Opening Theme.

“Is this really the best you could arrange?”

“Are you… dissatisfied with our choices?”

“No, but… a krogan? A vorcha? A gods-damned quarian? And a turian whose own government wants her dead?”

“They are all highly qualified specialists, and our analysts have deemed them easily motivated – each in their own way. And I will take the liberty of reminding you that you yourself have deemed using non-Council races and individuals with dubious reputations prudent given the nature of…”

“I get it. No need to go on about this. Life is short.”

“And getting shorter. Did you have any specific qualms?”

“The vorcha. He seems like an exceptional member of his species, but with his third-rate equipment and lack of formal training, is he really good enough for Project Viper?”

“We wouldn’t make a deal with him if he wasn’t. Vorcha are more short-lived than salarians, and compensate by being even quicker learners. Whatever his inadequacies at the moment, we expect him to rapidly adapt to his new circumstances.”

“Or die trying. And what about his exorbitant demands?”

“Just leave that part to us. Anything else?”

“The quarian. He seems erratic and antisocial, not to mention insanely obsessive…”

“Quite unlike anyone I know.”

“Eat an egg. Are you sure he will be able to work in a team?”

“So long as it brings him closer to his goal, why not? Most of our assessments say he’s a sociopath, liable to treat his fellow organics as tools rather than people, but that may not be such a disadvantage in this case…”

“Hmm. And the turian? I remember the reports. If those are true, she seems rather… untrustworthy.”

“She is definitely worth keeping an eye on, but for the moment, our analysts predict she’ll play along. It’s that or the likelihood of death, after all, and she’s a fighter – I don’t think she is ready to lie down and die on someone else’s terms just yet.”

“I hope you’re right. Gods damn it. How is it that the krogan is the reliable one in the group?”

“He is a very unusual krogan. Professional, level-headed. And his experience is an undeniable edge. I will repeat our analysts’ recommendation…”

“That wasn’t a question. And I remember their recommendation. I’ll think on it. Our new recruits should be here soon and I still have some arrangements that need taking care of. Life is short and getting shorter. I will speak to you later.”

---

Omega.

The heart of evil. The place of secrets. The land of opportunity. The gigantic, ancient mining station where laws and regulations come to die – except for the oldest and surest law of all, the rule of the strong. Aria T’Loak, the Pirate Queen of Omega, holds court in the Afterlife, but your business today is not with her, and the nightclub is far away from the middle class apartment district in which you find yourself now.

It may seem odd that a group supposedly working for the Citadel Council would invite you here, to the Citadel’s antithesis. Or maybe not so odd – from the way it was described to you, the business involved appears to be of a highly confidential, perhaps even legally dubious nature. Small businessmen and interstellar governments alike know there are few places better suited for clandestine and illegal dealings than Omega. And while ordinary and untrained people’s eyes are on the flashy nightclubs, noisy markets and violent slums, some of the most important business goes down in places like this. Perhaps your employers are simply being shrewd.

Actually, the district is not that different from the rest of Omega. It is somewhat cleaner and more subdued, but only just so. The marketplace is not that far, and some of the noise from there reaches you at the entrance to the district. The lighting is haphazard and irregular at best – and you get the feeling the residents like it that way. There are clear signs of disrepair… although just from looking at the doors, you can see some of the apartments here are better maintained than the others. While a small detail of Blue Suns mercenaries stands watch at the entrance to the district, they don’t seem overly concerned with people coming and going (though a vorcha going in does give them a moment of pause) – and there are none further inside.

You encounter few people as you progress deeper into the district. The residents prefer to stay indoors or be as far away from their homes as possible. The few that you do catch out in the open tend to be in a hurry, not sparing you a second glance. Compared to the station as a whole, this district’s demographics seem somewhat tilted towards Council races, mainly turians and salarians, though you do spot a few batarians as well, and even a human and a drell.

