CODEX - Emerald
Emerald is a mountain-ridden world with numerous smaller tectonic plates creating massive ranges in the northern hemisphere. Most comparative biomes are cooler then their Earth-based equivalents, and often see conditions from the interaction between the numerous mountain ranges and weather systems. Notably with less comparative rainfall and deep, widespread oceans. The northern hemisphere contains the planetary capital situated in a large mountain range, while the southern city of Guinessburg serves as the primary manufacturing and mining center.
Originally settled by unsanctioned Asari groups in 1923, the colony saw little interest due to the relatively cold conditions until the imperial collapse saw a one-time influx of Batarian immigration shortly followed by a small colonial Turian community fleeing the associated conflict of Gemina-F-6. In recent years the colony has seen a boom in population from Humans and Turians not affiliated with their governments, with the amount of human immigrants placing them as the most populous species on the planet.
The planet remains nominally independent, maintaining a planetary defense force and orbital assets for defense against terminus raiders. The local planetary militia curbs efforts from the Eclipse and Blue Suns to establish influence, and its value as a trade hub makes it safe from retribution and heavily invested in Traverse, Verge and Terminus economies.
Orbital Distance: 1.4 AU
Orbital Period: 2.3 Earth Years
Keplerian Ratio: 0.519
Radius: 5 883.6 Kilometers
Day Length: 27.6 hours (Earth Standard)
Atm. Pressure: 1.38 atm
Surface Temp: 12 °C
Surface Gravity: 0.88 g
Date: 02/05/2182 Gregorian Calendar, Emerald.
I stood at a bar, fallen on old habits and fleeing to a familiar venue of work on a new planet. Not quite comfortable after the events, I was working as a bartender instead of my usual security job, for what difference that made with full gear anyways. Syella worked as security in the VIP area upstairs, an armored reminder for patrons that the dancer's own biotics were only a single line of security in a club built like a fortress. My first time at the facility when I was looking for work was a mix of angled walls, deployable cover pieces and built-in barriers for the bartenders and dancers in terms of what I noticed. The handful of turrets built in I'd learned about after getting the job. A rustle of the door made me smell Guinessburg's metallic-tinged air and I briefly glanced at the armored turian bouncer who waved a customer in before drifting.
The corsairs had obviously confirmed our story when they raided the complex, though we'd seen a heavily restricted stay on the ship after they returned. Given that neither of us particularly cared where the trip ended the captain had seen fit to throw us out on his first supply stop to a colony. Arriving in the prefab-city mixed with local concrete forest that was the main spaceport city didn't have much fanfare as the pair of us were shoved off the ship with our gear and a small section of the salvage from said base as payment. We were showered, tended and fed with clinical efficiency more as a result of our own perpetual moods than anything the crew did. We had sat alone, ate alone, and slept alone in our cell when we weren't being escorted around the ship for errands. It had been two days of impatient waiting, of tempers being kept in check as we escaped the slaver's cells to end up in those of our rescuers. Maybe things would have been better if not for Syella being an alien, but I'd assumed if anything the corsairs would be okay with an asari over a batarian or turian. Nonetheless the conditions were frosty towards her at the start, and the conduct towards me degraded as I isolated myself from both the crew and her.
And they shot Nylack upon breaching, I mean I get the batarian on a slaving ship thing considering it's what we were trying to imitate. Flash bang would have worked a lot better for everyone.
So we'd ended up on Emerald, a rather lovely green-orb not that well known in the galaxy and with a decently sized local business clientele that kept most pirate or slaver groups away by the sheer count of warships, armed freighters or privateers in orbit, all present to protect the industrial complexes in the southern hemisphere and the ranches that sprawled across sections of the untamed northern half.
I snapped back to reality as a customer order pinged on my tool, pulling out the requisite honey-mead imported from an asari colony I couldn't pronounce and sent it over with the server who showed up momentarily, the woman nodding before glancing in the direction of a booth full of youths and handing me a tip. Likely a thanks for the well-received suggestion of a Trident seaweed-brew that had a now too familiar place in my memories. Glancing at the chrono I sighed, eyes flicking between the crowd and the FLCD screens to alleviate the boredom of the slow hours. The group of kids sat in a corner booth, young to be in a bar as per the drinking age being a relatively lax suggestion compared to elsewhere. I kept watch as two of them headed over to where an asari merc was drinking by herself, her interesting purple-red skin standing out from the dancers upstairs or the other pale-blue maiden at a table. I watched the kid try to flirt with someone who was probably ten times her age, the maiden having the patience to brush off the calm but inexperienced actions without mirth, a trace of good humour in her smile at the attempt before the kid finally got the hint and left. The sight did little to break me out of monotony, and I returned my gaze to the bioti-ball game on the venue's projector rather than resume my scan of the patrons.
The bar filled up as the clock ticked on, and I took more and more orders when a freighter crew seemingly on leave staked the place out in a blob of weary-eyed customers. The baker's dozen of human men kept me filling up pitchers of cheap local pilsner while the group of batarians in their corner booth indulged in a medium-grade planetary brew shipped in from up the more batarian-populated northern hemisphere. The tips from the two groups were poor and I was nearing the end of my shift when a few of each group started to converse at the bar. Loudly. I caught snippets of the conversation before things escalated, the already harsh tones coming into play before I heard a crash and turned around. The salarian barkeep on that side had taken cover behind the bar, his light flak jacket not suited to brawling with those in light armor or cargo gear.
One of the humans was thrown into the counter, spilling over the edge and next to the salarian. Shards of shattered glasses filled the air with tinkling sounds and he remained still, the larger sections of both groups now standing up and facing off. I activated my omni-tool and primed a neural shock mine to hit the group.
Time to deal with this.
