Chapter 8: One Archangel Wanted, Wings Optional
As soon as the shuttle docked, I led my squad into Omega and started shopping. Yep, there was this guy we had to recruit, one who'd gotten on the radar of every major merc group on Omega and might bite the bullet any hour now, and I was shopping. Do I know my priorities or what?
As we headed out, EDI contacted us with a status update. "Judging by the quarantine reports, the plague has been completely eradicated, Shepard."
"Good to hear," I responded.
"Dr. Solus's assistant has been helping out any patients with complications. Preliminary feedback seems very positive and complimentary."
"Excellent," Mordin beamed. "Knew he could do it."
We had just cleared the docking zone and were heading for the shops when a turian called us over.
"So, I heard a human went into the plague zone. Then I found out about a lot of dead vorcha down there. You know anything about that?"
"Dead vorcha?" I asked innocently. "Nope. Don't know anything about that."
"Uh huh," the turian said slowly. "Right."
I don't think he bought it.
"Well, my job just got a whole lot easier."
"Your job is killing vorcha?" I asked.
"I'm supposed to keep the vorcha in line," he responded. "Keep them out of Aria's sight. That's about it."
"You're Captain Gavorn," I realized. "I bumped into a couple vorcha before I went into the quarantine zone who thought I was working for you."
"Yeah, that's me," he nodded. "Not surprised they heard of me. I've been telling them that they'll only be left alone if they stay out of everyone's way, especially Aria's. They rarely listen, so then I have to lay down the hammer. Won't have to do that for a while, thanks to… whoever cleaned out the plague zone. But the way those vorcha breed, I'll have something to do soon enough."
"I'll just be going," I said.
"Keep up the good work."
Didn't take long to complete my browsing. Most of the stuff was too expensive, even with the creds I'd scrounged. I did manage to find a mod that would make power cell conversion more efficient, allowing me to fire off more shots from my heavy weapon. Which was still the grenade launcher. By this point, I could have brought a missile launcher or that new-fangled arc projector instead. Given the close-quarters urban environment of Omega, though, I figured the grenade launcher would be best suited for any combat.
Without any further distractions, I went to Afterlife. I was about to head up to see Aria when one of her guards, a turian, beckoned towards me.
"Aria has a job she needs doing," he said.
"And you are?"
"Name's Grizz. You're Shepard. Pleased to meet you. You up for some work?"
Straight to business, huh? All right.
"That depends on what Aria has in mind," I said, playing along for the time being.
"Aria's gotten word that some Blood Pack mercs plan to kill an old acquaintance of hers. A krogan named Patriarch. She'd like you to keep that from happening."
"What's the Blood Pack's problem with this 'Patriarch'?" I asked.
Grizz laughed. "You obviously haven't met Patriarch yet. If you had, you'd know—he can't keep his damned mouth shut. Some people don't appreciate his stories. Especially when he dips into nonfiction."
I frowned. "If he's that much of a problem, why would Aria want to protect him?"
"Patriarch was one of her deadliest enemies back in the old days. Now she keeps what's left of him around as a trophy. As long as he lives, he's a perfect example of what happens when you go up against Aria."
"Why come to me? Aria's usual muscle not up for the job," I taunted.
"Because Aria said so. What other reason do you need?"
"Oh come on," I burst out. "People like Aria don't do things without a damn good reason. I wanna hear it."
"Fine," Grizz sighed. "But I didn't tell you this. Got me?"
"Got what?"
"Exactly." Grizz looked around before spilling the beans: "If it gets out that Aria's protecting Patriarch... well, that can look like a weakness. And some people might want to exploit that. You're not on her payroll, so you helping Patriarch just seems like a random act of kindness."
Clever. She can just lean back and let some compulsive do-gooder like me protect her trophy, which would fall in line with my rep. But if anyone asks her, she can look all innocent—well, innocent for her—and claim she knew nothing. "I'll look into it," I finally agreed.
"Good," Grizz nodded. "Patriarch's downstairs, likely surrounded by his 'fans.' Get him into hiding until the mercs get bored and move on. Come back here when it's done, and you'll get your due."
It took a bit of searching, but I finally found this Patriarch. Like Grizz said, he was the one telling stories to his fans.
"Don't act like you know," he was saying. "Just plan for the funeral normally. During the service, someone will want to set up a meeting. He's in on it with whoever killed your family. You tear off a few of his fingers, you'll find out who did this to you.
"What next, you say? Say you want to hurt him and his family. Don't kill him first. If he has close family, they'll just want revenge. Kill the family first. Then he'll get angry and come at you stupid... and then you kill him."
That was when he noticed me. "Don't think I know you, human," he greeted me. "I'm the Patriarch. Aria's Patriarch. What do you want?"
"Well for starters, what do you know about Aria?" I started.
"A few centuries ago, Omega was my rock. When Aria arrived, she had nothing but the clothes on her back. I thought she was another dancer.
"Huh!" he laughed bitterly. "She killed half my men and convinced the rest that she could run this place better than I did. She came for me here in this bar. We tore this place apart. She crushed one of my hearts, shattered half the bones in my body... and left me alive."
"As an example," I said.
"Aria doesn't destroy what she can use," Patriarch confirmed. "She said I could have all my old comforts if I served as her advisor. I knew how things worked. I knew who to lean on, who to smack down, who to smile at. And everyone who respected me saw me beaten, broken. They knew that as strong as I'd been, she was stronger."
Smart. Most people would just kill their enemies as soon as possible. "Why do they call you 'Patriarch'?" I asked.
"It's like an asari matriarch, only male. It was Aria's little joke, after she took me down and let me live. A nice made-up title for her made-up advisor."
Okay, things were starting to get gloomy. I hate gloomy. People start crying when they get gloomy. "A krogan like you must know some great stories," I tried.
