ever moving into civilized space. Two rival gangs had had their sights on alliance space, and Bekenstein was the gateway in.
In their attempts to push out the competition, a building was turned into a warzone. His apartment building. If Elizabeth had just been a minute late getting the girls home from school, they would have avoided it. Weyrloc Raur liked to use incendiary weapons, and Ezno was the one who had to identify the charred corpses of his girls. As Ezno wept, he spent the savings he'd built up for his family on cybernetics to keep himself going, his tears frozen, emotions gone.
All he had was icy resolve.
The Alliance had failed, they didn't stop the criminals from getting on-world, and they didn't even capture them. Worse, still, they weren't even going to go after them. Completely unacceptable. Luckily enough, Admiral Ahern had thought the same thing, and just happened to know an unoccupied pinnace loaded for bear and ready to leave.
It took all of Ezno's skill to track the criminals of both gangs across the Terminus. A missile strike here, some sniping work on Omega, and soon it became clear to the gangs that they were being targeted. They went to ground on shithole worlds, except for Weyrloc Raur and his cronies, Who holed up in their fortress. One by one, they were snuffed out, until only Raur was left. Ezno turned the GTS to slag with his ship's last missiles, even as it went down.
He piloted his battlesuit out of the wreck, feeling nothing but resolve. An ending to all things, be it success or fail. Even after he had killed them all, he knew it wouldn't bring them back. The only thing he'd felt since their deaths was cold satisfaction at Raur's burning pleas.
Ezno knew that giving up was pointless. Despite the odds, he was alive, and he still had the capacity to continue fighting. He would, until he died, and on his own, without the Alliance he assumed that would be quick. Things are never that simple, however, and the odd couple had assured that. Ezno knew of the duo, famed as they were for their lethality and amusing nature, and a little of the organization they worked for.
He fought so that other people would not suffer as he has, but them? The things that their group did were arguably worse, in society's eyes at least, than the trash he killed, but would Terminus gangs ever have been able to get onto an Alliance world if they had been listened to? No, there would be no subservience to the aliens.
Pel stuck his head into the passenger area. "Leave your gear here, follow the haptics out of the hanger. Good luck with the bossman."
Ezno stands, but asks him a question before moving. "Any advice?"
"Yeah, boss is slippery, smarter than most, and dedicated. You have his interest, so he'll offer you a fair deal. You don't want it? He'll let you go, and cover your tracks. But, based on what I know of you, you'll be better off taking it."
Ezno nodded and headed down the ramp into the hangar.
Ezno stepped out into a large room, big enough for five pinnaces, if you squeezed them together. So far only one other ship occupied the stark white, black, and gold plated hangar. It was a brand new human model from Cord-Hislop Aerospace. Ezno was sure that the interior of the craft was the same as the one he was just on, only difference being that the exterior was befitting of such an expensive ship. Following the haptics, he went down a corridor.
The architecture was the same as the hangar, both devoid of any logos or insignia, unlike SA installations, and the deck plating soon gave way to designer carpets. As he stepped onto it, he felt the distinct hum of mass effect fields picking up the dirt and debris his boots left behind and carrying it to a disposal area, rather than trapping it. The walls were wood panelled, and had white flags hung on them.
Each flag was emblazoned with a black and orange hexagon symbol.
"So much for not following the alliance when it comes to logos."
A door opened into a large dark room with vaulted ceilings. Ahead were giant aquariums held in place by kinetic barriers. Ocean life from earth swam among Thessian coral reefs, truly a sign of unnecessary opulence in a space base. Ezno caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure watching him.
He was able to make out blue skin, obviously an Asari, but her skin was covered in harsh black markings. Her eyes were covered by her hood, and before he could make out more, a door closed in front of her, sealing her off from further investigation. He passed the aquariums and went through one more hall, this one filled with art from various human and alien cultures, before arriving in a room with a view of space.
It wasn't any system he recognized. A white dwarf star sat in the center of the view, with asteroids floating much closer. It was then he noticed two chairs, one of which was occupied. A human male, middle-aged, but in good shape, sat with his back to Ezno. Randall went up and took the other chair next to him, getting a good look. Graying hair in a smooth wave atop of his head, framing tanned skin. He wore clothes of fine make, a Black suit with Terra Novan silk shirt and tie. In his hands were a glass of brown liquid and a cigarette, the bottle and pack on a table next to him. The most dominant feature by far, though, was the man's eyes. They were clearly cybernetic, but the quality looked at least as good as the best the SA could produce, with vividly blue glowing irises. The man, who Ezno had only heard rumors of, opened his mouth to speak.
"It is truly a sad day when humanity's military has no more use for a man of your talents, wouldn't you say Mr. Ezno?"
