Alliance Systems Shuttle, Unknown Location
Standing with arms akimbo, Aria swept her gaze across the consoles, her eyes lingering briefly on the backs of the two Alliance pilots before moving to the cockpit windows. There was nothing of significance in that dark expanse. The usual glitter of stars was blotted out by the glare of the mass relay before them. She was expecting to see something else however. More than two hours ago. Moving closer, she looked over the shoulder of the co-pilot. Nothing on the scanners. Snorting softly in disgust, she turned on her heels and exited the cockpit. The hatch hissed shut behind her. The pilot glanced over at his colleague, exchanging grins of relief.
"She's something huh?" he murmured softly, glancing over to the hatch to make sure no ears could hear him.
"Don't even think of it, man." His colleague shook his head. "I know her type. There'll be nothing left of you but gristle when she's done."
"Might be worth the risk." He grinned when the other rolled his eyes.
In the cargo compartment, there was no sound despite the presence of two Alliance marines, two medtechs, a human and an asari. The first four occupied the port side of the compartment, leaving the starboard side to the other two. The space was more of a subjective than a solid buffer. None doubted there was anything that could save them should Miona lashed out. The unspoken inclination however was to give some privacy to the couple.
Aria wasn't so maudlin. She sat down near the two, her lips curling slightly as she watched Miona gently caressed the hand of the human man she called Syrios. His real name was Jakeris Hendriks. With Reaper cybernetics obscuring his natural physiognomy, it was hard to put an age to him. He could be anywhere from his twenties to his fifties. Probably one of many vagabonds drifting through Omega or perhaps he held a decent job before the space station was taken over. Perhaps he had a family. Aria doubted any of that mattered to Miona.
The human was subdued by drugs. Sedated primarily for everyone's safety. He really shouldn't be on the shuttle but for Miona's insistence. It was foolishness to want to prolong the pain of parting but who was she to stand in the way of the asari who could probably pulverise her without blinking an eye? If it would make Miona more amiable and tractable, there wasn't really any harm in it. She hoped. Once Miona was safely transferred, her task would be honorably discharged. She really didn't have to but then, how could she refuse Tevos?
Regret seeped into her as she thought of her long time lover. It was folly and weakness on her part to rekindle the fire but her foresightedness went out the window the moment she entered Tevos's orbit. That and coupled with the collapse looming before the Asari, the possibilities that had then appeared encouraged her to take the plunge. With the crisis averted, there was little prosperity for either of them were they to continue. No doubt Tevos saw it coming too. Unlike the furious impassioned parting that separated them centuries ago, this time, it was done judiciously and calmly.
There were still fires for Tevos to handle, especially the recriminations that could head her way once everyone had time to look around them and picked apart certain operations of the Reaper War. Fact or rumour, mismanagement of information vital to the war was a failing everyone would deem criminal. Their association, if known, would only pull her down further. For Tevos's sake, it was to be hoped the business and years of rebuilding would bury the crime. After all, no outsider, except Shepard and two of her crew knew anything about it. With one being Shepard's bondmate and the other a long time friend, it was unlikely they would bring it up. Perhaps Admiral Hackett knew about it too but she didn't think he would bring it up either.
She didn't particularly envy Tevos her job. Hers was much better. With the latest update of the progress at Omega, she would soon be fully occupied in rebuilding her business networks. She didn't expect much competition from surviving syndicates. They could try. They were not exactly toothless but she was the one with all the advantages. Besides, she didn't have to answer to anyone if there were some culling to be done.
She looked up when the viewscreen in the cargo compartment flicked on.
"Asari vessel AMS Tremar has translated. Now on approach vector," the pilot said. "ETA ten minutes."
Finally! She glanced at Miona whose hand on the human had stilled. Even sedated, the human seemed to sense her disquiet and mumbled, his eyes taking on an anxious shine. She looked over to the medtechs. One of them shook his head to her silent query; there was nothing to be alarmed over. She got up and went to the cockpit. The other party was late. She'd like to know the reason why. The problem was, she wasn't on the official list of escorts. As a private chaperon, she hardly had any pull to interrogate the asari medical team. Tevos had also told her not to draw any attention to herself. Not that she needed that kind of warning.