Doing my job, I finally spoke. "Enough. Go back to your drinks and your corners, leave at separate times, security will be watching."
They stopped glaring at each other and looked at me, several in each group trying to turn back while others looked at the opposing group or me with annoyance.
One of the human crew broke the silence with a slurred exclamation. "Why you helping them human, fucking squints are slavers anyway!"
I watched one of the batarians at the edge of the gathering hurl a bottle, my arm taking aim with the omni-mine and firing as the purple-filled projectile left the grey-skinned alien's hand. The bottle exploded as collateral against the head of a sailor instead of the intended target, knocking her down as green shards and blood fell from the top of her head. Immediately afterwards my tech mine landed on the edge of the batarian group and sent three to the ground, paralyzed with pain and writhing as the rest of both groups surged towards each other and other patrons got up to get involved. I slammed the panic button under my counter as fast as I could when the blocks of bodies made contact. A pair of batarians jumped to tackle a small man and sent him tumbling in a heap, a redhead in an engineer's outfit threw her drink in a batarians face and started pummeling the alien when he clutched at his eyes in pain. A single flash of blue lit up the level as the light-blue asari joined in on the batarians side of the brawl, with more patrons started grouping up and lashing out as the situation devolved or simply fleeing for the doors or quiet corners.
A flying batarian landed on me as I was trying to draw my rifle, sending the weapon skidding across the bar area and under the counter where it slid out of reach. My arms moved, blocking a series of sloppy but powerful punches with my gauntlets while his armor in turn boosted his strength. Each of the four hits jarred my arms and sent them closer to my head, but I managed to hook him with my legs and slam him into the bar headfirst.
He redoubled and I flexed my hips and sent him into the wall again, then again, and again before his eyes finally closed and his thrashing arms stopped their attack on my back. As I rolled upright in the opposite direction, I could feel the beginnings of a series of bruises through my armor. I began to take stock of the brawl, noting the four bouncers were now involved and tazing patrons with modified pistols or shock batons.
A batarian in front of me fell, the taser rounds from a bouncer getting through and hitting skin. I watched a turian dragged into the match rake his claws across a batarian engineers' torso, getting caught in the flak jacket underneath and leaving them awkwardly entangled before both were hit by the same light-blue asari. She'd switched from biotic-enhanced blows and a barrier to actual kinetic actions, and I loaded a dampening tech-dart from behind the bar before popping up and launching. An explosion of green energy and the asari's barrier and corona collapsed with a snarl, turning to glare at me as a now only-average strength punch glanced off her current target. She slipped into the crowd of taller beings and I lost her for ten seconds. Biotics flickered back to life and I felt myself leave the ground, floating in a lift field as I tried to spin before getting caught by an enhanced punch. My left side exploded in pain even through the armor as I felt a rib crack, spun around in the air before slamming into the corner of the room, a second of pained floating before I dropped. Landing on my feet was impossible and I heard a crunch as a discarded chair had its legs crushed, painfully jabbing me before I ceased motion.
You hit her too soon, should have followed up with a neural-shock afterwards or gone in with fists after she was closer.
I looked up to find her again and correct my mistake, and annoyed when I couldn't find her launched the neural shock tech-mine I'd readied at a trio of brawling patrons, sending them to the ground. I saw one of the bouncers get mobbed by a pair of human freighter crew and go to the ground with a broken mandible, finally saw the same asari send someone flying into the FLCD screens on a wall before she caught sight of me. More biotics flared and I braced for another hit, but relaxed when the dancers and Syella arrived from the secondary staircase, having done their job and sealed off the calmer VIP area at our expense.
Stasis bubbles appeared amongst the dozen or so patrons still brawling, humans and batarians frozen in assorted poses and states of injury. Slowly released in groups from stasis and evicted from the establishment, I made sure the humans got out first, followed by the turians. Nobody posed a problem with the dancers and Syella present, the rest of the bouncers able to stand next to them with blatantly held pistols. I leaned where I'd fallen, omni-tool still glowing with a neural shock dart queued up for the asari. The medi-gel in my suit felt cold against my ribs, and each breath coincided with a lull and release of dull agony.
The manager arrived, a comparatively short krogan that still outweighed me four times, green and brown skin complexion with a few frilly spikes around his neck and chin. Two-hundred and seventy kilograms of reptile decided it would be heard, and all the staff knew it was a good idea to shut up, myself included. One of the human bouncers was still unconscious, pushed into a recovery position by one of the dancers, who turned her head away from checking him for other injuries with care to stare at our boss.
"Property damage seems minimal, so all of you squishy aliens better consider yourselves lucky that it won't come out of any paychecks." He spoke as he paced up and down, no actual anger but a hint of annoyance below the veneer. "Security, I expected better of your abilities to deal with troublemakers, you let the bartender notice the issue before you. This is unforgivable. No pay for today's shifts."
The annoyed groans and curses were quickly cut off as he turned to glare at them again before resuming the lecture. "Dancers, VIP bouncer; You did well in suppressing the brawl once present yet despite this you spent too long ensuring the complacency of the VIP area. They are the trusted guests, they will not start a fight. Leave a pair of biotics there for security and come down faster when the panic button is hit."
The group of asari in skin-tight uniforms nodded, Syella remaining motionless and glancing at me with an odd look from her position against the wall.
Traesh Nakmor spoke again, glancing between the salarian bartender standing with the rest of the staff, and me leaning against the wall. "Sen, use your omni-tool next time. Nikolai had the right idea until he didn't coordinate and tried to take a heavy-hitter solo. This got him sent across the room." His gaze focused on me. "However, you also acted like a bouncer, a fighter and not support staff. You should of called the crew at the start, not tried to diffuse a situation with no leverage. Syella, take your human to a clinic and go home."
An annoyed response from her. "He's not my human."
