Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System
Omega's outer perimeter
1613 Local Time, July 10th, 2185 Gregorian Calendar
"Last minute equipment check. ANYTHING is off, fix it, and do it quickly. We're going to the ass-end of the uncivilized galaxy, so I don't want any surprises." Irill Or'Zaal ordered his team, speaking with much more strength, confidence, and authority than he did when he first commanded them.
"Sir, yes sir!" His subordinates (with the exception of the practically mute Wraith) all replied in unison. They too became more at ease and responsive to his commands.
Over the last few weeks, the Null Group had been quite busy. Deployed to outlying worlds in the Terminus Systems they combed the wicked criminal paradise for Shadow Broker's agents and operatives. And while it was evident from Broker's increasingly creative cover-ups and misdirection that he was becoming more nervous by the day, it was hardly a walk in the park for the Nulls. Even with the backing of the Military Intelligence, various listening posts, and exorbitant sums of money spent on finding even the slightest traces of the Broker's network, whether within or outside of the Empire, the best they could usually find would be a contractor or a middleman, both likely hired by the Broker through a third party.
The most uncomfortable truth was also that some of their leads DID clearly point to individuals who could potentially be important for the function of large sections of the Network. But they could not pursue these leads because more often than not they led to prominent public figures within Citadel Space - figures that they were explicitly forbidden to target because of the unstable diplomatic situation between the Empire and the Citadel. Many times Irill had to bitterly stomach the refusal of the Frontier Command to deploy the Null Group into Citadel Space to hunt down these suspected contacts.
Here in the Terminus, however, they had a free reign and were now on the hunt for a minor information broker that they were positive was linked to the Shadow Broker. From intel they recovered on Garvug and combined with interceptions made by the Naval Intelligence, they had both the ID and the location of the bastard. And they were ready to put a squeeze on him until he sang out every last note.
"All ready?" Irill asked, and after receiving a chorus of confirmations, he turned towards the cockpit. "Blink, take us in."
"At once, Captain." An emotionless mechanical voice replied.
Their team had undergone a sort of subtle metamorphosis since their formation, one that had the most to do with the relationships between Irill and his subordinates. During missions he had for the most part referred to them by their numbers. The notable exception was 'Five', whom Irill usually called 'Wraith' - the not-so-affectionate nickname given to the mentally ruined biotic by High General Tivennia, which sort of stuck. He remained as the sole exception of Irill's teammates for the first half of their recent deployments.
Until the day before their deployment to Korlus.
[FLASHBACK]
Irill made his way to Null Four's quarters late into the evening, having received a report that the tech specialist had supposedly finished the rumored VI assistant that they would be able to use during their missions. Apart from proper manners (he deemed it appropriate to address the report personally, so as to show care for his new subordinates), it was genuine curiosity that pushed him to make the visit himself. Four's coding and hacking abilities received high praises from the High Generals Seviros and Tivennia, so he was eager to see the result of his work on the VI.
When Irill entered the room, he saw Four sitting on the edge of his bed. Upon seeing his superior arrive, the tech specialist immediately stood at attention. The almost mechanical manner in which he moved was incredibly uncanny, leaving Irill uncomfortable.
"Captain." The soldier saluted.
"At ease." Irill raised his rand, annoyingly eliciting no response, as if Four did not understand the command. "I received your report on the VI assistant. Is it truly finished?"
"Yes, sir. All the basic and intermediary functions are in place. Advanced upgrades will be implemented after the initial combat test, following all the necessary bugfixes." Four answered, still standing at attention.
"I want to see it." Irill said, and his subordinate dutifully led him to a small desk in the second corner of the room.
At first glance the desk was a mess, with a portable computer, some wires, tools, and various other instruments of unknown purpose and design lying about. However after a closer inspection, Irill could faintly see a method in this disorder. Tools, left seemingly at random, were not stacking up on one another, and all of them were easily accessible to either the right or left hand. So even if Irill had trouble making sense of this unorthodox organization, it wasn't unreasonable to think that an equally unusual mind such as that of the brainwashed Null Four could do so with little issue.
In the middle of the desk was a small metallic prism. Several cables were plugged into it, and once Four had begun disconnecting them, Irill realized that this was the VI in question, most likely in its dormant state. Moments later, Four pressed a button on the side of the prism, causing it to light up and emitting a small holographic projection around it.
"Systems online. Calibrating optical sensors." A soft synthetic voice came from the device, as the holographic that surrounded it took a more defined form. Moments later the glowing particles formed into an 'eye', which, after flashing several times, gazed first at Null Four then at Irill. "Greetings, Captain Or'Zaal. My current designation is 'Test Run Model number 32'. How can I be of service?"
Well well, it really does work... assuming it's something more than a glorified chatbot. Irill mused, then quickly realized something. "You programmed it with my data?"
"Correct. It recognizes every member of the Null Group." Four replied. "It is expected to assist in threat recognition, provide tactical information and guidance, as well as assist in conducting cyber attacks or conduct them autonomously."
