Naleena received a message from VERA. "The Medusa has docked, Boss."
"Thank you VERA."
She paused before returning to her hotel and tapped a message into her omni-tool over a secure channel.
To: The First Mate on the Medusa
From: An old blue friend
I heard you finally arrived. Let me buy you a drink. Bring you quiet dive sniffing nose with you, and meet me outside of C-sec. I'll be wearing black leather.
N.
Previously...( http://forum.bioware...res/?p=18687804 )
...Somewhere in the Terminus Systems
To: Gille Demos
From: Doctor Ysmene Foteni
Yes, I suppose we could meet, as I am due a vacation coming soon. I admit, I wonder what it is that compels you so suddenly to seek me out, though I also am very flattered that you would reach out to me after so long. Perhaps we can meet at my vacation home on Nevos. It is a beautiful place, quiet and remote. The calm will do us both good. I sincerely hope that all is well with you and look forward to spending time with one of my favorite nieces (I can't play favorites you know!). See if the attached calendar dates work for you.
All is one.
Iyana read the message over Gille Demos' shoulder. "Excellent. It will take a bit of effort to remain clandestine but this should post no problem. I must say, I admire your aunt for picking such a wonderful location. Go ahead and respond with the first date available as your preference."
Gille looked up fearfully at Iyana from the terminal she sat at, and then typed a return message to her aunt immediately.
...
To: The First Mate on the Medusa
From: An old blue friend
I heard you finally arrived. Let me buy you a drink. Bring you quiet dive sniffing nose with you, and meet me outside of C-sec. I'll be wearing black leather.
N.
Morgan had just gotten to the hanger to talk with Dogger and Jobe (thankfully, the salarian scientist had been 'shipped out') when his omni-tool pinged the message from Naleena. He couldn't help but smile when he opened it, and quickly replied back:
To: N.
From: The dive sniffer
Gladly. There's a place...sorry it has clean glasses...in the lower Tayseri Ward, called Kleo and Parduk's. Basically it is a bar and a few booths...nothing more. The kind of place a few people stop by after work and drink quietly. Tucked away on a low end retail passageway, actually kind of charming. Will meet you at C-Sec then hit a transport over. I need to get an errand done, anyway, so you are the perfect excuse to get off the ship.
Morgan said to Dogger, "Message me if you need me. I'm leaving Dahlia in charge while I'm out. Can't turn down this invitation." Morgan let Dogger know where he'd be, if an emergency arose, then headed off the Medusa to go meet with Naleena.
To: The dive sniffer
From: N.
I'll be at the C-sec check in. Do not be alarmed by what happens.
Morgan couldn't help but feel he picked the right set of clothes as he felt comfortable wandering the Citadel. He'd left his weapons behind, mostly to avoid having questions asked when he went to the Presidium or C-Sec headquarters. It wasn't his favorite thing to do, but this was the Citadel, and he'd done it before. It led him to keep a sharper eye out.
Ten minutes after leaving the dock area, Morgan was disembarking from an X3M transit skycar outside the entrance to C-Sec. He walked through the entrance and waited while a turian officer went through the typical identification scans that every person entering was subject to.
...Which Morgan had forgotten about. He really never had an intention of voluntarily visiting C-Sec before.
"Sir...just one moment," the officer stated as he re-ran the scan.
Morgan acted naturally, even while his mind wondered what was going on.
"Sir...," the turian began, then looked directly at him. "Sorry for the inconvenience but there's a problem with your ident scan."
"What kind of problem?"
"According to our records, the 'You're dead' kind of problem."
Naleena walked up to the C-sec officer and displayed her badge. "And he likes it that way. You never saw him. Let him through."
Morgan walked through the checkpoint.
"It's been a while, friend," Naleena said, "Let's go somewhere we can talk."
The two walked toward a skycar.
Anika inclined her head as Molly ran out the things she'd done on Omega. "Ah.... Yes.... That....". Anika closed her eye's and took a deep breath. "It's.... I was brought up..... differently. Trained to think of other species as the enemy. It's not like that really, not all the time. It's just that.... Jess got me out of that life but that life was what I was brought up with. Most children learn galactic standard at school.... I was learning basic code breaking in the morning, PT in the afternoon and weapon acclimation in the evenings. I'm used to routine. Jess helped me get out and helped me get more.... used to life. But backat Omega I was out of my element. Had no weapon worth a damn. No armour...... I guess I just.... over reacted".
Anika sighed as she settled back. Then chuckled. "That Krogan though.... First time I ever fought one. I doubt he was military. A shame. It would be good to get to know if the sims I fought against were accurate....".
When the call for the Medusa came in Anika's eye's lit up. "She's here"? Anika gushed. "If she's here that means...... Mr Bojangles! And my spare armour"!
Yeli looked up from behind her desk where she was filing her nails. "Oh, your leaving? That's a shame. Shall I tell Mr Kolme you won't need his repair job"?
Anika stood as Yeli continued inspecting her nails. "No, please telll him to go ahead. I need it working in case my spare get's damaged".
"You sure? He's very busy".
Anika stopped to regard her. "I need the armour". She repeated. "If it's about the cost....".
"No no.... let's seeee". Yeli brought up her terminal and tapped her finger's against the table where the holographic keyboard appeared. ".... I think we can get around to it........ Yes. We can have it ready for you by next month"!
"Next month"? Anika sounded aghast when her Omni tool pinged. A message from Jess telling her the Medusa was in port. "Let me speak to Kolme".
"I'm sorry he's busy busy busy.... You know how it is. He runs the place single handed after all".
"Aren't you his assistant? Shouldn't you be..... Assisting"?
"Oh I will.... As soon as the customer's leave".
"You mean us".
Yeli gave an innocent stare up at the towering woman. "Oh.... That's right! That is you.... Oh well. Well I suppose the sooner you leave the sooner I can get back to work in the workshop".
Anika glared at her as her sass registered..... then she turned. "Molly.... If you want to meet the Captain I'll introduce you. Rachel too if she likes". Then, she half turned back to Yeli. "I'll be back".
Aboard the Medusa, Emi opened her eye's and groaned as she tried to sit up. Only to find something restraining her. She looked down and saw bands around her wrists and ankles..... And her biceps.... And her thighs and her upper chest and her waist while her hands and feet were encased in enclosure fields.
Totally..... Immobilised. No biotics.
Emi's head fell back on what she now realized was a medical bed in some kind of ship board medical compartment. "Oooooh..... Fiddlesticks"!
"I would like that very much," Detective Hagen said on the way out of Kolme's. "How does that woman even keep her job...," she wondered aloud, looking back over her shoulder at Yeli. "Anyway, Rachel is it? I don't have you on my list, presuming you just recently came on."
Molly was wondering about Anika's background and didn't recall anything that clued her into what it was about, but whatever Anika had in her past obviously had some elements that she did not like. "Don't worry about it, Anika. I had front row seats to you kicking ass. Kind of impressive, I'm going to admit.
"What I'm along for, Anika, is to try to find out about this problem that you and most of the Spectre's team have run into. It goes back to my investigation into the Shadow Network. Long story short is my investigation lead me to Morgan Severn, which took me here, and Naleena was the one who got me connected to the real problem: Iyana. At least that's the name she goes by, right? So, Naleena put me on...in circumstances not entirely unappreciated...to proceed with my work, and right now it's finding this woman that Severn once answered to.
