Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Halo or Mass Effect universes.
Rated M
Chapter 11 - A Wide Open Galaxy
•••
Yuri spent the last several hours at the workstation on his newly acquired vessel researching all he could about this new galaxy. While his time spent with the Alliance had given him ample time to arm himself with much needed knowledge, Yuri still felt himself lacking in that department. So he committed himself to reading, lots of reading. Every single faction, every piece of meaningful history, every potential threat along with their force projection capabilities, battle doctrines, and military assets was meticulously researched and documented. While he didn't yet have access to sensitive documents or classified information, the superhuman learned all he could just as he always did, just as he was trained. Knowledge was power after all, and the Spartan planned to take advantage of that fact as best as possible.
Yuri scrolled through all of the files he had compiled, and nodded to himself. This would do for now, he didn't have much time before he reached his destination. Six knew that returning to the UNSC was a long term objective, likely taking years, but he was still determined to see it through. His first objective was to set himself on track to acquire funds to keep himself well stocked with weapons, equipment, and whatever else he needed.
Six stood up from the console and walked across the cockpit to the main living space. Reaching the miniature kitchenette, the Spartan rummaged through his sparse supplies for something to eat.
While he did so, his mind continued to whir ceaselessly with possibilities. With the possibility of finding the Didact looking more like a pipe dream than a feasible course of action, Yuri saw fit to put that idea on the back burner until further notice.
Right now, acquiring the resources to develop a base of operations is a more realistic goal. The Spartan prepared himself a hearty meal and began wolfing down the food-a mixture of non-perishables he had procured from the Cerberus encampment. Mess hall food was good, but it spoiled quickly, so the Spartan took only rations with him, which he admitted were a great deal tastier than UNSC rations. But that couldn't be helped since his humanity had just come out of a thirty year war fighting against extinction.
Six had thought for a while on different methods he could use to acquire resources…it was odd; he had never had to worry about money before. All of the equipment he would ever need was provided by the UNSC free of charge. In fact, the Spartan couldn't remember a single time since joining the Spartan program where he had ever actually used money before. It had to have been before during his old life. He could scarcely remember a hand reaching towards him with a small wad of credits; a reward for a hard day's work. But that was all.
Acquiring and spending money was a foreign concept to him, but easily adaptable. It was like any other resource. Just like needing ammunition to stay in the fight, Yuri needed money to be able to purchase whatever equipment he would need. Yes, that is a good comparison, Yuri thought.
The Spartan had already decided that staying out of the galactic spotlight was a priority, so all of his actions would need to be clandestine; no problem there, that was his bread and butter. The obvious choice would be taking the fight to criminal organizations like the Blue Suns, Eclipse, or the batarians. This place seemed to have no shortage of nefarious organizations that had it out for innocent people. None of the major military powers would care much about some criminal organizations going dark, at least maybe not initially.
Bounty hunting and mercenary work was also another consideration, but it was quickly scrapped. It wasn't that that conflicted with his morals; the Spartan-III was willing to do just about anything to complete his mission, and he has done far worse in the past. Rather, it was the issue that most bounties wouldn't net enough of a profit for what the Spartan had in mind. Most jobs involved either arresting and turning in wanted criminals or taking out officers belonging to various criminal organizations. Six had better things to do with his time. Not to mention that rare jobs offering a significant payout would be far too high profile for the Spartan's liking.
Having finished his meal, Six sat in silence as he thought about his third option-and it is quite unorthodox.
An artificial stock market boom.
This new environment that the Spartan found himself in is rich with powerful corporations that investors can make significant money off of. Problem is, unless you are lucky, acquiring large amounts of money in such a way is a long term process. The Spartan needed to make large amounts of money as fast as possible, which is why he did not plan on playing by the rules. There are several industries that are prevalent including electronics, pharmaceuticals and biotechnology, mining, energy, and last but not least, the military industry.
It goes without saying that the Spartan had every intention of taking a look at the military industry before anything else. Before he knew it, the Spartan found himself back at his workstation, analyzing the relevant files. There are numerous companies that specialize in producing military equipment ranging from firearms, to body armor, to kinetic barriers.
For this to work, Yuri is going to already need a sizable investment placed into a carefully chosen company. From there, all it will take is a carefully planned and coordinated series of strikes designed to discredit and weaken the competitors. For the Spartan, the choice was obvious; he would acquire the funds to place a sizable investment into a human company-likely Aldrin Labs as they appear to be the most prominent one-and then he would target the competitors.
This would work to the advantage of humanity, as it would drive up demand for human-made equipment, resulting in increased revenue, profits, and expansion opportunities. The result being that humanity's military industry will be better equipped to delve into increased production and more advanced research and development projects, thus strengthening humanity's military. On the other hand, Six's campaign against any competitors would serve to weaken additional threats.
It is quite convenient that Aldrin Labs has a fairly diverse range of customers, producing armor systems for turians, asari, quarians, and even krogan. Not to mention they have no qualms about allowing mercenaries and other organizations to purchase their equipment. Thankfully, only the Systems Alliance gets access to the top of the line equipment so there isn't too much of a worry about handing over sophisticated military equipment to potential threats. It was good that this humanity at least had some idea of the dangers of selling off sophisticated military hardware to alien militaries or private military corporations.
Choosing which competitors to target would require careful consideration. Targeting Armax Arsenal would be challenging, and risky as it might attract the attention of the turian military. The Spartan didn't want to risk earning the attention of one of the most powerful militaries in the galaxy who also had the entire Citadel on their side.
Yuri scrolled down to one of the files and opened it. Batarian State Arms would be a better option. Most of their facilities are stationed on the batarian homeworld of Khar'Shan, but they never sell their equipment to the rest of the galaxy. Instead, that role is delegated to the secondary facilities that exist on some of their colonies as well as fringe backwater planets.
Enough research will result in the revelation that the batarians are well invested in the industry, producing a myriad of effective and relatively affordable hardware that they often sell to mercenaries, criminals, and even high profile private military companies, and no doubt has its hand in the black market. Yuri wouldn't be surprised if their customers include some of the large standing militaries, though he hasn't yet found any evidence that backs this up.
The point is, Batarian State Arms has their tendrils embedded in arms deals all around the galaxy with organizations of all sizes regardless of their objective or morals, so long as their pockets are full. If something were to happen to that company and all of those potential customers were diverted to human companies? It's a win-win. The issue is, he'd need to ensure that those customers don't just wander off to other corporations, which means launching a campaign that promotes human companies. Yuri frowned; he was a soldier not a marketer, but he had a few potential workarounds for that issue as well.
But this plan wasn't even on the drawing board, and it would take a lot of planning to carry out. Besides, the super soldier didn't even have enough money to make this work so that ruled out this idea, at least for now.
With only a few minutes left before the Spartan reached his destination, he took the time to double check every section of his ship starting with the troop bay. Pretty much the entire vessel was a gun metal gray, and seemed to prioritize functionality over appearance. Besides the cockpit and troop bay, the prowler came equipped with a small armory/workshop, living quarters with a kitchen, as well as a bedroom with five beds. It was perfect for long range stealth missions or for covertly deploying special forces teams.
In fact, these were the types of ships that would have deployed Six during his headhunter days.
The ship suddenly began decelerating, indicating that he had reached his destination. Yuri wasted no time, marching towards the cockpit with a purposeful stride. He peered out the window and simply nodded as he took in the sight of his destination.
Omega.
The space station stood as the galactic epicenter for all forms of crime and was a breeding ground for every imaginable undesirable. Were it not for the ominous orange-red glow that helped it stand out, its outer shell composed of dark grays and faded blacks would make it difficult to distinguish from the inky blackness of space. The overall shape of the station was almost like a jellyfish, eerily similar to that of High Charity. Its appearance alone was enough for the Spartan to yearn for a Havok tactical nuke to magically fall into his lap so he could bathe the filthy station in nuclear hellfire.
