Pt. 4 Prejudices
1600 Hours, Sunday, March 8, 2167 / Omega Station, Sahrabarik, Omega Nebula / 19 years, 2 months, 15 days Pre Reaper invasion of Earth
For years I had practiced the art of gauging the values and codes others asserted themselves to live by. What lines people would, and could, and would not cross; and how to press those boundaries.
Father had made sure I perfected this form of observation- both unintentionally and purposefully.
Inadvertently, he had made me automatically suspicious of anyone's integrity. No matter how many supposed morals an individual possessed, I found the possibility that anyone was inherently good extremely unlikely. There would always be the occasional scumbag willing to sell out their closest friend for the sake of their own skin, blatantly make inappropriate advances on someone too young to even legally obtain a driver's license, or murder their own flesh and blood. Simply put, I believed that for the right price or presented with the perfect opportunity; a sizable portion of the galaxy could be bought or cajoled into betraying principle. Some would even do it willingly- eagerly.
But, there were morals. Granted, most were aligned with and based on the sociological, cultural norms of the environment people were bred into and associated with as they grew. That key bit was something very important to be aware of when it came to dealing with dozens of alien species with hundreds of different cultures and customs. Sometimes, implementing them even kept me alive.
Alas, there were still many that defined their own system of rights and wrongs, and drew a very hefty line where those virtues were never to be breached.
I soon learned that Oleg Petrovsky was one of these people.
On one of our first assignments together, we had made a trip to Omega to track down an Alliance Science Officer that had turned traitor. Rumor had it, she was planning to sell more than humanity's secrets to none other the than the batarian hegemony. An advanced biochemist well versed in building bio weapons, had developed a knack for making people disappear over the past few weeks. And the evidence we had racked up across the Terminus Systems was more than implicating. When we finally did trace her last known destination, we were two steps ahead.
Apart from the duration of my temporary stay on Illium, I had never really been beyond the Attican Traverse- outside of Alliance or Council Space. While Illium had been a pearl of asari society with culture and class, Omega was grotesque. The grooves of my boots would stick to the unidentifiable substances spilled across the metal ground with every step I took, those that were too lazy to find a trash shoot had taken up to littering and forming piles of garbage in alleyways and on sidewalks, vagrants and drunkards were just as common outside of bars and dives as they were in residential areas, and the stenches- ignored by air control- were nauseating. All of the scenic marvels were enough to almost overlook the intriguing architectural feat of an entirely functional space station built into the side of an asteroid.
"This is Omega?" I scoffed a few minutes after we had wandered through the docking bay. Merchants hustled new arrivals along the catwalks into buying what I assumed to be stolen goods, and I had to physically shove my way past a few. Some even sent out wide-eyed young children in hopes of manipulating newcomers with pity.
"Not what you were expecting?" Petrovsky asked curiously as he lurked steadily beside me.
"I expected pirates, vagabonds. But, this," I gestured distastefully at the flowing crowds. I had anticipated the Terminus Systems to be a region of space filled with outlaws and the lawless. That it was mostly a dangerous frontier where only the desperate or criminal ventured. "This is such a pisshole. Maybe I gave them a little too much credit thinking they'd live somewhere a bit more...respectable."
Amusement flickered behind Petrovsky's stoic hazel eyes. "You're not in Sydney anymore, kid."
"I think I realized that, thanks." I glared sharply, though he paid me no mind.
I detested the fact that he referred to me as a child. Granted, since the onslaught of puberty at the age of twelve, my physical growth rate had slowed tremendously to a permanent trudge. Father had created a living time capsule, a permanently youthful spectacle. A bloody statue. By my estimates, my body aged at relatively 0.528 times that of an average human being. Which meant that I would not even be thirty until the chronological age of forty-six standard Earth years. At the time of my Cerberus recruitment, I could have passed for a fourteen year old only if I was lucky. Thankfully, to those with the proper amount of entrepreneurial motivation, age meant little, and mentally and emotionally, I was well beyond my years.
Age meant something to Petrovsky, however. There were two types of people he would never allow any harm to come to: innocent civilians and children. It was part of his moral code. And, at times, I could visually observe the war- over whether I was a child to keep safe, or a lethal, vital asset to utilize- raging in his altogether serenely confident eyes. But, my mentor was a smart man. So, he would keep his opinions out of the way of Cerberus' goals, and do as the Illusive Man instructed. Which meant training me properly in espionage, tactics, combat, reconnaissance, and so on.
Not to say that it didn't give us our fair share of problems throughout the beginning of our partnership.
"Oleg Petrovsky," An asari greeted cooly- without turning to face us-in the middle of the seediest night club I thought I would ever see. The platform we stood on was heavily guarded, elevated above the rest of Afterlife as though whoever stood there was to be greatly admired, and the asari that prowled in front of the couch- with everyone beneath her- stood with her back to us. Like a queen in her throne room.
