You need a dragon hidden inside you. When you need, you let the dragon out – Anderson Silva
Húdié dāo – [蝴蝶刀– Butterfly sword (knife in English)]
Inamorata – A woman with whom one is in love; a female lover (Italian)
Ionsaí – Strike, or attack (asari)
Liuyè dāo – Literally, willow leaf saber [柳葉軍刀]; short sword, continuously curved blade;
some of these swords feature a sharpened back edge from the tip back about a third of the 96.5 centimeter length.
Shuāng dāo – [雙 刀 – double knife]
Siame – "one who is all", a loved one cherished above all others (Thessian)
• ASARI CORVETTE IONSAÍ · AT LARGE, WIDOW SYSTEM •
Samantha Traynor talked with XO Shoni as the asari commando accompanied her to the hanger bay. "This shouldn't take too much time, Traeria. Buchanan is supposed to be waiting for me at the Alliance docks, along with the equipment we requested."
"Are you sure we cannot provide you with a shuttle, Serviceman Traynor?" Traeria Shoni's silver and copper-flecked eyes betrayed her concern for Traynor's well-being in the decade-old UT-47 she planned on using to retrieve the third member of their team.
"I appreciate your concern, Traeria, but we'll be fine, really. The exterior of that shuttle is as much a disguise as anything Xiùlán or I wear when we're on the ground. A lot of what you see … the rust and abraded paint, the dirt and apparent wear and tear, has all been carefully applied by Alliance Marines—artists in the application of equipment disguise—of camouflage. The important parts … the engines, eezo core, navi-computers and flight controls? … all modern, current production equipment. That shuttle is as new as anything coming off the assembly lines today."
Still not convinced, Shoni replied, "It doesn't appear to be safe, Serviceman."
Traynor smiled. "Unfortunately for Xiùlán and me, your opinion is shared by other members of the Ionsaí's crew." Chuckling, she added, "We had to ask several of them to stop attempting to clean the exterior."
The resulting look of horrified embarrassment on the asari's face caused Traynor to stop and place her hands on Traeria's shoulders. "XO Shoni! Do not be embarrassed by this! Your crew meant well, and there was absolutely no harm done." Samantha grinned. "They actually added a bit more authenticity to the camouflage—it looks as if an attempt was made to clean a pair of proximity sensors on the starboard side. Xiùlán cleaned the same pair on the port side to complete the illusion."
"Goddess! I am so sorry, Samantha. Our crewmembers all know better than to touch anything belonging to a guest on this ship."
"Traeria! Please! Do not trouble yourself over this. It is nothing." Traynor looked earnestly into the commando's eyes and waited until Shoni nodded her assent.
"Because you ask it of me, I will pursue this matter no further, Ms Traynor." Sam let go of her shoulders and resumed walking with her as she added, "It is strange … I have never been touched by a human before. Your hands … on my shoulders? You have a very solid grip, Ms Traynor. Are all human females so strong?"
"Not at all," Traynor giggled. "Xiùlán trained me in hand-to-hand combat. I have spent a lot of time in strength training, usually under higher gravity conditions than on Earth."
"How do you achieve higher gravity than standard?"
"I hack the environmental controls in the rooms I use," Traynor replied with a grin. "I was determined to put on as much muscle as possible in the shortest amount of time, so I increased the artificial gravity in whatever room I was using. Working out at one and a half to two times Earth normal builds muscle quite fast."
The asari paused to think about the bare-chested view she had gotten of Xiùlán, then asked, "So, your upper body … your arms? You must look very much like SC Yuán."
Traynor laughed at this. "I guess so."
They had entered the hanger while talking and came to a stop next to the shuttle that had sparked their conversation; Traeria looked the shuttle over as Traynor opened the portside hatch to enter. "I still don't like it, Samantha. It just doesn't look … safe."
Traynor smiled at the asari as she said, "Please, Traeria … call me Sam. My mother was the only one that ever called me 'Samantha', and then it was only when I was in some kind of trouble."
Shoni's face lit with a smile that crinkled the pale blue skin next to her eyes. "Okay … Sam. Give us a call when you touch down on the Citadel, okay?"