Finally, you arrive at your destination – the large, unmarked apartment at the very end of one of the district’s numerous side-corridors, with a sturdy looking fortified door and two turian guards who do not seem to belong to any mercenary group you know of. From the look in their eyes, it would seem they know you are expected. Even so, it is not until the other three of the new hires show up that the door swings open and an unusually tall, hulking, bare-faced turian in heavy dark gray armour steps out. “You’re here about the offer?” he asks in a gruff, deep voice, and then continues without waiting for the answer: “Go on in. The Director is waiting.”

"This better not be a trap" Vayex thought to himself as he stepped off the ship. This was Vayexs' first time on Omega since the shit hit the fan what seemed like an eternity ago when he decided to go against his superiors orders and warn Aria T'Loak of an incoming attack, saving her life and forever changing his. As he thought about it more, Vayex realised he hadn't heard from Aria in a while. "Oh, this had really better not be a trap or I am going to be pissed" Vayex thought, this time aloud. Nobody noticed or cared. Probably because Omega isn't like any other planet.

Vayex checked the directions that were given to him. He looked up to see he was in the middle-class apartment district. Somewhat surprised, Vayex shrugged his shoulders and carried on. He didn't like being back on Omega and he didn't know why he was here. All he knew was somebody from the Council wanted him for something called "Project Viper" and made him an offer he couldn't refuse; a chance to put Ganar Wrang down for good...but at a price. He had to "run a simple errand that is suited for someone of your skillset" is what the message said. He was promised that if it all went well, his path would cross with Wrangs. Not only that but he was offered more credits than he had earned the whole time he was in the Blood Pack and like it is for all Krogans, credits talk.

Vayex is walking down what seems like infinite corridors, his trusty Varren, Chomp at his side, until he finally reaches a dead-end. An unmarked door stands before him. "This must be the place." Vayex reaches out to knock on the door with his other hand on the trigger of his pistol when the door opens slightly and a voice asks "You here about the offer?" Vayex hesitates before answering. "So this is legit?" No answer. Vayex goes to push the door open when the voice says "wait outside for the others." Vayex sat and waited, gun at the ready.

The picture that greets you on the other side of the door is deceptively simple, at first glance. A comfortably large and well-furnished apartment – brightly lit in contrast to the district outside – converted into a respectable-seeming, but not particularly noteworthy office. Beds and some other amenities have been removed to make way for a large and intricate computer terminal (perhaps the most conspicuous element in this room), but there is no shortage of chairs and tables; there is also a small physical library on the left side and a bar on the right.

In addition to the two you saw standing outside and the big turian who led you in and now stood back and glowered with suspicion, there are two more turian bodyguards standing watch on both sides of the long, narrow desk that separates you from your apparent employer. Needless to say, by Omega standards employing five well-armed turian guards is if anything rather modest for a successful businessman, and fewer than one might like to have on hand when meeting four armed and dangerous mercenaries. Either those Citadel agents are very keen on flying under the radar or there is more to this office than meets the eye – probably both.

While the turians provide the security detail, it is perhaps no great surprise to anyone who knows how the Council races prefer to distribute their duties among themselves that the rest of the office’s residents are all salarians. There are three of those. The scrawny, gray-skinned salarian in light armour was sitting at the terminal when you came in, and did not even seem to notice your arrival, being wholly immersed in his work; from his odd hand movements and unblinking eyes, the more perceptive and experienced of you would surmise that he was currently interacting with some sort of cybernetic interface. The remaining two salarians are behind the desk, and both have bluish violet skin with darker spots in the upper part of their respective heads, towards the horns. Indeed, they look quite similar to each other at first glance – except for the drastic differences in their manner of bearing. While one of them, likewise dressed in light armour, is standing at the back of the desk and to the left with his arms crossed, examining the four new arrivals with unmistakable skepticism, the other one wears a black and white business suit and sits in the rotating chair right behind the desk. His hands are folded together and for a moment you think you see a rather world-weary expression on his face. Walking closer you can see the faint traces of old scars on its left side.

