It was a couple of days later when Janet found herself far along the circumference of the station, perched atop the flat roof of a three story building. She was crouched low to minimize her profile as much as possible while still retaining the ability to leap to her feet at a moment's notice, and she was peering through a pair of binoculars at a nondescript warehouse. There had been no activity of note so far in the nearly two hours she and the two others accompanying her had been observing the structure, though all the windows were made of tinted one-way glass, making it impossible to see inside.
She glanced aside to look at the smooth, reflective visor of the helmet that obscured the features of the quarian that had guided them there. Aria's people had put her in contact with him, knowing that a newcomer such as she would probably get lost in the maze of Omega's streets and caught up in its endemic petty crime and gang disputes.
He had been introduced with an implausibly long name: "Lando'Mal nar Usela." Though he was the first quarian Janet had ever encountered, he was a typical example of his species based on images and reports she had seen: wearing a sealed enviro-suit and about the same height as she was, though he was broader in his shoulders and had a stockier build.
She – and the Institute – had heard many things about the quarians and their Migrant Fleet since humanity's introduction to the Citadel. About how they had created the geth, originally meant to be a race of synthetic servants, that had turned on their creators over a century ago, wiped most of them out and sent the remnants of the quarian species adrift in space in a flotilla of ships while they hid behind the Perseus Veil, doing God knows what in the formerly quarian space.
The quarians had had their embassy at the Citadel revoked for unleashing an artificial intelligence on the galaxy, a violation of the Citadel Conventions. Nowadays they were viewed by the various species as little more than a minor inconvenience or nuisance... until their Fleet passed through one of their systems. The sheer amount of their ships could take days for all of them to pass through a mass relay, clogging up traffic, while their Fleet had the potential to inadvertently blockade a planet if they were to park their ships in its orbit. Their numbers made the human fleet that had fled the Sol system with the New America seem paltry by comparison.
The most common and effective course of action when the quarian Flotilla entered a system was for the local authorities to offer unwanted resources, such as decommissioned ships, raw materials, and spare parts to their Admiralty. They usually let themselves be bought off with such gifts, with the understanding that their fleet would quickly move on to be a thorn in someone else's side.
Janet couldn't help but see them as the interstellar equivalent of panhandlers. She liked to think that if the refugee fleet hadn't found Samothrace so quickly during the Exodus that they would have had a bit more pride than to force themselves onto others like that.
"What's a quarian doing on Omega?" she had asked when they had first met. "I thought all of you stayed in your Flotilla." The extremely rare personal encounters with quarians and the well known insularity of their Migrant Fleet also contributed to all manner of rumors and perceptions about them. There were, after all, estimated to be only a bit over ten million of them spread out over the thirty thousand ships of their fleet.
The quarian, Lando, had watched her behind the obscuring visor of his helmet, with little more than his eyes and nose to barely make out through it. Eventually he'd answered, "I'm here on my Pilgrimage." He spoke with an accent of some sort, made more alien by the quality his voice was given by speaking from behind a sealed enviro-mask.
"Pilgrimage?" Janet had frowned in puzzlement. "Does Omega have some religious significance for your people?" She couldn't imagine this den of vice and chaos being significant like that in any way, especially given the theme of Aria's club. Unless the quarians really are as bad as some people make them out to be.
Lando had shook his head. "Keelah, no! It is my rite of passage into adulthood, a tradition we have established since our flight from the geth. When we reach maturity we leave the ships of our parents and our people and wander the stars, seeking out something of value. It is through this that we prove that we are worthy of adulthood."
The human's mouth had twisted. "Something of value, huh?" Maybe they really are just a bunch of beggars and thieves.
Lando had picked up on the note of disapproval in her voice and when he spoke again, there had been a note of anger in his voice. "Something like food or fuel, a useful technology, or just knowledge that will make life easier for the Flotilla. It cannot be gained by harming another." He had folded his arms across his chest. "I wouldn't expect one of your kind to understand."
Janet had blinked, taken aback at that sudden turn in the conversation. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she'd demanded.