"I'll do it, Traeria. Be back soon." Sam closed the hatch and began her pre-flight checklist as Traeria retreated to the hanger entry.
She began powering up the decrepit looking shuttle's systems: inertial dampeners, navi-computers, turbo-fuel pumps, environmental pumps and impellers, ME generator … once everything was running to her satisfaction, Sam quickly decreased the shuttle's apparent mass with increased power to the ME core as she lit the four ventral thrusters to lift the shuttle from the deck. With fore and aft main thruster pods alight for positional stability, she eased the ungainly looking craft out of the Ionsaí's hanger; once clear of the ship, she turned and headed for the Citadel.
• ALLIANCE SECURE SPACE DOCKS, CITADEL · WIDOW SYSTEM •
Systems Alliance Operations Chief Griffen 'Griff' Buchanan was lounging in the transient hanger bay when Traynor brought the UT-47t in to touch-down beside a row of similarly decrepit shuttles. As the moaning whines from the pumps, ME generator and HVAC impellers spooled down to silence, Traynor popped the hatch and stepped onto the platform. Spotting Griff leaning against a bulkhead, she walked over to greet him.
"You leave that shuttle parked there any length of time, they'll sell it for scrap along with the rest of 'em there," he smirked.
Sticking out a hand, she snarked, "Then I hope they get a fair amount of creds for all the tech gear inside that thing." Letting go of his hand, she looked around at their feet. "Speaking of gear, where's yours?"
"In a locker close by. Didn't want to have it all lying out here in the open, even if this is a secure dock. My momma raised me to trust that people will be dishonest if given half a chance."
Sam looked over her shoulder at her ride. "Guess I better lock the doors on my ride back to the Ionsaí then, unless you're ready to go."
"Let's get a bite to eat, first. I'm not that big a fan of asari food."
Traynor hesitated, then said, "Okay. Let me send a message to the XO on the Ionsaí, then secure the shuttle."
• SMOKE HOUSE CAFÉ, CITADEL · WIDOW SYSTEM •
Buchanan and Traynor sat across from each other at a small table in a modest, human-centric restaurant a half-klick from the secure docks. As it was still mid-morning local time, they each ordered breakfast food, even though Sam had eaten a bit before departing the Ionsaí.
Traynor had her favorite—fried eggs with hash browns, accompanied by a 'meatless' bacon substitute, toast and a mug of hot tea, while Buchanan had a mug of coffee and a stack of waffles, which he smothered in what passed for maple syrup this far from Earth.
As they ate, Sam explained to Griff what she and Xiùlán had been doing the past several months—the search for an ancient asari figurine currently in the possession of the Blue Suns—and of how it was soon to be on its way to Cartagena Station.
"Research suggests getting to the shipping containers should be relatively easy there … the freight docks are not regularly patrolled by C-Pat, and overhead lighting is sparse … lots of shadows to hide in." Sam paused as she swirled a forkful of potatoes in the liquid egg yolks, placed them in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. "The main drawback for us will be C-Pat's members … their entire force is made up of batarians."
"Shit! That'll make it really difficult, since they can see heat signatures," Griff replied testily, as he used his fork to stab a couple of waffle chunks and put them in his mouth. "Personal cloaking devices are virtually useless."
She sipped her tea as she thought about the problem. "Exactly, but in an environment with a bunch of heat sources, like heavy machinery, it might be possible to remain undetected from the background heat sources, if you don't move."
Swallowing his mouthful and taking a swig of coffee, he grumped, "Damned lot of good it does to be there if you can't move about freely. The other problem with C-Pat is loyalty—as in, loyalty to creds—doesn't take much to buy them off, particularly if the person flashing the creds is a batarian member of the Blue Suns."
Traynor nodded her head in agreement. "Didn't mean to give the impression it'd be easy to get in and out, Chief. Once we're on board, we'll have to access the station's servers to get a map of the thing—I haven't been able to find any schematics or maps of the non-public areas—which we'll have to transit in order to remain beneath their notice."