As you approach, the salarian in the chair reaches for a small plastic bottle, opens it and deftly removes a round white pill, placing it in his mouth. A few moments pass before his eyes light up, a light, wry smile appears on face and the salarian straightens up, examining the lot of you. “Welcome,” he says, as the door closes firmly behind you. “I am the Director of Project Viper. You may call me Director Aparakis. You don’t need to introduce yourselves; life is short, and I already studied your dossiers.” He speaks quickly, maybe a bit more quickly than the average salarian, but his voice is strong and clear.

“They might want to introduce themselves to each other, though,” the other blue salarian chips in. “They look like they never met each other. Are you sure they’d work together as a team?”

The Director gives him a chilly look for half a second, then looks back towards you. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other. Now, first of all, we need to finalise our agreement. I trust that the recruiting agents who gave you the terms of your employment have explained what sort of work we expect you to do for Project Viper. That being said, I would prefer to be absolutely certain that there would be no misunderstandings before I give you your first task. Do you have any questions? Anything I could clarify, perhaps?” While his words are courteous, the way his eyes flit back and forth between the four of you betrays his impatience.

Ruav'Tor was less than satisfied with his travel accommodations, to say the least. Dark, cramped, and positively riddled with sharp protrusions just waiting to tear a hole in his environmental suit.

Part of him suspected that his employers har made the arrangement on purpose. Intentionally stuck him on a piece of scrap tub so that he would harbor no interest in claiming it as his own. The bastards were clever.

When he finally reached the predetermined meeting point, irritated and cramped from his long, uncomfortable ride as a stowaway, he was surprised to see a krogan waiting there.

"Interesting..." Ruav whispered, looking at key points of the krogan's facial structure, setting pinpoints in a program installed in his suit. After a few moments, during which time he had tracked a mass of anchor points over the beings features.

"Aaand... Saved..." He said, stepping forward as he cleared his visor to get a better view. He approached the meeting point cautiously, making very sure not to appear threatening.

"I assume you're here for the same reasons I am?" Ruav said, turning to look at the turian guards at the door.

Soon enough, the door opened, and the group that had assembled was taken inside. He immediately took a video capture of the area and stored it within various redundant storage drives. It wasn't necessarily for any nefarious purposes. But he did like the layout, and might want to implement a similar design in some of his ships.

Leryn Valos eyed up the group she stood alongside. One was a krogan with a dark green color but uniquely bright red stripes, as well as a pet varren. Another was a quarian, tall, lean, and wore tan armor that bore a symbol that the turian did not recognize. The other member, probably the most unique of the bunch, was a purple-skinned vorcha, shirtless, tattooed, and as uncivilized-looking as the rest of them. Leryn thought this bunch belonged in a travelling circus instead of a mercenary band.

Before Leryn could vocalize her thoughts, probably into something incredibly xenophobic, the door in front of the four swung open.

“Go on, the director is waiting.”

Two turian bodyguards and then a third at the door. Three salarians busy at work and then another two at a desk on the other end of the room. Otherwise normal, which was worrisome in its own right. Leryn figured that she could probably kill all four of those turians and those five salarians without issue. Likewise, if these other operatives were at least half as skilled as she was, they could probably do the same.

One of the salarians introduced himself as the director and began speaking.

Leryn still felt apprehensive about the whole ordeal, but considering how elaborate the whole setup was, she doubted that it was a ruse. After all, why not just sent assassins if they wanted her dead? Why bother with something so complicated? The turian figured that this organization needed her (preferably alive) more than she needed it, though, for what purpose, she wasn’t entirely sure. Still, she knew that it was a means to an end, and that was all that was really important. If this was some kind of trap, she felt confident that she could fight her way out, just like all the others. If not, she would have her opportunity to return to Citadel Space and put some holes in certain turian officials.

"No questions." She answered flatly.

