A/N I own nothing. Mass Effect is owned by Bioware

Comments:

This story has already had a bigger response than I had expected. Thank you everyone that has read it, an extra thank you to those that are following and an extra special thank you to those who favourited it! It's very encouraging!

OnkelJo – Thanks for the constructive criticism. I had planned for the lack of background to give at least a little trouble later. As for the other stuff, I will try to avoid logic gaps, if at all possible. That was one of the things I am hoping to avoid in this story.

Thanks for reading everyone. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 3 – INTERVIEW

Hectar'Galon nar Isareel was feeling hopeful for the first time since he had landed on the Citadel. He managed to get passage here nearly five months ago looking for tech work and almost immediately ran into trouble. He just wanted to work and get some money for his Pilgrimage so that he could go back and work on the computer systems on the Isareel. Tech programming was what he did and did better than anyone.

Then he landed and had his money stolen at the docks by some salarian skifter. The only accommodation he could find was a turian shelter where he was excluded, bullied and made to not feel welcomed by any of the homeless turians. He had only never held a job for more than a week at a time and each time had been underpaid. Not because he couldn't do the work; he had completed everything his former employers had asked. They just hadn't paid him because they could get away with it and there was nothing he could do about it and they knew it.

Now, there was a job that was calling specifically for three quarians for extended work. Surely that meant he had a chance to actually make some money and hopefully get back on track with his Pilgrimage. He took the aircar over to Zakera Ward, following the instructions listed in the job placement from the extranet classifieds.

The building he landed in front of seemed like a standard office building, about four stories tall in the standard silver/white colour that most Citadel business buildings seemed to go with when they were closer to the Presidium. Residential buildings too, now that he thought about it. Not that he had ever stayed in one of the residential buildings. He shook off that depressing thought and walked into the building.

Almost immediately his heart dropped. Sitting in the ante room was a desk with an asari matron working at a terminal and nearly thirty other quarians waiting, clearly responding to the same job advertisement. He almost turned around and headed back out the door before realising that if he didn't get this job he had literally nothing else to go back to. With that unsettling thought, he moved towards the asari who looked up as he approached.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite, not showing any sign of disgust at a quarian. A rarity for him.

"Uh, yes, I am here about the jobs that were advertised," Hectar replied.

"Of course," the blue alien replied. She slid a datapad across the desk to him. "If you could just take that and fill in your information and return it to me, then I can put you on the list."

Hectar thanked her and went to stand in a corner to fill out his information. He took a quick look around at the other candidates. There were no other pilgrims that he recognised here. Not that it was unusual. The Isareel was a pretty small ship in the Patrol Fleet, only a few thousand quarians lived on her, and the ship was not a very important one. Not that anyone that lived on her ever complained. There were certainly worse ships to live on; some of them even gave a person a reputation just for having come from there. Like the Qwib Qwib. He turned back to the datapad.

The questions were pretty generic; name, age, ship he departed from on his pilgrimage, how long he had been out. He was happy to be able to say that despite all the discrimination that he had received since he arrived at the Citadel, he was able to honestly state that he had never been arrested by C-SEC. He didn't like seeing the question there but a small part of him couldn't help but understand it. There was a reason why quarians had been labelled thieves. There were only a couple of them that actually stole stuff and it was ages ago, during his parents Pilgrimage, but it made every other pilgrim look bad. It made him angry to think about the damage those few caused the rest of them.

Hectar waited as one by one the other quarians were called in for their interview. Three others on the Pilgrimage walked in behind him, one of whom turned around and walked out. He never saw anyone come back after their interview so no one was ever able to ask questions about it. Some of the other quarians talked quietly with each other before they went in but Hectar stood by himself in a corner of the room. The asari receptionist didn't talk to anyone other than to pass out datapads or to accept the filled out returns. She just tapped away at the console.

Finally Hectar heard his name called and he moved forward from his corner. As he passed the secretary he couldn't help but ask. "Any advice?"

The asari looked up in surprise, as if just realising that he was still there. "Be honest," she said. "He'll know if you're not."

Hectar felt his nervousness increase a little at that. There went the hope of being able to embellish a little. He thanked her and walked through the door.

He found himself in a hallway with no apparent features. He walked slowly down, a little uncertain at what he was supposed to do. He came to a junction with a sign on the wall. It had two arrows, the one pointing left said exit, the right one said interview room. He went right.

He finally came to an open door. It was the only one he had seen so far so he walked in. there wasn't much in the room; just a desk with a box of scrap electronic parts and a datapad. To one side there was a console and a facemask that looked like it was designed to fit over a quarian's suit helmet. It looked like something that had been taken from a shooting arcade for kids, if he was honest.

