Chapter Five: Munin

"Peace is his highest value. If the peace has been shattered, how can he be content? His enemies are not demons but human beings like himself. He doesn't wish them personal harm. Nor does he rejoice in victory. How could he rejoice in victory and delight in the slaughter of men?" - Tao Te Ching

The bridge of the ship was cleared after the man had moved the corpses out of the area. He left her alone to pilot the ship while he went off to clean the mess he had made through the rest of the ship. He was strange. One minute, he was an unchained psychopath; the next, he appeared to be human again. Maybe he just really hated Batarians. She did, too, but not enough to do what he did to them. Dez didn't think herself capable of that level of violence. She turned her thoughts off for a little while, trying to decipher the Batarian controls; without her Omni-tool, she had almost no way of reading the instrument panel, but she had learned some over the years.

"Figure anything out yet?" The man returned to the bridge, sighing as he flipped down in a chair at the station beside her. "Systems appear good; we are a few hours out before we hit the other side of the Omega relay."

He let out another airy breath, "Alright." Dez's nerves were still on high alert, and thoughts began swimming around her head. "How are the others doing?" It took a few moments before the man turned his head towards her as if he had lost himself for a few seconds. "About as well as they can be. They took the kids to the bunks to get them away from the cargo bay, and a few stayed with the bodies."

Dez fell into silence, remembering what she saw in the other container. Seeing that almost made her regret her entire career as of late. She tried to push those thoughts back out, knowing that she would have plenty of nightmares about it later.

"What's the plan once we drop out of FTL?" She asked, trying to change her thoughts. "Don't know, haven't gotten that far." His answer was short and annoying. "You have no idea? Why did you even set us free?" Dez saw his face change from relief to annoyance. "Did you want to be a Batarian maid?" he slumped down in the chair, resting his head on his fist against the armrest, grumbling his statement as he slid a lower.

"No," she quickly responded. "You said you weren't Alliance, so who do you work for?" The man smiled and chuckled. "I work for the highest bidder, ma'am. I thought I was doing you a favor. But if you want, I can put you back in chains and shove you back in the box."

A merc? She thought, "Why would a Merc attack this ship?" He turned to the console in front of him, looking through the different screens with his right hand. "Assholes started a fight, I finished." He stopped and turned to her to see her reaction and the Man sighed, "I needed a ride to Omega, paid my way. Then I realized what this ship was, caused an argument and here we are."

"You couldn't tell? Anyone that's spent any time in space knows." The man stretched, cracked his knuckles, and yawned. Blinking repeatedly to clear his eyes. "I'm not from around here. At least not recently, anyway." He used his hand to finish clearing his eyes before flopping it back on the armrest, leaning back harder, trying to get comfortable. He looked undisturbed by everything but still anxious. "Look, we can send a message to the Alliance for a rescue, but I need to be dropped off on Omega; as much as I would like to get a nice shiny medal for my hard work, I still have a job to do."

Dez's heart rate increased. Was it fear? "You're going to leave us. What if we get attacked again?" The man seemed unfazed by her outburst; maybe he didn't care after all.

"Doubtful; two jumps and you're back in Citadel space; just send out of SOS once you hit Ilium, and you'll be fine." The nerve of this man, traveling through space in an unfamiliar ship, with, by the looks of the ship, a poorly maintained shit box, would be suicide. But she did have a few contacts on Omega that could get her and others back to Citadel space. Maybe using her favors she could get the others out safely without his help.

"No, this ship probably won't make it, or at least I don't think it will. I might have a way to get everyone home, but no thanks to you."

The man shrugged, "I did my part." Dez turned her attention back to the console going through the ship's internal diagnostics. "You know you are an asshole." The Man smiled. "So, I've been told."

""""""""""

Hours had passed by, and the ship made its way to Omega. Luckily, the pilot had enough skill to dock the ship and navigate the procedures. Martin was pretty impressed with her talent, so he needn't worry. The thought of leaving them there discomforted him, but he had bigger things to worry about. Trying to find this Quarian wouldn't be easy; he didn't have much, if anything, to go on, just some general locations to check out. However, he did have his own ideas, which occurred to him as he was headed for the airlock.

