Author's Notes:
If the chapter is all in bold, check your settings and make sure you are in desktop mode.
First off, going to clarify a few things for the readers, since a couple issues have arisen:
1) Why Kane? Why not Louk Shannegh? Why not someone else? Why not a goddamn Space Marine fleet with Mechanicus exploratory crews and ten Inquisitors with retinue and a whole ordo of Sisters of Battle? Because Kane already existed in previous stories and I started this story YEARS ago. Literally as simple as that.
2) How is he alive/kasrkin/etc... while still an Untouchable? The answer is incredibly simple (and it will be fully fleshed out in later chapters). Cadians don't waste resources. They live on the flipping border of the Eye of Terror (still do. Fall of Cadia was prepubescent-fan-written-bullshit fluff. There were a hundred ways Cadia could have fallen and made more sense, been a better story). They can't afford to waste resources, nor would they ever choose to. That being said, there is a reasonable explanation why he made it through the Schola Progenium without being snatched out for special duties. If you've read the other Kane stories, he's a special snowflake among special snowflakes. He has a limited degree of control over his Blank-ness. To a degree, he can hide it. He's not some super powerful Blank. He just is one. Just like some psykers aren't terribly powerful. And he may have had help.
3)On the note of Blanks. Most of the reviews here are caught up on the assumption that each and every Blank is an XBOXHUGE black hole of death and despair in the otherwise vibrant playground of the Warp. That's not even remotely accurate if you have read ANYTHING regarding Blanks in actual books. The lore on Warhammer wiki is incredibly skin-deep and incomplete. If you read books that have Blanks (anything Dan Abnett, for example) Blanks have varying levels of psychic repulsion. Some of them literally just make people uncomfortable. Others can murder psykers by simply walking up to them. See 2), Kane is more of the former.
4) How can a Blank get sucked into the Warp in the first place? Probably because the Warp is an infinite plane of infinite energy, and when all that is unleashed on a specific point of space-time, it doesn't matter what or who or why something is there. A waterproof phone won't stay dry if the entire Pacific ocean drops on it in one go. That being said, they do get spat out... which would apply the same theory of Warp takes a bite, chews on it, spits it out. Blanks are not unlimited anti-warp machines. In the Dan Abnett Ravenor books (which I refer to because he is one of the only competent authors that wrote for GW from the pre-2010 period), the Blank in that story gets his powers burnt out/through by being around the psyker kid. Over time, his ability is worn down and entirely removed. Just like a psyker can have their abilities drained and removed.
5)On the note of ME characters response to having an Untouchable on board and why they are not responding accordingly: First, If a tree falls i nteh woods, does it make a sound? Blanks are an absence in the Warp. If he lands in a reality where there is no Warp, or the Warp is infinitesimally less powerful/connected, would people really notice? I mean, he's an asshat to be sure, but the thing he is absent of is... absent as well? Maybe. It's like if you bring that Harry Potter device that steals light from street lamps into the middle of the woods. It has nothing to steal from... that being said, MAYBE there is a reason why the ordinarily-super-composed Miranda Lawson is so antsy about Kane, and why she so easily threw down with him the computer lab, which was very uncharacteristic for canon Miranda Lawson. Subtlety isn't just a word, you know.
To the Reviewers:
Interested Guest- I really wish I knew where the spam-splat was coming from. Haven't read a single word of it yet. I wouldn't say there is typical romance going on between the two, but I did miss my chance of a Tsundere moment in TWiF, apparently. So...
Edboy4926- I have seen a few other fics take that route where ardat yaksi are possessed or straight daemons, but I'm not going there. This ME setting is extremely Warp-calm. Limited to no daemon influence.
coduss- If you are expecting consistency in an Imperial citizen's beliefs, you're in for a bad time. Kane's a pretty bog-standard 40k human in this story. Everything that he knows is what he was taught in state-church, the Schola, and things he's seen on the field. Space Marines don't count, because they are made by the God-Emperor. Although, he does think they are assholes.
dekuton- Yup. Koolaid is the Imperium's favorite beverage. And a child-brainwashed-killing-machine-murder-hobo has all sorts of indoctrination in his system.
Abaddon953- Being a Blank isn't entirely useless, though I admit it has lost its primary purpose. But, there are other things in the ME galaxy that prey upon the souls and lifeforce of sentients...
grey- Guardsmen Bestmen
turoo- See 5) above.
Guest- Kane did go through the Schola, and Cadians are known for being incredibly tough, psychologically, so it would stand to reason he would know more than most people, even most Guardsmen. And Kasrkin specifically are written in any and all books as being abnormally informed and unimpressed by everything they run into. (Cadian Blood, I think, has a line where a Kasrkin sees a Chaos Titan coming in on his position and just grunts "gonna be a long week")
Guest 2- See above notes
kukuhimanpr- This chapter is the setup for all kinds of Warhammer goodness on Omega. It's gonna be a blast (hint hint)
AngryNightingale- Coincidence, the tabletop game is my cocaine. Been AWOL from editing and writing because of 8th edition.
Disciple of Ember- I am fairly certain there is a pic on the internet somewhere of a techpriest Miranda Lawson I saw. Blam-happy. I love that term. Kane is going to be a powerful fighting force in this, but it's that whole balance of different weapons and tactics, as opposed to higher quality. Obviously, he is a murder-machine. But it's not like he's a Space Marine in ceramite armor with mass-reactive explosive machineguns. He's still a dude.
Dquinnicus- I've seen that ME/40k tends to draw more ME than 40k fans, so I try to not bog it down. And, they aren't in 40k anymore, so there isn't too much need to go dungeon-delving through the lore. What comes up will come up, but everyone's here for the BLAMMING, not the pages and pages of the exact same word-vomit that every single 40k book has in it. :D
Eternal War- I am intentionally underwriting his Blankness for now. See the above notes. And again, I promise it will get fully fleshed out in later chapters. Can't spill everything too quickly. But I appreciate that you like the story.
Vostok2142- Not necessarily. Lots of untouchables slip through the cracks. Just like a lot of psykers miss the Black Ships.
SkinnyDudeGuy- The Deus Irae is stated as being 140 meters tall in Horus Rising. In other sources, Emperor-class Titans are stated as being up to 150 meters tall. Also, Hellguns do not always require a battery pack. It is common to use them, but not mandatory. And you are thinking of hot shot packs, which are different than what hotshot lasguns use (also, being a hellgun, different ballpark). Hot shot packs are specifically used for snipers, as they are 3 or 4 (often actually only 1) high powered charge. Actual hotshot lasguns, volleyguns, and hellguns have specialized magazines designed to work with a higher-intensity charge. Also, variable firepower settings are standard on nearly all las-based weapons, even hellguns. Assuming you are firing at full power, you won't get many shots off regardless. But standard Imperial doctrine doesn't even call for high-power shots when shooting at lightly-armored cultists. Hence the specific mention in Chapter one of the variable settings. If you actually read books, and not skim wikia articles, it's amazing what you can learn about Warhammer 40k lore. I've been in the hobby for over 15 years, and read well over 40 books written by everything from Dan Abnett and Sandy Mitchell to the garbage of C.S. Goto. I think I know what I'm talking about.
erdervv-Jacob does get forgotten a lot, because he falls into the same trap that Kaiden and Ashley did. He's a human in a game about aliens. Who cares, right? (admission, I never NEVER took Jacob as a companion in ME2 for that very reason). But I am trying to get everyone their moment. Even Jacob.
eipok- FF/net does this weird thing where if you get switched to phone mode, it bolds the entire chapter.
Warrior19- Eh, probably. If Shepard held still. Biotics are pretty dang powerful.
ManwithaPlan113- As above, FF/net being dumb.