A glance up at the towering Anika, caused a moment of self-assessment, which Molly subconsciously compensated for by pulling the lip balm out of her raincoat pocket and putting some on. It reminded her of a stop she'd have to make before she left. "Mmm, so here's what I'm after, Anika. Anything you could tell me about this woman. I have the files, I don't need the facts, unless there's something you think wouldn't be in the recorded information. But anything you could tell me about her from your impression if you think it might help. Could be opinions, suspicions, it doesn't have to be material.
"And that's what I'm looking forward to meeting with Captain Stone about, and Morgan. I'm not pushing this investigation off on you. More like, anything that you or they could give me might turn something up for me, or point me in the right direction to look."
Molly didn't know what Anika could offer, but she thought back to Jess, and one particular bit that was recorded in a conversation she had directly with Iyana.
Anika winced. "I wish I could tell you what this Iyana was like... but I never met her. I was space walking along the ships cargo spine to defuse a bomb that would have cracked off the cargo area's". Anika paused.
"All I can say is that the person we fought had contingency plans. She had prepared for us. If we did this, she could do that. If we tried to go right she'd push us left. If everything went to hell she had a way to get herself out of it. Jess was hit hard by the whole affair.... And as much as she tries to but a brave face on, it's a wound still...... Iyana put a lot of effort into hurting Jess. And the effect it had was that, on top of having to rush the assault, Iyana wanted everyone to not hold back and in the end it was to try and kill one man..... I wonder, was that her objective all along"?
Anika turned to look at Molly. "I was taught that every mission has a goal. Something that needs to be achieved in order to be considered a success or a failure. I look at what Iyana did and I don't see an objective.... Which means she did what she did because she' crazy... or her real objective was hidden amongst everything she did.... or it was hidden from us the whole time. All I know is that if we encounter her again we can't afford to stop pursing her. Iyana's at her most dangerous when she's left to prepare. But to do that she needs to know whose after her..... I hope you catch her and put a bullet in her head. Don't hesitate if you get the chance. She's a biotic and crafty and hard to get a bead on".
Molly walked alongside Anika, presuming they were on their way to meet the Captain, wherever she was. For a couple of minutes, she was quiet, hands in her raincoat pockets as she thought.
Then she said, "I would think someone like this woman would have shown up on radar before."
She bit the side of her lip, by her beauty mark. The investigations she'd gone through in her past working with homicide, the things she'd heard of while working at C-Sec. Here, the Citadel, was Molly's home, but she knew the dark side of the most idealistic hub known to thinking species. And if someone could hide in the Citadel, which they obviously could since the entirety of the thing still hadn't been explored, then they could certainly hide in the greater galaxy. Still...
"Highly intelligent, formidable, uses her abilities inflict horrible emotional suffering and dominance in a power hungry way. We're talking pushing the statistics off the ends of the chart, right? You...people notice you, Anika and not just because you're tall, or wear white...though it helps. If someone wanted to find you, they might not know where to start looking, but you get my thinking, right? Iyana, she'll show up again because people like her don't stop until they're forced to stop. But, she also has to have shown up somewhere before. There has to be a past...maybe she didn't always have that shock of white hair, or her garb, or whatever she surrounds herself with, but it had to have its beginnings. And I'm willing to bet a person like her doesn't happen overnight, pop into existence, in one moment. There's a history..."
Molly's mind started whirring. Her eyes seemed to glint with excitement. She was doing her job, what she was meant to do, put the pieces together so when the hounds were called out, the hunt was as good as over. She turned to face Anika (for once not noticing her height as the first thing she saw) and said with some urgency, "Iyana has to be trained. Like you. Somewhere. You don't get that kind of skill figuring it out for yourself. The biotics, too. Last time I checked, the Shadow Broker didn't have a school for teaching biotics. She's human, like us. Doesn't mean she always was around our kind but where would she have first started off? The Alliance? Some military...what kind of resources does it take to get someone to be a soldier, a fighter pilot possibly, and definitely a biotic slaughter machine? Maybe she wasn't such a slaughter machine back when, but human history in biotics is short, as well. We're not talking centuries of schools here, like the asari. How old does she look to you? Thirty something, right?"
Hagen had talked to Naleena, and Frank, and Anika. All of them had been left with how horrible Iyana was, and she was sure that people had taken a stab at finding out the obvious about the woman. Her direct links were clearly severed, Shadow Broker business, to be sure and a galaxy-wide APB hadn't turned her up. But there had to be a way to bridge that gap to the past. There always was. "You're Captain Stone noticed something, she said something, that got to Iyana and that's why I want to talk to her and Morgan the most. Because they got underneath her skin somehow. Something they did really, really bothered her and I swear in there is a clue."
Jess had left the ship after making sure the ship was secure. The crew knew what to do. Dogger was a stable backdrop in case anyone needed to leave the ship for whatever reason.
Walking off the ship she made her way down the gantry's towards the cargo hub and walked down the aisles of storage containers, heading towards where the Citadel map showed her where the depot office lay. She found it after walking the entire length of one aisle and saw a set of modified containers stacked on top of each other with walkways leading up to the top. Jess rolled her eye's as she began climbing up and soon she was standing outside the door with a sign saying 'Management'.
Popping her head through the door she saw a Turian on his comm, a smoking stoogie between his beak as he was listening with undisguised impatience to the other end. Jess raised a hand in greeting.
"Hey luv. Just pulled in. You got any old mag storage going? Bad welds? The kind that need retiring"?
The Turian glowered at her. "You wait one minute Pintsize....". He bellowed into the comm. "I gotta clown buzzing round my office". The Turian switched his comm to standby and pulled the stoogie from his mouth to hold it between his fingers which he pointed at Jess, as if it were a gun. "I don't know how they do on your backwater hole of a planet Peat but around here we knock before I tell you to get the hell out of my office. What? You think I've got nothing better to do than sit down and listen to your problems? Everyone want's storage! But we don't have enough of it! It's like trying to pack clowns into cars around here 'cept the punchline is a massive claim order when they find there goods arrive shattered like the dreams of all those people who think that buying crate space dirt cheap means premium service! Buncha schmucks if you ask me! Trying to save a credit! Well I've got a business to run so every credit they keep back is a credit I can't plow back into giving those ingrates the kinda shipping.....".
"Just your broken containers". Jess interrupted. "Internal carriage if you have them. Better if the mag systems work but if not we can work something out".
"What the spawn spitting wraiths does someone like you want with broken crates"?
Jess smiled. "Temporary compartments. I need facilities on my ship it doesn't have".
"You know what I can get for breaking those things up"?
"A lot less than if you sell them to me". Jess stepped inside and sat down, throwing her feet up on the desk. "I have a demand... you have a supply. And I'm not picky about the condition their in. What do you say"?
The Turian's eye's narrowed as he asked what Jess would give him for them. When she told him however, his eye's lit up.
"Lady...". he said, reaching down to the cabinet and pulled out a couple of bottles of something brown. One had the dextro warning label while the other held the amino. "...I think you and I can make a deal".
Jess smiled as a couple of glasses appeared he poured and she took hers. "I love a good deal".
Outside of the C-sec Checkpoint
“Someone, I don’t know who, reported you dead through the Shadow Broker network almost immediately after we retook the Medusa,” Naleena said. “Given what has happened to you, I think you should stay that way. We need to get you a new identification. But first, let’s get a drink.”
