Chapter Twelve: Gehenna
"The only true wisdom, is in knowing you know nothing." -Socrates
Martin exited Afterlife, following the almost panicking Athria. They cleared the lines of people waiting to get in and headed toward the skycabs. Athria finally stopped walking and turned to Martin, finally catching up to her. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She angrily asked. "Do you not realize who that was? Walking in there acting the way you did, were you trying to get us killed?" Athria's displeasure surrounding the situation amused him. It reminded him of Velpia's freak out- the last time they had to speak to her.
"Power respects power. Something you should learn when dealing with people like that. As long as you don't overdo it." Martin said confidently. Athria narrowed her eyes at Martin, her anger still simmering. "Power respects power? Is that what you think you were doing in there? We could have been executed on the spot!"
Martin shrugged nonchalantly. "Aria's a pragmatist. She won't kill us unless there's something to gain from it. We gave her a reason to keep us alive." Athria clenched her fists, trying to keep her composure. "You were gambling with our lives. A slight misstep, a wrong word, and we would be dead. You might be used to this kind of life, but I'm not." Martin stopped and turned to face her fully, his expression serious now. "Yeah, it was risky, but it was the only way to deal with her. Showing fear or weakness would have made us targets. She wouldn't have believed us; we played her game."
Athria threw her hands into the air in exasperation and turned away from him, walking towards the depot. Martin followed at a distance. He couldn't understand her need to question everything he'd done. He had gotten results; they had the Quarian, had a way off the station, and stayed their execution. What more could she want?
Athria quickly jumped into a cab and waited for Martin as he climbed in, and the car took off back to pick up their things before heading off to the Docks. They sat silently for a little while, watching what makes for scenery on the station pass by. It was a while before Athria broke the silence. "I have to ask, what makes you so sure that you know what you are doing?" She asked while staring out the windshield.
"What do you mean?" Martin was confused; the question seemed genuine. She seemed to have lost her usual bitchy tone. "You don't seem to think; you just act, you don't hesitate, and yet it somehow works out for you."
Martin leaned back in his seat, getting slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. He had never really considered it before; he just reacted. "Instinct, mostly. In places like this, hesitation can get you killed. You have to make decisions fast and stick to them. Overthinking it too long tends to kill people."
Athria sighed, still staring out the windshield. "But how do you know your instincts are right? How do you know you're not leading us into a trap or making things worse?" Martin turned to Athria; the neon lights flashing across her face illuminated her contours. "I don't. Usually don't anyways. It's almost like letting fate decide what happens. Sometimes you have to; otherwise, things will just get worse." Athria looked at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and something else. "So, you just... trust fate? That's your plan?" Martin smirked slightly. "I trust my experience, my instincts, and a dash of luck. Anything beyond that I don't trust further than I can throw it." She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself. "You're infuriating, you know that?"
"Yep, been told that before."
'''''''''''''''''''''''''
An hour later, the car landed just outside the transfer area, and the two headed through the crowds. Athria started to see the ship that Martin was talking about. She stood in front of the brown boxy mess of a ship. "This is your Idea of a ship?" she complained to Martin, standing beside her. "I didn't say it was a good ship; I just said "A" ship." His sarcasm caught her nerves again, but Athria decided to bite her tongue. They walked up the loading ramp and closed it behind them before entering the ship. "Hello!" Martin shouted into the hall. "Huh, no one must be home," he said playfully.
Athria rolled her eyes. "Great. That's just what we need—a ghost ship." The two began walking to the bridge, watching around them. Martin rounded the corner of the bridge and walked in; he immediately noticed a head, or rather the dark hair of the pilot he had saved almost a week ago. He stepped toward her with Athria in tow.
"Don't move a muscle," a deep voice ordered from behind. Athria realized who these idiots were. Martin felt Athria back herself into him with her hand in the air. "Try anything, and you'll end up as a smear." The Batarian continued as Martin slowly raised his hands, turned around, and sidestepped Athria.