It didn't take long for others to arrive. First was a Vorcha who literally said nothing. Vayex just nodded his head. Next up was a Quarian who stared at Vayex for a good minute before finally saying something.

Vayex was asked by the Quarian if he was here for the same reason as he. "I guess so" Vayex answered bluntly.

Out of nowhere, Chomp started growling. Vayex looked over to see who Chomp was growling at. "Oh, that's just f**king great" Vayex says under his breath as a Turian approaches. Before any kind of confrontation could happen, the door swung open. "Go on inside. The director is waiting" one of the Turian bodyguards started to say. "And that mangy creature waits outside." Vayex pushed past the turian bodyguard. "No dice, Cuttlebone. And I know you aren't going to do anything because somebody higher up than you needs me." Vayex carried on walking. "Come on Chomp!"

Checking his surroundings, Vayex actually became a little more at ease with the number of salarians. Ganar Wrang didn't like salarians so Vayex figured this probably wasn't a trap. The director introduced himself, spoke really quickly about something that Vayex wasn't listening to and then asked if anybody had any questions.

"Just one" Vayex started. "When do I get to kill Wrang?"

Although the turian guards are understandably apprehensive about Vayex’s varren, the krogan is right – they could only glower in irritation as the fishdog follows its master into the room. The big turian shakes his head slowly, and does not take his eyes off Chomp since then.

“Taciturn bunch, aren’t you?” Director Aparakis muses after the turian’s response. “Good, I suppose. We didn’t hire you to talk, for the most part.” His eyes flit towards Vayex after the krogan speaks. “I’ll get to that in a moment, Mr. Quash. Rest assured, I’ve been informed of that part of our arrangement. First, though, there is something that I must make absolutely clear.” He pops another pill into his mouth, while the other salarian behind him holds his hand to his face and shakes his head in a universal gesture of exasperation.

Leaning in a bit closer over his narrow desk, the salarian Director looks the four of you over again as he talks: “I don’t know what my recruiting agents might have implied to you or what you might be thinking. But you are not Council agents. You are not Spectres. You are mercenaries who were hired to take care of some matters by a wealthy and well-connected employer, who can help you in return so long as you follow his instructions and defend his interests. As far as you should care, this is just another mercenary job. And the same goes double for anyone who asks. You have no official authority, and you may not reveal your arrangement with Project Viper to anyone else.” He glances at the krogan again. “I trust this shouldn’t be an unfamiliar concept for you,” he says, addressing both him and the other mercenaries.

“And now, let’s get down to business.” The Director swallows another pill, smiles and heads towards the computer terminal, wobbling slightly as he does.

His salarian aide looks at you for a bit longer and shakes his head slightly. “He’s always like that,” the aide informs you. “I am his clutchmate, Velmet Mekelu. His secretary and… errand boy, I suppose. The big guy is Domitar Avakinius,” he glances at the turian, who ignores him. “And the one who’s stuck to the computer is Gavril Wiras; he’ll be providing you with mission control and technical information. We’ll be working together from now on, if all goes well.” And with that snappy introduction, he goes to rejoin his superior at a holographic map of the galaxy that sprung up on next to the terminal.

Evidently either oblivious or indifferent as to Mekelu’s efforts at an introduction, Aparakis stands near the map with his omnitool at ready. He presses a button to bring up a somewhat intricate rotating holographic symbol over the galaxy map, in an eye-catching red. “Your first assignment is dealing with a certain criminal cartel that’s been causing Citadel authorities some problems in the last few months. We know them simply as the Void Network, though they may also go by different names. It’s a coalition of mercenaries, pirates, smugglers, raiders, slavers – and, we suspect, a number of ‘legitimate’ corporations and Terminus planetary governments as well,” Aparakis begins, finger-quoting ‘legitimate’. “A fairly loose alliance, but… surprisingly good at keeping its secrets,” he continues, with a hint of irritation in his voice. “They’ve been dabbling pretty heavily in smuggling things to Citadel Space since they first appeared on the scene. Not as many slaves or drugs as you’d expect, though they deal in those too. Instead they seem to focus on illegal technology, modified weapons… and Prothean artifacts. We suspect they have considerable contacts within the black archeology market.”