But that was where the similarities ended. While the lone wolf would begrudgingly admit that High Charity did hold some beauty to its graceful and alien design, Omega had none of that. Its exterior was ugly and misshapen, the structure was weathered and worn, its surface marred by countless battles, impacts, and the wear and tear of time. This resulted in a dark and tarnished appearance that absorbed rather than reflected light unlike the Covenant capital.
Not to mention that Omega was merely a fly in comparison to the unimaginable scale that was High Charity.
Intermittent patches of charcoal black and ashen gray broke up the overall monotony of the space station's exterior, indicating areas that had suffered severe damage or had been repaired using whatever materials were available. These patches added a sense of irregularity and visual depth to the station's surface once one got closer to make out such details. If each mark held its own story of conflict and survival, then Omega's history was a rich and bloody one.
Omega was a place where the vibrancy of civilization had faded into shades of survival and adaptation, and it had the appearance to match. It was the perfect place for Yuri to flush out and crush its various criminal organizations to claim their resources for himself without the risk of attracting unwanted attention from the rest of the galaxy. Truth be told, it was his first choice the moment he learned of its existence.
As the ominous form of the space station grew larger, Yuri briefly considered his options. He could maintain his stealth systems, and likely remain undetected by the space station. He wouldn't have to worry about fabricating a lie about his identity and purpose for coming to Omega. But at the same time, what if someone became suspicious of his vessel when he touched down?
Yuri's mind calculated the risks, and determined possible solutions to any potential outcomes for whatever choice he decided to take. If he landed without revealing his presence to Omega, that would raise the issue of his ship arousing suspicion by landing at the station unannounced.
The Spartan nodded to himself, and contacted the station, making sure his ship's stealth systems were disengaged to allow detection. Almost immediately, a gruff voice crackled over his comms system.
"Unidentified vessel, state your identity and purpose for arriving at Omega." The voice demanded.
Thinking quickly, Yuri rattled off a response that he hoped would be believable. "This is Echo 533 inbound with a shipment of procured Cerberus equipment for trading purposes."
There was a pause. "Copy that Echo 533." The voice responded. "Send identification and cargo manifest."
Yuri's fingers danced across his keyboard blindly fast as he generated the requested information. He had a feeling they'd be interested in inspecting the contents of his ship, so the Spartan figured it would be best to be truthful regarding some of the contents of his vessel.
"Identification and manifest sent." The soldier monotoned.
"Standby while we review your information."
The Spartan patiently waited, in the meantime he continued to calculate the best possible escape vectors should things go south.
"Everything looks in order, you're cleared to dock at Bay 6 for inspection. Welcome to Omega." The voice cut out and there was silence once again in the cockpit. The Spartan easily piloted his vessel through the tendrils snaking out from the bottom of the space station. He found the appropriate bay and flew into it as the large armored door opened allowing him access.
The tunnel eventually gave way to a relatively large bay composed of several small ships-mostly cargo vessels-already docked. There were dozens of individuals from different species going about their business. Some were either preparing to leave the station, offloading their ships of cargo, or simply milling about. There were also several security teams patrolling the area. Some were involved in inspection while others maintained a safe distance, scrutinizing every individual that left or entered the hangar. Some of them turned to look at Yuri's approaching ship, and even from this distance it was easy to see their expressions of astonishment as the highly sophisticated stealth vessel effortlessly touched down at the landing pad.
Six powered down the vessel, extended the ramp, and made his way to the troop bay to meet the inspection team. At the bottom of the ramp were two turians, a human, and a batarian. They all showed varying degrees of somewhat concealed surprise as the giant armored soldier gracefully marched down the ramp to greet them.
"Inspection team?" Yuri rumbled calmly.
"Yep." The human nodded. "We'll be fast, don't worry. Just gotta make sure everything matches with the manifest you sent us." Yuri nodded and led them inside. The Spartan tensed up as the batarian and turians followed the human. The turians looked almost like a mix between an Elite and a Jackal which automatically made the Spartan suspicious of them. Anything that vaguely reminded him of the Covenant did.
Batarians on the other hand, he simply hated. His past encounter with the aliens was to thank for that. Yuri's gauntlet brushed up against his kukri's handle as he noticed the batarian glancing around the inside of the ship. "One hell of a vessel you got here." The four eyed alien nodded. "You're not exactly just a trader I take it?"
Six glared at the batarian, and contemplated neutralizing the alien to avoid the possibility of detection, but thought better of it. If it wasn't for the fact that he needed to avoid violence to maintain a low profile and continue with his mission, then the Spartan would have immediately killed the aliens and the human for associating with them before hiding their bodies. But this situation required restraint. Yuri smiled, if Emile was here then we would have immediately painted the walls of this room with their blood.
The Spartan felt a rare pang of sadness at the thought of his dead friend. He stopped thinking about it and focused on the real world, what mattered at the moment.
"That's classified." The Spartan replied.
The alien held up a hand. "I won't pry. Whatever you're doing here is clearly something that's above my paygrade. I just wanted you to know that Aria's gonna notice someone like you eventually, and trust me you don't want her attention."
"Noted." Six nodded. It's not like he wasn't aware of the consequences. It was common knowledge at least here on Omega that Aria took every precaution to make sure she knew everything that was happening on her station. But the Spartan will deal with her later if that was necessary.
The human emerged from the armory a moment later. "Alright, everything checks out." He gave the Spartan a thumbs up. "Quite the gear you got there too. I'd reckon you'd make yourself a mean paycheck if you sold that shit to the right person."
"That's the plan." Yuri lied.
"Then we'll leave you to it." The man gestured for the rest of his team to follow him. "Enjoy your stay at Omega." Yuri closed the ship the moment they exited the troop bay. He then entered the armory and checked every single square centimeter to make sure nothing was bugged.
Nothing was.
Yuri then considered his options again. Walking through a public area with MJOLNIR would draw a decent amount of attention to himself. Spartans were not really designed for these types of missions. They weren't meant to blend into the public. ONI had special agents that were trained for that purpose. Also, there was no way in hell Six was going to walk into a potentially hostile environment without his armor on. But he still wanted to try and keep a lower profile.
He rummaged through the supplies left over from the previous inhabitants and found a small assortment of textiles, and dark, durable fabrics. The Spartan took the fabrics and unsheathed his kukri. With careful precision he cut away and trimmed the fabric into a cloak complete with a hood that would help conceal his helmet.
Satisfied, the Spartan donned the dark, brown cloak and adjusted it so that it would conceal as much of his body as possible. In its final form, the cloak covered his entire torso and arms save for his hands. His helmet was mostly obscured by the hood and the cloak was only a few inches short of covering his feet.
It still wouldn't be able to conceal his abnormal stature but it did well to mostly hide the fact that he was encased in half a metric ton of hyper advanced powered assault armor with a price tag that most likely exceeded the ship he flew in on.
With that out of the way, and confident his new appearance would arouse less suspicion, the soldier entered the armory and briefly considered his choice of armaments. The Spartan armed himself with two Cerberus made submachine guns, designated as M-25 Hornets, and attached them to his hip along with his magnum, an energy sword, as well as ammunition and grenades. All of this was done to maintain his theme of keeping a low profile. He'd bring heavier weapons to bear whenever that became necessary.
He double checked his equipment and then disembarked from his vessel, making sure it was locked. Now it was time to commence the first stage of his mission: information gathering. Omega was teeming with various criminal syndicates ripe for the picking, the Spartan had the opportunity to scope them out and make plans to deal with them accordingly.
