"Desolation, destruction, death. This is what I bring everywhere I go. Ten stormtroopers, a hundred, a thousand… the number doesn't matter. Faceless, futureless, replaceable – they are all the same to me," I recalled the echoes of the past, thundering in my head.
Before, I knew no other life than violence and ruthlessness towards the enemies of the Galactic Empire. I served as an assassin under the supervision of Darth Vader, who killed my father only to replace him with himself and his ideology. Anger and cold hatred were always his traits, which he tried his utmost to instill in me, pursuing only his own ambitions. He promised that we would overthrow Emperor Palpatine together, that I would take his place, and he – his master's. Well, for the Sith, betrayal is akin to breathing. I learned this too late, having already stained my hands with the blood of Jedi, clones, and ordinary people.
Do I regret it? Am I remorseful? No. At the end of my path, I defeated Vader and Palpatine. But I succumbed to the influence of the Light Side, made the wrong choice, mistook mercy for the only true path. This fatal mistake cost not only my life; my enemies are still breathing, but they don't have long left to taint the air with their existence.
The Force granted me a second chance. I was reborn in another galaxy, from where I plan to build up my power to return to the starting point, where I will make a completely different choice: if I hadn't rushed to help the hostages then, but had finished off Vader, and after him, Palpatine, everything would have been different.
The past taught me two things: absolute evil leads to inevitable collapse, and virtue leads to it twice as fast. A balance must be maintained. One Sith managed it – Darth Revan. He achieved success by restraining the Dark and Light sides of the Force, not letting one of them overcome him. And though I only know of him through legends, and in reality, things in his life could have been different... However, the closer to collapse, the more reliably you cling to someone else's success in the hope of repeating it.
I don't admire his atrocities or his virtues, his victories or his defeats. In people like him, it's their approach to the matter that attracts. Paying him respect, here in this new habitat, I honored his memory by commissioning armor from the time of the Mandalorian Wars and a dark cloak with high resistance to heat and cold, based on my own blueprints. It cost a lot of credits, but I have more than enough thanks to my chosen path: righteous violence.
Born on Earth in 2160, I arrived at a significant moment for humanity – the year the Systems Alliance was founded. This organization promotes humanity's interests on the intergalactic stage. Within five years, it managed to push its candidacy onto the Citadel Council – the highest governing body among all systems, and then began to build its influence. They needed soldiers: thousands, millions, billions. Anyone could dedicate their life to the military craft, but only the best of the best flew beyond Earth. And after that, it was a matter of luck: some were assigned to human colonies, others were sent to resolve minor skirmishes with criminal or terrorist organizations.
I was lucky to be among the "others." Among them, it was easiest to climb the ladder to a decent life, where you don't have to wonder if you have enough credits for equipment upgrades.
I didn't buy weapons. In this life, the Force has not passed me by either, to the exact same extent as in the last. With its help, using Sith techniques, I created synthetic crystals for lightsabers, and then the sabers themselves. Red – in it is gathered all the malice from my defeat. Purple – it leaves the Light only the right to exist alongside the Dark. I use one for killing, the other – for measured decisions. Sometimes both, when there are many enemies, and just as many decisions related to them. This happens often. In any galaxy, one thing is constant: all living beings carve a path to the future through war.
There are several sentient races in the galaxy, and our relations with them are developing with mixed success due to the bloody First Contact and current disagreements. Even so, there are still Cerberus and the Systems Alliance Armed Forces, which are at each other's throats both on their home planet and beyond it. We humans are few in number compared to other races, but even so, we manage to find the strength for internal conflicts within the same cage.
Because of their confrontation, I refused the N7 elite soldier training program and a further career in the military. Everything was heading towards one side potentially directing me to destroy the other. If Cerberus acts from a position of defense, based on the ideology of human supremacy, then the Alliance acts as the sword in this matter. They strive to destroy the only thing advancing science and humanity by all available methods.