Carre- WOOT
Guest- There will be some POV from the corporal. He's going to be a bit harder to write though, because I have been having a hard time balancing him in as a major player without being all "LOOK AT ALL THE WARHAMMER PEOPLE DOING THINGS"
Heitomos- see 5), then see 2), then see 4).
aregulargamer1- Just wait until Kane starts explaining the Imperial Truth and what they do to heretics.
OBSERVER1- WooT
BrotherCaptainShepard- Will do!
Approaching Omega, Sahrabarik System
Shepard stood in the conference room, his eyes roving across the dossier without truly reading. There was nothing more to learn. He had studied each dossier over and over, absorbing names, dates, locations, comments. They had two hours until docking. Two hours to settle his nerves and prepare for what lay ahead. The situation was not ideal. He had never set foot on Omega; he did not know the layout or the important people or anything that could provide him insight before they landed. Miranda claimed to have been there before, but she was not in a talkative mood right now and preferred to sit in her office nursing her rapidly-healing injuries. Providing she felt up for it, she would have to accompany him.
He found himself wishing he had Garrus or Wrex aboard. A team of humans would stand out, and he did not want to draw unnecessary attention. It would be better to blend in on Omega. But with only humans on his crew, that was not a likely event. One thing he did know about Omega was that humans were not particularly well liked there. An all-human party would draw conflict. And on a place like Omega, any conflict was conflict worth not having.
Not that Shepard was unused to such places. He had operated in slums before. The atmosphere would be claustrophobic, weighted. Triggermen on every corner, always expecting trouble. A single spark would set off a dozen gunfights. And Shepard now had to wonder if he would bring a powder keg into a space station full of powder kegs. The challenge excited him, just as much as he dreaded it. A thousand unknowns lurked in the shadows. If he could pull it off, it would be a worthy achievement.
Not an achievement. There were no achievements when lives were on the line. There was only victory or failure.
Jacob sipped quietly at his coffee, intently studying the page of his book that had not been flipped in fifteen minutes. The armorer was waiting for the decision. Shepard knew which decision. It was the decision that had gnawed at him for hours. Jacob would come. He had earned it. In the short time that Shepard had known him, Jacob had proven himself to be loyal and handy with both a gun and his biotics. Both traits would be needed. Taking the Cerberus officers was a must.
The real question, the one that was nagging him, was what to do with their guests. Sergeant Kane's question had not settled well with Shepard. He could not deny them access to Omega. To do so would be to hold them hostage, and he had no intention of that happening at the moment. He mainly interacted with Sergeant Kane, and the man had shown himself to be transparent in his beliefs. And his beliefs caused friction. Shepard knew Kane had to be handled delicately. Introducing them to the real world, outside the Normandy would have to happen eventually. It was better to do it now, when their questions and minds were still open and fresh. Letting the issue linger would only do harm.
But bringing them to the world carried its own issues. They would have to keep the situation contained. Shepard had no idea how the men would react to Omega. He doubted he could trust many of his crew to have a good handle on them. Certainly, Jacob could do it, and perhaps Yeoman Chambers. She had developed an affinity for the younger soldier, Trooper Brunson. He wanted a guard with them though, someone who could keep them out of trouble. He could spare Jacob to watch Trooper Brunson. Sergeant Kane would need a firmer hand. Shepard studied the possibility from every angle. Chances were, they would end up shooting at something. It would be a good chance to see how the man handled himself in combat. It would also show whether the man could follow orders when dealing with aliens. Risky, but necessary. Jacob's question had stuck firmly in his mind. If Kane proved himself to be a true soldier, his assistance in their mission could be invaluable.
If Kane could control himself.
"Shepard?" Jacob peered up from his book. His eyebrows maintained their emotive question, the same one that had rested there since he had sat down.
"Just collecting my thoughts" Shepard assured Jacob. "Deciding what to do with Kane."
"Are you going to lock him up?"
"No, I don't think so." Shepard took a long breath, surprised to hear his own words. That line of thought had been suppressed and largely ignored. Had Kane been Alliance, he would already be in the brig. But he was not, neither was Miranda, and this was not the Alliance. Things were unconventional here. This whole situation was unconventional. "That fight was as much Miranda's fault as his. I'm going to give him a chance here. We can't keep them in the dark for forever. Better to get it out of the way."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I'll keep him close. Miranda will go with my team; she has Omega experience."
"You'll need more than her to keep an eye on both of them. Kane will take at least two, and I don't know about the other one. That one could go either way, as I see it. He's acclimating pretty well. Kelly and the Engineering crew have latched onto him and are helping him adjust."
"I know." Shepard's brows scrunched together. "And I think that Sergeant Kane knows that too."
"Yeah." Jacob set the book down and leaned forward in his chair. "He doesn't look too happy when he sees his comrade being chummy with the crew."
"Does he still see us as a threat?" Shepard knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it from someone else.
"He would be a fool not to. It's our ship, our people, our time. He's kicking to stay afloat right now."
"And Omega might drown him."
The armorer said nothing, a sure a sign of his agreement. Venting a frustrated sigh, Shepard took a long sip from his coffee. He paused for a moment, savoring the taste of the blend, admiring the rich quality of the beans.
"What's so funny?" Jacob was playing with his book, turning it over and over as if he might find some secret answer to their problems hidden on its cover.
"I was just thinking how much I like this coffee. The Normandy never had good coffee. It was always this prefabricated tofu crap that…" Shepard trailed off when he realized that Jacob had looked away. The man had a pensive frown on his face. Right. This was the Normandy, too. Different ship, but the same. Shepard still couldn't bring himself to think of it as the Normandy, not privately. It wasn't home to him. He wondered if Jacob was going to report this to Miranda. Potential sign of instability. "I'm just glad that Cerberus put out for the genuine article."
"Only the best for the suicide squad." Jacob offered a forced smile, but the brooding behind his eyes had not faded. Before Shepard could say anything else, Jacob rose and nodded his head. "I've got some stuff to do, last minute prep for Omega. Best of luck with the decision, Commander."
He stepped out, and Shepard stared down at his mug. Several seconds passed in silence, musing over the swirling black drink and the potential consequences of those simple words.
"Fuck."
-v-
Kane applied another few drops of oil to the rag before sliding it down the barrel of his hellgun. He had only fired a few shots with it, but that mattered little to him. Usage was usage, whether it was a single shot or a thousand. Flash-burn built up regardless, and it proved deadly when unchecked. He did not gamble the one-in-a-million odds that something might break down on his rifle. Protect your gear, and it will protect you. The adage kept him alive. It kept so many alive.
The ship's intelligence announced the arrival of Commander Shepard outside the room. He did not pay the door a glance as he confirmed entry. Corporal Brunson had wandered off to find that red-haired officer. The two were developing an unsanctionable relationship; nothing he had to worry about in the short term. There was no carnal infraction, and he doubted that the corporal had the intentions or intelligence to pursue such a thing. And Kane was not the man's keeper. They were both soldiers of Cadia. They knew where the line was drawn. As long as the corporal kept on the correct side, he could do as he would.
"Kane." The Commander stepped inside, wearing the same relaxed fatigues that the entire crew appeared to operate in. Kane appreciated the accessibility and practicality of the uniforms. He did not appreciate the officers showing such a lack of decorum. Wearing the same uniform blurred the distinctions between ranks. It encouraged insubordination and fraternization. Again, he felt disgust at the weakness humanity showed in this time. There was so little discipline, so little rigidity.
Commander Shepard strode past him and sank into a chair next to the lone table in the room. He had two canned beverages in his hands. One extended in offer to Kane. "Drink?"
Kane set the barrel down and accepted the can. It was cold, nearly ice-cold. The pressure built behind his eyes as he studied the runes on the can until it reformed as familiar letters. CorBuch Starlite.
"Alcoholic" the Commander assured him. "Or so they claim. Over two hundred years of service, and they haven't figured out how to make their beer not taste like piss. But it's cheap, and it won't get you wasted."
