Smoke hovering between the ceiling and the heads beneath created an illusion of a cloud covered sky. The air was thick with voices – batarian, volus, turian, krogan, and even vorcha. Only few humans added to the stream of chatter that pulsated through the veins of Omega.
Arek strolled through the market of the commercial district. He inhaled deeply the scent coming from a stand offering grilled meat of an animal he had never heard off. Four steps further, his growling stomach turned at the stench of trash and waste. If there was more rotting than the garbage from a food stand, then he didn't want to know.
He was still wearing his casual outfit, the short now wrinkled after a two hours nap, and blended with the crowd with ease. Armor showing insignia of the Alliance would have drawn unwanted attention to a squad that was supposed to smuggle a human general from Omega back to their shuttle.
Arek stopped at a store front, reading "Omega Market" on the neon sign. A batarian vendor cast him a dark glare, but didn't deem the human's presence worth of more than that; he continued to bargain with a krogan customer while Arek browsed the goods with great interest.
When they were told they were two hours early after their arrival Arek had been irritated. He was tired from his lack of sleep, and sitting in a close space right across that damned turian hadn't brightened his mood.
However, walking the streets of Omega on his own proved to be not the worst way to spend his time.
He picked up a heavy pistol, admiring the sleek design and the sturdy, silver and black frame. For its type of weapon, it was surprisingly light, and it rested well in his hand.
"Pay, or put it down, human!" The batarian took the weapon from him and put it back on display.
"What can you tell me about it?" Most of the time he relied on his biotic skills, for the rest he had his SMG. But an additional pistol, for emergency cases, sure wouldn't hurt, and, at least as importantly, this little baby looked good on him.
"The acolyte? Asari manufactured, which should give you an idea about its power. Strips down shields like nothing else. Worth the time it takes to recharge, if you know what you're aiming at."
"Sweet." Arek whistled through his teeth, reaching for the weapon again, but pulled back his hand when the batarian cleared his throat. Good, the guy didn't seem too eager to make business with him, which meant only one thing: Arek now wanted the weapon more than anything else. He tried to remember his remaining credits for this month. Damn, he should have asked Meyrani to come with him, she sure would have lent him the rest. Well, time to start bargaining; cornering the salesman with sharp questions should do the trick.
"Haven't seen one before. Are they legal?"
"Depends who you're working for," the vendor shot back, his four eyes staring at him with suspicion. "Word of advice, human. If this is a concern of yours, you better catch a shuttle and get your ass off of Omega."
"No, no. All fine, but thanks for the advice anyway." That went far from well. The last thing he needed was another reason for Thea to bite of his head because word travelled about a human behaving suspiciously. He decided to give up on bargaining, but not on the acolyte yet.
"What's the price for this baby?"
The batarian named the number, and walked away. The look of defeat in Arek's face said all about a failed business he needed to know to not waste more of his time with this human.
Arek still stared at the weapon. Maybe, if he tried to save some of his pay, he should be able to afford it – in three or four months. If no spontaneous parties or other tempting ways to throw out his credits came his way. Three months... would he still be alive then? Would this store still exist? Was there a point of saving only one credit when a reaper might turn him into charcoal tomorrow?
He sighed goodbye to the pistol, and turned around, smashing his face against a hard back.
"Not you of all possible people..." he groaned when the turian turned around.
"A plague is less difficult to get rid off than you," was the sharp retort.
"Hey, no fighting in front of my-" The batarian stopped in the middle of his rant, and his frown broke into a smile. "Mojo! Is that you? I thought you left Omega for good! Dead or alive, the rumours never found an agreement on that detail."
"Marsh. Still selling scrap metal for a living, I see." Mojo pushed Arek out of his way, and shook the offered hand.
"Don't you dare to insult my store! Tell you something." Marsh leant over the counter and pointed at a salarian. He seemed still young, and inspected a shotgun with a look so earnest that it was obvious he had never held a gun before.
"Folks don't show it, but half of everyone is crazy to get their hands on a good gun. The other half is crazy to get rid off their good guns before the galaxy crumbles, after keeping the real things for themselves for so long. Now, give me your Viper already, and lets see what I can do for her!"