Six marched across the hanger bay past the guards who eyed the Spartan suspiciously and past the visitors that gave the man a large berth. The hangar narrowed down to a small tunnel leading to a rusty door that slid open, revealing one of Omega's numerous residential districts.
The first thing the Spartan noticed was the atmosphere. The acrid tang of rust and despair hung heavy in the air, palpable enough to cut with a knife. Neon lights flickered pathetically, splintering off of shattered glass, casting a sickly glow over the twisted, rusted metal and makeshift shanties that comprised the galaxy's criminal haven. Dozens of individuals from all sorts of alien races went about their business. Some mingled with others, casting conspiratorial glances over their shoulders as they spoke in hushed whispers. Others were peddlers of illicit goods, anything from black market weapons to drugs. Many were simply beggars, huddling in tattered rags, their eyes were like hollow pits which reflected the desolation around them. Graffiti adorned practically every single visible surface, offering the smallest symphony of colors, they seemed to speak in protest against the backdrop of Omega's decaying grandeur.
The station was in a sorry state, worse than any outer colony Yuri had ever heard of. Every now and then a distant gunshot could be heard, and the constant hum of machinery was always present. From the sounds of it, this place was barely keeping itself together.
The Spartan navigated himself around the crowd of sorry souls, his cloaked flowing with each step he took. Those that noticed the super soldier either hastily stepped out of his way or scrutinized the large figure with some level of curiosity. The Spartan kept his senses trained on the environment, preparing himself for an attack from any direction. The Spartan would admit that he hated these types of environments. There were so many potential threats in every possible direction. Immersing himself in a combat zone was far simpler. It was often far simpler to identify threats and friendlies. But here, it wasn't easy to distinguish who was plotting to attack him from who was simply just minding their business and just so happened to be staring at the Spartan because they were merely curious.
The Spartan continued unperturbed, his head on a swivel. This was probably the closest he has gotten to exploring a civilian sector that wasn't the site of an active combat zone. He knew that most environments like that were far more peaceful than what he was witnessing here, but at the same time Omega funnily enough seemed peaceful in a way that felt uncomfortable to the Spartan. Sure, every step and every turn presented the possibility of running into packs of gangsters and criminals that would gleefully try and shank him for his valuables. Not that that would be possible to accomplish but still.
Even despite that, this place could not compare to the warzones he had been deployed to during his long and storied military career against the Covenant and Insurrectionists.
To make matters even less stellar, there was only a very small number of humans relative to the rest of the aliens that called this dump their home. It meant that humanity was a minority here and no doubt subject to discrimination or disproportionately higher levels of violence directed towards them by the numerically superior aliens.
Then, almost as if the universe sensed his thoughts and decided to bring them into the material world, the Spartan happened upon the exact scenario he had conjured up in his mind moments prior.
"I told you guys I'd get the money within a few weeks!" The Spartan stopped, and directed his attention to the source of the voice. The normal unassuming man was backed up against the door of what looked to be his business. Two batarians had the man cornered, and judging by the way one of them was reaching into his pocket, it sounded like things were about to get violent.
"We told you we'd be back." The other alien snarled, grabbing the man by the throat and pinning him up against the door. "You should have had the money last time! But you didn't, and still we were reasonable!"
"I barely make enough money to make ends meet!" The man protested with fear in his eyes as he realized his situation had just gone from bad to worse when the other batarian brandished a knife. "All my profits go to paying taxes to the Blue Suns for protection! You guys know that-" The batarian punched him in the face, silencing him.
"Shut the fuck up!" His friend drew closer with the rusty blade. "You humans are all the same. Acting so entitled because the Council favors your pathetic race over us."
Yuri hesitated, if he acted now, he could risk blowing his cover. But this individual might know something about the Blue Suns. But is it worth the risk? Drawing attention to himself just to save this person? He is human, yes, but not belonging to his humanity. That is the difference. But should it matter? Does that make him less deserving of the chance to live? Does that make him less of a person? Simply because he exists in a galaxy separate from his own?
"Please!" The man wheezed as the batarian started to squeeze his neck. "Don't kill me!" The other alien grinned manically and raised the knife so that the man could see it. His eyes widened and they started to water as he realized he might be living out the last few moments of his life.
No, it didn't. The Spartan is willing to come to terms with the possibility that returning home might not be possible. If that is the case, then the least he could do is continue his duty here.
Yuri clenched his fists as a young girl's voice echoed in his head, barely above a whisper.
They need to die.
The Spartan took a step forward.
They hurt us. They hate us. They loathe us.
His fingers brushed up against his kukri.
They took everything from us.
The Spartan stomped towards the aliens, the weight of his footsteps shook the metallic floor beneath him. The batarians whipped around and their eyes widened as humanity's vengeance personified closed in on them.
His hands shot out blindingly quick, and wrapped around their throats. Six hoisted them into the air and slammed them against the wall. He could see the fear in their eyes as they struggled against his unyielding grip, the same fear they took pleasure out of seeing in the eyes of a human.
They must pay, they must suffer.
Spartan B312 glared at the creatures beneath his visor. If looks could kill then the aliens would each have a hole burned through their faces. It seemed like all the batarians were the same; eager to make humanity suffer simply for the sin of existing.
Like the Covenant.
Will you let others suffer the way we did?
"No." Yuri whispered.
With a burst of strength, he squeezed the neck of one of the aliens, crushing the windpipe instantlyl. He threw the limp corpse into the center of the street so that the onlookers could see. The supersoldier then unsheathed his kukri and inserted the blade into the stomach of the second aggressor. He dragged the knife all the way up the stomach and chest until he reached the neck. Blood and guts spilled out of the wound and the alien let loose a blood curdling scream. It had the desired effect, and the aliens watching the disturbing scene stepped back from the Spartan in fear. Yuri slit the batarian's throat and dispassionately dropped the corpse next to the other.
What followed next was a deafening silence as the bystanders stared at the Spartan and his victims. Yuri glared back, daring them to retaliate. But surprisingly, the crowd dispersed, and ignored the gruesome scene once they had got over their initial shock. It seemed that public executions weren't too out of the ordinary.
Yuri turned back towards the human that he just saved. He stared at the cloaked supersoldier with a hint of fear and disbelief. The Spartan approached the man. "Status?"
"I-I'm good." The man stuttered, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably. "T-thanks for the save. They would have killed me if you weren't there."
The Spartan nodded. "What happened?"
The man scoffed. "Those two have been harassing me for months! Told me that if I told anyone what was going on, that they'd kill me! They wanted me to pay them so they'd leave me alone, but I'm living paycheck to paycheck so I've got nothing, not that they'd leave me alone even if I did pay them." He gestured for the Spartan to follow him. "We should get inside." Yuri nodded and followed the man into what seemed like an unassuming convenience store. There were a couple of shelves housing different goods ranging from snacks of different varieties to basic electronic components. The owner of the store went behind the counter and leaned against it.
He took a deep breath. "Fuck why does this shit have to happen to me?" He looked up at the Spartan. "Hey look, I don't have much but I'd like to pay you what I can for saving my sorry ass."
"Not necessary." The Spartan replied, eliciting a shocked expression from the man.
"Then… why did you help me?" The store owner asked, puzzled.
The supersoldier shrugged. "You needed it."
The smaller man couldn't help but chuckle. "Didn't think anyone on Omega cared… well there's gotta be something I can help you with."
"Some information would be useful about the Blue Suns."
The man nodded. "Overheard the conversation, huh? Well it's not like I have a choice, the Blue Suns are using my business to hide away shipments of Red Sand. I get a small amount of money from it but the rest is used as a tax for protection… didn't do much for me obviously as you have just seen. But at least they keep the authorities off my back."