Griffen grimaced as he shook his head. "We'll have to go in individually … arrive on three different ships, on different schedules, maybe even different days. Humans are in the distinct minority on that station, so three arriving together would surely be noticed." He paused, then added, "Xiùlán's facial features are sure to be remarked on."
"Perhaps, but if batarians remain true to form, the only thing they'll pay attention to on either of us will be our chests and our asses," Sam snarked. "Not even the C-Pat members would be able to identify us in a lineup."
Griff chuckled before finishing his coffee. "Surprised you didn't say anything about my face, Traynor."
"Aw hell, Service Chief … dress you down in some dirty ol' laborer clothing, you look like an older merc that decided to change vocations," Traynor said with a smirk. "That facial scar is a perfect disguise for you."
Griff laughed as he finished eating and drinking. "I guess you're right. Anyway, we should get going before your asari friends send out a search party for us."
Traynor finished her tea, smiled at Buchanan and stood up. "Grab your gear bags—I'll take us back to the Ionsaí."
• ILLIUM · TASALE SYSTEM, CRESCENT NEBULA •
Operations Chief Buchanan had been dropped off on Zorya in the Ismar Frontier, there to book passage to Omega via Cartagena Station as a cargo handler on a commercial freighter. After ferrying the big man to the colony capital of Thun, Samantha had returned to the Ionsaí so she and Xiùlán could get ready to depart the corvette aboard an asari shuttlecraft when they arrived in the Tasale system. Captain Agana T'Lori and her executive officer Traeria Shoni both cautioned that a pair of human females disembarking from an asari warship in the crown jewel of asari controlled colonies would be noticed by a great many people, not all of them friendly, particularly the Eclipse.
Eshela T'Saida flew the shuttle from the vicinity of the Tasalean Mass Relay to Illium and dropped Samantha and Xiùlán off near the commercial spaceport. Samantha would book a flight to Cartagena Station to leave the day after the flight Xiùlán would take, thus insuring the women would arrive a day apart; additionally, Xiùlán would arrive a few hours after Griff's scheduled arrival from Zorya, with Traynor arriving a day afterwards.
Xiùlán booked a flight on the MSV Celestial Challenger, a small freight hauler with modest passenger quarters; Traynor would be traveling on a similar ship, the MSV Ornate Quasar, scheduled to depart the day following Yuán's flight.
Traynor met Yuán for one final dinner before her scheduled departure. "You have everything you need, Siame?"
Xiùlán sighed as she used her chop sticks to shove some noodles into her mouth, held up a finger as she chewed and swallowed, then replied, "It's a bit late to ask that, don't you think? I brought everything I think I will need there, but realistically? I doubt I could bring enough weapons to make me feel comfortable. Since Griff will be flying as a cargo handler on a dedicated freighter, we have to trust that he can get all of our specialized gear onto that miserable excuse of a station without it being tagged as contraband."
Traynor took a sip of beer. "I really don't like this, Linn. We're going in blind, and we'll have to live off the land, so to speak. XO Shoni gave me a small frequency generator and booster that I can tie into the station's communications array; once triggered, it'll send an emergency extraction request on an SHF band that will be specifically monitored by the Ionsaí. They'll be standing by near the Tasale relay, so should be able to get to Cartagena station in less than half a day." Traynor took another sip from her glass as she thought about what they were about to do.
Xiùlán finished her bowl of noodles and remarked, "Probably the last good meal we'll be able to have for a while. Let's get out of here, get some rest. I have a feeling we'll be wishing for a nice bed before this little operation is over."
• CARTAGENA STATION, NEMEAN ABYSS •
A small freighter with passenger quarters, the MSV Celestial Challenger docked at one of three upper entrances to Cartagena Station. In addition to several turians, a salarian and a krogan, a very tall human female exited the ship as soon as docking clamps and seals were secure. After checking through a rudimentary customs inspection, the human pulled the hood of her knee length, black leather duster over her head, gathered her packs and strode briskly to the closest bar.