"I see." Irill nodded, although he quickly noticed an issue. "It needs a callsign. 'Test Run Model 32' is a bit mouthful to say on the battlefield. Give it a proper name for the sake of brevity, a short one preferably."
Four twisted his head, as if perplexed by the request. His usually relatively curious stare was now unfocused and distant. "Name... what should a proper name... be?"
Irill immediately regretted his words, cursing himself mentally, having remembered the words of the High Generals. He was not to give them any names, but in the moment he totally forgot about it, and now one of his brainwashed subordinates was having thoughts about names.
"Forget it, I'll try to figure something out, just-" He tried to salvage the situation, but Four was already deep in thought.
"Does Null Five have a proper name? Is Wraith a proper name?"
Realizing that this unforeseen situation may spiral out of his control, Irill tried to regain focus. He glanced at the prism housing the VI in an attempt to think of something. The VI for its part remained glued to him with its eye, which occasionally flickered and flashed, seemingly blinking at him. After a brief moment of intense brainstorming, Irill looked at the VI and figured that he had to go in with the simple and bland for now, lest the problem would get out of hand.
"Blink... yeah, let's go with Blink. It's short and simple, exactly what we need for brevity." He said. "Have it programmed to respond to that name."
This must have been enough, as Four seemed to have returned to the present. He straightened up once again and, after a quick salute, sat down at the desk and began to reconnect some of the cables. Irill took this as his cue to leave, heading back towards the door. However, as he walked through it and it began to close around him, he heard Four silently talking to himself.
"What is my name?"
Irill clenched his fist in frustration once the two of them were separated. He cursed his negligence, knowing full well that this can of worms he just opened wouldn't be closed so easily. And it was just his luck that the the member of his team that's having these sorts of thoughts now is the one with arguably the most intact out-of-the-box thinking skills. His saving grace was the fact that the brainwashed soldiers hardly talked to one another, even less so in between missions. But knowing that this problem could spill out onto the other three, he needed a plan.
With a burning feeling of anger and embarrassment in his chest, Irill pinched the base of his inner set of jaws, trying to think of a solution. He really had no good options, but out of all the terrible ones, he narrowed it down to three least bad picks.
First, he could obviously report it to the High General Council, something that conventional military protocol would certainly encourage him to do. However, that would most likely cause delays, as the team was psychologically examined and potentially re-brainwashed. This would no doubt make his overall job harder, since most his assignments as the new leader of the Null Group were usually time-sensitive. Any postponement could be disastrous.
Second, he could simply ignore it. This had the benefit of being the least costly option in the long term if nothing came of Four's philosophical deliberations. But obviously in case something DID come of them, the damage would likely be more severe, forcing him back to the first option. And even then it would be more difficult and time-consuming than if he just reported it in immediately.
Third, and arguably the most unpredictable option, he could formalize the naming system - a direct violation of the guidelines given to him by the High General Council. Yet, in his defense, it was apparent that the brainwashing process was perhaps not as thorough as the High Generals believed. Operating under faulty intelligence wasn't a rare phenomenon, probably as old as sentient life itself. And perhaps it would be better for him to give his teammates new identities than potentially have them rediscover their old ones, given their criminal background. Granted, he was now openly questioning the intel and the decisions of the High General Council, but over the years of service in the Special Forces Irill learned that this sort of unconventional approach had merit.
With much unease and doubt, he opted for a limited implementation of the third idea to check its viability. He would try to give a proper name or nickname to one of his subordinates and study the reaction. Naturally Null Four was the prime candidate, considering that he was the one having thoughts about it. Now to choose a name.
Four was the smartest and most analytical of all five of them. Irill had to admit that the hacker's mind was probably even greater than his own, in spite of all the brainwashing. Combined with excellent technical and cyber warfare skills, he was arguably the sharpest tool in their Null Group Shed, cutting through any standard security within seconds, with more robust systems taking a few minutes at most to crack. With all that 'sharpness', and in line with the previous and not really original naming convention, Irill thought up of a short and fitting nickname.
Slice. Yes, it'll do. He thought, now burdened by the task of actually giving that name to Four in a proper manner.
[FLASHBACK END]
That was the beginning of their team's transformation. Irill officially bestowed the new name onto Null Four before they touched down, and continued to use it (albeit with some initial difficulty) for the entire duration of their assignment on Korlus. Fortunately the newly christened Slice did not change his behavior, accepting the name without much issue, and the same was largely true for the rest of the team.
And the star of the show was their new VI assistant anyway. Blink, despite some initial hiccups, exceeded all of Irill's expectations and immediately became an integral part of the team. Its observations and suggestions were brief and to the point, and having a figurative 'eye in the sky' was also useful on many different levels.
But seeing the success of his naming system on the side, Irill already thought of giving nicknames to his other teammates. They were completely loyal to him, and truth be told he was growing quite fond of them over the recent weeks. His fear of them suddenly going off the rails was mostly laid to rest by Slice, who actually seemed to perform slightly better with the new name. Perhaps, even after being brainwashed so thoroughly, they just wanted the tiniest sense of identity - something Irill could very much understand.