Nonetheless, she came towards me and offered an arm for support. I shrugged off the assistance and got up myself. Stopping to pick up my marksmen rifle made me wince when I'd bent over. A hand on my shoulder as I pulled myself back up and let her retrieve the gun for me. Accepting the rifle with a nod as the two of us left, nobody else sufficiently injured aside from the broken-mandibled turian who had already walked out clutching the facial appendage before the boss arrived, and the human bouncer now seemingly awake without much aside a nasty black eye for later. A few seconds on my omni-tool summoned an autonomous groundcar cab, and the pair of us entered the vehicle in silence.
Syella spoke up halfway to the clinic, inquisitive tone not quite as hidden as she was attempting. "You've been quite quiet for the past week Nikolai, generally not a pleasant tide with humans."
She makes the effort to sound like she cares at least. Pretty sure there's some sociological developmental issues with her condition going by codex, so I'll take that with a grain of salt. Or you could trust her, since even if she doesn't care the empathy has to take effort.
I let out a sigh and shifted, the motion causing another flare in my ribs as I mulled over an answer for a few seconds. I really didn't want to talk, didn't want to talk about anything. I just wanted to be left alone, get some sleep and go to work the next day, maybe grab a few hours of omni-tool games instead of the drinking I couldn't do. Syella turned away with a frown at the lack of an answer, leaving me in silence for the rest of the trip.
Exiting the vehicle, we stepped out in front of a small clinic run by an ex-military human doctor. Stark white walls on the outside with a pair of military security mechs I couldn't identify standing guard with grade-four Lancers. A VI tone welcomed us as we entered the waiting area, easily disinfected plastic seats placed along the walls and in benches through the center. An asari receptionist sat at the desk, a high-grade Locust SMG visible on her hips as she glanced up when we entered.
Syella spoke up before I could, nudging me on my non-injured side. "Human got thrown across the room by a bitchy maiden when he was doing his job. Shallow idiot hit her with a dampening dart but couldn't follow up, got thrown in her fit when it wore off."
The receptionist gave a grim smirk as she replied. "Merc job gone wrong? Probably not the best to advert-"
I cut her off before Syella could, noticing them both seem surprised at the move. "I'm a bartender at Traesh's place. Not a merc."
"Rifle like that and your omni-tool launcher says otherwise kid, head to the back and the salarian will take care of you."
I frowned at her and walked in. Syella keeping pace behind me as her boots clacked more often than mine due to her faster but shorter stride as we passed a series of rooms. Visible through several windows were examination or treatment rooms made of easily-cleaned tiles surrounding an observation table with disinfectant sprayers in the ceiling. Modular, sterile, easily able to separate different patients and infections.
Am I really that transparent? That readable? Or is it a mere side-effect of a longer lifespan, a more social psychology?
The VI directed us into one of the observation rooms, the bed was standard-sized for more common species, not for a krogan or elcor patient. Volus and quarians could make do with the rooms ability to seal, though any atmosphere changes for the ammonia-breathers could be expensive.
A salarian medical tech with a green-blue complexion took my vitals with a scan of his omni-tool. A prick on my arm as a vial of blood was drawn for analysis and checkup (in case of a toxin-dipped gauntlet or lingering cell damage from a warp-field). I stripped my torso armor off, not caring who else was in the room, glancing up as the human doctor walked in wearing a standard Sirta Foundation medical scrub. Older, beard greying and hairline receding. He was still in decent shape but starting to show a few rounder spots from civilian life, the noticeability of older civilian gene-mods present on his form.
A cursory touch-exam of my ribcage as he checked for tender spots, presumably basing the response on the scans taken for the break. I winced a few times over certain areas but for the most part suffered for the old-fashioned check, just wanting to head home.
"Well, Nikolai it says here. Seems likely you came in for the ribs, so you should be happy to know there's no indication of vascular tissue or intra-abdominal injury. However, two of the middle ribs on your left side show signs of fracture, and while the medi-gel injection your armor administered did its job avoiding further strain it may take up to a week to properly heal with continued gel injection."
Expected, could have gone worse against a biotic.
"Stay away from any strenuous activity that may cause further aggravation, especially combat as it seemed to be the cause. Given the area I suggest you keep your armor on just for the support, and the medical suite you have will continue to do its job about injections. There's a few supplementary painkillers that I would normally suggest you take for the comfort, but the maxx you seem to be indulging in interferes with several and can have unpleasant results. Not the most uncommon in your line of work but I'll forward you a list of possible side-effects and stuff to avoid while taking it."
Shit.
The doctor stopped talking for a few seconds, concentration as he brought up his omni-tool and presumably sent off the message. I could check later, and so kept my gaze on him as he resumed speaking.
"Overall you should be good to go with some higher-grade medigel from our dispenser. Payment of three hundred credits to the secretary at the door for the consultation, plus any of the medigel purchases."
Business concluded he left so I could dress in peace, Syella waiting silently on the side while I reapplied my armor. I finally finished and proceeded to leave, noting that her walk was more rigid, less of the usual attention-lowering effort. I thought it may have been a good idea for her to get a checkup if something was bothering her, but at least I'd respect her privacy. We walked out, Syella paid the receptionist before I could. Upon leaving the building I started the twenty-minute walk towards our apartment, already feeling better with the medi-gel doing its job.
You need to sleep.
Syella caught up to me, her stride aggressive enough to match my longer steps while her arms were held out tense. She slowed as she flanked me on the left before grabbing my forearms. I winced as the still-tender skin underneath burned and stopped walking to turn around and glare at her.
"What the hell's your problem Syella!" I snapped, pulling my arm away from her grip by rotating it away. I met a pissed-off glare for a second as I cradled the pained appendage before letting it hang at my side, five strips of contact throbbing with tender gel-supported skin growths.
