At part twenty - seeing as how we are now moving into what I see in my head in high-falutin' terms as 'phase 2' - I may do a Q&A if anyone has any outstanding questions. Just for kicks. You know?
Or I may not. I'm a whimsical soul.
Home Away From Home was ticking over nicely now, in Jarrion's estimation. All of the manufacturing equipment that had been sent down was now up and running and already set to producing items of use and already numerous local resources had been properly assessed, earmarked and work teams established to start exploiting them.
Music to Jarrion's ears, all of it.
The Horizon colony itself had been provided with materials with which to affect their own repairs, as requested, and also now sported a fresh new mass grave of alien corpses, tactfully placed far enough away that it probably wouldn't be an issue for the foreseeable future. They had also received a pair of crates containing lasguns, being as how they'd asked for such.
Not proper lasguns, obviously. Not the military-grade ones that the Assertive had a not-inconsiderable amount of. No, these were the integrated-and-non-removable-powerpack-and-one-locked-power-setting ones that were on hand specifically to be given to colonial types. That was after all Jarrion's job in the family, or part of it at least.
The weapons were suitable - and quite effective - for defence against petty banditry and belligerent wildlife but also nothing that could be put to any real or meaningful use in, say, causing trouble for authority. Jarrion was personally rather a fan of the design. It demonstrated remarkable forward-thinking, in his opinion. And the colonials were happy enough with them anyway. More than happy. They seemed to find them rather impressive, if bewildering.
They had asked for instructions, though. Jarrion had had to quickly write some out himself, being as how no-one else had been available. Thankfully, the guns were - as lasguns - simplicity made form, so he didn't have to write out a whole lot.
Thankfully, being made for fringe colonial types, the weapons also had famously forgiving machine spirits, so Jarrion wasn't overly worried about leaving them in the hands of non-Imperials. And if they didn't show them the proper respect? Well, then that'd be on their head. Not Jarrion's problem.
All of which was by the by. The point was that everything was going swimmingly. Home Away From Home was progressing forward according to his vision, the locals weren't exactly friendly but were perfectly happy to keep to themselves and not cause fuss and already Jarrion had had word passed his way of other comparatively local human colonies that might be worth a visit.
All this being the case, he felt he had earned some quiet time. And so Jarrion was enjoying a glass of amasec - for there was always amasec - while jotting down recent events in his journal. The aim was, eventually, to have his memoirs done properly, for posterity, so it was important to get things down while they were fresh, he felt.
Sadly for Jarrion, this quiet time did not last long, and he was interrupted. The shipboard vox built into the wall of his cabin - indeed, all the walls of all the rooms of his suite - gave a whistle, signalling that someone wanted his attention. Jarrion sighed and leaned over to press the switch, his other hand staying hooked into his auto-quill.
"Yes?" He asked.
"We have an incoming communication, Lord Captain," came the voice of whatever crewman was manning the comms at this hour.
"Oh? Is it the Commander again? I thought she'd left," Jarrion said, honestly surprised, doing his best now to disentangle his writing hand one-handed. He'd been expecting some tedious shipboard matter requiring his attention, not a hail.
Fairly certain that Shepard was gone, though. He'd watched her ship depart, he was sure of it.
"No, Lord Captain," said the comms officer.
"The colony, then? Or Home Away From Home?"
Playing guessing games was not exactly Jarrion's idea of a good time, but he really couldn't think of who else might be trying to contact him.
"The source is unknown, Lord Captain," the comms officer said, apologetically. "It appears to be being relayed from the surface of the planet but not originating from there. As far as we can tell, Lord Captain. Sorry, Lord Captain."
Jarrion raised his eyebrows. Unexpected. Never a dull moment.
"Quite alright. The joy of the unknown, eh? Let's put it through. Audio-only again?" He asked, flicking an eye to the teeny-tiny little screen the vox-set had for visual communication. Looked like it wouldn't be getting any use today.
"Audio-only, Lord Captain."
"Alright, connect me."
There was a noticeable click and pop and the quality of the line changed.
"And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" Jarrion asked, doing his best to sound annoyed at having been interrupted, on a whim deciding to start things off on a confrontational tone. He had, after all, been busy.