"We are given lessons about the rest of the galaxy before we leave on our Pilgrimage," he'd replied. "I've heard about you humans. You're levo-amino acid based, which more habitable worlds in the galaxy are based on, as opposed to my people, who are dextro-amino acid based. You were lucky enough to find a world after you were exiled by the Draka, but then you burst into the Attican Traverse killing everyone who stood in your way. And when you had angered the Batarian Hegemony after killing enough of their people, you used the turians' rivalry with the Draka to hide behind them as a shield against their retribution." He had made a scornful sound. "At least we quarians stand on our own, and we don't conquer worlds and resources and then shroud ourselves in self-righteousness."
Her jaw had started to sag open in shock before she snapped it shut, while Dublo had remained conspicuously silent behind her. She had had inklings about how the greater galaxy viewed her people, but she had never heard such a sharply negative slant to their image outside of the Snakes' and the batarians' propaganda.
"That's not how it happened-" she'd began, but paused as Dublo had stepped up behind her and leaned his head behind hers to hide it from the quarian's view as he spoke in a low voice only she could hear.
"Antagonizing our guide before we set off across Omega does not seem to be the most expedient course," he had stated.
Confronted with that piece of cogent – if frustrating – advice, Janet had lapsed into a sullen silence, communicating with the quarian only on matters of business from then on as they had traveled to their present perch.
"You're sure this is the place?" she asked for what she realized was at least the sixth time. Tough. I need to be sure.
"Yes, I am sure," Lando'Mal replied curtly. Then he seemed to relent slightly as she pointedly looked around at the surrounding buildings. Most of them, including the warehouse they were watching, were short, squat structures only two stories high, alike enough to press home the point of her question. "I have been on Omega much longer than I wanted to for my Pilgrimage. I know my way around this part of it."
"Good enough." Janet raised the binoculars back to her eyes to give the warehouse another scan. She pursed her lips as she considered silently, then spoke again after a brief hesitation. "Why have you been on Omega so long then?"
The quarian seemed surprised by the question, and took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. "Why do you think? I haven't found anything useful enough, of enough value, to bring back to the Flotilla yet. Or at least," he continued bitterly, "something that I can afford." Wryly, "Why else would I be running errands for an asari crimelord? Credits are difficult to come by on Omega when you won't kill, and honest money is non-existent."
Janet lowered the binoculars and looked over at him, while Dublo watched them silently from off to the side. "Why did you come here in the first place then?" she asked, genuinely curious.
Lando let out a brief, bitter laugh. "I didn't know all this when I first left. Then, I thought life outside of all the rules and regulations of the Migrant Fleet must be so wonderful and free. Omega especially, all these millions of people from different species and cultures living together, without stifling laws or government. Instead..." He gestured outward with one hand towards Omega as a whole.
Janet found herself shaking her head slightly. Poor kid. Thought the 'big city' would be better than home. It was a remarkably... human situation. She could easily picture him as some farm boy from the old USA's breadbasket moving to Chicago, or Toronto, or Mexico City with stars in his eyes and having the harsh reality come down on him like an avalanche.
"Well," she said after a moment, "I hope you're able to find something soon and be able to finish your Pilgrimage then."
The quarian blinked behind the visor of his suit and looked over at her, studying her for long moments. Finally, he nodded, saying, "Thank you. My pay from this will go a long way towards that."
She returned his nod and brought the binoculars back to her eyes as the salarian Spectre silently considered the interaction. She's more dynamic than I thought. From her previous behavior revealing her implacable hatred of the drakensis and her attitude towards Dublo himself, he had come to the conclusion that she was possessed of a bitterness that her entire species seemed either shaped by, or perhaps it was a biological marker. Humanity's enmity with the batarians and xenophobic reports from Samothracian space had contributed to that perception.
But the fact that they had gone along, however unwillingly, with the evacuation of the drell spoke of either a flawed perception, or of their one time military government possessing merely an acute political acumen. But the human female's willingness to make that gesture of reconciliation further undermines that perception. Perhaps there is more to humanity. It might be worth a suggestion of further study sent to the Council and the dalatrass.
Janet suddenly tensed as the garage door of the warehouse rolled up and threw herself prone just before some rovers sped out, heading towards the nearby spaceport; the quarian squawked as he was knocked over by her sudden motion. Dublo, further from the edge, remained as he was and raised his head slightly to use his own binoculars, which looked to be at least three quarters computer compared to Janet's more basic model.
