Following her unpacking, which really only took a few minutes, Sicaria climbed up into her bunk and sat with her legs hanging over the edge. She brought her left arm around to her front as her omni-tool came to life in its familiar orange, the glow almost like a friend to her at this point. Given the day she was having, she took a moment to simply appreciate the technology she had built into her arm; that almost everyone had built into their arm. It was a marvel, that galactic society had reached such a point, but they had somehow. In a way, things had always come full circle, with no specific start or end. But now that the total extermination of life had been ruled out?

Well, anything was possible.

She sat and stared at the warm, orange light for a few minutes, just thinking about what it really meant to her, before her right hand came up to the side of the hardlight. A few slides here, button presses there, and she had the name of the Kharon's yeoman pulled up. With a shopping list of errands to run on the ship, she started to type as fast as her three fingers would allow.

To: Calixta Oraka

From: Sicaria Velinian

Subject: Meeting w/ Aegon

Message: Sorry for the abruptness, but I'm one of the team Aegon and Anderson brought together and I need to schedule a meeting with the former. Is he free in about 10-15 minutes?

The Turian hit the send button and laid back on her bunk, crossing her legs over each other and intertwining her fingers behind her head, letting various things run through her mind as she waited for a response. In this gap, she heard a Drell enter the barracks and trip on her breastplate, which was tossed up at her a few moments later. She caught it and placed it to the side, then leaned out over the edge. "Sorry about that, still looking for places to keep stuff."

Several moments later, Sicaria got a ping on her omnitool and upon opening it, Calixta appeared on the wrist screen with a smile, "Hey, Velinian. I got your message and you're in luck. The Imperator is actually pretty free. He's just practicing in his quarters right now, but when I asked he said he could squeeze you in. You can head on up to the top deck now if you'd like. Should I tell him you're coming up?"

"Please do," Sicaria began, swinging her legs over the edge of the bunk once again and dropping to the floor, making sure to avoid piledriving Aviza on accident. "Mind if I throw a question at you while I head up? Well, a couple really, but you get the idea." While she spoke, she made her way out of the barracks and started for the elevator in the center of the ship.

Calixta nodded, tapping away at a datapad while video-chatting with the other Turian, "Sure, it's pretty slow right now. What do you want to know?"

The other alien pushed the button to call the elevator, unsurprised it had gotten some use since she had used it to leave the hanger. "Hmm... first, I wanna know why I got picked for this team. I don't have an amazing record and by all rights you should be trying to arrest me right now." She shifted her weight to her left leg.

Calixta pensively screwed her forehead as she replied, obviously a bit trepaditious about answering, "Well, I can't speak to Partinax's exact reasons. But I believe it has to do with your biotic specialty. There aren't many Turian biotics, and most of them are tied up in Cabals. Aegon wants the best, but the Hierarchy would be reluctant to transfer their Cabalists to his command. At least not without huge strings attached. When he heard there was a rogue Cabalist, he probably thought it was a big opportunity. He probably doesn't like the fact that you, uh, deserted. But he's much more lenient about that sort of thing than a lot of COs. A lot of his contacts are underworld types, and a good portion of the security team are former mercs. Aegon is more concerned with utlity than legality when it comes to assets."

"Makes sense. But he knows I was involved with the Suns, that sets me as a risk. Personally, I would've glanced over someone with my record, even if I was the only Cabal he could get his hands on. And I know that isn't the case, he got Tiberius on board." She looked up as the elevator stopped on her floor, prompting her to step into it as the door opened. She leaned to the side and tapped one of the buttons that would lead to Aegon's quarters.

"It's beside the point, I guess." She paused for a second, then tapped her foot and nodded to something that either Calixta couldn't see or wasn't there. "Remind me to go see the doctor... what's his name, Koriandr, right? All my information is gonna be dated by about four years."

Calixta nodded, "Of course. I'll make a note with him. Let's schedule you for an appointment after you talk to the boss. Fair warning though, he's polite but he can be a bit.... stuffy. Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Thanks, but could you move it back an hour? I have another stop I need to make beforehand... and thanks for the warning." Sicaria looked up from the hologram as the elevator slowed and stopped, the door sliding open a moment later. She stepped out and it closed behind her, taking off downwards as someone else called the lift.

Before her was the door to Aegon Partinax's quarters, the home away from home of a legendary soldier she was lucky enough to be serving under. She wasn't gonna lie, she was terrified and knew he had no reason to like her. 'If I wanna have a normal life after all this, I'll have to do this. Well, here goes...' She knocked on the door with her right hand.

Aegon Partinax, the Drakolix, twirled Sacrifice in his hand before twisting from the hip and slashing the target across it's abdomen before turning and stabbing backwards, impaling the sword through the target's chest. The holographic target, created with specially calibrated mass effect fields and a projector, flickered and virtually died.

He was stripped to the waist and wore only the fabric layer for his leg armor, his snow white endoskeleton taut over rippling muscle. Another target popped up and this time Aegon cut with a savage side-handed sweep, decapitating the artificial head in one move. He heard the knocks on the door and knew Sicaria was there.

Aegon, deactivated the projectors and sheathed the sword, putting on a light robe and grabbing a canteen of water as he turned on his omni-tool and opened the door, "Please come in." Aegon stood straight and crossed his arms, indicating a nearby bottle of Cipritine Gold, "Drink? Been sitting since Relay 314. What brings you here?"

The door opened up at Aegon's command, welcoming Sicaria in as she took a few steps in. She stopped very early and stood straight, snapping off a salute so crisp she could've been mistaken for a cadet reporting to the Primarch himself. She, however, wasn't a cadet reporting to the Primarch, and dropped the gesture a second later. She remained at attention until told otherwise, though.

"No thank you, sir. I need a clear head for now." Her stance waivered for a second as she took a breath, heart racing with a certain level of fear. She cleared her throat unecessarily before speaking again. "I need a favor, sir. You know I'm a criminal... and I need my name cleared. Sir." She stared up at the taller Turian, one mandible twitching slightly from nerves, though she refused to break eye contact.

Aegon didn't deign to return the salute after Sicaria dropped the motion but he nodded, "At ease, Velinian. You're not beholden to the Hierarchy command structure anymore, but I appreciate the gesture. Though I suppose that's why you're here." He maintained eye contact with the other Turian, his face inscrutable as he seemed to take the measure of her for a moment.

Then he nodded to himself, evidently finished with his examination as he drank from the canteen before speaking, "Yes, I've read your file. Impeccable technical and combat scores. Stellar performance in the field. Valued Cabalist with some engineering skill as well. Parents were decorated. You were a real up and comer Sicaria, very promising career. Great asset. And then you deserted."

Aegon placed down the canteen and crossed his arms, regarding her neutrally, "But that's all in the past now. You're on my team now and as long as you're with me the Hierarchy won't touch you. In fact, they probably won't bother even after you move on. So tell me. You seemed to be doing decently outside of the Hierarchy. Why do you want back in?" He stood straight, waiting for an answer.

The female relaxed only slightly, though she had to wonder for a moment. Did she actually want back in, or was she trying to run away again, only without an alias this time. "Truth is, I've been struggling. Little spit shine on a public record and the right connection does wonders." she admitted, looking down at the floor and shaking her head. "And I want back in to fix the mistakes I made. Me leaving did some damage, and I wanna repair that." she finished, pacing idly while her mandible continued to twitch.

Aegon continued to stare at her for a few moments, before finally nodding slightly "I know what you mean. You weren't the only Turian to lose faith after Saren went rogue. And you definitely aren't the only one to desert. But you do want to come back. Regardless of what I might think about your decisions Sicaria, you were a model soldier and an asset. We lost too many good people in the war and the Hierarchy will need as many veterans and experts as it can get its hands on. I'll work on changing your status. I'll talk to my contacts in High Command, see about procuring you an amnesty and a reinstatement."

The Turian stroked his talons across his mandible for a moment in thought, "It likely won't be easy. Primarch Victus might be my father-in-law but don't expect favoritism on this front. Desertion is a tough stain to wash out. They'll most likely approve it but with conditions. They'd probably want to put you in a high-surveillance unit. Lock you in a Cabal that has a fanatic for a Kabalim. But if you want to be transferred into my command, they'll most likely want a favor. A demonstration of loyalty. And it will most certainly be dangerous. Are you sure you want this Sicaria?"