So after Korlus he got to work, trying to come up with simple and catchy names that were also befitting the roles and identities of his squadmates. Over the next missions, the whole roster was named, with Null Three receiving the name 'Killstreak' (for his exemplary performance on Korlus where he held off an entire platoon of Blue Suns mercenaries by himself) and Null Two becoming 'Roadkill' (a callback to their first mission on Tortuga where he was almost run over by a Grizzly AFV before blowing it up). Not the most original or creative of names, but they were short, simple and did the job.
As for the inevitable issue of the higher commands discovering that he disobeyed orders, Irill had Slice and Blink edit all the outgoing helmet camera and audio files so that whenever any of them referred to each other by their names, the voice would be corrected to say what the higher commands wanted to hear. It wasn't an ideal solution, but they were sending video footage sporadically anyway, and the edits were incredibly well made. Had he not been there and said the words themselves, Irill would have sworn that the footage was real and unedited. Now the higher-ups could have still gone over the footage with the help of fully evolved AIs and probably spot the edits, but they were yet to chastise him for it. So either they hadn't done it, or they had, and kept silent about it, which he would take as a silent permission.
*THUMP*
Their shuttle shook slightly as it docked to their assigned airlock, finally connecting their ship to one of Omega's docking bays. All of the Nulls stood up at once, weapons in hand and heads turned towards the airlock. This was it. They were now entering 'hostile territory', about to be surrounded by the worst scum and villainy in the entire galaxy. The old and badly maintained docking clamp creaked and moaned, even after successfully attaching itself to the carvin vessel.
Irill took point, stopping in front of the airlock of their ship, waiting for it to open. Behind him stood his men, with their eyes sharp and cautious. After a few seconds the airlock finally opened, letting in the dense, stale and polluted air of the station. Omega was welcoming them.
"Move out." Irill said sharply, stepping out of the comfortable confines of their ship. As they left and the airlock once again closed behind them, he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Blink, lock down the system and have the automated defenses stand at the ready. Anything happens, I want to know."
"At once, Captain." The VI emotionlessly acknowledged the order.
They marched in close formation, with Irill ahead, Roadkill and Slice on his sides, while Killstreak and Wraith covered the rear. The bystanders gave them unpleasant glares as they passed by. Surprise, confusion, curiosity, fear, anger, the emotional package was always the same wherever they went. The only real difference this time was the average state of intoxication of the local population.
Despite it making Irill uneasy during the first few missions, he had grown desensitized to this sort of behavior. He too was curiously staring when he was faced with the first alien he had ever seen. His teammates were also left unfazed, likely one of the side effects of their brainwashing. But they were still undoubtedly on high alert, even if they did not show it.
"Stick together and remember where we are. Eyes peeled for the target." Irill ordered, wincing at the disgusting smell of Omega's polluted atmosphere. "Find that salarian. I want him alive."
Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System
Omega, Afterlife
1622 Local Time, July 10th, 2185 Gregorian Calendar
Aria T'Loak had not expected any more carvins to arrive on her station anytime soon. After she brokered the agreement between Shepard and the Carvin Empire, the latter had done little to interfere in Omega's matters. Sure, their blockade of most Relay connections leading to Omega was still in effect, and the complains from her smuggler associates did not die down, but the carvins did not seem interested in pursuing their interests outside of the immediate frontier separating the Citadel Space and their Empire. They respected the autonomy of Omega and Aria in turn went out of her way to maintain neutral relations with them.
Which was why she was somewhat surprised to learn that a small carvin stealth vessel had entered the system and docked at the station. Not much larger than the one that brought the carvin liaison to Omega the first time they decided to visit, although clearly more advanced. She was now looking at the surveillance footage from the docks, having received reports of the carvin arrival just moments before.
They were an odd bunch. Five individuals of military background (as made evident by their sophisticated equipment), roamed around the immediate area of the docks and the nearby market, asking questions. Normally she would likely be able to eavesdrop on them, as well as have a good visual on the suspects. But wherever the carvins went, the surveillance equipment seemed to stutter, or even outright fail. At first she viewed it as yet another instance of her underlings skimming off the top from the maintenance funds she issued to keep her information network functional at all times. However the problems seemed to disappear once the carvins were well out of sight, indicating that the issues were... externally induced.
"Anto, get Ahz on the line. I need him to check something." She said, not taking the eyes off the datapad.
"On it, Boss." The batarian nodded, stepping away with an activated omni-tool, while Aria observed the actions of the carvins through the partially malfunctioning camera.
The group were approaching various different individuals - docking clerks, vendors, simple bystanders - asking questions that could not be understood due to the jamming. But every time the answer seemed to be negative. Aria learned from a very young age to judge people, and from the limited interactions she had with the carvins, she pieced together what she was seeing. They were looking for something, or someone.
Now this wasn't all that strange. Many people flocked to Omega, for a myriad of reasons. Most often it was the outlaws, fleeing authority from the more 'civilized space', but also influential people, businessmen, the greedy, the poor, the desperate, everyone. Just a year ago Aria would have sworn that the only sort that did not end up here was the righteous, but the brief appearance of Archangel tore that assumption to shreds. But which one of these groups could the carvins be interested in?