Her stance set, weight going onto her left hip and turning her head to meet my directly. I was confused at the amount of annoyance her body language conveyed. A mix of the human traits she'd picked up and the asari rigidity-set leaning stance didn't bode well, and I watched a few other pedestrians give us a bit more of a gap, especially the asari ones.
A string of asari colonial dialect I couldn't place. "Maxx, you're using tides-damned maxx! Do you have any idea how stupid it is for a non-asari to use that stuff, never mind your species having a decent chemical compatibility making it not immediately lethal?"
A sudden pause, her facial expression shifting to compassion, eyes staring into mine and switching gears as she continued. "Is it for memories" Her voice was gentle, a tone lower. My eye twitched, same voice as the morning after doing its work. "Is this how you've been dealing with it? Is this why you haven't had a drink, had someone to the apartment? Trying to understand the flow of events does no good, your mind stagnates human. The corruption spreads through the groundwater, and you lose what you have."
I let out a sigh, relaxing as I clutched my arm closer. "How is this an issue Syella, you haven't been handling it any better. That's a lot of honey mead for an asari your size, never mind the times I worked late while you had a guest over. Guess we should just be happy you haven't accidently turned anyone interesting into a vegetable yet, or did you get that out of your syste-"
A blue fist slammed into my jaw, and I felt my top incisor split before a chunk flew out, slicing into my lip as a few drops of red stained the front of my armor. I stumbled backwards, hands cradling my jaw as I felt my gums swell, blood from the slice slowly pooling amongst my teeth. Syella waved a skycar with her omni and got in, the more expensive option flying away and leaving me on a street corner. A pair of humans stared at me, a single asari looked to the skycar with a frown, and a salarian walked by utterly unconcerned.
"You okay human?"
Flanging Voice, probably turian.
I looked up at the speaker, a male turian with an easy foot of height more than me. Yellow bars and circles for colony markings on blue-grey skin with a normal-looking fringe. Two small protrusions on where a human's temples would be, the inch-long raised sections of plating added another distinguishing feature.
I wiped away some of the blood with an offered cloth, giving a nod in thanks as he took the cloth back. A flick of the mandibles and he walked away, the subtle whirring of an exoskeleton in the Predator heavy armor he was wearing. I shot a glare at the humans still watching me, they turned and I raised my omni-tool to hail a groundcar for myself. My fingers passed through empty air, the lack of haptics making me look down at my wrist and discover the missing band on my armor.
I turned back towards the clinic and began to jog, reaching the doors in a few minutes before slowing down to avoid slamming into the door. The same asari receptionist looked up with a raised eyebrow at my state.
I inquired before she could. "Did I leave my omni-tool in the examination room?"
A moment of surprise across her face, leaning forwards as she spoke. "The doctor did not state anything, I can check if you wish."
I nodded, and she got up and headed to the back. I felt my ribs begin to ache and took a seat on one of the benches. A minute passed before light footsteps heralded her return, arms empty as she gave a quick flick of her hands.
"Found nothing."
Annoyed, I walked away and was heading out the door when I stopped. Turning around I asked. "The salarian lab-tech from before, is he still here?"
She responded politely, apparently not making the connection or more likely just not caring. "No Human, Mannu left just after you did. Is there anything else?"
I shook my head silently and walked away. Salarian might of swiped my omni-tool, would probably try to sell to one of the mercenary outfitter stores. Lax security and a lack of care to where products came from for some of the smaller shops.
I walked and looked around for a starting point. A batarian-run cafe down the street had a sign that my translator read as an advertisement for public local intranet and extranet terminals. A quick place to get a map for my helmet HUD and hardsuit computer, maybe do a local search of the clinic's site for an employee list. Nonetheless I still had armor-cam footage of him anyways, which let me do a VI-comparison if I was willing to give up the credits.
As I approached the door to the establishment I caught the eye of the batarian bouncer. He shifted and pointed his shotgun down, but still in my direction as he sized me up. A slight tilt of my head to the left as I looked at his topmost eyes seemed to relax him, a human showing a bit of cultural respect no matter how sincere enough to get into the cafe.
The smell of roasting meats and acidic sauces filled my nose, smoked imported and vat-grown fish hung in sight behind the counter while a pale-blue asari server took orders from the batarian workers and occasional mercs that dotted the place, a single group of patrons having a pair of heavy-set human men at their table. Several quads of eyes snapped to me, and a slight tip of my head as I chose a booth with a terminal made them disperse with only the occasional grunt as I settled into the booth. The server handed me a menu and a few local plant-fiber napkins with a gesture to her lip. I wiped my own with one and it came away red, the gum swelling had gone down slightly but a small trickle of blood from the now-shattered incisor was still present. A closed-mouth smile at the waitress got me one in return, and she left me with the menu.
The selection was a standard mix of colonial batarian fare, mostly imported or vat-grown analogs of animals from Khar'shan or other colonies. The unique red-fleshed fish analogs were featured in high level, the often-smoked cuts matching the ones I'd seen hanging. I selected a stew that I'd had in a different establishment and paid to the table slot with a credit chit I kept in my armor. The stew was a heavy, spicy blend that I hoped would serve as a distraction from my dispute with Syella while I focused on recovering my omni. No way I was asking for help after what had just went down. No point getting yelled at and creeped out again, never mind that we split the rent.
The stew arrived, and I thanked the server as she dropped it off at the table. Snapped out of my reading I took a moment to notice and give her a small tip. Six head-tents as most common, small red markings in clusters around her eyes with a set of darker, purple triangles taking form above her forehead in an almond pattern. I'd thought that was actually rather clever, pseudo-eyes for an asari who deals with a lot of batarians, might help a bit subconsciously. I did notice the lack of a weapon on her person though, either she had it hidden or was confident enough in her biotics or coworkers.
