A/N I own nothing. Mass Effect is owned by Bioware
This story has received a lot more attention than I had expected. Thank you all for your views, follows and favourite!
OnkelJo: Thanks for the reviews! Hmmm, I am beginning to think that I am not going to be able to write a story that is completely free of logic leaps. Still, keep them coming. Maybe I'll manage it later on. I'll keep working on it in the meantime though. Feedback is important to growth.
Anyway, on with the story. Enjoy!
…
It had been a long week. Long but productive.
The day I arrived I spent mostly just walking around the Citadel after C-SEC released me. I had to admit, even stuck in my emotionally numb situation, it was pretty cool. The place was larger than I had given it credit for. I mean, I knew the size of it mentally, but actually walking around? That was something else.
I also had to deal with the fact that despite Manuel healing the broken bones, ligaments and scars, my body was not yet used to walking around for long periods of time anymore. Maybe it had something to do with the artificial gravity or maybe it was me being chained to a floor for nine months but I had to take frequent breaks to let my legs gain their strength back. They felt a little rubbery still. Oh well, I will get back into it soon enough.
It wasn't until very late on that first day that I started to think about practical things like accommodation.
Armed with a large amount of credits I asked the nearest Avina VI for the location of a decent hotel. She gave me the location of one that was on the boundary of the Presidium and Bachjret Ward that seemed promising. I called for a rapid transit aircar and headed over.
By the time I walked through the lobby I was limping slightly from cramped muscles and my clothes were rumpled from being worn over a very long day, not to mention my long hair and my hobo beard that I had not thought to take care of with Manuel. This, combined with the fact that the hotel seemed to be full of high level business people and possibly lower level politicians who were sitting in the various couches scattered throughout the public open area, meant that I received a lot of disgusted and disapproving glares. I ignored them all and walked straight up to the salarian standing at the reception desk in front of a glowing terminal. He was dressed in a white suit with a red vest that I could only assume was a uniform of the hotel.
"I'd like a room," I said as I reached the desk.
The salarian looked me up and down slowly. "I don't think you can afford our prices, sir," he said, his tone lightly condescending.
My anger flared up, forcing me to take a moment to prevent myself from physically assaulting the lizardman. When it was under control again I placed my hands on the desk and leaned in, allowing some of my fury show on my face.
"Listen up, desk jockey," I growled at him, keeping my voice soft enough that no one else would hear me. "I have had a hell of a week. The last thing I need is for some petty minion in a vest to start giving me lip. So here is what you are going to do: you are going on to your little terminal there and you are going to book me into the best damn room you have. I don't care if the only thing available is the penthouse suite, you are going to book me in there for a week and I will pay up front. The moment I am gone, you are going to call a tailor and have them come up to my room in two hours and not a second earlier. Between now and then, the only interruption that I will have is the person that is going to bring up the food I order through room service. So the only words that I want to hear coming out of your mouth is the number of the room I am staying in and the cost. Understood, sir?"
Throughout my rant the salarian leaned progressively further away from me until he looked like he was going to try out for a limbo contest. When I finished he visibly swallowed and began tapping furiously at his terminal. "Penthouse suite 4 is available, sir," he said, his voice having lost. "Elevator to the top and take a left."
The price of the room was twelve thousand credits a night. A week up front was a cool eighty-four thousand credits. It was easily manageable with my current finances but still not an insignificant amount. Regardless, the recognisable look of shock that flashed on the salarian's face as he saw the full payment come through his terminal gave me a feeling of satisfied vindication. After all, in hindsight I would have thought he would have called security on me.
After that debacle, the only thing of note was the food. I hadn't eaten all day on the Citadel and I had not drunk anything except for water that a few vendors had given me unhappy looks for ordering; I probably didn't spend enough money to keep them happy. Before that I had not eaten properly since before the dungeon. The entire time I was in there, if the food hadn't been messed with or tainted then it was something bland with only enough nutrients to keep me alive. There wasn't any taste to speak of. So when I got the food through room service, I found that I couldn't eat it… not without throwing up anyway. It was too rich for me and my stomach couldn't handle it. In the end I nibbled on some bread that I had smeared with a tiny bit of a sweet tasting cream and did my best to not throw that up too. So now I had the added challenge of needing to get used to food again. Oh joy. At least the in-suite spa was great. Somehow the jets seemed perfectly placed to hit my aching muscles.