"I killed a lot of people, lived well, and was beaten by a small asari who keeps me around as an example," he snorted. "My time is done. Anyone I killed is long forgotten. The stories are Aria's, now."
"Rumour has it some people want you dead," I told him, moving to the main reason for my visit. "Know anything about that?"
Patriarch scratched his chin. "I can think of a few. I know things. Old secrets. Old grudges. A few floors you can dig up to find bodies underneath. Someone who wanted to weaken Aria might come after me.
"They'd do it to get to her, you see. Not for me." He paused before adding morosely "I don't matter enough anymore to have enemies of my own."
Wow. A krogan who'd given up the will to fight. Now I'd really seen everything. "I've been asked to move you to safety," I finally said.
"Of course," Patriarch said sarcastically. "Aria wouldn't want me hurt. It would make her look bad." He let a bitter grin spread over his face. "But perhaps Aria's reputation is no longer my concern. Perhaps I will stay and see who thinks me important enough to kill."
A kernel of an idea popped into my head. I blame it on the inner monkey in me that just delights in causing mischief and chaos. "You could do that," I shrugged. "But here's an idea: let me handle the assassins for you instead."
"And so your name grows while I remain an old man who lets others fight his battle," he scoffed.
"No," I disagreed. "You remain a powerful warlord with forces at his command. Not just Aria's trophy."
A look of dawning comprehension flickered to life in his eyes. "You could... you could be my krantt," he said slowly. (1) "Fighting for my honour. If you would do this for me, I would be grateful. I might even be a krogan again."
"Just wait right here, then," I smiled, "while your 'krantt' takes care of some business."
"Planning to shake up the status quo on Omega, Shepard?" Miranda asked as we left.
"Regardless of what Patriarch might have done in his day, he doesn't deserve to become someone's puppet," I replied. "Besides, now's a good time to emphasize that I'm notanother merc who'll jump at Aria's command. Especially since the Council and the Alliance already think my name is mud. I don't see any reason to give them any more ammo."
"Just as long as you don't rock the boat too much," she warned. "We have enough problems with the Collectors. We don't need to add Aria's wrath to our list of problems."
"Fair enough," I conceded.
"What are your orders, Commander?" Jacob asked.
"Miranda, take Kasumi and Jacob out the back entrance," I decided. "If you see any Blood Pack, walk by them casually and radio me when you're in the clear. The rest of us will meet them head on, and you can double back to get the jump on them from behind."
"And if no one's there, we can double round to the front entrance," Miranda said, seeing where I was going.
"Exactly," I nodded. "You guys head in, we'll head out. Hopefully we'll catch them."
We wound up carrying out Plan B. Two krogan were strolling with purpose when my team 'bumped into them.'
"Out of our way, human," one of them growled.
"You here for Patriarch," I asked. Miranda's team entered the corridor at that point, right on cue. She silently signalled that her team would tackle the krogan who hadn't talked yet, while we could handle the other one.
"What if we are," the first krogan snarled, as Miranda's team moved into position behind them. "You gonna do something about it?"
"Patriarch sent us," I declared loudly so everyone around us could hear, even over the blare of the music. "Said to do whatever it takes."
"You're Patriarch's krantt?" the krogan asked in disbelief. "I wasn't aware the old man had one!"
"You should have done your homework," I said, cracking my knuckles.
The krogan whipped up a hand-sized flamethrower and sent a narrow stream of flame in my direction. Or he tried to—idiot telegraphed his move. I was already moving, ducking down and snapping my leg to deflect his aim. While his flamethrower was busy scorching the ceiling, my squad whipped out their weapons and fired on the targets Miranda had designated. The second krogan didn't even have a chance to pull out his weapon before he and his partner dropped to the ground.
Now that that was done, the squad and I went to give Patriarch the good news. Funny thing was, he already knew. Guess good news travels fast, even on Omega.
"You killed them all!" Patriarch cried out, slapping his hands together in joy. "And everyone knows that the Patriarch is not to be crossed. Thanks to you, Aria may think of me as more than a trophy. A real advisor, maybe. Or even a threat."
He seemed to especially like that last part.
"Take care, Patriarch."
"For the first time, I think I like that name," he mused.
"Glad to hear it," I said.
I had turned halfway towards the door before Patriarch called me back. "By the way, be careful with Aria. She will approve of what you've done, I think, but not of you altering the balance of Omega. I think it reminds her too much of herself."
"I actually have to go see her about something," I said. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Patriarch wasn't the only one who'd found out about my little re-interpretation of her job. "Aria wants to speak with you, human," Grizz said when we saw me. "She heard you took on the Blood Pack assassins yourself."
So I went up to see Aria. She was sitting on her couch, her usual calm and expressionless look firmly in place.
"Word has it that Patriarch's krantt took out the men sent here to kill him," she said without preamble. "Funny—I didn't know he had a krantt."
"Guess you're working on old intel," I shrugged.
Aria wasn't fooled for a nanosecond, but she played along. "Hmm..." she said thoughtfully. "Well, no one would dare cross him with such a powerful krantt standing up for him."
With that, she tilted her head towards the couch. I took her cue and sat down. It was only then that I noticed the credit chit. Mainly because I'd plunked my ass on it. Aria's subtle way of paying me, I guess. "Sounds like you and Patriarch have a history," I said as I casually pocketing the chit.
"Our history is Omega's history," she replied, pretending she didn't see me. "Long, bloody and always ending in my favour. The details... are complicated."
"They always are," I said wryly.
Aria got to her feet and started pacing as she talked. "When I arrived, Omega was lawless. A land of... opportunity. I built alliances and destroyed the fools who wouldn't get in line. Which was most of them. But Patriarch, he was something different. A powerful friend."
"I'm surprise you were ever anything but rivals," I admitted.