With narrowed eyes, she watched the asari medical vessel loomed larger in the cockpit windows before most of its bulk overshadowed the shuttle. The docking bay door opened. The Alliance pilots murmured between themselves as they maneuvered the shuttle into the larger ship and land it. At the affirmation of a secured landing from the pilot, she returned to the cargo compartment and relaxed slightly at the sight of Miona standing near the hatch. She had expected to do some prodding. However, Syrios or Hendriks, was clinging to her, ignoring the gentle words and urging of the medtechs to release her hand.
Coughing to get their attention, she waved them back. The problem was Miona's now. Better that she handled it herself than to have something go awry. The humans could end up on the wrong end of Miona's wrath. The medtechs retreated back to their seats, all too aware of the danger. One of the Alliance marines checked the pressure readings before opening the hatch. Aria moved to stand behind the couple, looking past them. Several asari in medical uniforms stood outside, waiting. She followed as Miona stepped out, noting that she hadn't tried to dissuade the human yet. She said nothing but stayed several paces behind.
One of the medicos stepped forward. "Welcome aboard the Tremar. I am doctor Fellia," she said.
Aria frowned. That voice. It sounded familiar. She tried to get a better view but the couple's heads were blocking her line of sight. She sidled sideways. Her senses began to tingle when she saw the way the clots of two and three medical personnel were stationed. Tevos had said there would be guards but she was getting a different kind of reading off them. Their aura read of experience with a strong flare of intent towards violence.
Totally wrong for commandos. They were not legitimate, Aria decided as she glanced over them again. They were putting all their attention on Miona, having apparently dismissed her as unimportant. They probably thought she was just a chaperon. Their mistake. Her advantage.
"I'm Miona." Miona eyed Fellia guardedly when she frowned at Syrios.
"I'm sorry but I understand you are the only one to be transferred over from Alliance custody." Fellia gestured to the human. "This is...?"
"He's a concerned friend. He just wants to ensure that I'm safe with you before he leaves," Miona said.
Not that easily! Aria thought as she visually examined the medico, Fellia. Narrow face, slightly slanted eyes, those particular uneven stripes along the left brow. She had seen her before but couldn't place her. She put herself two paces away from Miona as she rummaged through her memory.
"I'm afraid we cannot tarry for too long," Fellia said with sympathy that sounded false to Aria. "But perhaps five minutes?" She turned to Aria. Her smile seemed to slip before it was plastered back. The movement was tiny but Aria caught the twitching withdrawal of the medico's body, hastily stilled. "You are?"
"I'm their chaperon," Aria drawled lazily, gesturing towards the couple, taking in the shifting positions of the medical team as she did so. "I'll shepherd him back to the shuttle once he's ready," she said airily.
"Oh I hope it'll not take long." Fellia clasped her hands together, looking fixedly at the couple.
Syrios was growling unhappily as Miona spoke softly, his eyes taking on even angrier shine. Aria half-wondered if he would shake off the effects of the sedatives he was given.
"We have a tight schedule," Fellia added uneasily when he hunched, hands tightening into claws. "Perhaps if you would encourage him to return to his own kind?" she raised her voice so she could be heard over his persistent rumblings.
Miona threw her an angry glare. The rumbling from Syrios increased.
"I'm really sorry but prolonging departure does not benefit any of us," Fellia said and took a step back when the human showed his teeth at her. Animal! The cloying smile dropped. A grimace of disgust crossed her face, betraying her thought. It was swiftly removed but both Miona and Aria caught it.
"By the Goddess, this is most discouraging." Fellia's distress sounded genuine, her tone rose slightly as she took a step back. Aria wondered who she was more afraid of. "We were ensured full cooperation."
