Jeff Moreau.
Extracting EDI turned out to be unexpectedly simple. Yes, the SSV Normandy was sealed and under guard. But, apparently for their own reasons, no one forbade using a standard shuttle as transport. All that remained was to disconnect EDI's unit and get her off the ship. Plus, Liara helped by finding the right xenos for a diversion. And with the tickets, too. As she explained:
"I am not the Shadow Broker right now, but I know where to look for certain necessary specialists who are not under the Council's control. Other personalities in the same positions."
It sounds dubious, but I'm not a specialist in crime. That's Shepard, Liara, or Wrex. It worked, that's the main thing. And Liara got them a ticket for a ship. I hope they have time to clear out; it'll be much easier to get lost on Omega. EDI's avatar is mobile, but her main memory is on a server, a rather large one, about the size of a weapon crate.
How much easier it would have been with Thane or Kasumi! But the former died of illness, and the latter stayed in the future. We have to improvise to give Tali a chance to reach her people and for EDI to survive. The opportunity to extract the server presented itself. Curious and greedy. News of the SSV Normandy spread through the Citadel like wildfire, and the number of people wanting to see the ship was simply indecent. They even moved the ship from the outer docks to the inner ones so it wouldn't interfere with traffic. More precisely, to a repair dock on the Asari wing of the Citadel. And everyone interested swarmed there. The number of people wanting to take a look, flying in on air-cars or sneaking into the repair zone, is just beyond all limits. Nothing stops the curious; C-Sec barely manages to be everywhere.
"Curiosity doesn't depend on race, does it?" I laughed when C-Sec dragged some idiot with a cloaking generator out through the airlock.
"That's our opening, Joker," Tali noted.
Among other things, they tried to remove, unscrew, or cut something off. Even a couple of Quarians, clearly on their Pilgrimage, were noted for this. And so the plan was developed. A group of hired Krogan, for a certain sum, crawled through a "coincidentally" open airlock, snatched a weapon crate, and bolted. They were caught, the weapons were confiscated, and they were fined. Well, as for the fact that the crate didn't contain rifles but something else, and it had been dropped in an alleyway... well, who knew? I certainly knew, and the SSV Normandy's landing party did too. C-Sec didn't.
By the time they realize, it'll be too late. Those guys gave us a good run for our money when we poked them with the manifest, according to which there should have been twelve M-15 Vindicator rifles in the crate, but only one was inside. Well, the Krogan kept quiet, yeah. I laughed nervously when C-Sec finally backed off. I'll have to give the guys a rifle each as a gift; EDI made all the manifests in the ship's database anyway, and there are slightly fewer weapons listed than there actually are on board. Perhaps it's wrong. But, given the Council's rather sluggish reaction to the information about the Reapers and their unhealthy interest in technology, no one wanted to leave a crew member to certain death. Therefore, she was hidden away as carefully as possible while Javik and Tali wait for transport.
It's not that I wanted to part with her. But while no one knows who EDI is, I've already managed to get noticed by the locals as an ace pilot. And all the Council races have offered me a job. And something tells me that if I try to refuse and fly away, they'll just kidnap me, and I won't even be able to run. Vrolik Syndrome, damn it. I'll have to choose. But it also means EDI will have to stay with Tali; it's safer for her. Liara will be the first to leave us; the next day, EDI, Javik, and Tali. Liara asked us to meet her mother together.
"Benezia is interested in your presence. They don't know who EDI is and will expect her to go with you. She'll be recruiting, Jeff, I'm warning you now."
Well, what about me. The Turians offered a role as an instructor at one of their bases. Vrolik Syndrome, plus they are dextro-based and don't know me. I want to hear other offers. If my health were better, I could still run around, but not in my case. Maybe Liara can talk her mother into something good. Matriarch Benezia appeared accompanied by two commandos of her own species. Judging by the slight shock on Liara's face—who had spent time calming herself down—she knows them. Not surprising; Liara said her mother's guard helped raise her as a collective. Psychological pressure, but our Asari has experience with such games too. By the time the Matriarch and her guard approached, Liara had already composed herself and greeted them.
"Matriarch Benezia, I am glad to meet you."
"Greetings," I agreed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
I'm not used to talking to the big brass; usually, that's John's job. And John is gone, yeah. The Matriarch gave a barely perceptible nod; the commandos exchanged glances. All three shifted their gaze from Liara to me. Well, yeah, they haven't seen Humans before. This attention is a bit annoying, which is why the team spends a lot of time on the ship. I wouldn't have come out myself if not for Liara's request.