"We were allies for a hundred years," Aria said. "I suppose he decided that was long enough. It wasn't a surprise when he turned on me—about... a century ago, give or take. He controlled the muscle. My people contributed more subtle action—espionage, politics, assassination. Fortunately for me, his men had become accustomed to certain... benefits of working with asari."
Heh. I'll just bet they did. "Sounds like you changed the rules. And the battlefield."
"Krogan nature made it easy for us to take advantage. Patriarch's men abandoned him in droves. In the end, we fought face-to-face on this very spot. Toughest fight of my life. But of course, I won."
"And then you gave him the name 'Patriarch'," I butted in before she could start patting herself on the back again. "Strange. Doesn't sound like something an asari would come up with."
Aria smiled coldly. "I found it humorous. He wanted power, and we pretended he had it with a word that doesn't exist for my people. I eventually found a certain respect for the title. And the man," she conceded.
"But you still kept him around as a trophy," I reminded her.
"I did," she admitted. "A trophy and an example. Whenever someone thought about taking me on, I pointed them to Patriarch. Dignity is one of the few commodities not available on Omega."
"Interesting," I said, "but let's move on."
"Do you need something else?" Aria asked.
"I'm trying to track down Archangel."
"You and half of Omega," she smirked. "You want him dead, too?"
"I'd heard about that," I confessed. "Why's everyone after him?"
"He thinks he's fighting on the side of good." Aria rolled her eyes. "There is no good side to Omega. Everything he does pisses someone off. It's catching up to him."
"Maybe that's the kind of guy I'm looking for," I grinned.
Aria raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, aren't you interesting? You're going to make some enemies teaming up with Archangel. Assuming you can get to him, of course. He's in a bit of trouble right now."
"What kind of trouble?"
"The local merc groups have joined forces to try and take him down," she told me. "They've got him cornered, but it sounds like they're having trouble finishing him off. They've started hiring anyone with a gun to help them."
"Sounds like that might be our ticket in," Jacob mused.
"They're using a private room for recruiting—just over there," she pointed. "I'm sure they'll sign you up."
"What can you tell me about Archangel?" I asked.
"Not as much as I'd like," she admitted. "He showed up here several months ago and started causing all sorts of problems. If you make your own laws—which everyone here does—he makes life difficult. He's reckless and idealistic. But he seems to know enough to stay clear of me."
"Which merc groups are after him, exactly? Blue Suns? Blood Pack?"
"Those groups as well as Eclipse," Aria nodded. "They're Omega's major players. Unless they're at war, you'll never see them together. But one thing they hate more than each other is Archangel."
I leaned forward. "What about you? Do you hate Archangel? Or the merc groups?"
"I don't have time for hate," she replied. "But I distrust them all equally. For now, I'm happy to just let them kill each other."
"I appreciate the help," I said, getting to my feet.
Aria smiled. "See if you still feel that way when the mercs realize you're here to help him."
"You planning on tipping them off?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
To her credit, Aria considered that question for a second before shaking his head. "No point. You'll be lucky to make it out alive, much less with Archangel in tow."
I'd be suspicious of her honesty, if I hadn't put two and two together. "But if I do make it out, you'll have seriously weakened three major players you 'distrust equally,'" I added. "Without lifting a finger."
She laughed. "You do understand me."
"Well, I'd better go," I said. "Sounds like I don't have much time to waste."
"You've got all the time in the world," Aria corrected me. "Archangel—not so much."
"I'm impressed," Miranda told me as we left her lounge. "Aria isn't normally that open with people. Especially strangers."
"Must be my natural charm," I joked.
"Possibly," she said. "Or she's just willing to exchange services rendered for information, and she's decided that you might be one of the few people in the Terminus Systems who has the skills and resources to take her down but will never go through with it."
Huh. Joking aside, Aria had been remarkably forthcoming. Maybe Aria had decided to make an ally—albeit one of convenience—out of me rather than an enemy. Or maybe she figured that the sooner she helped me out, the sooner I'd get out of her hair. Tentacles. Whatever.
It didn't take long to find the recruiting station. We must've passed it half a dozen times since I first arrived at Omega. I walked up to the man out front, a batarian in a Blue Suns hardsuit. "I hear you're recruiting," I told him.
He looked us over and grunted. "Why don't you step inside?" he asked, pointing at the door behind him.
The six of us entered the room. Another batarian Blue Sun was busy finishing off his preamble to another freelancer. "You'll get paid when the job's done, just like everyone else."
The freelancer strode out. "Who's next?" the recruiter asked, not looking up from his console at first. When he did, he gave us the once-over. "The six of you look like you could do some damage. Looking for a good fight?"
"You could say that," I said. I flashed him a cocky grin. Let him think I'm some well-armed idiot looking for action rather than a real soldier with an ounce of common sense.
The batarian started tapping at his console while talking to us. From the sounds of it, he'd given this spiel way too many times: "Standard fee is 500 credits each. You get paid when the job's done. If you die, your friends don't collect your share."
Translation: no offing your buds just to get a bigger paycheque.
"You'll need your own weapons and armour..." the recruiter paused and glanced up again. "Looks like you've got that covered," he amended. Then his eyes narrowed—all four of them. "And no, this does not make you a member of the Blue Suns, Eclipse or the Blood Pack. You are a freelancer. Period."
"Get that question way too often?" I asked sympathetically.
A frustrated grunt answered my question. "Any other questions?"
"Sure. Why are all the mercs working together to take down Archangel?" I already knew why, but I was wondering what he had to say on the matter.
"Haven't been on Omega long, huh?"
"Less than a standard week," I confessed.
"He does everything he can to screw with us. Shipments go missing, operations are compromised. Every month it gets worse. Tarak and the other bosses are tired of losing credits... and men."
"Tarak's one of the heavy hitters?" I prompted. "How many merc bosses are involved in this attack?"
