Snippet #1902488

Titus stood on the other side of the conference room table with his arms crossed over his chest, and one foot and shoulder back as he scrutinized the man named Janis Freeman, standing directly across from him. From the start, when Operative Freeman first set foot on the Vindicator, the commander didn't like him. He seemed sly, full of himself, and all-around untrustworthy. According to the man's Cerberus dossier, he was a political infiltrator and veteran double-agent; sent to work for the enemy, only to find and exploit their greatest weaknesses. Perhaps it was simply the Cerberus influence of distrust that was influencing Titus to eye the man with the utmost suspicion, but one thing was for certain: you can never fully trust a man that hasn't lost something. Everyone so far on his crew has had to either make hard sacrifices, or witness something – or someone – close be taken from them. Mr. Freeman seems to have lost nothing, nor does he have anything to lose.

“So,” the commander began, “Oracle, huh?”

Janis smiled and nodded. “Oracle.”

“How's-?”

“-You're friend? Oh, she's fine. Not to worry, though, Commander; the Illusive Man has no plans for Ms. Carson yet.”

“Yet...”

There was an awkward, hanging silence in the room as the two men continued to exchange dubious looks. Finally, through saving grace, the door to the briefing room whooshed open and Serena Taylor came inside and down the few steps leading to the center of the room. When she joined her own section of the table, she broke the ice by asking, “So... Omega? We've already been their once during this mission.” She looked over to Janis. “Mind filling us in on what exactly needs to happen when we arrive back on that infested station?”

Freeman smirked at Taylor's implicit prejudice and then raised his arm to bring up his Omni-tool. A few key strokes had projected a holographic map of the station in the center of the conference table. He commanded the image to zoom in on a particular area of the station and the render the more minute details of small dive bar. “One of our alien contacts on the station, a volus named Korvin Don, has offered his bar for the meeting with our quarian to take place. Its not exactly a 'safe house', but its out of the way from any of the major gang activity. Now, knowing quarians, our contact is probably going to ask for his petty Hallex right away; which is currently sitting in the Vindicator's port side cargo bay.”

“Nice to know I've got drugs aboard by ship,” Titus retorted. He quickly withdrew when he saw Serena's cold 'shut up' glance from the side.

Ignoring the comment, Freeman carried on with his briefing. “The quarian, Jal, will find that his requested Hallex has been moved to the bay of his choosing once we meet up with him. We're obviously not going to be dragging a dozen crates of Hallex through Omega streets. That's just asking for it.”

“A dozen crates?” This time it was Serena that had interrupted.

Janis nodded without loosing his bearing. “Jal has been trading illegal intoxicants for some time now. He found the business to be more... profitable than his pilgrimage. Whatever floats his boat, I guess; Cerberus is happy to trade whatever street drug he desires for the valuable information he's offering.”

“About that,” Titus interrupted. “How can we be sure he's giving us the right codes? What if he tricks us into giving the Migrant Fleet a duress code when he attempt to board?”

Janis grinned. “Let me handle that, Commander.”

The whoosh of the door echoed in the room again and the three occupants turned their heads to stare at Braden marching through the threshold. There was a tempered fire in his eyes, and both of his fists were clinched. “You're going back there?” he demanded.

The teen stopped just short of Titus, who began to beg the question, “How did you-?”

“Darcy told me,” Braden responded.

The commander sighed and rubbed his temple. “I'm sorry, son; but I won't be taking you with me this time. This particular mission requires a lot of expertise in a certain art – something you haven't been properly trained in yet.”

Braden looked heartbroken, and also furious. He turned his head down to hide the creeping emotions. Serena placed a hand on his shoulder and gently turned the young man around to guide him out of the briefing room. When the blast doors closed behind them, Janis was the first to speak.

“I've read his dossier. Tragic... what happened to him.” The man's icy gaze peered over to the table to Titus. His arms crossed over his chest and head tilted low, he muttered, “He'll make a good asset to Cerberus one day.”