Assuming I'm reading her correctly anyways. Alien.
I made a few queries from the pop-out terminal. My VI-managed information requests yielded little on Mannu, even the higher-quality search I paid a few credits to allocate for only pulled up the safe comparison I'd done myself. Nothing so far, credits to rule out ideas. I lamented on the stew I'd absentmindedly consumed half of already. The heat and acid burned at the broken gum, a sense of pain that I welcomed in regards for the clarity it provided. The meats were salty, smokey and fell apart from the cooking - though it had sat too long; the flavors mended together a bit too well. Decent but not my focus, yet I couldn't find anything else on the salarian. I decided it was time to check the merc shops, see if they'd picked up a modified Polaris-IV lately.
As I finished the stew I caught a glance at a short figure in the kitchen, my curiosity getting the better as I stared for a second before realizing that a cafe full of batarians was a bad place to do so. So, I left instead, thoughts of the batarian female I'd seen a momentary distraction. One didn't usually see them often as apparently the Hegemony did what it could to limit their travel outside its colonies, so the outcasts, pirates and various rejects one saw outside their systems rarely had a notable population of them. Her upper eyes were smaller, closer to the center of her head while the larger lower eyes pushed out almost like a salarian. The cartilage band was covered up and blended in except for the outside of her nose and the top of her bald head, while a slightly longer neck then her male counterparts flowed into a less pronounced chin. Teal-green skin with a paler stripe up the center of her face presumably lead down past her neck.
Interesting, note on Hegemony cultural sexism, not relevant. Get moving.
I gently tilted my head to the left for the batarian at the door and gave a small wave to the server on my way out, hands removing my helmet from the shoulder mount so I could use the HUD for a map. A map of the area appeared with pins on the merc retailers, all of thirteen in the locale. Seven were mid-sized while six were large venues with what I assumed would be more security and fabrication rights instead of resale, less likely to have stolen goods. Sensible would be me hitting the medium-sized venues first, but It would still take several hours to go through all the stores. I'd considered hailing a groundcar but decided on the cheaper bike option.
The first stop had been a few kilometers away, all of five minutes on the motorbike. It was sequestered in the same general area, a mix of human prefabs with a few batarian-influenced structures for Guinessburg' s small population of them. Two bulky, well-fed batarian guards stood at the door, a foot over my height and dwarfing the usual low-caste workers that most humans could out mass. A product of the weird metabolism for their species. A tip of my head to the left slightly got me in. The armor and guns I was wearing probably also helped, never mind the smell of batarian cuisine I was sure their sensitive noses could still detect.
The store was dimly lit, with brighter spotlights on racks of weapons for sale. A mix of homebrew equipment, imported Batarian State Arms guns and armor, modified alliance gear and assorted terminus models filled the shelves, a pathetically small omni-tool section next to a few batarian close-quarters weapons. Mostly shoddy batarian models and some Elkoss Combine designs, none matching my omni-tool. I strolled up to the counter were a more normal-sized batarian stood over a few assault rifles, flicking a datapad as he fiddled around with an ammo-block.
"Pick up any Polaris-IV tools lately? My old one got hit in my last fight and I was looking for a replacement."
Four yellowed eyes snapped up to look at me, and I met the top pair as he spoke. "No human, what you see is what we have when it comes to those. Sure you don't want to upgrade that little peashooter for a Kishock or Halbast? Both pack a bit more of a punch."
I shook my head in response when his eyes hardened for a second. A dismissive grunt served as a good reason to exit the store without buying anything, and the same tilt got me past the guards without issue. I once again hopped the bike and consulted my planned route. Two human-run stores were next, with a higher-end store afterwards and a more general multi-species store after that in turn before the circuit ended with a primarily turian store. I'd thought all worth a check.
The next human store I'd barely spared a glance at. Mostly low-level volus knockoff gear mixed with some SA surplus and a lot of barely-legal explosives. No back room for tech and no tech in the store, arguably a waste of time but it still narrowed down the list. I checked my map, the next one took me into one of the worst districts and I'd polarized my visor in preparation.
The building quality dropped suddenly across a street, the prefabs older, more worn and less intact. Further on was a small block of hastily thrown concrete or local wood shacks and even a few tents. Guns were more apparent and the streets emptier, the mix of humans, batarians and turians down on luck small compared to most colonies or urban ventures but still present. A run-down apartment block at the end of the street had well-armed Eclipse team outside. That was notable, given the local security forces didn't like the merc groups setting up large shops or centers here. The store came into view and I examined the fortified building.
It resembled a fortress to some extent. Reinforced balconies with gun and anti-vehicle emplacements on the second and fourth floors, while deployable cover panels at the entrance court gave the guards an option to hold out if needed. The entrance was armored, two sets of blast door opening into the main area as I walked in past the human guards, heavy Onyx suits and Mattock rifles an odd and very human combination. The first floor was empty of guns, instead having Hahne-Kedar and Aldrin Labs suits standing in rows or pieced out for customization. What caught my eye was a single pre-contact exo-suit on display in the corner, still hefting the unloaded minigun in its arms from behind a barrier display curtain. They were well-funded for their location, and not as flamboyant on their site page as in the store. Nonetheless the all-human customers and employees paid my gawking at the suit little mind before I'd snapped out of it and took the stairs to the next level.
At the tech counter stood a receiving desk for used gear, so I shuffled into the spot deciding a direct approach was best. Lacking an omni-tool to pull up an image on I instead had to rely on talking.
"Get a Polaris-IV from a blue-green salarian at all lately?"
The bald, middle-aged Russian at the counter shook his head before answering. "We don't take secondhand tech from greys. Too much risk of something being in them. He steal it or something?"