Morgan popped into the pilot’s seat of the X3M as the doors opened. Once they were in, he directed the autopilot, “Tayseri Ward, Kleo and Parduk’s.”
“I’m sorry, that name is not in our database,” The voice of Avina spoke, though it was the skycar’s local VI.
“Of course. Lower end of the block, Residential 46.”
“Affirmative.”
The X3M took off. It was a little over a ten minute ride, where Morgan and Naleena mostly talked about ‘the weather’, saving the important conversation for the bar. When they arrived, they had a bit of a walk through a residential neighborhood, with retail shops lining the ground floor of the buildings they passed. At one building, Morgan pointed to a sign of the place they were heading, between a stairwell to the upper residences and a plant shop. The glass on the front of Kleo and Parduk’s was tinted, though in addition to the sign, the name of the bar shone through in bright green lights.
Morgan held the door for Naleena and they entered. The space was narrow and long, with the bar running just about the entire length of the place on the left side. There were stools, and a few booths running along the right hand wall. Inside, the room was painted a dark green, lit by hanging lamps, and felt cozy, if perhaps not a bit too small. Pushing their way past the entrance, and the few drinkers who hung about, did a lot to open up the space, though. Morgan motioned to the back booth, where the two sat down.
There was a young asari working the bar alone, close enough to call over. ”What can I get you?” She asked, leaning on the bar with both hands. Morgan let Naleena order, then gave his: a shot of bourbon and an ale. The asari whipped up the drinks expertly and was about to come around the bar, but Morgan stopped her with a wave of his hand, and simply got up himself to bring them to the table.
He placed Naleena’s in front of her. ”No smokes for me, today, though maybe another time.” He raised his shot glass as a toast. “To being dead in name, only. And the Spectre’s that make it a privilege.”
Naleena ordered a glass of Elasa, another Asari liquor imported from Thessia. It was more common than the ambrosia. She raised her long stemmed glass. “To being dead in name only. It’s good to see you again. And thank the Goddess you found this place. I’ll put it in my omni-tool. How have you been? Are the holes healed?”
Morgan nodded then threw back his shot. “Close but as bad as it was, nothing critical. There’s the internal scarring that always takes a bit longer getting used to...I hate the feeling of something itching where i can’t scratch. I hope you don’t feel the slightest bit bad about it. Things happen, we fight, we understand.”
The ale Morgan had in the bottle. He picked it up, but before he took a sip, he seemed to disappear in thought for a moment. ”It made me...more resolute. Something about what happened...I think I lost whatever it was that had gotten a hold of me. I’m not saying I don’t worry, about my family, about, well, Jess...” He smirked for a second. ”But it’s a different kind of worry now. Like a corner has been turned.”
Naleena motioned to the server for another round, and continued the small talk until the drinks arrived. Once they arrived, she leaned forward and spoke quietly to Morgan. “I have some interesting things to tell you. We found the mole. Actually he came to me. It was Avan. He confessed. Go along with me.
She took his hand like she was his lover. “Later on Omega a C-sec detective named Molly Hagen tracked me down. She had been assigned to tracking the transfer of a large sum of money to a particular family and traced its origin to Omega. She had learned through a broker agent that you were dead. If I know our mutual enemy confirmation would be necessary. And given the timing of everything, this means there’s a second mole. But why would the second mole report you dead? More importantly, who is the second mole?
“This detective has been hot on the trail of our mutual enemy,” Naleena said, and kissed him on the forehead. “If she could track that tangled mess of financial transactions, she’s good. I interviewed her. Her primary interest is protecting a certain family. C-sec however closed her case which means someone above her is on the SB payroll. She is no longer working for C-sec. You remember Yalson Sao? He arranged for her to work for me now. She’s on my team, checking leads to where that b**** fled and when we find her we will take her down.
“With you dead, it keeps the family safe. But we need to set you up with a new ID. Come with me to the Spectres Office. I’ll put you in witness protection: new name, new history, everything set up new in the galactic database, and your DNA will be associated with it. I’ll issue a new ID. Will that be alright, dear?”
Morgan inadvertently tightened his grip on Naleena’s hand when his family was mentioned. “Sure. But won’t another ID be just as easy to track if it is found out?” His dark eyes receded somewhat and his jaw tightened.
Naleena leaned over and pretended she was whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You need an identity to get in and out of ports without getting that ‘our scans show you’re... dead.’ You’re made at that point. I can fix that, and I have resources I didn’t have before,” she said, then pulled back and moved her fingers up and down on the stem of her glass. “It’s not like hacking databases with VERA like I used to do. This is a legitimate ID. I can do this with my Spectre authority. Your old self will still be officially dead. You become a different person, and the only person who knows this is me. Everywhere you go you’ll be addressed by your new ID. Even the virtual ads will use your new ID. And you must never talk about the family or attempt to contact them until this is over. Kiss me.”
Morgan went through the motions, then sat forehead to forehead. “You’re saying, basically, that C-Sec is corrupted, with an agent possibly working for The Shadow Broker, or worse, Iyana directly? Then some other Shadow Broker agent wants to help me by keeping me dead so that it doesn’t get discovered, maybe by C-Sec and get back to whoever is corrupt inside that organization?”
“That’s what I find… interesting, and it has me wondering who it could be,” Naleena said sitting up a little, smiling.
With a quick glance to his side before looking back at Naleena, Morgan leaned in slightly. “The thought that a Shadow agent is close, even if what they did is helping me, is frightening in and of itself. Then the one police agency in the galaxy with the largest intelligence resources is a dead end. Maybe I should just be dead without another identity until this all gets resolved.”
Naleena caressed the back of his head. “Don’t be silly. The detective and VERA downloaded all of her files and the C-sec files about our mutual enemy before the bureaucracy had a chance to lock her out of the system, and sweet VERA wiped all traces of their accessing the C-sec database. One last thing: she wants to talk to you.”
Morgan pulled away, slightly. “The detective? Right, that would make sense. But where? I’d suppose one of the ships. She talked to you, I take it. Did she want to speak to anyone else? Essul? Jess?”
Naleena smiled. “She’s talking to everyone. Just don’t ask her about the black eye,” Naleena winked. “She’ll also want to speak with Jess. I suggest using the Deck 2 observation room near the CIC on my ship. VERA can make sure it’s soundproof and neutralize any listening devices. Enough about that….
“What have I been up to? Let’s see... You know about the hostages on Caleston, so that’s old news,” Naleena said, “Ah yes, Omega. Omega has a little different look to it, now. We blew up part of the station to halt the spread of something that is nightmare stuff. Aria was left in power, but an entire consortium is rebuilding it in exchange for mining rights in the system. And tonight, I was shot at, nearly killed, and put through a two hour grilling by another Spectre in a C-sec interrogation room. Fun times.
“So what do you say we get that ID thing taken care of while we’re both unoccupied?”
Morgan nodded again, “Sure. I just don’t want to get attached to any other names too much. I prefer the one I was born with.”
They walked out of the bar with Naleena’s arm slipped through Morgan’s, and on their way back to the car Naleena smiled. “Don’t worry. It’ll only be until that little problem is handled, then things can go back to the way they were.”
