Ashana was nearly out the door when she heard Darion speak up. She glanced at the rest of the group for any indication that his sudden breaking of silence was expected. It wasn't.<br/><br/>Forrun stared Darion down as the Human spoke, never betraying a flinch or telling glance.<span style="color: SeaGreen">And you suggest I gather this information for you on what basis? Good will? The price of our services is well beyond the salary of a gun for hire.</span>Forrun paused briefly, considering the notion.<span style="color: SeaGreen">As you cannot afford our service, we will exact another price. If you want this information, then you <i>will</i> assist us in the learning the identity of the assassin. Whatever choice you may have had is now removed. We will contact you or provide you with a means of contact us when we have the information you seek. Now, if you would?</span>He motioned for him to leave with the others.<br/><br/>Ashana watched Darion as he returned to them and they left. She didn't know what that was about, and she didn't much want to know. They had enough to deal with as it was.<br/><br/>Ashana spent the shuttle ride back to the Acheron in silence with his arms across her chest. When they arrived, the Acheron's hull had been resealed and the ship looked space worthy again. She hoped the repairs had been successful. They would be spending some time in transit. Bekenstein was a planet she had never heard of, and over the years she had gained a fair compendium of planet and system names that she had gathered from freighters and pirates. Still, her knowledge barely left the Terminus systems, beyond them she only knew names like Earth, the Citadel, and Thessia.<br/><br/>Ashana vacated the shuttle with the other and Cantenelli's voice over the ship's comms ordered them to the crew deck for an update. Firas visibly sneered at the order, but he complied none the less.  Ashana was surprised to see the entire ship's crew already sitting, standing, or leaning on a wall at the long, wide table. The discussion was fairly one sided - Firas filled in the details and Ashana interjected to add an analysis or opinion. Cantenelli listened, but he didn't ask many questions.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">Well, I suppose its as good of an idea as any. If you think the agent was being honest with you, that is. I know Vega, or at least I saw him once. We never spoke. He's young for his status, and full of himself, but he does extremely good work, all privately contracted. He has a lot of credits and he likes to make sure everyone knows it. If we're lucky, he'll forward payment for the job as well. Between Vega and Kalga, we could walk away from this very wealthy.</span>The Human captain said, sitting back in his chair.<br/><br/><span style="color: Cyan">Let's hope so. Between the impromptu repairs, bribes and restocking, we're not sitting on much.</span>Mickey said.<br/><br/><span style="color: Purple">How much?</span>Ashana asked.<br/><br/><span style="color: Cyan">Uhh...</span>Mickey looked into the air above him to divine an estimation.<span style="color: Cyan">Maybe 8,000?</span><br/><br/><span style="color: Navy">What can we do with 8,000 credits?</span>Airea spoke up. She was leaning on the wall nearest the table.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">We can fly to Bekenstein.</span>Cantenelli answered.<span style="color: Blue">If this job falls through, then Bekenstein is as good of a place as any. Its a Human industrial world.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: Cyan">Yeah.</span>Mickey laughed.<span style="color: Cyan">Which means there's a lot of people with a lot of credits doing a lot of illegal things.</span>Neither Firas nor Falkris so much as smiled.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">We're in agreement then?</span>There were a number of nods around the table.<span style="color: Blue">Mickey, Bekenestein.</span><br/><br/>Everyone stood and started dispersing. As Cantenelli walked from his chair, Ashana spoke up.<span style="color: Purple">Where's Bekenstein?</span>She asked, curious.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">Boltzmann System.</span>Ashana stared at him blankly.<span style="color: Blue">In the Serpent Nebula. Its in the same cluster as the Citadel.</span><br/><br/>Ashana felt a brief tingle of excitement at the knowing where they were going. She had always wanted to go to the Citadel, to see what so many that had come and gone from Afterlife had been talking about. She would make a point to have the ship stop by if they lived through whatever was waiting for them on Bekenstein.<br/><br/>The crew dispersed, everyone seemingly going their own way. A few minutes after Mickey had gone up the elevator, he told everyone over the comms that the trip would take 16 hours between jumping between Mass Effect relays and refueling. It was just the time Ashana wanted. Nothing to do but sit back and try to relax, to settle into the new course of events that her life was taking.