Surreptitiously looking around the dark confines as she entered The Whiskey Blue Alehouse, she mentally noted exits—there were three others in addition to the main door—and the number and species of the patrons—a salarian, two turians and a lone asari matriarch—amongst all the batarians seated at the several small tables scattered around the room. No one even spared her a glance as she flitted like a shadow in the dimly lit room; checking sightlines as she moved, she dropped her packs in an adjacent chair and settled with her back to the wall at a corner table, close by one of the rear exits, and waited.
A bored looking asari sauntered over and asked if she wanted a drink. "Scotch and soda," she responded, using the fingertip of her left hand to slide two credit chits across the table. The asari picked up the chits and walked off, returning in a few minutes with a tumbler full of bubbly amber liquid. "Not many humans come through here these days," she said in a conversational tone as she set the glass in the center of the table. "Batarians have scared 'em all off, I guess."
The woman picked the glass up with a black gloved hand, tentatively sipped and set the glass on the table.
Seeing that the human wasn't interested in casual conversation, she sauntered around the room to check on the other customers before ending up leaning on the bar, talking to the turian bartender.
The woman surreptitiously inspected everyone scattered around at the various tables. She continued to sip her drink, mentally noting the lack of alcoholic kick. Quickly polishing it off, she set the tumbler upside down in the middle of the table and motioned to the waitress. As she came up to the table, the human growled, "I want a refill, and this time don't water down the fucking scotch."
The asari was immediately on the defensive. "Ma'am, I can assure you …"
The woman held the empty glass up between thumb and two fingers as she spoke in a voice full of dark menace, "Don't try to bullshit me. You're watering down the booze so you can increase your percentage." The woman's head tilted up ever so slightly. "Now get your sweet little blue ass back to that bar and get me a proper drink."
The asari quickly left and speedily brought a second full glass and set it in the center of the table.
After taking a sip, the human nodded acceptance before turning slightly towards the waitress and saying, "So, not many humans here? I'm looking for one human in particular. Big sonuvabitch, slanted, greenish-gray eyes, dark hair, knife scar forehead to ear. Seen anyone like that?"
Wiping the table with a towel, she answered, "Kind of hard to miss, that one. Came through couple of hours ago off the MSV Platinum Lance, small freight hauler. Stopped in for a drink before moving on."
"Any idea which way … same level? … down? … up?"
"Actually said he was looking to meet someone." Pausing to think, she continued, "I believe he was heading to one of the freight transfer storage areas." Answering the unvoiced question, she continued with, "Sub-level three, section fourteen."
The gloved hand set another credit chit on the table before picking up the tumbler. She took another sip and said, "Thanks."
The asari picked up the credit chit and walked back towards the bar. The black-clad woman studied her from under her hood as the asari stopped to talk to the bartender; he in turn glanced in her direction before pushing back from the bar and disappearing behind the forward liquor storage cabinets. The asari glanced nervously at the entrance, then back in her direction before moving casually to the other end of the bar. Downing the rest of her drink, the hooded figure placed her upper teeth on her lower lip as she sucked air through them. Warning enough, she reasoned to herself.
In a matter of minutes, a batarian and a turian ambled through the main entrance, each dressed in the uniform of the Cartagena Patrol … C-Pat in local parlance … and walked up to the bar. After speaking to the bartender for a few seconds, they split up and began an approach to the corner table from either side.
With hands on the M-3 Predators clipped to their armor hardpoints, they stopped opposite each other at the table's edge, finding only an empty glass upside down in the center of the table. Yuán Xiùlán had already left through a rear exit.
The young woman in the black cloak had slipped out the nearest exit and walked purposefully down a dimly lit hallway as she listened for any noise behind her. Batarians eyesight made any attempt to use her cloaking device futile … their upper eyes were highly sensitive to heat signatures; something no personal cloak currently in production could completely eliminate.
