Chapter Ten: Ullr's hringr

"Ask you must and answer well, to be called clever. One may know your secret, never a second. If three, a thousand will know." ― Hávamál

Velpia was still on edge after yesterday's events in the Carrd District. Meeting Martin at the old bar was probably a mistake, but giving him a chance to explain what had happened may put her at ease, or so she thought. She sat in the back corner of the decently lit room in a booth facing the front so she could see if anyone else was coming in. After a few minutes, Martin walked in and nodded to her while walking toward her. He sat down and slid into the booth across from her, sitting almost sideways with his back against the wall. He placed his leg up on the seat.

"So, about yesterday." Martin sighed as he adjusted himself. "I was waiting all day for this explanation." She butted in. Martin took a deep breath; his eyes moved around as if trying to find the right words to say. "My, uh, partner, possibly former partner, decided to take things into her own hands." he stumbled.

"You knew who was trying to kill me?" Velpia wasn't all too surprised by the revelation. It made sense why he was trying to hold her like he did. "Yeah, the jackass found some bit of information and tried acting on it without consulting me. I got there as fast as I could."

Velpia's thoughts started to swirl. "Wait, how did you know I was going to be there?" Martin smiled back at her finally turning his face to meet hers. "I didn't, I came with the intention of saving her ass, but when I saw you, Well, it became a problem."

"Her?" Velpia questioned as her pulse raised and a small pressure in her chest began to form. "Some Asari asshole; she's got a huge stick up her ass and no personality. The last two days of working with her have been nothing more than a nightmare." Martin raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed his brow. "She's got that Asari, holier-than-thou type shit going on about her."

The feeling in her chest calmed as her mind switched from jealousy to confusion. She still didn't understand why he was on Omega. "Why are you here? I mean, this is the last place I'd expect you to show up?" she boldly asked. Without hesitation, not a single thought to the matter, he blurted everything. "I'm supposed to track down some Quarian with information about this object my employers are looking for. Haven't really found anything yet, though."

Velpia's heart nearly jumped out of her chest; they were working on the same mission. This was a problem. If he had found anything and the Colonel found out, she'd have to bring him in, and that's the last thing she wanted to attempt. Martin turned his body to face her. She dropped her eyes, noticing a fresh cut across his right cheek. Her mind screamed,change the subject. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh, that, yeah, after you left, some assholes showed up and picked a fight with me. They didn't like the answers I gave them." Martin coyly said while gently touching the wound. "I swear you collect scars like some humans collect tattoos." she jokingly responded.

Velpia moved her eye up to the dark scar on his forehead, remembering the time that they were forced down and crashed a sky car. Her memory quickly flashed to their own fight own Omega in the bathroom, remembering just how scarred he really was. She blinked and sat up straight, trying to shove the memory away.

"So, about this Asari.-" Martin chuckled and smiled, "Don't tell me you're jealous. I mean, she is probably going to try to kill me."

"What?" She asked, confused. "Oh, yeah, she didn't like the fact that you got away. After kicking the other two's asses, I went back to find her, she dipped. Haven't spoken to her all day. So it should be fun once I do." His nonchalant attitude about the situation unnerved her. "Do you need help? I mean, I have my own mission, but I'm sure I can track her down."

Martin went quiet; she couldn't read what emotion he was working through. "Nah, I think I can handle some wanna-be bitch; I've handled you after all."

"You really still are an asshole." Velpia jokingly responded as Martin smiled. "Yeah, well, what can I do?"
"Velpia leaned back in the booth, her eyes narrowing as she studied Martin. 'So, what's your plan now? Are you winging it still?"'

Martin shrugged, calm as ever. 'Something like that. Or at least it seems like it; what I want to know is why the information she gathered leads back to your little band of misfits."
"Velpia's heart skipped a beat. She kept her expression neutral though her mind raced for a plausible response. 'What do you mean?' she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, Velpia," Martin said, leaning forward. "The data Athria found pointed to your crew. Why are you really here?"

Velpia forced a laugh. "Coincidence, maybe. You know how chaotic Omega is."

Martin's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe in coincidences. You're hiding something."

Her pulse quickened, and she knew she couldn't completely fool him. "Look," Velpia said, trying to sound convincing. "I have my own mission. It has nothing to do with your Asari or your Quarian. We just happened to cross paths."

Martin didn't seem entirely convinced but leaned back, seemingly letting it go. "Alright, if you say so." They became awkwardly quiet for too long for her comfort. This conversation was going to get out of hand if it kept up. The top of Martin's hand began to flash, and she saw him look down at it as if it were an annoyance. "It's probably her." he sighed. Velpia let out a quiet and soft breath of relief.

