Chapter 17
Marooned on Omega

Shepard awoke to the dull roar of ancient machines grinding away on some precarious job that no organic wanted to do. He looked around the escape pod and found the harness release. As the harness retracted, gravity came in full effect, and Shepard found himself on the floor. It took a moment for him to come back to his senses, but he was able to stand on his feet and get his bearings. He opened the pod door and stepped weakly onto the metal flooring of the mined-out asteroid.

Omega. The end of all things. Never had a better name been selected for a place. At one time, the station had been a booming industrial center. But more than a hundred years of neglect and gang wars turned the asteroid into one of the most undesirable places to go in the entire galaxy. Unless you were a criminal, that is.

Omega had no titled ruler, as far as the Alliance knew. Its funders were all private corporations, trying to squeeze the last piece of usable resources from the station before pulling out. Gangs were free to run rampant, crime after crime committed with no one to stop them except other gangs, who would most likely only fight them to better advanced their own plans. The Alliance rarely made patrols around here, even with their attempts to expand into the Terminus systems.

A sharp intake of breath interrupted Shepard's thoughts. He turned around to see Riley crawling out of the escape pod, clutching his wounded leg. "Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Shepard stepped over to him and picked him up, slinging his arm over his shoulder. "Come on," he said. "We can't stay here."

Riley tried to push him away. "Fuck off," he snarled. "I don't need any help from you.

Shepard almost smiled. His bravado was almost commendable, but Shepard fully intended to keep him alive at least long enough to stand trial. Sighing, he dropped Riley with no amount of care, noting the injured party's pained expression. Grumbling to himself, he pulled a medi-gel pack out of the pod and applied just enough to stop the bleeding. He didn't want Riley running off, after all.

Shepard's plan, obviously noticed by Riley, earned him a glare from the wounded soldier. Shepard again picked him up, moving him out of the street before the gangs showed up looking to salvage the pod. The Alliance wasn't exactly welcome here, and any chance to kill a soldier, CSec officer, or politician was too good for any lowlife to pass up.

Sure enough, as soon as Shepard and Riley were safely off the street, a small group of scavengers, batarian and vorcha, by the looks of them, moved to the pod and began to tear it apart. "It's Alliance, alright," a batarian spoke.

One vorcha piped up suddenly. "Rahr! No good salvage! Garm lie to us!"

"You want to say that to his face?" The batarian sneered. "Go right ahead. I won't stop ya."

"Rahr! You trick me! Make me die! I kill you first!" With that, the vorcha leapt onto the batarian and dug his teeth into his shoulder. The batarian howled in pain before his fellow scumbags shot the vorcha, killing him.

The batarian pushed the vorcha's corpse off of him and stood up. "Blasted vorcha," he muttered.

"Give it a rest, Moklan," another batarian chimed in before passing a medi-gel pack to him. Shepard groaned inwardly for not grabbing the rest. "Patch yourself up and let's get going. Escape pods aren't going to get much that's useful."

"Think it has something to do with that explosion just outside the asteroid field?" A krogan asked.

"You figure that out on your own?" the unnamed batarian chuckled.

The krogan growled and took a step forward. "Don't. Insult. Me," he threatened in a low voice.

Rather than looking afraid, the batarian looked annoyed. He quickly pulled out his shotgun and slammed it into the krogan's face. "And don't forget whose turf you're on, Weyrloc. Your clan leader has no say on Omega, and neither do you."

The krogan rubbed his head, grumbling something about "damn batarians" and stomped along with the rest of the scavenging party back to wherever they came from. Just as they were out of range, Shepard's omni-tool activated. "Shepard," Callus said in a hushed voice.

Placing his hand to his ear, Shepard answered, "I'm here, Orion."

"Where the hell are you?"

Shepard took a moment to survey his surroundings before answering. "Looks like one of the few industrial zones left on Omega. The machines down here still work."

"I hear them. You must be a level or so below us. I'd get out of there before the gangs show up."

"A few already did."

"Then get your ass out of there. We need to find a way off this rock."

Shepard agreed, though he didn't say it. Hollister had Anderson, and Shepard didn't have time to wait around. "We need to find a place to meet up," he said.

"How's the local nightclub sound?"

"Public. Not that it'll matter here, but it's as good a place as any."

"I'll send you the coordinates."

The two disconnected the call, and Shepard picked up Riley and steadied him. "Easy, Sergeant," he ordered.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Riley demanded.

"Hollister took Commander Anderson. You're going to tell me where they went."

Riley scoffed. "And why in the hell would I do that?"

Shepard, now growing annoyed with Riley's attitude, dropped him again and stepped on the wound. "Because if you don't," he replied menacingly, ignoring Riley's shout of pain, "I'll shoot you in the other leg and leave you here for the gangs to chew up and spit out."

"Alright, alright! Get the fuck off me!" Shepard relented, and Riley sat up slowly. "Akuze," he said in a pained voice. "Cerberus has a base on Akuze. Hollister's in charge of it."

Shepard froze. Akuze? Of all the places in the galaxy, Hollister had to go to fucking Akuze? The memories began flooding back to him, making him stumble a bit as he continued to move forward, trying to find a way to the next level of the hell-hole that was Omega.

Moving as quickly as possible while trying to avoid the gangs of the seedy side streets of Omega, Shepard and Riley finally got to a bit more hospitable part of the station, using the loosest possible definition of the word "hospitable". Shepard noticed the nightclub Callus had mentioned and moved toward it, dragging Riley along with him. As the doors opened, the duo bumped right into a young woman with a buzz cut and great deal of makeup. "Watch it, asshole!" she spat as she shoved past him and stormed off.

Inside, Callus motioned for Shepard and Riley. Joker was nearby, arguing with a batarian guard. "Where's the rest of the crew?" Shepard asked.

"Found a shuttle and got them off the station, but I heard there was an unaccounted for escape pod and figured I should stay and help them too."

Shepard nodded. "Appreciate it. And Joker?"

"I uh, 'persuaded' him to stay and help." When Shepard raised his eyebrows, Callus explained. "Most of the military-trained crew died on the Kennedy. I didn't have a lot of options." He noticed Riley hanging from Shepard's arm. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll live. The bleeding's stopped."

"I've got more medi-gel if-"

"No," Shepard replied sharply. At Callus' quizzical look, he shook his head. "I'll explain later," he simply replied.

Callus shrugged at Shepard's vague answer and motioned for Joker to come back to the group. "The nearest port is a few clicks away. We need to get there soon, before the gangs decide we're too good an opportunity to pass by."

Shepard agreed, and the quartet set off, moving back into the streets of Omega. As they moved, Shepard found his kind wandering, the events of the past few weeks racing through his mind. The assassination, the leads, the battle of the Kennedy... now things were coming to a head, and he needed to do whatever it took to finish this. He'd get to Akuze. He'd find the commander. And he'd kill Hollister, put an end to this madness.

But first, they had to get off this rock.