Yuri nodded. He wasn't surprised. These types of societies made living difficult for the people, so it was a given that some would turn to illegal activities in order to survive. Six didn't judge, he's done worse.
"They've got places like mine all over Omega." The man continued, he produced a flask from his pocket and took a swig of its contents. "It's all part of their little smuggling operation they've got going on with the Talons." The Talons, from what Yuri knows, is a smaller and relatively new criminal organization. Mostly composed of turians, the Talons are well known for delving into the smuggling and distribution of illegal drugs, predominantly Red Sand.
This didn't sit well with the Spartan, as it is well known that batarian slave groups use Red Sand as a means to coerce humans to sell themselves into slavery once they can no longer support their Red Sand addiction. It was convenient as those types of people offer no resistance so long as they can keep their addiction going, and no one will ask questions if a couple of drug addicts go missing. It was one of many examples of how humans are taken advantage of in this galaxy.
The Spartan decided he would start there. The Blue Suns and Talons make quite the profit off of this business. Yuri had no problem allocating those funds for his own needs whilst simultaneously disrupting their smuggling business. These criminal organizations are heavily motivated by money, and loyalty between different organizations is often shaky at best. One would have to look no further than the numerous insurrectionist organizations that exist all at once. It wasn't out of the ordinary for them to turn on one another at the drop of a hat when faced with conflicting ideologies.
In fact, some of those incidents happened because of the efforts of operatives like Yuri working behind the scenes to destabilize those alliances. The Spartan would bet that similar tactics could work here.
"Are you in possession of a shipment currently?"
The man shook his head. "They came by a few days ago to pick it up which usually means they're gonna sell it off to the Talons."
"Where is their base of operations?" The man gave the Spartan a worried look.
"You're not going after them, are you?" He asked.
"Don't get involved." The Spartan suggested, his iron hard voice stopped any other resistance from the man. "Do you know?"
The civilian sighed after a moment's hesitation. He activated his omni tool and opened up a small map on the device. "It's here." He revealed, tracing out a path from their location to Yuri's new point of interest.
Yuri nodded, it was close. "That's all I need to know." He turned around to leave.
"Wait." The store owner held out his hand. "Who are you?"
The Spartan turned his head slightly. "That's classified." Then he left as silent as a ghost.
The Spartan ignored the small group of guards gathered around the mutilated corpses and continued along his path unperturbed. Now that he had a location, the next best thing to do would be to sit back and observe. It took only a few minutes of walking before Yuri picked out a checkpoint down the road that was guarded by armed troops that matched the description of Blue Suns personnel. The guards were vigilant, and refused entry to anyone that wasn't one of their own, threatening and warding off anyone that got too close.
Naturally he couldn't just waltz in through the front door, he needed a vantage point. With an experienced eye, he spotted a large, dilapidated building left of the checkpoint. It would provide enough cover and elevation to serve as an observation post. The super soldier took a detour through one of Omega's countless debris-ridden alleyways.
The alleys were a maze of shadows and deadly encounters. Glass crunched under Yuri's boots, sounding like gunshots in the eerie silence. But the distant hum of activity; the sound of machinery and voices, grew louder as the Spartan neared his chosen vantage point. Carefully, the Spartan opened the rusty door and shouldered one of his submachine guns, sweeping the ground floor with his muzzle. It appeared that the building really was abandoned. With the exception of some debris left behind from furniture, there was nothing left. The low light conditions warranted the use of Yuri's night vision which casted the place in a bright green hue.
With all the grace of a stalking puma, the supersoldier made his way up the stairs, keepings his eyes and ears trained to the environment. If the Blue Suns were smart, they'd occupy this vantage point with their own troops, and keep snipers posted so as to maintain overwatch throughout the area. Clearly, they weren't that intelligent. Every floor the Spartan searched turned up empty, and the blips that his motion tracker did pick up belonged to hostiles inside the base.
The Spartan spent the next several minutes meticulously searching all the floors for any enemies, and having found none, Six made his way to the tenth floor and crouched low next to one of the windows. Rays of light from the outside world offered some form of illumination in the otherwise pitch black building.
The former Headhunter peaked out from behind his cover, maintaining as low a profile as possible. The Blue Suns' base lay sprawled out before him like a destitute prison. Guard towers dotted the perimeter, each occupied with more than one armed combatant. Their weapons and armor glinted slightly in the dim light, and every now and then they'd yelled obscenities down at the civilians below that were foolish enough to wander too close to the unyielding concrete wall. The only other entrance to the base was across the Spartan's position all the way on the other side.
That was most likely where their cargo was sent out. The front entrance was too small to allow entry for large vehicles transporting hefty red sand shipments, not to mention high profile.
Some movement near that particular entrance caught the Spartan's attention. Several of the guards positioned themselves along the entrance, preparing for the arrival of something important. They didn't look on edge or anything of the sort, which probably suggested nothing unusual was going on. Moments later, a large truck approached the entrance. After receiving clearance from the guards, it entered the base and made its way to the center of the encampment right next to the headquarters building. The driver disembarked and opened the back of the large vehicle. After exchanging a few words with one of the guards he motioned for the rest to come forward, and they soon went about the process of offloading crates and taking them to one of the buildings towards the far left of the base from Yuri's perspective.
Could that be one of the Red Sand shipments? The Spartan decided to pay extra attention to this activity, slowly attuning his suit's systems to pick up conversation from long distances.
Most of the chatter he picked up was useless, but after a few minutes of listening it became clear that this was simply a weapons shipment, which meant that building they were taking the supplies to had to be their armory. That was a useful bit of information, as it might serve a purpose in turning the Talons and Blue Suns against each other.
Still, Yuri didn't know where they took the Red Sand shipments to. He'll have a hell of a time finding it through the vast expanse of Omega unless he had a general location to work with. He decided to keep listening, switching between the various guards and other personnel until he happened upon a conversation that intrigued him.
"This shipment is a bit larger than usual, don't you think, Arlus?" The batarian grunted with effort as he picked up one of the crates and walked alongside the other alien, a turian.
"Didn't you hear?" The turian asked, surprised at his friend's apparent lack of self awareness. "Things have been getting dicey with the Talons ever since what happened to our last big Red Sand shipment. Their trust in us has fallen short since then and I even heard some of our guys almost got into a shootout with them when they went to try and sort things out."
"So, we're preparing for a worst case scenario." The batarian deduced. From Yuri's position he could make out the turian nodding. This was good. If the relationship between the Blue Suns and Talons was already on thin ice, then it would make it all the more easier to turn them against each other.
"Shit, so the rumors about what happened with that shipment are true." The batarian grumbled. "I thought Commander Shepard was dead." The mention of that name caused the Spartan to perk up slightly. It seemed some of what he's read up on the Commander isn't propaganda; he's got a bit of a reputation.
"Yep, the rumors are true."
The batarian seemed distraught by this news. "Fuck that. Shepard is the last person I'd want to get in a gunfight with. It seems like even Aria is hesitant about dealing with Shepard if she can help it. Who could be a worse enemy to have?"
"I don't know… but I'd rather not cross paths with him and his crew."
"I'll drink to that. Anyways, you know when the next Red Sand shipment is coming? Best we don't keep them waiting for too long."
"Yeah, in three day's time." The turian responded. "Once we inspect the shipment we take it immediately to the Talons at the usual spot."
"Damn… understood."
The Spartan nodded, satisfied. He now had a when, he just needed to wait to follow them and figure out where this was happening. From there, the rest of his plan will be set in motion.