The hanar tailor was able to supply me with a few respectable formal and semi-formal suits that were in fashion. Now I could fit in once I found a barber. Luckily the hanar was able to recommend a drell friend of his in a high end salon that wasn't too far from the hotel. That was my first stop the next day.
Before I knew it my beard was gone and my hair was nice and short. When I looked in the mirror I finally started to feel like a person again, albeit an extremely scarred one. It had been months since I felt that way. Normal, or nearly so. I feel my eyes water at an almost overwhelming realisation that things were finally over and that life was giving me a chance to move on. It was an oddly existential moment that was thankfully interrupted when the nervous drell thought that I was crying because I wasn't happy with his work. After reassuring him that it had nothing to do with him, I left after giving him an extra thousand credits.
After that I went back to the hotel suite. This time as I passed through the lobby in my new expensive suit and my clean-shaven face, the looks I got from the asari and human females in the lobby common area were much more appreciative. None looked at me with the disgust and superiority that I had received the night before. Regardless, I ignored them all and went up the elevator.
I had always considered the elevators in the game to be some sort of practical joke, or as a way of having a loading screen without needing a loading screen. As it turns out, no. The elevators were really unfortunately slow. I think I may need to take the stairs from now on if I am going to get to places in a timely manner.
Once I was back in my room, I started planning things out. Manuel hadn't been lying when he said that I had thought of a few things to do about what I would do in this situation. The hard part would be implementing them. Not just that, but there would be things I needed to do that I don't want either Cerberus or the Shadow Broker to find out. That is going to be tricky. I think pushing up the timing on having Liara become the Broker might be the best thing for me. If I can save her mother that might give me the extra help to make that happen.
For a good hour, I considered making an appointment to see the asari councillor. Of talking to her and trying to convince her to get proof of the reapers from the beacon. It was never in any of my plans to do that, but now that I am here it would almost seem too easy. I make the appointment, have a quick chat about the beacon in Athame's Temple and she gets things going with the preparation for the reapers. As I said: easy.
But I didn't. Not yet anyway. Too many unknowns at this stage. I had no position of power. I mean, sure, best case scenario, she believes me and things go into overdrive as far as plans go. Worst case scenario, I am made to 'disappear' and my time in this galaxy is over extremely quickly. Not to mention that if these preparations are discovered by Saren or the Reapers then they could rush through a lot earlier and I would have no time at all to help set things up. Given how reluctant the councillors seemed towards action that might be seen as threatening, the most likely response would be denial. I could offer up my knowledge through a meld and show the truth, which would likely convince her. Would that be enough to convince the other councillors? Doubtful, especially the turian councillor, Sparatus. But Saren would likely find out, which means Nazara, or Sovereign, would kick things ahead of time which would equal bad news.
So, I decided against that course of action for now. I needed to get at least some evidence and that meant proceeding with the plans I had already thought of. To quote all of the great crime films, I would play the 'long con'. Even if this 'con' was to save the galaxy. Besides, I planned to talk to the Councillor Tevos about the beacon eventually so it wasn't as if I was ignoring that tactical option completely. In the meantime I would collect the things I would need.
There were two problems that I discovered in my hotel room that I had not planned for. Quite simply, the first one was the bed. I had spent the last nine months chained up in a room sleeping on a concrete floor with no padding. I lay down on that bed for five minutes and I had to sit up. The bed was too soft. I spent so many hours wishing that I had a bed to sleep in, instead of a cracked, solid grey concrete floor. Now that I had one, I couldn't get comfortable. I laid down and felt as if I was going to be swallowed in the feather blankets. It was too much. In the end, I solved that issue by taking the bedding off the bed and putting it on the carpet. It was softer than my old accommodations, but it was hard enough that I didn't feel uncomfortable.
The second issue was sleep itself. I tried to sleep that first night. Lying on the comfortable carpet it was easy enough to actually fall asleep. Then, I started dreaming.
It was almost as if my mind was reliving the worst parts of the last nine months. I woke up screaming "Jason!" I was covered in sweat and shivering. Once I realised I wasn't back in the cell but in possibly the nicest hotel suite I had ever stayed in, I let out a ragged breath and looked at the ceiling.
"Is it too late to ask for the dreams to stop?" I called out loud, hoping that Manuel would hear me. Nothing.
"Figures," I grumbled. I looked at the clock. I had only been asleep for just over four hours, but with the dream I had no desire to try going back to sleep again. So I got up and went back to my planning.