She answered almost instantly, arms crossing and her weight shifting to her right leg. "It'd feel like cheating if I was let back in without issue. So no price is too high for me, sir." She went silent for a moment, glancing around the room in the pause. "Though it might be worth it to wait, so you can keep me without any strings attached, sir." While it wasn't in favor of her personal interests to wait, she felt it would be better to wait for Katabasis' mission to be completed.

Aegon seemed satisfied with her answer and might have even seemed pleased but it was difficult to know for sure. Aegon uncrossed his arms and consulted a datapad, looking over a report as he continued speaking, "No worries on that count. This operation will not be brief. Cerberus is only one piece of a very large puzzle. I have a feeling that our interests and High Command's might intersect. If we play this right, we can pursue our greater objective and reinstate you at the same time."

Aegon put down the datapad, "I'll pass on the request to High Command and I will keep you informed to any developments. Maybe Dessia can help smooth things over as well. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Hmm..." Sicaria began, eyes drifting over Aegon's form. They locked onto his shoulder where she could see the hilt of a sword on his back, when an idea popped into her head. "Not necessarily discuss, but I do have a question, sir." Her arms uncrossed and her left hand found its way to her hip, while the right one made an idle gesture to his shoulder.

"How often do you have someone to spar with?"

Aegon raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Not very often. Enthusiasts for the old styles aren't as common as they used to be. You're a duelist?" Aegon seemed legitimately curious now, for the first time not completely and absolutely already sure of the situation. He crossed to the weapons rack on one wall, all assembled under an old-fashioned suit of plate armor. Aegon placed Sacrifice back on the mantle and retrieved two less ostentautious mexta longswords.

"Where did you train? What form do you favor? Are you sure you're up for it now? There's no audience watching, no bets for Lyora to organize. Cramped spaces, not much room to manuveur. Not a great place for a duel." Aegon tossed Sicaria one of the mextas, the blade still had an edge but was traditionally forged, rather than being a monomolecular blade. It had been made the old way, by a master of the craft whose family had shaped steel since the Fuedal Age.

Aegon smirked, "And you're facing me."

"I wouldn't call myself a duelist, I'm a little too out of practice to." She took a beat to catch the sword that was flying at her, right hand closing fluidly around the grip of the blade like it was made to fit her hand. She gave the weapon an experimental swing as she listened to the Drakolix ask several questions in rapid succession. "I'm self-taught, actually. Not many places on Aephus or on the Citadel that offer any teachings." she explained, turning the weapon over in her hand. Believe it or not, the balance was just as good as modern blades.

"And truth be told, I never learned the names of any forms. Just really picked what worked and fit it in somehow, and why constrain yourself to one discipline when you have biotics to give yourself an edge?" Her right mandible got pulled back in a smirk as she realized she had just accidently threatened Aegon. "Apologies, sir. I only start warping people when my life's in serious danger."

Aegon laughed, "Don't worry Velinian. No danger here. Just fun." Aegon disrobed, throwing the garment to a nearby couch and drawing the mexta before placing the sheath away. He evidently intended to fight shirtless and armorless. Aegon gave the blade an experimental twirl, twisting the sword in a circle and whirling it around his back in an intricate pattern, a movement borne of years of practice and hard-earned skill.

He held the sword up and bowed to Sicaria before assuming his guard, holding the blade in both hands and turning the blade downwards. Aegon waited, watching Sicaria's movements with his unsettling violet eyes.

In a fashion similar to Aegon, Sicaria tossed her hoodie to the side before giving her sword a simple spin in her hand. Afterwards, she discarded the shirt as well since she had no intention of putting holes in a new piece of clothing.

Ready for the coming combat, she bowed to her opponent and pointed her left side towards him. Her sword, for all intents, was out of the way, though she was bouncing on her toes lightly. Almost like art in motion, she sprung into an attack, an upward swing coming in for the male's chest.

Aegon was ready. Instead of blocking or parrying, he dodged, quickly hopping to the side of his opponent and delivering a sweeping two-handed cut at Sicaria's side twisting at the hip as he swung before landing in a guard.

A little late on the reaction but nonetheless there, Sicaria deflected the blow by laying the flat of the blade against her forearm to be used as a shield. This allowed her the unconventional attack of trying to bash at the collar with the fuller rather than slice with the edge.

Aegon ducked under the blow, lashing out with a cut at Sicaria's legs, either impeding her mobility or forcing her back.

Quick on the recovery, she hopped over the swing and landed on her toes, pommel of her weapon coming down in an attempt to strike Aegon's head.

Aegon, seeing Sicaria hop over the blade and the descending pommel, rushed forward to avoid the strike and directing a shoulder charge at Sicaria before performing a pirouette followed by a two-handed diagonal cut.

The charge caught Sicaria off guard and sent her stumbling out of range of the swing, though she regained her balance a short moment later and swapped her stance. Her weight shifted forward and her left arm was raised slightly, sword pointed down at the floor in a tight grip. "It's all coming back to me now." she laughed, a smile coming to her face.

Aegon twirled back into a high guard and he grinned back at the other Turian "Good. I haven't had this much fun in ages." Aegon set his legs apart, both arms gripping the mexta as he twisted the blade towards Sicaria and started slowly moving in a circle towards her left side, his eyes never leaving her.

She snicked slightly and kept an eye on him, weight shifting to her back leg again. "Not even with your wife, sir?" At the end of this comment, about when Aegon got completely around to her left side, she spun on her right foot and made a backhand slice at his shoulder.

She wasn't in range, though. As she followed through with her whiff, she repeated the previous action, except she launched for her opponent by kicking off the floor with her left foot. The distance between them was closed in an instant as she spun for him, hilt now gripped with both hands.

Aegon, watching Sicaria intently hadn't been fazed by the comment or her slashing feint, the blade passing by in front of him as he knew it would. Watching his opponent tense, he wondered what she could be planning. She leaped at him, sword flashing in a whirling slice and if Aegon hadn't been a master duelist and the recipient of extensive gene modifications, he would most likely have been struck. As it was, his enhanced and honed reflexes just barely averted the blow. In a flash, Aegon's sword intersected between himself and Sicaria and there was a clarion ring as the steel clashed.

Aegon hadn't expected Sicaria to be quite so aggresive, but he adjusted. Not giving Sicaria a chance to recover, Aegon delivered a staccato series of slashes and cuts, focusing on speed over strength. His sword whistled through the air as he unleashed a barrage of strikes, his violet eyes intent on Sicaria as he moved unaturally fast.

She was able to keep pace at first, though as the strikes kept coming, she found herself making more and more desperate parries and blocks. He was turning the fight in his favor, and she was quickly falling behind his pace, so that gave her few options to try and gain an upper hand. Before she knew it, there was a swing coming for her she simply couldn't manuver her sword in to block, so she was left only with a slim chance at a stupid plan.

The female dropped her center of balance and brought her left hand to meet with her attacker's sword hand and simultaniously swung up at the Drakolix with her weapon.

Aegon calmly kept up the offense, sure that Sicaria would soon buckle. Indeed she did and Aegon thought a quick victory was likely imminent. But another part of him reminded that part that Sicaria was unconventional and determined. He couldn't predict what she would do, but she would likely try something.

She raised her hand to block his sword hand and Aegon was somewhat thrown off by the desperation move. Then he saw the sword flashing toward him and understood. Aegon abandoned the next strike and rolled back, coming into a guard and putting distance between himself and his opponent.

Aegon was visibly impressed, "Interesting strategy. Risky. But rewarding. Aegon was cautious now, knew that Sicaria was resourceful and cunning. He had all the physical advantages but he could not discount her. But she was starting to look a but worn down.

Aegon said, "If you need a break, we can take a few minutes Vellinian. Let you catch your breath." He kept up his guard and waited to see if she would make a move.

With another smile creeping onto her face, she fell off her toes and lowered her sword. "I'll take you up on that offer, sir." She set the weapon down a few feet from the bottle of Cipritine Gold from earlier before leaning on the surface, legs crossing. "Been a long time since I've held a sword. It feels good to again." She started breathing through her mouth, filling her lungs with as much oxygen as possible.

Aegon smiled and sheathed the sword, leaning the weapon against a couch as he sat next to her. His adrenaline was up and he was breathing a bit quicker than usual, but he wasn't as exerted as her. He trained almost every day and it would have taken a much longer duel for fatigue to have started to settle in.

