Declan and Trish had moved out of Afterlife for a place to talk without constant music drowning each other out. Wherever one found themselves on Omega, it was always dark, as if the station was caught in a never ending night cycle. The lights of the structures that extended up from the base support platforms or down from the cavity of the asteroid’s underbelly were mere yellow dots at a distance, reminiscent of a sleepless city. Most of the bright signs for businesses and venues were either a shade of red, orange, or purple. There weren’t many cool colors to be found, which reflected in the average humid temperature of the station. Steam gradually rose up from the vents on the walkways and streets, and several areas with constantly running machines would make a man sweat just walking near them.
However, despite the grungy atmosphere, the near anarchy, and the high crime rate (if one could even be calculated) Omega was home to 7.8 million inhabitants from all major races. There was opportunity there, and ways for anyone to make a name for themselves, no matter their walk in life. Its reputation for being a haven to pirates and traffickers aside, there were just as many good guys as there were bad. As for Declan… he was someone that fell right in the middle on some days.
The man walked over and placed his hands firmly against the top of a metal guardrail alongside one of the walkways outside of Afterlife. From where they were standing, Declan had a picture-perfect view of Omega’s sprawling interior, which extended both up high and far below him. A steady, almost yellow fog enveloped the distant structures, like how pollution can cloud the air over an industrialized city.
“So who’s this helmsman you mentioned?” he asked Trish, who moved over to stand just over his right shoulder.
The asari crossed her arms and shifted her weight comfortably to one side before replying, “Well, for starters, he’s one in a million; so hear me out before you jump to any conclusions.”
“Alright.”
“He’s piloted everything from fighters and interceptors, to frigates and even cruisers. Quick on the uptake, incredibly fast reaction times, and can make split-second decisions while flying through thick and thin without hesitation. His instincts are always correct when he’s in the pilot seat.”
“Anyone can sound great with such generic praise,” Dec criticized.
A smile tugged at the corner of Trish’s lips. “He’s captured Aria’s attention… and her acceptance.”
Declan turned his head to look at her through his peripheral. “So all of that praise is justified?”
She nodded. “He’s good, Dec. Trust me. And we’ll need someone with his skills, but I can guarantee that you won’t find one better.”
The man turned around and leaned back against the rail. He raised a brow and gave Trish a suspicious glare. “So what’s the catch?” he demanded.
Before she replied, the loud roar of a Mantis gunship flew behind Declan through the transitway at lightning speed, causing him to jump away in a frightened panic. While straightening up to catch his breath, several more spacecraft flew by in the same direction. Even while moving at high speeds, his keen eye was able to spot the familiar Blood Pack skull and fist logos on the pursuing vessels.
“What the hell?”
Trish let out an amused laugh. “That would be him.” Declan glanced at her with a slightly confused expression, so she explained, “Aria’s relations with the three major factions on Omega started to rapidly dissolve after the Cerberus occupation during the Reaper War. They’ve made the unfortunate mistake to assume she’s weak and have tried to make several moves against her. But she’s not a push-over. The Blue Suns and the Eclipse are beginning to fall back in line, save for a few hold-outs in the lower districts, but the Blood Pack are being stubborn. Although, that shouldn’t come as a surprise from a merc group full of krogan and vorcha.
“Anyway, since they refuse to pay Aria what she’s owed, she’s decided to take it by force. That Mantis is transporting two tons of red sand that was stolen from a recently imported shipment to the Blood Pack’s main compound. The one piloting it… is the one I was talking about.”
Declan pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction the Mantis had flew in and asked, “One man is taking on the Blood Pack?” He was right to seek clarity. The mercenary organization known as the Blood Pack was probably the most brutal and unforgiving lot in the galaxy. As Trish had mentioned, their membership was exclusively krogan and vorcha, making them a brutal band of murdering assholes. Anyone that knowingly stood in their way had a death wish, and those that didn’t were often unsuspecting collateral damage.
“No, not a man,” Trish replied. "He's-" Trish's omni-tool beeped several times to indicate the receipt of a message. "One sec," she said before tapping the bracelet on her wrist to activate the haptic interface. "Oh, well, what do you know? Martinez and Abrax are nearby. Care to say hello?"
"No, shit?" Declan asked excitedly. "Hell, yeah! Bring their asses over here!"
Trish tapped out a message on her omni-tool back to Martinez, asking them to rendezvous outside of Afterlife at her location on their way out.
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