First thing was a ship. To be able to follow through any of my plans I would need a ship. I am thinking at least frigate size. The problem is that I don't know ships. I know about basic things such as military ship classes and such but other than that I had nothing. That meant that I needed a crew. A reliable crew. And a pilot. The best species when it comes to ships are the quarians. Logic told me I needed quarians. But I didn't want to only have quarians, I wanted to be able to branch out to have a multiracial crew. Maybe I could build up to that.
Getting the quarians was easy. Given what I knew about their Pilgrimage I figured there had to be a few hanging around the Citadel, and as they were looked down upon by the other alien species I guessed that there would be enough looking for work to respond to a job ad. Hiring the building for a week was no trouble. The asari matron that I had as a receptionist, whose name was Malaea, was found through a job agency. It was easy enough to organise. I just paid half again over standard wage and let her use her personal omni-tool during work hours. A week of that and she was already asking me to call her if I needed any other work done.
Among the quarians I had interviewed, there were five that really stood out. It was tough to narrow it down to three. I told the other two that I may need their services within the next month or two if they were still on the Citadel. In the end I chose the techie Hectar'Galon nar Isareel, a male engineer called Sel'Hara nar Fellir and a female engineer and ship specialist apprentice named Ely'Hael nar Qarat. All three of them seemed very unsure of themselves. None of them had much confidence when it came to dealing with me but they were all confident when it came to their work. Ely in particular seemed to go into a trance when it came to talking about ships in her interview.
In fact, that was why I was on my way to meet her now. Not that she knew that yet. I had merely organised for her to meet me in the Kithoi Ward to go over her first assignment.
I paced slowly through the ward near a monument that I had organised as the meet-up point. I kept walking, giving my legs a chance to improve. I was getting stronger every day, now that my body was becoming accustomed to moving around a lot again. I had even started to do sit ups and push ups. I wasn't doing many, not like I used to be able to do, but it was a start and I was already seeing improvement.
Right on time I see Ely coming towards me. Right away I notice the hostile looks aimed towards her from the turians in the area. Even a few asari narrow their eyes as she walks past. Ely didn't even raise her head, keeping her face cast downwards and her shoulders hunched. Clearly uncomfortable. That's something I am going to have to work on. That means I am going to have to get my head out of my arse to help her out, or as someone once told me 'fake it till you make it.' Time to perform.
"Hello, Ms Hael," I greet, putting on as warm as smile as I can, even if I don't really feel it. Not because I don't like quarians, I just am still not yet back into the feeling real emotions stage. "I'm glad you could meet me here so early."
"It's ok, Mr Neilson," she replied, rubbing her arm nervously as she looks up at me. "I am ready for work now."
"Good. And please, call me Brock. We are going to be working together for a while and quite closely. It would make me more comfortable to be on a less formal basis."
She looked up at me for a few seconds, her glowing eyes searching through her visor. "Ok… Brock. Please, call me Ely."
I give her a smile that actually starts to feel genuine. "Will do, Ely. Now, I am going to need your help on something. Something that I think you will do perfectly, more so than the others who I hired."
"Oh?"
"Yep," I confirm jauntily. "We are going to look at my ship."
She perks up considerably at that. "Really? What ship do you have?"
I can't help chuckling at the sudden enthusiasm in her voice and bogy language. "No idea. You are going to help me buy one."
She is almost quivering with excitement as we turn to walk to nearest second hand ship salesmen. I remember there is one with a side quest in ME2 that includes a volus that accuses a quarian girl but I don't remember exactly where that one is. Luckily, there are eleven approved second-hand ship merchants on the Citadel and three of them happen to be within walking distance of our meeting place. Two of them are closer together so that is the direction we go.
"So what sort of ship are you going to buy?" Ely asked, nearly skipping along next to me.
"Not sure really," I admit. "I want something that is at least a hundred and fifty meters long. A frigate sized freighter is what I am thinking. Something that I can extensively modify to include some self-defence weapons and armour, as well as make improvements to the engine. The main thing really is reliability of course. Something that will last a long time and will be able take a bit of turbulence if necessary. I don't want to run afoul of any mercs or batarian slavers that I won't be able to outrun or keep at bay. I won't be doing anything illegal so far as I know but we may not be near the safety of the Citadel or Turian patrol fleets for long periods of time and I want to be able to get away safely. And it has to be able to run on as small a crew as possible."