"It's been a long time since I've had a proper sparring partner. Visenya is more of a knife enthusiast and father is getting a bit old for the game. But you have natural talent Sicaria. A little rusty perhaps, but good instincts. Proper training and you'd be solid duelist material." Aegon retrieved a canteen of water, offering it to Sicaria while he pointed towards a wall that held several accolades, trophies, and medals, focusing in on a small silver piece, "That's from my first tournament. I was fourteen and I came in second out of all the other students. Of course that wasn't good enough for me. Rhaenys Coronati, my cousin, was the one who beat me. And I thank her for it. Without that, I don't think I would have trained so hard. Day and night, constantly." He indicated a long row of other tournament trophies, all gold.

Aegon looked at Sicaria, "Any time you feel like honing your skills, you can try and see if I'm available. I can start to teach you some traditional styles, increase your skill base. How's that sound?"

While he spoke, Sicaria was looking through his trophy cabinet. Everything was incredibly impressive, statues and medals making him out to be a truthful and legal variation of a Jay Gatsby. "Swordfighting lessons from the legendary Aegon Partinax? You'd have to kill me to make me say no. Question is, is there anything I can offer in return?" She tore her eyes away from the accolades and turned to face the taller Turian. "And don't say my loyalty, you already have that, sir."

Aegon smiled, "Then it's settled. Any time we're both free, we can set out an hour or two to for training. But fair warning, Vellinian, walking the path of the sword is no easy feat. It'll be like boot camp all over again. Except with less profanity and more injuries. It won't be anything you can't handle though." He was a bit taken aback by her declaration of loyalty, unused to such proclamations. His face was difficult to read. He could have been embarassed. Confused. Or even thankful.

All he could do was nod, looking down at Sicaria and staring right into her eyes, "Thank you Sicaria. It's an honor to have you on the team." Aegon was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say, "I can't ask anything further from you Sicaria. You're willing to give your life the cause, even though the cause thinks of you as a traitor. That kind of dedication is as precious as anything. But... if you don't have any engagements, perhaps you'd like to stay for a bit? No dueling. Just the two of us."

"I'd be glad to, sir. Though I have a meeting with Koriandr in..." she paused to check her omni-tool, navigating through a few things until she found a clock. "...about forty-five minutes. Gotta get all my medical information updated." Her elbows found their ways onto the counter as she slipped a little lower, looking around the room and taking everything in for the first actual time.

"If you have any questions for me, now's the time, sir."

Aegon indicated the couch, "Here, we can get more comfortable. Ha, do I look like a human? Full of personal inquiries and probing questions? Hmm. How have you found life outside of the Hierarchy? Is it any better than life within it?" Aegon finally seemed to relax somewhat, sitting on the couch and not being quite so rigid. He still didn't put on a shirt either.

Sicaria, on the other hand, went to recover her shirt. She slipped back into it as she answered. "There's certainly a lot more freedom outside, but I wouldn't call it a worthy trade. Omega's a hellhole, and the ends of the Wards aren't much better." She paused as she sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, legs crossing neatly. "But it changes something in everyone that stays there for long enough. Breaks them down and rebuilds them differently, you could say."

Aegon poured himself a glass. Not wine, though. A fruit juice. Real tupo berry juice straight from the Kilika highlands. He offered some to Sicaria as he said. "Like boot camp in a way. You should have seen me before I started basic. But how did Omega change you?"

She accepted the drink and set it down on the end table beside her, smirking lightly at the thought of Aegon being a rambunctious young Turian with a gun. "It brought me to my lowest, put me against odds nearly as impossible as us against the Reapers." She stopped to sip her drink, right hand settling into her lap. "Though I did find out that a lot of other races like us just as much as the Asari, in terms of physicallity." The female chuckled to herself briefly, looking down at the floor.

"If I may ask, what were you like before basic?"

Aegon smirked at the comment before gazing up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to his youth, "Truth be told? I was a complete hothead. No regard for the rules. No respect. No sense of limitations. I was too smart for my own good and my mouth was as quick as my sword hand is now. I can't even tell you how many times I made my parents nearly go crazy. I got into a fight with a group of older boys once. Completely avoidable, but I ended up with a black eye and more bruises than I could count. One of them lost a tooth. And I had absolutely no regrets. They were picking on a Nardaki kid, calling him a servant. And I faced them down without a second thought. I marched to the beat of my own drum. Boot straighted me out a little.

Aegon smiled, remembering his impeteous younger self, "What about you?"

She sipped her drink again, smiling at the story. Even when he was young, Aegon seemed a paragon in his own right. "I would've done the same thing. But me? I was a lost kid before boot camp, troubled past and everything. But I survived, and came out tougher for it." She sighed lightly, turning the glass slightly and watching the juice move around. "My uncle was a deadbeat, a burnout that peaked during his service that did nothing but hire prostitutes and drink all day. So, basic saved me, really. Anything's better than stepping over beer cans to get to your room." She looked up and splayed both mandibles in a shrug.

"It jaded me to almost everything, though. So it worked out."

Aegon listened attentively, but knowing not to belittle Sicaria by showing pity. Aegon had grown up privileged, with everything he could have needed. He sometimes forgot that not all Turians grew up that way. He raised a glass in acknowledgement, "But not to the Hierarchy. You still believe in Sacrifice. Duty. Loyalty. Brotherhood. If you ask me, you're a romantic."

He swilled everything in his glass a little, "How did things work out with your girlfriend? Is she alright with you serving again?

Sicaria swallowed hard at this question, sitting silent for a long moment. While she had been flattered by Aegon seconds before, she was now in an awkward position. She responded in a low, weak voice. "She had her worries, but... we broke up this morning. I'll spare you the details." Her glass was returned to the end table and she readjusted herself to face the male a little more.

Aegon frowned, putting the glass down, "I'm sorry Sicaria, I didn't know. I won't press you for details. How do you feel?" Aegon felt a bit uncomfortable. This kind of heart to heart was just not his forte. But he felt somehow obligated to try, "I know how hard it can be to balance the soldier's life with a love life."

She sighed before responding, looking up at him with dull eyes. "I lied when I said Omega brought me to my lowest. You're seeing me at it right now..." She let herself slump down in the seat a bit before continuing. "Though looking back, it became almost nothing but meaningless sex after the first year. Maybe it was a good thing we parted, and Alria's helping me work through it. She's a saint, I swear, just trying everything she can to make everyone's day better." There was almost a visible longing in her eyes now, like the mere mention of the girl had brightened her up again.

Aegon said nothing, listening and letting Sicaria talk. He didn't know the words to help her, but he thought an ear would still be something. After a moment of intense internal debate, wherein Aegon contended with both a sense of awkwardness and regulations against fraternization, Aegon leaned over towards Sicaria and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You're back with the Hierarchy now. You're in my team. That means you're one of us and always will be. And that I'll be here to help in any way I can." Aegon had said those words before. He always meant them. And he almost always failed them. Would this time be any different? He didn't know, but he had to try.

These words brought a light smile to her face, looking up at the fellow Turian. "Thank you, sir." She pulled him into a fleeting hug before letting go and standing up.

"I should be on my way, just drop me a message if you need me for anything. Or get Talos to yell at me, whichever you feel is appropriate." With this, she retrieved her hoodie and slipped it on before heading for the door, leaving to attend to other less significant matters.

Everything was quite overwhelming at first. Salissa was not used to the way specters did things. Her usual time spend in ships was just a small transport vessel that served as the base of her former unofficial military unit. Even when she returned to the alliance at the dawn of the reaper war, she again used to ride on transport because she was a soldier she fought hand to hand. More importantly she was a simple soldier, thus never really been to such ships such as this one, though she had seen many that was for sure. This one was probably the most beautiful one she had the chance to see. Also the crew was quite unique in it's own way! She expected turians, the asari and so on, but the sheer variety they were met with was way beyond what she expected and she was glad for it. She had nothing against other races and in fact wanted to work with them all, this was a good chance to do so.

As they were given the tour of the ship, she made a note to visit the people she needed to right away. Namely Dr. Tenno Kala. The salarin tech expert. She had suspected there was something wrong with her cybernetics, but the events of the last 2 days confirmed it. She suspected it was probably a bad electrons connection and by the way her left arm behaved, probably a damaged servo motor around her elbow. She lacked strength in her left arm. Thinking about it, she realized the last repair was during the reaper war and since she had not gotten any. Maybe the stress from the rapid fire of the revenant finally showed it's strain on the parts... that and the amount of melee combat she did since.

With a sigh she quickly walked over to where the tech expert was located. She still carried her bag since well a small bag was all her luggage, might as well carry it for the moment until she takes a bunk.