"Well, let me know if you end up dead." Velpia joked; Martin chuckled. "No promises." He stood up, giving her a mock salute. "Stay out of trouble, Vee."

"You too," she replied, watching him leave the bar. She sighed, her thoughts a tangled mess of fear. She couldn't tell Martin why she was on Omega—not yet. There was too much at stake.

""""""""""""""

Bekar and Esel had regrouped from their unexpected thrashing by the human in the alley. Neither of them had said so much as a word to each other over the past night as they damn near crawled their way back to their sky car, where they slept. They administered some medi-gel before trying to sleep off the pain that they were both in. Esel awoke to Bekar piloting the skycar, clearly still in pain. "Feel any better?" Esel groggily asked. "Barley." His quick, sharp reply wasn't what she wanted to hear. That human hurt more than just his body. "That Human wasn't normal." He continued. Esel stayed quiet, curious as to what he meant. "Too fast, too strong."
Esel hissed, wiping the blood from her split lip. "He's not just some merc. He's a trained soldier, and he's got the instincts to match." Bekar shook his head, "No, that's not what I mean. We were an annoyance to him; he's a freak. That was almost as bad as fighting a krogan." Esel's thoughts moved around her head. She knew what he meant. Not many, if any, humans she encountered could keep up with her movements, and his reaction times were just too impressive to be luck.

"We need more information on this guy and that Asari. If they are after the same Quarian, they could jeopardize everything." Esel commented trying to speak through the pain of her inflamed lip.

Bekar pulled out his omni-tool, quickly accessing their network. "I'll see what I can dig up. Meanwhile, we need to stay low and avoid direct confrontations. Next time, we won't be caught off guard."

""""""""""""""""""""

Martin called for a sky cab and finally answered the call. "About damn time." Athria's ever so bitchy voice cracked in his ear. "Where are you?" Martin smiled while shaking his head in a light frustration. "Leaving a Bar, why?"

"I need you. Something's happened; I think I've tracked down where this Quarian is." Martin's eyes perked up. "Oh, so we aren't going to talk about what happened?" Athria went silent before hearing her sigh. "We don't really have the time to. If you agree not to kill me, we can just finish this job, and we can both go about our separate ways." Martin's frustration over their fight and her abandonment still was a fresh scar on his mind; his confidence and trust in her were almost non-existent, but Athria sounded panicked. He could hear the urgency in her voice, starkly contrasting her usual detached demeanor. "Fine, where are you?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "I'm at the lower docks, near the old freight terminal. Hurry."

Martin hung up and directed the sky cab to the docks. His mind raced with thoughts of their last encounter. This could be a setup to remove him from the mission. All she needed to do was to fire him. She didn't come off as the type to actually try to kill him, or he thought. Athria was a wildcard, but he couldn't afford to ignore her lead. If she was right about the Quarian, it could mean the end of this headache.

The sky cab descended into the lower docks, the area dimly lit and teeming with the usual suspects of Omega's underbelly. Martin spotted Athria waiting near a rundown terminal, her face lit by the faint glow of her omni-tool, almost ducked behind some crates.

He stepped out of the cab and approached her, his guard up. "Alright, I'm here. What's going on?"

Athria looked up, her eyes meeting his with a mix of relief and tension. "Your Turians have her," she said. Martin felt the "I told you so" tone to her voice. "Ah, shit." He replied.

"We should scope out their staging area to see if we can find any gaps in their security," Athria said. Martin nodded with approval, which seemed to surprise her. "Are you finally going to listen to me for once?"

Martin pushed her comment away, looking out across the facility and not giving her a response. "You alright, barbarian?"

"No, these aren't Mercs; they're Turian military. If we engage them, we are going to be in an ass full of trouble." Athria's face let off a look of contained surprise. "How do you-" she stopped, realizing the connection between his information and the Turian from earlier. "Shit."

"Yeah, so recon it is."

They both moved through the docks, avoiding the Turians, and found an old, unused office overlooking most of the dock. They kept the lights off and had to lay down on their stomachs to look out the floor-high windows.

Martin had his rifle set up on the floor, not to shoot but to watch things through his scope, while Athria was close next to him, looking out with some kind of binoculars.

"Yeah, you're right, too organized to be Mercs." She admitted. "Yeah, well, I'm rarely wrong about these kinds of things."

"You know, for once, I want you to take a situation seriously," Athria complained.

"You really want to do this now?" Martin turned his head away from the scope and toward her. "I am being serious, you just have a stick up your ass."

"Oh, this is rich coming from a brain-damaged primate." Martin turned his attention back to his scope. "Can we save this for the couples counseling session later? I'm sure the therapist would like to hear these comments." He heard a slight huff from Athria, and he thought that maybe his joke finally caught her for once.