Forgotten – or ignored – by his squadmate and the vendor, Arek stood behind the turian, staring at his wide shoulders. This was Mojo, all right, but actually bantering with the batarian. Who apparently had known him for a while, and was still willing to speak with him.
He was chewing on his tongue, dying to make a snippy remark. The reasonable part of his mind warned him to shut up and walk away... since when did his conscience speak with the voice of Amalthea?
And anyway, this pest was from Omega? Interesting, yet, it was easy to imagine this rude idiot as a merc. His battle armor was black with dark red highlights, a lot the shirt he was wearing – a brownish red with black lines. Was it a hint, pointing at the Blood Pack? Or had it been red sand? Assassination? Weapon smuggling? Or even human trafficking? None of this would surprise him, and he wondered how Mojo managed to be assigned to a squad under the command of the Alliance. The why was interesting, too.
Being an asshole isn't a crime. Thea had been right, but who said that Mojo was just an asshole? Arek had reached a point where he'd expect him to side with the reapers, for no other reason than being a jerk.
A faint vibration around his arm woke him up from is musing. He activated his omni-tool and accepted the call.
"Thea? Everything good?"
"You guys hear me? Can I speak freely?"
He looked around. The market was crowded, and each stall in sight was occupied by at least three or for costumers. Nothing that could be called a quiet spot, except...
"Give me a second." Goodbye, breath. He fell into a moderate pace, steering his steps away from the batarian's store as indifferent as he could be, and towards the alley close to the food stall from before. Before he could slip into the dark corner he collided with Mojo.
"God, just stop stalking me, you ugly idiot!"
"Surprise, you're not the centre of the universe. What do you want?" the turian growled at his omni-tool.
"Listen, you two. We have a situation." The asari was keeping her voice low. Arek heard somebody whisper, and judging from the steady noise in the background, Amalthea was trying to keep the conversation away from the ears of the crowd as well.
"Are you in trouble? Where are you? I'll be getting there!"
"Shut up and listen. Meyrani intercepted a distress call that was sent to what they call a 'police office' here. You're both there, right? Meyrani, take over."
"It's a hostage situation. I don't have all the detail yet, but here's what I deciphered so far!" Meyrani didn't bother with keeping her voice down. It took a sharp warning from Amalthea for her to lower her excitement to a whisper as she spoke on, "Major Kabale, leader of one of the political human parties on Citadel, stepped on a few toes. A ship on its way to Sanctuary had Kabale's family on board. It was high-jacked, the family kidnapped, and traces lead to Omega. I still have to figured out the demands, but from what I've heard, if the Major doesn't budge soon, his family will be killed."
"Holy shit. What do we do now? Is there anything we can do?" Arek glared at the people walking past them. Almost everyone was carrying a weapon, and the few who didn't were probably just better at hiding them under their clothes. Who was he fooling, this was Omega, where everyone had a skeleton in their closet, and where one – citizen and visitor alike – was as suspicious as the other.
"To which group do the kidnappers belong? Are they connected to Omega?"
"No clue yet, Mojo, I'm still trying to-"
"Where is their position?" the turian interrupted her, his fingers gliding over his omni-tool.
"You should have the coordinates by now. You two aren't too far away from them."
"Arek, Mojo, listen!" Amalthea cut into the conversation. "This isn't an official assignment, but if we could do something to resolve it... this is just the thing that could earn us some points with the commander! Maybe there's nothing we can do, but there's still time until our job starts, and if at least one of you could investigate..."
"I'm on it."
Arek stared at Mojo, and the sudden silence from the other end of the call suggested that Amalthea and Meyrani were as surprised as him.
Mojo cut off the call, shut off the interface of his omni-tool, and hastened further down the dark alley.
"Hey, wait! Wait for me! I'm on it, too, Rani! Gonna keep an eye on him!" He ended the call, and fell into a jog to keep up with the turian. The smell of decay was becoming stronger. They left the artificial light from the main street behind them, and ran deeper into the darkness.
"Where are you going?" he gasped once he caught up with Mojo.
"To the cordinates. Stop being in my way!"
"It's the other way, dumbass! If we cross the market place, and find our way into the slums, we could-"
"I'm taking a short cut." He halted, and turned around. "To make this clear, I don't need you for this, and I don't want you to come along. Piss off, pyjak!"