“All of this is bad enough, but recently we’ve also managed to link them to a series of terrorist attacks in Citadel Space.” A number of small red circles pop up on the galaxy map. Leryn, if you look closely, you soon realise that most, if not all of the attack sites are turian or volus colonies: Taetrus, Aephus, Talis Fia… “They didn’t carry those attacks out directly, as far as we could tell, but they provided extensive assistance to the people who did. Obviously the Council could not ignore them after that – though if you ask me, they seem to have been more concerned about the artifacts. Be that as it may, they started an investigation, trying to either eliminate the group or at least shut down its smuggling routes.” The attack sites fade, a slightly bigger blue circle emerging around the Citadel.

For a moment, you see the hint of a gleeful smile on Aparakis’ face, as he continues: “But neither C-Sec nor the Spectres' measures saw any real success! They shut down some specific operations and trading posts, arrested or killed some of their more visible confederates. But the Void Network remained both intact and profitable; they simply relocated their operations to different spots on different planets, improved their encryption protocols and brutally executed a number of informants in their ranks.” Aparakis pauses and rubs his chin, for a moment apprehensive. “In fact, I strongly suspect they must have had some help from inside C-Sec, or maybe even the Spectres. Be that as it may, all efforts to shut this cartel down via the Council’s usual means have been frustrated, and so it has been decided to attempt to deal with the Network from the opposite end, so to speak.” The blue circle around the Citadel fades, just as a green one emerges around Omega.

“My own agents have been gathering information on the Void Network in secret, separately from C-Sec. They worked cautiously, and so avoided exposure or retaliation, though as a trade-off their progress has been somewhat… slow.” The Director frowns, then swallows another pill. “Until today, that is. I’ve learned that within two hours, the Void Network’s operatives are going to carry out a highly important, top secret transaction here on this station.” The galaxy map and the Void Network symbol both fade, giving way to a holographic schematic of Omega. Aparakis highlights a particular area less than halfway down Omega’s metallic stem. “It is going to happen in a half-abandoned slum district. Blue Suns territory, technically. But as an added precaution…” the salarian pauses and glances at the krogan. “They decided to hire the Blood Pack as security.”

He waits a moment for that to sink in, then finishes: “I need you to intrude on this transaction. Deal with their two outer layers of mercenaries as you see fit, but be careful with the Void Network operatives and the people they are meeting with if you could. I would greatly appreciate it if you could bring one or two of them back alive. Aside from that, I want you to secure the merchandise and their ship if possible, and learn as much as possible about this transaction, the Network, its operations here… and where they were planning to go after this meeting. Now do you have any questions?”

Vayex nods and then turns to the rest of the team. "Now, going in guns blazing won't work here. As good as I assume you all are, and I know I am, we will be no match for the Blood Pack and Blue Suns head on. Wrang only recruits the best so we are going to need another way in." Vayex turns back to Aparakis. "Hey Pills, is there any ways in where we won't get noticed? Or somewhere where we can have a sniper?" Vayex then turns to the Quarian. "Suits, you any good at hacking security systems?"

Vayex then takes a breath and turns to the Vorcha and the Turian. "In fact, what can you guys do, apart from sabotaging a whole race" Vayex says as he glares at the Turian. "I never got your name Turian and I don't want it. You stay out of my way and we will get along fine."

Leyrn had no questions. Void Network. Blue Suns. Blood Pack. Omega. Seemed straight forward enough, at least as far as infiltration went. However, the turian felt uncomfortable with how the salarian described the Void Network, “Void Network […] a coalition of mercenaries, pirates, smugglers, raiders, slavers, and, we suspect, a number of legitimate corporations and Terminus planetary governments, as well. […] Illegal technology, modified weapons… and Prothean artifacts.”