"Then what's the point?" Kane cracked the lid open and took a long swig. The Commander was not kidding about the taste.
"I don't want you shitfaced when you step on Omega with me."
Kane stared at the Commander over the lip of the can. Uncertain of a reply, he bought time by draining the entire can. The aftertaste was not terrible, and it did give him a pleasant tingling in his belly. Sufficient for a recreational beverage, but certainly not something for when there was serious drinking to be done. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"
"Are you healed up?"
"Your medical technology is astounding" Kane admitted. "Dull throbbing, that is all. It is a tragedy such medicine was lost so long ago." He considered his words. "You know what I mean."
"Then what are your thoughts? Would you go to Omega?"
A deep breath cleared Kane's thoughts. Picking up his hellgun pieces, he quietly began reassembling the weapon. "I just brawled with your executive officer."
"Forget that for now. At breakfast you had asked what my plan was for you. Right now, that plan might include you coming with me to the station. Would you do it?"
To be honest, he did not know. Kane was anxious to be off the ship, to have his feet on solid ground. But he did not know if this was the way to do it. What he had been told of Omega was that it was a xenos den, a nest of vipers and fiends. That would not be friendly territory. Then again, he doubted even a human world would be friendly territory. It did not seem there would be any good options. There would not be a good time or place. Not in this galaxy.
"Assuming I agree, what would be the terms?"
"You follow my orders. You operate as part of my team."
"I can follow orders."
"Even if those orders include recruiting an alien onto the Normandy?"
That was what the Commander wanted to know. Not whether or not Kane would come. Of course Kane would come. That was a given. But bringing a xenos onboard was an entirely different matter. He have never met a xenos that was not trying to kill him. They were freaks and monsters. Living in close proximity to one… he knew he could control himself. His discipline was impeccable. It should have been. His nerves were so frayed, his world so turned-upside-down, that he caught himself wondering if he could force himself to adapt. To endure the presence of xenos.
He did not know the answer, and that disturbed him.
"I can follow orders" he repeated, grinding out the words with obvious displeasure. "However I may request to transfer off-ship permanently if that arrangement proves… unacceptable."
"You do realize that leaving would most likely end up with you being handed off to scientists and researchers for study."
"If they are human, that would be acceptable."
Both men remained silent for a while. Shepard finally spoke again. "I am going to be honest with you, Kane. I don't know if this is a good idea. I don't know if keeping you onboard is a good idea. I don't know if this whole plan in general is a good idea. We're grasping at straws here. I have one ship, just one ship, to try and find a way to stop a galactic invasion of a super race of machines that exterminate the galaxy like clockwork. There aren't even mathematical odds for the likelihood of success here. Any chance I get, any opportunity that arises, I have to take it. You are an opportunity. You just might give us that little bit of extra that could change something down the road, that could change something else, that could lead to a happy ending here. But I don't know. I can't even pray for success, because I don't know what success looks like.
"I have a ship full of spies watching me and reporting to their bosses. I have the Citadel Council questioning my every move and accusing me of treason. The Alliance won't even breathe in my direction. Half the people on this ship think I'm a saint, the others are waiting for me to crack and fall apart. Right now, you are the only person on this ship that I can talk to face-to-face without any ulterior motives. You're an asshole and a bigot, but you are honest. I need that right now. I need your honest, one-hundred percent no-bullshit opinion. You, Omega. Yes or no?"
That, Kane recognized. This was the face of a Cadian company commander who had requested artillery strikes on the incoming Ork horde only to be told the artillery was being diverted to a different part of the line. These were the words of a lieutenant being told to assault the Eldar defense line with no vehicle support, because some nitwit up the chain had pulled the Chimeras to ferry his staff across the back lines. This was frustration, anger, righteousness.
"I will do it."
Some of the tension deflated from the Commander. He offered Kane a reassured smile and drained his own can. The simpleness of the expression put Kane at ease. This was only a man. A man with incredible responsibility, and he knew it. Those were the kind of men that could be trusted. His worries stemmed from whether or not he could accomplish his objective, not how he would look doing it.
"Which is not to say I question you allowing me to accompany you so soon after the brawl I had with Officer Lawson. Does your time not discipline your soldiers? I am still waiting for you to send me to the brig."
"You are not an Alliance soldier." The Commander shrugged. "As far as I am concerned, you are a diplomat. That means you have a degree of immunity. That being said, my threat stands. If you are in another fight like that… airlock."
"Fair." Kane stood slowly, testing his side for pain. He extended his hand and they shook. "What is the loadout for this and how long do I have?"
"Armed, armored. It is a pirate's den, so we will go in prepared for trouble. Your armor isn't shielded, but we can rig a portable shield generator for you. And I would suggest not taking a sword. Your rifle will draw enough attention as it is. Though I pray were don't have to fire it. A single clip of that hitting the Extranet will blow us into the spotlight, and I enjoy being able to fly under the radar for a while."
"Understood. Forces?"
"Ours? Three-person team. You, myself, Miranda. We will be investigating the first dossier target. I am considering letting your corporal go with Jacob and Kelly to gather supplies. Let him stretch his legs, but keep him out of trouble."
Kane sorted through his questions, wondering which to press first. "Three people? That is an incredibly small team."
"We aren't exactly storming an enemy position, Kane. Will that be a problem?"
"I can work at any force level." He held up a finger. "But putting myself and Officer Lawson on the team, would that be wise?"
"Have you talked to her, apologized?"
"Not yet. I assumed letting some time to cool off would be beneficial."
"Well, you are both professionals. Talk to her before we step off, and fix it. Even if it's a slap of a bandaid, make it work."
"Can do."
"Can do, or will do?" Commander Shepard eyed him challengingly.
"Both, Commander. As far as Officer Lawson is concerned, I am sure she is your executive officer for a reason. She has skills and knowledge that have earned her the position. Our personal issues have no place on the battlefield; what is important is the team's ability to complete the mission. I can swallow my pride for the sake of the objective. And, there isn't any wounded pride here."
"Okay. Go talk to her. You don't need an escort, and you know where her quarters are."
"Yes, Commander."
"And stop calling me that." Commander Shepard offered a weary smile. "You can call me Shepard, or John. Whichever works."
"Yes sir… Shepard." Kane put his hands to his chest in the shape of the aquila. Shepard studied the gesture for a moment before offering his time's salute. "Let' do this."
Kane stepped out of the room in full armor. It was the first time wearing it since they had come aboard. Two days without armor had left him itchy to have it back on. Donning his armor had easily been one of the most soothing moments of the day. His sidearm slid into its holster with the gratifying shuck of metal on leather. Slipping three grenades, one krak and two frag, into his belt, he shouldered his pack and checked the charge on the power packs. They were fully charged and their batteries were tight to maximum efficiency. Kane approved. Jacob Taylor had been right in his assessment regarding the zero core. The energy they used here was so clean he did not notice any inefficiency in the recharging. There was actually a slight fluctuation that appeared to have restored past degradation. The magazines were juiced to factory specifications. More technology that could restore the Imperium to its former glory, had it not been lost.
His combat bayonet went on last, sliding into its hidden sheath under his bicep plate. It was an unusual place for the weapon, most of his fellow Kasrkin had laughed at it. But it was easy to access and people didn't look for it there. Surprise was a huge factor in close quarters combat. It had saved his life on numerous occasions. If it was stupid, but it worked, it wasn't stupid.
Being back in armor reminded Kane of how much taller he was than the average crew member. They were generally short, roughly the size of a normal Guardsman or a little less. His natural height, coupled with the genetic modifications of the Schola Progenium, set him almost a head and a half over them when in armor. Part of that was because of his boots, he knew that. They were heavy duty boots, designed to protect his feet in harsh conditions and lined with armor plating, thermal and shock absorbers as well. The armor bulked out his figure in general. Every piece of his gear was larger. He knew intimidation was part of being a Kasrkin. Fear was one of the many weapons in a Kasrkin's arsenal.