"Perhaps if you exhibit some patience, I'm sure he would comply and return to the shuttle." Aria waved at the vessel behind her, catching sight of the Alliance marines and medtechs gathered at the hatch, avidly watching the scene. Fools. "Perhaps there are other duties your esteemed colleagues have to attend to? Surely being an audience to a private and painful discourse isn't part of their assignment."
A fierce snarl from Syrios cut across her last words as his eyes flicked from one medico to the other. None of them, she noted, looked rattled by the threat of open hostility. Rather they seemed prepared to answer with equal violence.
"I'm not trying to be unreasonable." Fellia turned another smile on Miona and raised her hands in appeal. "We were diverted to you from an important assignment. I'm sure you're aware of the continuing struggles against the TI? Time is of essence if we are to save more lives."
"There was no mention of any diversion," Aria interjected before Miona could answer. "But since you have more pressing matters to attend to, perhaps arrangements can be made for Miona to return to Thessia on another transport."
"Yes, since there is urgency for your services. I can return to Thessia some other time," Miona said, restraining Styrios forcibly with her hand.
"I'm afraid that will take several weeks. MCT would prefer not to impose on the Alliance any more than is necessary," returned Fellia smoothly. "Please, help us to complete our tasks. Your cooperation is appreciated."
Miona threw Aria a significant look. She too, had little to trust in these purported medical personnel, the pirate queen realized. After years of fighting against the odds as she did on Omega, she would have sensed all was not right.
"I need more time to settle my friend," Miona said. "As you can see, he is not himself."
"But aren't there Alliance medtechs to ease his distress?" Fellia turned to look at the shuttle and gave a little snort. "Perhaps we can settle the matter." She waved to her colleagues.
"No, you can't do that," Miona protested as she tensed, certain that these asari meant no good. Tasting her dilemma and already agitated to a high level, Syrios launched himself at Fellia, intending to remove the source of his chosen mate's distress.
"Syrios! No!" Miona shouted and half-heartedly made a grab for him.
A barrier flashed up between his prey and himself before he had advanced half the distance to Fellia. The medico smiled grimly when the human snarled in pained surprise when he struck the barrier and bounced back. She was about to speak when he made another effort to go for her. Hands shimmering, he struck out. Her eyes widened in disbelief when he pierced the curtain. The barrier disappeared as she dodged his following lunging thrust to her mid section.
All at once, a trio of varying biotic fields headed for Syrios. Before Aria and Miona could register what was cast, Syrios was caught in a whirlwind of conflicting energies and howled. At the same time, Aria found herself the focus of an attack from a pair of "medtechs" to her right. Their mistake. She dodged the attack as she launched into the air and landed between them. With a powerful flare, she sent them flying. They landed several meters away and rolled to their feet. A shriek from Miona and the sound of assault rifles going off behind her was distracting. It sounded like the Alliance marines were getting into the action as well. She focused her attention on her targets who were not daunted by her retaliation. Their recovery was too swift, confirming her suspicion that they were seasoned mercenaries.
Under whose aegis?
She leaped on the nearest mercenary before she could launch her attack. A furious flurry of exchanges took place. The mercenary was good but she was better. Grinning fiercely when several of her blows landed, Aria felt a glimmer of satisfaction when her enemy reeled from a ferocious punch to the head. Her senses screamed. She leaped aside just as a biotic throw flew past where she was standing. The mercenary received the full impact of the throw and was flung backwards, striking a stack of crates piled against the far wall, knocking her out permanently.
She headed for the mercenary's partner and made short work of her. As the asari dropped at her feet, she cast a look at the shuttle to find the Alliance marines on the floor, along with several "medical personnel". Whether they were dead she had no idea but the hatch of the shuttle was shut. Perhaps the Alliance medtechs sealed it, which was wise of them. There was no sign of Miona but Syrios was lying on the floor. She crossed over to check. Still breathing although he looked wretched. Where was Miona? And that fake doctor, Fellia?