I nodded, and he gave a snort before speaking again. "Alrighty, there's a salarian section of Guria's Ware's that may have it, the commando shop closer to the spaceport. They'd have taken it if it was modded to a decent quality, blue's like stuff like that for sentinel usage."
I got up and walked away without anything else. The vibe I got from the store was not one of a friendly attitudes to other species, so I doubted they'd lie to cover a salarian thief. The other two stores were on my list included the commando shop, and my conversation had not given any other options. I exited the store, nodding at the guards who'd done their job and not let my ride be touched before I mounted the bike and set off towards the spaceport.
I drove on, setting my helmet filters to close when the smell of unwashed bodies and refuse mixed with ozone and char from the port. Shuttle and aircar traffic picked up overhead and I began to share the road with larger vehicles, civilian trucks and the occasional M-29 Grizzly or M-080 Bull converted for civilian usage. A single M-26 Whitetip AFV with the colours of the colony security group came into sight, large mass accelerator cannon locked forward as the very-clearly not civilian vehicle received a nice buffer zone I made use of to pass a truck. I veered down a side street filled with casinos and hotels for spacers that led to the prefab serving as a commando outlet, noticing the two asari in commando leathers standing outside the door with asari-made pistols of some design on their hips. I dismounted as both stopped to glare at me.
The smaller one met my eyes first, violet skin tone that seemed less common on the citadel and more common out here in the traverse pairing with dark blue stripes along her crest. Three inches shorter than I was in armor, the black set of commando leathers was more armored than her companion, additional impact plates and kinetic barrier projectors dotted on the surface of her torso and limbs with a bandoleer of flash grenades slung over a shoulder. Her counterpart was taller, a deep blue with green and white facial markings that likely trailed among her limbs given her unadorned hands also sported some. Her taller posture lent her rod-straight stance an edge, topping me by a few inches and making her short head-tents almost comical.
The taller one strode up to meet me, subtle biotic barrier flickering as we both stopped a few feet away from each other. She spoke first, a low voice with a smug superiority I assumed was earned in combat. "You a biotic?"
I met the piercing gaze, a set of silver irises staring down the young, non-biotic thing walking up to a store that catered more to the elite, or the arrogant. Both more than a match for me without - and probably with - my omni-tool, decades of experience and training simply bolstered their ability to smear me across the floor. I was not inclined to fight commandos, or even just mercs with biotics styling themselves as such.
Honesty seems prudent.
"Have you picked up any second-hand Polaris omni-tools today." I spoke, attempting to hide any nerves the commandos were causing.
I had no idea if it was working or not, and I barely held myself back as the guard laughed. A harsh bark that made her shorter companion roll her eyes and take a moment to analyze me. I settled my stance, trying to convey annoyance with the situation but be respectful.
"No human, we don't take any secondhand gear stock. We haven't got a modified omni-tool in a long time since most of us tend to rely on biotics, but an Armali or Serrice tool does a commando a better job than most of the junk you'll end up with here. You seem to be okay, perhaps if you can spare a few thousand credits we'll let you make a purchase."
I let a bit of a smile slip at her comment before I replied. "Thanks, but no thanks, I'd rather get a set of newer armor instead. Or avoid a selling my organs."
Her smile disappeared as she waved me away. I re-mounted the bike once again and set off for the longer ride towards Guria's Wares, hoping for better luck. Or just indulging my annoyance for letting someone steal something from me, especially a damn medical tech. A tingle at the back of my throat indicated a craving for a hit of the maxx I'd been using, and the recognition of that thought brought a stream with it as I drove idly.
Didn't even let me in, doubt they'd bother to lie anyways. I can always come back after checking everything else. Besides, no way you're pissing off either of them. Still though, one button to get rid of that itch before other symptoms occur. No, maybe I don't need it.
But you do. Blue marks on the wall as a tiny mandible slides down. An asari shuddering on the floor, blood where blood should not be. Her terrified eyes flick around the room, terrified of anyone who steps close. Everything left of Nylack, dead by your own cowardice to meet opposition. The Jackson Pollock painting your armor now resembles.
I thumbed the release and it ended. Still focusing on the road and thankful I'd not hit anything. I arrived at the last store, skidding to a stop on the bike and leaning it against the side of the building. No actual guards but a pair of LOKI mechs with taser-modified stinger pistols stood in the lot, baleful optics tracking me and ceasing when I moved through the door. I took a look around, upgrade kits in shelves that did everything from increase grain velocity to expensive eezo-interlink nodes to boost biotics in heavier armors. All of it looked scavenged, modified in some method with worn edges, hastily painted scratches and filed-off logos.
I checked the rack of omni-tools, taking my time to admire a high-grade Logic Arrest model and a few exotic tech-mine and tech-dart payloads. I hadn't seen any cryogenic models available on the Citadel or any prior colonies I'd stopped at. Might be a worthwhile purchase in any case, or just a license so my tool's omni-gel forge could make them. A glance at the price made me decide a trial purchase may be in order before a license, not particularly keen at giving up most of my savings for a new type of marginally useful ability. Neural shock tended to do the job.
A quick search of the dozens of omni-tools failed to reveal mine. I turned towards the counter and saw a near-identical salarian to the medical worker, stopping myself from starting an offensive right on the spot before the subtle differences became apparent. Same eyes, same facial structure and colour patterns but slightly different cranial horns, along with a scar on his neck and slightly more musculature.
Looks like a clan-brother. I may be on the right track.
Having grabbed a slightly better interior rail for my marksmen rifle as an excuse and possible purchase, I headed to the counter. The Salarian moved to make the purchase as I pulled out the chit, looking up when I held it back, crossing my arms as I spoke.
"Got any Polaris-IV tools? Friend of mine said you guys picked one up today."