“Dr. Tenno Kala, I may need your aid in some delicate matter...” Salissa stated when she entered.” My cybernetics appear to be damaged. Would it be possible for you to do a quick inspection on them? I think it's the servos and some of the connections gotten loose, but can't be sure if there's other problems with them.” She stated, pulling down the big dark sheet, that served a cloak like function, to show the cybernetics. They were old models, bulky, heavily armored and heavily scratched. With the only reason for not be broken probably being the heavy armor.

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Once Partinax finished up the tour of the HSV Kharon, Rol'Naaris began to walk towards his room within the HSV Kharon. It had a year since he last was living aboard a ship and it was going to take time to feel comfortable enough. And he already missed Alexandria and the sounds of sand hitting his armor during a windy day while walking around marketplaces. He soon arrived at the engineering deck and made sure to avoid Octavio Tatum or Rol'Naaris was going to spend a half hour listening to pointless facts about the FTL drives. His room was designed for a quarian to take off their helmets and gear without dying. Once he set off inside the room, the doors shut and locked while he looked at the soulless room. He knew that he had to talk to one of the Spectres about letting him decorate it.

Rol'Naaris sat on his bed and spent a few minutes on his omni-tool device, looking up things to put into his room. Once he was done shopping, he got off of his bed and left his new room. At least it was private. But, he did not want to sit around and do nothing. He began to walk around the ship going from deck to deck, getting used to his new home. He noticed that the crew was mostly made up of turians. After all, the Kharon was a turian designed ship. Rol'Naaris were not bothered the overpopulation of turians as he kept on walking around the ship. Then, he ended up at the starboard observation deck.

It was a perfect place to relax and look at the darkness of space for the first time in a year. He was sitting on one of the couches and listened to the calm sounds in the background. Of course, his thoughts began to get the best of him. They were similar to what he thought back at the memorial. Those that he sent to their deaths started to haunt his thoughts. Even the sounds of nature could not suppress the thoughts. It was time to go back to leave this room before he did something embarrassing. He got up from the couch and started to head for his room avoiding the asari psychologist.

He began to breath in and out as he went to the elevator and waited for it to take him to the engineering deck. Once the elevator doors opened up, he got out and immediately headed for his room. Rol'Naaris needed to do something in order for the thoughts to go away; however, he did not know what to do. He waited at the door to his room opened and the quarian quickly entered. The door shut closed and locked itself again as he saw the storage locker. He learned how to field strip from his time with the Marines and knew that his sniper rifle needed a routine checkup. So, he began to work on stripping his sniper rifle, Equalizer IX.

It was more peaceful to be doing something rather than sitting around and listening to calm music. The thoughts mostly went away while he field stripped his sniper rifle twice. Afterwards, he pulled out his omni-tool and began to surf the extranet. Rol'Naaris waited until he either got bored or something else happened that made him stop. As long as he worked on his weapon, he did not have to think about anything other than making sure that it still works at the end of the day.

---

"Affirmative." Phalanx responded before turning its head to watch Aviza walk by. "Greetings, Aviza Norea." it returned the greeting before snapping its flashlight gaze toward the asari whom grabbed its hand. At the tugging, Phalanx was quick to follow the blue organic's lead to her room. Watching her go to shower, the synthetic examined the supplies for a moment, making some calculations before starting to tinker.

When she returned, Phalanx looked to Vella, listening as the asari chattered about, giving some explanation of having spare parts and pondering what kind of drone she would like. The Geth's three fingered hands grasped the assembled machinery, placing it closer to Vella for thorough examination.



"This is similar to a Geth Drone. Mostly used for recon and stealth kills. Fragile but powerful. But if you require something a bit heavier, we can make further re-calibrations." Phalanx chirped.

The siege of Kavar. The most brutal and bloody battle to ever stain the stars. Overhead the flames of war raked through the once peaceful skies and stars as battleships and fighters. The ancient Al'rakai have torn through the universe, cutting galaxies apart and turning the stars to dust, but that stops now. Here and now in this final stand between the bastards that burn the galaxy, and the brave men and women of the great Turian Hierarchy. Next to her the general Vindictus cut through swathes of foes, carving apart the Al'rakai like they were wheat to a scythe with his Mexta Sun Scythe, said to be forged in the last vestiges of Palaran's dying sun as the Al'rakai ate from it's light.Yet no matter how many he killed, no matter how much glistening blood made him armor glow in the pale light of the dying sun, they just kept coming.

As the dying light of a dying sun began to fade into the darkness, so too did Vindictus' fate. This was it for him...

Yet as he came to accept his fate, destiny road in on a heavily armed dropship, lighting up the fields around him with incendiary rounds, turning the battleground to a sight of beautiful salvation. In the side of the dropship, manning the heavy repeating blaster was the one and only love of Vindictus' life, Nivia. The rogue and exiled former queen of the Blood Fang mercs and former childhood friend of Vindictus. She was an angel to him and as her wings let her down, she ran across the field to embrace her love.

But before the two met in sweet connection, a thunderous crack raned from the sky and Nivia was engulfed in flames, licked by the cruel heat and launched to Vindictus' feet. He couldn't bear the weight on his heart and as he knelt to hold her broken body close he heard her last words, "I will always love you... Please... please... live on... for me..." He called out to the stars, screaming aloud to see the cause of the murder. The Al'rakai leader, Lord General Aral'kan Vatis himself in his cruel visage, holding a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

"MURDERER! I swear I will... ding!... ahem... I said! I swear I will... DING!" Snapping out of her chapter Alria looked from her book to the source of the sound, "Oh~! Toast is done!" Marking her space and setting down her romance book she wandered over to the small toaster she had in her ship, popping it open and putting the hot dextro-bread on a plate. After a little more preparation she was ready to enjoy a good snack.

Things had calmed down a decent bit from earlier and that was just what Alria was hoping and waiting for, but in truth as she continued to eat her snack she couldn't stop thinking of Sicaria. She seemed so flustered and bothered by something and that was not ok!

Heading back to her bed Alria reached across her arm to switch on her omni-tool, pullin gup her contacts and starting to assemble a message to Sicaria, "Hey! I know something is wrong with you. Are you..." No, no, no that sounds almost accusing. "How's it going Sicaria? I know we just said bye a little bit ago but I was wondering..." URGH! Now that just sounds too clingy.

"Everything ok? I know we just parted, but are you getting settled on the ship well? We got a bunch of stuff so if you'd like some help I'd be more than willing to help you unpack!" Alria typed out, nodding to herself and thinking that it didn't sound so bad, but maybe a little addition would help. "I had fun today. We should REALLY do it again soon!" Good enough... maybe. Pushing send, she let the message head through the data-verse, hoping that Sicaria was still awake and that the message wouldn't disturb her too much.

---

---

"Thanks, Koriandr. All my records should be in order now, have a nice day," Sicaria said as she left the medical bay, all her affairs squared away for now. All she had now was glorious free time with which she could do whatever she wanted to. Food was out of the question, her appetite still hadn't returned, and she wasn't particularly exhausted. The choice was robbed of her as her omni-tool pinged, lighting up and prompting the Turian to open a message from none other than Alria.

She read through it twice to make sure she wasn't hallucinating... was she flirting with her? It was quite possible, she could never tell with written messages, and the capital 'REALLY' was making things lean more towards romantic intentions. That said, she pumped the brakes on her mind for a second, as far as she knew, Alria was straight. She lost a little hope, but maybe there was a slim chance. Well, it was better than nothing.

She started to type back. "I'm doing better, and the ship's nice. And I didn't really get too much, just need to find some places for everything. Want me to drop by in a little bit?" She hit send as she started to move for the elevator, aimlessly wandering until she got some kind of reply.

The Next Day, HSV Kharon

After lunch, Talos' dulcet tones filtered over the ship's intercom, communicating to everyone on the Kharon, "All field operatives, please report to the hangar. Imperator Partinax and Lieutenant Anderson will conduct a briefing shortly."

After several minutes Task Force Katabasis was crowded into the hangar, several dropships already loaded up with extended crew bays. There were a few dozen Turians already there, many of them with extensive scars, tattooes, and even the odd cybernetic. They were a hard bunch and regarded the task force members with varying levels of appraisal to near hostility. The Vorcha pilots leaned against their craft, bedecked in flight suits with demonic helmets on. Aegon stood at the front of the formation, between the troops and the dropships, bedecked in armor but with the Spectre badge prominently displayed on the breast plate next to his Blackwatch sigil and Imperator swords. Jake was attired in a more subtle tactical hardsuit.