"Perhaps heading out to pick up a shipment?" the Spectre speculated aloud.
Janet's lips thinned in anger at the thought. "Maybe. Whatever they're doing, there are less of them in there now. This might be a good time for some reconnaissance."
"Those vehicles could return at any time," Dublo observed.
Janet looked over her shoulder at the salarian with a wry smile. "Then we'll leave. We're trying to find out what they're up to, right? It's not like we can just wait until it's dark." She waved at the rock of the asteroid lost to sight in the gloomy recesses far overhead.
Dublo considered a moment, then the corners of his own mouth curved upward slightly. "A fair point. Very well, let's proceed with a reconnaissance then."
Janet nodded, looked over at the quarian, and opened her mouth to say something, but was forestalled when Lando held up a three-fingered hand.
"I'll stay here," he announced. "I wasn't about to volunteer to follow you two in anyway," he finished dryly.
Janet smiled back. "Alright. If we're not back before those rovers return, meet us at the safe house." She waited for the quarian's nod before getting back up in a crouch and looking over at Dublo as she pulled the helmet to her armor on. She had been surprised when he hadn't brought his along. To each his own. "Ready?"
At the Spectre's nod of confirmation she got to her feet, took a few careful deep breaths, then ran towards the edge of the building. Space was precious on Omega, so traveling from one building to the next required little more than a leap of fifteen or twenty feet to cross the empty air between them. Even in full armor and combat load, the greatest danger wasn't that she would fall. Rather, it was the chance they would run into the inhabitants of one of the buildings out to enjoy the air above the stink of street level. If that happened, the encounter would surely end with someone getting shot.
Fortunately, there was nobody on the next roof. She landed rolling, both to absorb the impact and muffle sound. She got to her feet just as Dublo landed more lightly beside her. Not only was her armor heavier, but she weighed more. Baseline humans may not have much strength compared to a drakensis, but even she had more dense muscle than a salarian, even as large a specimen as the Spectre.
After a brief scan across the rooftop, Janet nodded to herself. "Right," she muttered quietly, then took a breath and sprinted towards the next roof.
Luther Tull watched the large batarian shuttle on its long, slow approach to the docks through a viewport, his assault rifle cradled casually in his arms, automatically keeping the armored bulk of one of the rovers between him and any possible danger from the interior of the asteroid. Tarak was standing off to one side, while the remaining ghouloon and a few carefully selected batarian mercenaries who had helped to set up the warehouse were standing further back.
"I still think we should have installed control devices," Tarak commented, glancing over at the Draka briefly.
Luther stopped his lip from curling in disdain as he looked over at the SIU soldier. "An' what's the survival rate when yo' people do that?" he asked rhetorically. They both already knew the answer to that – not many. "Y'all are too impatient," he continued. "Got to break 'em to the yoke personal like. It's how our Domination was built – through domination."
"Fine, fine," the batarian said, shaking his head and dropping the well trodden subject.
Luther smiled inwardly. He still wasn't comfortable with the way Tarak had won those previous arguments. Doesn't hurt to give him a reminder of why his people need us. The fact that Tarak, a soldier of the Hegemomy's elite Special Intervention Unit, was even here assisting with a Domination project was a measure of it.
He's a good enough soldier, but by the White Christ and almighty Thor, these batarians have lost their edge. He was familiar with their past history in the galaxy, how they had launched raids and conquered systems when the opportunities had presented themselves – not unlike the Draka in that respect. But now they use 'deniable assets', he thought with an inward sneer. If yo' goin' to launch an attack to put some fear in yo' rivals, let 'em know it was you and have the strength to make 'em regret tryin' to hit back.
The shuttle landed with a soft bump, then extended a docking arm to connect with the airlock before the engines finally died. The drakensis stood straighter and held his Holbars at the ready as the seal pressurized and the doors slid open. He started to open his mouth to call out a greeting to the two drakensis that were the first ones through, wearing unmarked combat armor and holding their own T-8 assault rifles, but it died as he caught sight of those who follow them.
Servus? Here? The scent was unmistakable. Clean, slightly salty, seasoned with curiosity, excitement, awe, fear, a complex hormonal stew that signaled submission. They were looking around as they emerged behind the advance party, blinking at the dirty surroundings still bearing the markings of the Primarchs' most recent attempt to take over the district. They eyed the batarians and the ghouloon with wariness and fear, and visibly shrank under their direct gaze.