"What do you want?" Athria asked, annoyed at the situation. "You know what we want? Where's the Quarian?" the Batarian answered. Martin noticed a shimmer in the doorway. It was as if someone was hiding in plain sight. "Turn around; she's right behind you," Martin warned. "Good Try, Hum—" The apparition's arm glowed orange, reaching towards the Batarian and starting to shock him, screaming in pain. The Salarian quickly turned to see what was happening, and the moment she turned, Athria sent her flying with a biotic attack. Both hit the floor with a thud. The Quarian decloaked, and she and Athria quickly began tying up the two as Martin turned his attention to the pilot.
Dez was tied and gagged to the chair, which Martin was quick to release her. "Damnit, Cowboy, you're just coming back to haunt me?"
"Yippee kay yay, and all that," Martin replied, undoing her last restraint. "Listen, we need to leave the station, or Aria will blow us up. Is anyone else on board?"
Dez looked up at Martin in horror as the others were dragging the two would-be kidnappers out of the bridge. "No, they managed to book passage on another ship heading back to Citadel space." She responded in a bit of a panic.
"Good. We need to leave now, so if you can start the ship, we can be on our merry way."
Dez nodded quickly, her hands moving over the ship's console with practiced ease. "Starting up the engines now. It'll take a few minutes to power everything up." Martin turned to Athria and The Quarian, who had finished securing the other two in one of the storage compartments. "How are they?" he asked. Athria brushed her hands off, looking satisfied. "They won't be causing us any more trouble for a while. What's the plan?"
"Dez is getting the ship ready to go," Martin said, glancing at the pilot, who was focused on the controls. "Hopefully, this bucket holds together long enough," Athria commented.
The Quarian approached them, her voice muffled slightly by her helmet, and added, "I'll monitor communications to ensure we're not being tracked. We don't need any surprises once we're in the air." Martin nodded in relief. Athria also took a deep breath, thankful to leave this hellhole.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
The ship detached from the station, turned away and began heading for the relay. Dez noted that all systems seemed good, and the ship could reach wherever they planned. Martin was sitting in the captain's chair, slightly elevated from the rest of the deck, watching the ship move away from the station. Although it was a relief for him to leave that place, they didn't have a plan going forward. He waited a little while, hoping someone else would begin the conversation, zoning out into the nothingness that lay before them.
Athria's cough broke his mind's silence. When he came to, he looked around him, noticing everyone looking at him, who had turned around in their seats. He looked over at Athria as she just rolled her eyes. "So, where are we going?" Dez asked from her chair. Martin turned to the Quarian. " Ah, Miss..." Martin trailed. "Rinn'Tolan." she responded.
"Strange, no ship name? I haven't met a Quarian that didn't have a ship name." Athria commented. The Quarian's head dropped, shame perhaps. Martin thought about the conversation he had with Rilo on Omega. "She's an Exile." His tone was quiet trying to hold back any judgement.
"Yes," she responded, raising her head back up. Martin leaned back in his chair, hoping to move the conversation along. "I think it's time you held up to your end of the bargain," he told Rinn.
She reluctantly stood up, holding out her arm, and as it began to glow orange, a hologram in the shape of a planet appeared in her outstretched hand. "What planet is that?" Martin asked, looking over at Athria, who had her omni-tool out and was examining the information.
"It's not a matter of what; it's where," she said with an inflection of disbelief. Martin side-eyed Dez, who seemed as lost as he was. "It's in the Far Rim," Rinn answered.
Dez shook her head, waving her arms and crossing them in front of her.
"That's deep in Geth territory," Dez explained. "There's no way in hell I'm attempting to fly this brick through them." Athria lowered her arm and shut off her omni-tool. "All that crap we just went through for nothing."
Martin swiveled the chair directly at Athria; he needed a proper explanation as his knowledge of galactic affairs was still limited. "So, we are just giving up? That's it?"
Dez leaned forward in her chair with excitable energy. "That is on the galaxy's edge; no organic has been that deep in Geth territory since the Quarians were kicked off their homeworld three hundred years ago."
"And I've seen what they did to the Citadel; if they were strong enough to attack the heart of Council space, going after this artifact would be a mistake," Arthia added.