They waited until everyone was fully assembled and Aegon activated his omni-tool displaying two separate tactical views, one of a castle on a hilltop overlooking a vast wilderness, the other of Zone Twelve, commonly known as ETown, a rag-tag hodge-podge of prefabricated buildings and temporary housing cobbled among ruins of a London neighborhood. Aegon spoke up, "We're splitting up into two teams now. The Kharon's security complement and an assault squad from the Task Force, led by myself, will head down to Zone Twelve. Tensions are rising and a massive crowd has amassed outside of the neighborhood. Counter-protestors from the refugees are assembling en masse and the situation could turn into a riot at any moment. Normally, this wouldn't be a Spectre concern but intel we've received indicates that Cerberus plans to ignite that riot and spread violence across the town, before blowing a warp bomb and eradicating everything in a square mile."

"All of our ground resources are busy trying to hold back the crowds, along with dealing with a number of other complications. So we need to go down there, avert that riot if we can and defuse that bomb before it takes out thousands of people. If it goes off, the city and perhaps even the whole planet will see blood flowing between the alien refugees and the locals. General Coats and a special military detachment are already on the ground, but we also have reason to believe that Cerberus has planted armed agents inside the Zone already. If this gets ugly, we're going to see a meat grinder down there. So arm up heavy. At the same time, we have to be careful not to cause too much collateral damage. It's a quagmire I know, but if it were easy they wouldn't have needed us. Jake?"

Jake nodded and stepped forward, "Our other objective is more subtle but no less essential. Terra Firma extremists have taken several aliens and alien sympathizers hostage and are planning to execute them live on the Extranet. Alliance Marines will do the deed. We need to stop it or it'll send shockwaves through the planet and the galaxy. Commander Vega and his squad will run assist for our covert team which I will lead. We'll be dropping in from a high-altitude, landing in the forest and making our way to this abandoned castle that Cerberus and Terra Firma have occupied. If it goes loud, it'll be nearly impossible to get in so this needs to be done quietly, at least until we're inside. Then we find the hostages and rescue them before the executions and we call the Kharon for evac and fire support."

Jake spoke up, "With me on the hostage team will be Aviza, Phalanx, Tiberis, Alria, Rol, Rykarn, and Sicaria. The rest of you will go down to ETown with Aegon and his marines." Aegon continued, "These missions will be of the utmost importance. Failure means the immediate deaths of thousands of innocents and the spread of discord and chaos that could claim countless more. As such we need to hash out any and all questions now. Speak up if you have any questions."

"This is similar to a Geth Drone. Mostly used for recon and stealth kills. Fragile but powerful. But if you require something a bit heavier, we can make further re-calibrations."

Vella's purple eyes visibly widened as the Asari leaned forward to look down at the piece that Phalanx had presented to her, picking up the small drone and holding it in her hands.

"It's so pretty! I really like the sleek curves on that design!" Vella said as she moved her other hand to the piece as well, moving it about as her eyes darted about the drone; inspecting every little angle from every possible crevice; the Asari seemingly so fixated upon the little drone that in her mind she completely forgot about the towel wrapped around her as it unfolded and fell right off, leaving her in the nude as she studied the drone in a moment, as if possessed by it!

It took a while for Vella to begin placing the drone back onto the table, and her brain started registering the last part of the Geth's message.

"You can make it even bigger?" Vella exclaimed in a suddenly hush tone, almost as if she was about to ask for the forbidden fruit.

As if she suddenly found herself in a conspiracy, Vella's eyes darted towards the door to the room, still shut and with no sound of anyone knocking or about to enter, and then back to the ever bright and innocent looking lamp-head that was Phalanx's strangely unnerving yet adorable face.

"Just... how heavy can you make this combat drone?" Vella asked, leaning in closer, her voice lowered to almost a whisper.
"What if, say, I was to go down to engineering and... sort out a deal to get the best parts. How big of a drone could you make do you think?"

*

The next day, Vella found herself with the rest of the team and crew, gathering in the hangar. She was wearing only her standard issue Asari leathers with their simple kinetic barrier system, the black leather with its gray white, hexagonal trim sitting tightly on her body like a second skin, her armor still in her locker. Although often referred to as leathers, the suit was hardly normal leather; it was more chemically treated plastic and specialized rubber elements to the point it could hardly be called 'leathers' anymore. It gave it a high degree of flexibility, and properly fitted, it was almost the same as wearing nothing at all.

Looking around the hangar, Vella felt at ease. Mostly.

She didn't mind the Turians. Although they made an effort to look like tough hardasses who were entirely incapable of understanding concepts like "emotions" or "compassion", Vella knew that behind their thick scales, most Turians were fairly emotionally stable. If anything, war & disaster seemed to be a healthy thing on the Turian psyche. Vella had heard that suicide rates among turians were never lower than when they were at war, ironically.

However, it was mostly the Vorcha that kept Vella at unease, and her arm drifting unnaturally close to the Acolyte pistol at her side.

Vorcha were aggressive, impulsive, short thinking; and as a society, incapable of forming any semblance of social order. Vella had been to areas populated mostly by Vorcha, and at those times, she had mostly looked down at dusty, crime ridden streets of disorder and chaos, through the camera of a remotely operated vehicle turret!
Having them on the same ship as the rest of the crew was ludicrous. She was confident that the Vorcha were just a ticking time bomb, and the only logical explanation for their presence here would be that the higher ups viewed this mission as too dangerous to risk the lives of some of their actual fighter pilots.

She had to admit, if you needed cannonfodder, Vorcha were not a bad choice.

She just didn't want to be with the cannonfodder!!

"This is not the time for second guessing, Vel! Just don't call for air support during the mission, and everything is going to be alright!"

Vella shoved the thoughts out of her head to focus on the briefing instead. She had missed the part about why the refugees were fighting against... someone... but she had heard the bit about there being a bomb, and that it needed to be diffused, and so naturally, raised her hand.

"Yeah, uh, how do we plan on finding this bomb?" Vella inquired, turning towards Aegon.
"Because if we don't know how yet, I may have a few ideas!"

Alria watched as her omni-tool displayed a 'texting' icon. Letting her know a response was on the way. So taking a minute to watch and wait before getting an answer. Come over? Hey couldn't be a bad idea, especially because Sicaria DESPERATELY needs dancing lessons. However, there was a slight issue. The day was falling and rumor about the ship was they would have a busy day tomorrow. So as much as she wanted to have a girls only dance night. That may have to wait for a more appropriate day. Instead she started to text back, "I'd like for you to come over but I don't think now is a good time. It's getting late and we've got some work to do tomorrow. I'm definitely taking a rain check though!"

From there Alria went about cleaning up after her little snack and before long was packing in for bed, stripping down to silks and tucking into her sheets, after locking the door to her ship of course. From there it was just a night of sweet dreams and curious thoughts for what tomorrow would bring.

Come the next day Alria woke up and after a rather lazy and slow paced waking moment that involved way to much trudging with closed eyes. She got dressed in her civilians before taking her leave of her ship. It was a lazy day getting breakfast from the ship's mess, before deciding to take a minute and check over her ship. Truly nothing had gone wrong or needed to be looked at, but it never hurt to take care of your baby. Taking that course of action up to lunch she once again ate from the mess. Once sated in the food department she just wandered about the ship, heading to the hangar to investigate the sparring matches. Pondering if she wanted to teach the boys some lessons, but before she could humiliate the crew the intercoms came up summoning her to a briefing.

Having already been in the hangar it wasn't much to head back into her ship and change into more... 'formal' attire. Dawning her armor and loading up with her weapons. From there she left the Silver Star to see a few others already standing about waiting. Deciding to join them she waited for not much longer before things kicked off and the boss men came around to deliver the plan.

The briefing was simple enough and it gave the major points. Upon their conclusion and being told it was question time Alria raised her hand like a school kid and spoke up to ask, "For us, are we cleared for lethal force or are we looking for minimum casualties? As long as it's silent of course! And as well, am I running advanced recon again?" Her questions simple and innocent enough, mostly just looking for her specific directions and if it would require her to do what she does best. Sneak silently, kill quietly, and work from her special skill set to assist her fellows.

On the previous day, Sicaria had taken note of the time after Alria returned her message and headed off to bed. They weren't bad at all, soft and supportive was surprising of a mattress on a military vessel, though she still had trouble sleeping. It took her a long time to realize why, though the answer soon came in a longing to simply have someone there beside her, as even a smaller bed felt empty without two people occupying it. The result was committing to a sinful act that's better off not being described, committed silently with the privacy screen of her bunk closed tight, until she passed out sometime late in the night, probably in the technical morning.