The body at the far door gave her a clue. She ran for it, ignoring the lone asari medtech taking cover nearby. Probably the real thing. Through the door, Miona's handiwork was evident. Purple smears on dented walls and a couple of broken bodies along the right corridor. Down the passage she hurried, following the blood trail which splattered to an end with three asari bodies fetched up at the wall of a medbay. The shattered window a mute testimony on how they ended in the room.
Extending her senses, she searched as she exited the medbay. The patient lounge was empty but there was a lingering presence of fear, horror and anger. Slapping her hand on the door control panel, she found herself in crew quarters. Without a pause, she went after that trail and stopped when she rounded a corner.
"Miona!" she said sharply.
"What?" Miona hissed without taking her eyes off a gasping Fellia whose feet kicked frantically in the air.
"Would you mind killing her later?" Aria leaned against the wall, ignoring the pleading look from Fellia's bulging eyes. "Before you ask, Syrios is breathing. You might want to give him some of your tender care, he doesn't look that good."
Miona's eyes snapped to Aria, questioning. Without a word, she dropped her victim who collapsed limply and ran back down the corridor. Aria stalked over to a wheezing Fellia.
"You needn't thank me." She bent over to examine the medico minutely. "Fellia, Lysra or whatever you called yourself now." She smiled mirthlessly at the flash of panic in Fellia's eyes. "Oh yes, I remember you. After the farewell "present" you left for me, I"ve been looking to a reunion. I'm so glad you decided to drop by. The days ahead will be interesting, don't you think?"
Thessia
If lunch was a silent sombre affair, dinner was definitely the funeral march. Minus a few mourners. Slipping a piece of fruit into her mouth, Aethyta observed the silent faces opposite her. Despite the difference in age between them, their mien was near identical. The reason for their despondency was a singular cause who was not present. Having seen the storm clouds hovering over her offspring and her human when they came down for lunch, she could safely hazard a guess that the one stirring up the simmering pot was not the human at all.
Trying to coax a stubborn human who was old enough to unbend to a more favourable open-minded path was bad enough. This was one tangled complicated affair she had no intention of unraveling. To interfere might exacerbate the balance Liara was clearly teetering on. Eyeing Liara's troubled face, it hovered on her tongue to offer the glimmer of solution but she held it. For better or worse, they would just have to figure it out themselves. She munched on another piece of fruit as she examined the youngest asari at the table. That grey tinge about Liara was stronger. Unhealthy. She turned her gaze on Shiala who was also studying Liara with a worried look. Perhaps she knew something. She would have a word with her later.
It was a nice night. Cold but still a beautiful night, in Sanar's opinion. If Hiaras weren't off on a mission, they would be out stargazing with skies as clear as this but since she was alone, Sanar decided she could do with a drink. Breathing deeply, she cast another look at the sky as she made her way to her skycar. Now which pub should she head to? Somewhere quiet. With music. Soothing music to float in to forget about the burdens of the day. Memory of a foray several months ago came to mind. She started the skycar, heading towards the destination she had in mind.
The establishment was just as she remembered it. The soothing atmosphere of the pub enveloped her the moment she stepped in. Making her way to the bar counter, she waited for the bartender to get to her. She looked around at the occupied booths and tables. No one she recognised.
"Felaesa," she said when the bartender reached her. A slim narrow glass filled with a faint glowing green liquid appeared swiftly. Sweet fire ran down her throat when she took a sip, feeling a shimmer of energy coursed through her body.
"Meeting a friend?" the bartender asked when she remained where she was.
"No." She shook her head. "Why?" she said curiously when the bartender murmured, "I see." She looked over her customers before turning her gaze back.
"Your drinking companion is here." The bartender saw her confusion and added. "The one you were having a competition with some months back."
Considering that she visited the bar twice, Sanar found it somewhat bemusing that the bartender would remember her or who she was having drinks with. Having a drinking competition? Realization dawned.
"She's here?" Sanar looked around.
"You might want to look in on her." The bartender pointed in the direction of the private rooms on the left of the performing circle. "Came in real early, asked for a room. I put her in the last slot on the right. Blue lantern."