Leaving his hellgun slung over one shoulder and his helmet tucked under his arm, Kane strode through the Normandy's decks until he found the armory. The one or two crewmen he encountered hurried to get out of his way, peeling to the bulkheads as if afraid he would snap out and strike them. Their apprehension amused him, even though it struck him as correct. They should be afraid of him. They should all be afraid.
Jacob was working away on a device the size of a melta bomb. Kane approached slowly, not wanting to disturb him. The AI spoiled that effort when she addressed them both.
"Officer Taylor. Sergeant Kane is here to see you regarding the shield generator."
"Thanks, EDI." Jacob set his work down and turned towards Kane. He tapped the object on the table and gestured for the Kasrkin to come closer. "This is it, Kane. It'll give you protection in a fight and is rated at about ten rounds."
"It will stop ten rounds," Kane repeated, making sure he understood. When Jacob nodded he examined the piece closely. "Ten standard rounds, sniper rounds, what? Then it's done?"
"Once depleted it has to cool down, but after a few seconds it will come back on and recharge."
"Rechargeable personal shields?" Kane considered the wonder of their technology. "How do I know when it is powered?"
"When it gets low it will emit a soft warning tone. And when it starts recharging it will hum. Short wavelength, so you will be just about the only one to hear it."
"Is it visible?"
"Only when taking shots. Happens split-second, and a lot of people blink, so you probably won't notice it. Otherwise, it's invisible."
"I don't blink," Kane muttered.
"Huh?"
"I don't blink when taking fire." Kane crossed his arms.
"Okay then." Jacob picked the device up and handed it to Kane. The armorer clearly had no stomach to contend that point. "I can mag-clamp it to your armor."
Kane nodded. "Small of my back, where it will be out of the way. That should work."
Bending over one of the tables, he waited for Jacob to install the generator. It took a little experimenting for him to clamp it down in a secure manner. Kane spent a minute walking around the armory, testing the new weight. It was very light, almost weightless. It would take getting used to. For now though, he did not think he would change his tactics. Assume every bullet is a lethal one and you will get home just fine.
"How does it work?"
"It blocks projectiles moving over a certain speed" Jacob told him. "Slow-moving objects like a thrown ball or a knife will get through, but we rarely get in that close."
"High velocity protection. We have some technology that could do the like. Not at this scale though." Kane patted his arm sheath. "I've got my own close quarter weapon defenses."
"I remember that," the armorer said. "You're pretty nifty with that?"
"We are trained to be."
Jacob nodded and pointed to the hellgun. "Shepard letting you take the laser rifle?"
"Hellgun. He said so. Why?"
"Oh, nothing against it. Just curious." Jacob shrugged. "That could be trouble.'
"Yes." Kane knew what the man meant. Firing an energy weapon in a projectile-based time would raise eyebrows. But he wasn't about to leave it behind. Or go into battle with a weapon he did not know intimately. The hellgun had served him since his late days in the Schola. He would rather die than be parted from it.
The door on the CIC-side opened. Yeoman Chambers strutted in, the look on her face making Kane wonder if she had eaten a sour meal. Looking from Jacob to the weapons lockers, she sighed and held out her hand with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner in queue for an injection.
"John wants me armed" she complained.
"Never thought I'd hear a human not want to walk armed with the xenos" Kane grumbled.
The woman looked at him and the sourness faded. Her brilliant smile eased onto her face as if it had never left. They hadn't spoken but one time in passing. Corporal Brunson had taken an instant shine to the perky redhead though, and Kane had heard plenty of compliments about the Yeoman. He did not feel comfortable getting too nice with her though, because Shepard had confirmed that she was a spy. Perhaps not as these people saw it, but a spy was a spy no matter the term.
"It's not that I don't think Omega is dangerous," she said. "I'm not naïve. I'm a pacifist."
"What in Throne's teeth is a pacifist?" Kane voiced his incredulity at the word. He had a terrible feeling that he knew what it meant.
Her smile did not falter. She had a very nice smile, and was generous with showing it. As far as he could tell, it was a defense mechanism as much as it was a weapon. "I'm just sure that Kyle and Jacob will keep me safe."
"Kyle?" Kane looked from her to Jacob. They stared back.
"Your buddy. Kyle Brunson."
"Ah." Kane grunted. "Shepard did mention the three of you were stepping off without a proper escort."
"We aren't going out to fight a war."
"On a pirate-infested den…"
"Well," Her smile somehow became sweeter. "I have two strong and handsome soldiers to keep me safe."
"Speaking of…" Jacob handed her a Phalanx pistol. "Here you go, Kelly. Not loaded, as usual."
Noting the odd look Kane sent them both, Jacob explained. "I've learned her heatsinks tend to end up discarded somewhere, so it's better to just hold onto them. Saves the ammunition."
"This time never ceases to horrify," Kane muttered.
Giving the armorer a thanks for the shield generator, Kane backed out of the armory and left the two crewmembers to a discussion of what sort of weapon Jacob would be carrying. She was terribly good at her job, getting people on her side. That sort of thing was dangerous. He would need to watch the corporal carefully. Clearly, the man was vulnerable. Vulnerability led to doubt. And doubt led to heresy.
It was troubling enough that Shepard considered drawing xenos into the ranks of this vessel. Their mission, one he had little understanding of, proclaimed the standard doom and gloom he would have found in any sermon of an Ecclesiarchy minister. But there was no clear understanding. Something about a monster race coming to destroy them all. But there were no details, nothing he could draw from. It could all be speculation. Or it could be a startling truth that the whole galaxy had chosen to ignore.
This one crew, a small band of less than a hundred, fully expected to bring about a stop to this supposed cataclysm. The absurdity of the concept made him question the Commander's bravery and intelligence. This was not the sort of thing that could be handled by a single ship. Even the Inquisition hunted threats larger than a system's threat in packs, acquiring as many assets as physically present for the job. In the Imperium, there was no such thing as overkill. It was hard to believe humanity could survive without the same application.
His path took him down the side-stairs to the executive officer's quarters. Officer Lawson's position rated her own multi-room suite, doubling as both workroom and bedroom. Incredibly lavish, especially for a ship this small, to apply so much space to a single individual. Officers had their perks in any fleet, it seemed. The location was primed for access, at least. A few dozen feet from the elevator, same level as the medical bay. Quick sprint up the stairs to the CIC.
A small box had been installed at throat-height by the door. Kane studied it for a minute before deciding that the simple red button underneath the vox-box sufficed. He pressed and waited for the light tone that indicated a connection had been achieved.
"Officer Lawson, I would request a word."
Silence greeted his announcement. Kane waited for an appropriate amount of time before repeating his statement. Again, he heard nothing back, and began to wonder if she was even in.
The orange run on the door changed to green, and the steel pieces slid away just a breath later. Miranda Lawson stood framed in the door, shadows catching the curves of her body from the lights behind, a faded bruising still showing about her nose from its rapid healing. A fierce scowl lit her features. He was becoming quite familiar with that expression of hers. It was as prominent on her as a smile was on Yeoman Chambers.
"Officer." He released the button.
"That button occupies the channel," she grumbled. "If you keep holding it like a monkey, I can't tell you to come in."
Kane bit back a response, and followed her inside. The room was bare, spartan, lacking even basic ornamentation or the trophies he would have expected in an Imperial officer's room. A single bookshelf stood to the right behind a large black desk, occupied with genuine paperbound books. He studied them in passing, noting instruction manuals, academic pieces, and a few select small ones that appeared to be recreational. The sight of it nearly stopped him. He had never seen a physical book in such excellent condition. Such precious things were a treasure in the Imperium.
