THE SHADY

UNLISTED OMEGA ANNEX

TERMINUS PIRATE MOORING

OMEGA NEBULA

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGED, no matter where you were from – especially pirates and their hangouts. This one was no different, and most eyed her as she came in, but no one bothered her – at least not yet. Her drink was appropriately toxic, and she sipped it sparingly. Following the trail from Ramnageo led her here, but so far, there had been no trace of the Pathosis anywhere she'd been on this rock, but that could change at any time. Using the Relays slowed it down considerably, as it could use them only as a Vector - surprisingly it's most vulnerable stage - even if it were also its most deadly.

None of the Pandemonia, either, but those bastards could be anywhere. They showing up was only a matter of time. She couldn't be sure if they'd followed her, but it would be unlike them to not notice her gone.

She had to keep reminding herself of just where she was, especially when the group of asari getting drunk in the corner kept drawing attention to themselves with their laughing and singing some ancient asari ditty. When a pair of them danced drunkenly by her, and one stopped to stare a moment, it was all she could do to keep her instincts in check and not attack.

Not these asari, she told her herself. These were seeded stock, not original. Besides, she hadn't seen a single Prothean yet, and no self-respecting asari went far without one. In a dark corner, by himself, she spotted a quarian, wondered what he was doing so far outside his own space, especially with asari around, again admonished herself that here, quarians were not the same.

The turian in the corner kept staring at her too, and the small biotic ball that she flicked across the room and through his glass, to smash it and spray his drink all over his face was her way of telling him to cut it out. Perhaps it had been a smidge vindictive, but she'd never admit to it. She could see him get angry as he sputtered and made to rise…

…just as the whump of a distant explosion cut through the din. Weapons were snatched and brains sobered in a hurry as another followed, a bit closer. The next was preceded by a stuttering tick-tick sound and the explosion was much closer, rattling the walls of the prefab building that passed as a pub.

She had wondered when he was going to show up. Another explosion rocked the entire building and blew the doors open and three windows out, followed by two turians and a batarian bodily riding the shockwave.

"It's the Alliance!" someone yelled, and the pirates in the pub ran for it – some out the door, some out the back. Still sitting calmly, she sipped her drink and waited. There was some intermittent gunfire that quickly died away and then silence.

The man stepped into the pub like he owned it, stopped in the doorway to survey the interior, glare at those who had either been too drunk, scared or both to leave, until his eyes found her. Clad in his black armor, his usual five weapons strapped to him, he cut a formidable figure. Smoke swirled off his armor and around his feet. His presence seemed to precede him, and she could feel it from across the place. His eyes were pale in the gloom, cold and emotionless. He'd taken another step when someone yelled from behind him, and in one fluid motion, he'd turned, intercepted the two metre Hevt'ek sword of the batarian pirate, pulled him into the room, over his shoulder and slammed his omniblade through him. The sword he picked up, examined briefly and dropped on the now-dead alien.

"It's not the Alliance," he muttered at the corpse. "Whatever that is."

"As entrances go, that was pretty good." She told him, kicking a chair out from the table as he neared. He simply looked at her with a slight twitch of his lips on that granite face and pulled the chair toward him, sat. It creaked under him.

"They attacked the instant they saw me. I suppose some things stay true no matter where you go."

She nodded.

"That may just be you. You seem to invoke that in certain segments of any given population."

"And you get around, Captain." The voice was like a knife across a whetstone. He set his Valkyrie on the table, pulled a small tool from his belt, to adjust some screw she couldn't see. After that, he tapped a switch, which slid the rear stock open, and he ejected the powercell, tucked it into a pouch. Another went smoothly in. She wondered how curious the pirates around her would be if they knew this Valkyrie used neither thermal clips nor a cooldown system, but high-density plasma cells infused with microscopic flecks of razor-edged metal instead. She had tapped into local nets and knew of the ongoing war against the husk creatures left behind by the ancient Machines. Produce that Valkyrie en masse, and those husks would quickly be a distant, albeit unpleasant memory.

"The Machine Cycles are over. They've released the Pathosis."

His eyes narrowed.

"The Resumption." She nodded. The slaughter, she sighed to herself, tired by the mere thought, was just beginning.

"Inevitable. Any Pandemoniacs?"

"I tracked a Dispersal to this area of space, but so far nothing."

"They're going to complicate matters."

"They won't be in force yet." He eyed her for a moment, gauging, weighing the variables.

"Your opinion?" He asked her, going back to adjusting his gun.

"So far, I destroyed a major Infestation on Ramnageo. The Pandemonia can't be allowed to help it spread. There's no denying it, however. The Pathosis is here. I suggest we find high-level operatives, make them aware of the situation and attempt damage control. It might also be worthwhile to find some human authorities and offer them one or more of our weapon blueprints. It would help with our credibility and we can at least give the Marked a fighting chance."

He stowed his rifle, gave her a skeptical look. A glance out a window showed a few pirates moving around to the back. She nodded slightly, indicated more heading around the other side.

"It's hard to believe." A small shrug from her. She knew that. A few more pirates tried to "nonchalantly" enter the pub to take up positions.

"The Pandemonia… their insanity will just add to the chaos. They need to be a priority." The Pandemonia was... a force. An entire Repository that seemed to exist to do solely the will of one man. They believed the Pathosis was literally Divine Will, and that one man its single voice. Neither of them believed there was anything remotely divine about that particular brand of madness.

"Agreed, but we can't do anything until they show. Vex scanned a few reports of some odd ship movements around Machine hulks, but it's nothing conclusive, either. If they take over salvage and recovery teams they can grab all the ships they need."

"Vex?"

"My ship's AI. I got an upgrade."

"Oh."

"So... they're targeting salvage and containment teams?"

"Nothing definite. But, it'll certainly help with Dispersal if they can infiltrate major sites." He rubbed his chin.

"It'll just make everyone paranoid if we include them in our 'coming-out'."

"No choice. Better a little paranoia than wholesale slaughter. This space has already had more than its fair share."

"You know we can only slow the Pathosis."

"Slowing it gives more people better chances to get out of its way."

"You're an idealist." His voice held nothing but disdain for the concept. She wondered if he'd ever had anything other than nightmares.

"Being cynical makes me tired." He didn't smile, and she pondered whether his face would even allow one.

"You manage to access any local 'nets? Seen any news?" She asked him, finishing her drink, not remotely concerned as the numbers against them grew.

"I think 'clusterfuck' wouldn't be inappropriate." He rolled his shoulder. "I've seen your counterpart. She's …different, to say the least." He told her offhandedly. She seemed unperturbed by that news.

"I've seen her." So alike, so indeed radically different. She wished she had time to investigate, but things never worked that way. "And yours. Interesting paths 'we've' taken, no?" She rose, he followed. She indicated that they'd be surrounded. He'd noticed.

"That's one way to look at it. Any suggestions as to contacts?" The Captain nodded out the blown-open doors to the crowd of armed pirates gathering. He raised an eyebrow.

"I think it would be easier," she smiled, the mesh on her armor going blue, "for them to find us."

The Commander smiled – if one could call the grim slash that bent his lips up ever-so-slightly a smile, and pulled his Valkyrie, his eyes going flat. "The Human Wrecking Machine" was about to go to work. She was no slouch in that arena herself.

"Best not keep them waiting then," he told her. He took the front and she the group in the back.

Neither group knew what hit them.