"Yeah, Tarak runs the Blue Suns; Jaroth's leading the Eclipse and Garm's the head of the Blood Pack. All three bosses are overseeing the operation, but Tarak's in charge. Not that the others would ever say that. I'm surprised they're in on this at all, but I guess getting rid of Archangel is worth it."
"Where's the attack taking place?"
"Archangel's base of operations. He's been hiding right under our noses. I can't tell you exactly where you're going, but we'll get you there. Just head out of Afterlife and take a right to the transport depot. One of our boys will take you from there."
"What do we do once we're there? How do we get to Archangel?"
"The mercs will tell you when you get there," he replied. "Last I heard, they were putting the freelancers into scouting groups; they attack in waves to distract Archangel while we try to get past his defences."
"So we're just fodder for his bullets?" I snorted.
"If you don't like it, don't sign up," he shrugged. "But if you do your job right, it's easy credits. Besides, what are the odds he can kill all of you?"
"Seems like a lot of trouble for just one guy," I frowned.
"Now he's 'just one guy,'" he explained. "He used to have a whole team, but we've dealt with them," he explained. "Still, he's got the advantage—it's his base of operations and he knows we're coming. He's planned for an attack like this. We've lost a lot of men trying to get to him already."
"Sounds like it'll be tough trying to get to him," I commented.
"Like chasing a vorcha out of a sewer pipe," he agreed. "But that's why we're recruiting. If we just keep throwing fighters at him, we'll get him eventually."
I'd have to wait until I got the full plan from the mercs on the front line, but it sounded like they had a smart plan going, albeit a horribly cruel and wasteful one. Get a bunch of stupid guys signed up and send them in as cannon fodder to wear Archangel down. Since they weren't paying until after the job was over and payment couldn't be shared amongst party members, the mercs could really cut down on how much they'd have to pay out. Meanwhile, what was left of the merc groups would remain fresh and intact for a final push against Archangel.
"Sounds good," I said. "Let's get going."
"Out through Afterlife and right to the transport depot," the recruiter reminded me. Then he tapped his comm. "Send in the next one."
The next one was a freakin' kid. No protection other than a beige cap covering his head and a beige and dark brown vest over a white sleeveless shirt. He swaggered in like some wannabe with no clue what he was doing and asked "Hey, is this where I sign up?"
Okay, his voice was deep enough that he'd hit puberty at some point. He was still a freakin' kid, though. "You look a little young to be freelancing as a merc," I told him.
"I'm old enough," he protested, his voice cracking.
I wasn't the only one who had my doubts. My squad had a variety of looks ranging from concerned to mildly amused. The recruiter just frowned.
"I grew up on Omega. I know how to use a gun."
Oh, well in that case, why didn't you say so. I mean, that obviously makes it all better.
"So does Archangel," Jacob told him.
"Damn straight," Zaeed nodded. "Kid, you know just about enough to get yourself killed."
"I can handle myself," the kid insisted. He reached over and pulled out a gun from his belt—kid didn't even have a holster. He'd just stuck it through his belt. Surprised it hadn't fallen out yet and shot the twit in the foot. "Besides," he said "I just spent 50 credits on this pistol and I wanna use it!"
Before the idiot could say another word I grabbed his collar with one hand and shoved him against the wall. I gave him a stern look while my other hand grabbed his pistol. "Get your money back," I told him.
"Hey!" the kid whined. "What do you—"
The heft of the pistol told me it was definitely a cheap knock-off. Sure you could probably shoot someone with it, but it'd probably overheat or jam after a couple shots. I started slapping the barrel. Sure enough, it only took a couple whacks before something started rattling loose inside. "Trust me, kid," I said, shoving the pistol back at him. "You'll thank me later."
The kid looked at me, then to my companions, and finally at the recruiter. None of us looked like we were going to change our minds. Not even the recruiter. I turned away and left, leaving the wannabe looking like I'd just swiped his birthday present away from him and stepped on it.
Kids.
Sure enough, there was a Blue Suns trooper standing by at the transport depot. "Just got hired to deal with Archangel," I told him.
"I hope you're ready," he replied. "Archangel has been annihilating you freelancers."
"Well it'll take a bit longer to annihilate all six of us," I shrugged.
"I guess," he said dubiously. He looked at the speeders and then back at us. "These things can only take four at a time. Any of you know how to drive one?"
I nodded. "Miranda, Zaeed; with me. Everyone else with this guy."
The drive took about twenty minutes. As we touched down, another batarian Blue Suns came up to meet us. "It's about time they sent me someone who looks like they can actually fight," he said. "They tell you what you're up against?"
"We have a pretty good idea," I replied. "Though the recruiter was a little vague."
"We wouldn't get many hires if we told everyone the truth," the batarian said dryly.
Gee, I wonder why.
"Archangel's holed up in a building at the end of the boulevard over there," he continued, pointing off in the distance behind him. "He's got superior position and the only way in is over a very exposed bridge. It's a killing ground. But he's getting tired, making mistakes. We'll have him soon enough."
"The bridge is the only way to his hideout?" I pressed.
"Yeah, Archangel collapsed all the underground passageways and sealed the doors to the lower levels," the batarian replied. "We've got teams digging, but it's taking too long. If they can get the gunship flying again, that'll help. But I'm hoping the infiltration team will finish the job so we can all go home."
I thought I'd heard wrong for a second. "They were using a gunship to take out one guy?" (2)
"Yeah—and Archangel shot it down. He didn't destroy it, but he knew just where to hit it to disable it."
Damn.
"It wasn't even a fair fight. At least, not for us."
"You guys have a plan?"
"A small team is waiting to infiltrate his hideout, but we need to draw Archangel's fire so they can move in."
"And that's where we come in," I said flatly.
"Exactly," he nodded. "You'll be on a distraction team. Head straight over the bridge and keep Archangel busy so the infiltration team can sneak in behind him."
