The flight to Omega went fine. We reached the Tortuga station in the Contact system on a modified transport from Earth. The station had somehow grown on its own from just a weapon platform into a full-fledged outpost for ships coming and going through the Mass Relays.
Stealth frigates and Geth ships arrive in the system, unload, are serviced, and depart toward the Mass Relay. And from the Earth side, cargo is distributed by ships with the Shaw-Fujikawa drive. That's what we did. We boarded a stealth frigate, which headed toward Omega through the Mass Relays.
The team is standard. Me in the form of the combat Avatar, Drack, Tali, Javik, and some Geth for good measure. Yalorae is busy somewhere; that insectoid isn't kept in the rear either, but he isn't required for this operation.
Right now, our current task is to pick up Rael'Zorah from Omega. Battles have been going on at the station for four days now; thanks to The Possessed, I know about this firsthand. As modeled, with the departure and evacuation of corporate forces from the station, things became very difficult for the locals. The hangars were lost, the trade district is still being held, but resistance in the wealthy districts has been mostly suppressed, and even the mines in the "cap" are partially lost. Partially, because far from everyone was able to leave. According to forecasts, five more days and Omega will completely pass under the control of Covenant acolytes. But agitation for joining the new faith is being conducted even now.
Covenant preachers are coming to the occupied territories. Not just Hanar, whom many treat quite condescendingly, but full-fledged ones from the Covenant races, trained religious preachers. Rumor has it even a San'Shyuum appeared. Likely one of the lower-ranking priests, but still. They have clearly taken the matter seriously.
Active processing of the population has begun. Multi-hour sermons over the station's general channel, patrols requiring the retelling of sermons under threat of punishment and punishing those who are in no hurry to attend these events. Explanatory work is being done with them, and in case of resistance, more active measures are taken. Searches and checks, interrogations. Some are found murdered at "circles of sin," places where sins for which someone was killed are painted on the walls. In the Covenant language, of course.
The first version of a "vice squad" has formed.
While the races of the greater galaxy operate in the front-line area, Jackals along with Vorcha are working hard in the rear. Both races have found they work perfectly together, looting and eating everything they can. And everyone, yes. The bodies didn't go from the streets into recyclers at all, but moved into refrigerators; I checked. But that is secondary; it won't be needed for infiltration.
So, we arrived; the stealth frigate stopped at the edge of the system, and we boarded a Pelican. Omega's sensor system is extremely good and sensitive; I had to run robots through tunnels and towers just to burn it out too. This new emitter on super-saturated hydrogen is simply beyond...
zen in the matters of electronics disposal. But one way or another, Omega lost some of its sensors, and the group gained a pass to the station.
What followed was a standard landing party insertion via Pelican. The pilot flies the craft; we sit in the troop bay, watching the world outside through the ship's external cameras.
"I really like these atmospheric shields," the pilot said, flying into the city. "Fly in, fly out, no one notices. No control whatsoever."
I snorted at the remark, making the pilot flinch.
"The station had a good sensor system, specifically for wise guys like you. That was before our saboteurs had their fun clearing a path for us. So say thank you to intelligence and keep flying. We shouldn't linger; the Covenant will soon realize who's come to visit. It would be nice to leave 'the English way' by then—quietly, without saying goodbye to anyone."
The pilot nodded.
"Roger that. Where to?"
I pulled up a map where a point marked itself automatically via the link.
"Over there, the six towers of the trade district. Our target is five blocks away from them. Set down further back, right here, in the alley. Everything's prepared there to attract as little attention as possible."
Tali leaned into the Pelican's cockpit and looked out directly through the windshield. Externally, Omega doesn't bear many traces of fighting throughout the city. There are marks of ship-caliber weapons in a couple of places; Afterlife has been turned into ruins, and fires burn in several spots. But otherwise, the station looks relatively intact.