Forcing past his wonder, he let his attention shift over her desk. Three holoscreens occupied her desk, each one filled with scrolling data and symbols he would never be able to understand. Past her work area, a framed partition split the room, revealing a luxurious bed tucked in the back as well as an L-shaped couch and a low table stacked with paper reports and even more books. Other than that, nothing that showed any personal belongings, or any kind of clue into what sort of person she was. Or maybe, it told him exactly what kind of person she was. A scholar, a scientist. He found himself surprised that he had not expected anything different.
Officer Lawson circled around the desk and took her seat, tipping her hand to indicate the chair.
"I came to apologize for my actions," Kane told her, forcing the words out. It grated at this lungs. It was not the first time he had apologized over something that was not his fault. Did not make it any less frustrating. "When you manifested your... power, I made an assumption about you. That assumption was incorrect."
Her glare did not lessen, nor did she reply. Her expression radiated impatience, irritation.
"Is that all?"
"It is." Kane refused to rise to the bait.
"Then your apology is accepted." She turned her attention back to her work. Kane waited patiently, knowing that he had all the time in the world. After a minute or two, she glanced up, feigning annoyed surprise at his presence. "You have something to say?"
"You do." He met her gaze without blinking.
"Do I?" Her facade nearly slipped into a smirk, but she smothered it quickly.
"It takes two to fight, Madam Lawson."
"That it does." She sighed quietly and put down her stylus pen. "So you are expecting an apology as well?"
"Commander Shepard is expecting one. He has us on ground team, alongside him, here at Omega."
"I have been told so much." She nodded slowly. "And what do you think of it?"
"I believe you and I have similar minds of the decision." Kane appreciated her honesty, in this respect. Her own impression read clearly on her face. "Regardless, we are required to operate alongside each other. There will be no issue on my end, but the Commander wants us to make an effort to settle this confrontation."
"Confrontation?" She scoffed. "Is that what you call trying to break my neck?"
Kane shrugged.
"I can put aside any personal conflict for the sake of the team."
"Then we have a truce?"
"We do."
"Then I am done here." Kane rose to his feet and clasped his fist to his chest in informal salute. "Permission to be dismissed?"
"Granted." Miranda tapped a button her her desk, and the door slid open.
Omega, Sahrabarik System
Shepard led the team out of the airlock and into the dusty tunnel that led into Omega proper. He scanned the bulkheads as they moved, noting the reddish-black rock that pressed against the transparent windows. A claustrophobic would have panic attacks here. He glanced back at his teammates. Kane's tall and armored frame stood out like a krogan among salarians. Blocky and angular, the armor cast an intimidating shadow across the lighted tunnel, and the confident swing of his step intimated sudden violence.
The man had chosen to leave his hellgun slung over his shoulder in a neutral pose. It was a rare show of trust compared to what Shepard would have expected. In retrospect, Shepard would have preferred he held the weapon at the ready. With the rise of collapsible weapons technology and microchips, it was the rare weapon that retained a sling. Just relic weapons and custom-crafting. This was just one more reason for eyes to be on the hulking Cadian. God only knew the repercussions of a news feed or video catching the hellgun in action.
"Stay tight" Shepard reminded them, not that he needed to. Sergeant Kane clung to his side with professional attachment, copying his stride in length and speed perfectly, his posture indicating a guarding position. His Cerberus agents were less robotic in following, but knew how to maintain a close formation. The resulting block of armed warriors cut a clear message to anyone who wanted to mistake them for prey.
After the tunnel came the entryway. Two tunnels branched into this entrance, one of many dotting the asteroid. Joker had reported that there were dozens, most were hidden or secured. This particular one appeared well-used. According to the basic map scans that had been auto-forwarded to the Normandy's databanks, this entrance had the prestigious placement of being closest to the Queen of Omega's den. The proximity had set his teeth on edge. It made him wonder if she knew.
The rumors that had reached him about Aria of Omega were quite colorful and dire. A powerful biotic warrior, a shrewd gang leader, and a brutal commander. If anyone knew where his targets were, it would be her. And she would know if Shepard did not go straight to see her. Aria was a crime lord, and no crime lord trusted in the loyalty of those around them. If he avoided her, she would consider it a threat, in one way or another. He was not going to endanger his crew over a misunderstanding. And he also needed to know what he was up against here. If he could reach an agreement with the Queen of Omega, this could go so much easier.
Though, really, he doubted anything ever went easy on Omega.
A squirrely salarian approached them from the secondary airlock that would introduce them to Omega's bright and shiny interior. It clasped its hands together in nervous anticipation as it sized them up. A squatter, or some low-end thug, stationed around the airlocks to try and shake down passengers. Shepard wondered how often that worked in a place like this.
"Ah, welcome to Omega! You are new here, aren't you? I can tell. I've got an eye for new blood. Allow me to-"
Shepard might have let the salarian keep talking, but the hatch behind opened and an armed batarian stormed through. Kane shifted subtly, hand drifted down to his hellgun's grip, prepared to flip it over and into a firing position in a moment's notice. But the batarian was not interested in them. He stormed up to the salarian and pushed the smaller alien roughly to the side.
"Bug off, Fargut!" The batarian made a show of pointing his rifle not-quite at the salarian. "Now!"
"Su- Sure, Molkan. Whatever you say. I was just doing as sh-"
"Now, worm!"
Bowing frantically, the salarian scuttled off and disappeared back into the hatch. They all watched it's deflated retreat, some in humor, others in impatience. Once the doors slammed shut again, the batarian clipped his rifle back behind his back and held up his hands to show he intended no threat.
"Blasted scavengers don't have a damned brain between them. Welcome to Omega, Shepard."
More than one of his companions tensed at the casual reference of his name. That was supposed to be a secret. When Joker had transmitted the Normandy's codes, the data had been falsified ID. A mark-one eyeball would have spotted the lie easily, but no one transmitted their real ID when coming to a place like Omega. Still, how could they have known Shepard himself was there. Then again, Shepard had a pretty recognizable face. Though it did not explain how the batarian could have such a calm reaction to seeing him.
"You know who I am?"
Stupid question, and it shot out of his mouth before he could stop it. Smoothly adjusting his reaction, he straightened his posture a little more and crossed his arms over his chest. He would not show any sort of weakness here. Batarians had no respect for anyone that showed signs of weakness.
"Of course I know who you are." The batarian's voice grated in annoyance. "Everyone in the fracking galaxy knows who you are. And yes, we had you tagged the moment you entered the system. Real clever, Normandy SR-2. Would have thought you humans would have found a grander name for it. Subtle, you aren't."
"Fracking xenos bastard."
Kane's grunted whisper stretched ominously across the chamber, amplified by his speakers. Shepard and his people understood it, of course. But the batarian wouldn't. Maybe that was why the Cadian had not kept his voice lowered as he cursed.
Gliding over the moment, Shepard stole the batarian's curious look back to himself. "So what now? I assume you have a message for me?"
"Lose the tone, Shepard. You might be hotshit in Citadel space, but out here, your name carries less weight than that salarian I just told to bugger off. Aria wants to know what brings a dead Spectre to Omega, so I suggest you go and present yourself to the Afterlife now."
Thirty seconds onto Omega and she was already waiting for him. This was a wonderful start. He had a feeling this was not going to be as quiet as he could have hoped.
Step One: Formulate the Plan.
Step Two: Forget the Plan
"I'm not here to cause problems," Shepard assured the man.
The batarian laughed, his rumbling grumble sounding like crushed gravel. "Things explode around you, Shepard. You can't blame Aria for keeping an eye on you. Afterlife Bar, now." Before turning, the batarian glanced up at Kane, sizing him up with a blank look. "Tough guy, that one? Keep a leash on him."
Leaving them with the same graceless air he had approached with, the batarian called Molkan stomped away. A snuffling sound wheezed out of Kane's helmet speakers. The man did love the effect that helmet-modulated voice gave off. Even though Shepard knew what the man was saying, it still sounded angry and terrifying. Sort of like German.
"I am looking forward to killing that one" the Cadian muttered.