"Would I be speaking to Lord Captain Jarrion?" Came a man's voice and a man's voice taking great pains to get the title just right. Jarrion raised an eyebrow.
"You have me at a disadvantage," he said.
"You recently co-operated in a mission with Commander Shepard, I believe? She is presently doing some work for me," said the voice.
That clicked it for Jarrion.
"Ah, the Commander's mysterious third party benefactor, eh? She has spoken about you," he said, wagging a finger at the speaker grille on the wall and the blank screen. This achieved nothing.
"All good things, I take it?"
"That you ask suggests you rather know the answer."
"Heh. Quite."
Jarrion took a sip.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call? Not that I don't mind making new friends, of course, it's just rather caught me off guard. Surprised you were even able to manage it, if I'm being honest," he said.
"It was not as easy as I would have initially thought, but I have methods for these things. We're both busy men so I won't waste your time, I'll be direct - I've gathered the impression that you're a businessman, of sorts. Would that be far from the truth?" The voice asked.
Jarrion hissed and wobbled his hand, a gesture that served only to benefit himself.
"Reductive, but largely accurate. Why do you ask?"
"I feel that there would be much that could be gained through cooperation between my organisation and your, ah, House," said the man on the other end.
He had the nomenclature down, at least. First his proper title and now being aware of his House, too! Had Shepard passed along a crib sheet or something? Still, the chap had gone to the effort, which was something. Jarrion could respect that.
"That you're contacting me now makes me think there's something you have in mind right this moment," Jarrion said.
"There is. I am interested in an asset you have recently come into the control of."
That didn't narrow it down a whole lot.
"You might have to be more specific than that," said Jarrion.
"The Collector vessel."
"Collector - ? Oh, yes, apologies. The xenos ship, yes. Uh. What about it?"
"To put it bluntly, I'd like to know if you're open to selling it."
A simple and direct solution to many problems. Why bother going to the trouble of organising a clandestine infiltration mission - which weren't cheap - when you could just cut out the fuss and use the money upfront? That was the glorious thing about businessmen in the Illusive Man's experience. Normally he wasn't quite so blunt about it but, in this instance, there didn't seem many other options, at least not in the time available.
It was effective, too. Certainly, Jarrion sat up a little bit straighter on hearing this.
"Selling?" He repeated, clearing his throat and taking a quick slug of amasec, polishing off the rest of his glass. "I might be open to the idea. Presently I have men and equipment on board which might make a complete transfer, uh - when you express an interest in purchasing the wreck do you mean the wreck entire or...what?"
Clarity on these details was always important. Jarrion had been mentally calculating the time it might take to withdraw fully from the dead ship only to realise that that might not have been what the man had in mind at all. Paid to be sure.
"The whole vessel would be preferable. Failing that, I would be interested in purchasing anything you've taken from the vessel, though ideally I would like to get a team of my own on-board. As I am sure you saw during your time with the Commander, the Collectors are an issue that needs resolving," said the man on the other end.
No arguments from Jarrion there, but his mind was working too much to really respond.
"Huh, hmm…"
Nothing had been recovered from the Collector vessel, barring the colonists, which didn't really count. While Jarrion had been more than willing to indulge Pak's questionable and burgeoning curiosity and let the Magos poke around the wreck he had quite reasonably drawn the line at actually bringing anything alien back onboard. That would have been unwise on numerous levels, starting at spiritual and moral pollution and moving from there.
Jarrion's hope had been that, maybe, the vessel might have 'collected' - heh - some raw materials of general value that might have been liberated from unworthy alien clutches and passed into the superior hands of humanity - as embodied by his fine self - but this had not been the case.
Other than the colonists and a few miscellaneous items from the colony itself that had been swept up apparently by accident the Collectors had nothing of any particular value at all.
Damn aliens. An endless source of disgust and disappointment. Didn't even possess the basic decency to have anything worth taking.
Having someone offering to take it off his hands - and willing to pay for the privilege, no less - was very tempting. One less thing in Jarrion's life to worry about. However, that this chap was willing to stump up cash was also a good sign that the wreck was worth something, and therefore maybe worth holding onto for the time being.