"What type of modifications are you thinking about?" Ely asked curiously.
"Thicker armour, for one. Some missile pods and maybe a Guardian defence laser, if I can afford it. The engine will probably be refitted at least or possibly expanded. I want to give it more power. I know frigates and corvettes usually go faster than cruisers and dreadnoughts but if I am buying a freighter then the odds of it having a great mass effect drive are probably pretty low."
"Keelah," she said, her tone thoughtful. "That's a lot of credits you are planning on spending."
I grinned. "Well, I won't be spending it right away. The first thing is finding something that will let me do all that. Which is why I have my fantastic ships specialist!"
She rubbed the side of her faceplate, clearly embarrassed. It was almost endearing, how open she was with her body language.
We make it to the first dealership and take a look at the stock on offer. The elcor standing next to the desk was friendly and polite. That weird thing where they state how the sentence is meant to be received at the beginning of said sentence was actually very helpful. It made it easy to guess his mood.
There was one ship there that caught my attention, an old turian freighter. Almost immediately Ely shot me down.
"No," she said firmly as I looked at the specs.
I looked at her. "Why not?" I asked.
"The turian faeru-class freighters are always more trouble than they are worth," she said confidently. "The wiring is shoddy, the fuel economy is horrible, the welding on the inner hull joints are usually made from some weird iron composite alloy that rusts the inside of the ship faster than average. The fleet bought a few of them at a discount in a bulk purchase. We scrapped them all within five years because of how poorly they worked."
Well, if that wasn't a condemnation of a ship class then I don't know what is. If the quarians were unable to keep a ship flying then there is no way I would have risked it.
We headed over to the next dealership and looked at the listings. The worker was a salarian and I had to say that he reminded me of every used car salesmen I had ever met back in my time if they were advanced to next level creep. Pushy, slimy, trying hard for the sale. I felt like I needed a shower just talking to him. He would have made any greasy salesmen back home look like a priest.
Regardless, there were two ships that I put down as possibilities to come back to if we found nothing better. We then took a long walk to the third seller. It was a few kilometres down the Ward but it was a pleasant part of the Citadel so we agreed to walk it. I was happy. More leg exercise; I was still building my muscles back up after all.
We made it in decent time. We only stopped once and I disguised it as a drink break, doing my best to not let on that my legs were cramping again. After a drink of water for me and a dextro juice for Ely we kept going.
The ships at this place were much like the others. A lot of personal shuttles. An old asari corvette. There was even a small human freighter. Only one ship stuck out to me though and it was apparently a salarian kirik-class medium freighter. I asked the asari maiden working there for details and made sure that Ely was paying attention. I didn't understand most of the technical mumbo jumbo. All I saw was the large open areas near the engine room, the living areas on the top third of the ship and the massive cavern in the bottom half that would be able to hold goods, be used as a research area or an awesome training den. Plenty of room to expand in there.
As we left I asked Ely her opinion.
"I think the medium freighter was alright," she said cautiously. "I still think the old asari troop transport that the salarian was offering might be a better option from what I understood of your preferences. But only an idiot buys a ship without a personal inspection so I would wait until we see them ourselves before you make a final decision."
I favoured her with a small smile. "Good thing neither of us are idiots."
She chuckled and rubbed the side of her face mask.
We checked out three more of the places on the Citadel before we decided to call it a day. None of the other places had anything that really stood out to me. Well, there had been a volus freighter that looked promising but I was persuaded to turn it down by Ely. Apparently the work required to remove the specialised environmental gear that is installed in every volus vessel to accommodate to their biology was more effort than it was worth. Maybe when I had more money from selling the eezo asteroids I could consider it.
As we were walking back to the closest rapid transit, making plans to meet up the next day to inspect the ships were had found interesting, there was a minor disturbance in the form of a small child. It was a little human girl, maybe about five years old. She came sprinting as fast as her little legs would carry her around a corner and collided with my leg and fell over on the floor.
I helped her to stand up and took a look at her. She had dark brown hair and hazel eyes but that wasn't what got my attention. She was filthy. She had dirt smudged all over her face and hands. Her fingernails were cracked and there was a scab on her left cheek. She had dropped a little brown package and a piece of fruit rolled out.
"Are you OK?" I asked. I had a feeling of what was going on here but I felt the need to double check.
The girl gave a nod and picked up her bag, shoving the fruit back inside.