"That's goddamn suicide," Zaeed burst out.
"Pretty much," he admitted. "But you look like you can handle it. Head up to the boulevard and get to the third barricade. Talk to Sergeant Cathka. He'll tell you when to go in."
"Where's the infiltration team now?"
"On the far side of the bridge, near his hideout," he said. "But they can't get any closer without being seen."
"How'd they get that close without being seen?" I asked.
"More distractions," came the reply. "Tarak used a gunship to keep Archangel busy."
"Before Archangel disabled it," I realized.
"Yeah. We were able to sneak a few men into his hideout before that happened, but now they're stuck there. We need to keep Archangel focused on the bridge so he doesn't find them and wipe them out."
"Then I guess we'll go find Sergeant Cathka," I decided.
"Good idea," he nodded. "Just watch yourself on the boulevard. Archangel's killed dozens out there already."
"Well, at least we have a way in," Miranda sighed. "But getting out?"
"In's going to be easy; out's going to be a bitch," Zaeed summarized.
"Let's find him first," I said. "Then we'll figure out how to get back."
As we headed in, EDI contacted me over the comm. "Shepard. I've scanned the area, but I am unable to plot any paths to Archangel."
"Then I guess we're going with the mercs," I replied.
"Interception of comm chatter reveals the presence of a YMIR-class heavy mech and a gunship, both of which possess considerable firepower," it warned.
"We'll see what we can do about that." I quickly shut off the comm before anyone else could see me. Turns out my paranoia was, for once, unjustified. The only other guys around were a pair of Eclipse mercs, judging by their yellow uniforms, each with the letter "E" in front of a solar eclipse. They were too busy keeping their heads down. In the distance, we could hear gunfire rattling away.
We went through a door into a small room with human and salarian Eclipse mercs. One of the salarians was busy giving orders. "As the first wave goes in, the infiltration team will attempt to take Archangel by surprise," he was saying. "I don't expect much from the freelancers. When they fail, we're up next. The light mechs go first. If that's not enough, we'll send in the heavy. Be prepared."
First freelancers, then light mechs—probably LOKI. If that didn't work, the Eclipse mercs would go in along with the heavy mech—probably another damn YMIR. Got it.
I must have been waiting too long, because the salarian looked at me. "Do you need something?"
"I, uh, I was just wondering if you lead the Eclipse," I purposely stumbled.
"You figure that out by yourself?" he sneered.
"Uh..."
"Never mind," he interrupted me. Good—the more he thought I was some rube, the easier it would be to get the drop on him when I turned the tables. "I'm Jaroth. I run Omega's Eclipse. What do you need, freelancer?"
"I'm on one of the distraction teams, but it sounds like the infiltration team is the main focus of the attack."
"Tarak's plan, not mine. He doesn't want to lose any more men, so he's throwing you freelancers at the problem. Archangel's not going anywhere, so I suppose there's no harm in trying. Who knows—maybe you'll get lucky."
"So you're just going to sit here while we get ourselves killed?" I snorted.
"Precisely," Jaroth replied bluntly. "You're paid to be a distraction. Nothing more. Whether you survive or not is up to you."
"Why are Eclipse on Omega in the first place?" I asked curiously. "What do you guys do here?"
He sighed. "Since you care so much—Eclipse controls almost 20 percent of Omega. Our transports and mechs keep the eezo moving."
"Sounds very organized."
"Eclipse runs like a well-oiled machine. (3) But Omega is anything but organized. It's a constant battle for control. Then Archangel comes along and complicates things even more."
"Any idea why Archangel gives you guys so much trouble?"
"Ask him. I'm just here to make as much money as I can. We didn't come to Omega to be constrained by laws and regulations. He'll regret ever coming to Omega. I promise you."
Jaroth seemed increasingly agitated and angry as he talked. Almost like it was personal. I said as much.
"He raided one of my transports last month. Killed two of my best operatives," he snapped. "One of them was my brother. So yes, it's pretty damn personal."
I asked about Archangel, but Jaroth didn't know much. Seems my potential recruit did such a good job of hiding his identity, even his team of fellow vigilantes didn't know who he was. Emphasis on the past tense—seems they were all dead now. Besides that, all Jaroth could say was that Archangel was smart, resourceful and deadly.
The head honcho of Eclipse soon got bored and told me to go away. Well, he used ruder words, but I got the gist of it. Bad move for him, though—he was sloppy enough to leave a datapad lying around and too fixated on revenge to notice me taking it with me.
"What does it say?" Miranda asked once we got into a hallway.
"Give me a sec," I said absently. I gave it a quick scan. Then I grinned.
"I'm guessing there's some juicy info there," Kasumi smiled.
"Sounds like the merc groups are exploring the benefits of this alliance," I replied. "First, they want to take out Archangel. After that, they'll try their collective luck with their next target."
"Which is?" Mordin prompted.
"Aria."
"Really?" Miranda said. "Well, I think Aria would be quite... grateful if you were to pass that information along."
"My thoughts exactly," I nodded. "One thing at a time, though." I opened a door on my left...
...and almost jumped back at the sight of the YMIR mech looming three metres away.
I wasn't the only one who was freaked out. Kasumi let out a yelp; Miranda started focusing her biotics and everyone else raised their weapons. We waited for one very tense minute. Then another to verify our observations. Then we breathed a sigh of relief. The heavy mech, and the light mechs lining each wall, were powered down.
Now that we weren't going to be blown to bits any time soon, I quickly scrounged the room. Nothing more than a small supply of refined eezo and some credits. Then I moved over to the YMIR mech, which was hooked up to a console. I booted it up, hacked through the firewalls and started looking around. At first, I was looking for some way to blow it up. Then I stumbled across something else entirely.
"Miranda," I asked casually. "Is that what I think it is?"
