The Xeggasaurus of the Space Age

Taking centre stage in the Omega system was the appropriately named 'Omega' station, a glowing-red metropolis teeming with equal parts impulse-inhibition and criminal activity. In the entirety of the Sahrabarik system, no other planet or station came close when it came to nightlife and vice—Omega was the most frequented station despite it being populated with murderers, mercenaries, and mobsters more so than actual regular folk.

Indulgence in carnal pleasure aside, tucked away in Omega's marketing district was a quaint, if not completely rundown, café. Held together by a lot of welding and sheer willpower was a metal-tech hybrid mess called "Star Enterpies": the only vorcha-owned commercial business that hadn't met its end on the station through some sort of violent blowout—although some argued it was only a matter of time.

Star Enterpies was not very successful, mind you, having to compete with the new age's Starbucks (which had long since ditched the naked mermaid for an asari's head instead, and shouldn't be confused with its other competitor "Earthbucks" (which uses the mermaid bust; no doubt, the lawsuit was very intense)), but it got by well enough for what it was. This was especially so considering its unique management style.

To those familiar with the species, it was strange to see a vorchan proprietor, let alone a vorchan pie-café owner. Maybe if the store sold guns and knives it would be possible, but certainly not baked goods.

The vorcha certainly weren't known to be very good with money, manners, or cooking. Thankfully, Star Enterpies managed to hit two of these major requirements. On the first, the shop owed its existence to an enigmatic figure known only in the culinary and investment world as the 'Shadowbaker'. With deep pockets and an even deeper appetite, the Shadowbaker sent a mysterious start-up injection to a certain vorcha on Omega, after learning of the latter's passion for baking, in exchange for a regular supply of new pie flavours. Once 'touched' by the Shadowbaker, every 'F&B' store has managed to survive even the worst financial crises.

Star Enterpies was no different.

"You no pay?"

A hiss came from an open window (or just a random hole) in Star Enterpies. Vorchan baker-founder by the name Xegg was getting upset with a customer.

Well beyond the prime years of most vorcha—who didn't live very long to begin with—Xegg was a relatively nicer member of his race. He still bore the signature red eyes and sharp yellow fangs of the species, with three signature black stripes running from his mouth to jaw. He wasn't particularly smart or good at fighting, with skinny arms, legs, and knobbier knees than typical, but what he lacked in brains and brawn he made up for with overenthusiastic optimism.

Xegg ran Star Enterpies together with his identical twin brother Segg (pronounced 'sig'). Segg was the smarter, more dramatic one, and had the telling savage nihilism of most vorcha. When Xegg wanted to learn how to make balloon animals (a mission that was doomed from the start, given his teeth and claws), Segg learned how to play the bass guitar. When Xegg wanted to learn ballet, Segg dyed his fringe blue and painted his nails black. The two looked the same but it was always easy to tell them apart. You just had to look for one jumping, hysterical vorcha, and one brooding, skulking vorcha wearing a pair of dirty sunglasses-goggles that clearly didn't belong to him.

Despite their differences in character, Xegg and Segg were peas in a pod, sticking by each other's side since birth and dividing responsibilities according to their strengths. For the shop, Segg valiantly took on the role of "head accountant slash delivery driver", while Xegg was the "head baker slash head of sales slash head assistant manager".

Emphasis again on unique management style….

Xegg wasn't a very good cook a few years ago, but everything changed when he and his brother were thrown into prison for a short stint—Segg for Blood Pack activity and Xegg for insider trading. In prison, Xegg was assigned cafeteria duty, and picked up his culinary skills under the stern, but paternal eye of Gorndon Galaxsay.

Some said he was a distant relative of a famous human chef many decades ago, but the rumours were never confirmed. Gorndon taught Xegg delicacies from his hometown on Earth—most notably the 'pie': a baked dish with a flaky crust, filled with fruit, meat, or vegetables. Xegg didn't much care for meat or veggies. Sweet pies were his specialty (or the only thing he could cook and serve safely).

But anyway, back to grand larceny.

"No pay, no pie!" Xegg shouted, slamming a gnarly claw onto the counter. "Or I turn you into pie!"

This was shaping up to be a typical Tuesday afternoon for Star Enterpies. It always started with a small misunderstanding, that turned into a commotion, that more often than not turned into violence.

In this case, Xegg was jabbing his claw into a particularly unapologetic hanar. Wobbling back and forth in front of the kiosk, the hanar glowed haughtily. "This one has a 'buy-one-get-one-free voucher'," it said, a translucent tentacle brandishing a scrap of paper with scrawled handwriting.

"No voucher, only vorcha here!" This interjection came from Segg, who was already dreading having to explain this so-called voucher in the books.

The hanar was not impressed and did not bother to correct him. "This one is leaving. The pies here are filthy anyway."