"Aria? Are you receiving this?" A salarian voice came from the datapad as a pop-up appeared in the corner of the screen.
"Yes. Thank you for a quick response, Ahz. Hopefully I did not disrupt your operations too much by requesting your help on such a short notice." Aria answered, now glancing at the salarian's face displayed next to the camera feed.
"Not too much. Though I am trying to squash some bugs that have somehow gotten into the system. Just trying to make sure that the network is fully operational." Ahz said from the other side. "What do you need?"
"Are those bugs of yours perhaps in the surveillance system?" Aria asked softly, suspecting that her tech specialist may have already acknowledged the issue, at least partially.
Ahz tensed up, which was all the answer she needed. He was good at his job and he was loyal, both of which were the prime traits Aria was looking for in the people she introduced to her inner circle. "Yes... I don't know who reported this to you, but it's a very recent issue. Thankfully it's mostly localized, I'll have it fixed in no time."
"I was hoping we could do it now." She replied, glancing back at the camera feed. "Take a look at the feed from camera 8729D at the docks."
The salarian did as she asked, and now both of them were looking at one of the many corridors across the crowded area of the docks. Nothing major was going on, and the few people that were visible on the screen were hardly sticking out of the larger collective of Omega.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to see here..." Ahz said, shifting his gaze to a second monitor in his office. "Although there is some traces of code corruption... interesting."
"Run it back two minutes and watch closely." Aria ordered. He did as she asked and for around half a minute nothing interesting happened.
But then the footage began to flicker, and the quiet chatter of the people in the vicinity slowly gave way to static. Shortly after the five barely recognizable carvin figures walked into view. Through what little could be discerned, Aria saw the pedestrians hastily getting out of the way of the marching soldiers. No audible reaction was recorded, as the audio was also corrupted.
"I see... That explains a lot. " Ahz nodded with understanding, then started intensely typing. "This jamming is no work of a simple program. I suspect they are using a relatively advanced Virtual Intelligence to conceal themselves."
"Not themselves. Turning all footage of them into static is hardly the best concealment. They're hiding their intentions. It's the best they can do under the circumstances." Aria corrected him, switching the view to the camera showing the current position of the carvins near a market. The cyborgs were asking yet another clerk for something, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make out what the question was. "Can you get through the jamming?"
"I can try." The salarian dutifully replied, but his optimistic expression was soon replaced by a frown. "Strange... these very same runtimes... they're not just infecting the surveillance system. They're going beyond it, into local databases and servers, although the effects are mostly benign there." His arm movement intensified, and before long the scrambling partially subsided from the feed. "There. Should be at least partially understandable."
Indeed Ahz's words rang true. Heavily distorted voices could be heard, and the view became clear enough for the individual silhouettes to become more recognizable. The camera shot showed five carvins from the side surrounding the stall of Marsh at the market, separating him from all possible avenues of escape and making the batarian merchant visibly uncomfortable. He was speaking emotionally and erratically, while the carvin leader seemed to barely move at all.
"-told you I don't know. He was-*static*-weeks ago, but now who knows-*static*-he's holed up? Could have left Omega for all I care." Marsh told the carvins, his body shifting in unease and discomfort.
"We-*static*-is here." The carvin leader answered softly but with an edge. "This could be beneficial for both sides."
He then activated his omni-tool, and in an all too familiar motion extended his hand towards Marsh - a monetary incentive.
"I'd take the bargain if-*static*-something to offer!" Marsh snapped. "But I don't, and even if I lied, your kind hasn't exactly made its fame through forgiveness. Many of us here had acquaintances and business partners on Tortuga. And I *static* value my life."
A surprisingly astute observation from someone of Marsh's sort, that much even Aria had to admit. The carvins had already made a name for themselves in the Terminus Systems during their very short observable presence. And, as Marsh so aptly put it, they weren't known to be forgiving. They (or at least their government and military) viewed any and all betrayal as a direct affront to themselves, and any such act was always repaid with several times the strength and ruthlessness if possible. Their reprisals were swift and decisive, with a few rivaling even the plague-like hordes of the Blood Pack in cruelty, going deep into the realm of atrocities.
In response to such a bold and perhaps desperate refusal by Marsh, a large bulky carvin, far bigger than any Aria had seen before, stepped forward and leaned over the counter, as if reaching for the batarian's face with its jaws. Marsh became even more terrified, but the group's leader raised his hand, and the massive carvin immediately stepped away, doing little to reassure the merchant. Thanks to Ahz's efforts both the footage and the audio became almost completely clear.
"Look, you want to find someone? Go-*static*-Aria. She's the one calling the shots around here." The batarian suggested, trying his best to control the shaking of his voice.
The carvin leader seemed to ponder the advice for a short while, staring intensely into the lower pair of the black pearly eyes before him. Although the advice was one-sidedly sound, his body language made it apparent that this particular option was hardly a preferable one from his perspective. But despite her best efforts, Aria couldn't fully understand why. Carvin Empire wasn't openly opposed to limited cooperation with her in the past. And if she had the potential to quickly help them find their target, why were the ever-efficient carvins so reluctant to come to her for aid?