Hearing no sounds behind her, she paused long enough to drop her gear bags and bring up a station map on her omnitool. Its use had to be kept to a bare minimum, as C-Pat would detect any extensive access of the station's VI. Finding the needed coordinates, she plugged them into her omni's memory, disconnected from the station's server, then activated the tracker that would take her unerringly to wherever Buchanan was located. She wasn't surprised to discover he was not in Sub-level three, section fourteen as the waitress had suggested. Bet the lying little bitch is on C-Pat's payroll! Slinging her bags over her shoulder, she continued down the passageway to its end, where a locked and sealed hatch to an elevator barred her way. Once more, she activated her omnitool, taking mere seconds to gain access to the car, which she boarded and rode to sub-level one.
Exiting the car, she strode into the passageway; it was only a few dozen steps before she encountered a nearby branching access passageway, which she took. Walking up to the door, she easily defeated the lock after a few moments; engaging her cloak, she slowly slid the door open and waited. The small office area was dark, with the first of several medium sized cargo areas just past another door set in the far wall. She moved only her eyes as she carefully inspected the walls and corners of the room. As expected, there was no sign of detection equipment; she eased her way past the threshold and towards the door on the opposite wall as she kept watching the windows on both sides for any sign of movement or discovery. Reaching the door without incident, she crouched beside it and tried releasing the latch; the door opened inward as she tugged at the release. Probably only locked from the outside. She made ready to stand and enter the first cargo area.
She carefully moved through two of the three cargo areas after leaving the small office behind. There were very few lights illuminating these compartments, something that certainly worked in her favor, as she silently moved past the exposed frames that formed each compartment's sub-structure. The man she was looking for, despite being told something entirely different in the Whiskey Blue Alehouse, was actually in the next compartment ahead … sub-level one, section four. She peered around a stack of containers into the next area. Dammit Griff, where the hell are you? she thought. Deciding she needed a better viewing angle, she activated her omnitool and touched two controls. Her micro mass-field generator came online, lowering her personal mass to that of a bird. While she wasn't floating, her lack of apparent mass made it much easier to jump unseen to the top of a 7-meter stack of shipping containers. Once on top, she turned the power-hungry generator off, as she didn't know when she'd be able to recharge its cells. Flattening herself to the top of the container, she crawled to the far side for a look into the next area.
Systems Alliance Operations Chief Griffen 'Griff' Buchanan was crouched outside the main entrance to the offices at the far side of the third freight storage area. He had been working his way through the warehouses, searching for containers from the Aquila System and had found five, all in this area of the three-section cargo warehouse; the item he was looking for was most likely in one of them. He was in the process of hacking the lock on the door when his omnitool clicked once. He took a quick look at the text and smiled.
Finishing with the lock, he sent a one-word answer to the text just received, then closed the tool and silently slid the door open as he engaged his personal cloak and waited.
One of the shadows at the end of this office block began to move slowly in his direction, seeming to ripple the air as the slight amount of ambient light distorted and reflected around the shadow. As the shadow drew near, it whispered a curse and his name, asking, "Dammit, Griff, when are you going to get some surgery to eliminate that scar?" The shadow stopped at the far side of the door and crouched. "It's the only thing I have to mention in order to jog people's memories."
Buchanan chuckled softly. "Made finding me easier, right? Besides, I'm told women find facial scars on men attractive. You don't agree?"
"I'm not a krogan, and men haven't been my thing for some time," she said in as snarky a tone as she could muster while whispering. "And I was misdirected. Little asari bitch in the Whiskey Blue Alehouse wanted me to go to sub-level three, section fourteen … long way down and halfway across the station from here. Makes me a bit suspicious." Looking around, she said, "Let's get inside."
"Hold on. Need to look for cameras or other bugs."
"None in the office I came through," she responded. "We do need to watch out for C-Pat, though … I believe they're totally owned by the Blue Suns."
Buchanan grunted in acknowledgement, then slowly moved just enough to look into the corners and ceiling visible from his side of the door opening; pulling back slightly, he waited for Yuán to inspect the side observable from her position.
"Camera," she whispered, "top center, left wall. Standby." Still in a crouched position, she rolled around to her left, presenting her back to the door in order to shield the ultraviolet glow of her customized Savant manufactured omnitool. She entered several commands, the last of which set the camera to show a continuous display of this office as it was the minute before the chief slid the door open. To anyone in the C-Pat security office, the time stamp and date on the monitors would continue to increment, but that would be the only accurate portion of the picture, as the monitored area would appear dark and empty. "Go," she hissed.