This insulting comment was too much for the head baker/salesman/assistant manager. Xegg bared his teeth and hurled himself at the customer.

Colliding with the hanar's bulbous form, they went flying out the 'window' and into a garbage-strewn street. Unfortunately, this just so happened to be the same time that Captain Preitor Gavorn was busy patrolling the area, although to be quite honest it was getting difficult to avoid him at any time of the day.

For some reason, the handsome, if somewhat awkward turian, had been seen around this area—specifically the pie shop—more frequently. Something about increased patrols for allegedly rising vorcha population numbers, although there was only Xegg and Segg around this part of the district, and plenty of other vorcha 'infested' districts throughout Omega.

Captain Gavorn shook his head knowingly when he saw Xegg and the hanar rolling in the dirt. Just once he would have liked to see Xegg and Segg running their pie store graciously.

"You have got to stop doing this to all your customers," said Gavorn. He was glaring angrily at Xegg… a glare that lingered just a little too long. All these patrols were not doing his heart any favours.

To Gavorn's disappointment, Xegg didn't seem to notice or bother to reply. He was busy trying to stick one of the hanar's arms into a turbine and use a flamethrower to torch another.

"This one would like to keep its arms…!" the hanar cried, pulling away frantically. "This one only desired free pie! Please!"

"You try to steal… to cheat me! I'll kill you!" Xegg snarled.

"STOP!"

Segg was running out of the shop to stop his brother, frilly apron flapping. "Captain Gavorn is here! He will yell at us for hours! Turians talk too much!"

Saying that made Xegg come to his senses. Listening to another lecture? Or worse? Straightening up and unhanding the poor hanar, Xegg tried his best to look innocent, which proved difficult to do while hiding a hefty flamethrower.

Luckily, Captain Gavorn was caught off-guard by Segg's outburst.

"I-I'm only patrolling around here because I have to," he said hastily, mandibles twitching with embarrassment. "For the record, I'm only eating your pies to make sure you haven't filled it with poison!"

He wasn't a great liar, but saying nothing then would have been worse for his dignity. But Gavorn's embarrassment was about to hit a whole new level.

Just then, the turian's stomach growled, loudly enough for the entire street to hear.

Xegg and Segg were very pleased, scenting an opportunity to avoid sitting through another sermon. The brothers acted quickly.

"Gavorn hungry. We'll bring you cherry pie. Your favourite!"

A mix of genuine goodwill and excitement from getting away with attempted murder, Xegg ducked back into Star Enterpies, while Segg shooed the hanar away and dumped the flamethrower—the evidence?—into a nearby trash can. A few moments later, Xegg emerged, chest puffed out, with a blood red cherry pie in one hand and utensils in the other.

This was their favourite way of dealing with Captain Gavorn: feed him a dextro-amino cherry pie to shut or cheer him up.

What the brothers didn't know was that Gavorn was particularly partial towards Xegg's cooking.

He still remembers my favourite pie flavour? And baked one especially for me…?

Gavorn quickly swallowed all protests and put down his rifle. "I guess I can pretend I didn't see anything today," he said, picking up a fork to tuck in.

But before he could even take a single bite, the sugary moment was interrupted by more Tuesday shenanigans. A strange sound, the mix of a vacuum and a sink being drained (known affectionately by some as a 'wub-wub' sound), came swooping in from behind the group. Suddenly, the pie was floating out of Gavorn's talons into the air. Raucous laughter from behind told them that they were not alone.

Approaching them was a group of well-armed krogan with thick, red armour plates and heavy shotguns (per their catchphrase: "Try a real man's weapon!"). Anyone on Omega would instantly recognise them as members of the Blood Pack mercenary group, who were infamous for their jock-like mannerisms and disturbing appreciation for gore-heavy violence. Leading the group was a particularly well-padded krogan battlemaster named Brogan, known only too well by Xegg and Segg, who had their fair share of swirlies from this brute during their time in the Blood Pack themselves.

It was all Segg's idea in the beginning to make a name for themselves and earn some cash working as mercenaries. Unfortunately, they had the displeasure of joining Brogan's squad, and the krogan made no effort to hide the fact that the brothers were going to be used as cannon fodder. To make things worse, when they weren't being thrown into the line of fire, Xegg and Segg were errand boys: fetching Brogan snacks and drinks (Baumkuchen was his favourite), doing his laundry, buying wart cream, and so on.

After several years of this type of life, both vorcha eventually left the Blood Pack. Well, to be accurate, Xegg said, "No! Xegg not work for you anymore! Rarrrrgh!" while Segg got arrested and sent to an off-world institution.

The Blood Pack took to Xegg's resignation pretty well, but Segg was never really given a severance package. Segg had assumed that his absence from the Blood Pack during his prison term meant he would be free after being released. He was therefore quite unpleasantly surprised when the Blood Pack managed to find him on Omega running Star Enterpies and Brogan demanded that he continue his duties.