Yuri disappeared into the darkness of his observation post. He retraced his steps through the alleys he took to get there but noticed that something felt off. The atmosphere felt more tense, dangerous. Spartan B312 reached for his submachine gun, keeping an eye on his motion tracker as he did so. Something was out there, he could feel it in his gut.
Someone was watching him.
The Spartan froze like a statue, moving his head from side to side by mere millimeters to ensure all his angles were checked but that he didn't telegraph his movements to his stalker. The air was thick with anticipation and it was deathly silent as the Spartan waited for his pursuer to make a mistake. He heard a crunch of glass behind him and blurred into action, spinning around in the time it would take someone to blink, his gunsights settling on… nothing.
Yuri narrowed his eyes and held position. The source of the sound originated from a cramped intersection within the complicated network of alleys. He waited for a while longer, but this time he heard nothing, which meant his pursuer had learned their lesson. The veteran soldier slowly moved forward, avoiding patches of broken glass and piles of debris as he did so. When he got within arms reach of the intersection, he darted around the corner in a bid to throw off any potential hostiles with his speed.
But again, he found nothing. Whoever it was, they got away the moment Six detected them. They were clearly proficient stalkers too. It's entirely possible that they've been watching the Spartan from the moment he set foot on Omega which was concerning because it meant the Spartan wasn't the only predator on Omega. Someone was out there, and they've taken an interest in Yuri's presence.
It didn't matter for now; they're gone, and all Yuri could do is return to his ship and plan out the next few days before the shipment arrived.
•••
Tali was no stranger to living on a ship. Most Quarians spend most of their lives living on one of the over fifty thousand ships that made up the Migrant Fleet. It is without question the largest fleet in the galaxy, but unfortunately many of its ships are outdated, with some of them even being part of the original flight of ships that escaped the Geth over three hundred years ago.
Naturally this meant that the Quarian people struggled to maintain their vast fleet of aging ships, usually struggling just to piece together the bare minimum essentials required to keep ships in working order. The rebellion of the Geth drove them from their home and gave birth to the galactic wide fear of artificial intelligence which led to resentment of the Quarian people. It was why no one cared about her people, why everyone was content to let the Quarians slowly die in the endless cold void of space.
Tali found herself thinking about home more often than usual. Of course, the Migrant Fleet was always on her mind… but this was different. The Collector's attack on the human colony-Aurora-she believed it was called put her on edge. The speed, ferocity, and unexpectedness of the attack was haunting. While humanity is not as relevant in the galactic theater as the turians, asari, and salarians, they are still far more relevant than the Quarians. If entire human colonies can be wiped out without the galaxy batting an eye, then what does that mean for the Migrant Fleet? What would happen if the Collectors decided to attack the Quarian people? They had many ships but none could hold a candle against a Collector ship. A well coordinated attack against the Life ships would effectively starve her entire species to death.
Tali shuddered at the thought. Part of her felt guilty for leaving her home behind. If something happened she wouldn't be around to defend her people, nor would she be able to see her home again. Yet at the same time she felt her skills could be put to better use on the Normandy. Here, they are taking the fight directly to the Reapers and Collectors, something she wouldn't be able to do on the Migrant Fleet.
At least, that was how she justified her choice to leave the fleet. Tali sighed to herself in frustration and a bit of resignation and willed herself to focus back on her task: making sure the Normandy's engines were in working order.
Despite spending hundreds of hours with the Normandy's engines learning all she could, Tali couldn't get over how quiet they are. The silence used to unnerve her when she first joined Shepard over two years ago. Back on the fleet, silence meant the ship's engines had failed, and that there was a high probability you and everyone else would die. It's happened before, she witnessed it once, years ago when she was a teenager. A small Quarian mining vessel had returned from a mission to an asteroid belt. She remembered watching the ship finally merge with the rest of the fleet weeks later not much further away from the ship she had called home.
Everything was going smoothly until disaster struck and the ship's dated engines, which had been meticulously checked for defects, sputtered and died. The ship immediately careened out of control and into the merciless void. By the time rescue teams arrived, it was too late. The life support systems failed, leaving the crew as lifeless corpses floating helplessly in their own home.
And she had a first row view of the whole thing. Everything from the sputtering engines, the way the vessel tumbled out of control, to the power on the vessel going out and the lights turning off. She saw everything.
It was a grim reminder that none of her people were safe, that despite their best efforts, tragedy could strike at any moment.
Tali banished the memory and focused on finishing her work. She expertly ran through the diagnostics and interpreted the data she was receiving as a good sign; no problems here. But that was to be expected. The Normandy was light years more advanced than any vessel she had ever been on. Any Quarian would kill to be put in Tali's position.
"Hey Tali." The Quarian jumped in surprise. She turned around at the sound of the familiar voice.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." Shepard raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
"It's okay, Shepard." Tali leaned slightly against the console. "What brings you here?"
The Commander shrugged. "Just wanted to see how you're holding up."
Tali nodded. "If it's about our little adventure on the Citadel, then I'm fine." It was the truth. While their encounter with Eclipse was unexpected, they defeated the mercenaries easily enough and the trip back to the Normandy was peaceful. "Honestly I don't think it could have gone any better."
Shepard chuckled softly. "Yeah and it's ridiculous that we can both agree on that statement despite the fact that our supposedly peaceful trip to the Citadel devolved into us running through the alleys like rats to try and evade and then ambush a bunch of bloodthirsty mercenaries. I still can't believe that that's all we had to deal with."
Tali smiled beneath her purple visor; Shepard always seemed to know how to make the best of unfortunate situations. Not much fazed him, and the man's mental fortitude and leadership was something that the Normandy crew could always depend on to keep them together and in the fight. He's always there with his team, always makes time to speak with each member of his crew no matter the circumstances, like clockwork.
"How are you, Shepard?" Tali crossed her arms. "You're there to check on us but I feel like not many people do the same and that's not fair…"
The battle hardened soldier smiled, his weathered face gave way to a genuine expression of gratitude that reached his eyes. "You guys are my family." He answered without hesitation. "I'm responsible for all of you. Don't worry, I can handle myself."
Tali rolled her eyes. "I know that. But it never hurts to have people looking after you sometimes."
Tali could understand the burden of leadership to a certain extent. Everyone looks up to you for guidance and strength. The reality of that situation is a leader often needs to sacrifice their well being for the integrity of the team. But that shouldn't always be the case, should it?
"I know, I know." Shepard waved his hand dismissively. "I appreciate it, and yeah, I'm fine." The Commander made a gesture. "Care for a walk?"
Tali bobbed her head. "Sure! I just finished anyway." She made her way out of the engine room with Shepard.
"I take it the engine's fine as always? Anything I should know?" Shepard stepped into the elevator with Tali.
"Of course." The Quarian nodded. "The Normandy's engines are the most advanced I've ever seen. It's hard to imagine anything ever would go wrong with them."
"Just checking."
Of course Tali understood. Any good engineer would triple check the ship's engines irrespective of how advanced they are. The Quarians know that better than anyone else given the state of the technology they often work with.
"You've been keeping yourself busy." Shepard commented absentmindedly. Tali had a feeling where he was going with this but chose not to comment on that particular subject.
"Well I think we all have." The Quarian said. " I think everyone's still shaken over what happened."
She watched Shepard carefully for a response. He was always exceptionally good at hiding his body language from everyone. Everyone except for Tali; you learn very quickly how to pick up on subtle body language when you spend your life living with people that are eternally confined in enviro-suits.
She noticed his perfect posture slacken ever so slightly, and his head hung low for the briefest of moments before he forced himself back into that military posture she had grown accustomed to seeing. The Quarian knew that that series of events weighed heavily on him and she knew that he still blamed himself.
