Of all the places most of the crew had to choose to congregate, it had to be a sports bar. The group that had gathered was watching some kind of game, I didn't know jack about it but it seemed similar to basketball and soccer but with no gravity, but thankfully the place was empty. Other than a couple in the back and the bartender, it was just to ourselves. Two of them went to get some supplies, and try to offload what the slavers left there that wasn't important. My focus was mostly on speaking with the suited fella instead of watching a sport I didn't even know the rules to.

"So, some di- turians released a virus into the air of the planet, causing these 'krogan' to become infertile?"

"Yes, from what I've learned about it only one out of a thousand young are viable, and there's supposedly giant mounds of corpses of the young. Add in their natural violent tendencies, and they are now a dying race."

"Jesus." It was the only response I could give to what I learned. Thought that the dinos, which I now know are called 'turians', are some cold-hearted bastards. It suddenly made me feel like a good person because I didn't doom an entire species to extinction. Don't get me wrong, humans did that to pretty much everything that wasn't a rat or cockroach, but we were at least not able to excise it on another full sentient species.

The suited fella I was speaking to, apparently, he's called a quarian, has become my history teacher, giving me the basics on the important things to know. Mostly that was giving me a brief history of the different species in space. The only problem for me was that I had agreed to talk about Earth in exchange. Should've seen them using it as a ploy for that, I suppose.

I gestured for the translator to ask his questions, though he started speaking to the turians. They were talking for a minute, most likely about what to ask. Meanwhile, I took a sip from my beer, it tasted like swill but it wasn't knocking me on my ass like that drink on the ship. Johnny was in the background, sitting on one of the tables and mostly toying with the people, well to the best of his abilities when you're… whatever he is.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally turned to me, eyes staring down at me. Even though they aren't hostile, I can't help but have my hand slightly twitch to Johnny's iron due to the hairs on my back rising. It feels like I'm in a board meeting, and that thought alone terrifies me.

"Well, you mentioned before how it was, in your words, a shithole. Could you be a bit more specific as to why?"

"Well, corporations ran everything. Giving orders to make people disappear just for a quick eddie was pretty common, and pushing everyone else to the brink of poverty made them ready to skin each other just to not starve to death. Lost track of the number of bodies I saw on the street, and couldn't keep track of how many more people simply ignored it."

"What about governments, surely they wouldn't just stand back and let it all happen."

"I stated the corpos controlled everything, didn't I? Some bigwigs in the government tried to play god but flew too close to the sun. By the time the government could've had a chance to regulate them again, it was all too easy accepting bribes from corpos. Most you get with justice is from vigilantes and gangs."

Or from solos that'll have your tech flatline you, but I doubt they want to hear talk about how I can make a man's brain fry from what's in their head. Johnny signaled for my attention, pointing at my crew. Their eyes were on the game, but it was apparent I was the main focus of attention. Those dinos were listening in, clever bastards. Their face paint helps distinguish them, but I'm mostly still thinking about how even after a thousand years, they still keep that tradition.

I'm still concerned about their loyalty, but these are small fries compared to the badges or the Citadel, which is apparently the name of the coalition government and the space station I found myself in. Hiding here could work, I just need to sell the ship and find a place that will take me in. The best bet is still with the ship though, staying on the move is extremely useful, the main problem would be figuring out the problems of how to keep the ship running and the few souls I've taken with me loyal.

As my eyes flutter towards the tv, sports aren't being watched anymore. Instead, there are what appear to be three figures standing on a futuristic podium. One of them is a blue lady, who I've been informed is called 'Asari' by the quarian. She and the frog person are wearing some fancy clothing that appears to be something similar to what a corpo would wear. The third is a turian that is dressed properly, but I can see the militaristic designs on it, how the form-fitting suit is definitely more similar to what a military officer would wear than your average politician.

The camera cuts to another Asari wearing the clothing that I saw most of the people traveling through the Citadel wearing, although something about her eyes stands out to me. The shell-shocked visage standing on it, how they're dilated, and precisely the amber hue that sits in them. She was the first person I saw in that cage, and right now she's talking to the entire world.