<br/><br/>She opened the door to the observation deck she had designated as hers and her shoulders drooped. That's right, she remembered, there was nothing in here. For the time being, though, that would be fine. She sat down in front of the window and crossed her legs, watching the sky rapidly move outside as the ship rose and left the atmosphere.<br/><br/><br/>***<br/><br/><br/>Firas had spent the following three hours in the weapons battery, not doing much of anything. It just seemed like the only place for him to be. At first he had poked around in the weapons systems, but it yielded little. The ship had big guns. Beyond that, he couldn't find anything interesting. He had spent the remaining time standing, leaning and sitting as he tried to mentally sort out what kind of mess he was in. No matter how he looked at it, though, he was still bowing to a Human's authority. A<i>Human</i>. Firas felt sick.<br/><br/>The door to the weapons battery opened suddenly and Firas looked up to see Falkris, Cantenelli's Turian, standing in the doorway, looking vaguely surprised to see him. Firas was leaning against the railing on the corner of the operations platform, and he made no effort to explain himself or move to acknowledge Falkris. In return, neither did Falkris.<br/><br/>The Turian first officer was bigger than Firas, but only just.  He walked to the console before the weapons and began looking through information, though what it was, Firas didn't care. His eyes were on the outline on the shoulder of Falkris' armor, the outline that was just darker than the rest, like something that had once been there had been removed. Firas had known what it was the first time he saw it.<br/><br/><span style="color: Red">I'm surprised they didn't grind off your facial markings too, for abandoning the hierarchy. A ship captain is a high position to be disgraced from. And for what? To serve a Human?</span>Firas spoke, scathingly, but calmly.<br/><br/><br/>***<br/><br/><br/>Shira'Va had been in the armory for three hours, tallying, categorizing, and organizing the new gear. There were Ceramite plates to replace damaged armor, nearly a hundred thermal clips, ready to use weapons, and various other weapon parts. Nothing was there for anything more than replacement, though. She had to restrain herself from buying something to help tweak her beloved shotgun, or even some lower grade parts to start rebuilding a new weapon, a rifle, or pistol, that she could give to one of the new crew. Sadly, they had no money for such things. She lamented the sudden loss of what she could now deem "the old days," even though they had ended only three days ago.<br/><br/>Of course, even with the work to do, she wasn't doing it because she needed it to be done. She was hiding. She knew that the rest of the new crew had another Quarian with them, but coming back to the ship to see him in the medical bay, laying there in the same place she had been too many times with that horrid white gas everywhere, she realized she was afraid of talking to him, of even saying hello.<br/><br/>She had deliberately kept herself out of his range of vision during the debriefing and the moment they were dismissed, she came into the armory and stayed there.<br/><br/>But it was just so pathetic! She slammed the small tray of Thermal clips she was carrying onto the workbench and sent them flinging and rolling everywhere. She groan in frustration and started picking them up. She had no idea why she was even avoiding him. It made no sense to her what so ever. Or at least, that's what she tried to tell herself.<br/><br/>Deep down, though, she knew exactly why. She liked the attention. She liked being unique. On the crew she had always been special, always stood away from the rest. She was a Quarian. She was<i>the</i>Quarian. Now she wasn't.<br/><br/>She put the last thermal clip back into the tray and pushed it into the series of pull out trays stocked with them. But then, what would they even talk about? Oh hello, I see your a Quarian! Me too! Your from the migrant fleet? Amazing, so am I? Wait, your allergic to the air too? Wow, I can see we're going to get along smashingly! Shira imagined herself using the most overly dramatic body posturing she could.<br/><br/>She sat down and jumped up suddenly as she felt the rifle already on the seat she was going to sit on. She clenched her fists and mumbled in anger then grabbed the rifle and roughly jammed it into the wall lock with the others. This wasn't working at all, she decided. Eventually she would need to just go talk to this new Quarian and get it over with so she could focus on what she was doing.<br/><br/>She left the armory and went marching with purpose through the ship to find him, and when she did she approached, stiffly held out her hand and said very matter of factly,<span style="color: DarkOrchid">I'm Shira'Va Vas Acheron.</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>