In the brief time that they'd been living in the apartment, Crimson couldn't remember it being so silent. It seemed that even the machinery that made up their bodies was quiet. The news was... difficult to take in. Gipsy... could be a cripple for the rest of her life, however long that might be.
Crimson had explained it as best he could. They were just too advanced, their internal mechanisms too specialized and too strong to find any replacements. There was no one that made the parts she needed, and even if they did it would be near impossible for them to get their hands on it.
There was a long, empty silence following his words. Striker and Cherno sat on the broken couch, visors dark in the gloomy atmosphere.
Before long, Cherno raised his massive head and let out a mournful, questioning keen.
"I don't know," Crimson replied miserably, pacing up and down in front of the HS. "We could leave it on, but then what good is an arm attached to you if you can't use it."
He stopped and shook his head sadly. "I think it's best if I just amputate it before she wakes up."
At his words Cherno wailed, alarmed and Striker stiffened, visor glowing angrily. "What bloody good is that gonna do?!" he shouted.
"It will save her agony," Crimson replied tightly. "If we leave it attached there is no guaranty that I'll be able to sever all the nerves in the joint. Our neural circuitry is just to advanced to let something like this slide."
After a moments pause Cherno let out a confused warble.
"Oh for the love of..." Crimson groaned. "Alright. You know how our pilots drifted with us?"
Cherno nodded.
"Not only did they merge their minds to move us but also their bodies. You remember the drivesuits they wore? The under layer, the circuitry suit, connects directly to their nervous system which reads the electrical impulses their body creates. That is what they used to pilot us, but it also worked both ways. We have, what is basically an artificial nervous system running through our bodies that was connected to our pilots so they could feel everything we could. Pain included." He gave a deep sigh.
"When Gipsy was shot it went clean through the joint and ricocheted off the inside of her armor, causing even more damage. That includes shredding the nerve bundles that run through it to her arm. They're still mostly intact but that's not much better. When she tries to move something they rub against each other and it sends impulses that her processors identify as pain. Lots of it."
"And how is cutting off her arm going to help?" Striker growled.
"It will sever all the nerves bundles so I can seal them off, keep them from picking up any signals. It's not perfect, but it'll keep her from going mad with agony."
"So we're just gonna cut off her arm and leave it at that?!" Striker shouted. "Whats she gonna think, huh? How do you think she's gonna handle this without-"
"THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!" Crimson almost screamed, his frustration breaking forth and making the two shrink back into the couch.
"I'm doing the best I can here!" he continued, a twinge of hopelessness creeping into his voice. "I can't fix her, I admit it, but what do you want me to do?! I can't just leave her like that! She could barely stand when we got here, I had to drag her in and you're asking me to leave her like that?"
There was silence.
"Look," Crimson said in a soft, defeated tone. "I don't want to do this either, but what else are we going to do? If we could find some way fix her, trust me I'd jump at the chance but... I can't. If we leave it on... she could get worse."
Cherno groaned, lifting his head to look Crimson in the eye.
The crimson Jaeger sighed. "Well... if we leave it on she could go mad over time. We're machines, and however advanced we might be, we don't heal on our own. And the pain, so far as I can tell, just won't stop. If it goes on long enough she might decide that... that this new life just... isn't worth living anymore."
"And she might... ya' know?" Striker spoke up quietly, making a pistol with his hand and pointing it at his head.
"It's possible," Crimson nodded. "I'd like to think she wouldn't but... remembering some of the things the Wei's knew it's... a very likely possibility."
"And how is losing her arm any better?" Striker said, showing a surprising amount of sympathy for their Mark III companion. "If she loses that what's keeping her from thinking she's useless, huh?"
Cherno rumbled deep in his frame as he twisted to look at the Australian.
"Really? Because last time she lost an arm they threw her in Oblivion Bay."
"She lost one of her pilots too," Crimson pointed out.
"That wouldn't have stopped them from finding new ones and fixing her. But nope! Lose an arm, you're no good to us anymore. Out with the trash! What's stopping her from think that?
"Do you have any better idea's then?!" Crimson shouted, his frustration breaking loose again.
The Mark V glared, fist's clenched and vents heaving, but nothing was forthcoming.
"Alright," Crimson said, sounding more miserable then ever. "I... am going to get ready. If you can think of anything, anything, before I start... you're welcome to share it."
With that, he started dragging his feet towards the bedroom, dreading the coming operation with every step. On the couch, Striker and Cherno sat staring at the floor miserably. Then Cherno glanced at Striker and let out a low warble.
"Yeah, I care," Striker snapped. "You got a problem with that?"
The giant rumbled again.
"Not like that, idiot, don't get any fucking ideas."
Before Cherno could reply the bedroom door opened. There was a moment of silence before Crimson let out an audio shattering "WHAT!"