The turians' mandibles are moving, with everyone watching with interest. There's some sort of headline sprawling underneath the scene that I can't read, though I can tell that there is a crowd overlooking a balcony from the small space that isn't covered by it. Those on the podium seem to be asking questions, with the woman answering. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, hands moving as if trying to show an open space. The guards weren't lying, this council is after me.

"How much do they know?" I quietly ask my guide to this galaxy, eyes still focused on the screen when it cuts to two turians talking, situated similarly to how news reporters would be. A rough sketch of what appears to be my face shows up, though they only seem to have gotten the hair right.

"Only that you attacked a batarian ship and freed some slaves before taking off in it. The asari speaking is calling you a guardian angel, though she is talking about those that stayed aboard."

"Yeah, that kind of figures. Speaking of, why did you all stay aboard anyway? Everyone had the opportunity to leave but seven people stayed aboard."

"I can't really speak about everyone else, but it's quite simple for me. I'm on my pilgrimage to help out the Migrant Fleet. We need to bring back something of value and considering the tech you're packing on your body, there's bound to be something I can learn to help my people out in the long run. Besides, I do owe you big and I'd rather not leave something like this unpaid."

"Wasn't the answer I was expecting, but thanks um… I just realized I never learned any of your names."

"It's Yitor. Yitor'Shulas nar Leebra. Don't worry about it either, I'm just happy to not be called 'Suit-Rat' or treated as a lesser. Much as I'd like to say "

So discrimination is not just a human thing. I am not too surprised, considering the fact I took over a spaceship owned by slavers, but I still expected better from people who can travel across the galaxy. I don't know much about Yitor or his people, but ingratiating myself with them could get me some needed friends if everyone wants a piece of me. That is if I could make sure they won't use me, and I doubt I can go anywhere without some gonks trying to force me down.

"How exactly does this 'Fleet' function, exactly?"

"Well, we're as self-sufficient as we can be, growing food in our ships and harvesting asteroids for minerals. But we still need to trade for some materials, which is complicated by most people wanting nothing to do with us. We usually take 'gifts' from the planets in those systems in order to leave, though the pilgrimage is one our main ways of still obtaining what we need from the outside galaxy."

"You did mention you're on a pilgrimage before, is that a right of passage?"

"Yes, when a quarian comes of age they are expected to leave their birth ship and find something of value for the fleet such as a starship, fuel for the flotilla, or even technology that can help out life in space. Which was actually what I wanted to talk to you about. The language software to communicate with you would be enough to earn me a spot in a good ship if I want, but I know you're not exactly not on the right side of the law, and I think I might have an idea."

"I'm listening, Yitor."

"I've seen the tech you have on you, and add in the fact that you could bring a ship and serve as a first contact, you might be able to join up with the fleet as a captain and ambassador due to all of this, albeit with a bit of trepidation. The council might try and get us to leave their worlds as fast as possible, but even they won't try to pick a fight with us. Besides, a lot of people would be more than willing to join up if it means even a bit more legroom."

"You sure this will work, though? I'm not exactly looking forward to ending up on a dissection table or forced to play the part of an entertainment monkey."

"You honestly think anyone would be dumb enough to tangle with someone that shot up a ship of slavers and freed the people inside. I can personally vouch for you, and a non-quarian sticking up for us is a rarity, and one that is usually welcomed with open arms. Besides, even if someone did try and do that, it would spell the end to anything diplomatic we could do. If the admiralty or conclave were willing to order the death of someone who put their trust in us, any support we have out there would immediately evaporate."

I was truly taken aback by his idea. I planned on simply trying to appear as a refugee in need of help, not a captain wishing to join. It's certainly an idea, I'll give him that. Pretend to be an ambassador and use my knowledge to give occasional bits of knowledge that they might wish to know in exchange for safety. I turn towards the others for their thoughts, though most are continuing their charade of not listening in, one of them is entering the damn bathroom. Johnny, however, sat next to him with his legs firmly underneath the table, a sigh emanating from his breath before he spoke.