Martin turned his attention to Rinn, still standing to his right but now with her arms to her side. "Do we even know what this thing is?" he asked, not wanting to completely rule out any possibilities.
"I think it's a Geth device of some sort. It had similar readings to the Geth Dreadnought."
Athria's eyes widened as she accidentally let out a small, quiet gasp of air, which caught Martin's attention for a second before returning to Rinn. "Why are you after it?" Martin asked, curious to hear her motivation.
Her inflection stayed the same. She seemed sad and reserved. Either this was a ploy to make her look less threatening, or she didn't actually want to tell them anything. "I wanted to collect it to give to my people. If it was worth all this trouble, I figured I might be able to go home again."
"This is fascinating, but the situation stands; we can't go after it." Athria protested. "Yeah, you're probably right," Martin affirmed.
"So where are we heading?" Dez asked. "We aren't far from the relay."
Martin considered his options. There weren't many ports that would take a stolen Batarian ship.
"We should head back to Illium; at least there, we can ditch the ship and figure out what to do," he blurted out.
Dez looked over to Athria, and she nodded to her in agreement. "Alright. Everyone can get comfortable."
Martin stood up from his chair and grabbed his bag off the floor by the door. "Where are you going?" Athria asked. "I need a shower. I've been stuck in this suit for four days. If I don't get out of it soon, I'll fuse to it."
As Martin walked down the corridor, his mind drifted, wondering if Velpia was alright. He didn't want to dwell on it for too long, but she was one of the few anchors he had in this time. Being thrown eighty years into the future, with the drastic changes from his time by comparison, made him still wonder if it was all a dream. Sure, getting shot still hurt, and his body sure felt like shit most days, but it never completely felt like it seemed to be before.
Martin opened the locker room door and stripped himself before stepping into the chest-high stall and turning on the recycled water. Thankfully, it was at least marginally warm. He let the water run over his head from the faucet above, placing both arms on top of the stall walls. Other than the water splattering on the floor, the room was quiet.
Martin closed his eyes trying to center himself. Running over everything that happened, and what they should do when he heard the door open. He opened his eyes and turned to see Athria walking towards the stall. She stopped and leaned against the wall.
"Can I help you, or are you here for the showing? Martin joked but kept his voice mono-toned.
"Not much of a show if there's walls in the way, and judging by those scars, you'd probably be the nine-a.m. on a Sunday special." Martin turned off the water, pushing it off his face. He turned around completely to face her, with only the stall door and walls preventing his decency from showing.
"You came in here to watch me shower or what?" he questioned with a serious tone.
"No, we needed to talk in private, away from the Quarian; we need to pass the information off to the Initiative as soon as we can. If this thing is as it sounds, we can be in a world of trouble." Athria's face and body movements made him believe she was worried. She had to know more than what she was letting on.
"Wasn't the plan to return the information? I mean, we're about to complete our mission. Case closed, not our problem." Martin grabbed a towel hanging from the hook on the stall door and started to dry his face and hair.
Athria folded her arms, watching Martin dry himself.
"I was originally worried you'd want to find a way to go after it. It's a fool's errand. It's the reason no one's ever found it. Once someone finds out the location, they realize it's impossible until they are tracked down and killed for their information."
Martin began drying the rest of himself before wrapping the towel around his waist.
"And then the cycle repeats. It wasn't the artifact that was changing hands, just the information."
Athria nodded, her expression grave. "Exactly. This information is a death sentence, Martin. We're dealing with something far beyond what we signed up for. The Initiative needs to know the full extent of what we're dealing with."
Martin leaned against the stall door, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "So, what's the play? We hand over the data and then what? We just walk away?"
"If we are lucky. But someone probably will eventually come after us." Arthia commented coldly.
Martin's mind was conflicted, and his body felt the same as it did back home after he was labeled a traitor. A target out on his back and an objective out of reach, impossible.
"I guess we need to deal with our friends in the storage room at some point and get some new names and identities." He half-joked.
"How about you start with some pants first, barbarian? Then we can discuss exactly what to do later." She reciprocated as she pushed herself off the wall and left the room.