Tali stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the man's broad shoulder. "Try not to blame yourself, Shepard." Tali spoke softly, her heart aching slightly for her friend. "You did everything you could. We wouldn't have gotten off that planet if it wasn't for you."
Shepard turned to face the Quarian, his eyes locking with hers. She looked into them, and saw a mixture of sadness and regret, but also a fiery resolve. The legend sighed. "Whatever the case." He spoke slowly. "We'll make them pay."
The Quarian nodded. "We will, and you will be the one to lead us." The young woman knew that Shepard had, in a way, brushed off Tali's reassurance. It was his way of acknowledging her but also avoiding the conversation. Tali didn't blame him, and she knew better than to push him. She was afraid of setting him off, but the Quarian knew Garrus wasn't. Maybe she could get Garrus to talk to Shepard some time?
The elevator opened, and Tali followed Shepard towards the mess hall.
"Say, I never asked. Did you manage to talk to Kal'Reeger after the whole incident at Haestrom?" Shepard changed the topic, his voice now sounded a bit more upbeat as he spoke.
"I have!" The quarian responded, matching the man's upbeat tone with her own hoping to expel the negative atmosphere. "He's mostly recovered from his injuries. He told me that he'll make a full recovery. But that was about two weeks ago, so he's probably serving in the quarian marines again."
The incident at Haestrom took place a little over a month ago, and it took around two and a half weeks for the stalwart soldier to respond to Tali's messages. Those two and a half weeks were difficult for Tali, as she had no idea whether the man was alive or dead until he finally left her a message.
"That's good to hear, but it's got me curious now; I thought a suit breach was usually pretty lethal?"
It was a fair question, and usually the assumption of most people that aren't familiar with the Quarian people.
"Well, our immune systems are bad but not that bad." The Quarian said. "If that was true then we'd all probably be dead by now. Usually it just depends. Sometimes the infections are lethal and sometimes they're pretty minor. Reegar got lucky."
Shepard hummed in thought as he listened to her speak. "So it almost sounds like it just comes down to the roll of the dice." The ex-Spectre surmised.
"Exactly." Tali nodded as they entered the mess hall. Inside, Gardner was busy serving some food to Grunt and Garrus who sat across each other, engaged in their own conversation. Jack sat at the far table at the end of the room. She glanced at Shepard and Tali, grinned, and started kissing the air, mocking them.
Tali rolled her eyes and ignored the woman; she did that regardless of who she spotted Shepard walking with. "Anyways, it just depends. Some Quarians can suffer terrible suit breaches and come out with a minor infection while others can receive the equivalent of a paper cut and die."
Shepard furrowed his brows. "That's terrible. I can't imagine how difficult it is to live in a suit your whole life with the constant threat of getting sick and dying." Shepard sat a seat down from Grunt who was still chatting with Garrus while Tali sat across from him.
"It's not easy." Tali admitted. "But Quarians are nothing if not resourceful. Our suits are highly sophisticated, and breaches are sealed almost instantly, preventing the infection from worsening."
Shepard interlaced his fingers and then planted his chin on his hands. "Yeah I can imagine. If the Quarians didn't have to worry about constant threats of extinction at every corner then you'd be galactic leaders in the field of sterilization and medical technology." Shepard scratched his chin in thought. "In all honesty, you guys already are."
Tali smiled; it was always a good feeling when someone actually complemented her people. It very rarely happened. "That's right. Our suits are completely airtight and sealed, and have advanced filtration systems that can detect and neutralize microbes and toxins even at concentrations as low as parts-per-quintillion." She watched in amusement as Shepard's eyes widened slightly at that piece of information. Medical equipment nowadays can easily detect such low concentrations, but for a compact suit to be able to pick up concentrations as low as a femtogram of toxins per kilogram of air? Only the Quarians have mastered this technology to that degree such that even the average civilian could enjoy its benefits.
"My suit's biometric monitors also constantly scans my body for any signs of illness or infection and can administer antibiotics or other treatments."
Shepard hummed in fascination. "I'd imagine those suits are very resilient to chemical attacks too."
Tali crossed her arms and nodded. "Yes, a chemical attack on a Quarian ship wouldn't work very well so long as the suits don't malfunction."
"I'd bet the Alliance would pay a lot of money to be able to outfit their troops with that tech." Shepard commented, then his eyes grew slightly distant. "Would make any terrorist think twice before trying to gas Alliance soldiers."
Tali felt a pang of sympathy for the man. She knew he had seen a lot during his long military career, things she couldn't stomach. The man in front of her was remarkably resilient, and able to shoulder those burdens like no one else. But she knew no one was invincible. Not even him.
"I have a question for you, Shepard." Grunt suddenly leaned closer to Shepard.
The veteran soldier regarded the krogan curiously, before deciding to take the bait. "Please, ask away."
"Let's just say… hypothetically." Grunt paused to find the right word. "You found yourself in a scuffle with a bunch of six year olds, how many do you think you could take down?"
Tali, for her part, was dumbfounded. She looked at Shepard for his response to this bizarre question. She watched him blink, and then raise an eyebrow in absolute befuddlement.
"Uh, Grunt, why on Earth would I need to know that?" Garrus snickered quietly at the Commander's confusion.
The krogan grinned. "Think of it like a thought experiment, Shepard. You need to be prepared for anything! Just imagine you're surrounded by a horde of little ankle-biters out for your blood. What will you do?"
Tali was tempted to slap her visor as she listened to the tank born krogan continue to talk. Normally she'd chalk this up to Grunt effectively being a child since he's been released into the world only a few months ago, but concocting unlikely situations of being locked in combat with the most absurd opponents is something that is not isolated with just Grunt. Tali recalled similar behavior even from krogan as old as Wrex.
So just a krogan thing.
Shepard stared at Grunt reluctantly, clearly not really interested in humoring the krogan. With the way his eyes were subtly glancing around the mess hall, he seemed desperate to find a way to avoid the question.
Thankfully his savior came in the form of Jack. "This sounds like my kind of question!" The diminutive woman exclaimed cheerily. She jumped up from her seat and practically skipped along to their table, firmly nudging herself in between Shepard and Grunt. Shepard's eyes followed the woman all the way through, his expression one of steadily increasing concern for Jack's mental well being.
Tali couldn't help but giggle at the scene.
"Kinda wanted to hear Shepard's answer first." Grunt sighed and crossed his arms expectedly. "Fine."
"Well you didn't describe the scenario!" Jack retorted. "Is it in an open field or a room? Can I use my biotics?"
"Damn, you're right." Grunt palmed his forehead. "How could I forget the battle scenario?" The krogan looked at his battlemaster with embarrassment. "Don't worry Shepard, this will never happen if we really did have to fight off an overwhelming swarm of spoiled, entitled children."
"Keelah…" Tali sighed. "Aren't you taking this a bit too seriously, Grunt?"
"No!" Both Grunt and Jack responded immediately. "This is a potentially deadly and embarrassing situation if we were to be bested by children." The tank-born added, in a much calmer tone.
Grunt cleared his throat. "Anyways, let's just say you're in a small room with the bastards pouring in through a door and you're unarmed-no biotics."
Jack hummed in though as the damn woman actually seemed to dedicate her brain to problem solving for once.
Tali felt Garrus gently nudge her. "How many credits do you wanna bet that she either passes out from the booze or from thinking too hard?" He whispered.
Tali stifled a giggle. "The second option. She's actually used to drinking." Garrus smirked at the Quarian's response and nodded in a way that seemed to convey 'I agree'.
Finally, after spending a concerning amount of time thinking about the question, Jack opened her mouth. "I'd probably say a hundred give or take. I bet if I just stayed in front of the door I could keep them from surrounding me."