John only glanced to Janis out of his peripherals, his body still facing the door that Serena and Braden walked out of. The man's heartless words struck a chord somewhere within him and he could only blame himself for that cold truth. An “asset”? Is that what Janis sees in the boy? Just another assassin stripped of his free will; ordered to do the Illusive Man's bidding?

“Something wrong, Commander?” Janis asked, pulling John from his doubtful thoughts about the organization he worked for.

The soldier straightened himself out and rolled his shoulders back. “No. Let's carry on with the plan.”




Titus wasn't too surprised to find that the same turian from last time was standing at the end of the docking bay, waiting to register the commander's now-second arrival to the infamous station. The Talon mercenary looked his customer up and down with a suspicious eye as he took the CHA credit chit that John extended to him.

“Back again, huh?” the turian asked rhetorically. “Where's the armor?”

John, Serena, and Janis were wearing typical civilian clothes. Titus had chosen to sport a tan leather jacket and black cargo trousers. A Hahne-Kedar Kessler pistol had been concealed by the jacket, attached to the belt. He knew the merc wouldn't care what kind of fire power they brought onto Omega; his job was to simply collect credits. Everyone on the station was carrying some kind of piece. Guns weren't intimidating to the people here; they're merely a means of protection.

“Won't be needing it this time,” Titus replied with a small smile to try and lighten the stiff mood.

“Uh-huh...” The turian swiped the credit chit over his Omni-tool and handed it back. “Enjoy your stay on Omega.”

The trio walked out of the docking station and into the crowded streets. Janis led the way to Korvin's bar with Titus taking up the rear to watch their backs. Serena walked in between, tapping at her Omni-tool to complete the transfer of the Hallex crates into the Talon's cargo depot at the dock. The fees the merc group was charging for the shipment were unbelievably high, and she silently thanked herself for Cerberus' funding.

When the three of them stopped at a taxi port, Serena punched in a summon command for the next available skycar on a nearby console. After completing a nominal fair towards the volus merchant that ran the small-time cab business, the woman turned and said, “Our destination is near Afterlife in the upper districts. It'll be faster if we hitch a ride instead of taking the primary elevators that run through the station's pylons.”

“You want us to take one of those filthy-ass things?” Janis asked.

Serena shrugged her shoulders. “If it gets where you need to go, what does it matter?”

“It matters because I don't want to step out of a cab with alien piss on the bottom of my two-thousand credit pants.”

John exchanged a bemused look with his second-in-command and then said, “Well at least Mr. Clean, here, won't set off any contamination alarms when we infiltrate the Migrant Fleet.”

“Oh, you're funny...”

The skycar landed a few feet away from them and Serena popped the hatch, taking the driver's seat. John sat shotgun, while Janis carefully positioned himself in the back, ensuring before he sat completely down that the seat was free of any foreign substances – liquid or otherwise. When the hatch closed, Serena skillfully piloted the cab up into the higher portions of the station, following a single pylon to the top. Details of the underbelly of the mined asteroid became more apparent the closer they got; and within a few more minutes, Serena saw an available cab port near where they wanted to go, and expertly straightened out the skycar for a gentle landing.

A tone sounded when the hatch popped open and the haptic control interface on both the driver and passenger side faded out of existence. Janis was the first out of the skycar, quickly twisting around to check the underside of his trousers, brushing away at whatever nonexistent disgust had attached itself to him.

“Question,” Titus began, “do you always such expensive taste to on missions?”

Janis finished checking himself and then straightened out to face Titus with a wide grin. He slid both hands into his trouser pockets, pushing back the folds of his pearl white blazer, and replied, “Expensive taste is a sign of success. Success yields respect. Respect yields power.”

John leaned back and folded his arms. “But you're an infiltrator. What kind of respect and power do you hope to hold over someone's head when you technically don't exist?”

Janis' grin seemed to morph into a wicked smile as his head tilted downward. “All the more reason to be cautious when dealing with someone like me. Too many unknowns.”