The two were off the couch before they knew it and gathered behind the three armed Jaeger standing frozen in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. As the lights snapped on Cherno let out a loud belching gasp.
The bed was empty. Gipsy Danger was gone.
-Linebreak-
She hadn't dared to online her visor, not since the thing had spoken to her.
She didn't know how long had passed since she'd come here. How did she get here in the first place?... Where was here anyway?
As sluggish mind mulled over these questions she felt a cold something dance over the dented plating on her chest. It traced the roundish hole left from when the Krogan shot her and then the whispers came back.
But now it was quite normal. They would probe over her body, lingering over her dents and scrapes and whisper to each other. And wherever they touched a strange tingling would follow. She didn't know what it was, but it terrified her none the less. The mere thought of being helpless, unable to fight these things filled her core with fear. If she could move she would have rather gone down swinging then let these things have their way with her. These...
She hesitated, unwilling to accept what they could be. She'd had suspicions ever since she saw them, a terrifying idea of their identity.
Precursors.
Creatures of the Kaiju. Invaders of earth. The puppeteers pulling the strings. She'd seen them once before, in the brief seconds before she died. Only once, and it was enough to ingrain the image in her mind forever.
She whimpered again, willing them to go away. To go away and never bother her again: But fate was never that kind.
Another cold appendage probed in her wounded armpit, sending shivers down her spine. The wound had stopped tingling a while ago and she couldn't bare to think about what they'd done to it... or what they were doing to her.
Then, in the midst of the whispers another deep growl broke through, silencing them all. She waited, quiet and fearful. For some reason the thought of being captured by their creators was far more terrifying then being killed by Kaiju. What were they going to do to her... or what had they already done?
The tight grip around her shoulders returned and she felt herself being pulled forward before the voice whispered in her audio again.
"Gipsy Danger," it said, "I know you can hear me."
She whimpered in response, trying to twist away but her body was as frozen as ever.
"You found a way out... somehow you escaped."
Her breath hitched in her vents as the grip on her shoulders tightened. Escaped from what?... From them?
"We waited," it continued, "for a sign, anything to say that you were still alive. The four of you were taken so fast we never even got to say good bye. But now, here you are, back with us once again."
Dread clenched her core. The four of them?... How did they know about the others? Unless...
Suddenly she felt a slight tugging sensation, like the gentle pull of current in a stream. The voice seemed to felt it as well, the grip becoming more forced like it was trying to hold her in place, to keep her from drifting away, shaking her as it did so.
"Stop ignoring us!" the voice growled and she felt something grab the top of her head and twist her visor towards the creature, but it couldn't make her online it. "You four are the only ones who escaped! You can open the Breach! You can let us out!"
It shook her again in anger. "You can't abandon us, Gipsy Danger! Not after all we did! Do you think the outside is for you alone!"
The pull was growing stronger, the thing tightening it's grip as she was pulled away.
"You have to help us!" the voice shouted, fading away as it's grip loosened and she was send flying back, the current pulling her like a rushing river.
"You owe it to us!"
Then a burning sensation like she passed through a ring of fire, tumbling head over heels, unable to control her falling before...
Her visor snapped online and she sat up in a panic.
She was back in the bedroom. The the rusting walls, the dirty sheets, the less then fluffy pillow, it was all here. Was it all... a dream?
She reached up with both hands and ran them down the smooth metal and glass of her head, an oddly soothing motion as the memories came back. The mist, the things... the voice. It was all a dream... all just a dream.
Nodding to herself, she lowered her hands and looked down. She froze, terror gripping her as she saw a small trail of the blue vapor float up from her foot before dissipating into empty air.
Her swords were out and at the ready before she think and she sat there, head whipping from side to side as she wait for one of those things to jump her.
A minute passed, but nothing happen.
Hesitantly, she sheathed her blades and made to get up when to dawned on her: Her arm didn't hurt any more.
Still rather cautious, remembering the agony from before, she stood and slowly lifted the limb over her head, stretching the mechanisms to their limits. She felt nothing.
Elated, she drew her sword again and swung it through the air. It was a smooth motion, effortless and powerful. Hell, it felt like her arm was brand new. Not even the repairs and overhauls Mako had done on her could compare to what she felt now.
Giving out a quiet "hiya!" she lunged, stabbing into an invisible enemy and heard a loud crunch as her foot landed on something. She looked down and winced. There, by her feet, was a pile of neatly organized tools. Well, was a pile. They were scattered over the floor now and something that looked like a welder was doing a very good chunky pancake impression. She hoped that Crimson wouldn't be too upset over it's destruction.
Come to think of it, he did a very good job fixing her. She downright refused to think that those thing the dream had anything to do with it. And asking for her help? Those thing must have been crazy, along with being creepy as hell... if they were even real and not just a figment of her imagination.