Arek raised his hand, his fingers conjuring a small, bluish cloud from the air.
"To make this clear, I won't let you go and make things worse than they already are! Come! Do me the favor and try to stop me." He waved his hand in front of the turian's face.
"Do what you want, but don't think I'll wait for you." He slapped Arek's hand away, turned on his heel and continue his way. Arek chuckled, and dashed after him.
"Are you kidding me?" He ran past Mojo, twisted around and grinned. "I'm faster than you!"
"Good for you." The turian stopped, and jumped onto a trash container. He set one foot on a dent in the wall, grabbed a loose cable, and pulled himself up. He took hold of a pipe, and from there, he climbed up the building.
"Sore loser." Arek pressed his jaws together, and climbed on the container. He found the same spot for his foot. The cable was out of reach, and his fingers scratched over the metallic surface until he found a small ledge to grab. He stretched, and finally, his fingers clenched around the cable.
"Fuck!" His triumph ended when his foot slipped from its hold. The cable was pulled from its anchoring with Arek hanging on its end.
"Goddammit!" Dangling in the air, he looked down. Falling would hurt, although a biotic field should prevent the worst, but... he didn't want to go down, he had to follow that jerk!
Dammit. Mojo would never let him live down what he had to do next.
"Mojo!"
The turian had reached the roof when he was called. He looked down and – laughed.
"Stop laughing, you stupid asshole, and help me!" Arek closed his eyes, took a deep breath and added, "Please."
Mojo stared down at him. After a moment, he shrugged, reached for the edge of the roof, about to climb the rest of the way, then he paused. He looked down again, and Arek swore, if turians were able to frown, Mojo was frowning.
"Come on! This is not about a stupid feud, but about a job!" Arek called up at him, swearing he could see the gears work behind Mojo's forehead. "Whatever's going to happen, you might need a witness!"
Mojo snorted, and his mandibles twitched. He let go of the roof, and let himself slide down the pipe. His legs wrapped around it and one hand holding tight, he stretched towards the gently swinging cable.
"Grab the pipe and climb it. Hurry!" He waited until Arek clenched to the pipe, and rushed back to the roof. A minute later, he seized Arek's hand, and pulled him up.
"I'll never let you live this down."
"I know. Let's make it worth it, okay?" Arek didn't remember the last time he was so relieved to find himself standing on solid ground. Those had been crazy minutes which made one hell of a story once he was back with his friends, from his own, rather embarrassing part, to the fact that his personal nemesis helped him out of his trouble.
Mojo didn't leave him any time to laugh the situation off; with sure steps he was running until he reached the end of the building. Without hesitation he jumped, landing on top of the next roof.
Arek jumped back to his feet and hurried after him. He landed on the same spot only seconds later. The turian was quick, but Arek was indeed the faster runner. He had learned from before, and now stayed behind Mojo, letting him lead the way. When the turian let himself fall flat on the roof instead of jumping over the small gap, Arek followed his example.
"What is it?" he whispered, crawling up to him.
"Quiet! Guards!" He pointed to the building ahead. Four guards were standing in front of the entrance. It was impossible for them to jump from roof to roof without being noticed, and if one of them looked up, they'd soon have some explaining to do.
"Gangs or police? Hey, what are you doing?"
Mojo had activated his omni-tool, his eyes following the rapid flow of letters and numbers on the screen while he was typing.
"Creating a distraction. Why don't you shut up and enjoy the view until I'm done?"
"Yeah... right..." Just because asshole no 1 saved his ass one time, he'd trust him to solve this problem, sure. There had to be a way around the guards, maybe if they returned to one of the alleys, and approached the gate from the other side... He rolled around and crawled towards the edge to his right.
"Wow...!" The commercial district of Omega stretched in front of his eyes.
A cluster of humans and aliens had gathered at the doors of Omega's famous as well as infamous nightclub. AFTERLIFE flickered in big, red neon letters over the building, the light show framed by artificial flames. Or were they real?
The cloud of smoke lay below Arek's position. The lights of the market were showing through it, coloring the smoke in flaring pink and red, and ominous blue and green.
From the ground, he had thought that the living containers of the slums were the highest buildings around him, but now he looked at brightly illuminated skyscrapers that reached high up into the artificial sky. What he had thought was night was revealed to be an everlasting twilight.