Closer to the trade district, however, there are numerous signs of a siege. One of the towers has collapsed; a ship lies embedded in the trade district, and extensive destruction is visible even from our altitude and distance. They hit it with everything they had, though not with Covenant weapons—even with the image magnified, there are no characteristic plasma burns. Large caliber, obviously. Tali looked around, peered through the side window, and concluded:
"When Cerberus captured Omega in our time, there was less destruction."
Drack, looking at the camera feed, grunted.
"Dug in well. Won't be easy to kick them out; plenty of food. They'll keep fighting. We aren't landing there, are we?"
I snorted.
"No, of course not. They'd shoot down or hijack the Pelican. We'll drop ten blocks away, so we'll have to run a bit. Everything that isn't our Quarian or the agents—respond according to the situation. Tali, ready to meet your father?"
She sighed. Although she knew about her father, a meeting hadn't been arranged for her. They didn't see it as necessary, apparently; I just know the meeting never happened. The Quarian took a deep breath, her suit's filter creating a funny whistling-hissing sound.
"I'm not ready. And he won't recognize me anyway. Tali hasn't even been born for him yet."
Drack, unexpectedly, said quite calmly:
"Maybe your father doesn't remember you, but you remember and are glad he's alive. That's what matters. My girls are always glad to see me, even if they'll never admit it. Krogan," his tone made it clear he was smirking, proud of his children.
"Well, I'd be proud of a grandfather like that too," the Avatar replied, prompted by the social module, which elicited a toothy grin. But it was clear Drack appreciated it.
The ship came in for a landing a few blocks from the trade district between buildings. A squad of soldiers and Javik immediately began camouflaging the craft with a special tarp, which the Prothean stretched over the vehicle using his "magic." Now, from above, it looks like a pile of trash, and from the street, if you don't look closely, you wouldn't recognize it as a ship either. We were likely spotted; guests should be expected soon, and the Pelican is needed for evacuation. So Javik will stay here with the Geth, while Drack, Tali, and I moved into the city.
"It's quiet here," the Quarian said, clearly nervous. "These streets used to be full of sapient beings of all kinds. Pirates, criminals, smugglers, Traders. The Migrant Fleet bought half the parts we couldn't produce ourselves right here. And now it's empty."
And that was a fact. Sapients are staying in their homes, trying not to go out unless necessary. So the streets are somewhat empty; rare passersby stick to the shadows and the edges of the streets. Thanks to the Batarian-Possessed, I have a map and I know that the sapients aren't just sitting at home; they're mostly moving through tunnels and underground passages where there's less chance of catching a bullet.
Gang wars are nothing new for Omega, and the safety rules are known to everyone. Mercenaries don't show up in the tunnels—too many directions for a surprise attack. The battles are for the wealthy city and the "cap" where everything valuable is located. Down below, closer to the void-dwellers, it's actually safer at a time like this than in the "upper city."
So, with high probability, anyone we meet here will be hostile or will try to stay away. For example, we came across a checkpoint where five Vorcha and two Krogan were found. The street was blocked by cars, and a primitive gate with a barrier had been made, where the Krogan stood; the Vorcha were just crawling around, looting nearby shops. The symbols of the Blood Pack and The Covenant were on the walls.
The movement started simultaneously: Drack and I rushed forward, gripping our hammers; Tali struck with Overload, sending the weapons of our enemies at the checkpoint into overheat. The Vorcha with primitive assault rifles were at risk of hitting their own, for which their commanders might kill them, and the Krogan themselves rushed into melee, completely blocking the line of fire for their allies. And no one even thought to raise the alarm.
Tali switched to the Vorcha, peppering them with explosive rounds from her Magnum and forcing them to "scatter their brains." My Krogan blocked a Gravity Hammer blow with a Shotgun instead of a club. I could activate a wave, or I could answer with a mighty kick to the Krogan's stomach, sending the lizard crashing onto his back. This body in armor is two hundred kilograms heavier than my opponent. And while the lizard was down, I brought the hammer down.
"You don't hit a man when he's down; you finish him," I said cheerfully, wrenching the Gravity Hammer blade out of the Krogan's head.