When they caught sight of Luther standing nearby, their relief was near palpable. They covered their eyes with their hands and bowed at the waist, chorusing, "We live to serve."
"Greetin's," he replied, nodding fractionally to acknowledge their deference, then shot a questioning look at the other two Draka, an eyebrow raised. He bristled inwardly as they ignored him, sweeping their gazes over Tarak and the other batarians, then on to their surroundings. It was a breach of Citizen etiquette, the bond of those of the Race, and especially among those of the War Directorate, even if they were of the Intelligence Section and not a combat unit.
What in the gods' names is goin' on heah? he wondered. The servus were followed by more of their kind wheeling out crates and covered equipment. His frown deepened as their numbers grew to a couple dozen, accompanied by more drakensis in unmarked armor, most of them as unresponsive as the first two.
Finally one of them approached, a female drakensis with a brown hair cropped close to her skull and green eyes. She brought her right fist to chest in a formal salute. "Service to the State."
"Glory to the Race," he replied, returning the salute. "Luther Tull, Tetrarch, VIII Airmobile, Reconnaissance."
"Tina Pinkard, Cohortarch, Krypteia," she replied. The corners of her mouth turned upward slightly as he stiffened and his eyes narrowed.
Krypteia. Security Directorate intelligence. His eyes swept across the other Draka, seeing them with new eyes. Every Citizen received formal military training when they came of age, but these were too stiff, they didn't have the same natural wariness that a true Forces veteran had. He turned his eyes back to the Krypteia woman as she turned to Tarak in turn and exchanged her formal Draka greeting with his batarian-style one.
"Cohortarch," he began as they finished their introductions. She would be a superior officer, he thought sourly. "I was, ah, given the understandin' that this was an Intelligence Section project." A War Directorate project. His eyes swept across the servus and their equipment again briefly, adding that silent question as well.
Her cool green gaze measured him for a few silent seconds before she replied. "This is a mattah fo' the State, Tetrarch. War an' Security are pursuin' this jointly." Her eyes swept to the servus in turn. "An' we brought some extra help along."
Luther kept his face blank as he replied, "Yes, Cohortarch." Inside, his mind was whirling. What in God's name is goin' on? he thought plaintively. Nobody in IntelSec had said anything about working with headhunters. Somethin' ain't right.
As he turned towards the rover, he noticed Tarak giving him a questioning look. They had spent enough time working together that he could tell something was off with the drakensis.
Luther walked nearby the batarian as the servus began loading their equipment into one of the rovers. "Later," he murmured under his breath, turning his face towards him so none of the other drakensis could hear him.
Tarak maintained a stoic expression, but examined the other Draka with new eyes himself. Better find out what this is all about. It would be all he needed, getting caught up in some internal Draka dispute.
Then he paused and considered. This could also mean there's a chink in that armor the Domination likes to hold up. The Hegemony might find that of interest. With that thought running through his head, he followed Luther over to the other rover.
Janet took a few deep breaths in and out to control her breathing as she crouched and approached the edge of the last roof before the warehouse. She pursed her lips, the corners of her mouth turning downward as she noted the drop of ten feet between the warehouse's roof and that of the neighboring building she was on top of.
Dublo reached her side a moment later and fell to one knee as he also examined the situation. "Problematic," he remarked.
The SSI agent nodded silently in reply. Getting down there wasn't the hard part. How do we get back over here once the recon is done?
She glanced over briefly as the Spectre started going through the compartments in his armor, then double taked as he pulled a spool of thick metallic wire tipped with a socket of some sort. It was followed by a globule wrapped in some dull matte colored foil, also tipped with a socket. He quick fitted the two sockets together and twisted them with a satisfyingly deep click.
A pistol-shaped device followed from another compartment, to which he clicked the globule into its barrel. "Adhesive compound," he explained to her unspoken question as he stripped the foil from the globule, revealing a semi-transparent gel that looked, for all intents and purposes, like rubber cement. He aimed it carefully down at the other rooftop, then fired with a muffled hiss of compressed gas, sending it streaking across the intervening space to splat into the other roof. Dublo unreeled a length of the wire, which was far flexible than it had first looked, and wrapped it around his forearm a few times before giving it a few cautious tugs.