"Hold your temper" Shepard warned.
"Held."
"And don't talk too much. No one here is going to understand you, and that's going to draw attention."
Signalling to the others, Shepard ordered Jacob, Kelly, and Brunson to split off and go about their business. Theirs was mundane, entirely ordinary. Nothing that Aria would be bothered by. Her spies would follow them and see absolutely nothing to worry about. Unless Kelly improving the morale of the station through her infectious cheerfulness was worrisome. Miranda and Kane followed him. They would go pay respects to Aria and see what she had to say about their presence.
The first thought that struck Shepard as he entered Omega proper was how familiar it all was. Blazing neon lights hung before, above, around, every corner and shop. A cacophony of lights bathed concrete, rock, flesh. The glow-like aura of life drowned everything, burning away true colors and distorting his vision. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze, trying to focus on specific images and bodies. Mobs poured through the streets and alleys, filling doorways like rushing tides, spilling around stalls and merging in and out of the momentum with practiced experience. Hundreds of bodies crammed shoulder to shoulder, all moving, all angry and sullen.
This was a powder keg of fantastic proportions.
"Bladerunner," Miranda said, her voice low but serious.
"What?"
"You're thinking it reminds you of Bladerunner. Most people do when they first see Omega."
"It wasn't… but now that you mention it, I get it." God, it had been years. He had been, what, twelve? Classic Film, back in secondary school. They watched eight different versions of it that year. He had hated it, back then. But now he saw the beauty of it. Controlled anarchy, a riot of life.
Miranda guided them, having been on the asteroid before. She slid through the crowd like water, sifting in between bodies as if she had always walked its crowded streets. Her Cerberus bodysuit drew many stares, and not because of the unassuming logo on her shoulders. Nothing worth suspecting trouble, but nothing that did not set Shepard's teeth on edge. He stuck close to her side, providing that extra bulk to ward off any stupid ideas. Not that Miranda was incapable of caring for herself.
Trailing behind them, stomped the hulking form of Kane. The Cadian had no trouble making his way through the crowds, though where Shepard and Miranda weaved their way, he merely bulldozed forward like a krogan among salarians. His massive carapace armor towered above heads like a beacon, and his broad arms pushed people aside when they were too slow to vacate his path. One or two pushed back, cursing and barking complaints. After he sent one reeling with a vicious backhand, others stayed out of his way. The backhand surprisingly drew little attention. In a place like this, it was hardly uncommon. Anything short of a drawn weapon was to be expected here. Kane's attitude matched the atmosphere perfectly. So long as he left it at that.
They walked for most of a kilometer before spotting the brilliant and dominating sign for the Afterlife Bar. Aria's place had its own little plaza, a premium resort in a place like this where every square foot was fought over and bartered for. Whether or not it had been prepared before or after her reign, the place had been developed into both a fortress and an entertainment facility. Shepard noted the hidden turrets and surveillance gear spread through the nooks and crannies. No one with ill-intent could come within eyesight of this place without getting picked out. And probably picked off.
Seven steps lifted the Afterlife Bar above the street-level, and a half-dozen bouncers guarded the front and ensured the long lines remained in order. Light-rails guided the throng hoping to gain entrance, and the hopefuls maintained their composure. Certainly they knew how hard it was to curry Aria's favor, and how easy it would be to lose their chance.
Not that everyone was coming just for her. It was still a bar, after all, and widely regarded to be the most well-stocked one on the asteroid. Considering Aria's crew had first pick of everything coming onto the station. Even the most casual attendee of the Afterlife Bar would be making the most of their visit. Proximity to the Queen alone was enough for bragging rights and stories.
Staring dubiously at the line, Shepard considered whether he had the time to wait. The batarian saved them the decision, reappearing from the group of bouncers. "That line is for peons, Shepard." He gestured for them to follow. "Welcome to the Afterlife Bar. You made the smart choice coming this quickly."
Curious mutters arose from the lines as Shepard and the others were escorted around the light-rails and taken directly to the doors. Molkan grunted to the bouncers, who obligingly stepped aside. None of the hopefuls complained, but Shepard could feel their eyes on his back. Wondering who it was that earned a skip through the lines. Someone close to Aria, they would be thinking. Or, at the least, someone incredibly important. It would not be long before the smart ones put two and two together.
He had never really expected to remain under the radar for long anyways. At least he wasn't going to have to report on this to the Council.
"Go on in." Molkan nodded jerkingly with his head. "Word of warning: you start anything in there, Aria will finish it. I'm talking to you, tough guy."
The implied threat had no effect on Kane, who responded with stony silence that may have been genuine, or he had turned off his helmet speakers. The Cadian stared down at the batarian, and it appeared neither was willing to back down before the other. Miranda interposed herself and pulled on Kane's arm before either decided to do something stupid.
The Afterlife Bar was just like any other bar Shepard had set foot in, but ramped up to eleven. Just like outside, the interior was washed out in bursts of colored light coming from every corner. The thumping bass of the music drowned out all but the loudest sounds. Thick banks of artificial fog wafted through the hallways and over the dance spaces, seeded with airborne intoxicants. The main floor stretched a good deal, almost large enough for a concert house, with many side rooms for gambling or private meetings. And the dancers were everywhere. Some on stages, others gyrating in suspended cages, some plying their trade on more lucrative laps. Drugs were offered openly alongside the alcohol, and minors appeared just as welcome as adults in all activities. The only thing he did not see were rows of small living units reserved for prostitutes and their clients. Considering everything else was on open display, Shepard doubted those would be tucked anywhere else. Maybe Aria did have one vice that she refused to partake in at her sanctum. Or there physically wasn't enough space to make it viable here.
Everything here was designed to distract, to confuse. On the simplest level, it improved revenue. The less in control a person was, the more likely they were to spend money. On a grander scale, it would keep any aggressors off-balance should she come under attack. And it made it easier for her spies to gain information through all the mess. Shepard counted almost half the patrons to be watching them, and not out of idle curiosity. In a place like Afterlife, no one wanted to be watched, or to watch others. The fact that so many were eying Shepard and his lot meant that Aria had them under incredible surveillance. And assembled so quickly, too. They were surrounded by people ready to kill them. That felt familiar, at least.
"Blue-skinned, directly ahead, two levels up," Kane muttered, nudged Shepard's elbow. The Cadian stared defiantly up at the asari in the VIP-box, meeting her gaze through the veil of his visor. Even at the distance, obscured by the smoke, Shepard knew who it was.
Proud and statuesque, Aria of Omega stood in the balcony with her hands resting on the railing. They spent a moment staring at each other, one in wary contempt, the other in guarded curiosity. Then, in a motion so slight it was nearly invisible, the asari tipped her head to the right, where a set a stairs guarded by two batarians led to the box. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the chamber.
One of the asari dancers slinked off her stage, detaching from her gratuitous dance with ease, and intercepted them. Though her expression was light and her voice breathy from exertion, she nonetheless carried herself with a seriousness that informed them she was no ordinary dancer.
"The Mistress bids you enter via those stairs" she told them, sliding around Shepard, trailing one hand up his arm as if propositioning him for a personal dance. That is what it would have looked like to an outsider. Why she bothered with the deception, Shepard did not know. But she did, and he allowed it. She was a sinuous creature, with a touch of age around her eyes and mouth, more a matron than a maiden. Commando, possibly. Probably. "Be respectful, be courteous. As far as you are concerned, she is the judge, jury, and executioner here. And do not address her by name unless she gives you permission."
Twirling behind him, she placed her chin on Shepard's armored shoulder and cooed softly. "Welcome to Omega, Shepard. I'll be down here when you finish, should you need a… personal tour."