The voices echoing through the streets below were reduced to a faint rumble intertwining with the music coming from the Afterlife. In the distance, the drilling from the mines rolled like thunder.
"It's beautiful. Creepy, but beautiful." He turned on his back, and saw how the turian was back on his feet, taking a run to leap over the gap.
"What... wait!" Arek jumped up, quickly looking down – the guards had left their position, he caught a last glimpse of them running past the afterlife towards the shuttle parking lot.
"Okay, how the hell did you do that?" he hissed once he was running next to Mojo. He'd kick his ass for trying to leave him behind later.
"Sent them an obscured distress call, along with the coordinates leading to the Kima district." The turian stopped and gasped for air after they had passed the border to the lower parts of the slums. The bright colors faded. Lights flickered behind dull glass, tinting the street below them in a dirty yellow.
"Wait, you hacked into their communication frequency? You can do stuff like that?!"
"A human child could hack it, the so called security here is a joke. If they'd belonged to a gang, though... Almost there!"
'Almost' turned out to be four more roofs.
The next gap was too large to risk jumping across it. Arek found that climbing down a hot steam pipe was as unpleasant as climbing up a cold water drain, but at least he didn't have to swing on a cable this time. Clawing as tightly to the pipe as he could, he climbed it down at a slow, steady pace. Mojo was waiting above him, impatiently kicking the pipe with his foot. Once Arek was back on the ground, the turian hurried down the pipe, forcing Arek to jump out of his way or he would have tackled him.
"At least you're having fun." Grumbling to himself he followed Mojo, pulling a grimace behind the turian's back.
Arek found solace in the sound of Mojo's ragged breathing between the chuckles; the turian might be better at climbing, but the human beat him when it came to running. His little triumph did last until Mojo stopped, and pointed at another pipe.
"Up here!"
"Damn this!" How much more climbing would he have to endure for this job that wasn't even official?
Let's hope it will pay off in the end, Thea, or you owe me a massage! He stretched his back once he stepped on the rooftop, trying to loose his stiff, aching shoulders. He followed Mojo to the opposite edge. They had reached a dead end unless they returned to the ground; the next building was across what looked like a market place.
Compared to the lively, colorful market district around the Afterlife, this one stirred pity in Arek. Only a few stalls were open, and offering daily goods side by side with old guns and scrap metal. He counted no more than 20 heads, a handful of them bending over the tables in hope to strike a deal. Most were loitering, getting drunk and throwing trash at a varren pilfering a garbage can.
The turian was lying on his stomach. His rifle was aimed at a window across the market, his eyes was glued to the scope.
"See anything?" Arek crouched beside him, squinting at the building. He pulled his smg and zoomed in as far as it allowed, but all he saw were the silhouettes of four, maybe five people.
"Thought so. This has Murakos' handwriting all over it"
"Who the fuck is Murakos? Wait." Arek set up and activated his omni-tool. "I think that's Rani calling. Hey, girl, any news?"
"Arek? Meyrani here! We got your position. Not bad, that was fast!"
"Thanks to... a shortcut." This wasn't the time for minor details about their way up here, and as far as Arek was considered, there was no reason to bore anyone with them.
But I guess someone I know can't wait to tell the tale. He glared at the turian, but almost broke into a grin when he saw the calm, serious face.
"Everything under control here. Judging from Mojo's expression, he's waiting for the right head to pop up to plant a bullet."
"No, wait! We got an update!" the distant voice cried out in alarm. "The situation is safe! Sankta Fedorian is with the hostages."
"Bullshit!" the turian snorted.
"Fedorian? That rings a bell, gimme a second..."
"Sankta is a nephew of the late primarch Fedorian." Mojo was still focusing on what happened behind the window while he spoke. "But that's bullshit, that isn't him! There's a woman, a young girl and a child, never seen them before, but I do know that turian bastard!"
"Rani, send me a picture of that guy."
"Done, Arek. Mojo, you hear me? It's over! The hostages are fine, they were lucky that Sankta and his crew are on shore leave for a few hours. Don't do anything stupid!"
"Listen, Kid, you don't want me to fuck up your work, now don't fuck up mine! This isn't Sankta!"
Arek crept closer, and shoved his omni-tool before Mojo's face. A small, holographic figure was flickering above Arek's arm.