Casting those thoughts from her mind and giving her arms one final stretch, she headed for the door. Before she could lay a hand on the switch however, it opened, revealing the three armed form of Crimson Typhoon. His glowing eye instantly locked onto her and brightened in shock.
"W-what?" the weak, confused word slipped past his speakers as he blinked over and over again.
"Hi," she replied cheerfully, giving a small wave.
"B-but," the Jaeger stammered. "Y-you were there... and then..."
Whatever he said next was lost in a rumble like that of a stampede of wild buffalo, followed by a loud grunt from Crimson as he was shoved out of the way before Gipsy found herself being crushed by two green arms wrapped around her middle in a Russian bear hug.
"Hey... Cherno," she gasped out around the crushing grip of the Mark I. "Can't... breath..."
"Ya' don't need to breath, idiot!" came Striker's familiar voice from behind the green giant.
Still, Cherno got the message and released her, warbling worriedly as her vents sucked in air like a whale.
"What?" Crimson repeated as he lay on the floor, the results of Cherno's shove, and stared up at Gipsy with a look of utter bewilderment. "...What?"
She returned his stare. "What's what?" she asked.
"What?"
She blinked. "Uh, what? Is there something on my face?"
"What?"
It was then she noticed the rather glazed look in his eye and the way his head twitched from side to side.
"Um." She glanced at Cherno, pointing at the downed Jaeger. "Is he alright?"
"What?" Crimson repeated, furthering her concern.
Cherno shrugged as Striker strolled around the Russian's bulk and approached Crimson from behind.
"Uh, Striker, what are you doing?" Gipsy asked as she saw him raise his fist over the one eyed cranium.
"PTR," Striker replied casually as he prepared to bring it down.
"What?" Crimson droned on, oblivious.
Cherno rumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the Australian.
"Well it worked last time, and don't give me that look, you know it did!" And before they could stop him, brought his fist down with a resounding clang onto the top of Crimson's head. The hydraulics supporting Crimson's head compressed inward, absorbing the blow and his arms instantly reached up to massage the dented metal.
"Ow," the strangled gasped left his speakers. Then he shook his head and rose to his feet.
"See," Striker grinned, "he's looking better already."
A hand lashed out and slapped him across the visor sending him reeling back and letting out a stream of curses.
"What'd you do that for?!" he shouted, round on Crimson.
"You know what," the red Jaeger growled, rubbing his head. "Now, do you think we can stop being idiots and figure out..." His eye landed on Gipsy again and he froze.
"Again?" Striker asked gleefully raising his fist.
Cherno growled deep in his frame and Striker lowered it with a grumble. Meanwhile Crimson was still staring, eye bright as he gaped at her.
"Uh, Crimson?" Gipsy asked, shifting on her feet. "Are... you okay?"
"Um." He blinked and shook his head, like a dog drying itself. "Yes, but..." He stopped, noticing that she was using her arm without trouble.
"B-but... how?" He stepped forward, gently taking her arm and lifting it, exposing her joint and examined it with a careful eye. After twisting it every which way to make sure nothing was snapped he let go, taking a careful step back.
"I-I don't understand," he stammered. "I didn't... how did you..."
He looked her square in the visor, eye filled with bewilderment and, strangely enough, relief. "When... how did you fix yourself?"
"Me?" she replied, pushing the black shapeless forms out of her mind. "I didn't do a thing. You, on the other hand..." She flexed her arm. "...did awesome. It feels better then new!"
The three males glanced at each other and Gipsy got the feeling there was something they weren't telling her.
"But," Crimson said slowly, looking back to her. "I... didn't do anything."
"What? Sure you did," she insisted, apprehension trickling in as she pointed at her shoulder. "I mean, how else would this happen? You really don't give yourself enough credit because..."
"Gipsy," Crimson interrupted, reaching out and grasping her arms. She shivered involuntarily at his touch. It was too much like the thing in her dream. "I... I couldn't do anything."
She paused, a familiar fear growing inside her. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"You disappeared," he said. "I had left the room to talk to the others and when I came back you weren't there. Gone. Poof. Dropped off the face of the earth." He thought about it a moment. "Or the galaxy, but that doesn't matter. Point is, you vanished."
She stiffened on hearing his words. "Vanished? W-what do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said, Gipsy. You disappeared. We didn't know where you were and... some of us..." he looked at Cherno who warbled sadly. "...we... thought you might have... died."
"Died?" she repeated, the pit in her core tunnelling down to the bottom of Omega.
"In our defence we still don't know anything about us, why we're like this and we thought... we thought that..." He shook his head. "But you didn't, thank goodness, but... we couldn't find you. For two hours you were missing. Two full hours after we brought you in you were gone!"