Martin turned his complete attention to the docks, panning over the patrols. The ship the Turians were guarding looked like it had seen better days. It was rusty, and its paint seemed chipped and falling off.

"Kraxus class Frigate, older model. Most are either mothballed or serving in reserve." Athria commented.

"Looks like this was pulled out of storage," Martin added, moving his attention back to the patrols.

"I don't know why they wouldn't send something better here." Martin rolled his eyes a bit; the comment seemed to speak to her naivety. "You don't send your best ships to Omega; you'd draw attention to yourself. And I'm sure Aria wouldn't appreciate any Citadel presence on her station."

"This is true." She agreed at first and then paused more a moment before dropping her sight from her binoculars. "Do you think we should tell her the Turians are here?"

Martin quickly turned his head to her. Talking to Aria was the last thing he wanted to do. "Ah, you can; I'm not going anywhere near her." Athria chuckled. "Did I find the one person the Barbarian is afraid of?"

"Noooo." He took a deep breath, remembering his last encounter with her. "I've already had a dealing with her after I—well, not me but—" he paused to try to make it sound less of the bombing it actually was. "-damaged some of her equipment. I don't think she'd appreciate seeing me again."

"Goddess, you are a damn menace." Martin chuckled softly. "Yeah, well, menace or not, I don't fancy another chat with Aria. Let's just focus on what we have to do." Athria nodded, her expression serious as she resumed her surveillance. "Alright, let's figure out their patrol patterns and see if we can find a way in."

Martin watched through his scope, noting the movements of the Turian soldiers. "Looks like they've got a rotating shift. Every sixteen minutes, two guards switch positions near the main entrance. There's a blind spot behind those crates on the left."
Athria adjusted her binoculars. "I see it. We can slip past them and get into the loading bay if we time it right. Do you think you can handle that, barbarian?" Martin smirked. "As long as you don't trip and alert them with your delicate Asari grace." Athria shot him a glare but didn't take the bait. "Just don't get yourself killed, alright? I still need you to finish this job."

"Touching concern, really." Martin's tone was dripping with sarcasm.

They quietly made their way down from the office, sticking to the shadows. The hum of the dock's machinery and the distant chatter of the Turians provided a cover for their movements. Martin led the way, keeping himself low, genuinely trying to avoid a fight.
As they reached the blind spot behind the crates, Martin held up a hand, signaling for Athria to stop. He peeked around the corner, ensuring the coast was clear. "Alright, on my mark," he whispered. "Three, two, one—now."

They slipped past the guards and into the loading bay at the rear of the ship, finding themselves surrounded by crates and containers. The air was thick with the scent of oil and metal. Athria pointed to a door on the far side. "That should lead us to the holding area.." Martin nodded, and they moved cautiously. As they approached the door, it slid open with a hiss, revealing a narrow corridor lit by dim, flickering lights.

Martin led the way, his senses on high alert; his heart was thumping from excitement. "We're close. Keep your eyes up," he said.

They rounded a corner and found themselves facing a small room with a single Turian guard standing by a console. Before the guard could react, Martin lunged forward, incapacitating him with a swift, silent takedown. The Turian was laid out on the floor as Martin cracked his knuckles. "Interesting use of your fists, Barbarian. You actually didn't kill him." Athria's voice almost sounded as if she was giving him approval. "Awe, I knew you liked me boss." Her face immediately dropped back to disappointment. "Don't push your luck." She said, pushing him out of the way as she entered the room.

Martin grabbed the arms of the sleeping Turian, pulled him into the room, and shut the door. Athria went to work on the console on one side of the wall as Martin broke open a locker next to him and found some restraints for his Turian friend. After dealing with him, He marched past Athria, looking into the cells on the brig. Most were empty until he came to the third to last cell.

The Quarian was curled up in the dark corner, holding her folded legs in her arms. Martin could tell she was scared. "You alright, kid?" he softly asked. Her head bounced up, and it took her a few seconds before she quickly stood. "Yes, I think so. Are you the one Rilo sent to help me?"

Martin stammered a bit, confused, but then remembered what Rilo had said: "Exiles help exiles." He didn't want to lie to her, but also needed her to trust him.

"I'm not going to completely lie to you, kid. We were told you had the information we needed; if you promise to help us out, I'll help you." The Quarian backed away slightly as her head dropped. "Alright," she responded apprehensively. The barrier between them dropped as Athria approached them. "We need to go now, somethings happening outside."

Martin grabbed one of his pistols from his hip and headed for the door with the others in tow. Just as he was about to open he stopped, as a mass of footsteps sounded off on the other side, passing them by. "Fuck."