Grunt stared at the woman for a few brief seconds before chuckling lowly at the small human.
"The fuck you laughing at you fat bitch?!" Jack snapped angrily.
The krogan grinned. "There is no way someone as small as you could defeat one hundred children with your bare hands."
"Yeah!?" Jack roared, insulted at the childish remark on her size. "That won't stop me from biotically exploding your colon you stupid fucking-"
And there she goes. Tali thought. Jack was often more trouble than she was worth. Sure, her biotic prowess was a force to be reckoned with, matched only by the experience and wisdom possessed by Samara, but it hardly made up for her short fuse. It seemed like every time she got ticked off, the damn psychopath was a heartbeat away from tearing apart the Normandy. It didn't help that most of the crew was Cerberus. The quarian failed to recall the number of times she almost killed one of the crew and Shepard had to step in and intervene. He was the only one she listened to, and even then barely.
Tali wondered why Shepard even allowed her onto the ship as she listened to Jack let loose a hurricane of expletives and insults towards the grinning krogan who continued to make fun of her diminutive stature.
They went on for several minutes back and forth whilst Tali watched with an ever growing headache. Shepard seemed intent on letting the two sort things out by themselves while Garrus looked like he wanted a bag of popcorn to fall into his lap.
Do they have dextro popcorn?
The one-sided argument finally died off with Jack grabbing the bottle of booze she left at her table and storming off, but not before throwing out one last steam of insults.
"Heh, heh, heh." Grunt chuckled. "She's always the easiest one to piss off."
"I don't think you'll be laughing when she throws your ass out the airlock." Garrus pointed at the krogan.
"Eh, she says that but we all know it's not gonna happen."
"Uh huh. Famous last words coming from you."
Tali decided to change the conversation to something more interesting. "So, Shepard, excited to be visiting Omega again?"
Shepard shook his head. "No. In case you haven't noticed, I am a bit of a celebrity there. I'd rather not have to deal with Aria, her criminal empire, and the forty seven other mercenary and criminal organizations."
"Yeah and now we've got all that plus some kind of super secret shadowing organization to deal with." Garrus commented.
"I'm not trying to doubt Anderson or anything." Tali said, nervously. "But how do we know they are real? We've never even heard of anything like the Black Hand and even Anderson with all his sources knows almost nothing."
It's been on Tali's mind ever since they spoke to Anderson. The Collectors have made a statement, basically saying that the Normandy and its crew are not safe, that they will go to whatever lengths necessary to eliminate them and prevent them from defeating them and subsequently warning the galaxy of the Reapers.
Now the only chance they have at putting up a fight is following a lead on some shadow organization that might not even exist? To one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy? Tali didn't like it, and she didn't want a repeat of last time; forced to fend off against overwhelming odds with no support, and separated from the rest of the team.
With no one to save them this time.
"It's the best bet we have for now." Shepard asserted. "Besides, Omega is a treasure trove of intel on the galaxy's criminal elements. If there is anyone that knows something about the Collectors or have even had contact with them, they'd be at Omega."
Tali nodded reluctantly. She imagined that the Collectors probably wouldn't make a grand appearance at Omega to try and catch them off guard… she hoped.
Suddenly, Shepard reached up to his ear piece. "What is it Joker?" He asked. Tali watched as the man's expression changed rapidly from his usual calm demeanor to one of genuine concern.
"Shit! Understood, warn everyone else!" The Commander leapt up from his seat, and before Tali opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, was already explaining the situation.
"We've got multiple ships trailing us." Shepard revealed. "They must have followed us from the Citadel."
"Damn." Garrus growled.
Shepard pointed at Garrus and Grunt. "Head to the armory and gear up! Get everyone else armed as well." He then pointed to Tali. "Come with me to the bridge."
Tali nodded nervously. "Ok." She spoke, feeling almost subdued by the new situation. It had to have been Eclipse, but how? They must have had other ships docked at the Citadel waiting for them. Just how prepared did they come for this?
Shepard keyed his omnitool. "This is Commander Shepard to all hands, battlestations! This is not a drill! Repeat: not a drill!"
Tali and Shepard hurried up the set of emergency stairs; the elevator would take too long. They ran across the CIC, which was alive with members of the crew scrambling to their station with practiced efficiency, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination. Kelly was there too, her eyes wide with fear as she watched the scene unfold before her. Kelly was just a psychologist, she had no combat experience and was clearly out of her element.
Shepard took notice and approached the woman. "Kelly, you need to find a safe place immediately." He spoke firmly yet still somehow managed to sound reassuring. Tali wondered how he managed to pull it off. "Things are gonna get hot but rest assured we'll get ourselves out of this."
The woman seemed to slightly calm down almost immediately as Shepard's confidence seemed to rub off on her. "I understand, Commander. I'll do my best to stay out of the way." With that, Shepard and Tali hurried into the cockpit, where Joker was piloting the ship with his usual casual grace, only this time his fingers danced across the controls with a sense of urgency. One of the screens showed several red dots trailing the Normandy-unmistakingly enemy ships.
Tali felt her heart skip a beat.
There were eleven of them.
Eleven enemy ships closing in on the Normandy, and carrying probably dozens of troops.
"What's the situation Joker?" Shepard demanded, his calm soothing voice now giving way to a hardened tone as solid as the Normady's armor plating.
"We've got eleven vessels tailing us." The pilot responded, the speed at which his fingers danced across the controls wavering not for a second as he willed his body into action. "They aren't fast enough to catch up to us but I don't think it will matter."
Shepard nodded. "EDI?" Tali winced at the mention of that thing's name.
"Mr. Moreau is correct." The monotone, synthetic voice sent shivers down Tali's spine as memories of encounters with the Geth resurfaced into her mind. "Passing through a mass relay will not necessarily throw off the pursuing vessels, but it can still buy us time."
Keelah, Tali hated listening to that machine speak. She didn't think she'd ever get used to living on a ship with an AI. The damn things had killed so many of her people and basically sentenced them to a slow death in space. That bit of history along with the aforementioned run-ins with the Geth that had cost the lives of even more of her people left a bad taste in the quarian's mouth whenever the subject was even brought up.
Shepard, on the other hand, was unfazed. Tali understood that in the sense that his people never suffered the tribulation hers did, but at the same time, she couldn't understand it. He simply raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
"Mass relays work by sending vessels through a mass-free corridor of space-time." EDI deadpanned. "This requires the vessel to transfer its mass to the relay's core."
"How does this help us?" Shepard questioned with the slightest bit of urgency in his voice. Tali looked at one of the screens and saw why: they were closing in on the mass relay, which meant they had to decide whether they were making the jump or staying and fighting.
Tali didn't think the latter option was a good idea, she had complete confidence in Joker's skills. The man was probably the best pilot she had ever seen. But against eleven ships all clustered together? He might take down the first few before the survivors concentrate fire on the Normandy.
No, they'd be cut down immediately.
"The mass transfer increases the mass of the relay's core by a small fraction." The synthetic continued. "The slight difference in mass then can enact a small gravitational pull on the enemy vessels, requiring the hostiles to recalculate their vectors."
Tali perked up slightly at that. It could in theory buy them some time, but it won't throw off the pursuing vessels for long. This would throw off the ships not the relay so once the numbers have been corrected the rest is just a routine mass relay jump. Calculations had to be amazingly precise for a ship to make a jump using a mass relay, so much so that even the slightest adjustment could result in serious consequences.
Shepard nodded, his decision made. "Joker?" He asked, leaving the unspoken question for the pilot to answer.