"I see." The leader finally nodded before stepping away from the counter. "I won't waste your-*static*. Should you find some information that could be useful for our search, my offer still stands."
As he uttered the final words, Aria saw the jaws of the carvin twist into a displeased grimace. It could be seen so briefly yet so clearly by those who knew how to recognize the still relatively obscure carvin body language. But now it was gone, the carvins shifted back to their stoic and emotionless demeanor, ready to continue their search... or so it seemed.
One of the troopers suddenly stopped, before slowly shifting their face towards the camera. The motion was almost mechanical, taking Aria aback slightly, who observed the strange behavior of the soldier. These operatives were clearly of different rank and branch than the liaison that she briefly met before. Their armor was bulkier, the implants more sophisticated, and their faces covered completely by a peculiar visor. Both of the large carvin eyes seemed hollow and lifeless. Only tiny specks of white - reflections of the few surrounding orange lights - contrasted the otherwise dark and metallic helmet.
The trooper then flinched violently, pulled out a pistol, pointed at the camera and fired a shot, causing the screen to once again erupt into static.
"Well... that's that." Ahz remarked. "And curiously the runtimes that were running wild within the network are either deleting themselves or transferring their data somewhere else."
"They know they were discovered by a third party." Aria said, putting down the datapad. She then turned towards Anto, who dutifully stood at attention next to her. "Send some people to find out what the carvins were asking about, and get another group to tail the carvin team. Keep your distance and under no circumstances engage them first. I'll join you soon."
"Will do." Anto replied and immediately set off to put her plan into motion, leaving Aria alone to contemplate the events that transpired.
There was undoubtedly a worrying spike of suspicious activity in and around her domain in the most recent years, far too large for her comfort. First the Collectors, then Shadow Broker, the combined gangs of Omega plotting to take her down, and now most recently the carvins. All of them were powerful players, and even if some of them ultimately weren't interested in wrestling Omega out of her hands, these encroachments were still concerning.
Omega was her turf, but with every incursion Aria felt more and more under siege. She knew very well the risks of standing alone as well as the perks of powerful allies. After all it was through her cunning and connections that she managed to claim this station for herself. Thus she elected to address the matter of the carvins directly and personally, if only to find out the true reason for their arrival and maintain an image of a strong ruler.
Hiding the frown of annoyance with a stone cold mask of confidence, she stood up from her couch and glanced at Grizz, who nodded with understanding. He would take over security of the Afterlife during her absence. In the meantime Aria made her way down, hopefully to join the scouts that Anto had dispatched previously.
Nothing, absolutely nothing happened on Omega without her knowing about it.
Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System
Omega, Lower Afterlife
1626 Local Time, July 10th, 2185 Gregorian Calendar
Irill was starting to feel annoyed. Not just because of the disgusting and despicable environment of Omega. That already made its impact on his mood the moment he made his first step into this Star-forsaken place. No, he was annoyed by the progress of their mission. Or more specifically the complete lack thereof.
Normally he would have no problem strong-arming the locals into telling him the truth, the carvin reputation alone loosening most of the less stubborn tongues. But in an ironic twist, the citizens of Omega either did not have the information he was seeking, or if they did know something, it was not substantial enough to be of any help. And now to top it all off he and his soldiers have attracted attention of other actors, which meant that their timetable just got even more strained.
"Captain, my programs have been discovered within the wider Omega security network. Surveillance scrambling is no longer operational." Blink reported just as Slice shot one of the security cameras. "Requesting permission to permanently disable any encountered instruments of surveillance."
"Denied. We've already been discovered. No need to draw any more attention to our presence." Irill staunchly refused, and all five of them headed down a small set of stairs, passing some vorcha scavengers along the way. "We're going to the Afterlife lower levels. Keep quiet and don't start a fight. The last thing we need is Aria T'Loak taking a bigger interest than we're comfortable with."
That last part he made sure to emphasize extremely well. He did not deceive himself into believing that the 'Pirate Queen of Omega' would simply ignore their presence on the station, but having her remain passive was preferable to any potential active involvement in their mission. Ideally they would not interact at all and part ways once Irill found the target and wrung him for all the info he had on the Broker. But that possibility was slowly becoming more and more unlikely.
Feeling more and more tense, Irill led his men into the lower Afterlife, right under under the both figurative and literal seat of Aria T'Loak's power. The music was fast, loud and basy, to the point that it could be physically felt even under the armor. His noise-cancelling helmet struggled to drown away the bass while at the same time keeping the quieter sounds still audible. Combined with the flashing neon lights and the stench of alcohol and narcotics, it was as if the whole room was assaulting their senses. No doubt this served other more... nefarious purposes too.
Irill passed by the various aliens who were not very good at hiding their glances. Some did not bother to hide theirs at all, but regardless he paid them no mind. Flanked on his sides by Slice and Roadkill, he approached the salarian bartender in the central part of the room. The man was now serving a pair of humans some strange purple liquid. When he saw the carvins approaching, he flinched quite visibly, immediately arousing Irill's suspicion.