"Listen to this idiot, does he even know what he's talking about? Once the head assholes find out where you are, they will figure out a way to drag you back to them, even without military might. This 'citadel' could convince them to give you up by offering a few concessions or even just diplomatic pressure. You'd be paraded in chains faster than I could say that I told you so."

'You got a better idea?'

"Yeah, take some job that takes you to a colony in the middle of nowhere, then another, and another. A few months ago I would've told you to just throw a hail mary and take as many badges with you as you could, but right now you have a chance to live a peaceful life. Think about it V, how many solos get to hang up their hat and retire? You have a chance, and here's your opportunity to fucking take it."

'Johnny-'

"You've already made yourself known to the whole damn world back home, and it cost you your life. You're my friend, probably the only one I have left. Please, don't waste it on trying to entertain a bunch of three-fingered nomads."

Johnny is seriously giving me the creeps, and Yitor's feeling like a used car salesman. I don't know what to do, I need a smoke right now. I calmly excuse myself and stand outside, fumbling with a cigarette before lighting it and immediately taking a drag off of the small stick of heaven. The smell of trees and grass is nice, but overshadowed by that of freshly lit syn-nic. Calm, V, calm. Just try and think of something calm and think rationally.

I spent only a few minutes outside, but it felt like an eternity. I took a deep breath, smothered the but of my cigarette, and stepped back in. The whole crew in the diner was looking at me, including Johnny. I sat back into my chair, looking at them both. I know I have to make a choice, but that didn't make it any easier. I opened my mouth and spoke my answer, one that I know will be shaping my future.

The turian glanced around nervously as she sat in the bathroom. It wasn't the most secure place to communicate, but it would have to do. Pulling up her omni-tool, she quietly tapped it as she awaited her call to be answered. Appearing on the screen was another of her kind, blue face paint covering his face and scars from conflict showing on it.

"Report."

"From what I've gathered from the other crew, 'Vincent' is someone from 'Earth', which he referred to derisively. He can survive drinking a full bottle of ryncol, has a killcount that he is not proud of, and is heavily augmented by cybernetics. From my own perspective, he tends to listlessly look away from others sometimes and his eyesight does occasionally break from others and to empty space. Also, I have seen him lose his temper quickly, which could prove dangerous if he is approached incorrectly."

"Remember, any info you can give us is extremely valuable to the person of interest. Your instructions remain the same. Continue to monitor him and feed us information about wherever he might go. We have been given an opportunity by his actions, let's not waste it, agent."

"Yes sir, Seculia out."

A breath the turian did not know was holding was let out when the captain disappeared from the view of the call. A simple operation to bust a slaver ring has turned into an ad-hoc observation of the galaxy theorizing for weeks about what it could possibly mean. The man did not appear bothered by her presence, in fact he seemed to appreciate having an extra set of eyes while on Omega. The way he seemed interested in anything he could see also made her find it slightly endearing, thoughts of her niece seeing the Citadel for the first time flooded her mind, and she found herself wishing once again that she was a drell if only to relive memories like that over and over again.

The bathroom door opened as she stepped out seeing the man through a window while he appeared to be smoking another cigarette outside, which he always seems to have one ready at all times.'This is not a child, Seculia.' the agent chastised herself in her mind. She had seen the aftermath of the batarian's corpses when she exited her cell, or how he went from appearing and in control to nearly ready to rip off the head of a random asari he used as a translator. An unpredictable force of nature was not what she signed up to monitor, but a good turian kept their head down and followed orders.

For now, the only thing she could hope to do is continue to monitor the self-proclaimed human and make sure that he will stay alive long enough to hopefully see reason and turn himself into the Citadel. If not, well, there's always phase two.

(A/N) Do I have excuses for not updating for a year? Yes. Will I use them? No.

Also, will be putting a vote on my account about what choice V should make. Couldn't decide myself what he should do, so I'll leave it up to all of you. Least y'all got more braincells than I do.