After getting her things ready to head out and do some shopping she made sure she wrote down the List of things she needed to get on her datapad,
And the list goes on, making sure she knew she could get what she needed from her suppliers she has come across through her father and other acquaintances. Once she left the Medusa she went down toward the shops to get the usual stuff anyone can find. But went to the darker and lower sections of the wards to get her custom and rare Scrap you cant find anywhere else. She took her time haggling for the pieces and dispite already getting a discount for spotting locations for them to find scrap she also (within her spare time stationed at the citadel) worked part time off the records and which gave her the know how to navigate within the guts of ships and rebuild them from scratch.
Once buisness shopping was finally done she set out and went to get her Spare Limbs and tune ups for her Arm and legs. And possibly a update for her Occular Implants which most Alliance Combat support Pilots received in order to fly with better ease. She headed up to Heueta Memorial and within a hour got in and got her legs and arm Tuned up along with several upon several different arms and legs for what ever the occasion and spares incase one bites teh dust. All for a whopping 40,000 credits cheap right?
Faed contacted an underground programming group on The Citadel to set up meeting. It had been a while since he’d been off the ship and he wanted to stretch his legs. After clearing customs and the C-sec checkpoint he took a taxi to Shalta Ward. There was a café that offered food he could eat without risking infection, and it had been a while since he’d eaten anything other than nutrient paste.
He entered the café, and found it to have a very pleasant atmosphere: not too brightly lit, warm brown carpet, faux leather seats, glass top tables, and quiet music in the background. There were a few other Quarians there. He hoped he didn’t know anyone so they’d leave him alone, but he recognized the pattern on the scarf of one of the patrons. Quarian head scarves had clan markings on them, and he knew this clan. They were one of the few who didn’t view him as a total outcast. They treated him coldly when he left, as was expected, but he’d received a message from one of the clan members apologizing for her clan’s behavior.
He approached. “Clan Galun?”
The woman turned to face him. “Clan Vells? I am Raenne'Galun nar Caema. Your voice… Faed?”
“I am he.”
“Please sit. Join me,” she said. “It has been a very long time. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Faed sat at her table. “I have a job.”
“I figured as much,” she said. “You have to try the skewers. They’re really good. What kind of job?”
“Well, I’m on a ship now.”
“Faed, I haven’t seen you in years. You can do better than that.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“Do you remember the news report about Caleston? The terrorist attack?” Faed asked.
The waiter walked up to take their order.
“Two orders of skewers, and two sides of yamkash,” she said.
“How do you know I want that?” Faed asked.
“Trust me, you want that.” Raenne replied. “And bottled UV treated water.”
“Thank you, it will be a few minutes,” the server said.
“Sometimes I think that if they didn’t start keeping everything so clean in the fleet all those years ago we wouldn’t have this problem,” Raenne said. “Anyway you were saying about the terrorist attack? What did you do? Did you help the Turians?”
Faed sighed. “No Raenne, I was one of the hostages.”
“Oh, Ancestors! I’m sorry,” Raenne said and put her hand on Faed’s.
“It’s alright,” Faed replied, taking her hand. “In any event, those Turians you heard about weren’t the ones who rescued us. There was a team led by an Asari Spectre, and I’m working for her now.”
“What has she had you doing?”
“Well, I interfaced with a Geth on Omega and it allowed me to direct it around inside a fusion reactor. And we talked for a while, too.”
Raenne paused speechless for a moment and then laughed. “Faed, you have such a sense of humor. What have you really been doing? And when are you coming back to The Fleet?”
Faed wished she could see his eyes. He wished he could see hers. “Raenne, I don’t think I’m going back to The Fleet. I’m an AI programmer. For the kind of work I do I would be exiled.”
“But a person like you is needed in the fleet. Without people even bringing up fresh ideas we’ll never see our homeworld,” Raenne said, gesturing with her hands.
“You know how I hate politics.”
“What about Admiral Xen?”
“Xen? She’s brilliant, but so single minded about bringing the Geth back under control she can’t see outside that box. I want to do a different kind of AI work. And it’s been 300 years. The Geth may have evolved to a point beyond control,” Faed said. “What about you? What are you doing on the Citadel?”
The server brought their food and set it before them. “Enjoy your meals.”
“I’m here on my pilgrimage. I have a job working for a Volus ship dealer in Zakera Ward helping him repair ships, and get them ready for sale,” Raenne said. “Mmmm. These are tasty. I’d like to bring one of those ships back to the fleet. It would be a great gift.”
“They’d make you a captain.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t that be cool. Hey, you could come back and be my first mate,” she laughed.
“But I’d have to bring something back to the fleet, and talent in AI programming is not something that’s been welcome for 300 years,” Faed sampled the skewer. “This is quite good. I’m surprised.”
“Your family worries about you, Faed. Just find something and take it back to the fleet.”
“And be cooped up on a single ship the rest of my life? With my only real entertainment being in that virtual existence we built so that we don’t go crazy in these suits?” Faed asked. “What kind of existence is that? I’m traveling the galaxy. I’ve been to Omega, Caleston, and now The Citadel. I’m not strip mining in an asteroid belt. It’s bad enough being stuck in this suit.
“Look at us, Raenna. We’re sitting in a café and we can’t even see each other’s face,” Faed said, and he started to remove his mask. “Here, I want you to see mine.”
“No, it’s too dangerous for you.”
Faed removed his mask for a moment and was able to smell the air. Raenna saw him long enough to see how handsome he was. Then he reattached his mask and gave himself an injection of anti-biotics.
“As long as you have a supply of these, you can do that,” he said, and he looked at his omni-tool. “Hey, Raenna. I need to go. Thanks for the meal.” Faed paid his share.
“You be sure to stay in touch,” Raenna said.
Faed nodded, and left for his meeting.
"Yes. Just like that..." Essul said as he watched the simulation Ilsa ran with the computers they had, showing the armor deploying the cable he'd need to use for his biotic whips.
"This is...highly unusual, I will admit. Though it's certainly an interesting challenge..." Ilsa said as she worked on calibrating the simulated armors gauntlets, "I think...I can do it without altering the designs too much." She said as she cracked her fingers, going to work imputting the data as she smiled, "This is so exciting. A chance to see batarian armor designs from a knowledge source. If only I had access to the armor itself though..." she said with a pout before she realized essul was still next to her, "N-not that your accounts aren't valuable. It's just...it'd be such an advantage for our company to actually study some alien armors. So many companies have anti-deep scan measures and copy right claims just waiting to pounce. It makes it so hard to study new tech to use..."
Essul was silent as he thought things over, thinking back to the events that led him here. He clenched his fist as he decided to do something unusual for him. Something he'd have thought insane to do earlier.
"Say...Miss Hawkwood..." Essul asked as she glanced over to him, "Yes?" She asked as she kept working on his armor design, finalizing some pieces and calculating the price. "How would you like the chance to study some Batarian armor? Damaged electrical systems, but mostly in-tact functions and hardware?" he asked as she suddenly stopped typing, hand shaking as she looked to him.
"T-that w-would be...that'd be..." She stuttered as she suddenly became quite blush, "That'd be wonderful!!! A real chance to study batarian armor not recovered from battle engagements? A-a-and only with electrical damages...we've never had a chance like that before!" She said excitedly as she tried to calm down, seemingly so excited about the whole thing, "It could put us ahead of our competition by years! Or at the very least give us a deeper understanding of some of the batarian preferences for aesthetics and functionality."