When morning came, the sharp ping of an alarm forced her out of her uneasy slumber that had done little to refresh her. With her body protesting every slight movement, she opened up a drawer in the wall to her left and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, which she slipped into before opening the screen and swinging her legs out. She was at least half-dressed before she made her way to the mess, intent on getting some breakfast. Unfortunately, it seemed she missed Alria in the process.

A few hours later, in which she had been acclimatizing herself to the ship, the team was called together for some kind of briefing, to which she got her armor on and retrieved her weapons before heading down to the hangar. There, Jake and Aegon explained the situation and gave out the team assignments. The hostage team seemed solid at a glance, people that could diffuse a situation with diplomacy in the forms of Aviza, Rol, Alria, and Rykarn. And if things got bloody? That's when Rykarn would swap roles and the others would step in. Though she had a nagging thought in the back of her head, which she asked with a snap of her fingers. "Sir, I've heard humans have a policy, 'we don't negotiate with terrorists.' Are we following this or is negotiation an option?" She paused, then added something as an after thought. "I'm fine with either option, sir."

The Following Day...

A vigorous buzzing shook Rykarn's wrist as he woke from a dreamless slumber, his omni-tool's alarm function synchronized with the Kharon's on-board systems, rousing him along with the rest of the crew scheduled for that shift. His makeshift sleeping accommodations were adequate, although it took him five minutes of sitting at the edge of his bed in a closed-eyed meditation to calm his restlessness and aggressive anxiety of being stuck in the confines of a ship's hull. He was never one to care for space travel, and while he wasn't a wreck while stationed aboard one, there was always a part of him that yearned for solid ground and fresh air. He'd learned to control his state of mind over decades of practice. It wasn't just him; most krogan didn't take to confined ship spaces well, and many had to be sedated while on voyage. Whoever decided that the krogan needed his own space was obviously one who was knowledgeable enough about the species to know how to mitigate the risks.

After this meditation routine was through, Rykarn methodically went through the motions of armouring up and fifteen minutes after his alarm went off made his way to the mess hall where Kalozi, the Elcor cook was hard at work preparing the crew's compliment of breakfast. Ending up with a generous heap of eggs and some kind of sausage he couldn't place, Rykarn sat down at the end of one of the benches and mindlessly scrolled through news headlines as he ate, stopping to skim an article of a dog and varren race that took place over the previous night in Leeds. As it turned out, Earth-born greyhounds were substantially faster than the stocky, brutish varren, which seemed to have a hard time finding homes with humans who treated the dog and fish like creatures like a dog, forgetting most of them were barely tame predators with substantial violent pedigree under their beady fish eyes. A lot of stupid kids got bit, and the varren were put down like they were the problem. For a species that fast tracked their way onto a Council seat, humanity was sure full of idiots. Other headlines included things like a 230-year old brewery catching fire, a billionaire trying to start up a Reaper-centric museum with real Reaper parts that were proving impossible to get thanks to government intervention, and a few other things that weren't worth a note. Surprisingly, the gunfight against the Husks didn't really make the news; there was barely any word about the apartment complex collapsing. It was as if the media had a gag order to prevent a widespread panic.

Finishing his meal and placing his tray on a conveyor belt that went back to the dish washing area, Rykarn had twenty minutes until the meeting and so made his way to Relli, the off-brand salarian subspecies that was still taking some getting used to, appearance-wise. "I understand you're the one we talk to if we want to get something."

The Lysenthi looked up from his terminal. "Something like that. So long as it isn't blatantly outside of reason."

"Good. I need a few things for my quarters." Rykarn said, handing over a list to Yonn via datapad. "Some flowering plants, a few carnivorous ones I can feed dead rodents. One of those bonsai trees humans tell me are relaxing. One of those vid-frames that looks like you're looking out the window somewhere nice, for starters. Equipment-wise, three crates of Hanhe-Kadar grenades, a couple of universal vintage heat-sinks, and a smart choke for a 5th gen Tornado line of shotgun. Can you make this happen?"

Relli looked it over without much in the way of consideration. "Simple enough. I'll price that out and get you the estimate by the time you're back from the mission today." The Lysenthi said, handing the datapad. With a quick exchange of pleasantries, Rykarn made his way to the training area and joined in with the morning physical training that was scheduled for the crew.

Sometime after lunch, a briefing was called and Katabasis was assembled in the hanger. Standing off to the side, arms crossed, Rykarn listened politely as the team was briefed on the situation. It surprised the krogan he was assigned to the hostage-rescue team. After the others asked their questions, he spoke up. "All do respect to your leadership choices, but wouldn't it make more sense for me to be on riot duty? A krogan is imposing and can physically subdue just about anything short of a Yahg, and throwing me at a delicate situation like rescuing hostages without risking their lives is kind of like bringing a sledgehammer to build a birdhouse. Not to say I'd have a problem following orders, but I'm not exactly a precision instrument. I'm concerned about hitting a hostage with weapon spread or being a bit too conspicuous for a quiet insertion."

---

---

🇭🇸🇻 🇰🇭🇦🇷🇴🇳
The alarm went off while Rol'Naaris was doing some full-body stretches after working out for an hour. He had been up since three o'clock and it was because of the nightmares. They were similar to the ones that he had back on Earth and it caused Rol'Naaris to not sleep for the entire night. So, he checked his sniper rifle (again) and his shotgun for any damages that needed repair. Twice. Afterwards, he went down to the mess hall for something to drink and discovered Kalozi, the Elcor cook, beginning to cook the crews' meals for breakfast. The quarian grabbed his liquified food and started to drink. Since quarians' immune systems were weak, their foods had to be liquified so the body was tricked into thinking it was getting solid food. However, thanks to the geth, that's changing rather too quickly. The machines began to tap into quarian suits in order to improve the immune systems. The thought of a geth tapping into Rol'Naaris' suit crept him out.

Once he was done with his meal, Rol'Naaris thanked the cook and put his plate on a conveyor belt and went back to his room. Then, he began to put together a list of items that he wanted for his room. A Bird of paradise, a Echinopsis cactus, and a Spineless yucca palm tree to remind him of the places that he visited on Earth. Then, he wanted to get two vid-frames so he could use one as a window while the other one could be used to watch the news or films. And finally, he also added in some datapads on human, krogan, and turian history in warfare, politics, and religion. He brought some datapads about asari religion but their religions didn't match with Rol'Naaris' personality. Before he finished, he added in an antique cannon brass statue with wheels on them made during the Victorian era by the British to put on his office desk. Those things were going to cost a lot of credits; however, Rol'Naaris checked his balance and he had enough to pay those items.

Then, his onmi-tool went off and quickly shut off as Rol'Naaris grabbed the datapad and left his room. He searched for Relli, the procurement specialist, and found him in the cargo bay. Rol'Naaris handed him the list and told him, "Here's the list of things that I wish to have from my room."

Relli grabbed the datapad and took a look at it for a moment. "Everything seems to be alright. It will take some time before I give you the price tag. Come see once today's mission is done." the salarian said, giving the datapad back to Rol'Naaris. He thanked Relli before going back to room to workout some more. After a few hours, he entered the hanger for a briefing about the mission. The quarain stood near the front as Aegon started the meeting. There were hostages inside the castle while the crowd was growing restless. Apparently, both Cerberus and Terra Firma wanted the crowd to start a riot so they could kill everyone in the area. Rol'Naaris was placed on the hostage team among with other crew members.

When everyone else had asked their questions, Rol'Naaris started to ask them. "How many hostages are inside the castle? Do we know the layout and how old is the castle? And how many enemies are inside the castle?"

-These events occurred moments after the tour of the ship.

---

Giles was surprised at just how much his comrades had been getting up to in their spare time, within 24 hours the Asari - Vella had successfully managed to breakdown relations between humanity and the Asari a bit further - it was actually impressive just how inept someone could be especially given that she was been assigned to a Spectre group; her time here would be incredibly short if she did soemthing like that again.

Things didn't really improve either, when the standoff between a N7 operative and the Spectres occurred, or which Giles merely stood behind the Krogan for the event of it, pointless being shot over an argument of who has the bigger balls.

No shots were fired however, despite that this would remain a problem down the line, just one of many that was quickly becoming an extensive list.