“An intergalactic crime syndicate?” She pondered. “Interested in illegal technology, modified weapons, and Protheon artifacts?”

The vanguard frowned.

On one hand, alliances between governments and mercenary groups weren’t all that uncommon. In fact, these kinds of backroom dealings exited as long as governments have. On the other hand, however, alliances between corporations, governments, and mercenary groups who are all interested in illegal technology, modified weapons, and lost technologies sounded suspicious, to say the very least. Plus, considering this “Project Viper” was especially interested in the Void Network, who, as Aparakis also described, “[…] must have had some help from inside C-Sec, or maybe even the Spectres […]”, it all spelled out something legitimately troubling.

While Leryn had no particular interest in bringing peace to the Terminus Systems or securing the Citadel’s dominance over the rest of the galaxy, she felt that a crime network this large with so many connections, especially connections within the Citadel, was, again, troublesome.

“No questions.” She finally articulated.

Mission now. Details later. In fact, she thought it was probably best to leave the details to these salarians. Let them spend their limited time figuring out the logistics and leave the dirty work to her and…

“In fact, what can you guys do, apart from sabotaging a whole race?” The krogan spoke up, glaring at her. “I never got your name, turian, and I don’t want it. You stay out of my way, and we will get along fine.”

Leryn hated krogans almost as much as she hated asari.

Her eye twitched again, and she retorted. “What can I do? Do you know that plate on top of your head? My specialty is removing it with my bare hands and giving it to somebody as a trophy to whoever pays me enough.”

Vayex got in Leryns face and Chomp started growling. "You've got a real quad Turian. If I didn't hate your kind so much, I might respect you. But I've killed plenty of your kind. Threaten me again and you will be added to that tally without a second thought."

“Pills?” Aparakis asks, confused, while his brother looks on in quiet desperation at the krogan-turian face-off. The Director then shrugs and turns towards the hologram again. “Wiras, be so kind as to bring up the district schematics.” The gray salarian complies in silence.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Mekelu asks in the meantime, looking at Vayex and then at Leryn. “Quarrel if you like, but if it makes you compromise the mission, we’ll consider it a breach of your contract.” He tries to make it sound as menacing as possible – which isn’t very, coming from him and directed at a krogan and a turian.

Aparakis coughs. “Your attention, please. There is a Blue Suns checkpoint at the entrance to the district. There is no real way to go around it unless you’re willing to brave the maintenance tunnels, which are themselves in a state of serious disrepair. I wouldn’t recommend this option to any of you except for Mr. Moss,” he glances at the vorcha, who remains silent, but nods in acknowledgement. “The rest of you would probably have to deal with the checkpoint. While it is quite defensible, there is of course no love lost between the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack. Perhaps this can be turned to your advantage, or maybe you could arrange some kind of distraction. What’s important is that it is unlikely that the two groups would coordinate their actions well.”

While he speaks, the hologram focuses on the entrance area of the slum, highlighting a large square room with plenty of cover, overlooked by a balcony. Presumably the main Blue Suns position would be up there. The nearest staircase that would take you to the higher level of which this balcony seems to be part is on the far side of the square room.

“After that, you have two options – not counting the maintenance tunnels. The high road and the low road. The upper level that stretches from that balcony onwards used to contain a squalid residential area, if you could call it that. It has been largely deserted over the decades, and is likewise in a rather bad shape. But if you’re willing to brave its various hazards, it might allow you to bypass most of the Blood Pack forces – or at any rate, to face them on your own terms as opposed to getting mobbed.” Aparakis pauses, blinks, then absent-mindedly consumes another pill. “The lower level includes a series of warehouses. It is rather more intact, and the Blood Pack is using one of those warehouses as a temporary base. You might be able to flank them by going from the upper level through one of the staircases. There may be some sniping opportunities from the staircases, but not from the upper level itself. I doubt it would be possible to sneak by the Blood Pack entirely, though – you would have to get down to the lower level at the end in order to get to the meeting place.” The salarian highlights the last staircase, at the far side of the Blood Pack-controlled warehouse.