"Yes, and now I am out of a job and wanted, but my intuition is telling me you have one for me Mr…"
"Just call me Illusive Man, Mr. Ezno. You have been on my radar for quite some time. Truly exemplary in your career, and I am not the only one who thinks so."
A haptic screen appeared, displaying Admiral Ahern's office on Pinnacle Station. The Admiral was sitting at his desk talking to two Commissars. It appeared to be a recording with subtitles.
Commissar: "At any point in his service did he appear unstable?"
Ahern: "Man was a goddamn ice cube, never cracked in combat, one of my best officers. If he's gone rogue, it's cause of an SA fuckup, nothing more."
The feed cut, leaving the room to the Illusive Man once more.
"Admiral Ahern is one of humanity's best, so much so that the Alliance stuck him in a backwater because they knew he wouldn't sign off on the things they did."
Ezno grunted in reply. "Are you really one to talk?"
The Illusive man smiled. "I believe I'm one of the only people who can speak on this matter. I founded this organization to protect humanity from alien infiltration, be that through espionage or economic subversion. I thought I had covered every angle, but I didn't cover the one I should have expected. The AIS took me in for a conversation with the High Lords. They liked what I was doing, but wanted more."
A dozen haptic screens appeared, showing a broadcast of two new heads of Cerberus. Richard William's deplorable research practices and General Rachel Florez's military forces, which to Ezno's eye, looked tailored to urban warfare.
The Illusive man turned to face Randall fully, eye to eye. "This is only the tip of the iceberg Mr. Ezno. The ones really in control of the Alliance have co-opted and corrupted the organization I founded as humanity's shield, but as I became sloppy in success years ago, so have they."
All but one screen blinked off, this one showing a page of a plan. What was peculiar about this one page was the operative it called for. This was Randall Ezno's place in Contingency: BENEDICT.
"You could go your own way, unsupported, alone. Or you could join me, and really put your talents to fixing things, unlike service in the Alliance."
Ezno's steely gaze doesn't flinch. "I think I really have only one answer."
"Excellent. Then consider this your enlistment bonus and first mission all in one"
The Illusive Man typed a command on his omni-tool. The haptic screen displaying an Alliance service record for Captain Damian Harris.
"This is the man who gave the order to allow Citadel criminal elements onto Bekenstein for extra funding. Do what you will with him, Mr. Pelham and Mr. Leng will be with you for this mission. Afterwards, they will show you to your new home, identity, etcetera."
Ezno took a deep breath, and exhaled before setting down his untouched glass. "Thank you for this opportunity."
The Illusive man had already called up a number of Haptic screens displaying galactic market data alongside his own information network.
"No, thank you, Mr. Ezno. Welcome to Cerberus."
Ezno could honestly say for the first time in weeks he felt content. Even after his jaunt through the Terminus, he only felt cold and empty. Now, he had purpose and a real future. The pain of his loss still stung, but, unlike others, he believed, rather than destroying oneself, it would be better to spend his time trying to be happy again. Elizabeth, Darcy, and Jennifer would have wanted him to.
Randall recalled his first operation with Cerberus. When he returned to the hangar at the base, Pel and Kai were waiting for him. Despite the banter and stabbings, the two were professionals, and had worked together for a very long time. He had been promised training opportunities, as well as cybernetic enhancement to catch up, but, until then, he had been provided top of the line equipment to get the job done. The team's landing on Bekenstein went off without a hitch - some big name Commissar had met them and waved them through - tracking the target had been smooth as well, the Illusive Man obviously had a very good hacker in his employ somewhere.
They had found Captain Harris on a balcony outside his apartment. Randall had guessed the figures inside were his family. The Odd Couple both told him that, from that point on, it was his show. He could have done all manner of things, and he remembered what he told the man when Kai retrieved him.
"That was your family up there right? Remember my family? The one I had to watch burn on your orders? It would be fair if I had firebombs placed up there and left you to watch from down here."
"Please, if you ki-"
Ezno punched him.
"I didn't give you permission to speak. Rest assured, I am not trash like you."
Captain Harris has a second to look relieved.
"I'm only cleaning it up."
Ezno fired a patch of omnigel onto the Captain's mouth, which hardened and sealed. Next, an incendiary bolt jumped out, setting Captain Harris alight, his screams unheard as he cooked alive. Randall watched until his struggling ceased.
Now he walked into an apartment on Vensaris, just a ways out from Bekenstein. Far enough away from the Citadel and major trade lanes to be safe, while still maintaining an active fleet presence over the world.
Theodore Pelham gave him the introduction. "Here you are. One apartment courtesy of the dog. Building has its own security force. Ex-marines, voice coded mechs, the works, and, if that wasn't enough, me and Kai are just a few doors down the hall."
"Thank you Theo. I'll start settling in before the next assignment."
With a wave, the big man walked out the door. Randall took a deep breath, and a long exhale.
"This is home now."