Seated behind the desk was a human male. He was tall, even sitting down, but quite gaunt, to be honest. He had blonde hair cut short and blue, completely non-glowing eyes. He wasn't sure why that stood out to him. Hectar hadn't had much experience with humans. Despite the noise they seemed to make across the galaxy there were not all that many on the Citadel. The ones that were around tended to stay closer to the Presidium than he was comfortable going to.

What surprised him though were the scars on the human's face. The face itself was unusually pale and there were a lot of faded white scars that could be barely noticed. There were two larger scars that stood out clearly though. The first larger one ran down over his right eyebrow and onto his cheek bone. It looked like someone had slashed his face with a knife and barely missed the eye. The other scar that stood out was a line that went straight from the left ear to the left cheek bone then curved down toward the nose slightly, ending just at the level of the nasal passage. It made him look grim and dangerous. Just looking at him made Hectar feel nervous all over again.

"Welcome," the man nodded at him, voice deep and level with a strange accent. "My name is Brock Neilson. Please take a seat." He gestured to the chair on Hectar's side of the desk.

Hectar sat down, not saying anything. The man looked at him for a long moment then glanced down at the datapad in front of him.

"So, Hectar'Galon nar Isareel," the man continued. "Tell me about yourself."

"Er, what?" Hectar was stumped. Already this wasn't like any job interview had had ever been to before.

"I asked you to tell me about yourself," the man, Mr Neilson, replied. "What type of ship was the Isareel? What did you do there? Are you enjoying your Pilgrimage? Have you found a good Pilgrimage gift for the fleet yet?"

"Er… you know about the Pilgrimage?" Hectar asked, dumbfounded.

"Oh, yes," the man said, his tone neutral. "Quite a bit actually."

"Oh." Hectar was surprised. Not many non-quarians usually cared enough to learn anything about the Pilgrimage. They usually just wanted cheap quarian labour. "Um, well…."

He spent a few minutes talking about himself and his time in the Migrant Fleet. He talked about how he had worked in the maintenance crew on the Isareel and how he specialised in programming but he could work on communication equipment and in engineering. Hectar wasn't sure but he thought he saw a spark of interest flash in the human's eyes when he said that.

After about five minutes he ran out of things to talk about and just sat there while Mr Neilson looked thoughtful as he considered the information he had heard.

"Thank you," the human said at last. He pushed the box of parts towards Hectar. "For the next part of the interview, I want you to make something. Make whatever you want but it must come from the parts in this box."

Hectar tilted his head as he considered the interviewer. He wanted to ask why but he felt like that might make him sound stupid. "How long do I have?" he asked instead.

"You have ten minutes, starting… now!"

Hectar immediately began rifling through the box of spares, feeling a little out of his depth. He could build stuff, most quarians could, but he preferred to program. He ignored his preferences and began to assemble something that came into his mind as he raced to complete it. He started small but after less than a minute he decided that going small might not be enough to get him the job.

"Time!" the human called as Hectar finished the final programming nuances with his omni-tool. "Show me what you have."

Hectar held out his work for inspection. In all honesty it wasn't much to look at. An ugly mess of shapes that had been cobbled together from the parts available. He hoped that the functionality of the machine was enough. Especially as there was no eezo core in the box.

The interviewer looked over the machine, his face seemed… thoughtful? Hectar wasn't sure. This human's face was nearly impossible to read.

"What is it?" the man asked politely.

"It's a universal control port and an intercom system. And I loaded a low quality VI to accept voice commands."

One of the human's eyebrows lifted slightly. "And how is it supposed to work?" he asked, his voice not giving anything away.

Hectar rubbed his hands together, feeling his nerves starting to get the better of him. "Well, you would have it in your ship and you could speak to the VI and it would be able to either follow your commands directly or just open the ship intercom and you can talk to the necessary crewman in any area of the ship."

The interviewer stared at him for a very long moment, not giving anything away. It was actually very unnerving for Hectar. Did he go beyond what the human asked for by using his omni-tool? This human was harder to read than krogan poetry.

"Show me," the human said eventually, passing the device back to Hectar.

Hectar grabbed the machine and looked at it uncertainly. He was suddenly grateful for his face mask being able to hide what he was sure was his doubtful expression. He hoped that he had gotten this right. "Uh, ok." He addressed the machine. "Computer: open external communications, text only. Send this message to all local omni-tools in a five metre radius on unsecured frequency: keelah se'lai."