"Well...you and your company can have it if you want...It's no use to me anymore anyway..." Essul said as suddenly he felt a strange sensation he'd never felt before, as Ilsa ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a non-threatening manner, "W-what are you doing!?" He asked as he looked down to her in surprise. He'd seen humans do it, a few other species as well. But in batarian society it just wasn't done. Not when it put so much of a persons body, and their body language, out of view.
"Thank you so much for this!!! You don't know how much this'd mean to us!!" Ilsa exclaimed as she suddenly backed off, looking embarrased as she coughed slightly, "I apologize...I can get a bit...emotional, when I'm excited." She explained, blushing up a storm, but shock her head to clear her thoughts. "Mr. Ran'perah. If you get me that armor. Then I'll give you your custom armor within the hour. No need for endorsement or contract, it'll be yours, and you'll be able to wear it out of the store if you'd like..." She said, a steely determination in her voice as essul blinked in surprise, not having expected it from the human.
Essul got on his comms, contacting the person he knew could help him, "Septimus...it's Essul. I need you to take my armor, and bring it to my current location....Zakera ward, just outside of the Presidum Commons entrance. Level 32." He said as he told the turian where to take his armor. Now all that was left to do was to sit back, and wait.
“You’re crazy as a loon. She’s not here? At all?”
“No, Miss Priss,” Nu’lyr answered, calmly and still pleasantly, “She retired.”
“Well, <HISS> you’re still here. Why didn’t you go with her?”
Nu’lyr answered with a laugh, “It isn’t as if the Citadel suddenly lost its need for companionship. And people have come to expect a certain reliability of service, despite the troubles that our business sometimes brings.”
“And…,” Priss said, leaning in with a grin of her own.
“And, of course, Miss Priss. We understand each other completely.”
“So why are you still answering the door?” Mister Charles asked, striking a stance of curiosity.
Another delightful laugh burst forth from Nu’lyr, “I like it! And besides, is there really anything wrong with knowing everyone that comes in? I’ve got a three-month waiting list myself these days, but I’d never give up my two hours here greeting people. Look how lucky it is that I was here meeting you. If I wasn’t answering the door, we might not have talked!”
“Which means…,”Mister Charles led, “If you weren’t answering the door right now, we’d have some time to spend together.”
Nu’lyr looked sidelong at Charles for a moment, still smiling, “You I haven’t met before, Mister Charles, but I see you fit right in with your new friends. Very promising. But what would happen if I broke my own rules?”
Miss Priss twirled her long brown hair, then leaned on the console by the entrance and looked directly into the asari’s eyes. “They’re your own rules because you’re in charge now. Which means you ain’t breakin’ nothin’.”
“…Miss Priss…”
“…and it’s us, after all.”
Something startled Nu’lyr in Miss Priss’ light brown eyes, causing her to silently gasp before she caught her own break of poise. Nu’lyr smiled again and replied, “I see you haven’t lost everything you’ve learned, Miss Priss. Let’s make an exception this once. We can catch up with each other, and I look forward to a proper introduction to Mister Charles.” Nu’lyr called over an acolyte to replace her at the front as she led the Candy Triplets into the chambers.
“And, I hope we’ll be able to update each other on persons not present,” Miss Priss remarked as she sauntered along next to Nu’lyr.
“Of course!” Nu’lyr beamed. “By the way, I have a story to share about a certain woman. It wouldn’t be mentioned if I didn’t have this strange feeling you’re going to run into her, if you haven’t already…”
~ ~ ~ ~
Babe was now in the forward top cannon turret, which had a very similar short and narrow corridor that led to the gun chair. Doctor Hayashi was in that corridor, watching Babe as she stood next to the cannon and worked.
"So, this is the inside of the heat dispersion system, or basically what us gunners call the thermal dump. You don't open this unless you're covered in an environment suit or the gun is cooled. Not unless you want to become a burnt little cookie. It takes all the heat from firing and sends it out into space. Okay, so I spend some time working out..."
Yes you do..., Amy thought as she watched. Babe had changed before she'd gotten to her lessons. She still wore form fitting leather pants with studs along the sides, though now they were a midnight blue. Babe also still wore boots, but they were now a dark brown suede and came up just over her knee. Her top had been replaced by a white, tight, cotton short sleeved crop top that left her unbelievable midriff exposed. No bracers anymore, but a pair of black fingerless driving gloves and a belt of brown leather which hung on her hips without touching a single belt loop.
Why am I paying attention to so much detail?...
An absolutely ridiculous question Amy knew the answer to. But there was this tattoo that was partially exposed on Babe's back, climbing up her right side, though it became partially hidden under the crop top. The colors were rich and luminous, and Amy was trying to figure out what the part she could see was, whether it was a floral pattern, or the beginning of a tiger, or a dragon...
"Are you listening back there?"
"Yes."
"So...you don't have to be worried about being some hulk like Largo to slide this thing open or closed, as long as we keep this thing the well-oiled mechanism it is. Sure, you put your weight into it, but you can do it. I'll show you once, and then you try."
Babe grabbed the alloy handle of a slide behind where the cannon's thermal dump chamber was exposed with her gloved right hand. With one smooth motion, she lunged forward, stretching from calf to thigh, to 'glute', to hip, to shoulder, to arm and finally to grip. There was the pleasing sound of sliding gears and an audible, satisfying clack as the chamber was closed. Babe pulled back on the handle, to redundantly test the mechanism and only let go once she was satisfied it wouldn't budge.
"See that?" Babe asked while admiring the cannon. "Tight as can be."
Amy Hayashi pat the bun on the top of her head.
Huerta Memorial - Irina’s Discharge
Irina had a loose fitting jump suit delivered to her hospital room to wear on her way back to the ship. They were releasing her today. She got a look at herself in the mirror and was covered in bruises from the skin weave. Dr. Michel had given her some pain killers to take for the next 48 hrs until the weave completed its programmed micropaths. Everything had gone well, and Dr. Tolus could monitor the rest of the process.
“It wasn’t bad enough getting mixed up with a Krogan. No. You had to get yourself mixed up with a Krogan with a blood feud with a clan leader,” she said looking in the mirror after zipping up the gray jump suit. “And you have to be the kind of fool who becomes their Krannt. Good going, Irina. Good going. You didn’t want to live forever, anyway. Ah, f*ck it.”
She picked up her duffle bag and left the hospital.
The Citadel - Spectres Office
Naleena escorted Morgan into the Spectres Office and found a private office that Spectres use when they’re in from the field to file reports and handle other business. It was basically a desk and a couple of chairs. She closed the door after the two entered, and set a jamming device on the desk.
“So Morgan, are you ready?” she asked as she took her seat behind the desk.
“I don’t know. How do we do this?” Morgan asked.
“What I used to do was to find someone who was dead. Killed in an accident, like a ship accident or something like that. Some no-name without a family. And I’d swap out DNA records. That would work until someone cross-indexed with another system,” Naleena said. “But for you, I have a whole new person available. You’re a witness to a crime. So how about… Sean Morales?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“You’re from an Earth city called Houston. You’re a freelance bodyguard. No college. No military. You’ve been a spacer for 15 years going from one place to the next. Now to doctor up your passport. You’ve basically been all over the place. Read some travel brochures if any of these places look strange to you. I tried to keep the destinations pretty common.
“Now all I do is move your DNA record, retinal scans, and palm and fingerprints over to this file and move this random dead person’s into yours,” Naleena said. “Test this on my Omni-tool by scanning you…. Good day, Mr. Morales. Save the work, and update all galactic databases using my Spectre authorization code. And let me update your omni-tool and set you up with a new e-mail account.”