"Hello." He said, looking the bartender in the eyes. The humans slowly backed away from him with their drinks in hand, but he ignored them. "Something wrong?"
"Ah, no... not really. Just that... the last time I was serving a carvin, there was a fight right where you're now standing. Not your standard brawl, mind you, a bit worse than that. And you know how first impressions are." The salarian let out a nervous chuckle, visibly struggling to maintain eye contact. Strangely though, there was no deceit in his voice. Perhaps he genuinely had a traumatizing experience. "Anyway, how may I help you?"
"We are looking for someone... one of your people." Irill spoke softly, with a calm tone he practiced on all the other inhabitants of Omega he was questioning. "And I thought you could us help find them."
"Uh, there's many people of all species passing through here every day. You're going to have to be more specific than that." The bartender said, having calmed down somewhat.
"He's a middle-aged salarian, of light brown complexion. To the best of our knowledge he works as an information broker, operating both here and on other worlds in the Terminus Systems." Irill elaborated, and when the salarian did not seem any less lost, he added "He goes by the name 'Ish' and we are positive that he is onboard this station at the moment."
At the sound of the name, the bartender perked up. "Oooooh! Right, Ish. I should have known from the description, he would sometimes meet his clients here."
Hearing these words was like an adrenaline shot for Irill. Finally they had a potential lead. And if the bartender couldn't point them to their target directly, he might know his clients who could.
Irill leaned in closer, resting his hands on the bar stool. The metal screeched when it made contact with the glass surface, but he was undeterred. "Splendid. Do you perhaps know how to reach him, or at least know someone who does? We're interested in his services."
"Hmmm..." The bartender frowned, visibly in deep thought. "I can't point you to him directly... but you could talk to Aria to-"
"Aria has many important people already waiting in line to settle their business with her." Irill interrupted, his jaws twitching ever so slightly from annoyance. He was sick of always being pointed in one direction, and the surge of hope he felt just moments before began to evaporate at a rapid rate. "And we cannot afford to wait in that line. If you know anyone who may put us in contact with him, we would be extremely grateful... as well as generous with our compensation."
Hearing that, the salarian fell silent for a brief moment, scratching his chin as if trying to remember something. Irill was already about to give up on the man when the latter suddenly lifted his finger in an apparent revelation.
"Yes. I remember now. Ish sometimes does business alongside his partner, Sel. He's another salarian, who often visits the commercial Tuhi District for deals of his own. Maybe you can find him there." He said with a pleased expression.
"Describe him." Irill requested, perhaps more harshly than he should have.
"Grey skin, slim, usually wearing relatively refined clothes, easily spooked, even more so than Ish himself. Can't give you more than that I'm afraid. You'll have to ask around." The salarian answered apologetically. "Anything else I can help you with?"
Irill was about to say 'no', when suddenly out of the blue, Roadkill stepped in closer, his eyes glued to the bottle that used to contain the purple liquid the two humans were drinking. In a move that absolutely astonished Irill, he lifted his gaze up at the bartender and spoke with a deep guttural voice "A glass of that."
Moments later a serving of that purple drink with a straw stood before them, and Roadkill glanced at Irill with anticipation, almost like a child waiting for their parent's permission to do something they weren't sure they could do. For a moment all of them stood in complete silence looking at each other motionlessly.
A multitude of thoughts raced through Irill's head, ranging from surprise, to amusement, to absolute horror at the sudden increase in expressiveness. His paranoia screamed at him to put a stop to this immediately and report this issue to his superiors. But his curiosity encouraged him equally loudly to go along with it. Time around him seemed to accelerate and with every second it felt like an eternity has passed. Realizing that waiting any longer risked making a scene - the last thing they needed at the moment - against his better judgement Irill nodded and instinctively activated his omni-tool to pay for the drink.
In one swift motion, Roadkill grabbed the glass and stuck the straw into his mouth, before downing the liquid within seconds. Throughout all this, the eyes of his other teammates were glued to him, exhibiting a strange sort of fascination and curiosity, even under their cold metallic visors.
When he was done, Roadkill placed the glass back on the stool, licked off the remaining drops from the edges of his inner jaws and said "Sweet... soft taste."
"Ah yes. Thessian liqueur. Softer on the liver than the majority of drinks we have. Most people here prefer stronger beverages." The bartender remarked, somewhat snapping Irill back to reality.
He still couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. The Nulls never, EVER, made these sorts of requests in the past. Everything was always about the current mission objective. They seemed to act almost like organic automatons. To see one of them behave so out of character was... uncanny. The only thing that came anywhere close was Slice's inquiry into names. Nonetheless, Irill turned back towards the bartender, hastily nodded in appreciation and sent him a very generous tip as thanks for his assistance, before silently gesturing at the Nulls to follow him. They obeyed without question as usual, though this time he kept glancing at them nervously, studying them for any signs of insubordination.
When none made themselves apparent, he led them out of the club and into a narrow alley without any witnesses or cameras. He snapped back and looked Roadkill directly in the eye and asked "What... in the name of the Stars... was that?"