But this was par for the course anyway. Ironically, it wasn't Xegg that suffered the most during their Blood Pack days. Being cursed with higher-than-subpar-intelligence made Segg aware of the bullshit that their species faced in the mercenary group, and often rallied other vorcha about the injustice. Sure, their biology—namely their regenerative abilities—meant that they were more resilient in a fight: they were able to sustain cuts, gunshots, poison, fire and walk it off within a week or less. Heck, losing a limb wouldn't stop them. But that didn't mean they had to like being treated that way.

Several vorcha followed Segg's footsteps and became lazier, more stubborn Blood Pack members. Cannon fodder didn't work well if they took naps and played kickball instead of running into enemy bases. This upset the Blood Pack greatly. It also didn't help that Segg liked to strut around in his sunglasses, pretending he was some hotshot, when his kill-count was honestly pretty low for a Blood Pack.

As a result, Brogan developed a particularly strong dislike for Segg, and to this day, actively sought him—and Xegg by extension—out to bully him.

Today was no different. Brogan, with an unmistakable white-blue glow enveloping his body, was using his biotic abilities to play with Gavorn's pie. This was the ability for certain aliens to manipulate mass effect fields to affect gravitational forces, allowing them to move themselves or other objects at will. In battle, biotics could even be used to cause significant damage to one's enemies, with some moves involving the ripping and tearing of flesh and bone by creating rapidly shifting mass effect fields.

Only the asari could use biotics naturally. All other species either developed abilities after being exposed to element zero—or eezo for short—although this was rare in itself. Exposure cases usually meant death from physical abnormalities or resulted in nothing. For these other species, biotics had to be amplified to be usable, while the user undergoes years of strenuous training.

Brogan was a master of biotics on top of being a total jerkwad. With immaculate control, he was now dangling the pie above the two vorcha brothers, pulling it just out of their grasp when they tried to jump for it.

"Give! Pie! Back!" Xegg yelled between jumps. "Not for stupid Brogan! You no pay!"

"Yeah, okay," Brogan grinned. Swinging a warty hand downwards, he slammed the cherry pie right onto Segg's head. A scarlet, jammy mess exploded. The vorcha squealed in surprise, struggling to wipe cherry entrails off his sunglasses-goggles.

This set off the krogans who turned purple with laughter, clutching each other for support.

"Pathetic worms!" Brogan bellowed, pointing menacingly. "Selling pies again, huh? You stupid vorcha still don't know your place on Omega. Get out of the way!"

With several hard shoves, the Blood Pack mercenaries pushed their way through Xegg, Segg, and Gavorn, with complimentary stomps on the already crushed cherry pie.

Xegg felt his blood pressure rising. The disrespect to his brother, and worse, to his pies, made him want to draw blood. But a firm claw clamping down on his shoulder stopped him.

"No fight," Segg said, shaking his head firmly, finally removing his sunglasses to show his sincerity. "You'll make trouble for store. Gavorn here too!"

"But!"

"No buts! We are vorcha."

Segg himself seemed to be seething with rage. His claw was digging uncomfortably into Xegg's shoulder. But his bloodlust was already subsiding. A few years ago, when Segg was still in the Blood Pack things might have turned out differently. Now, his eyes had clouded over with exhaustion. He had been downed too many times to stay angry.

"Vorcha… vorcha lives short. Vorcha lives hard. Brogan hate us. Everyone hate us. We can't change that."

A tense air fell over the group. There was a reason why the vorcha primarily lived in small pockets of their own species in hideaways and corners of space stations and planets. It was difficult for them to co-exist with other alien races. Sure, part of it was their aggressiveness and short tempers.

But at the same time, contempt for their race was now socially acceptable and without exception. A vorcha didn't have to do anything to be hated by association.

It wasn't fair, but there wasn't going to be anyone fighting for them anyway. What Segg said was true. Any more out of them, and it would turn into a bloodbath that they wouldn't win. Or worse—Gavorn would have grounds to lecture them again.

At that moment, Gavorn cleared his throat.

"Any chance I could get another slice of the pie then?"

Xegg gave him a good of a smile as any vorcha could. "You pay for new pie?"

Gavorn shrugged, smiling back. "Sure, I guess I can do that."

"You pay for pie on floor?" Segg suggested sweetly.

"No."

"Ergh… I don't like you!" Segg marched moodily into the Star Enterpies, with Xegg and Gavorn following him shortly.

All things considered, it was not a typical Tuesday afternoon on Omega as the three sat in a neon-lit café bickering over a freshly baked pie, an unexpected minimal level of bloodshed by the end of the day.

For the time being, Star Enterpies was quiet.

The year was 2186, just days away from a threat that would change the fate of the galaxy forever.

And Xegg was about to be right in the middle of it all.