Her message delivered, she stepped away, but not before letting her hand slide down to offer a firm slap on Shepard's buttocks. The armored plate deflected the intent, but the meaning came clearly enough. Stalking off lithely into the crowd, the asari dancer approached the bar and took a seat near the corner. Shepard shook his head ever so slightly and glanced at the others. Miranda showed nothing, her thoughts private. Kane's posture had grown even tenser than before. The Cadian carried himself as if he walked in a minefield, and a single misstep might kill him.
"Those are…" his question lingered, spoken with clinical precision of a scientist viewing a newfound insect for the first time.
"Asari."
"I don't see any males of their kind here."
"The asari are a mono-gendered race" Miranda answered, making the subtle step forward that got them moving again. The guards by the stairs were tracking their approach from across the floor. "They self-prescribe as an all-female race, seeing as how they fulfill the female gender role in nearly all effects."
"That is disgusting." Kane growled a few unintelligible phrases under his breath that were most likely curses with no appropriate translation.
"They are also the the most powerful biotics and the longest-lived Council race. They were the ones to discover the Citadel, and had a hand in uplifting most of the sentient races in Council space."
"I have no idea what any of that means. Why the frack are there no males?"
"Evolved that way," Shepard answered, cutting off Miranda before she wasted more time trying to explain it. "Don't bust an aneurysm trying to wrap your head around it. Just enjoy the view."
"There is nothing here to enjoy" the Cadian grumbled. "Just bastard xenos freaks."
"I am so glad you chose to bring him along," Miranda muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Shepard to hear.
The batarians halted them at the foot of the stairs.
"Shepard," the first one said, a statement not a question.
"Yes."
"Leave your weapons here." The second hit a button and a section of the wall crumpled in on itself, revealing a small compartment just too small to hold a body. "No one sees Aria armed."
Knowing better than to argue, Shepard handed over his weapons. Miranda did likewise, handing over her Tempest submachine gun, by far the least dangerous weapon she possessed. That pleased the batarians, but their scowls deepened when Kane made no move to comply.
"Sergeant Kane?"
"I refuse to leave these weapons in the hands of xenos." The Cadian slowly unslung his hellgun, but rather than offering it, he clutched it in a neutral pose. One that could leap to a shooting one in a tick. "These weapons were consecrated in the holy forges of Cadia. They are baptized in the blood of xenos and daemons. I would die before letting them be touched by filthy xenos scum."
Even as Shepard formulated an argument to berate the Cadian, he realized that Kane was entirely right, but not for that reason. His weapons were easily identifiable as unique on close inspection. If these went out of sight for even a moment, there would be no telling what the batarians might do, or Aria for that matter. Scan them, confiscate them, steal them? No, Kane was right. He could not hand them over.
Damn it.
"We'll be right back. Stay out of trouble." Shepard nodded respectfully. Turning back to the guards, who handled their weapons nervously, he jerked his thumb towards Kane. "He's staying down here. Keeping his weapons."
"Not sure that's an option for you. The Mistress wants to see all of you."
The batarians lifted their rifles, aiming them directly at Kane. The Cadian growled menacingly, but made no move to lift his own weapon. If he did, there would be a shootout. And there were too many guns aimed their way. Despite that, he noted Miranda balling her hands into fists, and purpling energy seeped into the air around gloves. They were all tensing for a fight.
"Hey!" Molkan came storming up from behind them. Shoving past Miranda, he grabbed the barrels of both batarians' rifles and shoved them towards the floor. Both guards started in surprise at his appearance. "What are you idiots doing? Put your damn weapons down before you hurt yourselves."
"Sure, Molkan," one sputtered. "We were-"
"I know what you were doing, idiot. You were drawing on a damned Spectre and his posse. Do you want to be the one that has to tell Aria why a firefight erupted in Afterlife?"
"But th-"
"But nothing! Go turn in, swap out with Grizz and Anto. You two are down for the day." Molkan sent them packing like a schoolteacher, both with heads ducked low in embarrassment. He growled after them before turning back to Shepard. "Let me guess, tough guy here causing trouble."
"He's staying here if we have to turn over weapons," Shepard answered. "That was it."
"Well, bad news for you that Aria wants to talk to all of you. Good news is, you're a Spectre, so disarming you is about as useful as sponge-bathing a krogan. Pick up your guns, Shepard. Just don't draw them. Since everyone else here seems to be taking stupid pills, I'll escort you up."
Shepard climbed the stairs and went to meet the most powerful person in Omega.
-v-
Kane did not like this. They were surrounded by armed xenos, many of which were watching them with open hostility. Putting aside his own prejudice, what sort of madman would willingly step into such a place? He had hardly seen another human in the throng. Perhaps there weren't any. Regardless, they were surrounded by hostiles. The two guards had not been any different, just less well trained. It was good they had not been forced to fire, though, because the odds were too great even for him. He could only fight so many guns without cover. The simple shield generator that Jacob Taylor had given him could not possibly hold up against that much firepower, nor could his armor.
The Commander had insisted on his trust, and his obedience. So far, it was tolerable. He had maintained low expectations going into this warp-spawned hole, but his patience endured. As they reached the door that led to the central room, Kane heaved a long breath and braced himself for whatever lay inside. He expected a den of depravity and sins just like the rest of his establishment had to offer.
What he found instead was a rather collected and clean private room, just like in any of the officer quarters he had seen in Imperial territory. Couches occupied the middle of the room, and an open wall led to the balcony with more seats and small tables of refreshments. The lighting here was white and sensible, revealing all but not distracting in its intensity. The sound was muted too, as if some technology prevented incoming sound from reaching those inside this room. It was secured. That was good. That told him more of what he needed to know. This was a trusted sanctum.
The other occupants of the room watched their entrance. Three more guards: one of the ugly four-eyed monsters, a turian, and the giant hump-backed hulk called krogan. All three held shotguns in tightly clenched hands, all three watched them with expectation. More trigger-happy xenos guards. It was a wonder that gun battles did not occur on an hourly basis. Kane wanted nothing more than to put holes in their grimy skulls, especially the humpback's sneering grotesque face. Its thick stubby fingers drummed relentlessly on the trigger guard of its oversized shotgun, flaunting its intent. They were all cocky and arrogant. Two things that often preceded an inglorious death, in his experience.
Their leader, at least, appeared to have some competence. The blue-skinned xenos stood in the threshold of the balcony, watching them with appraisal. Were she a human she might have been seductive in her pose, with tight leather clothing clinging to her curves and revealing just the right amount of flesh to rile the imagination, mouth pursed in a frown that offered both dripping condescension and careful promise. Pale blue eyes tracked over them, inspecting each in turn, giving each the same amount of study as the next. Her skin gleamed in the light, drawing attention to the slit along the sides of her pants, and her exposed belly. Had she been human, she might have been attractive. But her blue skin, the tentacle growths on her head, it all was wrong.
Her posture dripped with righteous arrogance, a creature that knew she was in charge, knew she had power. Kane understood that she did, at the moment. With so many guns at her back, she had supreme rulership. If an Imperial detachment was sent here, though, he knew she would tuck her tail and run like the cowardly wretch that she was.
"Commander Shepard, approach." She gestured towards the balcony. Shepard gave Miranda and Kane a reassuring look before stepping up to join her. Left behind, they waited patiently. Kane ignored the leering gazes of the xenos guards. They were jealous of his weapons and armor. Even if they could not understand what he carried, they knew it was better. Taking his cue from Officer Lawson, he snapped into the at-ease position and focused on listening. He listened to sounds, whispers, the cycling of an unseen air-conditioner. It was quiet in here. The sharp disconnect between this room and the outside establishment could be felt in the thrumming of energy current in the air. A significant amount of power channeled into this room, enough to power devices capable of shielding it from the cacophony outside.
His eyes wandered over to his comrade. Officer Lawson had slipped into her usual impatient pose of crossing her arms under her chest and leaning on one hip, her expression soured as if she were being told to wait while an urgent matter called for her attention. Her sleek bodysuit turned the pose into a quite distracting scene, something that he noted the xenos guards had recognized and were enjoying quite openly. Her back turned, she endured their stares with the insufferable patience of someone used to it.