Yes, in many ways, Cerberus representatives resemble a miniature Galactic Empire, but it is necessary. Without it, humanity will never advance "Mass Effect" research for traveling the universe. And won't get to the place I so desperately need, where I can fix everything. For this, I am willing to go to great lengths.
Juno's face flashed before my eyes. She allowed me to see the world more broadly, to know that in life, besides hatred, there is also love. Everything could have been different, and we could have been together, if not for my choice before death.
However, her image in my memory has almost faded over two decades. Once, she was an additional incentive to reach my goal, but now she has been supplanted by the hatred growing with each year, burning my soul and creating the fuel that feeds my desire to move forward. Without stopping. Until I find at least a straw, a thread, that will lead to the development of a deep space flight program.
At almost any cost... I must return as a human.
— We've arrived, - Amanda Fowlen pulled me from my thoughts. She was excellent at piloting the assault shuttle, which was used for discreet landings of small squads. In other respects, Amanda was useless for my current trade, as she didn't know how to fight. — The space station Omega, better known as the asteroid sewer. Outcasts, drug dealers, slavers, arms dealers, opposition to the Citadel Council... Who hasn't gathered here, flocking to the rich deposits of element zero and metals. Oh yes, also archaeologists and fans of ancient civilizations. So many different people have settled an ordinary floating piece of rock – it's hard to believe.
As far as I know, when space on the asteroid's surface ran out, the sentients began to build upwards, which is why Omega took on the shape of a jellyfish. Perhaps even ordinary tourists might stop by here, to see something unique before dying at the hands of the local inhabitants.
Soon, we were on the station. The shuttle doors opened, and before I had even taken a couple of steps, a turian approached me. These creatures resemble reptiles. They have an external exoskeleton, similar to a beetle's carapace, but at the same time, they strongly resemble humans. Mostly, turians engage in security or warfare, honor, and are dangerous opponents. I've killed hundreds, remembering more than a third of them. That's the best record among all the Citadel races.
— Aria wants to see you, - the Pirate Queen deigned to send me a guide. One can feel the care of the local empress. Speaking of Aria T'Loak, it's worth highlighting her reputation as a dangerous information broker. Rumor has it she has some Council members on her payroll, so they turn a blind eye to her antics. Quite possible. Rumors don't just spring from nowhere.
Nodding, I allowed him to escort me to the "Afterlife" club. I didn't particularly want to argue. On the way to the club, I managed to notice several small-batch drug deals, a couple of bloody fights, and a threat to blow someone's brains out with a pistol. Weapons in the Milky Way haven't yet reached the level of lasers, which would be more effective in space battles. On the other hand, this fact makes it difficult for me. It's easier to deflect a couple of laser bolts with a lightsaber than to deflect three bursts from an assault rifle. For now, "Force Shield," "Telekinesis," "Bulletproof Armor," and "Superhuman Speed" save me. Sometimes I have to combine all of them.
In my past life, the famous "accuracy" of the stormtroopers also helped.
And Star Destroyers at hand...
It was glorious.
— No questions at all? - the turian asked as we approached the club. — I spent two hours waiting for you, thinking up answers. Who are you? How do you know I'm waiting? Aria, first time I'm hearing it! Is she the local boss? A turian working as security for a criminal?! Where's your pride? Why is everything on Omega so dirty? And why do they sell weapons to kids here, who then shoot street vendors of red sand for a fix for their mother? Not a single question? Respectable. Aria wasn't wrong when she said one must be as careful with your person as with a drunk krogan. Look away, and he'll have you for a snack. I've also heard that the most dangerous person in the room is the quietest one.
Aria had ordered him to gather information about me on the way. After all, it's not just what we answer that says a lot about our personality; questions define it no less significantly. It's easy to give away secrets during a dialogue. He will pass them to Aria, she will praise him and give him... what do beetles eat? A rotten apple to chew on. If he returns without information, he will be punished.
The reason I'm thinking this, but not saying it, is simple: revealing that you've figured out the other party's intentions will also work for the turian's piggy bank. And I have no intention of helping him. His job doesn't concern me; I have my own: to find the last surviving batarians who survived the purge during the "Theshaca Raids."