"Doctor T'Soni, and you, I presume, are Jeff Moreau. I am glad to meet you," the Matriarch greeted.
I don't like the way those commandos are looking at me. What do they want?
"We are too, Matriarch," Liara agreed, "I am ready to depart whenever you say."
How they both keep their composure, I'm just in awe. The commandos are clearly exchanging glances and staring at me. I'm amazing, I know. But my heart belongs to EDI. Yet both Liara and her mother maintain a perfect poker face and don't show that the situation is quite unusual or embarrassing. They look alike; you can tell immediately, mother and daughter. Benezia nodded and turned to me.
"There is no need to rush; my ship will wait for our return. And you, Jeff, what do you plan to do? Your skills have found resonance on Thessia. To remove you from the cockpit of a starship would be a waste of talent. I am certain of that."
Hitting where it hurts. Does she know about the Turians' offer? But the compliment is pleasant, and she's right. I smirked.
"Well, I know I'm good. But I wasn't sure I was that good. Actually, I've been offered a job in the Turian Hierarchy as an instructor. Along with the rest of the 'Norma' crew."
Liara rolled her eyes, while Benezia smirked. She doesn't look young, but she's a sturdy and self-assured woman, well over forty if she were human. Not old, but age is already having its say. Damn, Aria is a Matriarch too and looks gorgeous for her... how old is she? Hot Asari MILFs.
Benezia spoke:
"Then I can pass another offer to you, Joker. A combat pilot for our space fleet. Active duty, not an instructor. Subject to qualification confirmation, but I have been assured that won't be a problem for you."
Damn, that's... actually much cooler than what the Turians are offering. And young Asari maidens are much prettier. When I glanced at Liara, she just gave a perfectly human shrug. Well, okay. Actually interesting—even though the ship will clearly go to the Turian Hierarchy, the Asari are the ones holding and repairing it. And clearly scanning it. It seems the Council is dividing the ship exactly like that. The Turians get the ship itself, the Asari get the blueprints and schematics. I don't know what the Salarians get. Information? We've already dismantled EDI. The logs will remain there, but my girl took the technical data with her.
They didn't tell us this; one can only guess what kind of divvying up was going on. One good thing: the crew was allowed to choose a side themselves. I mean, Liara and Garrus will obviously return to their own, Tali too, with what EDI uploaded to her omni-tool. Javik was successfully forgotten while they were dividing the tech, and he'll go with Tali and EDI to the Quarians. Rather, Javik diligently pretended he wasn't there and wasn't important. Given his habit of sitting in the cargo hold, it even worked; he wasn't expected. Most of the rank-and-file crew split into equal groups between the Asari and Turians; no one went to the Salarians. I haven't decided yet, yeah. Maybe I'll decide now.
"Sounds interesting, especially since I haven't agreed yet."
Benezia wasn't finished.
"You should also remember that the Turians are a dextro-amino acid species. Building logistics just for you isn't very profitable for them. Your crew will likely not have a very diverse diet, and any food familiar to you will be imported from Asari worlds. Or, you will have access to Asari cuisine, with conditions and dishes more familiar to you."
Now that's a low blow. Cook Gardner, until he got supplies with John's help, cooked terribly. And one must assume Turian military cooks don't have the necessary skills and might not even have the ingredients. It would be miserable. Liara smirked.
"It seems you've been bought, Joker."
Well, yeah. Young Asari maidens, normal food. The chance to pilot a combat ship instead of being on the bench. Back in the day, the Illusive Man used exactly that to get me behind the stick of the second SSV Normandy.
"Yeah, I'm definitely in."
After that, everything was quick and simple. Benezia was in no hurry and allowed us to collect our things. There, Tali informed me they were ready; Javik would cover her if anything happened, and the Quarian herself was no longer the naive girl she was in that bar—what was it called? I don't remember. Doesn't matter. Leaving still felt like a betrayal of the team. But, if you think about it, it really is a good option. I think Liara will cover for me.
***
The Batarian Ambassador successfully hid his irritation. In the situation with the guests, the Council had sidelined everyone except their own precious selves. Information about where these newcomers came from was classified. The Council seemed to have decided to keep the technology for themselves, as well as the guests.