"Pretty gun," the krogan grumbled, stepping forward in a surge of muscle. It stopped in front of Kane, peering up at him in its beady eyes. It was taller than him, with the hump, but its low-set head put them near at eye level. "I want to see it."
The Cerberus agent watched in his peripheral vision. Though her head remained pointed in the direction of the quietly conversing Commander Shepard and Aria, her eyes flicked over the krogan and she sent a clear message. Don't pick a fight. Saying nothing, but tensing her fists again. Ready to step to the plate if she needed it. Point in her favor, she was brave. Krogan-kind were large monsters, about the same size as Ogryn. He could see the muscles abounding under its heavy plated armor. In a slugging match, it would probably crush any of them.
That's why he wouldn't throw a punch.
"Hey, are you deaf?" It took a heavy step forward, its weight setting off a small vibration through the floor. Kane took a deep breath, taking the tension in his body and spreading it evenly across his nerves. He fought down the knotting sensation in his muscles, the adrenaline trickling through his veins. A single drop of sweat dripped down his brow. It wasn't fear. This xenos was asking for a lasbolt through the face. It was a struggle to not oblige.
"Officer Lawson, if you would," he said, straining to keep the aggression out of his voice. The krogan's face crinkled in an ugly frown at the unfamiliar language. They all noticed it. It gaped, trying to understand, then its puny mind gave up and concentrated on something else.
"I don't know what that was, smartass. I want to see your gun."
Kane refused to look away from the creature. One thing consistent to all animals, eye contact established dominance. He would not give this one any sense of superiority. Miranda Lawson stepped in to intercept, an exasperated grimace on her face. She held one hand in front of the krogan, warding him back.
"He said no. It's a family heirloom."
"Touchy, huh?" The krogan shouldered her aside. She stumbled back with the impact, recoiling from its impressive strength.
Kane's fist snapped out and struck the xenos square in the nose. Unprepared for the blow, the krogan toppled over backwards, arms flailing. Quick as a flash, the Kasrkin leapt over the struggling monster and lifted an armored boot to stomp on its face. Then two bodies slammed him back against the wall, dropping back in an instant to train their rifles on him. Aria's guards screamed at him to not move, even as the krogan rolled over onto its stomach and shakily pulled itself up. Miranda scrambled up beside him, her sidearm holstered, hands up and glowing with biotic power.
"Stop!"
They all froze, even the guards. Eyes turned to the speaker. Aria stomped down from the balcony. The biotic power thrumming from her body warped the air, creating a shimmering outline. The guards backed away, lowering their weapons respectfully, even as they shot spiteful glances at Kane. For his part, he held his hands up and out, clear for inspection. Only the krogan remained moving, shuffling back to its feet and clutching at its bleeding nose.
"That human just-"
"I saw what it did." She stopped in front of the krogan and glared at it. The krogan must have weighed three times her, but it wilted and backed away submissively.
Miranda stood in front and slightly to the side, shoulders overlapping, protective of her comrade. The Cerberus agent met Aria's gaze, resisting visibly as the asari put a hand on her shoulder and gently but forcibly eased her out of the way. There was no threat in her posture, not more than could be expected. Curiosity bled through the irritation in her expression, and she pressed her face closer, squinting as if the effort would pierce the reflectionless material of his visor.
"I just watched a human level a krogan with one punch. That doesn't happen often. What is your name, human?"
"His name is Kane," Shepard answered, coming up behind her. Giving Kane a meaningful look, he tipped his head back. Kane understood, though he did not like it. But Shepard had demanded trust.
Bracing himself, he reached up and detached his helmet. The rebreather filters had done a good job of keeping out the narcotics-laced air. It tasted like sweet flowers and syrup. He could instantly taste it, and it soured this experience even more. Showing his face to a self-proclaimed crime lord was not helping either.
They studied each other for a long minute, neither blinking, neither speaking. For what it was worth, she had a very striking, memorable face. Berry-blue skin, unblemished by freckles of wrinkles, with a dark strip of tattooed ink splitting her chin below the lip. A similar tattoo graced her forehead, drawn in stylized imitation of eyebrows, connected by stylus-thin parallel lines. She was not entirely revolting, but Kane could not tear away his disgust at the glistening tentacles on the top of her head. This was nothing close to human, no matter how it appeared.
It was xenos, and it was a monster.
"Violet eyes…" she muttered, more to herself than him. Taking a step back, she pointed at the krogan. Her expression went from thoughtful to spiteful in an instant. "Do I have to remind you what a guest is? I invited these people in to talk, not to brawl. Get out of my sight, you useless worm."
The krogan cowered away and scurried out. It would have been comical how it feared the much smaller alien, but Kane was not watching. He retained his attention to the asari.
"I like this one," Aria stated. Her hand drifted dangerously close to Kane's face as she gestured at him. Kane tightened his jaw and pretended to not be imagining snapping her neck. "A little large for a human Where did you find him?"
"Around." Shepard shrugged.
"What's he saying? Why can't I hear him?"
His obvious refusal to offer more drew a pursed frown from the crime lord, but she left it at that. Returning to the balcony, she sat down and bade Shepard join her, and they resumed their talks. All as if nothing had happened. Kane put his helmet back on and gratefully sucked in a long breath of filtered air.
"Idiot," Miranda whispered, speaking softly so only Kane could hear. "What did Shepard say?"
"He struck first."
"I didn't need help."
"I'll keep that in mind next time an Ogryn-sized brute throws you halfway across the room."
"He didn't-"
She sighed loudly and fell silent, choosing to bottle in her aggravation. Kane loosened his muscles with a subtle shake, and replayed the moment in his head. That had been gratifying. Incredibly, indescribably gratifying. And now he had learned something. As big as the krogan were, they did not have the best center of gravity. And they were not so hard as he had expected.
At last, Shepard rejoined them and indicated it was time to leave. They moved out quickly, avoiding the angry guards. There was an aggressiveness there that had not been there before. They were mad. One of their own had gotten decked, and Aria had sided against them. But now they were dismissed, the audience was over. They were no longer guests, they were just people. Rules of hospitality were over.
"So what did we learn?"
"Aria gave me the location of Mordin Solus. Salarian scientist. He's in one of the living districts. Plague outbreak. Supposedly he's in there trying to cure it."
"What sort of plague?" Kane asked the question innocently enough, but his mind kicked into high gear. Plague outbreaks happened all the time on Imperial worlds. Most of them were fine, nothing to worry about. But there was always a chance…
"Not sure. But it is affecting non-humans only."
"Humans are resistant?"
"Aria believes that humans are immune to it."
Kane whistled. "That's useful."
Both shot him a warning look. None of the aliens in the Afterlife Bar could understand him, but the effect might not have been lost. Kane shut his mouth anyways. He considered the possibility of a specialized xenos-plague. Something that only targeted non-humans. Either the xenos of this time had much less durable genetics, or the technology was that much more advanced. Kane found his steps faltering in his introspection.
"Something wrong, Kane?"
There was concern in Shepard's voice. The Kasrkin glanced over, weighing his thoughts before he spoke. This was not a conversation to have in public. Especially not in a bar filled with angry xenos.
"Another time, Shepard. You don't want to have this talk here."
"Why do I have feeling I won't like this talk?"
"Because you won't." Kane eyed the dancer that had approached them earlier. The woman-creature had slid off her seat at the bar and started an approach. "Left side."
Turning halfway to see the incomer, Shepard lifted his hand and made a cutting motion, stopping the asari mid-step. A disappointed pout formed on the dancer's lips, and she retreated to the bar for another round. Throne! This place truly was a pit of sin and vileness. Kane's skin itched for need of fresher air. If they were going into a district under quarantine, it was going to be a long day.