We approached Aria T'Loak on the matter at hand. I had been briefed on the de facto pirate queen before Oleg took me to see her. Relatively a century's worth of commando experience under her belt, she was reportedly ruthless, possessive, mistrustful, and a tireless opportunist. She had an entire station defense force under her iron fist, and she made a show of pointing out that she was not to be trifled with. Though Cerberus had no significant influence over Omega- in the short time the organization existed- we had developed a mutually beneficial relationship of turning the other cheek when it came to dealing with one another's operatives. Unless, of course, any of her dealings ever put humanity in harms way. Thankfully, it never really came to that.
"Aria," Oleg gave a courteous smile as a gruff batarian halted our ascent up the stairs and ran an omni-tool scan over us, examining for any extensive weaponry or wires.
I kept my face expressionless when it was my turn. Paranoid. Everyone here is carrying a sidearm. But, understandable if you haven't got anyone you can trust completely.
"They're clean." The batarian informed his boss, and she rotated her head to Petrovsky with a malicious grin upon her violet features.
"How amusing to have you back on my station. What has Cerberus gotten its slippery little paws into this time that's made you stray so far from home?" The inflection of her voice was equally as condescendingly entertained as it was suspicious.
"We're on a hunting trip," Petrovsky volunteered with a polite smile.
"Why else would the Illusive Man unleash his tracking hounds?" Humor flickered in Aria's steely, calculating blue eyes. Nonchalantly, she made a one-eighty, folded her arms across her chest, and dismissed the nonessential staff in the booth- mainly the dancers. She still erected herself two steps above us, but I could tell that height was certainly not what caused so many to fear her. Overall, she was petite with a minute frame, unusual facial markings skirted across her cheeks and forehead- reminiscent of eyebrows. But, her shoulders were drawn back, her head held high, and a permanent glare had molded itself across her expression. Aria radiated arrogance. "Omega is as good a place to start as any, but you're going to have trouble if you don't narrow your search down to what- or who- specifically."
"We're not here to cause you any problems, Aria," Petrovsky reassured.
"I know that. Your master isn't going to send out his precious pets to break our deal so frivolously. That would be stupid. But," She tilted her head sideways in my direction ever so slightly. "It does seem a little dense to send out such a dainty, youthful breed to such a dark, dangerous place."
"This is Miranda Lawson," Petrovsky's voice emitted a trace of pride, but I was extremely hesitant to believe it was genuine. In the long run, I was his designated assignment, not his dedicated protege. "She's one of our most intelligent and capable operatives."
"We'll see," She surmised. "Still, that doesn't explain why you're here, Oleg- wasting my valuable time."
Her callous method of mentioning the Illusive Man was definitely irritating, and I felt a spark of defensive loyalty. My boss was a good man, he was not a ruthless cult leader that heedlessly threw his employees into anything they couldn't handle. He truly cared about his people, and was willing to make sacrifices for us. We were not his minions, or slaves. We were given freewill, opportunity, and he trusted our judgement. The Illusive Man deserved better.
"There's an Alliance traitor that either already has made, or is going to make a stop on your station. The trail goes cold here. I figured you might be interested in exchanging some information on her."
"Omega is crawling with scabs and vermin from around the galaxy. Your race included. So, tell me why I should care about one of humanity's fuck ups?"
"You won't have to care. Not unless you let us clean up her mess, and get her off your station before it's too late."
Aria narrowed her eyes in contemplation. Obviously, she knew something, but resiliently groped for the information we had. "Too late to stop a slave trade?"
"Slavery isn't the half of it." I muttered, folding my arms across my chest.
For the first time, Aria turned her penetrating stare on me, and I matched it. Sizing me up, her voice was still amused. "It's not?"
"No, it isn't." I answered firmly.
"Interesting." Aria grasped her chin, and wandered back to the ledge to overlook the dance floor.
Petrovsky added, "Her name is Anya Nagano. If you have any information on her, that would be helpful."
"There's a docking slip booked in her name for the Blue Suns' until tomorrow morning. Bay J52. I'm not a fan of having my mercenaries operate out of my jurisdiction. So, I'll tell you what. Fix that problem for me, and you'll be free to remove your friend and whatever else she's brought here. Oddly enough, a hegemony merchant vessel is registered to come in at midnight, just a few slips down. I'm not inclined to believe that's a coincidence."
I figured Aria wasn't one to let anything get by her.
We spared her our thanks, and bid our farewells.
Before she dismissed us completely, however, she lounged back against her perch, and called out to me. "So, the Illusive is training- what are they called?- hell puppies now? Did he have you chipped so he wouldn't lose you?"
Clearly, Aria was well read in human mythology. She certainly made a point of mocking it. Ultimately, I knew she was trying to gauge my reaction. To see if I had a short temper, or weak disposition.
I had neither. So, I pegged the Pirate Queen with a warped grin, and told her, "Just a tag and collar."
I saw the faintest hint of satisfaction in her dour expression.