Griff slid into the room and took a combat stance as he waited for Yuán. Sensing her presence behind him, he relaxed slightly and decloaked, turning around in time to see Yuán reappear as well.
"Here's a terminal. Just have to …" she trailed off as she activated her omnitool and hacked the terminal, instructing it to sever its ties to the station's server. "Now I can access the database for this warehouse area without alerting every four-eyed asshole on the station. What am I looking for?"
As a freight handler on the MSV Platinum Lance, Griff had monitored the shipping container full of equipment the three of them needed in support of this mission. If they couldn't retrieve the asari artifact from this station, seven months of work and thousands of credits invested by Asari High Command would be for nothing. "Container number is RFm-ØAzKn-751—should be in this warehouse, out towards the main cargo entry."
"Okay … let me …" Xiùlán terminated the program she was using, allowing the terminal to return to its rotating Cartagena Freight Forwarding logo. Engaging her cloak, she said, "Let's go get our stuff."
Of the three connected areas of these freight holding/forwarding warehouses, the one Xiùlán and Griff found themselves in was of moderate size; 14 meters wide by 10 meters deep, with a clear-span height of 10 meters, temporarily home to thirty-three 3 meter long by 2 meter wide by 2.5 meter high standard shipping containers, each stacked three high. A kinetic barrier at the rear of the section in which they found themselves formed an invisible wall, behind which another twenty-four containers were stacked in long-term storage in two warehouses—these would not be of any interest to the Alliance agents.
A double kinetic barrier at the main entry kept the warehouse pressurized against the vacuum outside—it was between this barrier and the stacks of thirty-three containers where they expected to find their weapons pod in a container 180 by 100 centimeters—there were fifteen or sixteen of these scattered haphazardly on the decking, all within sight of the office they had just vacated.
With both of them inspecting the small pods, it took only a few moments to find RFm-ØAzKn-751. Griff's plan was to retrieve their pod from inside the container and stash it on top of one of the twenty-four container stacks in long-term storage at the very rear. As a practical matter, neither of them could move through the mid-warehouse barrier without injury, so Griff energized his own ME generator along with the tiny ME generator for the pod. Moving to the top of the first stack, Buchanan waited as Xiùlán tossed the near weightless container up to him; he then moved the container towards the rearmost stack.
In the meantime, Xiùlán had run between the containers and warehouse wall to the control console, where she dropped the barrier just as Buchanan jumped over to the first container. Once inside warehouse one, Griff pushed the container to the very rear as Xiùlán set a five-second delay and re-energized the kinetic barrier before energizing her own ME generator and quickly joining him atop the container stack.
After taking a quick inventory of their equipment, Xiùlán elected to leave her shotgun behind, fearing being caught with it before Sammy joined them. "Don't want it confiscated by C-Pat before we get started here. I have my shuāng dāo [雙 刀 – double knife] strapped to my boots and a Liuyè dāo on my back." With a grim smile, she continued, "You hear of any sliced-up batarians being discovered, you'll know who to blame."
Buchanan chuckled and shook his head. "The pair of you? Out of my league, totally. I've heard tales of how you go at each other in what you euphemistically refer to as training. Surprised you haven't managed to kill each other."
"Sammy's my whole life, Chief … couldn't hurt her if I wanted to. You should have seen her when we met … she's come further, achieved more in the nearly two years we've been together than most people ever dream of. And she's taught me so much. Nearly lost her to batarian pirates in the Dis system, Chief. I never want to feel that kind of pain again." A haunted look briefly passed across Xiùlán's face, replaced by her normally impassive mask almost before Buchanan could be sure of what he'd seen. He was sure in his mind that this woman would do anything for Traynor … even die for her. "How would you refer to Traynor and yourself, Yuán? … I mean, as soldiers?"
"We're Yincáng de lóng, [隱藏的龍] that is to say, Hidden dragons. We have to perform assignments too risky or politically sensitive for traditional specialists, and we have to be ready to act aggressively … to complete our missions and protect ourselves and each other."