The Alliance tracked pirate ships, destroyed them along with their loading and unloading bases, thereby reducing the threat from radically-minded batarians. However, a couple of their leaders remained stuck in the leadership's throat, like a bone. One of them, according to intelligence, is hiding on Omega. I was offered a contract for his elimination in exchange for valuable materials to create... PROXY.
For several years now, I've been trying to recreate an artificial intelligence and a suitable body for a robot that will have one task – to try to kill me by all available methods. Thanks to this, I will never lose my form; moreover, I will become stronger. Just like before.
— Welcome to Afterlife! Like it? - the turian pointed to a dancing asari. Besides their blue skin, what distinguishes them from us is their thousand-year lifespan, their ability to give birth only to daughters of their own race, and a penchant for selling their bodies. — Alright, alright, small fry, I get it, disappointed, but I accept it.
He escorted me to the second floor, asked me to wait, and five minutes later, I was standing before the local manager. An asari. But not the one dancing a striptease. Dangerous, possibly the strongest biotic I've ever met.
In this Galaxy, there are no Force-users. No one knows how or wants to control it. Instead, there is biotic energy – its substitute. It includes telekinesis, control over groups of enemies, and much more. You can even simulate a black hole – that's saying a lot, but some properties match.
— The tour of the local slums is so inspiring it leaves one speechless. Isn't it? - her voice sounded arrogant, and the gesture offering me a seat was almost a mockery. I refused, continuing to assess her approximate power. Theoretically, she is capable of killing everyone in this club, where cheap music was blaring, of no better quality than the local bar.
— I'm looking for a batarian known as "Sand." He used to bring slaves to a desert planet, which is how he got the nickname. He's hiding in your territory, - I briefly stated the essence of the matter.
— Hmm... Even if he is, why should I tell you about his hideout? Or do I look like a ventilation pipe, sucking in and spitting out information?
— For the sake of a sound financial decision. I won't leave until I find him. And kicking me out is a problematic task, even for someone who hides her powers from her subordinates because of their frightening volume, - I replied. After my words, the security thinned out noticeably – she dismissed them, memorizing each of their faces. At least someone will remember them after their deaths, which will come by morning.
— I don't know what power you're talking about. Nor how the decision will be sound and promising profit. Or do you want to bribe me?
— You should do it for me.
— Remember, on Omega, I am the president, the queen, the god, and the first among the first. Everyone owes only me; I owe no one. Because Omega and I are one and the same.
— For it to stay that way, you need to maintain order. After our conversation, I will visit the leaders of the factions with the same question. And the number of their subordinates will significantly decrease. Their forces are your forces. Consequently, the influential factions will become less useful, will bring in fewer credits. Fewer of them means less order. This is not sound. This is not profitable.
— There are bounties on your head from various corporations. Especially those interested in the mutations of your biotic field. There's no data on you, you don't even have implants from which anything can be read, and you've hypnotized and brainwashed medical commission representatives. And I, instead of trying to make good money, decided to meet you halfway. What do I get in return? You found out about my biotic capabilities, disclosed them in front of those I will have to eliminate. You threaten chaos in my home. And you even refused the elementary courtesy – to sit next to me.
I remained silent, trying not to waste time on empty clarifications. If she didn't have so much biotic power, I would have hypnotized her long ago and gone about my business. However, I was forced to listen to her royal nonsense. It was stressful, making everything inside me boil with the desire to strike with lightning at full power, burning not just the body, but the spirit.
It's hard to restrain such impulses, but every time I look in the mirror and see Revan's armor, I remember the importance of self-control. She was lucky I didn't start chopping from the shoulder because of my creed.
She smirked, then clapped her hand loudly. An empty gesture – the cameras near us registered the visual signal anyway. The only question is, what does it relate to? A minute later, a bound batarian with a gag in his mouth was dragged to us. Two pairs of eyes, three nostrils, the disgusting face of a bat. I wouldn't be so categorical in my disgust if the batarians weren't such strong xenophobes. And I always try to respond to evil with a greater evil, one that crushes the petty like an insect.