She stared at him, unwilling to believe him as the things from before slithered into her mind, their words echoing around her: "You owe it to us."
"B-but," she stammered, fighting to keep her fear from showing as she gestured to her arm. "How did this happen?"
"I don't know," he replied." Are you sure you didn't do it yourself?"
"No," she said, voice just a little higher out of the growing panic inside her.
"Ah lay off her," Striker said, appearing in between them and pushing Crimson away. "She's here now, she fine and she didn't have to lose anything."
"Can we not talk about that," Crimson growled at him.
"What's this about me loosing something?" Gipsy asked, welcoming the change of subject, anything to get her mind off of those things.
"Well," Crimson said hesitantly, removing his hands from her arms and taking a step back. "Welllll..."
"He said he couldn't fix you so he wanted to cut off your arm and leave you with a painless stump," Striker cut in.
Crimson was about to look back and reprimand the Australian when a strange grating sound filled the silence. They all looked to Gipsy to see the turbine in the middle of her chest slowly grind to a halt, behind it though, the hellish glow only seemed to grow brighter.
Unconsciously the three males took a careful step backward, even Striker, who wasn't feeling too bright about his plan right now.
They had yet to clear the, soon to be called, blastzone, when Gipsy screamed, loud enough that the other residents of the complex could hear her quiet plainly; "WHAT DO YOU MEAN CUT IT OFF?!"
-Linebreak-
Harven Tralanus was a Turian, inducted into the military at fifteen and served another honourable fifteen years before he left and pursued his true passion, one of a shrewd businessmen. Even in the barrack at sixteen he was investing his pay in profitable enterprises and when he left was sitting on a rather large account that few coming out of the army could hope for. Now he was the honourable ambassador of Volvan Colonial Supplies, a Turian based company on the matters of colonization. Their products focused less on the comfortable aspects of colonial life and instead on the practical and militaristic. In fact they made the most off of the Turian military who used their basic prefab modules as mobile command centers during exercises and major operations, such was their reliability in combat. Now, it was Harven's fifteen years of military discipline that kept him from fidgeting in front of the armed guard that held him in it's steely gaze.
The guard, a large Krogan clad in grey armor with the symbol of a thrasher maw paint on it's shoulder in red, stood as still as a statue. It's bare head was the perfect picture of serenity on a killing machine. It was no comfort, however, to the four Turian guards Harven had brought with him. They surrounded him a defensive formation, scanning around for threats. It was Omega after all.
As it was, any sane businessmen would never dream of coming her under any circumstances, but these were hardly normal circumstances.
It had started a few days ago during an investigation of the major shareholders, spearheaded by a Spector of all people, into the connection between them and a bombing by Turian separatists on a colony world. The investigation came up with nothing on them but did uncover a worrying corporate piece of information.
All throughout the company's life it had been backed by a mysterious shareholder known only as Mister Titanus. Since the time of it's conception decades ago, the company had been supported by this Titanus at all times, urging their focus towards battlefield prefabs with ludicrously large investments. He was the unchallenged majority shareholder for ninety years running and in all that time had never been seen in person.
While the investigation was underway the company had been forced to look into Titanus' investor contract and realized that something was missing: An Off World Credit Legitimacy Agreement.
Having contracts with the Turian military, the company was hereby responsible for the credits it took in from investors and insuring their authenticity. Meaning they weren't being stolen from some big bank or organization on a different world and fed to Volvan. If that happened then the party in question could hold Volvan responsible for their stolen money. And the military, naturally wanting nothing to do with thieves, would publicly denounce their relationship with the company and say they were innocent in the whole thing, claiming to be a victim of the company's lies of credit authenticity. The backlash would kill the whole organization. Therefore representatives of the company had go forth and find out if their investor's money was coming from legitimate sources and get them to sign the OWCLA.
Most of the time this was, as the humans said, a piece of cake. The investigation might take as little as a quick visit and signature with the agreement itself needing to be renewed every year. But in the case of Mister Titanus things were a bit more complicated. Since he'd been a shareholder from before Volvan had military contracts he never had to agree to the OWCLA due to it's early lack of ties with the army.
During the Spector's investigation they realized he hadn't signed in fifty years, more then enough time for billions of credits to go missing if his investments were anything to go by. Naturally the Spector found this, but instead of ratting them out for illegitimacy intake of funds gave them a month to investigate and get the papers signed.
Everyone was nervous upon contacting him, for fear of angering this, apparently, rich as hell person and losing him as an investor. Not to mention he'd only contacted them through written messages so no one had ever seen his face, let alone heard his voice. They were surprised when he agreed wholeheartedly to signing the papers, but he was less then happy to have to sign them in person to insure that this was the investor and not a lying proxy. So, after a few days of no contact he called them up and said he'd do it. They asked for his location and he gave them the least expected place of all; the biggest shit hole in the galaxy: Omega.