Naleena made some clicks on her keyboard. “That should take care of everything.”
“So that’s it? You’re sure this will work?” Morgan asked.
“Even the Shadow Broker won’t see your old self. You can test it by going through the C-sec checkpoint.”
The two of them left the office. “It was good to see you again, Sean. I have some business I need to take care of, and I’ll let my new teammate know you’re around so you can introduce yourself.”
Dahlia had some down time and decided to do some shopping on The Citadel. There were some shops on the Presidium, and she had some money saved up. Retail therapy was a good thing. She wanted to get off the ship, too. There were too many visions of craziness on it. It was bothering her.
She took the first taxi she could find to the Presidium. Kanala Exports had some nice things and had an actual storefront. They were next to a Volus Financial institution as well and she wanted to invest some money in the galactic markets.
She walked out of Kanala Exports with some nice sporty clothes to wear around on the ship rather than the same smelly stuff day after day. Then she headed next door to talk to the investment counselor.
The office was typical of that of a financial institution: neat, with financial magazines on the tables near the seating in the waiting area.
“May I be of assistance?” the Asari behind the desk asked.
“I would like to speak with Mr. Von, please.” Dahlia said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. My ship is only here for a couple of days, and I really need to see him,” she said. “Tell him that my investments are but a penumbra of what they could be with the proper management.”
A voice over the intercom was heard. “fssssk .. Send her in, please.”
Barla Von stood behind his desk. He had a platform built so that it was at a comfortable height for him. There were paintings of Volus leaders on the walls without their encounter suits. People needed to see them, he thought.
“Please close the door behind you. I’m Barla Von. Please sit. What can I do for you agent?”
Dahlia sat in the comfortable leather chair opposite Von. “I’m Operative 66 aka Snowman. I haven’t reported in for a while due to lack of opportunity.”
“It is good that you checked in with me,” Von said.
Dahlia sighed. “I hope I have not put myself in danger since my last actions pitted me against a top Broker Agent whom I think you would know as Iyana.”
“fsssk… I would not concern myself. There have been changes. Fsssk… Iyana has gone rogue and is missing,” Von said waving off her last remark.
“What?”
Von walked along his platform. “The Shadow Broker has determined that there is an imminent threat to all life in the galaxy and we must prepare for it. In addition to our normal information brokering activities, any leads we discover regarding Prothean artifacts or Reapers are to be forwarded to the Shadow Broker on a priority basis.
“Also unlike the past few years, all information is to be routed directly from Cell Leaders to the Shadow Broker. It is not to be shared among cells. That directive did not sit well with those who had carved out their own small operations.”
“So things have gone back…”
“To the way they used to be.”
Dahlia sighed. “There has been a change at the top again.”
“And we’ll simply follow our directives as before.”
“So what do I do if Cell Leader 4 makes contact?”
“Contact me immediately.”
“So where should I invest my credits?” Dahlia asked.
“If I look at the balance sheets, given recent events, I’d steer clear of the large firms like Eldfell-Ashland, and the others investing in Omega…. They’ll show a decline in profits, except for Elkoss Combine. Recently they received a large order from the Alliance…. And with troubles brewing between the Alliance and the Batarians, I’d invest in the Alliance suppliers…. I have a diversified fund that might suit your needs.”
“I’d like to invest 20000 CR in that fund.”
“An excellent choice, Dahlia,” Von said. “I’ll have my assistant complete the documents…. Your funds will be invested at opening tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Dahlia left Barla Von’s office and stopped at a café near the docking area.
Location: Hourglass Nebula/Sowilo System/Hagalaz
The first thing Liara did after becoming Shadow Broker was to find a way to move the ship and hide it. She knew it was only a matter of time before The Illusive Man sent a team to assault it. It had been where it was hiding in plain sight for several decades. She didn’t have to move it very far: 1500 km would be sufficient, in addition to installing stealth tech on the ship. Once that was completed the ship was safe.
Her sources informed her that Shepard was now ex-Spectre Shepard. The Council was not pleased with the fact that she gave the base she discovered in the galactic core, the Collector Base, to Cerberus, a pro-human terrorist organization. The Council in turn declared her rogue and was now hunting her. Her eyes welled when she heard the news. There was little if anything Liara could do to help her, and there was still the matter of stopping the Reapers.
Liara stood in front of her console, the display showing nothing but static, however she had voice communication available.
Feron was trying to communicate with her, and his signal periodically broke up. “Tell me why you’re sending me here, again?”
“Call it a hunch,” Liara replied.
“You wouldn’t send me to a toxic planet in the middle of the Omega cluster on a hunch,” Feron replied. “What’s the real story?”
Liara took a deep breath. “Just know that it is important and might give us some intelligence on the Reapers.”
“What did you say?” Feron replied not being able to make out what she said over the static.
“Can you hear me?” Liara replied as the static grew louder. “Feron! Feron!.... Sh*t!”
The Janiri
Dr. Tolus had been examining the armor from the dead mercenaries and discovered a fascinating modification. He called Jenus and Naleena down to Med-lab and began going over the details. Irina was in Med-Lab having just been checked by one of his assistants.
“Simple modification to suit was why mercenaries on Omega were so tough,” Tolus said. “Every time they were wounded, Medi-gel was applied directly to general area of wound.”
Jenus had a bit of a blank expression on her face as Tolus explained the mechanics. “I don’t get it.”
“Painfully simple,” Tolus replied. “If any simpler, would not exist.”
“So once you install this in our armor, we’ll get our Medi-gel faster, is that correct?” Naleena asked.
“Correct.”
“You’re sh*tting me,” Irina said, “You mean I got this skin weave for nothing?”
“No. No. Skin weave different. Hardens skin and provides protection. Also gets Medi-gel to exact location of injury, and more internal,” Tolus said. “Well worth expense.”
“At least I didn’t waste my money,” Irina said as she hopped off the examination table and started putting on her jump suit.
“So how soon can we get this?” Jenus asked.
“Can start right away,” Tolus replied, “Call your commandos. Do them first.”
“Do it. Doctor, I’m giving you authority to make sure everyone on the team has this upgrade,” Naleena said, and then started to leave.
The comm light flashed in the Medical Bay. It was VERA.
“Go ahead, VERA.” Dr. Tolus said.
“I have a Priority 1 call on QEC for the boss. It is private,” VERA reported.
“I’ll take it in the Conference Room,” Naleena said and turned to the group. “Excuse me.”
Priority 1 was reserved for The Council. Sh*t! Fallout from the Remi report, most likely. ‘Return to the Spectre's Office, turn in your badge.’ She thought. She was ready for it. She had blasted Xanthe and stormed out of the interrogation room. Naleena was not a politician. She hated them. They used people like her to clean up their messes. It was the politicians of the galaxy who made her a wealthy Asari.
She walked into the Conference Room and the table lowered after she pressed a series of buttons, and she stood on the QE pad ready to face the music. The image before her was familiar, but not of any Council member. It was Liara.
“Dr. T’soni? How did you get this frequency?” Naleena asked.
“I’m a very good information broker,” Liara replied. “And if you’re trying to trace this signal, don’t bother. I’m bouncing it off every single QE relay in the galaxy.”
“Dr. T’soni is correct, boss. I have attempted several protocols to trace the origin of QEC signals,” VERA said.
“Your AI?” Liara asked in a smug tone.
