Chapter 1

Daylight streamed into my room through the open gaps in the ceiling. I'd patched up the hole in the roof a few days ago, using what materials I was able to scrounge up, but obviously the winds had blown them away again. Or someone had removed my temporary fix as a joke, just like last time. You can't leave anything lying around here for long. Whatever the case, I've got to find something to fix the roof properly before the next bout of acid rain comes along (it really bites this close to the processing centers). As the unwelcome glare disturbed my sleep, I woke up, cursing the early hour and thinking of it as just one more reminder of the direction my life has taken.

A quick glance around my 'room' would tell you everything you needed to know about that. It's bare, no decoration on the walls, save for the mold. Nothing that would leave any clue as to the identity of its inhabitant (which is entirely intentional). There's a single small cot in the corner where I sleep, and a few rucksacks that contain all the rest of my belongings. The walls are sheets of exposed metal, plated with a thin brown-orange lining where the rust has started to set in. I sat up and groaned as I took in the miserable surroundings. It's times like this that I start to wonder if I should have stayed on Omega. Oh dear god, is that a depressing statement.

I did live there for a while, as I had planned to, while I was figuring out my next move. I stayed up on one of the highest levels where they're still mining deeper and deeper into the asteroid that Omega was originally built on. The station is shaped somewhat like a jellyfish. At the top approximately half of the original asteroid still remains, like a dome that caps the main station. The rest trails down from the underside of the rock, with vast metal structures reaching down like tentacles.

As I said, I stayed on the upper levels, where the tunnels run deep into the asteroid itself. It's one of the poorest regions of the station. Essentially just a mining community that exists to extract eezo and expand Omega's living space. As soon as an area has been properly excavated and built up, the miners have to move on again, deeper into the asteroid in search of new deposits. Life is always tough up there, accidents are common and everyone is expected to pull their weight or leave.

I managed to get a bed to sleep in most nights, by offering my skills as a mechanic. Not that I'm by any means an expert in that field, but I had enough knowledge and experience to help sort out most of the day to day issues they faced in keeping the drills running. It was hot, hard, difficult work. Often the manual labor pushed even my enhancements to their limit, so I can't imagine how the other humans coped. Not that many of them were there by choice.

The one good thing about that area of the station is that nobody important ever goes up there. As far as the gang leaders, and more importantly Aria (the station's ruler) are concerned, everything that happens up there is beneath their notice. I suppose that it's likely that Aria did have a few agents planted amongst the miners and grease monkeys, but if she ever found out I was hiding up there she never chose to do anything about it. The Queen of Omega knows all too well that the station is commonly used as a place to hide from your enemies. She enjoys the reputation, and so as long as we don't bring trouble into her backyard, she seems content enough to leave us be.

I was able to spend about two months there, hiding out before I felt the need to leave. I worked a ten hour shift each day, dragged myself home each night, and collapsed into bed. Every so often I'd get access to a terminal so I could see what was going on in the rest of the galaxy. Mostly I was interested in tracking Cerberus to see if they were making any progress in their hunt for me or my sister, but I was also waiting for any sign of the arrival of the Reapers.

I don't know what I'm going to do when that happens. Hopefully, when that day comes, Cerberus will be forced to give up its search for us, to face a far more dangerous enemy. That would give me the opportunity to try and do something. I don't know what that would be right now, but anything has to be better than hiding in slums, knowing that any attempt to come out into the open and help would only get me killed.

In the end, I was forced to leave Omega when I started to hear rumors up in the mines that Aria was working with Cerberus. I wasn't told much, but I wasn't interested in waiting to hear more. I managed to steal a ship the next day (following a brief firefight at the docking bay) and left. I hid myself away as best I could, but even isolated as I was, it wasn't long before I heard that Cerberus had somehow managed to drive out Aria and take the station.

Not long afterwards I found myself listening to General Oleg Petrovsky's victory speech, as it was broadcasted right across the Terminus Systems. It was a very bold and simple statement, and the message was this: Aria, the wildest, craziest, most powerful ruler the Terminus had ever known was beaten. Now the rest of us were at the mercy of Cerberus. Their fleets would be expecting to travel through the region with impunity, and anyone that got in their way would be met with deadly force. In other words, I had to start running again.

Since then I've been fleeing from system to system trying to stay one step ahead of the Illusive Man's assassins. I've had some very close calls over the past few months, but after my escape on Illium, I don't think they'll be able to track me here. Even if they do search this planet they'll have a hell of a challenge trying to locate me amongst a population of almost four billion. And if they do? Well, I do have one or two contingencies in place, just in case.

Luckily, Korlus isn't really the sort of place most of them would ever go to in the first place. The original colony here was founded about 400 years ago, intended to be the basis for a major shipyard that would repair damaged vessels in the region. The frequent feuds between local warlords were expected to ensure that there would be a plentiful supply of new customers.