Unfortunately for him, Harven was chosen to go, having the most experience in dealing with the signing of the OWCLA with reluctant individuals.
Naturally he was giving some guards, supplied by the Turian military, along a company shuttle and headed off the rusting station. Upon getting there they were contacted by a Krogan who called him out by name and said to head for a hanger near the lower levels. It put them on edge, the lower levels being the primary territory of the Blood Pack. When asked why they shouldn't dock in the upper levels the Krogan replied "it would shorten their journey." So, against their better judgement, they followed his instructions and landed without trouble. When they left their flying haven, they were confronted by two squads of heavily armed Krogan soldiers. He used the term soldiers because there was nothing else to describe them. Their grey armor and weapons were all uniform and clean, and they operated with a cohesiveness born of vigorous training and discipline.
The leader of the grouped ordered one squad to stay behind and guard their shuttle while the rest led Harven and his team deeper into Omega. During their trip they passed dozens of Blood Pack, Vorcha and Krogan, but none dared attack. All they did was hiss and growl at them. Surprisingly, their Krogan escorts didn't react. No roaring back or even threatening heft of their guns, only walking forward with measured steps and firm grips on their weapons. While he was happy with the extra security, the guards themselves unnerved him. Since when were these brutes so organized and calm.
Before long their trip took them out of Blood Pack territory and into a clear section of station before they arrived at one of the apartment complexes in the lower levels. Upon entering, he had to stop and ask himself if he was seeing things. The place was... clean.
The lobby that they were currently standing in was scrubbed down and painted a dull white, making it look like the lobby to some second rate hospital. Instead of chairs and side tables the room was filled with plates of deployable cover that would spring up from the ground, large enough to hide a fully grown Krogan behind them. On the wall, beside a closed door leading deeper into the complex was a large, brand new medical dispenser with the symbol of the Sirta Foundation etched on it's front, furthering Harven's unease. Where did they get it, and in such good condition too?
Their Krogan escorts had stayed outside, opening the front door and telling them to wait in the lobby, leaving them to explore their surroundings without hindrance. Not that there was much to look at in the first place.
"I don't like this," the Turian Sargent sidled up to him and whispered in his ear. "Something's not right here."
The rest of the guards all nodded in agreement, still gathered around him and never letting their guard down.
"I have to agree," Harven whispered back.
"So where is this Mister Titanus of yours?"
"I don't know."
They stood in silence for another minute before the front door opened and two more Krogan in pitch black armor stalked in, dragging two corpses behind them. The Turians all shrank back as the two glared at them, dropping the bodies in the middle of the room.
As if by some signal, the second door opened and another Krogan stepped out. Harven quickly determined it must be an officer of some kind, wearing the same grey armor, only with a red stripe across his chest. His head was bare and on his red head plate was painted 'G-4T.'
The Krogan regarded Harven for a moment before stepping up to his brethren in black. "Report," he said stiffly.
The two removed their helmets, reviling scared faces and 'G-3' on their grey head plates. "Investigation complete, sir," one said, "we found no trail back. The twerps covered their tracks good." He nodded back to the bodies. "G-2. All armor, weapons and equipment stolen."
"Where did you find them," the officer asked.
"We didn't. They fell through the chutes and ended up in the Chop Shop."
The officer didn't react, only stepped around them to flip the dead Krogan on it's back. As he did so, Harven couldn't but wince. He hadn't fought Krogan before but he knew what they were capable of. So to think that there was something out there that could do that was scary.
The dead Krogan's head was squished back into it's hump, as if a tank had landed on it. It's arm was broken and had three extra joints so that it bent like a lightning bolt across the floor.
He didn't even need the officer to flip the other body to see it's cause of death. Four holes were showing from it's bare back, evidence of a knife of some kind. Only thing was that they must have been huge, almost longer his arm. The holes were also... cauterized? What kind of knife could do that?
The officer stood, silently staring at the bodies, the two others standing beside him. "Do you know who did this?" he said at last with no emotion, rage or otherwise.
The two glanced at each other before one answered. "The Jaegers."
That seemed to surprise him, for he turned quiet suddenly at stare at them. "Jaegers?"
"A new group Aria found. Tough sons of bitches. They took out the upper checkpoint with their bare hands in less then a minute."
"They did what?"
Now not only the officer was curious. Harven could tell his guards were listening in with rapt attention. But, unfortunately, nothing was was forthcoming.
The officer shook his head. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"
The two shrugged. "It's not our place to know, sir."
The officer glared at them before gesturing at the bodies. "Get them out of here," he ordered.