Infiltrating Anya Nagano's ship proved a bit less extensive than Petrovsky and I had originally planned. At first consideration, we had thought to pilfer a pair of Blue Suns' uniforms, but when we realized the cargo bay was open from our hiding place- crates of red sand being moved to and fro- we managed to slip inside the cruiser undetected.
We headed straight for the science lab to discover precisely what she planned to exchange with the hegemony.
I've never really cared for discussing the parameters of this mission, or what I found screaming, tethered to tables, and thrashing like mangled animals aboard that nightmarish freighter. So, I'll keep it brief.
They had once been human- still technically were at the time- but the chemical agent Nagano had injected had horribly disfigured them. Covered in lesions and contusions, skin peeled from the muscles, most were leprous, some convulsed and foamed at the mouth, many lay still with glazed, silver eyes. A putrid stench arose from those that were already dead, and the ones that were still alive emitted choked, strangled gurgles.
It was terrible. For a whole ten seconds- until Petrovsky told me we had the data, and that it was time to go- I could do nothing but stare in horror. How could a human being actually use their talents to the detriment of their society? How could someone create a weapon so barbaric, and sell it to an enemy that would utilize it on our helpless colonies in the Skyllian Verge- as well as the proof?
It was because she lived by no code. Not even an unorthodox version. She would have started a war, and lived happily in a prison on Kar'Shan while the Alliance skirmished with the batarians across the galaxy. But, Cerberus had swooped in, and prevented all of that.
Instead, Nagano would answer for her crimes. Petrovsky, a Cerberus Black Ops squad, and I would intercept both frigates once they were free of the Omega Station, rid them of Aria's traitorous Blue Suns, and make them disappear. We would erase all history of any research facility, and the fifty people Nagano and her mercenaries had kidnapped. I would personally apprehend the wretch, and pass her to one of our loyal personnel inside Alliance Brass. And, after she had spilt every bit of information she could, I would discreetly condone the rumors that someone in High Command had ordered her execution with the very last dosage of her own agent. But, immediately afterwards I would vomit away the memories of what Anya Nagano had done to those people.
I had made sure to get as far away from any and every other person before I indulged my childish disgust. However, when I returned to Petrovsky's side- a bit paler than before- he had studied me with a degree of compassion and sympathy that I wished he never provided.
"It'll get easier." He promised softly.
"The chemical smells." I insisted. "Secondary exposure. I'm not used to them. I haven't had the pleasure of being sprayed too often."
He nodded silently, understanding my need to believe my sudden illness was due largely in part to all of the toxins floating in my lungs that we had just spent an hour decontaminating ourselves from. After a moment of contemplation, he added, "What you need to worry about, is when sights like these stop hurting altogether."
Though, I heavily considered that statement and carried everywhere, it was not a word of advice I heeded as carefully as I could have.
Not too many years later, I all but seemed to forget how to be bothered by the suffering of others. Perhaps that was why Petrovsky and I ended our partnership the way we did. Maybe, despite my numerous successes and triumphs for Cerberus, he considered me far too cold and ruthless to admit he had ever mentored me personally. I dismissed those inept or beneath me, focused solely on my mission, terminated those that were useless and stood in my way. Petrovsky had beseeched me to understand mercy, and for awhile, I threw it in his face. And on my nineteenth birthday, we permanently parted ways with irreconcilable differences.
Looking back on my history, I will admit I was a petulant child, tired of living underneath the authority of a man that pretended to be my father. I exceeded in my career, and desired freedom to implement my methods- the ones I argued were the best and only ways to be supremely effective. And I had taken out my frustrations on Petrovsky. I should not have done that. He had been a friend, and I had squandered that relationship just like the rest.
Pushing people away has been something of a talent of mine for awhile, I suppose. And though I'm really not one to dwell on sentiment, I will admit that if I were to see him again, I would apologize. Now that I've cut ties with Cerberus- now that the Reapers are on their way here- I doubt I'll get that chance.
I would admit to him that I did eventually start waking up to the repercussions of tenaciously callous behavior. Granted, it took about fifteen years, but I had begun to warm up to the idea long before my Collector escapade.
Maybe it had started with freeing slaves from Anhur and the rising threat of the Na'hesit- a mostly batarian faction keen on enforcing slavery in 2175 before the Rebellions. Creating a modern day Underground Railroad was rewarding to say the least.
Or, maybe, my knowledge of mercy was broadened at 0300 hours on Wednesday, August 27, 2177 when I was assigned to investigate the sudden absence of a pioneer team on a freshly scouted world on the outskirts of Alliance Space. When I realized I could not atone for the slaughter I had not succeeded in ending on Akuze that fateful evening.
A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks so much for all your favorites, follows, and reviews. They really mean a lot and are incredibly encouraging and insightful!
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02/24/2014- I've made some serious provisions to the next four chapters- chapters 1-5- regarding Laira's role, and adjustments to grammar. Including this one.