Unfortunately for the colonists that plan apparently backfired massively. The demand for repaired ships was so huge it far outstripped the capacity of the new spaceport. Not to mention that warlords would often find out that the rival they had just lost to was also having his ships repaired at the same time. Fights broke out in the spaceport so that some newly rebuilt ships were sent back again as wrecks just hours after being repaired. Before long the planet was becoming overwhelmed by derelict ships that were beyond repair, and even more were being towed into the system and dumped.

Switching from ship repair and maintenance to recycling managed to just about save the economy (and slightly reduce the level of waste cluttering Korlus' surface), but the damage had already been done. The warlords and gangs had long since settled into the region, and didn't waste much time in muscling in on the waste business. As the businesses grew, more types of waste were shipped to the planet's facilities in greater volume, often regardless of whether or not they were equipped to handle it. After that, it wasn't long before the landfills started expanding again.

The processing of millions of tons of waste led to a significant deterioration of the planet's environment (which hadn't been all that great even to begin with). Greenhouse gases, both natural and manufactured, had turned the place into a sweatbox and well...

'All things considered not the place you'd want to end up in,' I thought as I was interrupted by a loud crashing sound to let me know that someone was at the door.

I opened the security door that leads out of my room (it was the only sophisticated piece of tech in there but absolutely essential given the clientele here). Outside an eight-foot tall 'baby' Krogan was tapping his foot impatiently, causing the floor to shake.

"Hello John," I greeted him with a smile. He's one of the few good things about this dump.

"Jack, you promised to take me fishing today," he complained.

"I'm sorry," I said, genuinely meaning it. "I didn't get to bed until late last night. Kroll wanted to spend half the evening talking about that stupid overseer again. I don't know why he bothers inviting me to those meetings. Whenever it's my turn to speak he just spends the entire time staring at my chest. I don't suppose you could accidentally push him off the roof for me?"

He shook his head, frowning seriously at my suggestion.

"I don't think Vorlak would like that," he replied with depressing reverence.

I sighed. If there is one single most depressing trait common to all sentient species, it's the desire to look up to someone and be told what to do. Besides, Vorlak is a nightmare. He hadn't been here the first time I had come here. That had been with Shepard and the gang, back when the Blue Suns still ran this facility under a merc captain named Jedore.

We weren't really interested in Jedore at the time, only her business partner, an old Krogan warlord named Okeer. We knew he had some intel on the Collectors and were hoping to convince him to turn against them and join our team. It was only once we arrived that we learned that he was creating Krogan clones at that facility.

The Blue Suns funded his work because they were hoping for a new weapon for their army. A vanguard of Krogan warriors that could endure serious punishment and still go on to devastate the enemy's front lines. But helping the Suns was never really Okeer's main interest. He wanted to create a "perfect" Krogan, a genome distilled from all the legendary bloodlines of the past. A single specimen, perfect in every physical aspect with all secondary and even tertiary organs in place where appropriate.

It may seem strange to express surprise that all organs were formed but to Krogan it's no different than it would be for a human not to grow wisdom teeth. Except that for Krogan there are considerably more possible combinations which makes getting a full set next to impossible. But having all the redundancies in place makes a Krogan warrior almost impossible to take down permanently. No matter how hard you hit them they'll just fall back on more backup organs and keep on coming. It even works in a limited way for the brain but what's left by that point is what the Krogan call a "blood rage", a mindless killing machine on a rampage.

Okeer's work was intended to radically alter Krogan tactics in future wars. Instead of overwhelming the enemy with a vast hoard (which thanks to the Genophage the Krogan were no longer capable of sustaining), they would instead rely on a smaller army of elite warriors. He created hundreds in his lab, but rejected all but one of them as imperfect, casting them aside for Jedore to do as she pleased. When she couldn't control them, she started using them as live target practice for her men. Only a small handful, including John, managed to survive, but Okeer didn't care. His sole focus was on creating the perfect soldier to serve as his legacy. My father would have liked him.

Okeer and Jedore died not long after we arrived along with most of the Suns' mercenaries (I repeat I was with Shepard) and we took Okeer's progeny with us as a new team member. We never really gave much thought to the possibility that other Krogan had survived our clash with Jedore's forces. With no one to lead them or give them direction, they remained at the facility, eking out a meager living off the wasteland they had been born into.

Over time others moved in, mostly Vorcha at first but later other races. All were drifters, forced onto the edge of society The sort of people who truly didn't have anywhere else to go. People like me, in other words. We used to joke that this was the last way station for the desperate. If you managed to get yourself kicked out of here you'd have nowhere left to go except for the toxic wastelands of Korlus.

"From what I hear, things were actually better here before he arrived. It was probably one of the few places in the galaxy where there wasn't someone somewhere lording over you."

"Vorlak brought strength. He earned the right to lead us."

It always comes down to "strength" I thought to myself. Left to their own devices the Krogan were capable of a kind of happy innocence you rarely see in other species. Mostly up until they hit their second century they act like little schoolboys, always eager, running around, and getting into hijinks. Unless they hear the call of battle, in which case they can get very violent very quickly. After that, well they'll always be boisterous, but they'll never be quite the same again.