“I…” Naleena started to say.
“Don’t answer that,” Liara said, “I know you must be busy so I’ll get straight to the point. A year ago, Shepard followed several leads that led to Kopis in the Hades Nexus cluster where she found a Prothean relic (Project Firewalker). She said it looked similar to the one we had discovered on Eletania, however when she touched it, it deactivated and dropped to the floor. She kept it as a souvenir and later gave it to me for analysis. I began running some tests, and it began putting out energy. I have been monitoring the output.”
“Go on.”
“At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual – just some traces of element zero. Then I noticed a spike in the element zero profile,” Liara said and displayed the chart behind her.
“A spike?”
“Yes. In its purest form, element zero is just that — pure, unmarked. But if it’s been in a location long enough, or exposed to other elements, you can sometimes see the external imprints in its profile,” Liara said and pointed to several peaks on the chart, “This is the profile from the relic; when I did a search, I found only one other planet with this profile: Eingana in the Amada System.”
“VERA, display Eingana’s ecosystem,” Naleena said.
“Yes, boss.” VERA replied and displayed the chart.
“Rainforest with biotic flora and fauna? Fascinating. I’m surprised we haven’t staked out the world as a hunting resort.”
“It’s too dangerous. The isotope of eezo that registered as the spike is unstable,” Liara said.
“Then tell me again why you’re calling me with this?”
“The relic gave me a possible lead, so I sent my friend Feron to check it out before I contacted you in case it turned out to be a dead end,” Liara’s eyes began to well. “I lost contact with him about an hour ago. The communications technology we’re using shouldn’t have been affected by Eingana’s atmosphere. Something else interfered…. I’m worried.”
“And exactly how is this my problem, Dr.?” Naleena asked.
“Feron is Drell. He’s a close friend. With the high humidity he could die!” Liara said, “And it’s not just Feron. It’s what he was investigating. It’s the relic and what it could lead to. We know so little about the Protheans and the Reapers. This could be big, and with Shepard having been declared rogue, I have nowhere else to turn. If you need credits, I’ll pay you.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Dr. T’soni. If this turns out to be only a rescue mission you’ll receive a bill. I have to cover my expenses,” Naleena said. “However, if it turns out to be as big as you say....”
“It’s big…,” Liara replied. “You have to trust me. I’ll send you all the information I have over this QEC frequency. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“I am ready anytime, Dr. T’soni,” VERA replied.
“Transferring files, now. Good luck, and thank you. T’soni out.”
Naleena waited for the file download. She took a cigarette out of her case and lit it. “How long before the download is complete, VERA?”
“Fifteen minutes, Boss,” VERA replied. “Boss, it is likely she has had interaction with another artificial intelligence, most likely the one on the Normandy. I would not be concerned with her knowing about me. Still, with her being an information broker I would not get on her bad side.”
“Noted.”
So there's Morgan, at this Kiosk...shopping.
Possibly on the list of very last list of things he'd ever thought he'd be doing, Morgan couldn't believe he was actually deep into a multi-vendor kiosk menue, spending well over thirty minutes trying to decide what kind of armor he should purchase. He'd come out with Naleena and as they stepped onto a bridge over the Presidium's artificial lake (or was it supposed to be a river? It did run along the center of the ring like one), he'd spotted the kiosk. It was newly installed, apparently, and its convenience had Morgan stop. He assured Naleena he wouldn't be long, but about ten minutes into his search, he'd noticed she was gone from his side. She could have been on a bench behind him, in some nearby shop, or have disappeared entirely; Morgan didn't even spare a glance. He was going through the variations on models and there were hundreds of minor variations, even if there were only so many manufacturers.
The technical end had been easiest, actually. He wasn't a biotic so that took off all the amp enhancing gear. He wasn't an infiltrator or engineer, so he didn't need most enhancements and was looking at the medium or heavy end of the armor spectrum. But most of the first twenty minutes was spent making decisions on the technical layout and fittings (he really liked the holographic sizing up for fit...something he'd never seen before). Nothing he was getting was customized so Morgan didn't need to actually head into a shop, but the Kiosk had been work enough. But the last ten minutes, and counting, of his indecision had been about how the armor should look.
What has gotten into you, Morgan?
Morgan knew the answer. He was no longer a shadow broker agent, trying to blend in, no longer trying to have the average person pass him by without a second thought. Of course, he wasn't trying to make any over-the-top statements either. The issue was he was on a ship now that he had a responsibility for, and that needed to show somehow. Predominantly, and Morgan would never believe it was otherwise, a person needed to express their position through body language, demeanor, communication both verbal and non-verbal. However, to think people didn't need a visual reminder now and then was just as ridiculous. Morgan went through people he knew that made use of visual cues effectively. The best example was Anika, who wore white to grab attention when she was Jess' bodyguard. That worked because Jess herself was pretty visually distinct. Speaking of which Morgan didn't want to put anything on which would grab attention away from her as the Captain, even if he would take a shot for her (that would simply have to come down to his alertness). The Candy Triplets wore colors absolutely dragging attention to themselves, for obvious reasons. Priss wore so much pink that her holdout pistol was plated in the color.
"Pink," Morgan blurted out loud as he thought of the image of the gun.
The VI on the kiosk responded, "Armor color pink. Please choose gradation."
"Cancel! Cancel, that's not my color."
"Color choice cancelled."
Though gun plating is one way to go, Morgan thought. But most modern weapons were sensibly functional in design. Sure, the casing might be red on a few but that was about it. Light gray, dark gray, medium red, or black, looking as much like plastic cases with tubes sticking out as guns. Morgan never had a problem with that; a weapon was meant to kill, not to make a fashion statemet. Except some of them do both, and Morgan admitted, he had a thing for nickel plating. In fact, what did he get Jess again for a present?
Gold plating for her guns, with the names of the weapons engraved on them in long hand.
"Sonofa..."
"I am sorry, we do not have that color available."
And then the gun would have to be worn on the hip, and the kind of gun that looked decent in that sort of thing. A Phaeston wasn't going to do it. Morgan grumbled in frustration. He was stuck on the gun, let alone the armor. And he was at an armor kiosk anyway, not a gun kiosk.
"Can you sell me a kit that will allow me to alter the coloration of my armor on my own?" Morgan asked the VI.
"Affirmative. The following is a list of armor pattern printers and the cartridge replacement costs."
Morgan looked at the long list and his eyes widened at first. Then he sighed and leaned his head forward to bang against the top of the kiosk.
"Fine. Include the cost of the Regelen Printer and four extra cartridges."
"Thank you. Armor will be provided in neutral grey, a perfect primer for whatever color you decide to use on your brand new suit. Total cost comes to..."
Shopping just wasn't Morgan's thing. At least he'd gotten his armor. He could sort out the color patterns, and if he should add any other symbols or marks to it later.
After the haggling, the clinking of glasses, the moving of the containers to the Medusa, the loading and maneurvering into the cargo hanger and subsequent positioning inside, near the back where the airlock to the spine lay...... After all that Jess stepped back and finally looked over her acquisition.
Three cargo hanger containers that had seen better days rested where she'd had them dropped off. Some of the frames looked bent where they had borne to much weight over the years. One had a crumpled edge that indicated fall damage. The sheet paneling had come loose in places and lay sprung open, allowing those walking by to see inside.