The Administrator and his advisors would be displeased. So many C-Sec members were hanging around the ship that getting anything more than photos was impossible. Attempts had been made. They say someone managed to snatch some equipment from the ship right under C-Sec's nose, and patrols had been doubled since then. But the High Administrator doesn't care about excuses. If the agents of the oligarchy manage to get information that the Ambassador himself cannot find, he will cease to be Ambassador, and that's the best-case scenario. Which means he must act himself. The head of security and, concurrently, the head of the contact network, was waiting right in the office. He too would be in the line of fire if anything went wrong, which he knew and worked conscientiously. Looking at his subordinate with all four eyes, the Ambassador said with exaggerated calmness:
"Tell me we have good news."
The subordinate blinked all his eyes in turn and nodded.
"We have good news. A Quarian from among the guests and an unknown xeno will board a ship to Omega. I'm waiting for confirmation, but I have the ship's name and route. They can be captured in the Terminus Systems."
Oh yes! A suit from the alien team—that's excellent! Quarians are very resourceful, and even if she says nothing, which is unlikely, much can be extracted from her omni-tool. And an unknown xeno—he can be gifted to the ruler. A unique gift, exactly what's needed to confirm status. Excellent, excellent!
"How quickly can you organize an intercept? Do it."
It's his job to solve problems. Let him work; he's not in this position for nothing. Meanwhile, options for how best to frame this are racing through his head. There will be no problems with the intercept. A ship in flight or on Omega—they disappear often there. Especially suits. Engineers are expensive and needed by everyone, including gangs. One Quarian more, one Quarian less—no one will notice. Or she returned to her own, and then who can prove what? With the Quarian, there's no need to hold back; there are many suits, and they need information. The Ambassador looked at the photo of the four-eyed xeno. Unlike the Batarian, this one's four eyes are located on a horizontally elongated head. Looks more like an insect. No one has slaves like that for sure. And if he knows something, it'll be even better.
"Take this one carefully. I've never seen anything like it. The High Administrator will appreciate it. We shouldn't spoil the gift."
The head of security nodded but said nothing more. It seemed he had already given the order but didn't interrupt his boss—smart.
"The Salarians have contacted us, Ambassador," he said suddenly, looking at his omni-tool.
The Batarian looked at his subordinate with displeasure.
"And what do they want?"
It's clear that if it's Salarians, it means their STG or a Dalatress. Not necessarily in person, but an approach to the Ambassador is definitely coordinated. The Council can threaten and express concern all they want. But the fact is that everyone in Citadel Space has their place and their enemies. Turians march in formation and command dreadnoughts. The economic system revolves around the Volus. Asari are diplomats. Quarians supply the space with skilled mechanics, voluntarily or not so much.
Far from every suit returns from their "pilgrimage," and the Batarians put far less effort into this than people say. There are enough who get used to it and for whom it's simply convenient to live that way. Aria on Omega surely answers to the Asari Matriarchs, if she isn't part of them. Everyone is in their place. But the Batarians are evil, of course.
If Salarians contact you, these clever individuals either need a diversion or they want someone to disappear. For a fee, of course. If the citizens of the Space knew how often their leaders pay so that some of their residents end up in the hospitable slave training centers of the Hegemony. Thinking about this, the Ambassador turned on the message. Well, look at that, the Salarian Councilor himself. Who is he selling out this time? He speaks very fast, but that's normal for Salarians:
"Councilor, it is good that you received the message. According to my information, the Turian Hierarchy is planning to move additional forces to Relay 314. And according to my data, the logistics route will pass through the outskirts of the Terminus Systems. I strongly demand that these ships successfully reach their destination while the logistics chain is being established. You will have problems with the Council if otherwise occurs."
And he disconnected. The Ambassador almost laughed. This wasn't the first such message. Which means the guests live beyond 314, which will be guarded by Hierarchy forces. And clearly significant forces, if additional logistics are required. It seems the Turians fear someone will activate the relay to reach their neighbors. And the Salarians want to pull something off under their noses. A diversion for a reward. Excellent. The Ambassador and his head of security exchanged a knowing look.
"Shall we forward it to the Hierarchy or participate, boss?"
An interesting question. Of course, the Turians will pay for information; they always pay. But...
"If the Salarians punch a hole through to the newcomers or activate the relays, opportunities will arise. And opportunities are good. We can hire the 'Blood Pack'; they don't mind raiding Turian transports."
The core of the Blood Pack is Krogan, who actively dislike both Turians and Salarians. Everyone is in their place.
"And eat everything they find there," the subordinate smirked.
It's not that he's wrong. The Blood Pack, especially the Vorcha in it, aren't picky about much if it's even theoretically edible. Of course, everything must be organized so that the trail doesn't lead back to the Batarian Hegemony. And prepare for the consequences, of course. We need to participate in time.