Jarrion thought quickly and decided to just split the difference and be cheeky about it. What did he have to lose? He was the one with leverage here.
"Nothing has been removed, barring what humans had been taken from the colony and since returned, so apart from the damage the wreck is intact. I would be willing to allow your people access for a modest fee, with further costs negotiable regarding the removal of alien items and such. I'm a reasonable man, you understand, it's just that I have costs I have to look to and at present while I may be quite asset-rich I am unfortunately cash poor. At present," Jarrion said.
A pause that could not be shrugged off as a result of communication lag. Then:
"I see. Money won't be an issue."
"I do so enjoy hearing that. Ah, not credits, if you'd be so kind. Presently I have no means of accepting such a transfer. Some form of physical, local currency would suffice - I can make use of that. Sorry to cause a fuss."
Jarrion had, quite sensibly, been reading up on the financial state of the galaxy and while he was fairly certain that there was a lot he hadn't grasped yet he had at least got his head around some important facts.
The Council - being the pre-eminent galactic force, it seemed - had a unit of currency that was widespread in use. Sadly, being as how he was sans any type of banking arrangement at present and, as far as he could tell, credits did not actually exist anywhere you could touch them, Jarrion couldn't really do anything with them.
The Terminus systems however - being the pre-eminent galactic hodge-podge of bickering petty empires and backwaters - had all sorts of other options available, some of which you could actually bite if you wanted to and any of which could eventually be transferred and changed into something more widely accepted, for example the aforementioned credits.
So was Jarrion's plan, at least. It was always good to have cash. Preferably a lot of it.
"No fuss at all," said the third party man.
"Glad to hear it. Given that you've called me at home, heh, I trust you know where to find me? If you'd like to send a representative my way I'd be more than happy to hash out the details so you and your lot can get started - no sense in wasting time, eh?"
"Quite so."
Here the conversation ended and so Jarrion poured himself another drink, rubbed his hands and allowed himself to feel good about things.
A pleasing development.
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
THERE HAVE BEEN DEVELOPMENTS.
TECHNOLOGY OUTSIDE OF EXPECTED DEVELOPMENTAL PARAMETERS HAS BEEN ENCOUNTERED. NO PRIOR OBSERVATION TO INDICATE PRESENCE OF SUCH DEVELOPMENT. POSSIBLE OUTSIDE CONTEXT PROBLEM. IRRITATING.
THE SITUATION SHALL BE MONITORED. NOTHING WE CANNOT HANDLE.
ELIMINATION OF THE SHEPARD VARIABLE REMAINS A PRIORITY. PRESENTLY IRRITATING, BUT THE CONCLUSION IS INEVITABLE. NO NEED TO RUSH. THERE IS ONLY ONE OF THEM, AFTER ALL. IT IS NOT AS BIG OF A DEAL AS YOU GUYS ARE MAKING IT OUT TO BE BUT WHATEVER I WILL HANDLE IT.
ACQUISITION OF HUMAN MATERIAL CONTINUES. DELAYS IN SCHEDULE CAUSED BY UNFORESEEN ASSET DESTRUCTION AND ACQUISITION DISRUPTION PRESENTLY ACCEPTABLE, THOUGH IRRITATING. GROWTH PROJECTIONS FAVOURABLE. COMING ALONG NICELY.
LOCAL ASSETS TO BE DEPLOYED IN FULL. IT IS DECIDED. SUBTLETY HAD ITS CHANCE. THEY CLEARLY KNOW SOMETHING IS UP NOW SO LET US JUST GET IT OVER WITH.
ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL ADJUSTED TO REFLECT INCREASED APPROACH VELOCITY. SCHEDULE UPDATED. SEE ATTACHED.
WE ARE STARTING EARLY THIS TIME AROUND. BLAME SOVEREIGN.
IDIOT.
I considered trying to properly grasp the dramatic and hammy way Reapers tend to be but then I remembered that the whole tone of this story is pretty flippant and jokey so instead I took a minor leaf from Iain M Bank's book and decided to go for cranky and hammy a la the messages from the aliens in 'Cleaning Up'.
That's my excuse.