"Does the dude you see look like that?" Arek tipped at the white marks on the face.
"Yes, but..."
"No but! Mojo, put the rifle down! Reaper invasion or not, if you kill a member of an ex-primarch's family they will find a way to put us in front of a military court!"
"Shut up, Arek, I said that isn't Sankta!"
"Let me at least have a look!" He tore at Mojo's arm, and shoved his head behind the scope, feeling the turian's breath on his neck. He caught a glimpse of a group of four. A turian, talking with a woman and who he assumed to be her children. Grey, almost bluish face plates, with bright, white marks covering most of it.
"Sorry, Mojo, it's the same face."
"It's the same tattoo, and you're too dumb to tell one turian from the other apart!" He pushed Arek away, and brought his rifle back in position. "Murakos was a blankface when he left Palaven. He had markings similar to Fedorian's tattooed on his face during his years with the Blue Suns. A few more lines of paint, and the disguise is perfect! Now let me finish this!"
"Why the fuck should I trust you on this? I'm risking an innocent life here!"
"There's nothing innocent about Murakos." Mojo was lying still, the finger twitching at the trigger. "Come on, bastard, a bit more to the right.."
Arek stared at him. His omni-tool blinked, still holding the call from Meyrani. Knowing her, she was busy searching for anything she could find on this Murakos guy.
Supposed Mojo was right. Then the major's family was still in danger. In the hands of a criminal, who happened to be a turian who looked a lot like another turian related to a dead primarch, and who copied his tattoo to be mistaken as that primarch's nephew, using the good name for criminal intentions.
Suppose he was wrong, or lying. A member of the turian military, the real nephew of Fedorian, wouldn't have had any trouble to pass the gates to the slums, and to reach the hostages before him and Mojo. He'd have the weapons, name and influence, at least more than two plain-clothed members of an Alliance squad. As a member of a family of political importance, a Fedorian probably was more informed about an incident with political motifs? Maybe that was the whole cause of that 'shore leave'?
What proof did he have, beside Mojo's word? He had learned today that the biggest asshole he knew was from Omega, and had been a part of its criminal society for who knew how long. A week would have been enough for him to piss off enough people. He could only imagine how long the list with scores to settle was, a list that might include Sankta Fedorian.
No, one option was as absurd as the other. Yet, he had to make a decision, right now, and it boiled down to one question:
Did he trust Mojo?
"Mojo, no!" He threw himself on top of the turian the moment Mojo pulled the trigger. The viper jerked to the side. Both stared after the sound that cut through the air.
"Out of sight! Fuck!" Mojo took a quick look through the scope. "Fuck it! Fuck YOU!" He jumped up, his hand aiming for Arek's throat. Arek had learned from the last time he had driven Mojo to his limits, and dodged the attack with a jump to the side.
"I can't let you kill an innocent guy!" Arek yelled.
"You idiot! I told you he isn't a Fedorian! I told you!" He lifted the viper, and for a moment Arek feared he would smash it into Arek's face.
Try it! I have a shockwave with your name on it waiting for you!
"I've worked long enough in this dump! I've known this guys for years and he has always been trouble! Ambitious trouble! Now there's a hole in the wall instead of his head, because you're a damn idiot!" Mojo shouted, shaking with rage. He took a step towards Arek, when another call came in.
"What?" Arek answered it, not leaving the turian out of sight.
"We intercepted a call from Kabale's wife just a few seconds ago!" Amalthea's voice thundered through. "She begged for help! Hurry! It wasn't Sankta who was with them, Mojo was right, and the room is rigged with..."
A deafening explosion silenced her.
Startled, Arek staggered backwards, his foot stepping on air. A hand seized him by his arm, and hurled him onto the roof. Screams and shouts for help coming from the market reached his ears. More and more people filled the street, drawn out of their houses by the noise and the smell of fire. Arek recovered his balance. Mojo was standing at the edge of the roof, staring at the flames shooting out of the window across the street.
"Mojo, I..." He stared at the fire, running his hands through his hair. The stench of burnt chemicals crept through the air and into his nose.
"I could have saved them. But becauseyou didn't... Fuck it!" Mojo turned around and walked past Arek, throwing his rifle to the ground.