The tour of their new home proved that the Spectres were serious about this, they seemed to have someone for everything, of course Giles had to participate in mandatory weekly sessions for counselling.... Something that wasn't needed nor would it help, the Artist appeared whenever he felt like it, or without rhyme or reason - Giles didn't know, he merely dealt with it as best he could; some Asari he's never met before will not answer the problem he has had for over 30 years.

But if it will keep Aegon from bursting a blood vessel again, it would probably be for the best, the only condition he will impose upon Aegon is making sure he never had to share the room with that tin can Ellis, otherwise everything would be fine.

The tour ended after about 10 minutes, and Giles knew he would have to do a few things and talk with a few of them to get his affairs set in order - may as well head down to the Req officer/smuggler by the way he acted.
But chances are smuggling would be needed for some of the things Giles would request.

It didn't take long for him to make it to the cargo bay where the Req officer was located, it was from an odd race that Giles had never seen before and it was called Relli or something similar to that.
Approaching Relli, Giles offered his hand out as a form of greeting " You're the Req officer aren't you? There's a couple of things I need to ask for you to...."acquire" I also have a couple of forms that would need signing by you and one of the Spectres that allows some shipments to made onto the ship every time we stop off at a major port, they're typically for my personal use but very improtant."

Relli smirked as he tapped away at a datapad, not bothering to look over at the Drell, "Requisitions officer is a bit formal, but I suppose you could call me that. Relli is just fine however. As for business... well I'm always open for that. What do you need? My prices are flexible, depending on all kinds of factors. But if you have the credits, I've got it or I can get it."

Relli looked at the form, pulling it up on a datapad, "And what would these be? Need cream to get your scales buffed?"

Giles retracted his hand before replying " I hear rubbing Red sand on scales causes irritation, so no that's not what I'm using it for, I need it for my medication, amongst other things, I also sell some of the stuff to people who think they can be biotic because of it - mitigates some of the losses I make. Other than those forms, I'll need another combat suit, Kahje sells some specially designed for Drell operatives, it should cost a bit but credits is something I have enough of, I'll also need universal grenade and mine templates, 300 of each should do."
Given a quick glance around the cargo hold Giles stated further "Also, if you can get your hands on a M-920 Cain... I'd happily give you anything you want, within the realm of reason."

Relli's eyebrow subtly twitched and a ghost of a shadow graced his features before he said, "Well, now you're talking. For the armament. It'll be no big problem. Hardsuit, mine and grenade templates. That'll be standard fees plus the shipping. Mmm say around a two thousand for the suit and a thousand for all of your explosives. I can take it in credit too. I also take fair exchange in barter and favor."

Relli stroked his chin, "As for a Cain. Well, I have some contacts in the Alliance who can get me one. I'll throw that in with the rest. If you agree to run a small errand for me." Relli smiled, the gears turning in his head.

"But Red Sand.... of course I know dealers. But I have to ask what this is for exactly. The boss might get mad if I start moving narcotics through his ship."

Giles couldn't help but smile, he liked this Relli, business sense of a Volus but without the wheezing and self-superiority.
" 3,000 is a good price for that, I'll happily pay in credits, in terms of the red sand, as I said, I need it for my medication, I'm planning on talking with Aegon later, I'll tell him about that myself, of course, in terms of if I distribute any of it, it will not be to anyone on the ship - human saying of "don't shit on your own lawn" comes to mind, it will be at any hub we stop off at, if I have any spare."

Gilvert gave a small forwn before continuing. " What's this errand? It's got to be something substantial if you're willing to throw a free Cain in for it, that's not typically something you just throw in a deal of 3,000 credits when the ammo for it costs more than that..."

Relli smiled and said, "As for the favor, it's a small matter with a contact in the London Shantytown. He's a small time guy like me, but the local human gangs are trying to muscle in on his trade. Trying to squeeze him out.That neighbourhood depends on a lot of the goods he brings in. But the humans want to extort them and squeeze them out of every spare credit they have. All I need from you is for you take care of those guys. No need for violence, just make sure my contact isn't getting anymore abuse. Do that and the Cain is yours, as well as the first few power cells. Reloads are going to be a thousand a pack from then on. Sound fair?"

Relli leaned against a crate, "Boss, doesn't much like Sand trading. I just don't know if he would go for it. I say take it up with him. And maybe Koriandr, the doc, can figure out a Sand-free alternative for your... condition. It's not up to me ultimately. I'll just tell Aegon what's going on."

Simple he says.... it's never simple, getting shook like a rag-doll by Aegon is the best case scenario if it's discovered that an alien killed a bunch of down on their luck humans, just another case against Aliens on earth by the likes of Cerebrus and the other shit head organisation that is seemingly aligned with them.
Giles couldn't turn this opportunity down, but he'd have to take great care when he did it, thankfully his assassin training ought to be useful here.
"Consider it done, I'll wire the credits to you later today, and I'll speak with the doc as you suggested, although I doubt much will come from it. Thanks for your time Relli, it's been quite the pleasure."

Relli smiled, reaching out a hand to shake Giles to seal the deal, "Any time Giles. Likewise. And much more importantly. It's been profitable."

Aegon sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed, palms of his hands resting on his knees. Erinna swore by meditation and Aegon thought there was a certain calm to the exercise. Aegon breathed in and out, and tried his best to empty his mind. But there was simply too much to be concerned about.

The knock on his door was actually a relief. Aegon keyed his omni-tool and let the door open, standing straight and pulling on a robe to cover his bare torso. Aegon gestured to Giles, "Giles. Please come in. Drink?" Aegon gestured to a nearby wetbar before pouring himself a glass.

Giles shook Relli's hand to secure the deal and left the cargo bay, he have to prepare later to deal with that "favour" but for now he needed to talk with Aegon.
A few minutes later and Giles was stood outside the Spectres personal quarters, Aegon answered his knocks by opening the door remotely.
The spectres room was quite spacious, and contained what a fairly aged Turian with a life time of military experience would normally have in their room, otherwise it was quite sleek and designed well, it also had a touch of defensive construct, if it were under siege, there was plenty of cover- basically Turian design in a nutshell.

Aegon offered Giles a drink as he entered, something he couldn't refuse.
"That would be nice, thank you. Dealers choice."
Giles felt the need to be formal here, almost assuming a military stance of attention, Aegon seemed to deserve that respect at the very least from the likes of a person like Gilvert.
"There's a couple of things I needed to discuss with you, sir... Gods that term sounded foreign on his tongue, he hadn't said that since he was back home with his parents.
"It's probably been a stressful day for you, but it's best dealt with sooner rather than later."

Aegon was bemused by Giles decorum but didn't complain and poured Giles a glass of wine. He handed it to the Drell and nodded, "You're right. Best to get this resolved. So let's get down to it. Explain this medicine. Why Red Sand? How does it help?"

Giles accepted the glass and gave a nod of the head as thanks, a deep red with a rich smell, a small sip gave Giles the thought that it was a fine vintage, not too sweet and a bit dry, a nice balance, Aegon clearly knew his drinks, something Giles could respect.
But the fact that he already knew about the red sand took him by surprise, Relli didn't wait on ceremony to forward that information.
" I've been using it in my medicine for the past 8 years, not a lot, and not enough to really get it's actual effects from it that the drug is known for, but ever since I started using it in my meds it's lowered the chances of the artist appearing far better than when I had been using medication without it in, I'd say it lowers the chances of him appearing by 33% if to give it a figure, lowering that risk is paramount I'd say, not using Red sand only increases that risk.

Aegon listened, considering, "I suppose it would be something within the chemical composition that reduces the effects. But you do realise that while it may be effective at curtailing your other friend... the compounded intake of Red Sand may still have unforeseen side effects. Even if you don't take enough to get a high. Ingesting the stuff is still a risk. I believe a long-term goal should be finding a way to replace Red Sand for your medicine. I'll put Nola on it. Red Sand is toxic. There's no telling what it can do to you if you continue.

The Turian turned considering something, "As for your other trade... I don't know if I can sanction it. Weapons are one thing. Intel is one thing. But this galaxy doesn't need more addicts. I've seen the effects of the trade. I can't stop you from selling anything you might have to other pushers, but I can eliminate the need for it. For the nonce, I'll have confiscated stashes of Sand, only enough for your personal use and for Nola's research, transferred to the ship. And you can use it for your medicine until we find an alternative. Agreed?"