— The one you're looking for. My gift, for which I expect a gesture in return. You didn't have to go to sector fourteen, search through filth and dumpsters for the passage leading to his hideout. I saved you days of work that could have turned into a complete failure. Like a rat, he could have fled from you to another planet. My people only managed to catch him at the spaceport.
— It's not in my nature to be led by "what ifs."
— Therefore, I offer a generous reward, as well as a unique opportunity to meet my... business partner, for that matter. Go to Thessia, you will be met and shown the way to the target. All that is required of you is to leave no one and nothing behind.
— Motive?
— Red sand. Some brave idiots started working in my territory, forgetting the importance of sharing in such hard times. Your target is simple sand producers who are out of control. They are hiding under the guise of a pharmaceutical company, covered by the Thessian government, so I can't even send a squad of my people. I can only cordon off the territory for half an hour, giving you the opportunity to sort it out without the risk of an intergalactic wanted notice.
— Personnel?
— Full automation, no accidental casualties, - she rolled her eyes, as if this point shouldn't have concerned me. — The security is armed to the teeth, and the factory has a solid foundation, strong walls, and equipment with an energy field. Neither they nor the others should remain. Raze the place to the ground, giving the production no chance to be reborn. They will never recoup the equipment, worth millions of credits, with what they earn from the remnants. In return, you will receive new opportunities, and you will also be able to take what you are given without a twinge of conscience.
She nodded at the batarian. His mouth was tightly bound, so, with a flick of my finger, I ripped out the gag and asked a few questions. Before that, of course, I passed my hand in front of his eyes and put him into a state close to a trance.
— Are you the one known as Sand? - I asked.
— Yes... - he delivered, devoid of emotion.
— Name those who are still alive and hold a position equal to yours.
He remained silent.
— Are they all dead?
— Yes...
— For the ability to get the truth and only the truth, I would give half of my fortune, only to multiply the remainder a hundredfold in just a year, - Aria shook her head. — And you, with such abilities, just roam the world. May I know the reason? Credits? The reputation of the Star Killer? I'll only believe that after a krogan tincture. To use your words. What's the motive?
— Stagnation is stagnation, - I replied, omitting the limitations of my Force.
You can put a victim into hypnosis, but they will never be loyal to you. They will quickly come out of the trance and remember the details of the conversation. You can only control one at a time, and all influential figures are surrounded by a pack of pawns or equals in power. You can't bend the galaxy to your will with hypnosis alone, otherwise Palpatine would have turned the members of the Senate into mere slaves and puppets back in the Republic. No, conquest comes through subtle influence and precise strikes on vulnerable spots. For now, it's enough for me to improve my skills so that, when the opportunity arises, I can tightly grip the Council by the throat and impose my will – the ambition to conquer deep space.
2183... During my meditations, I saw the future, that darkness would begin to gather in this very year, enveloping planets and civilizations, turning them into nothing. In such a time, the influence that Aria T'Loak clings to will become a joke. Those to whom the Queen of Omega promised mountains of gold in exchange for support will flock to the strongest in hard times, offering their very selves in return.
— As you wish. If your legs get tired of running around, Omega's doors are always open for you.
Perhaps I'll visit again.
Already heading for the exit of her VIP-zone, I heard a loud question:
— Aren't you supposed to kill the batarian?! Or are you suggesting I clean up after you here too?
She's right. I was counting on help with cleaning, not a life, but a body.
Silently raising my palm, I sharply clenched it into a fist, instantly enveloping the batarian's body in a shroud of the Force. It settled on him easily, crushing him in an instant, like parchment.
Too much blood spurted out due to the pressure, and a few drops almost reached me. Fortunately, I know how to move away from risky zones in time, so as not to strain myself creating a Force Shield for such a trifle.
— My favorite suit! - she snarled, seeming to cut through the club music. — What are you standing there for?! Clean this filth out of my club!