Nodding, the two black armored Krogan took the bodies by the arms and started dragging them across the room and towards the door leading deeper into the complex. Harven was so busy watching them he never noticed the officer approaching until he was right in his face.
"Who are you?" the Krogan growled.
"U-uh," Harven stammered before composing himself and replying, "Harven Tralanus, representative of Volvan Colonial Supplies. I was told I would be meeting with Mister Titanus to sign the OWCLA."
The Krogan regarded him coldly for a moment before motioning with a hand. "Follow me."
With that, he turned and headed for the door, leaving Harven and his guards to hurry after him.
As they passed through the door, the sense of unease only grew inside him. The hallways beyond were painted white and smelled of disinfectant. Doors were spaced on either side at regular intervals and through the few that were open he could see rows of bunks against the walls. A barracks, he realized, this was all one giant barracks.
Suddenly he wasn't so worried about not getting the OWCLA signed, he just wanted to get out. Before he could they reached an elevator at the far end of hallway and soon they were heading upward. They stopped on the tenth floor and the Krogan led them through more bleached corridors before stopping at a closed door.
"Your guards will have to wait outside," the Krogan said and opened the door, standing aside to Harven in.
Against his better judgement, Harven stepped inside, the door closing behind them as the Krogan followed him in.
The room was, as he expected, white with a large desk with neatly organized piles of datapads resting on it's surface. But sitting behind it was the biggest Krogan Harven had ever seen. Even sitting on his chair he still reached almost seven feet tall. His grey armor was scarred and full of bullet holes but looked freshly repaired and polished. His bare head was heavily wrinkled with age, even for a Krogan. His head plate appeared to have been torn off, replaced a thick, molded piece of metal that was grafted into his skull, crafted in such a way you couldn't tell the difference between metal or bone unless you looked close enough.
Standing on the right side of the massive beast was another Krogan, clad in pitch black armor with the familiar symbol on his chest. The thing that really drew Harven's attention however was the fact that he was... well, small. Coming up at barely six feet the Krogan was thin, but his limbs seemed to hide an unnatural strength inside them. A deep scar ran over his left eye and up onto his grey headplate and the eye itself was bleached white. Despite the battle scar the Krogan looked... young. If Harven had to make a guess he would have put his age at barely over two centuries.
He had little time to look at anything else however, for the monster of a Krogan straightened in his chair and spoke. "Greetings. You are Harven Tralanus, yes?"
Harven had keep himself from gaping. His voice was so different then what had expected. It was smooth like old leather and had no trace of the guttural growling that all Krogan seemed to possess. If he didn't know better he would have thought the Krogan had gone to all the finest speech courses on Thessia, Palaven and the Citadel.
He nodded mutely as his guide stepped around him to stand to the left of the Krogan.
The Krogan smiled, not unkindly but comforting either. "Good. You're one of the more punctual representatives I've had to meet with over the past month."
"O-other representatives?" he asked, nervously.
"Volvan is hardly the only company I have invested into."
"I see. Sorry for that, Mister Titanus."
The black armored Krogan snorted, a humourless grin tugging at his lips.
"Forgive my friend here," Titanus sighed, motioning over to the Krogan. "Krual is not as patient in these matters as I am."
The grin dropped from Krual's lips as fast as it had appeared.
"A-alright," Harven said, taking a breath. "As you have never signed the OWCLA I will go over..."
"Please," Titanus interrupted, raising a hand. "I have studied the regulations when I first got your message and, giving it's length, I can only guess that you are no more excited about explaining them then I am of hearing them. Again."
He was right. Harven really didn't want to go over the whole one hundred and fifty page booklet with a possibly volatile Krogan. But Titanus was so.. different, far from the warmongering brute's he knew Krogan as. Still, he could have been lying about it, if only to save some time.
He swallowed. "I'm afraid that, due to many investors not being truthful about that, I must..."
"Page sixty seven paragraph three line five: All investments of the major shareholders exceeding fifty thousand must be sent through secured bank transaction channels or solid chit. Both to prevent syphoning and/or contamination of credits from a third party," Titanus said, as if repeating the agreement word for word.
It took Harven a minute to check his omni-tool and look it up and found that he was correct. It was all there just as he had said.
"Alright," he said, shutting off his omni-tool."Do you have the necessary documents?"
Titanus motioned towards a single datapad resting on his desk and Harven picked it up.
Everything was here and perfectly organized. The records of all the yearly investments to Volvan were all laid out plainly and their numbers fit the ones he had down to the last decimal. Where the credits had come from however, Harven couldn't help but raise an eyeridge in surprise. Returning investment payments from the Sirta Foundation and at least a dozen other small companies he didn't recognize. Even some of the last return from Volvan was mixed in.