"What's your name?" I asked, keeping my voice kind. I could feel my heart reaching out to the little girl. It was a mix of pity and desire to help the child, born out of the recent experiences I had had with my own.
Before the little girl could answer I heard someone yell out "Hey!" Almost before it registered, the little girl shot off and ran towards a duct in the wall, confirming my suspicions. She was homeless here on the Citadel. There was a little turian child already waiting there, holding the vent cover open for her. They disappeared inside just as a salarian vendor ran around the corner, almost colliding with Ely.
"Hey, watch it!" she shouted indignantly.
"Be quiet, suit rat!" he snarled as he righted himself.
He started to look around only to find himself dragged off balance as I got two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him towards me.
"You are insulting one of my employees, you little gecko!" I growled in his face, the rage quick to come out again. I did my best not to show it but I wasn't really strong enough yet to keep him in that position long. Good thing that salarians are lighter than most other species. "So I suggest that you apologise before I see if the closest krogan enjoys his salarian liver raw. So calm down, be polite and tell us what the problem is."
The salarian's already bug-eyes looked like they were about to leap out of his skull. "S-s-sorry!" he stammered.
"Say it to her," I snapped, gesturing towards Ely with a nod of my head. I felt my arms starting to burn with the salarian's weight. I couldn't hold him forever and I had the feeling that if he found out that I wasn't strong enough to stop him, he would probably lose his current fear.
Luckily, he twisted his head towards Ely immediately. "Sorry, miss," he gasped.
I let him go and he stood up fully. He ran his hands over his uniform and smoothed out the wrinkles from where I grabbed him. "A small du… homeless child, a human girl, just stole some fruit from my store and ran this way. I locked up as fast as I could and chased after her. The last I saw her she was running around this corner. Did you see where she went?"
I pretended to look thoughtful for a moment then waved my arm off further down the path, away from the vent. "I think I saw her run off that way but I didn't really pay attention. I can't see them now though so I think she must be long gone or found a place to hide."
"Dammit!" the salarian exclaimed. "That was Thessian sqeesh. It's some of my best and most expensive fruit!"
"Well," I said evenly, "as unfortunate as that is, it does not excuse your bad manners to my employee when you ran into her. However, I am sure that a one off discount on some of your goods will be sufficient to make amends for your impolite words. Ely, follow him to his workplace. I just need to do something quickly and I will catch up to you."
She nodded and the salarian vendor, clearly still unhappy, led the way back to his store. She held back for just a moment and whispered "Thank you" before heading after him.
As soon as they were out of sight I let out a big slow sigh. When I confronted the salarian I had almost let my rage take control. Last time that happened… well, that was just before Manuel had appeared. I couldn't let that happen at the wrong moment or I would definitely do something I couldn't take back and which I would regret.
I walked casually over to the duct and leaned against the wall, not looking at the vent. I leaned towards it and listened for a moment. Sure enough I heard shuffling. Someone was close to the entrance. A small click made me turn towards it and I saw the vent came out slightly from the wall, no more than a hand span. A recently familiar brown eye peeked through the gap. Good, I thought the girl might have left. I guess she stayed to watch the show.
"Hi," I said, giving the girl a soft smile. "Why don't you stay in here for a little while in case the man comes back. I will be back soon with some drinks for you and your friend. OK?"
The eye moved up and down slowly as the girl nodded her acceptance. Then she disappeared from sight and the vent clicked back in place.
I took a moment looking at the vent. I thought about something I remember Captain Bailey saying in ME2 about the kids in the vents. Duct rats, he called them. The kids that the galaxy has forgotten. I remembered the part about how the kids sometimes just ended up dead while others ended up spaced. I had always had a soft spot for kids. I had even done volunteer work at different youth groups. Now I just happen to run into a homeless kid on the Citadel? Something told me that Manuel may have had something to do with this.
I looked at the place the girl had disappeared and in my mind's eye I had an image of her dead, cut up by a ventilator fan. Well, that decided it. It wasn't part of my original plans but maybe there was something else I could do here. It wasn't Jason, but it was a start.
With my mind now busy making more plans, I set off after Ely.
…
A/N Follow/Favourite if you like; up to you. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Trolls are ignored.
Lots of filler, I know, but setting up the story is important too. Once the intro chapters are done the pace will pick up.
I am looking for suggestions for the name of the ship. If anyone can think of a cool name then send it in and I will choose the best one. Either through PM or in the review, either works.