Vorlak's arrival (from what little I'd heard about it) was a case in point really. Before he arrived the Krogan used to hold friendly wrestling matches from time to time, practicing challenging each other over imaginary females, but it took a far darker path once the Elcor got involved. Normally Elcor aren't normally known for fighting, having evolved as a grazing herd animal. They tend to be slow-moving, careful, and reserved, not traits I would ever use to describe Vorlak. That being said they are also, bloody huge. Not that much taller than a Krogan really (though Krogan are seven to eight feet in height) but as quadrupeds, there is a vast difference in overall mass. If an Elcor ever gets really annoyed at you, they can lash out with a front leg that's the same size as your entire body.

From what I heard, his fights with the Krogan were brutal. Sometimes he'd take on two or three of them at the same time, just to prove how much stronger he was compared to them. According to the stories, if any of them ever did manage to show him up in the ring in any way, it wouldn't be long until they had a little accident, a fatal accident. Once he had the Krogan subdued, the rest was easy for him. The Vorcha came over to his side almost immediately afterwards, and the rest were left with a simple choice, leave, accept his rule, or die.

Since then, anyone who wants to get into the camp has to pay Vorlak's price and keep paying if they want to remain here. You might well be asking yourself at this point why on earth I was willing to come here at all. The first reason was purely for security, as bad as it was here, as expensive as it was proving to stay, it was better than anything Cerberus had in mind for me.

Better yet, isolated as we were, in a camp filled with aliens, the one thing I didn't have to worry about was Cerberus informants. Cerberus's notorious racism worked against them in this scenario. Any agent they sent here would have been lynched. And if Vorlak ended up causing me trouble? Well, I had certainly faced worse.

The other reason was that I felt a strong sympathy for the Krogan here. Just like me, they had been victims of a madman that wanted to use cloning to create a "legacy" for himself. And when we arrived, we'd just ploughed through and abandoned them afterwards. Killing Jedore had certainly improved their lives considerably, but I still felt guilty that we hadn't given them another thought afterwards.

The one thing that did weigh heavily on me is that while I was here helping these Krogan, the Reapers were still closing in on the galaxy. How could I justify hiding when there was so much at stake?

'Just a little longer' I told myself. At the first sign of Reaper activity, I would kill Vorlak, take his men, his resources, his money (whatever he had), hire as many mercs as I could, and go and find Shepard. As plans go it was slightly lacking in detail, but the Reapers feel like such a distant far-off concern while I'm trapped on these dusty plains. The plan is good enough to bring me some comfort, but the cold hard reality is that I couldn't really do anything about the Reapers. I can't even leave this planet without putting a target on my back.

Shaking off all these concerns I decided to adopt a different approach.

"Maybe we should just forget about Vorlak for the day and focus on our fishing trip," I suggested.

As expected John (as I'd named him) liked this idea very much, so without further ado, we headed for the main gate which today was being guarded by the Colonel.

The 'Colonel' is a middle-aged Turian that showed up here not long before I did. I'm not quite sure what his real name is, but to everyone here, he's just called the Colonel. Still wears the same military uniform he arrived with, though it's hard to see why. It's stained with scorch marks and the armor is so badly cracked in some places that it doesn't offer any protection at all.

As Turians go he seems like a pretty decent guy, if still a bit of a stick in the mud about some things. Won't talk about his background in the military for some reason, gets irritable if you ask. I decided early on that it was something best left alone. Either it's a secret he's protecting, or he went through something bad enough that he can't discuss it. In either case, trying to uncover it wasn't worth the risk. In places like these, you keep your secrets to yourself and don't waste time trying to make friends.

"Hi Colonel," I said as we approached.

"Going somewhere Jack?" he asked, twisting his mandibles into a frown. Despite the thick metallic carapace that covers their faces and much of their bodies, Turian expressions are surprisingly similar to human ones and easy to interpret.

"I was going to take John out fishing, why? Vorlak hasn't started banning us from leaving has he?"

The Colonel frowned. He disapproves when I make comments about Vorlak. I'm not entirely sure why, to be honest. Maybe Vorlak has some dirt on him or something.

"It's not that, but you will need to get back before evening. We've received word from the district council that they want to meet us all in the compound tonight."

"Any idea what for?" I asked surprised. The district council had been sending some overseer to try and get us to leave the compound for weeks. So far we'd resisted any eviction attempts, but they usually only wanted to speak to one or two of us. They'd never asked us to make sure the whole group was present before today.

He shrugged casually.

"They said something about making an offer that they wanted all of us to hear."

"Probably hoping to pay us to go away without making a scene. Most likely some big shot somewhere bribed them to get this sorted quickly so they can redevelop this area," I reasoned, wondering briefly to myself if I should accept the offer. There were other spots like this on the planet that I could find, certainly I had no loyalty to-

I glanced at John. Okay so maybe I did have some loyalty to the people here, even if I couldn't give a Salarian's cloaca when it came to Vorlak or Kroll. People like John didn't mean much to the rest of the universe, they were cast aside and forgotten. We are just flesh, grown for a purpose, and then thrown away when we fail to serve our intended use.

But we look after our own.