He uttered every word slowly and carefully, trying to hold at bay the stress that was on the verge of overtaking him. The rest of the Nulls also observed the scene in complete silence.
"The smell. It was pleasant." Roadkill answered in the same simplistic and childish manner he used before.
Irill froze, unable to believe what he was hearing. Had it been a normal carvin rookie standing before him at that moment, he would have punched the teeth out of them without a second thought. Such a sorry excuse of an explanation would not have been accepted on any level of the military organization. Instinctively he lifted his open palm up, anger and fear boiling inside him.
And yet when he looked at the brainwashed husk of a man before him, Irill could not bring himself to strike. Behind the lifeless eyes he saw what he probably should have seen a long time ago - a man regressed to his most basic and primitive intelligence. The blind obedience, the devotion and fierce protectiveness that his men exhibited towards him, and especially the almost juvenile curiosity that he had seen back in the bar - he stood before a child in mind, trapped in the body of a fully grown adult. The revelation felt cold and almost painful.
"I'll deal with you after the mission." He uttered through his jaws almost closed shut. "From now on, you speak to the locals only when I explicitly-"
"Alert. Potentially hostile contacts behind us." Blink interrupted, prompting all five of them to suddenly perk up and shift their gazes towards the hallway they just walked down.
For a split second a faint silhouette of someone could be seen observing them from afar before vanishing behind a shadowy corner. Even with thermal vision, the exposed wiring, leaky pipes and other machinery interfered with their systems too much to determine the identity of their follower.
"Any ID on them?" Irill asked, slowly reaching for his rifle.
"Negative. My scans indicated they were batarians. However, given their prolific presence on the station, it is impossible to accurately determine their allegiance." Blink answered. "Nonetheless it is possible that they were sent by Aria T'Loak, as she may have taken notice of our actions. Affiliation with other gangs also plausible."
Fantastic. Irill's irritation truly had no limits on this assignment. He hadn't expected the Pirate Queen to become so proactive so quickly. "Whoever they are, leave them. Keep an eye on them, but I want no shooting unless they turn openly hostile."
He felt like a broken record, repeating it over and over, but, given the recent revelations, it was very likely that he was dealing with children in all but age.
They quickened their pace, marching fast through the narrow hallways of the station. The sound of their metal legs reverberated loud enough that even people who were far ahead of them could hear it and move out of the way in time. Knowing that Aria T'Loak was probably onto them, every glance, every hostile look made Irill feel like they were about to be jumped by her thugs. Phantom pains in his left eye socket returned in spite of his best efforts to remain calm.
Finally, after a few minutes, they reached the area where they were supposed to find Sel. Despite many wide terraces, not too dissimilar from those around the Afterlife, it was crowded and difficult to move around in, further impeding their efforts to locate their target. Nonetheless, all five of them kept their eyes peeled for any salarian that behaved somewhat suspiciously.
"Blink, try to get a read on all of the salarians in the vicinity. I'm authorizing an intrusion into the security systems, but keep it local." Irill ordered, shifting his gaze from person to person multiple times in a single second.
"Yes, Captain." The VI answered. "Be advised, scouts who followed your path are now also in the area, 140 degrees left."
Bad news, as if they did not have enough already. When they pushed through a small crowd and one of the pedestrians started shouting out racial slurs at them, Irill had to summon all of his strength to stop himself from lashing out at the scumbag.
Then, in the mass of people cursing them out and greeting them with offensive gestures, he saw a salarian that mostly fit the description provided by the bartender. Slim as all of his kind, grey complexion, refined clothes, though not flashy by any means, the alien had an appearance of someone dignified, but not one to draw too much unnecessary attention. Ideal for someone in the business of trading information.
He was talking to a turian local when their eyes met, and at that moment Irill saw everything he needed to know that this man was the one he was looking for - shock and fear. Sel quickly looked away and began to hastily excuse himself from the conversation, much to the surprise of his turian interlocutor. Still, he managed to leave relatively calmly, now moving away from Irill and the Nulls at a rapid pace.
"Blink, check that salarian." Irill said, pinging the individual on his HUD. "Any chance that he's the man?"
"Physical traits match the data provided by the Afterlife bartender. Evasive behavior also suggests that this is indeed the case." Blink replied, now using his programs to outline Sel's silhouette on his display. "Be advised, the target is moving towards the elevators. Recommend haste."
"Can't risk a scene in this crowd. We'll intercept him once he gets in." Irill said. "Breach their security and figure out which floor he's going to."
No reply came this time, but he knew that the VI would fulfill his orders to the letter, as it had done in the past.
As they expected, Sel walked into the elevator and promptly closed the doors, separating himself from the Nulls who were silently pursuing him. But Irill's jaws twisted into a wicked grin when a pop-up appeared on his HUD, showing the interior of the elevator and their quarry selecting the floor. The elevator would go down four levels, so they'd intercept him at the bottom.
"Grapple, now. We're rappelling down." Irill ordered, and he, along with Roadkill, Killstreak and Slice, fastened their grapples onto the edge of the terrace before jumping down.