The salarian blinked and looked at me more intently. "No human we do not have any Polaris-IV tools ready for sale. The one we recovered was damaged and not ready to be resold at this time."
Uncrossing my arms and looking around, no guards inside but the mechs were a deadly problem without any overloads. I leaned in slightly to press my point. "You sure about that, Teset?"
His eyes focused on something, eyelids coming up in a blink as his stance shifted to hostility, in-bent chest rippling as his hands rested on the SMG at his back. "What are you playing at human, questioning my business practice gets you nothing."
You can question, his pistol won't get through your shields before you draw yours, and he doesn't have an activated barrier or any armor. Probably not biotic as well.
I continued the interrogation attempt. "Our mutual acquaintance lifted my tool at the clinic today. I know it went here, and I want it back, I'll even pay a bit for these rail components-" I slammed the package down on the desk. "-but stop bullshitting me, give the omni back."
His posture didn't change. "You can have the tool human, but you better pay or the data on it goes to the local brokers. Some interesting combat footage on there, rare and interesting to fight a justicar and walk away, then some action on a slaver's facility with corsairs? You'll need to pay me a lot to get rid of that type of data."
I reeled back at the mention of the justicar, kicking myself mentally for forgetting about the recorded combat data. Such an idiot, taking the maxx had kept me focused but it also kept me complacent. For now I had to deal with the salarian, and I reached towards the little-used pistol on my hip before the salarian drew his SMG too quickly for me to match the moment I twitched.
Forgot about salarian reflexes there did you? Nice job justifying the focusing drug, memories or effectiveness Nikolai? Figure it out before one gets you killed.
My hand moved away from the pistol as I had another thought, leaning casually back with the Elkoss M-4 rip-off pointed at my chest. I swallowed the bile in my throat and rationalized that my shields would probably take the first burst to keep me intact. Probably not a good sign I was barely reacting to having a gun pointed at me, yet another reason to ditch the mind-calming drugs.
I pushed through the nerves and spoke. "May I use your com-terminal, work something out?"
He gave what my translator package suggested was a smile and nod before speaking. "Certainly human, I look forward to whatever price you end up agreeing to."
You're going to lose a paycheck for doing this, never mind whatever other actions you end up having to do to earn favor back. Smooth job, you should be ashamed thinking of this.
The salarian probably noticed my hesitation but assumed it was in his favor, he said nothing. I pressed the button and a krogan voice rolled out, grimace on my features as I hoped it didn't end poorly.
The com filled with the rumbling growl of Traesh Nakmor's displeased inquiry.
"Nikolai, I thought I sent to home, yet your credentials end up calling from a business comm. Care to explain yourself?"
"Look boss, sorry, we went to the clinic you have an arrangement with. One of the techs swiped my omni-tool and panned it off to his brother here at RTSH. They're being an asshole and threatening to upload my data in return for the tool or keep it themselves. Is this the message you want to send your employees about what happens when they get roughed up?"
A loud grunt before anything translatable came out. "Nikolai, you're one of my better bartenders so far, but I only hired you recently. I didn't really think you have much of a quad but I'll hear you out. Who took the tool?"
"A salarian named Gorot-II Uyrionn Sal Minest Got Teset Mannu, grabbed the omni when I had my gear off to get my ribs checked, I noticed when I left and went back but he either went out the back or had help from the receptionist."
The form on the projector was silent, I worried as I couldn't predict what the old reptilian manager would do. Luckily his next question wasn't directed at me, but at the salarian he'd rightfully assumed was within audio range.
Old bastard had figured out your plan. I might have made a mistake.
"So salarian, you have a deal with your brother to get wares for the outfitters shop. I wonder what would happen if I told his human boss what you were doing to my employees, a backroom impromptu organ donation perhaps? A tasty liver treat for one of my business partner's who would indulge in such a thing?" His voice grumbled on, oblivious to the way the salarian's expression fell. "Or you can give the tool and its data back to my employee and tell your brother fleecing my employees goes against the business deal his boss had. If my human-" I flinched at the phrasing. "-finds out you leaked anything then maybe one of my friends can visit you for a meal? Colony security has always been on good terms with my bar, I'm sure they'd ignore a little tadpole disappearing from the pond."
I glared at the salarian and smirked to disguise the apprehension at the mention of salarian liver while the krogan spoke. Mannu stayed silent for several seconds of rapid-fire pondering when Traesh finished, and I slowly tried to shift a hand to my pistol without notice.
Once the deliberation had passed he leaned into the scan range and spoke. "Alright krogan we have a deal. I'll give the human his tool back and won't copy the data over, a good deal yes? Especially if I speak to my brother about arrangements."
The large krogan grunted unamused. "You better."
I watched the salarian scurry away to the back before returning with my tool. He handed it over and showed me the logs to indicate it hadn't been copied, but I'd figured I'd have to trust the intimidation rather than falsifiable records.
I took the tool back and did a system check, noticing some access attempts and altered low-security settings. I engaged a factory reset without delay. I'd restore from my hardsuit backup once out of the store. Turning around to head out, I thought better and put the rail mod components on the counter and pulled out the credit chit. The salarian stared for a second before deactivating the UMS on the upgrade kit and handing it to me as he swiped the chit. A quick check of the balance and I headed out of the store, not bothering to look back at the salarian but still making sure to watch the security mechs as I mounted the bike and began the ride back to the shared apartment.
Halfway through I decided to switch the destination to work, deciding any unpleasantness with my boss should be settled before I showed up the next day. I stowed my helmet on its shoulder mount and simply enjoyed the air breezing past me and the electrical whine of the engine. I'd taken a moment to enjoy the simple pleasures and pay attention, more peripheral details coming back into play as I noticed more details on the buildings. I smirked when I passed a back entrance to a club with younger humans and turians hanging out, an asari probably five times their age pestering the obviously more adult turian bouncer to let them in. A pair of elcor made me turn my head in curiosity as I sped by, catching a whiff of something unplaceable for a moment before it passed.