"I...er..." Sanar blinked when the other eyed her intently, clearly expecting her to do something. If Shepard came here to drink and specifically asked for a room, she might not want to be disturbed.
"Or I can call her family."
The emphasized hint that she thought Shepard needed help and not from that quarter was enough warning. Sanar quickly put out a hand to stop the bartender when she was about to turn away.
"Did you say she has been here for hours? I'll just check on her."
The bartender nodded. Sanar picked up her glass and threaded her way down the aisle. She easily found the private room with a glowing blue lantern icon on the door. The privacy light was not lit so she hit the call button and waited. Seconds ticked by. A second buzz brought no response. Maybe Shepard preferred to be left alone. Sanar turned to go, then thought better of it and hit the door panel.
"Shepard?" She peered into the gloom and spied the bottles on the low table. Despite the dim surroundings, she saw the figure sprawled amidst the cushions. "Shepard?" She hurried in and placed her glass on the table. As she bent over the human, her nose wrinkled at the heavy wine fumes. "Wake up." She tapped Shepard's face gently.
"Gaa ..way..."
The slurring response was no surprise; she had been expecting a drunken reception. "It's Sanar."
"...'ing eff."
She sat back on her heels and waved at the table light, blinking in the sudden brightness. There was no response from Shepard. Her eyes were closed. She would have thought she was asleep if she had not spoken a moment ago. Sanar counted the bottles on the table. Though she had come to appreciate the human's ability to hold her liquor, the number of bottles standing on the table were excessive and troubling. Didn't the bartender say Shepard was here the whole afternoon?
"Shepard, it's late. Don't you think you should head back home?" She gently shook the human on her shoulder. "Shepard?"
"Frrr friin's ..ake, eff eee..lone." Shepard turned on her side.
"Do you want me to make a call to have someone pick you up?" Silence. "Or perhaps I can send you home?"
Disturbed, Sanar regarded the human, wondering what had happened to cause such distress. As far as she knew, Shepard was recuperating well from whatever struck her down on her last mission. At least, that was her own assessment the last time she saw her at the T'Soni estate.
"Shepard."
"..amn it, arrr ou darff?!" Shepard snapped, pushing herself upright. Or tried to. She fell back when she couldn't find purchase with an arm that felt wobbly. "...sheee." She winced at the bright light and clapped a hand over her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"...verythinnn..daa...mn it, go..way," Shepard bit out angrily, wishing her head would stop reeling. "...I eeel..ick."
"Come on." Sanar grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her upright. "Not here!" she said when Shepard made retching sounds and made a snap decision. A soft glow enveloped Shepard and floated her to the lavatory. "Hang on."
Sanar flipped open the special receptacle by the sink for such an occasion. Just in time too for Shepard couldn't hold it in any longer. Supporting her with one hand, Sanar ran a soothing hand down the human's back as she heaved up her stomach's contents. It seemed to take forever. When Shepard finally stopped, she had her washed her face with cold water, hoping that would help bring her back to sensibility.
"..eed a ..quiqiee."
"What?" Sanar couldn't made sense out of that but retreated when Shepard stumbled over to the toilet, her intent clear. "You can handle it?" she asked worriedly at the door, afraid the human would slip and bash her head. The swoosh of the pressure seal at the pants was the only answer. She partly closed the door between them. She didn't return to the table. Instead, she paced back and forth, waiting. Keeping her ears open for any sounds of trouble.
"Shepard? Are you all right in there?" she called after several long minutes went by. "Shepard?"
Just as she was about to go in, the door slide open. She caught hold of the stumbling Shepard. Cold wet hands clung to her. The smell of wine so close to her face it was overpowering. She half carried, half dragged Shepard over to the table.
"Rest a while, then I'll drive you home." She lowered her to the cushions.
Laughter bubbled from Shepard's throat. She slapped the cushions beside her, making them bounced. Sanar stared at her in consternation as it went on and on.