She took one look and flashed a smile my way. A conspiratorial smile, mind you, not a 'come-hither' smile. "Definitely," she confirmed. "See if you can—"
"Already on it," I said, my fingers flying over the terminal's keyboard. Within a minute or two, I had hacked into the mech's IFF protocols and set up a bypass around them.
"That should slow them down," I said with satisfaction.
"Perfect," Miranda approved. "Without those protocols running, it'll be hostile if they activate it."
The next group we ran into was the Blood Pack. It's probably safe to say that all of us ignored the snarling vorcha roaming around and immediately focused on the krogan, who was large even by the standards of his people. He was wearing a hardsuit the colour of dried blood, with white skulls crudely painted on his shoulder pauldrons.
"You're in the wrong place, freelancer," he rumbled.
"You the Blood Pack leader?" I asked.
"Name's Garm. That's all you need to know. That, and I'm stuck here waiting 'till you freelancers are done playing war."
"Mind if I ask a few questions?"
"Ask them and go."
Since he offered so nicely... "Why are the Blood Pack on Omega?"
"We're the muscle on this bloody station," he replied. "You need protection or want someone removed, talk to us. The Blood Pack are everywhere on Omega. Everybody loves us, and everybody hates us."
"I'm guessing Archangel mostly just hates you," I said dryly.
"He's just an uptight asshole. I don't really care what he thinks," Garm sniffed. "But he's costing me men and making me work for my money. I'll be the one to take him out today—you watch. I'm the only one who's fought him one-on-one."
"Then you must know something about Archangel."
Sure enough, Garm had some intel. "He's a turian, which makes him slightly worse to look at than you."
Please. Stop it. I'm blushing.
"And he's brave... 'till he realizes you're more than he bargained for. He tried to take me down once. Waited 'till I was alone. Longest damn fight of my life, but I held him off 'till my men showed up. He wasn't so tough after that. We chased him over half of Omega. Almost had him, but the slippery bastard snuck away before we could pin him down."
"When do the Blood Pack attack?"
"Damn Tarak wants us to wait. I hate waiting. But he says the Suns have a plan, and they don't want us getting in the way. Hah! We're supposed to wait until the Eclipse send their mechs... we'll see."
"I should get going," I said after a while.
"'Bout time."
We were getting close to the front lines and this Sergeant Cathka we were supposed to report to. I was sure of it. Dunno why. Maybe it was because the gunfire was getting louder. Or maybe it had something to do with the vorcha who dropped at our feet, a large hole bored in its head.
Ducking down, we searched around for loot. I grabbed some medi-gel from a nearby med-station, hacked through a datapad's encryption and 'liberated' 6000 credits, then bypassed a lock to enter a side room. One with a couple power cells, some schematics for a submachine gun upgrade and another datapad with links to another account just begging to be emptied—seriously, people should stop leaving datapads with personal financial details lying around for any ol' shmuck to hack. Then again, I shouldn't complain. It's nice to have money that doesn't come from TIMmy.
Moving along, I grabbed some more medi-gel down another hallway before entering a large room filled with batarians, turians and humans—all in Blue Suns uniforms. One of the batarians was poring over a computer console, occasionally stopping to bark orders at his fellow subordinates.
After a minute, he slammed the console and punched some schmuck's lights out. "I don't want excuses!" he roared. "Tell Cathka to get that gunship working, or he'll be next over that bridge! And somebody get me those damned blueprints. Now!"
The batarian, who I guessed was the Blue Suns leader Tarak, glanced at me impatiently. "Get this freelancer out of here!" he snarled. "I don't have time for this shit!"
"I just have a few questions about the operation," I tried.
Wrong move. "Jentha—get this scum out of here!" he yelled.
To my surprise, Zaeed stepped in. "Tarak," he called out. "What's eating your ass?"
Tarak jerked his head up in surprise. "Zaeed?"
I glanced at Zaeed before turning my attention to Tarak. "I take it you two are acquainted?"
"We've crossed paths a few times," he admitted. "Since when do you work for so little, Zaeed?"
"Since when are you a goddamned madman," Zaeed returned.
"It's Archangel," Tarak snarled. "This guy's gonna kill me. Almost did, already." For the first time, I noticed a note of panic in his voice.
Zaeed picked up on it, too. "That bad, huh?" he said.
"Worse. Look Zaeed, I gotta deal with this shit. Jentha—talk to these guys. Answer whatever questions they have. Good to see you, Zaeed," he added before turning back to his console. "Who knows, maybe you'll solve my problem for me."
"Anything's possible," Zaeed shrugged.
Jentha moved over to talk with us. Tanned redhead. Kinda cute.
"Good thing you know him," she said to Zaeed. "Tarak hates having to hire freelancers—he doesn't trust anyone outside of the Blue Suns."
"You don't say," Zaeed snorted.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, turning to me.
"How 'bout starting with what the Blue Suns do on Omega?" I returned.
"We supply goods to a lot of the groups and factions here," she replied.
"And by 'goods,' you mean..." I prompted.
"Weapons. Mechs. Machinery. You name it, we can get it. We also broker deals between factions. You wouldn't know it to look at him now, but Tarak can be quite a negotiator."
"Yeah, I'm not seeing much of the negotiator right now," I admitted. "How did Archangel get him and the Blue Suns so mad at him?"
"He harasses and hounds us constantly," she said in frustration. "We worry that every job is a trap now. Does he know where this meeting is? Will this shipment suddenly disappear? How many men will we lose this time? Tarak's had enough. I don't blame him."
"What else do you know about Archangel?"
"He's a turian vigilante who thinks killing mercs is a fun way to pass the time."
I like him already.
"Other than that, he's a mystery. He shows up, usually at the worst possible time, and screws with our work. He can't die soon enough, if you ask me."
She was positively seething when she spat out that last sentence. "Why do you hate him so much?" I asked.