The offer Aegon proposed seemed the best of both worlds really, impossible to turn it down without seeming unreasonable.
" Sounds good to me... sir. On the topic of "my friend" as you put it, there's probably some counter measures we should hash out should he surface, I'd typically prefer to stay alive, obviously, so is there any information you'd like on his... methods and mannerisms?

Aegon nodded, sipping from his drink and leaning back on the corner of his desk as he said, "Yes. First and foremost, what are his priorities? What is his methodology? Does he recognise friend or foe? How long do these episodes last? What are the primary catalysts for the change? Anything and everything you think could be relevant.

Giles shifted his position slightly before speaking. "I can't speak for him, all I can do is make educated guesses at his motivations, I can't remember anything from an episode so everything I say will be second hand or what I can discern from surveillance that has caught his actions."

Taking a more liberal sip from the wine, Giles began explaining who the Artist was.
" The Artist only seeks one thing, to remove the imperfections from the Galaxy, he views everything as a dull blank piece of paper; an empty canvas begging for someone to fill it with bright and varied colours- his name didn't come from his colourful personality, it came from the fact that he can be the only person capable to paint the blank canvas, in reds, blues, purples and greens.... you'll note that these colours are all different colours of blood in various races, well that is his paint, typically he will try and make the kill as messy as possible, and if he has the time and luxury he will draw out a death as long as possible, to paint his canvas carefully and slowly - he's reckless and psychopathic and doesn't know anything of teamwork, there is his paints and then his audience, every painting to him needs an audience, I think the reasoning behind that was that art needs to be admired, otherwise there's no point in it...
He can distinguish between friend and foe, if just barely, no matter how close I am to an individual if they get in his way or obstruct him of his work, he will be swift and ruthless in removing them, I remember my old merc group saying that sometimes he won't touch certain people instead he simply states in a wistful and intimidating manner that he will save them for the right painting - if he ever says that to someone on this ship I recommend keeping a close eye on them whenever the Artist makes an appearance, who knows when it's their time to face his brush.
Otherwise the rule of thumb is that anyone he see's before he begins his performance is his "audience" after he states that he will begin his painting, anyone he see's will be regarded as his enemy; it was easy to handle back in the Merc band, we always stuck together without ever needing to split into two teams, if that occurs before the Artist appears, it would pay well to keep the teams separate or to try and make sure everyone is present before he begins the performance - its a slight logistical restriction that could be hurtful down the line, but it's better than having someone firing explosive Widow rounds at you.

Giles took another sip before continuing

There have been occasions where the Artist doesn't actually attempt to paint, but this really only occurs when his "brush" aka My sniper rifle, is not on his person or nearby, or when there doesn't appear to be any form of fighting nearby, think of him a bit like a predator, the spill of blood triggers him to move, for once a painting begins, he won't stop till it's finished - which brings us on to time, it can last anywhere from 10 minutes to 4 hours, typically the episode ends when he finishes a painting, but an episode has never lasted longer than 4 hours and 20 minutes.
What causes the change is difficult to discern, typically the artist appears before combat or in the preparation stages; it's never occurred mid-combat before, the only reason I can think for that is the Artist won't bother with work that is not his own, I'm not sure. Otherwise a number of different factors can make him appear, namely extreme stress, high levels of emotion, not taking my medication and not having an episode in a long time can increase the likely hood of one occurring.
Other than that he is highly intelligent, unforgiving, violent, psychopathic, oddly enough very caring as well, he can jump between the ends of the spectrum at times; also he will listen to orders, but it's better to try see the situation from his eyes and try to coerce him to do something as if it will benefit him, Vartak the Krogan warlord who lead the merc squad was really good at that, trial and error is something this will take, I just hope it doesn't cost someone their life, or indeed my own life to discover it.

Giles gave a sigh before taking another drink, leaving his glass nearly empty.
"That's all I can really say about him, I hope it's enough to get a picture of how he works... I have to say, I'm surprised you picked me, not that I'm not grateful, it's good to try and fix the problems of the galaxy, feels redeeming after the life I've lead, but still, I wasn't aware I was worth the risk, I hope I still am."

Aegon didn't say anything for some time as he nursed his glass. Finally he spoke up, "I understand. I already have a dossier built on you and your alter ego. But it paid to hear it from your perspective. I'll make sure that every person on this ship is appraised of the situation with your artist. And we'll take all the precautions we can to keep him out of the picture. And if he does appear, we'll take measures to protect ourselves. You were an asset, a good one in your day. And your artist may be a monster, but sometimes we might need a monster. But if it comes down to the wire, you should know I absolutely will not hesitate to put the Artist down if I have to. Do you understand?"

In the end, Giles knew that was the line Aegon would take, he just hoped that it would take a fair bit to surpass that line.
"Understood Sir, is there anything else you'd like to discuss, or is there anything you need to ask me?

Aegon pondered that for a moment before replying, "No need to call me sir. You're not beholden to military decorum any longer. And I believe that's all I have to talk with you about. You may take your leave." Aegon nodded at Giles and sat down at his desk, finishing off the glass before booting up the haptic display at his desktop.

Giles finished his wine and placed the empty glass on a nearby table and sated " Thank you for the drink, you have fine taste If I may say so, Aegon." Without waiting for a reply Giles bowed his head slightly as a goodbye and left the room.
He wasn't entirely aware why he acted like he did when he was in that room - instinct seemed to take over a bit, but Aegon seemed to radiate authority, Giles acted in a very simlar way when he was ever present with Aria T'Loak, at least for the first couple of years before he got to know her a bit better.
Not all authority figures actually elicited authority in their subjects, but Aegon was definitely one of them - a natural born leader.

Giles had one final stop to make before he would retire for a while, it was with the Asari councillor, it seemed that he was going to become very familiar with her, so may as well get the introductions out of the way with.

Konare was reading a book when she saw Giles enter. She smiled and stood, reaching out a hand in greeting,"Oh you must be Giles.I'm pleased to meet you. What can I do for you today?"

It didn't take long to get to his final stop, as he entered the room the Asari, Konare lightly placed the book she was reading down and made her way over to him, she was kind and eloquent in her speech and extended her hand as a greeting - something Giles returned as he spoke. " It's a pleasure to meet you to, Konare - I figured I'd stop by to get to know you a bit, since we will be doing this quite a lot from what Aegon has stated; don't know what our weekly sessions will include since I've never had "therapy" if that's what you plan on calling it?
Giles was slightly nervous about this, he's dealt with the Artist and his "condition" (although Giles never perceived it to be any form of mental illness of the sort, just merely the way he was) in his own way for the majority of his life - he wasn't sure if Konare could actually help him.

Konare spread her hands in a conciliatory gesture, "I've read your file and I'm aware of your condition, but I won't really know how to proceed until we start having sessions. I like to get to know my patients first, to see who they are beyond the pages before I start thinking about how to help. And that's what I want to do, help you Giles. I can tell you're nervous but there's no need to be. Our first session will purely be conversation and I'll never do anything that will endanger you in any way. If you don't want to talk about something, we won't talk about it. And everything is completely confidential. If you just need someone to talk to, that's what I can do. My first concern here is your personal well-being and I'll do everything I can to assure it."

Giles listened attentively to what she said, once again the prospect of someone actually caring for his wellbeing was a bit disconcerting.
"So that's it? The sessions are basically just a friendly chat? No offence but that doesn't sound like it will help my "condition", if at all."

Konare replied, "As I said, I won't know exactly how I can help until I get to know you better. But even then, I'm not one of those doctors who believes in drastic measures. I've trained with Siarists, with doctors, and with the Consort. I've been doing this for centuries and there is little I haven't seen. I am confident that together we will be able to work through your issues."

Giles nodded slightly in response "Well, I've long accepted that the Artist is apart of who I am, but I won't turn down anyone who think they can help me; I must warn you though, there may be an occasion where you meet him yourself, that will probably aid you in how to help, but also it could be very dangerous, I cannot speak for the artist or his motivations, I can only guess as to what he wants."

Konare nodded, "It might be incredibly useful if I ever do get a chance to talk to this artist of yours. It could go a long way towards alleviating your condition. But I do know the danger. Rest assured, we have taken precautions, you won't have to worry about me Giles. Now do you have anything else you wish to ask me?"

Precautions.... seems like something Giles should know about, the Turian didn't enlighten him on this either... probably best of he didn't know quite frankly, so long as it wasn't a Talon to his shin, it probably wouldn't be to excessive.
"Only that you don't put me in the same session as that abomination, the "ex" cerberus guy, otherwise that's everything, thanks Konare."
Giles turned from her after giving a small nod of the head and left the room.