"..wheeere arrm I oonnaa ss..eep?" Shepard said finally and hiccuped.
"Shepard, you're drunk," Sanar said patiently.
"...sheeet, ee.. oow." Shepard roused to jab a finger at her. "oo ing mee ba...aack, mee noo bee..ed."
"Shepard, how can you not have a bed at home?" Sanar caught hold of the jabbing finger. "Look, Liara must be very worried. Let's get you back home, all right?"
"..bee..ed aaall her ow.., sss..ee?" Shepard pulled her hand away. "...oont.. ouch meee.." She blinked, aware it wasn't coming out right. "..oont..tt...och..me," she tried again, wagging a finger at Sanar. "..amm uooaall..uuccking inn mah ..ead. Uu a..nnd urrr aamn ss..crets." She blinked blurrily at Sanar.
"Secreeets!" she spat angrily. "...youuu annnn thaa ammn oounceelaar eearley co..oost aaar...wiii.. the..eelll...I... oother...ooo...aelp..."
Sanar tried to catch her when she flopped down suddenly on the cushions.
"Stuuup..id...asaarii...," Shepard muttered. "..i..gg..ave...ee..verythannng...veryo..nne...iii...id..uuu..avve...to..."
"Shepard?" Sanar called softly when she slide into a slurring babble and fell silent. All that came from her was heavy breathing. She touched her brow, cool. Her eyes were closed. Asleep most likely.
"I told you not to touch me," Shepard said suddenly and clearly, giving Sanar a start for it sounded odd. Strangely deep. "That's how it all started, damn you..asari..."
Sanar waited but nothing else was uttered. The heavy breathing eased. Shepard's chest fell slowly and evenly. Staring at her, Sanar wondered how much resentment Shepard was harbouring inside. There was anger, betrayal, pain and bitterness. Why did she say she had no bed at home? What was going on with her and Liara? And what was that about secrets and the council almost costing them the war? She didn't doubt the human was referring to the Reaper War.
She was no greenhorn on the political dynamics that took place unseen during the course of the war but it was disturbing to hear that vital information that could influence the tide of the war had been withheld by the government. That was, if her ears did not play her out. The human was not exactly enunciating clearly most of the time. There was no error in her last statements however. Something had clearly gone awry between her and Liara.
It was none of her business really. What mattered now was what should she do with Shepard? From the sound of it, she didn't seem to want to go home. But if she didn't, Liara would be worried sick. What should she tell her? Maybe it would be better to just let Shepard sleep it off where she was than to drag her out to the car. She juggled the two options before coming to a decision. Getting to her knees, she gathered the cushions and tucked one carefully under Shepard's head. The rest she piled around Shepard's body. A search around the room turned up no blankets but of course there would be none. This was supposed to be a room for drinking, not sleeping.
She moved to the door. She would speak to the bartender and see if she had any blankets, then get a message to the T'Soni Estate. At the door, she paused and contemplated the sleeping human, wondering if she would share the truth some day. Perhaps. Right then, she had better keep watch over her.
Unknown Location
For a moment, Feron didn't know where he was. His internal consciousness had woken him up. He shut his eyes from the blinding bright lights, his inner lids glow with the blaze. His fingers felt the hardness under him. Pallet. Not his bed. Musty smell, a flow of fresh air. Metal. Recollection trickled in. His eyes snapped open. He jack-knifed upright on the bed and fell back when he spied the orcus mech standing next to him.
"You are awake, sir," it said.
"What are you?" He clenched his hands, ready to strike though he felt faint. Days without food and spent in meditation had weakened him.
"I am programmed to provide guidance for your journey, sir."
"Journey?" A slight chill struck him. "Programmed by whom?"
"You have less then twenty-four hours to reach the Sol system in the local cluster," it said, ignoring his questions. "There is a shuttle outside. Supplies have been loaded."
"Sol system? Why am I going there?"
"Please proceed to the shuttle."