At least the mag clamps still worked. Jess had been adament. Going so far as to inspect and test them back at the depot. The last thing she needed was these three piles of trash skidding across the deck.
Shrugging off her jacket Jess pulled on a set of coveralls from her work locker before grabbing a weld rig. A piece of machinery that held all the tools she needed along with an arcer. Choosing the least damaged of the containers she set to work arranging several sets of rams that she used old hullmplating to spread the load. Using one set to apply pressure to the roof of the container she used another the rig to push back against one of the buckled doors frames that saw the roof sloping down to the ground at the front. Slowly, the container gained its cuboid shape back and when it was done Jess lit the welder and attacked the stressed metal. Cutting away both the doors and the whole length of buckled frame that she replaced with a stronger beam of box metal. Now permanently open at one end Jess doused the torch before lighting up her Omni tool. Walking inside she inspected the group interior. The hanger lights on the outside showing the holes inside that Jess looked at and marked on her omni tool display.
By now a small crowd had gathered outside the open end as a crew looked inside. Finishing her sweep Jess met them and one wearing a bandanna tomhold his hair back cleared his throat.
"Captain? What are these"?
" Shipping containers luv. Three broke ass cheap as shipping containers".
The bandanna nodded as if that told him anything then stopped as he realised the answer hadn't really been that illuminating. "Why"?
Instead of answering Jess pointed a finger over to sheets of the old bulkhead plating. "If you got time to jaw you got time to weld. You two, get the plating on the outside tapped down. You other three, get those plates welded together and ground down smooth. I want the sides lined four plates thick and six plates at the back welded at an angle to deflect down. Make sure the floor there gets six plates too". She looked between the group who were looking at each other, unsure what to make of the directions.
"Okay, lets try this. Everybody look up".
All the deckhands looked up. From off to the side there came the sound of impact and something hit the deck.
"Now everybody look at me".
Looking back at Jess they saw her shaking out her hand. Looking to the side, the four saw the fifth lying on the ground with an ugly bruise developing near his jawline.
"You two work the outside. You two work the inside. The why? Because I told you too. Weld like I said. I want the inside sleeved with plates.... Any questions"?
All four deckhands vigorously shock their heads.
"Good. Get your friend working when he comes around".
Handing over her scans, Jess went to work on the other two containers. Correcting the structural faults. Replacing the compromised metals. This two she kept the doors intact and when she was done she stepped back, satisfied.
Behind her she heard the footsteps of the others and she turned to see the deckers looking at her work. "We finished like you said.... What are we doing.....".
Jess rolled her eyes. "Building luv.... Your an engineer right? The question is, what am I getting you building..... You done"?
Not waiting to hear his response, Jess turned and walked back to look inside and saw the interior had indeed been covered with the old bulkhead plating and smoothed. She spotted a few sections where the plates weren't level but otherwise she had to admit. It looked good.
"Not bad.... Not bad at all. Break out the paint and make the inside white. All the way down".
"But captain.... What is it"?
Jess gave the group an exasperated sigh. Then without warning she pulled Sinbad from her thigh. The deck hands took a startled step backwards as she swung the weapon around past them to point directly down the length of the container. She pulled the trigger in rapid succession and rounds flew down the container to impact the plating at the back. The angle forced the rounds to deflect down where, with nearly all their kinetic energy spent, they plinked and bounced off the floor plating. Jess kept firing till the clip was spent and when she lowered her gun all eyes were on her.
"Its our new gun range luv's". She announced. "We haven't time to get all of you through the Citadel training courses so while we're in space Dogger will see to it you all have basic firearm training. Those who prove to be good can expect advanced training. My last crew didn't get what I'm offering so consider yourselves lucky I'm in a generous mood".
Slipping Sinbad back in his holster Jess jerked her head to the new range. "Paint it. Light it. The consider it a competition who can build the best target environment in there". She called out to all in the bay. With that, she stalked off. Feeling a slow boiling anger at the encounter with her new deck hands. It wasn't till she'd gotten to her locker when she realised what was wrong.
'I don't know them.... They don't know how to take orders.... They don't look at what their doing..... They want the answer before they get to it instead of listening to instruction....'. It was something she'd known she'd have to face. Whipping the well intentioned schooled training out of them to make them savvy, dependable workers. 'I don't know their names.... I knew everyone before.... But now'?
It was another reminder that the past had been cut away. The ship was becoming whole once more but its spirit had been irrevocably altered. And as one of those who was still connected to that past the anguish seemed hers and hers alone to bear.
The feeling of the heavy weight in her chest was interrupted by the sound of her common pinging her.
"Jess". She acknowledged.
"Permission to come aboard Cap'n".
Jess's lips cracked into a smile. "Anika"?
"Aye. And I have someone here who wants to talk to you".
“That is something else,” Molly said, and for once she wasn’t talking about the seven foot tall giantess she was walking next to.
Hagen was talking about the Medusa and when she saw it, she really had no idea what to expect, but she definitely did not expect an old generation ship. The detective gawked the whole walk up the gangway, taking in the relic from the past. She, in fact, was still gawking when Anika greeted the person she wanted to talk to.
Then Molly fixed her eyes on the Captain. The African-American was of average height and that was the only thing average about her. She had a look about her that screamed in charge, and with style. Someone who could be your best friend or your worst, most furious enemy. Molly couldn’t place whether it was the reddish brown hair, the mismatched eyes (one glinting out at her), the smile that seemed just ready to break on her lips, the clothes or something else entirely. In the end, Hagen determined it was everything, put together, no one component accounting for all of it.
And Molly felt oddly plain. She never considered herself much, but the Captain might have been that last straw. Since she’d run into this group of people that she associated with the Spectre, they were wild, full of character, out there, they drew a person in. Molly wasn’t any of that as far as she was concerned, just a plain, rather (correct very) boring individual. Even her white armor, hidden under her drab raincoat, wasn’t like the white that Anika wore; being a comic fan, and of course delving into the ‘classics’ that were inevitable spin-offs of being a comic fan, Molly’s armor (the part that could be seen) reminder her of Storm Trooper armor. Not the glossy white armor of the Death Star Storm Troopers, but the worn, scuffed, desert armor worn by the outpost Troopers on Tatooine. And Hagen’s armor was clean. So Molly jammed her hands in her pockets and gave a polite, “Hi.”
Jess saw something different, being more than just a sharp judge of character. Sure, this woman in front of her was surface plain. No make up (wait, except for…was that lip balm?), clean, unadorned, the only physical feature that was first noticeable about her face was her beauty mark just above her lip. But there the person under the surface began, as Jess studied further into the face of the woman with Anika. She was attractive, needing no embellishment of makeup. And that would be by most standards. Then there was the character beyond that; something struck out from her and Jess knew exactly what it was. This woman was tough. Not in a physical way, but in a determined way. A never-give-up way. The kind of person who couldn’t stop, once they got going on a path, if they knew it was the right path.
“I’m Detective Molly Hagen.” Molly pulled a hand from her raincoat and offered it to the Captain. “Of, well formerly of C-Sec. I’’m not with them right now, as I’m working with Naleena. And I’d like to talk to you about something without a lot of ears present regarding the person who tried to take this ship from you.”
There was a break in Molly’s expression, like a thought interrupted her greeting. One of her eyebrows crossed downward, but then it was as if she dismissed whatever was on her mind. Hagen smiled in a friendly way and added, “You’re one of two people I’ve been wanting to talk to very badly.”
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