"Hey, cowboy, We could use some credits for the ride home and food." The pilot defiantly jumped in front of him, preventing him from leaving the ship. Martin may have been a cold bastard, but he wasn't heartless. He knew that he couldn't be there to help and that maybe credits could hasten them back faster. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit chit, the same one he just got back from the Batarian for letting him on board, and some other credits hefoundlying around the ship. "This should be enough; I didn't get the chance to check all their pockets, so there might be more." He watched her face turn to disgust at the idea of looting the dead; her naivete when it came to survival made him giggle on the inside.

The pilot took his credits and returned to the ship not saying a word. He was a bit upset that he had not received a thank you or any sort of acknowledgment, but when had anyone in his past ever done so? He looked back and watched the woman head back into the ship, feeling distant in his decision to help them. Martin knew it was the right thing to do, but the way the captives looked at him with fear or distrust made his skin crawl.

After turning away and taking a breath to clear his thoughts, Martin left the ship, heading out into the Omegan rusty smell. A strange feeling came back to him, a small pressure in his chest as he looked around. Only a year had passed since he had last been here. So much had happened to him, and somehow, it felt like he had spent a decade dancing around the galaxy. Memories of yesterday passed funneled through him; it was a shame it was to the shitty sulfur smell of Omega, or it would have been a more proud moment. As he walked through the station, his mind wandered, remembering his time here. He was almost proud of himself for surviving what he had. Cerberus, Dallas, The Blue Suns, a Spectre. Martin's pride could power a planet for years. As he headed out into the greater part of the station, his mind continued cycling through recent memories, almost blinding his path ahead. Soon, though, his pride began to fade as he blinked back to reality. He needed to get moving.

After a few hours of wandering aimlessly through the docks, Martin found some transportation to the district he remembered. The old, dingy underbelly of Omega was not a very happy place. All manner of foul things usually happened down here, but it was as he remembered it: dark, dry, and dusty from being in close proximity to the old mines. Turning down a small corridor, he saw open up to a large, heavy metal roll-up door partially ajar. Martin stopped at the door; it was strange; old man Rilo never left his door open before. He raised his hand to knock, but as he did, the door finished closing locked and then began to open. Martin waited as the door slowly rose with a loud rumble, waiting to see what was inside.

The Door finished opening three-quarters the way up, and the mechanical mechanisms clunked, the sounds of which traveled throughout the space around him. Martin hesitated for a moment, expecting to see someone, anyone, inside the shop. No one came forward. "Hello?" Martin shouted. There was no response, just the sound of his voice traveling back to him. He began walking in, passing the workstations and machinery. Martin walked to the back of a partially lit shop and around a small wall that was blocking the view of the tight office space. The Quarian was sitting behind his desk but did not speak. "Rilo, you good?" The old Quarian's helmet lifted, his glowing eyes behind the translucent mask made contact with his, but again did speak. Martin reached to his side and gripped his Pistol, "Is everything all right?" His silence made him uneasy as he waited for a response. Rilo sat upright behind his desk; he didn't seem drugged or in distress; an old holo computer and papers sat arranged in front of him; behind him were a few screens on the wall, turned off, and a few cabinets on either side. Martin diverted his attention away from Rilo, drawing his pistol towards one of the cabinets in the corner. Rilo lifted his hand above the desk and folded his six digits on top. Martin looked back at him with his weapon still pointed at the cabinet. He noticed Rilo tapping his left finger and then extending it.Shit

A loud bang from next to him sent a wave of nerves to high alert. In a nanosecond, he turned his head to see a blur charging him. There was no time to react as the figure tackled him into the wall behind Martin. He pistol-whipped the figure in the back of the neck but only hit the armored shell as the thing tried to get to his head. The two fell to the floor, rolling, as the attacker was trying to fight him for his gun. Unfortunately for the attacker, Martin had a second. The loud, thunderous roar bounced through the metal walls that surrounded them. The attacker's strength left him as he quietly struggled and faded. Martin rolled the corpse off of him and stood back up, holstering both of his pistols on his hip.

Martin looked at the corpse.Human,no identifying marks on his armor, so not the Blue Suns. He looked up at Rilo, now standing and looking over his desk at the dead man on his floor.