“And lastly, there are the docks where the transaction itself is going to take place. I wouldn’t expect serious technical countermeasures anywhere else in the district – as you know, that isn’t the Blood Pack’s strongest suit, and the Blue Sun forces here aren’t the best-supported. There are balconies over the main dock area from which you could try and snipe, but getting in position may take some time. The details of how you want to approach this are up to you,” Aparakis concludes with a nod to Vayex.

Vayex hesitates a bit and then backs away. "I want to get to Ganar Wrang and if that means I have to co-exist with a Turian then so be it." Vayex listens to what the Salarians are saying and then looks to the others. "How do you want to do this?"

For the first time since his arrival, the vorcha speaks up. While his voice is fairly typical for a member of his species – snarling and high-pitched, with occasional oddly-timed pauses – it is hard not to be impressed by his grasp on basic grammar. “I can go through the maintenance tunnels! There, I will set up distractions! I’m good with… systems!” Moss grins, revealing a row of long, sharp teeth. “You could blast through the Blue Suns while they are in disarray – and then we will regroup and hit the Blood Pack! If I can get some of their vorcha to betray them, we may have a shot at taking out… Ganar Wrang! The rest will scatter!” There is an enthusiastic glint in his eyes.

After completing his self-assigned homework of storing a facial map of each of the beings in the room (a process that sped up significantly after he had tagged the first of the turians and salarians, allowing for a more speedy process in regards to the basic features), Ruav looked towards Leryn and Vayex.

"Ah, I had wondered when the stereotypical attitudes would come into play." He muttered aloud, before turning to face the Vayex.

"I am fine with security systems, krogan. However, it would be difficult to bypass them if there were a risk of being discovered in the act."

"Aparakis, are there any robots that are common to that area? Automated cleaners or security patrol units, perhaps? If I could get my hands on one, it would be simple enough to get eyes on the meeting, even provide a significant... disruption, if you could provide me with some explosives..."

Ruav looked to the ground thoughtfully, thinking about possible courses of action. It sounded like his skills in "acquiring" spacecraft may come in handy. And he didn't doubt that whatever craft they would be arriving in would make a decent addition to his collection.

Maybe if he went ahead and waited at the docks... He could wait for the ship to dock, then clamber up into it and hijack it during the meeting. The only truly troubling issue he saw would be convincing Aparakis and the higher-ups of the Project to let him keep it.

Aparakis blinks. “It’s an ancient, half-abandoned district. Blue Suns and Blood Pack are the ones guarding it; not the Eclipse. I doubt there are any robots there… unless.” He pauses, scratching his chin, then takes out his omnitool and presses a few buttons in rapidly succession. “There should still be some primitive porter robots left in the docks themselves, if they have not been deactivated to conserve power. If they were, it should be possible to reactivate them. No weapons, limited maneuverability… Might still be good for a distraction though.”

“The problem would be reaching either the docks themselves or the robots’ control station in the warehouse. They are too far to be of much help to you elsewhere in the district. Perhaps Mr. Moss can distract them long enough for you to get through. I would also caution you against too much collateral damage. We would prefer to take at least one of the Void Network operatives alive, and to avoid damage to their merchandise.”

As the Vorcha mentions the possibility of getting to Ganar Wrang, Vayex turns to him. "You think you can convince your kind to betray Wrang?"

Vayex thinks for a second and then states loudly "Here's the plan! Small-fry (while looking at Moss), you go through those tunnels and cause as many distractions as you can. Then when it comes time, you convince your kind to betray Wrang. Suits, you're with us and we will get you to the Control Station in the warehouse. Turian, you and I are gonna have to play nice. We need to keep one of the Void guys alive. Turian, you have biotic abilities? Can you cast Stasis on one of their men when it comes time? Then we take out everybody else. But know this, Ganar Wrang is mine...I will end him tonight. Anybody got any problems? Speak up now."