Next, we switched to firearms and quickly shot the remaining Vorcha. Without armor, they clearly lacked someone to draw fire, preventing aimed shots to the head. Even they can't regrow new brains.
"Is it normal that we killed these patrollers?" Tali asked. "We're supposed to be infiltrating stealthily. Or so I thought."
I waved it off.
"I don't know how it was with Shepard, but 'stealthy infiltration' and three soldiers, two of them in heavy armor, don't mix well."
She shrugged.
"Well, since there are no witnesses, we are acting stealthily. I'm still right," the Quarian joked, to our chuckles.
Nearby, Drack was cleaning a long knife he had pulled from an opponent's neck. The Vorcha were finished too, and our squad moved on.
"And where will we find Rael'Zorah?" the Quarian asked, hiding her agitation as we walked further.
I pointed to a residential building at the end of the street.
"He's working there as a technician. The firm is closed now, but technicians are still needed. Someone has to maintain the infrastructure. Even when there's fighting all around," I flicked an ear at the sound of a firefight. The conflict isn't over yet, far from it. "Especially since buildings like that, with full hermetic sealing, are quite safe."
We reached the destination without incident. Omega is big, after all—too big to control every meter of the station, especially when many are against your presence. A pile of Vorcha corpses lies at the exit of a former restaurant; they were likely killed while trying to loot. Whether The Covenant did it or the locals doesn't matter. What matters is that discipline isn't their strong suit, so there are huge holes in territorial control. Holes that the locals, both honest and not-so-honest, actively use. And we're just going where we need to.
In any case, we stopped in front of the door of the required house. The door was good, massive, a couple of centimeters of high-quality metal; you could tell the house wasn't cheap. I rang via the terminal. It lit up, showing us a Salarian in an expensive doorman's suit. He looked at our far-from-peaceful faces (I had taken off my mask for the occasion), and the terminal went dark. They didn't even answer the second time.
"So, how are we getting in?" Tali clarified. "I can help with the Hack, but it'll take a bit of time."
I waved it off.
"There are metal pins on the other side of the door. Specifically for the event of a hack; the door can only be opened manually." I looked at Drack, and he grunted, raising his hammer. And simultaneously with me, he struck, for now without activating the gravity strike.
BLAMMMMMMMMMMM!!!
Tali jumped back about two meters, clutching her ears.
"You have to warn us, you idiots! Two Bosh'tet! Half of Omega heard us," and she immediately raised her Omni-tool as turrets slid out of the ceiling.
Technical skills are useful, after all. The ability to fire a gel grenade or a dart that burns out electronics. Drones or turrets without shielding burn out in an instant. Which is exactly what happened; shielded turrets are expensive, and hacking systems are not widely used. We raised our hammers again.
BLAMMMMMMMMMMM!!!
This time, we got an answer:
"Who the hell are you? What the fuck are you doing? You weren't invited here! Get the hell out!" someone shouted from above, from the second or third floor.
They were fast; I thought I'd have to knock a couple more times.
"We need someone, and then we'll leave," Drack growled; his voice was more imposing.
"And who?" the voice shouted back irritably.
"Rael'Zorah, your technician. He owes us!" Tali chimed in.
I looked at the Quarian questioningly. That was a very bold decision. A Quarian who owes money isn't something supernatural; within the context of Omega, it's even normal. It's just that later they'll squeeze the cost of the turrets whose electronics we fried out of him, for instance. But Tali just reloaded her Magnum.
The door opened, the pins retracted into the wall with a clang, then the leaf rose, and a Turian pushed a young Quarian in white-and-red armor out the door. Familiar suits, though he only knows me as Vorhess.
"I've never seen them before!" the Quarian protested fiercely, trying to resist, and then he noticed Tali. "Tell them that..."
And he went silent, staring at the barrel of a pistol pressed against his helmet's faceplate. I must admit, even I was somewhat surprised by such sharpness. No, I understand she's playing a part. But she's doing it well.
"You're coming with us, Rael'Zorah," and she added to the Turian, who was more concerned with the Vorcha at the end of the street than with us, "he'll pay for the turrets later. Let's go."