The seated man sighed. "Hate to admit it but the damn toaster might be right." He paused. "I can do it, but it's risky. We'll need to let them get closer so that the relay's mass difference actually has an effect on them."
"I can assist with the-"
"Absolutely not!" Joker retorted. "I don't need a glorified kitchen appliance telling me how to do my job!"
You and me both. Tali thought.
Shepard, on the other hand, wasn't having it. He shot Joker a stern look. "Now's not the time, Joker." He then turned to EDI and spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. "EDI calculate their weapon range and show us the minimum distance we can keep between them and us without actually getting into weapon's range. Joker, you handle the rest."
EDI and Joker acknowledged the order without hesitation. It was a smart call, leaving out EDI's intervention for anything related to piloting the actual ship itself. That would prevent any objections from Joker since he still had complete control over all other aspects of the ship like when to make the jump, when to fire the weapons and so on.
"Ok, everyone stay quiet." Joker growled quietly as he leaned forward. Tali didn't take her eyes off the screen. It showed the Normandy slowly getting closer to the large circles around each of the ships which represented their effective engagement range "Just a little… shit!" Joker swore as the ship's systems picked up a missile lock and released a high pitched pinging noise.
"Joker." Tali pleaded as the radar showed the missiles screaming towards the ship at wicked fast speeds. "Please tell me you can avoid those."
"Hush! You're in the hands of a professional." Joker assured. Tali grabbed onto the man's chair as the Normandy's erratic maneuvering almost threw her off her feet.
"Damn it EDI!" Shepard snapped. "I thought you calculated their engagement range! Why are they firing from outside that range?"
The stupid AI really did want to kill them! If they survived this then Tali would shoot its core herself.
"I calculated their effective combat range." The AI responded, putting an unsettling amount of emphasis on the word 'effective'. "Certain weapon systems I detected can in theory engage outside this range but with significantly lower chances of success. If we stay completely out of engagement range then the enemy vessels will not be close enough for the mass change to affect them."
"When I say calculate their engagement range, EDI, this is not what I meant! You should have warned us!"
Tali looked out the cockpit, and saw a small blue speck of light in the distance; the mass relay. They were close, just a minute or two more of this nightmare and she could take revenge on that stupid robot for misleading them all like that.
"I apologize, Commander Shepard." EDI responded in a tone that many would not consider apologetic. "I will take this into consideration in the future."
"Yeah? Well let's hope nothing like this happens in the future." The pilot retorted angrily as he threw the ship into another evasive maneuver. "Missiles avoided." He sighed.
The next two or three minutes were long, too long. Joker masterfully piloted the ship through the expanse of space, dodging missiles with ease whilst simultaneously maintaining a consistent speed so as to stay just outside of the enemy's 'effective' range. Tali held on as best she could the whole ride, somehow not passing out from the rapidly changing G-forces or being thrown into the air.
"C'mon, almost there." Joker whispered, almost too quietly for Tali to hear. The mass relay was now large enough to make out each of its intricate details. Tali momentarily forgot about her fear as she stared at the massive device in awe. She never got used to just how beautiful and awe inspiring they were.
"Just a few more seconds…" The awe left and the fear returned. The quarian gripped the back of Joker's chair until her hands started to hurt, her jaws clenched hard enough to forge diamond between her teeth, and her heart felt like it wanted to jump out of her mouth.
Just a few more seconds, a few more seconds where a few milliseconds could mean the difference between passing through the mass relay unscathed and being ripped out of the ship and exposed to the harsh environment of outer space, adrift and completely helpless.
Tali wished for the time to go faster, she willed herself to try and be as patient as possible, to try and be-
"Yes!" Joker exclaimed as suddenly, the ship lurched forward slightly and the inky blackness of space was replaced by the myriad of beautiful colors associated with making a jump between mass relays.
Tali let out a breath that she felt like she'd been holding in for hours and slowly allowed her body to relax. "Too close, too close." She whispered. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned towards the smiling face of Shepard. He squeezed her shoulder gently and gave her a nod that seemed to say 'it's okay, we made it.'
Shepard activated his omni tool and held it up to his mouth. "All hands stand down. Hostiles have been successfully evaded."
"So, Shepard." The quarian crossed her arms. "We've still got one more mass relay before Omega and… I don't know if it's the best idea to land at Omega with all those ships coming after us."
Shepard turned off his omni tool and lowered his arm. "Yeah we'll have to change course if we want to lose them." The man frowned and Tali could detect a small hint of anger in the man's expression. Anger at the fact that once again they have been derailed from their mission. It looked like they could never just catch a break.
"So… where will we go then?" Joker asked the question that was on Tali's mind.
Shepard put a hand to his chin and pondered the question for a moment. "Not a lot of places we could go and expect help, especially since this is a Cerberus ship with Cerberus crew."
Shepard locked eyes with Tali, and they both nodded in understanding. There was one person that definitely will help, one person that had the resources and manpower to assist, and one person that loved the prospect of combat like no one else Tali had ever met.
Shepard regarded the pilot momentarily with a smile. "Set course for Tuchanka."
•••
Ok that's that. You'll notice this chapter is noticeably shorter than the last few. I figured I'd get this one out a bit faster than usual and also this seemed like a good place to stop. I actually had more planned for this chapter but if I went through with it then I'd probably be at like 30k words. I'll instead implement those ideas for next chapter.
Now it's time to address some reviews.
Guest: Yes I am quite aware of what the word intergalactic means. More importantly, this is a fanfic that takes place in a sci-fi world that does not conform to reality. I can design a galaxy with a million identical Earths if I so desire. Furthermore, who's to say there isn't another Earth out there with things like the infinite universe theory? Even in reality the universe is under no obligation to obey your preconceptions. We simply don't know what's out there. There is like a hundred more important things you could have addressed like grammar, character interactions/development and things like that. Why point out something so trivial that can be explained away so easily?
RandomReader: Rest assured that I will always verify every piece of information someone gives me no matter what.
maximus exculiber: They don't really need the MAC variants you specified. The tungsten rounds they use already are armor piercing. Even the slow MACs from frigates travel at like 30km/s. Remember, high speed projectiles are best for defeating armor, which is why modern tanks mostly use sabot rounds for defeating other tanks. Nuclear tipped warheads are not really necessary when the kinetic energy of these weapons can easily output more than a nuke can usually generate anyways. A frigate MAC can output like 64 kilotons which is not bad. A super MAC outputs like what? 56 gigatons if I remember correctly? No UNSC nuke comes close to that yield, only a NOVA bomb can output more. Antimatter is not practical, good luck storing that crap in a containment field where it can't touch normal matter AT ALL. Not even the UNSC has the technology to make that a thing and make it practical and widespread enough for the military to use in all of their ships.
Spacemonkey777: The algorithm idea sounds pretty neat. But would he even need it? Spartans are so fast that they are like blurs of motion to outside observers. In theory, a Spartan could just relocate so quickly that you wouldn't be able to move your gun in time to shoot at them. I don't want to get too crazy with designing overpowered weapons for Six, he is already overpowered enough as it is. Maybe if I threw him into 40k I would make up some crazy weapons for him or something. But Mass Effect isn't super powerful compared to other sci-fi universes. But I appreciate the idea regardless, thank you.
Abbafan1979: I'm glad you noticed. It makes me happy that people can confirm to me that my writing really is getting better. Yeah I was a little worried that fight scene was getting too long but I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I agree with your final point. Implementing the Didact will be difficult. How would I make it believable and fit in with the rest of the story if I choose to do that? I still haven't decided yet but we will see. I don't want to spoil anything.
Ok I think that's all for now. The reviews have all been remarkably positive so far. I look forward to updating soon and as always please let me know how I did.
Thanks!