I arrived back at Traesh's bar, a crowd already forming outside the bar that hindered my entrance. The evening patrons were starting to file in and get caught in line as the building filled and bouncers drip-fed to keep things calm after the dispute earlier, crew working to keep things calm after the issue earlier.
I paid the bike with my chit before letting its VI drive it away, then shuffled around the building to approach the side entrance rather than go through the front. A flash of the employee-ID from my omni-tool and the smaller door unlocked. I stepped inside and immediately felt the vibration of the base and motion of the evening crowd, dull thumps lingering unpleasantly in my wounded ribs on every beat. I brushed past the other bouncers who gave me confused looks as I made my way to Traesh's office, stopping at the door and offering a few knocks with trepidation.
The door opened and I found myself facing said two-hundred seventy kilograms of reptile, the zero-point-eight-six g's not doing much to reduce the weight said mass had or its intimidation factor. I stood at the threshold, trying not to fidget as both of his eyes focused on mine in turn before he backed into the room and gestured for me to follow.
Before he could speak I cut to the point. "How much does this cost me?"
He didn't blink, instead simply settling back and pouring himself some ryncol, the smell immediately making the pungent drink obvious as it filled the room. I shook my head when offered some and he let out a rumbling sound that may have been a sigh, turning to the side so only a single eye was looking at me.
"What makes you think you owe me anything human?" Another sip of the ryncol.
"Boss, I called you for what was essentially a favor, you saved me a lot of trouble getting the tool back." I replied.
He turned back so both eyes could focus on me. "Nikolai, you did well earlier. I sent you to the clinic and they violated my trust. You work for me and I protect my employees, doing otherwise is merely bad for business." A deep chuckle from his large body." Besides I was surprised you came to me, instead of Syella."
I heard footsteps behind me, turning around to find Syella's staring at me from the doorway. I tensed up unconsciously in anticipation before remembering the other occupant of the room and relaxing, a rare flush on my cheeks as I stared at my companion with uncertain terms.
"I called her after you called me, she didn't know you'd had your omni swiped and was worried you'd gone to do something stupid. In a way you did, shaking down issues with the outfitters. You called me to deal with and got the tool back, and I wonder exactly what made you spend so much time on it, what value it had." He turned to look at Syella before continuing. "So I talked to you asari, I'd never asked for history other then employment when both of you signed up and I didn't find anything. Instead you explain that the two of you fought your way to escape a slavers camp only for four get away, and two to die once you'd escaped. A rare occurrence and only possible because they didn't implant you on the spot. She said your tool probably had footage you considered sentimental, or grievance."
His eyes narrowed to focus on me, Syella shifting nervously and rubbing her crest as he gave her a brief glance.
"Perhaps it's something else, something more embarrassing or dangerous. Or perhaps not, instead I have two employees who came here together and have done well, having a dispute major enough to affect something this personal after they get wounded. You both do your jobs and I will protect you as employees, no. You owe me nothing except to do your jobs. Go home and rest, sort out whatever spat you had, for even a krogan or asari can find life too short for spite.
We walked out together, surprise kept us silent as we went down the stairs and left through the side exit. I could smell ash on the air, the only distinct scent in the miasma of assorted smoke coming from the crowds at the front, mixed with ammonia from a puddle of urine in the alley. We began to walk to the apartment in silence, Syella apparently content to leave me with my thoughts or too disappointed to speak.
"You were right." I surprised myself as I spoke, electing her to stop walking for a mere moment before she resumed at a faster pace to catch up. "I'll stop with the maxx, it won't work for a long-term solution and well, it's probably not the best idea as you said."
An audible breath before she turned her head, streetlights shining on her crest in the dark as we walked, shadows under her eyes hiding some of her markings. "Nikolai, sorry I broke your tooth."
I laughed it off, wincing as my tongue now swirled around the sharp edge that couldn't be left alone. Instead we suffered the rest of the walk in silence, a more content emptiness. The apartment arrived faster than I expected, and I took all too much pleasure in stripping off my armor to lounge on the couch. The scent of fried fish filled the air and indicated what her meal had been in my absence, and the small, gear-packed common area devoted too much of its space to our armor and weapon sets, the kitchen area and couch filling the rest. I heard the facet on the sink activate and looked up, vial of maxx now empty and poured down the drain. The action left only what was in my armor and made me a hundred credits poorer, I ignored the action and let it slide after my statement. I leaned back and drifted off tired from the day on the couch, briefly aware of a hand on my shoulder before it left just as quickly while I ebbed to sleep.
CODEX - Naval History Edition: CF-3 Modular Bulk Cruiser
One of the most important vessel designs in human history, the CF-series has roots going back to the initial batch of mass effect tech built from the designs in the Mars Archives. The design is one of the foremost reasons for human space expansion in their time frame, an efficient and cheaply produced craft built by the thousands in all its iterations.
The ship design has been used for numerous purposes, modular sections carrying stacked cryo pods responsible for the boom of colonial development after the Charon-Arcturus Relay was activated, with numerous surveyed worlds receiving several waves of colonists to set up multiple settlements using the materials carried by the ships.
Early military cruiser designs were based on the same hull, though they were considered easy pickings by the turians compared to purpose-built military cruisers during the Relay 314 Incident. The Systems Alliance donated several of the vessels for logistics support to the Citadel Defense fleet after receiving an embassy, a move that garnered mixed responses.
Most current uses of the vessel are less glamorous but just as important. Hundreds serve as Edfel-Ashland refineries and HE3 processing ships in an assortment of systems throughout Alliance, Council, or other space.