The Turian shrugged and went back inside; he likely knows our ward's account number. Behind us, the door slammed shut again with a hiss and a clang, turning the building back into a bunker. The Quarian followed us submissively, glancing back and forth between us and Tali.
"I have no idea what's going on, but I didn't borrow anything from you, I'm sure of it."
I snorted.
"You realize that doesn't change anything, right? None of this should be discussed in the open; we shouldn't attract the locals' attention. Especially now."
A Pelican roared overhead, firing a burst from its machine gun at some Krogan who had spilled out of the building opposite. Rael'Zorah literally froze, watching as the ship landed, the rear bay opened, and the four-eyed insectoid figure of Javik appeared. The Quarian, in total shock, asked:
"Humans?" and pointed a finger at me quite rudely. "And what race are you? I don't remember any like that."
I just mentally looked at the ceiling. It seems the Quarian is in a bit of shock, though in his case, it's excusable. A normal, quiet Pilgrimage had just begun, and then we fly in and drag him off somewhere again. I'd be unhappy too. But I answered differently:
"I am a monument to all your sins. Yes, including that masturbation over Asari dancers in school," at which Tali stumbled and Drack burst out laughing. "Get in; we're attracting too much attention. Everything else later."
The Quarian tried to resist, but he was literally shoved inside. The pilot's voice came over the radio:
"Welcome back. I see everything went well?"
I nodded, aiming my rifle through the closing hatch of the Pelican.
"Success. Get us out of here before the Covies swarm us," I tossed out as we took our seats and the ship jolted, accelerating.
Rael'Zorah looked over the dark silhouettes of the soldiers, then ours, and asked again.
"Maybe you'll tell me why you need me? And why are you helping them?" he asked Tali accusingly.
The Quarian sighed.
"You know the password to return to the Migrant Fleet. We need it."
The Quarian tried to jump up, but Drack's mighty hand sat him back down.
"Sit and don't twitch; we're still flying. We need to meet with your admirals, and you're going to help us. One way or another."
The Quarian protested in a voice that barely trembled, looking into Drack's toothy maw, which could bite his head off through the suit without straining:
"No."
"Otherwise, the Migrant Fleet might be destroyed," Tali interjected. "The admirals need to be warned."
It didn't look like Rael believed her. But now he was angry at the Quarian.
"No. Why can't you do it yourself? What's your name? I..."
Tali cut him off.
"I know what your name is, Rael'Zorah. I am Tali'Zorah nar Rayya vas Apollo. Technically, I am your daughter. From the SSV Normandy. You're on your Pilgrimage now; have you heard of such a ship?"
The Quarian went silent and spent nearly two minutes studying his daughter. Unexpectedly, he believed her. During this time, the ship had flown more than half the way to the station exit, staying as high as possible among the towers. Finally, the Quarian came out of his "core overload" and said:
"It's hard for me to believe this. But if you're telling the truth, why all this?"
The Quarian turned to me.
"Show the recording, please. The Covenant wants to subjugate the Migrant Fleet. The admirals will resist, and we'll just be slaughtered. There will be no fleet left."
"Show it."
Rael'Zorah listened to the recording in silence and fell into thought. We didn't interfere with him; I actually moved to the Pelican's cockpit as it left Omega behind. At first glance, the station hadn't changed. There is incoming and outgoing traffic; the station glows with the lights of docking complexes and numerous windows. From this distance, there are no signs of battle at all. Except if you look closely, you can spot Covenant ships hanging nearby, but they aren't large vessels—patrollers. And there are fewer ships arriving at the station than leaving. Whoever can is evacuating or has already evacuated as far as possible.
In the asteroid belt, the Pelican quietly flew into the hangar of the stealth Frigate. In the last few minutes of the flight, both Quarians carefully filtered into the cockpit but remained silent.
"Interesting Cruiser," said the future admiral of the science fleet.
Tali countered with a laugh:
"It's a Frigate. Human ships are somewhat larger than what we're usually used to. Will you help us?"
The Quarian didn't answer immediately.