"Is that how you got involved in doing the dirty work for the asari?"
"I don't consider it dirty work, Griff. It's clandestine, to be sure, but the asari don't train for this type of recovery. Their commandos are adept at ambush, infiltration, and assassination. I myself trained with an asari commando … Aglyna T'Sega. Would have killed her with an omni-blade up through her vitals if her handler hadn't slapped me with a stasis field." Xiùlán looked down for a moment and frowned at the memory. "I consider her a friend, now … we learned a great deal from each other. It was a rewarding experience."
Lights began to come on in the darkened warehouse and offices. "Dayshift's getting started," Griff observed. "We need to hunker down somewhere close by until Sammy arrives." Buchanan checked his chrono and added, "Another eighteen hours, anyway. "Better get out of here … go book a room for a bit until Traynor arrives." Xiùlán picked up her gear bags and with a nod, turned to follow Buchanan out of the warehouses.
• TEN HOURS LATER •
The MSV Ornate Quasar was within fifteen minutes of arriving at the lower freight unloading docks to Cartagena Station. Seated alone next to a viewport, Samantha Traynor appeared to be watching the operation outside the ship's hull with rapt attention; in reality, she was surreptitiously sending a text to Xiùlán, who had already been aboard the station for nearly ten hours, seven to eight of that with Operations Chief Buchanan. With her torso turned away from the center aisle, the deep purple glow of Traynor's omnitool was hidden from view by anyone casually passing her seat.
Xiùlán had sent Sammy their location—sub-level one, section four—along with a warning that the station's security forces, which were primarily populated by batarian mercenaries with only an official station uniform tagging them as not quite pirates, were decidedly not friendly to humans, of either gender.
Traynor smiled at this. Batarians as a race had been unfriendly towards humans since the early 2160s, due to ongoing efforts by humans to colonize the Skyllian Verge, a region batarians were already settling. Interactions between the two species continued to deteriorate until the attack on Elysium in 2176. The Alliance retaliation against the batarian-backed staging base on the moon of Torfan in 2178 caused the batarians to retreat into their own systems. To have Xiùlán tell her batarians on the station were unfriendly towards humans was certainly not news to Samantha.
The slight bump and sounds of machinery grinding from below and astern interrupted her musings; the Ornate Quasar had docked. She carefully rose from her seat to fish around in the overhead lockers for her two shoulder packs. Making sure the hood of her dark grey leather cloak was pulled well over her head, she waited for the salarian and the batarian that had been seated behind her to exit the craft ahead of her; they followed several turians and a massive krogan, merc by the looks of him, that had been seated ahead of her.
As she set foot on the platform outside the ship's deployed passenger ramp, she looked around while queuing up for a customs inspection. Since there was nothing in her packs but clothing, she was held up only briefly before being allowed to enter the main lobby on this level. The area had the look of a place that had once been a bright spot for people landing here from darker places in the Traverse … in the decades since this station had been constructed, this grand concourse for people of all races had become dark and dingily oppressive. Cleanup appeared to be hit and miss, and there were more than a few former storefronts covered in sheets of grey polystyrene, adding to the decrepit atmosphere.
A small bar named La Botella y Casque [The Bottle and Casque] beckoned, but she decided a drink would have to wait; she wanted nothing more than to join up with Griff and Xiùlán, find and retrieve the asari artifact and get the hell off this station in one piece. Standing outside in the poorly lit grand entryway to the station, Samantha energized her omnitool briefly in order to display a map of the service ways—passages within the station that served as shortcuts for station employees to use in order to move around with relatively few restrictions. The electronic trackers for the two people she needed to meet would lead her to the warehouses where they were now waiting.
She moved in an apparently random manner, staying in the shadows as much as practicable while appearing to simply be window shopping at the few stores along the way that deigned to display some of what was for sale within. As she approached the passageway she needed to use, she used her omnitool to hack the sealed hatch from several meters away; reaching the now unlocked door, she placed the wrist wearing her omnitool within the glowing red haptic interface, causing two segments of the door to retract. She quickly stepped through, entering the dimly lit passage as the door segments returned to their fully closed position and relocked behind her.