Their descent was fast, so fast in fact that the perpetually polluted air of the station seemed more fresh, if only for a brief moment. Three levels below them was a parking lot for skycars, meaning that they would still need to go down one level. When they were about two dozen meters from the ground, Irill and the three Nulls rapidly decelerated, their organs churning slightly at the sudden change of velocity. They impacted the ground with a loud *thump*, and a few seconds later Wraith joined them too, having used his biotic powers to descend safely without the grapple lines.
"Move." Irill growled almost ecstatically. Their target was practically within their grasp. Just a few moments and they'd have him - one step closer to finding the Shadow Broker.
They barged through the exit to the parking lot and headed towards the elevator, much to the consternation of the surrounding inhabitants. Most of them froze in fear or scoured away. The target was so close, Irill could almost smell the salarian's fear, and the prospect of squeezing him out for intel was exhilarating.
"Positive match found in one of the internal databases. Suspect confirmed to be Sel." Blink reported before suddenly adding. "Alert! The elevator has stopped one floor above us. Someone else is trying to get in."
"Is the target leaving?" Irill asked.
"Negative. He appears startled." Blink answered and, after a brief pause filled with static, he continued "The surveillance system inside the elevator has been deactivated externally. I am unable to reactivate it."
A cold shiver washed away the ecstasy in the blink of an eye, replacing it instead with uncertainty and worry. A myriad of thoughts ran through Irill's mind about who may be behind this unexpected disruption. Was it the Shadow Broker, the most likely suspect? Or was it Aria T'Loak? Or perhaps even a previously unobserved third party, like the STG, or someone else entirely? And regardless of who it was, this was proof that their presence was acknowledged and had caused a direct response - something he was trying to avoid.
"Try anyway. And watch the feed from the other floors. If he shifts direction, I want to know." He ordered, then glanced at the Nulls, who were looking at him with a hint of anticipation. "Prepare an ambush at the elevator exit. Disperse any bystanders non-lethally and check your fire once the doors open. He's no good for us dead."
The Nulls silently complied, and the five of them walked inside a large and spacious room. Couches, tables, ashtrays, all illuminated by the dim and flickering lights dangling from the ceiling. There were two other exits, to the left and right, while in the center were the metal doors leading to the elevator shaft. The locals who were occupying the room froze in surprise and fear, but this time Irill had no intention of ignoring them.
"Get out! Out!" He shooed them, holding up his rifle at the ready, and the Nulls followed suit, screeching and growling at the civilians, scaring them away from the room.
Only a few seconds remained until the elevator would arrive at this floor, so when a fat volus was moving his stubby little legs a bit too slowly for Irill's liking, he grabbed the massive sentient sphere and lobbed him outside of the room, almost hitting the other civilians that were more quick in their departure. He then slammed the door lock, closing it shut. They were now committed, so speed had to triumph over discretion.
The elevator let out the last of the soft beeps, before a longer, higher-pitched note echoed through the room. Slice and Roadkill were on the very sides of the door, with Irill, Killstreak and Wraith taking cover behind couches and tables in the middle of the room. All of them held their weapons at the ready, with the exception of Wraith, who was glowing purple, ready to unleash his biotic powers at a moment's notice.
With a quiet hiss the doors slowly slid open, revealing two figures, one behind the other.
"Don't try anything, or he's dead." A low voice boomed from the elevator, and Irill's gaze fell upon a frightened salarian, held at gunpoint from behind by a batarian clad in dark brown armor.
"P-Please! Let me go! I-I didn't do anything!" Sel squealed about an octave higher than it was usual for salarians.
Irill did not recognize who this man was, but kept his rifle at the ready, aiming at the space right next to Sel's head, in case the batarian decided to foolishly expose himself. But as his finger rested on the trigger, itching to put a burning hole in between the four eyes of the batarian, a different sound reached his ears - only this time from behind.
He snapped back just in time to see the door they just came through mere moments ago open. In the door frame, surrounded by goons of various races, stood an asari of dark purple skin. Her white coat was fitted with microfiber, her lower lip was adorned by a dark line going downward. The woman commanded respect and authority with her mere presence. It was unmistakable.
"Well well well... look what the varren dragged in." Aria T'Loak spoke softly.
A/N: I could say that to myself again. Now I know that my track record of upload consistency isn't the greatest in the world (something I warned of), but I think it still feels right to apologize. In all seriousness, I set myself a condition that in order to improve this story, I would not write or post a new chapter until I finished rewriting chapter 2. And I tried to do it, but at some point I felt like my writing was so dogshit that I wasn't satisfied with anything I wrote. So I stopped for... well, all this time until the last two months. But somehow, in spite of probably being buried under countless other stories that were probably better and more consistent in their update schedule, people were still finding this story and following it. So this gave me enough motivation to finish the rewrite (it's up now). It's not a complete overhaul, but I feel that now it's less openly hostile and anti-Council. Also, in order to not make this a one-off burst of inspiration, the moment this chapter goes live, I'll be in the middle of writing the next one, so as to keep the momentum going.
And before anyone asks, yes, I know that Ish and Sel aren't Shadow Broker's agents. The reasons behind the carvins thinking that they are will be revealed in the next chapters.