"Answer me you tin can!" he snapped. Did Cerberus think he was going to dance to their whistle? "I'm not moving until I get some answers!" He shoved the mech back, ready to make a dash for the hatch of his cell that was finally open. Never mind that cloudy sandy dust was being swept in by a faintly howling wind. He wanted out of that damn box.
"There is no need for violence," the mech intoned, not moving. "The answer is provided. There is a message for you in the shuttle."
The shuttle again. "Where am I?" he said instead of moving towards the hatch, reining his desire to bolt out.
"I have no information. The shuttle provides the answers."
"Damn you," he snarled. "Didn't you say you are to provide guidance?! What kind of help are you giving when you know nothing?!"
"I am programmed to release you at the appropriate time, provision the shuttle and pilot it."
If there was a weapon nearby, he would have gladly shot it to pieces and take off in the shuttle. If he took the shuttle, he didn't need a pilot but without a weapon, he wouldn't be able to get rid of his metal keeper. He need not take the shuttle either but he had to know where he was. It didn't look like he had a lot of options. He didn't want to stick around his cell any more than he have to.
Glaring at the mech, he walked to the hatch, squinting against the light and wind. His suspicion that he was in an isolated zone was right. There was not a shrub outside, just a sandy arid horizon except for the bulk of the shuttle that partially blocked out the wind.
"Damn Cerberus," he muttered before he flung an arm across his face to shield his eyes.
Behind him came the whine of servos as the mech followed. Several paces brought him to the hatch of the shuttle which the mech opened. He stepped in quickly for the dust was choking and heavy. The hatch closed behind him, shutting off the wind.
"Please proceed to the cockpit," the mech intoned.
"Shut up."
He glanced around the cargo compartment. The supplies the mech spoke of were stack in the corner. There were mostly the energy bars and bottles of water that were left to him to last the days he was abandoned. There were a few more boxes containing other packages. He grabbed a bottle of water and a few energy bars. Throwing himself down in one of the seats, he began to eat and drink hungrily. The mech watched him and spoke again when he didn't rouse after half an hour, choosing instead to lay himself down on the deck.
"Sir, we should proceed to the destination."
"Go ahead, why do you need me?" he drawled. "I'm not going anywhere, am I?"
"The cockpit console is locked down and require a code."
"So go get one."
"You misunderstand, sir. The code is only available in the message meant for you."
He sat up. "You really are trying my patience, aren't you?" He leaned forward and spat out each word succinctly. "I am not going any where until I decide to."
"Sir, my programmed response is this. If you refuse to read the message, the blood of millions is on your hands."
Shocked, he stared at the mech. Anger flared. "I don't believe this. Did they have to try such a trick? On me?!" he bellowed. "I'm not their damn puppet!"
"Sir, I am only programmed to..."
"Shut up!" he shouted, leaping out of the seats before pacing around.
Should he believe what the mech was saying? He hated it. He hated this feeling of being controlled. This feeling of an invisible cage, the invisible leash. It was worst than the torture chair the belated Shadow Broker shackled him to. Then, there was the welcome prospect of death. This was an illusion of freedom. He didn't know the limitations of his leash.
The mech remained silent, its optic perceptors tracking the drell's furious pacing around the compartment.
"Damn you!" Feron stomped into the cockpit, followed by the mech, and stared at the darkened consoles wildly.
"Look into the lens, sir." The mech indicated the small port at the arm of the pilot's chair.
Throwing himself into the chair, Feron present an eye and glared into it, half wondering if anyone was watching. The console and the viewscreens lit up. Instead of a video, a message appeared. Frowning, Feron read the contents and sat up straight, keying to the next page and the next, his anger forgotten. The mech sat down in the co-pilot's chair and ran a pre-flight check.
Face pale, Feron sat back in his chair when the message ended. Should he believe it? He was afraid not to.
"Sir?" the mech looked at him.
"Take us to the Sol system. Quickly!" he rasped, clenching at the arm rests. "The code is Skyfire3tx."
"Yes, sir."