She placed an infrared viewfinder in front of her eyes and energized it, the faint amber glow the only indication she was wearing the device. Looking intently down the length of the deserted passageway, she could just detect the doorway at the far end. Hearing no sounds of alarm ahead or behind, she hurried down the passageway, pausing at the door long enough to again bring up a station map on her omnitool. Once through the door, she turned down a nearby branching passageway and walked until it too ended at a door. Engaging her cloak, she slowly slid the door open and waited, half expecting alarms to begin sounding.
Checking the locators on her omnitool, she knew Griff and Xiùlán were close by. She eased herself through the door in a crouch and took a look around; the stacked cargo containers standing out somewhat from the rest of the space. Towards her left, the massive opening to the storage area stood out for its utter blackness, the 2.65 degrees Kelvin temperature of interstellar space overpowering the puny amount of heat available inside. The two humans waiting for her near the far stack of containers stood out as near solid white against the background of space.
She de-energized her cloak and infrared viewfinder as she walked up to them; Xiùlán was quite glad to see her. "Any trouble finding us?"
"Just had to follow your trackers … which you probably ought to turn off for now." Traynor got right to the business at hand. "Have you located the pods?"
"Haven't had a chance yet," Griff replied. "Found our equipment pod. Better get your weapons."
Traynor smirked as she responded, "Got my pistol. My omnitool produces ceramic blades, and …" she pulled the hem of her long jacket aside, revealing the mirror-polished, exquisitely wrought silver handguard, hilt and blade deflector of what was obviously more than a simple boot knife. "I have my Húdié shuāngdāo." [蝴蝶雙刀 – Butterfly knives]
Buchanan chuckled as he shook his head. "What in hell is it with you two and the blade weapons? Seriously, I think we went through a time tunnel somewhere along the line, wound up back in sixteenth-century China. You're a couple of dangerous women!"
Xiùlán smiled. "Things were certainly much simpler back then."
Traynor nodded in agreement as she replied, "Do we have a safe place to stash the pod, Griff? Someplace where we can return to it if we need to?"
"It's on top of one of the rearmost stacks of containers in long-term storage, back of this warehouse. Map shows it as warehouse number one."
"Okay," Traynor answered. "Once we're done in this area, perhaps we need to move it. Let's find those shipping containers."
Without a word Buchanan turned and walked into the small office where Xiùlán had hacked a terminal to locate their equipment pod; Griff slid into the room and took a combat stance as Traynor and Xiùlán entered behind him. Traynor moved to the terminal Xiùlán had previously hacked and smiled approvingly at the way in which her lover had configured it. "Nice job!" she said with a smirk. "Looks like something I might have done." Traynor sat in front of the terminal, entered several queries, then entered the numbers—002180084224 and 002180084346, both discovered in the freight yards of Illium—for each of the shipping containers they had since been tracking.
The terminal responded with copies of the manifest for each, listing the contents by name, type and quantity; there were no single items in either of the containers. Traynor cross-checked the shipping containers against each other, and discovered each one was recorded as carrying an identical item, listed as JANIRI, RELIC, FIGURINE, ONE (1) "Looks like we'll have to check containers 002180084224 and 084346 for this relic," Traynor said. "Each container lists the one item inside, when our intel says there is only one, period. So, are there a total of two of these things, or is there really only just the one? Probably listed this way so two containers have to be checked to find the damned thing."
"What's so important about this thing anyway?" Buchanan asked. "If it's a stolen artifact, shouldn't the asari military be all over this? They all have biotics, for craps sake." Buchanan whispered. "Either of you know how much batarians hate humans? We get caught screwing around down here, C-Pat'll have a field day torturing us."
Traynor heard the faint trilling of an alarm of some sort; she looked at Griff as she closed the terminal, reconnected it to its server and replied, "Oh, we know all about batarians and their love for humans. I don't intend to get caught by these bastards, Chief. Move! Now! Into the warehouse, far side, where we have room to operate."