"He went after Tarak—at his home. Almost got him. Tarak's been on edge ever since, and he's making my life a living hell. Second guesses every damn thing I do."
Okay, back in the simple days when I was just an XO cursed with the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz rep, I had my share of CO's. Most of them were pretty decent—especially the last one, the one who later entered politics—but I'd heard horror stories from other XO's who weren't as fortunate. (4) Jentha's relationship with Tarak clearly fell in the latter territory. "Damn," I said.
She nodded in agreement. "Getting the other merc bands to help us shows you just how desperate he is. They're as bad as Archangel."
Since Jentha was being so cooperative, I figured I'd ask what the plan was. If the Blue Suns were unofficially leading this impromptu alliance, they'd have the most comprehensive idea of the master plan. "So from what I hear, we're going in to soften things up while the infiltration team makes their move. What's Tarak gonna do if the infiltration team fails?"
"To start, he'll shoot any freelancers that are still alive," she started.
Great.
"After that, he'll let Eclipse and the Blood Pack take their shots." A thinly veiled tone of frustration coloured her next words: "I suggested we work together, but he doesn't trust the other groups."
"What if Archangel survives all the other attacks? Then you Suns are on your own," I pointed out.
"That's why Tarak wants that gunship fixed so badly. But it won't come to that. Archangel's good, but he can't hold out that long. He's already been in there over a day."
Sounds like we came at the right time.
"No doubt." I stood up. "Guess time's a-wasting. I'd better get going."
"Good idea," Jentha nodded. "Make sure you check in with Cathka."
As I left, I heard Tarak bark out "Tell Jaroth he'd better have his mechs ready to go!"
There wasn't a lot more to see, so we made our way over to Cathka. We might not have known who he was, but it was easy to figure out where to find him—we just had to look for the gunship. I made a mental note to see if there was anything I could do to disable it—I really didn't want to face one of those things on foot. Three or four humans were lounging around nearby. Freelancers, judging by their mismatching hardsuits.
"Where's Cathka?" I asked.
One of them pointed over his shoulder at some guy behind him, who was busy applying a welder, or some other instrument that generated a ton of sparks, to something inside one of the gunship's panels. Not wanting to startle someone wielding such a high-voltage instrument, I walked towards him, ducking under of the gunship's engines, and waited. After a minute, Cathka stood up and put down the welder that was causing all the sparks.
"Sergeant Cathka," he introduced himself, depolarizing the visor. Now that I could see through it, I saw he was another batarian. Blue Suns really like hiring them, I guessed.
"Ah... you must be the group Salkie mentioned. You're just in time."
"Salkie?"
"You met him when you were dropped off. He radioed to say you were coming."
Ah. That guy.
"You six kinda stand out from most of the other freelancers," he noted slowly.
Uh oh. He'd picked up on something. Time to throw him a bone so he didn't get too suspicious.
"I'm not surprised," I said with a laugh. "Most of these pussies don't look like they know how to hold their own weapons, much less survive a gunfight. Hell, when I was at the recruiting station, some kid sauntered in after me. No experience other than 'growing up on Omega.' No weapons other than a pistol that set him back 50 credits."
"Oh boy," Cathka muttered, shaking his head. "Tell me they didn't send him over with you guys."
"Not unless he snuck back in and tried his luck again with another recruiter," I replied.
"Between you and me, this freelancer thing has been almost as much of a disaster as our first attempts to kill Archangel," Cathka confided. "It's a relief to see an independent that looks like he knows what he's doing. Anyways, the infiltration team is about to give us the signal. Archangel won't know what hit him."
He grabbed a cigarette from his pouch. As he lit it, he asked "Got any questions? This may be your last chance."
"I want to make sure I understand the plan," I said. "Way I hear it, we jump the wall and head for Archangel's building."
"And try not to get killed too fast," he amended. "You're only a distraction as long as you're alive."
"Thanks," I told him. "I think."
"Look, you don't have to make it all the way across," he said softly. "Just keep Archangel watching that bridge. The infiltration team will do the rest."
"How will the infiltration team get to Archangel, anyways?"
"They've got two answers," Cathka replied. "They trap him in close quarters and finish the bastard off face-to-face." He paused to take a puff from his cigarette. "If that doesn't work, they have explosives. They'll just need time to set up."
"And the bridge is the only way in," I asked.
"Until the gunship's working again or the blasters finish with the tunnels," he nodded. "Look, we've got a plan. We don't need you trying to come up with any great ideas."
"Just wanna finish the job and get my pay," I lied.
"Good," he said after another puff. "Just do your damn job, collect your credits and go home. Or get drunk. Or high. Whatever."
Testy, testy. Guess Tarak was riding his ass too. I glanced up at the gunship in front of me. "Are you going to give us cover with the gunship?"
Cathka laughed. "Tarak is the only one who flies her. Besides, she's not quite ready. That bastard Archangel gave her a beating last time she was out there. A few more tweaks, though, and she'll be good as new."
I waved some of the smoke away from my face. "So are you joining us on the assault after you fix her?"
That provoked another laugh from Cathka. "Ha! Tarak doesn't pay me to fight. I just plan the attacks and fix the damn gunship. You freelancers get the 'privilege' of—"
Abruptly, the panel behind him switched from a schematic of the gunship to a comm menu. A disembodied voice whispered "Target is in sight. We're a go."
"Check," Cathka replied before raising his voice. "Bravo team—go, go, go!"
Outside, we could see various freelancers do a final check on their weapons and head off. Cathka watched with some satisfaction. "Archangel's got quite a surprise waiting for him. But that means no more waiting for me."
He polarized his visor again and walked back to the gunship. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the welder that Cathka had lay down earlier, still sending off a spark or two.
"Gotta get her back to a hundred percent before Tarak decides he needs her again," Cathka was saying as I made my move.