"You alright?" Martin asked. "Yes, I am fine." The old Quarian's heavy accent finally responded. "What was this about, if you don't mind me asking?"

Rilo pushed himself up off his desk and slowly sat back down in his chair, taking care not to hurt himself in his old age. "This bosh'tet thought I had information about another Quarian."

Rilo pulled his chair closer to his desk. "This Human thought that because I was a Quarian, we somehow knew where all Quarians are." Martin awkwardly cleared his throat, knowing that it was pretty much the same reason that brought him here. "So, did you know where this person was?" Without missing a beat, Rilo looked up at Martin. "Yes, but that is beside the point."

Martin began to show a little smile. "Of course not." He awkwardly quipped. Martin looked back at the body again and gave it another light push with his foot to make sure he was dead. Within the brief silence, the old man stood back up and slowly walked around the desk to the other side of the body. "This may seem strange to say, but it's a different experience to see what you've actually created used for the grim task it was meant for."

Martin lifted his eyes to the slouched old Quarian, his suit old and faded in color. The scratches on the paint of the metal bits were worn away, probably from decades of metalwork. "Yeah, I bet." Martin softly responded.

The old Quarian looked up from the body and tried to straighten his back. "So, what brings you to my shop this time? I see that your weapons work fine."

Martin shook his head, breaking his own contact with the body. "Apparently, I was hoping to make the same mistake as this guy did." Rilo laughed as he slowly shuffled back to his chair.

"Honesty," Rilo said while sitting back down in his chair. "Very rare thing to come by on Omega. To admit to that arrogance, a special kind of rarity."

"Well, I didn't mean anything by it. You are the only Quarian I've ever met."

Rilo looked at Martin, unmoving, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. Maybe he said too much. "Maybe arrogance was the wrong word... ignorance sounds better." Rilo waved his hand in front of him as if shaking away his own comment. "Regardless, the information I have is worthless."

Martin shifted and took a step back from the corpse, which had leaked into the floor. "Was this Quarian's name Rinn?"

"Yes." Rilo's short answer only made Martin more curious. "Listen, Rilo, I may be able to help her. I need any information you have."

"This is difficult for me." Rilo's voice dropped to a deep and quiet tone. "How much do you know of her?"

"Not much," Martin remembered from his briefing with Athira. All they could give was a general description and general whereabouts—nothing about who she was.

Rilo nodded his head slowly, "Exiles, look out for each other. These people hunting her, and by extension, yourself, make it difficult to help."

"Exiles?" Martin questioned. "Yes, it doesn't happen often, but we were ousted from the Flotilla myself a long time ago."

Martin leaned against the wall closest to the desk and braced himself against it. "What happened?"

"That's all in the past now, I was young and stupid on my pilgrimage. They made sure I wouldn't repeat it." Rilo took a deep breath, his eyes dropping from Martin's. He felt the repressed pain in this voice.

"But Rinn, her crime was not fair but also not my story to tell, but I could help you." Martin raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner. Wonder if he had already forgotten that he said he wouldn't help.

"Exiles help exiles."

Martin pushed off the wall. "You don't know anything about me." He replied.

The old man leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him. "I don't need to hear your story. I read the betrayal on your face the moment you walked into that door the first time. You wear a mask, even if you aren't a Quarian. You just don't hide it well."

Martin's heart sunk deep into his chest, and he wondered how this old man could possibly know anything about him. He had never told him of what had happened before he woke up. He stiffened himself, trying to mask his uneasiness.

"Rinn is trying to get off the station. She came to me to fix her suit before she left." Rilo paused for a moment before taking a breath. "She's a target; she needs any help she can get." Martin nodded. "But you don't know where she went, do you?" Martin asked, standing up straight again.

"No." The room became quiet. The hum of the station and nearby machinery reverted through the walls, and Martin could feel it through his boots. He knew he wouldn't get any more information from him; he was sure of it. "Well, Rilo, it's good to see you still kicking, but I should go," Martin said as he turned back to the opening. "Try not to take the ferry."

Martin didn't know what any of that statement meant, but he held up a two-finger salute to acknowledge it. He thought that maybe, or rather hopefully, it meant good luck.