"Handle the hiring. If the trail doesn't lead to us, everything is fine. But this is Terminus, and the Hierarchy isn't welcome there."
"That will be easy," the head of security agreed, "In Terminus, they don't like lawmen. That's for sure."
***
Tali'Zorah.
I, Javik, and EDI settled into one compartment of a small transport. It's hardest for Javik, with his ability to perceive the environment in a wider range. So he constantly sits in the compartment with his hands in water and waits. In that sense, it's much easier for me and EDI, who was connected to the ship's systems. I hadn't thought about it, but for Javik, we are both very good companions. EDI is a machine and simply leaves no imprints visible to Javik. I have a suit, and if I'm careful, no traces remain either.
For now, we share one cabin, as the ship is quite small. But I'm used to it. The flight to Omega will take four days. The ship isn't the newest or the fastest, and it's taking a detour. Why Omega? It's quite close to the Migrant Fleet from there; pilgrims are often dropped off and picked up there. The Fleet also conducts trade deals on Omega. It's the easiest place to get home from without a current password or a ship. That's all. And it's easiest to get lost on Omega. So we fly. For a small fee, I help with current repairs; the rest of the time, I look at what EDI sent me and think about what I'll say to the Board of Admiralty.
"I'm not sure my father will listen to me."
EDI turned her head to me and noted:
"Rael'Zorah has not even gone on his Pilgrimage yet at this moment, Tali'Zorah. I do not think you should worry about that."
Oh, I hadn't thought of that. He really is only a few years old. A teenager who hasn't even met my mother. That will be funny; I'm older than him.
"It's hard to imagine my father as a child, EDI."
"I likely understand," the AI agreed, "I have noted that organics incorrectly perceive age-related changes, even though they constantly go through them."
I exhaled. Well, yeah, you don't change. I need to try to explain.
"Well, it's just that I never knew him any other way. A Captain, then an Admiral of the heavy Fleet. He was always, well, a father. And perceiving a guy who will be younger than me as my own father is difficult."
EDI thought for a moment and nodded.
"I understand."
Unexpectedly, Javik spoke.
"We were originally prepared for the confrontation with the Reapers. Taught to hide, then to fight. To know which commands to follow, to be ready to run on order. Family is your squad, with whom you will die in battle. We were taught to recognize the indoctrinated. They might try to lead children to where we would be found and killed. That happened. Knowing when someone is trying to set you up was mandatory if you wanted to survive. But the lessons about the past were important. Teachers showed us the greatness of the empire, our cities. What the Prothean Empire was like before the Reapers. Memories kept in mind and passed from elders to youngsters. So that we would remember what we were fighting for."
I wondered what to say. Obviously, Javik doesn't need sympathy. But still, he chose to share this story. So I asked:
"Do you remember it too? Now?"
Javik looked at me.
"I remember."
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me.
"You know, you're currently lying in a stasis pod on Eden Prime. Well, your past self. So in theory, we could have two of you. Though, you're both men."
"Still too few to revive the Empire," Javik noted, "but he deserves vengeance."
The Prothean's monologue was interrupted by the vibration of the deck and a message over the intercom:
"A Batarian frigate is approaching us. Trying to break away. But you'd better get ready; they're fast."
I sighed. The transport we're on is quite small. A cockpit, four cabins, and a small hold for a few containers. A standard private cargo ship that can carry both freight and pirates with freight. You can put guns on it. In general, a universal cheap vessel that can do little even against the lightest combat ships.
"We won't be able to break away. If it really is a frigate, it has an accelerator and aviation. They won't let us go."
By the time the pilot said:
"They're threatening to blow us apart if we don't stop. We couldn't break away. From here on, everyone's on their own."
We were already armed and ready. Shields, armor, weapons. My shotgun, Javik's beam emitter, and EDI's pistols. I summoned a drone on the go for reconnaissance.
"Forward."
A huge Krogan with a shotgun tumbled out of the compartment across from us. Purple armor decorated with patterns. A scarred face. A hulk three times my size. A typical Krogan on a stroll.
"Oh, decided the Batarians are overstepping too? That's right," he brandished a massive Krogan shotgun, "ha!"
We exchanged looks and agreed. The pilots jumped out from the side with assault rifles, a Turian and a Salarian.
"How far are they?" The Turian clicked his mandibles.
"Three minutes. A Salkiyon-class frigate, the newest toy among pirates, possibly military. You guys really don't like someone."
