Chapter Eight: Até
"Failure is the abyss where hope dies, and only shadows remain to mock our efforts."
Run!
The alleyway stretched out before Esel like a winding snake, dark and full of twists. She forced herself to focus, pushing through the lingering disorientation from the explosion. She moved cautiously; her rifle raised, eyes scanning for any sign of movement. Every shadow seemed to dance with potential threats, but she pressed on, determined not to lose the Quarian. The sound of distant sirens and the chaotic hum of Omega's nightlife filtered through the narrow space, adding to the tension.
Bekar's voice crackled in her earpiece again, more composed this time. "Esel, I've got a visual. West side of the market district. She's heading towards the old maintenance tunnels."
Esel's pace quickened. The maintenance tunnels were a maze, perfect for losing a tail. If the Quarian got there, their chances of finding her again were slim. She pushed herself harder, her legs protesting with every step. "Stay on her, Bekar. We can't let her get away." The urgency in her voice mirrored the pounding of her heart. She reached the end of the alley and burst into the bustling market district, her eyes darting between the myriad of stalls and vendors. Somewhere in this sea of beings, their target was trying to disappear.
She paused only for a moment to collect her breath and reorient herself, calming her mind before she threaded her way through the crowd, heading west, bumping and dodging the residents as she passed by.
"I'm heading in after her!" Bekar's voice grumbled like gravel over the comm. Esel was too busy to respond, trying to force her way through. She continued until the crowd finally thinned, and she could sprint again. Her labored breaths sucked down as much oxygen as they could to fuel her.
Sprinting across the narrowing walkways, she stopped again to let her body rest and catch up. "Bekar, location?" Silence. "Bekar?" Again, Esel was met with silence. She looked around with haste, trying to see anything that might grab her attention. "There!" she thought.
Esel sprinted further into the district to the corner of a building to a large open grate and, without thinking, dropped down.
The maintenance tunnel was a dim, claustrophobic space lined with exposed pipes and wires. The hum of the station's machinery reverberated more than normal through the small space. Graffiti lined the walls, marking the territory for various gangs or other activities. "Bekar?" Esel spoke questioningly over the comm.
The comm cracked back, a shattered mess of a voice barely distinguishable from the noise. She looked down both ways, the path behind her completely dark as if it wasn't meant to exist. "Follow the lights," she thought.
She followed the motion of automated lights, quickening her pace. She could faintly hear the echoes of boots clumping in the distance. Esel passed many side passages that shot off to each side. Finding anyone in this maze would be excruciatingly hard. She persisted, pushing herself harder as the voices and noises grew.
Esel rounded the sharp corners, her breaths sharp and controlled. The tunnels seemed to stretch endlessly, the old light flickering as she passed, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Getting closer to the noise, she could hear the muffled sound of voices in hurried conversation.
"Bekar, come in," she tried again, hoping for a clearer signal. The comm hissed and crackled, but there was no coherent response. She clenched her teeth, frustration mixing with determination. She couldn't afford to lose Bekar or the Quarian.
Esel rounded the last corner, a familiar shadow caster in front of her, followed by a muffled curse. That had to be Bekar.
She raised her rifle again and quietly rounded the corner. The vibration alerted him, and he crouched down behind a large pipe. "Get over here!" he whispered with authority. She took to his side, getting low behind cover. His face was set in a grim expression, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Esel," he whispered, barely glancing her way. "She's just ahead. I caught a glimpse of her disappearing around that corner."
Esel nodded, her grip tightening on her weapon. "She's hit a dead end; there's nowhere for her to go now," he grumbled quietly.
They both moved with synchronized steps until they rounded the corner. Gone. Nothing. Esel stared at the empty pathway and wall eight feet in front of them. "You've got to be kidding." Bekar exhaustively commented.
After backtracking for a few hours, checking just in case the Quarian took a different path, the two returned to the busy district and headed to a skycar. With all that energy wasted, she could tell Bekar wasn't enthusiastic about the situation, keeping quiet for most of the ride. In solidarity, she remained silent as well.
They traveled through the chaotic "skies" of Omega, the lights surrounding them casting a ghostly image on the windshield. Esel was waiting for something, anything, to happen to break the uneasy feeling in the air. "We need a better approach; chasing her isn't working," Esel said, trying to break the air as delicately as possible.
Bekar glanced back at her; his expression was a mix of frustration and resignation. "I know, but no one seems to know who the hell this Quarian is. She's a damned ghost." Esel sighed while removing her helmet before returning to watching the skyline in front of her. "Someone has to know something. We can't keep jumping at her blindly unless we know more about her.
"
Bekar nodded slowly; they both knew there wasn't much they could do now. Esel could see he resigned his frustration and started to relax. "She's resourceful, scared, and on the run. She has to be reaching out to someone." Esel reassured Bekar.