After a moment that felt entirely too long, both Hectar's and the human's omni-tools chirped to show they had received the message. The interviewer opened his device and acknowledged receipt of the brief phrase.

"Impressive," the human said, closing his tool down again. He took the device back, placed it in the box of parts without dismantling it and put the box behind the desk. He looked back at Hectar with his expressionless face and clasped his hands in front of him. Hectar just stared him in the eye, waiting for the human to do something.

"I am going to be honest with you Mr Galon," the human eventually stated, his tone still not giving anything away. "I am looking for crew members for a ship that will be doing some long distance travels as well as some work here on the Citadel. I am hoping to have the same crew together for a number of years. During this time there will most likely be combat involved. If the crew I choose is not confident or proficient then I am happy to provide training as I will be doing some myself, though the combat will not be for some time, all things going to plan. I understand that many quarians do not particularly wish to serve on ships during their Pilgrimage as they rather work in other ways to be able to find a gift to bring back to the fleet.

"What I am offering though, for the lucky three that will be joining me straight away, will be a regular wage during the course of employment. As a bonus, should any quarian serve with me for longer than a year, I will give them a gift to take back to the fleet. The longer they stay, the better the gift. Would you have a problem serving under a human on a ship if you are selected?"

Hectar was stunned. Some pilgrims took years to find a gift that was not going to be an embarrassment to the fleet. Not many took that long but most took at least a year, more commonly two, and they had to do it without any help. Now there was a human that was going to pay him and give him a Pilgrimage gift if he stuck around? It felt too good to be true. So he hesitated.

"Uh," he stammered. "I… uh… I mean… no I wouldn't have a problem working for a hu… working for you Mr Neilson. But your offer seems… too generous. I feel like there is something that I am not understanding."

For the first time the human's mouth twitched into a very small smile and his pale blue eyes glittered with amusement. "I understand," he said. "I realise that there are many beings in the galaxy that do not very quarians very highly. I, however, have no time for such ill-conceived prejudices. I have a lot of work to do and I don't care who does it. There are criminals and lowlifes in every species, just as there are exceptional beings who do their species credit. The offer may sound too much if you have not received much kindness from other species in the galaxy, but it is genuine. I have contracts being prepared by a lawyer here on the Citadel as we speak. The pay is good because I expect the person receiving the money to work for it. I have no time for useless people. There is far too much to do. If you are offered a place with me then rest assured, you will be doing a lot of work. But I believe that being justly regarded for your effort is motivation enough."

Hectar nodded slowly as he considered the man's words. "What sort of gift are you going to give for the pilgrim?"

The human's smile turned slightly sardonic. "That depends on how much longer they stay under my command and the quality of their work. The better the work, the better the gift. Sound fair?"

Hectar nodded again.

"Good," the interviewer said. "Now, just a few more questions and we will be able to wrap this up."

Most of the questions were typical employer questions like 'what are some of your weaknesses?' but it was the last topic that took Hectar by surprise. "What is your opinion on the geth?"

Hectar froze. He hadn't expected that one. "What do you mean?" he asked, stalling for time.

"Well," Mr Neilson said. "The conflict between the quarians and the geth is very well known. I understand that there are those that are very much for destroying the geth and taking back Rannoch through their extinction. Admiral Rael'Zorah, for example. Others, like Admiral Zaal'Koris, believe that conflict may not be the only solution and that there may be a chance for peace that doesn't include the death of the quarian people. Where do you sit on that debate? And please, be honest."

Hectar sighed. This argument had been going throughout the Migrant Fleet for decades. There were not many that pushed for peace with the geth, but there were certainly some loud voices in the peace camp. And in the war camp too. "Honestly, I don't know," Hectar replied, his voice a little glum. "I think if we had the power to take back Rannoch from the geth through war then we would have done it by now. We all hate the geth for what they did to us but we don't have the numbers to win. Our fleet is a mismatched collection of cast-offs from the other races, except for a few old quarian models. If we are to get our home back then I don't think we can do it through battle. Not yet anyway. Does that mean making peace with the geth? I don't know. I think there is too much hatred for that to happen. Not unless something big changes."

That ended the questions and Hectar left after being told that he would be notified within the next two days whether he was successful or not. As he headed out the hallway, following the 'exit' sign, he couldn't help but feel uncertain as to how he had done. The human had given so little away that Hectar could use to judge how he had gone in the interview. As he walked back into the open street, leaving the building behind, he felt himself hoping that he was successful. Somehow, he just felt like it was going to be… interesting.

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