"You're working too hard," I said, walking up beside him.
Cathka had enough time to look at me blankly before I stuck the welder in his back. He cried out in shock, his body gyrating madly and his arms flailing as the welder sent out a trail of sparks from his back and who knows how much voltage coursing through his body. I waited until he collapsed to the ground, then picked up the welder and chucked it into the gunship's innards.
Leaving the smell of burning plastic and electronics behind, I joined the others outside. They had their weapons readied but hadn't made a move yet, letting the other freelancers head out in twos and threes. Archangel was living up to his reputation, sniping down thug after thug with impressive accuracy. One freelancer tried his luck with a grenade launcher, but missed. Unfortunately for him, Archangel's return shot was much more accurate. Still, there were about nine guys left, most of whom had already made it across the bridge.
"Archangel doesn't have much time left," Miranda said.
"We'd better get moving if we're going to help him," Mordin agreed.
"Well what the hell are we waiting for?" Zaeed grinned.
"Come on," I said. I cracked my knuckles and let a grin of my own spread over my face. "We'll give these guys a surprise of our own."
To start things off, there were four guys clustered together up ahead. Miranda seized the initiative to send an EMP from her omni-tool. Since they were so close together, the pulse overloaded all of their shields. Belatedly, they realized that some of the cannon fodder had other ideas.
"They're with Archangel," one of them cried out. It was the last thing he said before he was mowed down by a hail of gunfire.
Quickly consulting my HUD, I determined the remaining freelancers had already made it inside Archangel's hideout, so we double-timed it across the bridge. Before we entered the building, I split the squad up again so we'd have someone entering through both doors. Hopefully we could get the drop on them.
As I moved in, I saw one freelancer in the middle of what looked like an open-concept room, firing madly at Archangel. Not sure why—from what I'd gleaned of the layout and Archangel's position, there was no way he could get a clean shot. Maybe he was hoping he'd get lucky and take the vigilante down without exposing himself to fire.
Speaking of which, I quickly cloaked while the idiot was burning through his thermal clip, switched to my sniper rifle and took a shot. Not the best shot I'd ever taken, as I wound up hitting his chest instead of his head in my haste. At such close range, though, it was sufficient to drop him.
Unfortunately, his friend was hiding around the corner. He extrapolated where my shot came from and whipped out from behind the wall. With my cloak disengaged, and a sniper rifle that wasn't really that useful at such close range, I was basically a sitting duck.
"Zaeed, concussive round now!" Miranda ordered.
Zaeed immediately complied. Miranda followed up with an EMP from her omni-tool. Their attacks weren't fatal, but they were enough to drain his shields and knock him on my ass, buying me enough time to pull out my submachine gun and finish the job.
Meanwhile, Jacob's team had been taking down their fair share of freelancers. (5) By my count and my hardsuit's sensors, we only had two guys left.
Grabbing my sniper rifle again, I darted up the stairs, activating my cloak when I was halfway up. I crouched by the stairs, where the last two freelancers were busy using some doodad to cut their way through the locked door at the end of the corridor, aimed and fired.
To my dismay, my shot wasn't enough to penetrate both the shields and the hardsuit of my target. I ducked back behind the staircase before they could return fire, making a mental note to do some serious researching and upgrading at the next available opportunity. That opportunity being some time when I was back on the Normandy and not taking fire.
By that point, the rest of the squad had caught up to me. On the count of three, we charged out and unleashed hell. For the hell of it, I finished off one of the freelancers with a sniper round to the head.
My much-maligned sniper rifle felt better, I'm sure.
As soon as we determined the room was clear, I started scrounging. To my amusement, the others were quick to follow. Oh they restricted themselves to picking up spare thermal clips, but everyone's gotta start somewhere, right? (6) I supplemented my thermal clip collection with some medi-gel packs and an omni-tool upgrade that I found on a datapad.
Eventually we made our way back up to the second level and went through the door that the freelancers were about to enter. Nice place—lots of comfortable chairs, some bookshelves, all the comforts of home.
There was only one guy there, though—a turian in a blue and black hardsuit. He was perched by the balcony, bent over a sniper rifle, though he jerked up when we came in.
"Archangel?" I called out.
He motioned for us to wait with a talon, then gripped his sniper rifle. There was a pause, followed by a soft whistle from the sniper rifle, which concluded with a thump as some unseen schmuck hit the pavement.
That business done, he got up and slowly walked over to a pile of crates. He sat down stiffly, took off his helmet...
No. Freaking. Way.
He sat down on the top crate, propping the sniper rifle between his legs.
"Shepard," Garrus Vakarian greeted me. "I thought you were dead."
(1): A krogan term for a warrior's most trusted ally and comrade, one willing to kill in his or her name and honour. They are a proof of power and authority, as only the strongest krogan would have warriors loyal enough to act in their name, but are regarded as a proxy, representative or bodyguard rather than a mere servant.
(2): A flying vehicle driven by vectored-thrust engines and an element zero core, gunships are staples amongst mercenary groups and gangs for their assault transport and heavy support capabilities. The most popular model—the A-61 Mantis—boasts a modular design that allows it to be customized for low-altitude, fighter, high-altitude bomber or single-stage-to-orbit operations. They generally are equipped with mass accelerator machine guns and rocket launchers.
(3): Actually, most official and unofficial analyses identified the Blue Suns as the most organized and disciplined mercenary group. However, Eclipse employs more cutting-edge weaponry and technology, as well as frequent use of biotics.
(4): Shepard fails to note that it was his recommendation that catapulted his last CO into the seedy galaxy of politics.
(5): Shepard makes a determined point to distinguish between 'mercs' and 'freelancers.' I believe he does so to illustrate the difference between hardened veterans with experience as a gun-for-hire and inexperienced first-timers naive enough to think they could make a quick buck.
(6): Oh dear.