Bekar looked back at her with a hint of a smile. "You sound like you've been in her shoes?" Esel kept looking out of the window in front of her, seeing his reflection. "A bit, yes." She timidly responded. "You never really discussed much of what you did before we started working together." Bekar's thought trailed off as he brought his attention back to the car's controls.
"Yes, for a reason." She snipped back. Her mind flashed for a moment before she blinked the memory away. "There are a few other Quarians on the station. We should start with talking to them."
""""""""""
Athria was exhausted. It had been almost sixteen hours since she'd slept. She was too busy delving into the station's systems for rest. Not to mention, she hadn't heard anything from the barbarian yet. She hammered away on her workstation, with only the light from the display illuminating her immediate surroundings and a coffee next to her.
This was the first time she had been in the field for the Initiative. Until now, she had been recruiting and doing small tasks for them since she joined a year ago. For all her experience, she really didn't think handling this human would be completely out of her wheelhouse, and she still didn't think so. She was still uneasy about what she had read about him. Nothing made any logical sense.
The door to the apartment opened, and a shadow figure emerged. "So, find anything yet?" the barbarian yammered. Athria took a breath, sat up in her chair, and let out an exhausted sigh.
"No, I'm still working on it," she responded, clearly exasperated. "Rough night." Martin closed the door behind her and sat on the barstool in the kitchen area next to her desk, only about seven feet away.
"Rough?" she defiantly huffed. Thanks to your handy work, I've had to reroute access six times in an hour."
Martin put up his hands defensively, "I did what I had to; I didn't see you in that hellhole." Athria closed her eyes and frustratedly covered her face with her hands, rubbing her face. Her frustration with the system and the barbarian made her regret ever accepting this mission. She paused and took a deep breath. "Which of the two brain cells listens to things that you say? Your job was to gain access to a computer, not to blow up an office building!" She barked as she mustered the frustration to face him.
Martin shrugged, leaning back into the bar behind him. "Well, first off, I blew up a microwave, not quite the building, and second, there wasn't any other way to evacuate enough personnel to get where I needed to be for long enough. Explosions tend to clear places out in a hurry." His non-apologetic demeanor felt like sandpaper being raked across her soul.
"I don't think you understand the point I'm making. We have to think smarter. Your recklessness is making this harder than it has to be. I've been fighting new security measures for the last five hours because you couldn't do your job correctly!"
Martin leaned forward, his demeanor almost unchanged from his uncaring facade. "Oh, so now you're blaming me for not being able to do your job?"
Athria stood up, her exhaustion giving way to anger. "I am doing my job, Martin. The problem is, you're making it impossible for me to do it effectively."
Martin leaned further forward, his tone growing more confrontational. "Maybe if you spent less time whining and more time finding solutions-"
Athria bent forward slightly, raising her finger towards him. Her other hand, she focused her anger, illuminating the room blue.
"You don't get it, do you? This isn't some back alley brawl. We need precision and strategy, not your Krogan-in-a-box tactics."
Martin scoffed as he stood up but took notice of her biotics. "Wake up, Athria. This is Omega. It doesn't play by your rules. If you want something done, you need to play dirty and rough."
Athria's eyes burned with intensity as she straightened up, the biotic energy surrounding her hand shimmering like a blue flame. "Playing dirty and rough might work with what you were doing before, but this mission requires finesse, Barbarian. We can't just bulldoze our way through every obstacle. If any of these other Mercs or treasure hunters catch wind of our involvement, we will have more trouble than we can handle!" Arthia noticed his demeanor change. His once defensive posture had become more inquisitive.
"What aren't you telling me? Martin asked. Arthia dispersed her biotics, realizing she hadn't given him the full briefing. Her anger and frustration subsided. Maybe he wouldn't be such a dick if he knew.
"Alright." She sighed and opened her fisted hand. "The Quarian has information stolen from one of our agents about the location of an artifact. Don't ask what it is because no one really knows. There's been a mess of Mercs, and every desperate fool in the galaxy has been after this thing ever since word started getting around about it in the 70s."
Arthia stopped and took another deep breath while gauging his reaction. He seemed unmoved but listening. No smartass comments. "Everyone that goes after it either ends up dead or missing. Most draw too much attention to themselves and then end up tortured or killed for their information, regardless of whether they had any, by others trying to find it. I don't want to end up like them."
Martin nodded silently. "Alright," he responded while walking across the dark room to the couch. Let me know when you need me to break something; otherwise, I need a nap." Arthia stood at her desk, dumbfounded, trying to process his response. "Is he broken?" she thought as she watched him flop down on the couch. That's it?" she questioned somewhat angrily.
"See what happens when you don't dick me around?" Martin replied, obscured from her view.