"Secure enough. It will be enough to hold our weight to climb back up here." He carefully unreeled more of the wire, keeping it taut, then set the spool down on their rooftop. The press of another button and a hiss of air came through the top of it, leaving it set immovably. "Vacuum seal," he explained again. "This will also bear our weight."
So much for a rope and grappling hook, Janet thought, nodding in approval as she ran her eyes over the set up. The Institute really needs to get some of these toys.
"We should not tax it overmuch, however," the salarian stated as he got back to his feet and walked back a ways for a running start. He paused, then ran lightly and leaped to the next rooftop below, tucking and rolling as he landed.
By the time Janet joined him, he had already activated his omni-tool and found small sensors along the outside of one of the window frames. With a few deft taps on its holographic interface, he tapped into the sensors' wireless signals and overrode the alarm system.
"I've got this one," she said as she crouched next to him at the edge of the rooftop and pulled out a laser cutter. The small beam carved off a tiny piece of the window's upper corner with a barely audible, high pitched whine. "Just enough for this," she muttered as she pulled a small device with a vid screen and little control sticks and buttons. She extended a maneuverable cable of fiber optics out of it and slid it carefully through the hole she had made.
She frowned as she moved the cable around, watching the images transmitted back to the screen. The window was at one end of a corridor, with several doors that looked to be storage rooms lining either side. At the far end were two chairs set against a wall next to a bank of monitors. One guard, a batarian, was sitting slouched and watching the monitors. The other, also a batarian, was pacing up and down the hall, tapping a stunner from one hand into the other idly. Both were armored and had weapons slotted onto their backs.
"Magnify—" the Spectre began.
"On the monitors, yeah, yeah," she finished for him. "I have done this sort of thing a time or two before," she finished with a wry smirk, shooting him a brief glance.
"Hmm, yes. As I said, I am not used to working with others." He gestured a hand forward. "By all means, proceed."
Janet let out a silent snort, still smirking, as she zoomed in to get a closer look at the images on the monitors. The smirk died as she comprehended what she was seeing. There were six rooms in all, all of them occupied. Two each were full of what appeared to be asari, salarians, and turians. They were all wearing outfits of plain coarse fabric, the salarians and male turians wearing only pants while the female turians and asari were wearing sack dresses. They were standing around idly, none of them sitting, nobody talking.
"It's slaving alright," she muttered, feeling a flush of anger run over her skin. "Looks like the same kind of setup the Snakes' Central Detention uses. Separated by gender except for the salarians."
"No," Dublo chimed in, his expression more unreadable than usual. "All of them are male. Ninety percent of salarians are male, the females usually remain cloistered on Sur'Kesh or other worlds, and become dalatrasses. Obtaining salarian females would not be a simple matter."
Janet nodded thoughtfully, mentally filing that datum away. "How do you want to do this?" she asked after a period of silence finally.
Dublo let out a small sigh, shaking himself mentally. "It would be too risky to free them as it is," he said reluctantly. "Besides, we should let the Council know about this."
"We can't just leave them there!" she whispered fiercely. "No person deserves to be left in their hands." She jarred herself inwardly as she realized what she had said. Well, yeah, I guess they are people. No matter what they look like. This trip was proving educational in several ways.
Dublo nodded after a moment. "I agree. Besides, it would be good to have more solid evidence before presenting our findings to the Council." Janet felt another inward jar as she noted the wording of 'our findings'. "But," the Spectre continued, "we alone are not enough to release them from their captivity."
"Then we'll need backup." Her head came up as she heard the unmistakable sound of the rovers returning and the garage door rolling up. She nodded towards the wire silently as she withdrew the optic cable and slid the device back into its compartment. Dublo stopped only to reactivate the window's sensors before following her back to the other roof. Janet reached down and hauled him up the last couple of feet.
"Backup should be no trouble," Dublo said as he dusted his hands together. "Didn't our guide say that there was gang trouble in this district?"
"Right, they've been trying to take over recently," Janet replied, nodding. "Think it's worth looking into?"
Dublo let his eyes swing back to the warehouse. "I don't believe we have much of a choice."