We remained silent, while the Krogan laughed, helping to make a barricade of crates at the entrance.
"Tough bastards, eh? Batarian pirates on combat ships don't chase just anyone. Though this is Terminus; everyone here wants to be a little god with a fleet."
Hard to argue. Even in our time, Terminus is full of all sorts. And the largest ships are usually frigates. Up to forty crew and marines—a raiding machine. Designed for exterminating small ships, which usually skimp on everything. And there are only six of us here. What are the chances? The three of us are quite good. In the battles with the Reapers, John didn't skimp on the crew; he upgraded armor and weapons to the max. Javik with his emitter, me with a shotgun and a submachine gun, EDI too. An unknown Krogan in unknown armor with a heavy shotgun and two crew members in light armor with assault rifles. Not much.
Against us are two or three dozen Batarian raiders in light or medium armor, one must assume. A bit much.
"We'll attack, otherwise they'll just crush us," the Krogan concluded, "I'm Urriv of Clan Garatog, by the way."
We introduced ourselves. Maybe the Krogan isn't an acquaintance, but now we all have to fight the Batarians together. I hope he's at least half as good as Wrex. Otherwise, we'll all lie here.
"Docking now. May the spirits help us," the Turian exhaled.
The Krogan snorted; we exchanged looks. Not the first time—if we strike fast and hard, we have better weapons and protection; we are a coordinated trio that went through the Reapers. We'll manage. The ship shuddered; they docked with us. The Krogan, with a wide grin, pressed against the door, listened, and waved for us to take cover. He himself snatched a grenade and got ready, pressing against the wall near the airlock. Javik and I took positions in the corners behind crates, ready to cover the passage with crossfire. EDI and the pilots took positions in the middle.
"They're there," the giant said with satisfaction, almost in a whisper, "it's about to start."
The door burst open and grenades flew into it, and back out too. The first shots rang out. They don't look like military, more like mercenaries. Too inconsistently armed; Batarians do pay their military, after all. One of the attackers shouted:
"Surrender and you will live!"
We answered with fire, pinning the Batarians down and seemingly wounding one or two.
"How do you like the buckshot, Bosh'tet? Like the answer?"
From the other side came a string of curses that the translator refused to comment on. The Krogan leaped from cover, preventing a grenade from flying straight to us with his tailed bulk, and immediately vanished, blowing the head off one of the four-eyed ones with a precise shot.
"Who taught you to shoot, you pathetic things?"
There was almost no return fire; the Batarians were too busy evacuating away from the grenade. When the Krogan hid behind the door frame again, we started shooting, and I sent out a drone. Three explosions thundered; screams rang out.
"Now you're dead, you nobodies!" they screamed from the other side, over the moans and cries, "I'll feed you to the Varren and shit in your skulls!"
Ugh! That's disgusting. Javik responded by firing his emitter, burning through the head of one of the peeking Batarians. My drone flushed another one out of cover. A couple of shots and that four-eyed one was dead too.
"RRRRRRRRAR!" the Krogan roared, knocking a third off his feet and firing his shotgun to the side as the guy slid down the wall, "Forward! Forward! For Tuchanka! Hahahhahah!"
Grabbing the head of the slumped Batarian, the Krogan slammed his nape against the wall. Judging by the crunch, he won't be getting up.
"Forward!" Javik ordered, and we moved; the crew stayed behind.
Well, whatever, they aren't our subordinates. We rushed into the attack before the enemy could dig in. We took no prisoners, though some of the killed were clearly crew, hastily armed. Narrow corridors are very convenient for an experienced SSV Normandy shock trooper squad. Experience. The ship shuddered again. EDI noted:
"The crew of our transport is trying to flee. I had to conduct a viral attack to preserve the cargo."
Including EDI herself and our remaining equipment. It wouldn't be good if they escaped. The Krogan, who was having a lot of fun watching our shotguns and emitter tear through the Hegemony pirates, remarked:
"Who cares! We'll take our gear and fly on this! Can you pilot?"
EDI nodded.
"I am a pilot."
Well, that's a good decision. With the ship, it'll be easier to reach the Migrant Fleet. We won't be able to use it normally, but with EDI's help and me as an engineer, we'll make it somehow. And there, we'll gift the ship, pay the Krogan, and go our separate ways. It'll be difficult, but I'm ready to try.
"Let's throw these Bosh'tets off our new ship," I suggested, "lead the way, Urriv."
The others from our group gave me a strange look. John is a bad influence on me, probably. We dashed forward, killing the enemy.
***
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