As he scrolled down on the pad, he saw the investments from the last thirty years laid out before him, and all of them either from returning payments or from a private account simply labelled 'Fiances.' More importantly, everything was easy to check. After a few taps on his omni-tool he confirmed all the returning payments were legitimate.
"Everything seems to be in order," he said slowly before opening his omni-tool and waving it over the pad. The screen went blank as he sent it a new file. On it's clear surface an official document appeared with a line near the bottom. He handed it back to Titanus. "Please sign on the line."
The massive Krogan shifted in his seat as picked it up. He stared at it for a moment, reading the text before pulling a stylus from under the desk and signing.
Harven's omni-tool beeped as the document was recalled into the device. "And that concludes the OWCLA," he said.
"I see," Titanus murmured. "But before you go I would like to talk about something else."
"Oh?"
"Not only am I an investor but a buyer as well. Just recently I ordered in a large amount of your industrial patterned prefabs and I was hope you could increase the speed of delivery. You see my... primary system of transport has fallen under some hard times and could no longer meet my expectations. Normally I would hire someone else to make the pickup, but, as you are aware, this is Omega, and honest transport is hard to find."
"Um," Harven sighed nervously. "I am... not responsible for the transport of product, sir."
"I am aware of that. However, my investment name and my order form name are two different things, an earlier decision I now regret. But just recently I received word from your company that the delivery of my order was being lowered in priority. I don't know the reasons why but I am in need of those prefabs."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do anything about it," Harven said, taking a step back, fearful of retribution.
"I understand," Titanus replied, in tone so sincere you couldn't help but believe him. "But what I really need you to do is to give this to the quartermaster of your stockyards." He activated his omni-tool and Harven's beeped as something was sent.
"What's this?" he asked, looking at the secured datapacket.
"An express delivery payment. All legal under your terms of service."
Before Harven could say anything else Titanus waved a hand. "We're done here. An escort is waiting outside and will lead you and your guards back to your shuttle."
-Linebreak-
"That is possibly the dumbest thing I've seen you do in the past four years," Krual snorted, his voice deep and guttural as the door shut behind the Turian. "If he wasn't freaked out before he certainly is now."
"Of what?" Titanus asked, picking up a pad from the desk and looking at it.
"Oh please. If any Turian worth his quad had a good look at us he would run off scream about the Krogan rebellions."
"Your point?"
"My point?! My point is that you let five, now fully paranoid Turian soldiers into our headquarters and let them have a good look around. We'll be lucky if we don't have the Hierarchy at our throats within the week."
"While I'm aware of that possibility I doubt it would be that soon. To both their eyes and Aria's we are still small. The loss of merc group territory will hardly concern her. But it doesn't change the fact that we need those prefabs. If Okeer and his group calculated correctly we could be receiving twice the number we expected. Without the last shipment from Qill our equipment will be stretched thin."
"Exactly how many again?"
Titanus hummed in his throat as he glanced at the pad again. "Six thousand, plus another thirty blank Templates."
Despite the large numbers, Krual scowled. "Six thousand. And I get twenty percent of them?"
"Correct."
The short Krogan growled and moved to stand before the desk before continuing. "I can't take twenty percent. My training sargents are already taxed to the limits readying the last batch you sent me. They may be the best of the G-2Ts but there's only so many they can teach effectively before it becomes flash training. It doesn't help much that I lost two of my best on an inspection of the drop off point."
This actually seemed to surprise him, not so much the officer to his left.
"When did this happen?" Titanus asked, tossing the pad away.
"Less then a day ago. According to their last transmission they watched the checkpoint get raided and followed the attackers back to their HQ. I told them to standby and wait for me, but they were discovered before I could get there. Then their transponders cut out and left me in the markets. It did give me an excellent view of their killers, however."
Titanus raised an eyeridge. "And who where they?"
"Some group of metal freaks Aria put together. You heard of those four mechs that flattened Warlord Velc?"
"Of the Blood Pack? Of course, who hasn't? Beaten by the Jaegers, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. Those four raided the checkpoint with a group of strays then killed two of my best men."
"And you let them get away?" Titanus asked with a grin. "That's not very like you, Krual."
"I'm patient, not stupid. Besides, they took the skycar system. It would take days to track em' through there."
"I see... Do you think they'll be a problem?"
"Defiantly."
Titanus hummed deep in his throat, scratching his chin with an armored fist. It was only because of first hand experience that Krual noticed the cunning gleam in his eyes. He'd once said that Titanus would've made an excellent politician, almost on par with that human; Udina.
"Very well," Titanus said, rising from his chair with a grunt, reaching a monstrous height of ten and a half feet. "They may be a problem, but for now I only want recon. Find out where they're based, who they are and what they are. No engagement unless attacked first. Understood?"
Krual's nostrils flared. "Recon? These things just killed two of my men..."