"I think so. I don't promise the admirals will believe you, but they must hear this. But I need to know more!" the Quarian added immediately. "I heard these ships don't use Mass Effect for propulsion!"
Tali laughed.
"That was one of the first things I asked about. Humans don't have Element Zero, so all their technologies are built on different principles."
This is all very sweet, but we have other tasks.
"All that later," I countered. "Now, the Migrant Fleet. I don't think you'll master the technical base in the hours it'll take us to reach the necessary Mass Relay. And we still have one issue to resolve, right, Tali?"
The Quarian nodded.
"Rael needs something to complete his Pilgrimage. We spoke with your command, and they recommended some technologies. Here, look."
She opened her Omni-tool and showed a diagram. An Active Sterilization System for a room—an interesting choice. Judging by the blueprints, it's not the newest model; this version of the device is about two hundred years old. But it's certainly something we can spare, yes.
This is difficult for Quarians, as they live in environmental suits even on ships. Yes, ships are sterilized, but Quarians try not to leave their suits for more than a couple of hours a week. For example, to reproduce. Because due to their weak immune systems, something that would give you a mild sniffle would confine a Quarian to bed for two weeks under heavy doses of antibiotics.
The Active Sterilization System has been used by humans for a very long time, ever since one person had the idea to hit another person with a combat virus. And the ASS is useful precisely because it's needed during development, so that the slightest leak doesn't kill the researchers, and as a defense. With the colonization of other worlds, the system became necessary because different worlds host different protozoa, including those dangerous to humans. And the system began to be installed on all ships without exception; moreover, it must be efficient enough so that hundreds of crew members don't spend several days on decontamination.
Such a system would be very useful for the Quarians, even a primitive one, even from the early colonization era when colonists lived much like the Quarians do now. Their own similar system is cruder, suitable for cleaning suits or ship interiors, but for organics without armor, their system can be dangerous. For children, for example, yes. I think our gift will be appreciated.
"This... will be interesting. I need to study everything," Rael'Zorah said with interest after examining the device.
Tali looked at me.
"I'm not needed right now, am I?"
I nodded.
"Everything's fine. Until we reach the fleet—you're free. But we'll still need the password; otherwise, we'll have to fight our way to the admirals."
"We'll be on time," Tali said seriously and led her father away.
By this time, only the pilot and I remained by the Pelican in the hangar. The man stepped out through the transport bay and remarked:
"Do you think this won't end in a relationship?"
I snorted.
"Technically, they're father and daughter."
The pilot shrugged.
"Many choose girls who look like their mother. I've read that. And she definitely looks like her, and she helped him with this expedition of his. A beautiful young girl, I take it, unmarried. It's almost a love story, a classic."
I just shrugged at that and sent the combat Avatar to the cabin. I need to clean the hammer. What those two get up to is of little interest to me. But I'm certain that the Gravity Hammer needs cleaning and that the negotiations might be difficult.
The ship left Omega through the Mass Relay, blowing up a Covenant patrol ship with the MAC. The next part of our mission is the Migrant Fleet. Whether the Quarian admirals will be like ours, I don't know. Human ones weren't exactly the best people at first either, but the war put everything in its place. Whitcomb, future Vice Admiral Hood, Vice Admirals Harper, Margaret Parangosky. All of them are specialists to one degree or another who took their places in a difficult time. The right person in the right place can turn the world around, and they are doing it.
Vice Admiral Margaret Parangosky loves to weed out the incompetent. And weed them out in both senses. It's just that the Quarians haven't fought for the last two centuries, and that leads to the inevitable degradation of the army.
Plus, the hatred of the Geth. That's also understandable, but it will interfere with agreements. The diplomat is the same man who negotiated with the Asari. A professional, not new to negotiating with radicals, and now with xeno-races as well. For him, this is practice and a portfolio. And the risk doesn't stop him.
"I am a man; where and how I take risks is my choice, Spartan," he answered calmly to a direct question.
Well, we'll see how it goes. Our next stop: the Migrant Fleet.
***
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