If Leryn is annoyed by Vayex taking charge (as she very likely is), she hides it well. “I’m a trained biotic,” the turian acknowledges. “Stasis won’t be difficult,” she adds with a shrug and falls silent.

A few moments of contemplation later, the former Cabal assassin nonetheless decides to speak up again: “So how do you expect to deal with the Blue Suns? I doubt that whatever the vorcha does will be enough to get them all away from their position.”

I expect to deal with them with this rifle and my trusty pal Chomp, You can help too, if you think you're up to it...

Combat Theme 1

Without further ado, the four of you move out, guided by the maps helpfully uploaded to your respective omnitools. An automated skycar taxi is already waiting for you just outside the middle class district; quickly and quietly, it takes you down, past the neon lights and the loud music, into the dark depths of the station’s slums.

Upon your arrival at what in better times must have been a transit station, Moss splits away from the rest of the group and heads for the maintenance tunnel. Locating a small, barely noticeable door that must not have gotten much use lately, he tries to open it – but it would not budge. Grunting savagely, the vorcha begins to emit a blue light as he calls upon his biotic powers to help him pry the door open…

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…and easily drags its two sides away from each other, disappearing in the darkness beyond.

The rest of you proceed to the Blue Suns checkpoint. Aparakis’ schematics did not lie: it is a large, square room, brightly lit and relatively clean (as compared to the room you just came out of), with loading equipment and crates providing considerable cover – at least in the side of the room that’s nearer to you. The farther half of the room is more wide open, except for the barricades erected by the mercenaries. There is a wide passage leading deeper into the warehouse section of the district and guarded by half a dozen Blue Suns mercs in their blue and white armour (mostly turian or batarian). There is also a staircase leading to an upper section, which is connected to the balcony that provides a wonderful vantage point from which to cover most of the room except for the area immediately underneath it and the cover provided by the bigger crates. There you can see three Blue Suns: a turian and two humans. The turian appears to be a Centurion – a field commander; at least one of the humans seems to be a sniper.

Even with their superior positioning, nine seems like awfully few people for guarding the entrance to a district. Perhaps Moss has already started his work? He hasn’t reported in if so, though. Or maybe the Blue Suns are just woefully understaffed in this district, which, considering its low importance, would be entirely understandable…

Ruav'tor traversed Omega with his newly imposed "companions," keeping his thoughts (and his displeasure) to himself.

I hope that we can get through this quickly, if not quietly. But if it does come down to a fight, I suppose that I have some decent tools in my arsenal... He looked at the krogan and the turian with a bemused smile, before shaking his head and consulting the schematics he had downloaded to his HUD system.

"Any input?" He muttered, inaudible to the rest of his group. After a few milliseconds, a positive chirp accompanied a scrolling bit of text on his HUD.

Please elaborate. General banter, general task discussion, or instance-specific? Was the response from a VI he had been working on. It was only a few days old, relatively.

"Cute. Advise on the current situation. Read current location on last updated schematic file and enemy positions and types based on observable detail. I'd like your opinion on tactics and cautions for the current situation. How do you believe we should proceed?" Ruav brought up his omni-tool and began interacting with it, seemingly erratic movements of his fingers assigning references to existing data files for his "infant" VI.

Given known capabilities of enemy units, mission objectives, and ally resources and capabilities, the most effective course of action would be to cripple one to be interrogated, and eliminate the rest as they respond or appear from hiding. Suggestions: Does anyone on the team carry grenades, explosive rounds, or other heavy weaponry?

"Unknown. Thanks for the chat." Ruav responded, turning to look at his companions and enabling his voicemitter again, making sure to keep the volume low.

"I don't see any Blood Pack... How should we proceed?" He asked his companions.