"And they will continue to do so if you insist on throwing bodies at them," Titanus interrupted. "You say they're new here? Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."
"How?" Krual snorted.
"I talked Okeer into this venture, didn't I?"
"Yeah, because he's nearly as batshit insane as you."
"Great minds think alike," Titanus said. "But back to the point: You say twenty percent is too many?"
"Yeah."
"Hmmm... I can cut that down to ten percent, but..."
"Five," Krual interrupted. "Or better yet, three. I don't have enough equipment to cover them all."
"Neither do I," Titanus muttered, for the first time a scowl crossing his face. "Then there is really only one thing we can do. Send word to the Chop Shop, I want production increased by ten fold. Okeer's next batch comes in a few days, I want weapons and armor on all of them in three." He pointed at Krual.
"I want you to go to the slave markets and pick up as many able-bodied ones as you can. With the prefabs coming in we can expect an increase in production."
"Fine," the short Krogan nodded, before turning and leaving the office.
Now alone with the officer, Titanus turned to the smaller Krogan and adopted a more college professor like air.
"Alright," he said. "Having taken your observations what can you tell me?"
The officer scowled, his mind turning inward. "I see... a possible threat from the Hierarchy, not now but later. Once Omega has ours we'll have to watch our boarders."
"Yes," Titanus nodded approvingly.
"However, I also see a more immediate threat in these Jaegers, more then you suspect."
"Oh?" Titanus raised an eyeridge. "Explain."
"You are aware of what they are, correct?"
"I've heard the theories, and the primary one is that they're advanced Geth units based off of humans."
"They could be wrong, but if they are Geth then when we start advancing they might believe us a threat to them as well. My reasoning being that the Geth weren't around for the rebellions but they would know about them and the threat we made to galaxy as a whole. They may come to assist our enemies, if only for their own survival."
A smile crossed Titanus' features and he grasped the officer by the shoulder. "Now there's something I never considered. You take your lessons seriously."
"To fight in ignorance is the true downfall of the mighty," the officer replied, quoting Titanus on his own words.
Titanus' smile only grew wider. "Very good. You have been taught by the finest in tactical warfare, but that comes secondary to your most important attribute. You see things. Any general can come up with a war wining strategy, but if he can't look beyond his own army to see all his enemies, their strengths and their weaknesses, he is doomed to fail. It appears that you can look beyond even that to see things that most would consider trivial but what you consider vital. You're correct. The Geth may be a problem in the future, maybe even sooner then we expected. And for that, I believe you deserve a name. So tell me, tankbred, what name will you carve across the galaxy under the banner of the Rising Maws?"
The officer looked down, contemplating his options. He stayed like that for a full minute before lifting his head and looking Titanus in the eye.
"My name is Xran," he said.
"An odd name. Why?"
"Because it doesn't fit Krogan tradition, to have a strong name. It is new, unfamiliar, like us. A new breed of Krogan."
"Fitting," Titanus' smile adopted a more serious tone as he stepped back. "Congratulations Commander Xran, you are hereby eligible to assume your post as third in command of the Rising Maws based on Omega. May your enemies tremble before you and your mind stay sharp."
Xran slowly straightened, before saluting with a hand on his chest. "Thank you, General Titanus."
"Well, now that it's done with onto business," Titanus said, reaching over and plucking another pad from the desk.
"Your new mission," he explained, handing it to Xran. "Operation; Omega of Omega. You have two days to complete Phase 1 and make a full report. Am I understood?"
"Yes sir."
Okay, I admit it has taken me way to long to update this. Life has been hitting me hard and fast and I have little time to keep up. I got accepted into college a while ago and started only two weeks, and in that time already had a test with two more next week. So yeah, my life has been pretty hectic. But now chapter nine his here and with it, I imagine, some disappointment for some of you. Based on the reviews I got on the last chapter some of you were expecting some big reveal to who or what brought them to Omega. Again, like with Shepard, it won't be for a while. I have it planed out to be this long story line that coincides with their time with Shepard and that will lead into the mass effect 3. Truth be told, I was thinking about adding it into this Rising Maw story line, but then started to realize it would be too much to handle juggling two very important story lines. It is all to make this easier for me to write, so I don't want to quit and to save the best parts for last, again, to make me want to write more and to keep it interesting for you.
So yeah, only small hints for now until I really kick off the story.
As for the Rising Maw thing... I may have over thought it a little. See I want it to end as soon as possible so we can get to the main mass effect story line, but I underestimated how big of an undertaking it would be. While I haven't updated in a while my fingers haven't been idle, and in my free time I have written up to The Rising Maw part 8. So yeah, I might take a while to get this done with, but so far as I know, updates are going to be coming regularly for the next month so long as they pass final inspection.
See you next week, DJ out!
(No own Pacific Rim or Mass effect.)