Cantenelli looked at the asari, annoyed by her intrusion.<span style="color: Blue">"That would be best. Off you go."</span>He said, coldly, keeping his hand next to his pistol. As she turned to start going, he muttered under his breath,<span style="color: Blue">"Who the hell sends a resume..."</span><br/><br/>Milenya twitched again. The brusque dismissal surprised her. She nodded and silently turned to go, her mind already turning over other options. If hiring onto a ship was going to be like this, perhaps spending money on one of the more or less regular transports to Illium would work better.<br/><br/>She was several steps away and starting to move faster when she heard<span style="color: Blue">"Stop!"</span>from behind. She assumed a neutral expression and turned around. The human was already almost caught up when he asked,<span style="color: Blue">"You know Prothean tech?"</span><br/><br/>Several responses, most of them rude or insulting, crossed her mind as she took her time to respond. She settled on a cooly guarded<span style="color: #6495ED">"Yes, I know something of the subject."</span><br/><br/>The human smiled ever so slightly, his eyes losing a bit of that hard, hostile edge.<span style="color: Blue">"Well, it seems I owe you an apology, Milenya Kitenis. You do have something valuable to us. As it happens, our present operation involves the investigation of an as-of-yet unknown Prothean object. I wish I could say more, but frankly we don't know more. My ship is full of mercenaries and gunmen. None of us know Prothean tech, and I feel that would put us at a disadvantage. And a doctor of archaotech would be an asset. So, if you want passage off Omega then you just found it. But we require discretion in our activities. No communications about us, our ship, or our objective. We're not the only ones looking into this Prothean<i> thing</i>, whatever it is, and we don't want any uninvited inquiries."</span>The hard edge was almost palpable again by the time he finished his pitch, his intent stare slightly disturbing.<br/><br/>Aria's words came to mind, and she thought to herself,<span style="color: #6495ED">'Do I have something valuable, or am I something valuable? And if discretion is important, then why talk about it openly here in Afterlife? Even I know that much. What am I missing?'</span>She maintained as neutral a posture as she could as he continued.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">"Further, the ship lacks certain privacy considerations. She was built by Turians. Any private living arrangements on board would be limited."</span>He paused.<span style="color: Blue">"If you can manage all of that, then you're hired. Otherwise, you will have to look elsewhere. Do we have a deal?"</span>He extended his hand.<br/><br/>She looked him over, judging her timing just long enough for a frisson of discomfort to settle in, before extending her hand to complete the handshake. Petty, perhaps, but it helped assuage her feelings about being brusquely dismissed earlier.<br/><br/><span style="color: #6495ED">"Yes, we have a deal. If this were Ilium, I'd have a contract ready. I presume things work differently on Omega?"</span><br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">"They do. Once the ship has re-docked, I'll send you its co-ordinates and we can talk further."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #6495ED">"Of course. Please let me know as soon as you have an idea."</span>She nodded to him, and then turned to leave. She felt as if half the bar had eyes on her back with the way the human had blurted out her qualifications. Fortunately, no one bothered her going back to the apartment.<br/><br/>It was an anxious time, waiting. She filled it by downloading publically available tech schematics for Turian frigates of the kind the Acheron was probably a variant of, and updating her Asari-tech database with the most recent versions. Vessira had always insisted that her 'driver' do the maintenance and upgrades on her private shuttle, sometimes in the nude. Milenya smiled faintly at those memories.<br/><br/>She was in the middle of reviewing the most recent advancements in Prothean tech analysis, when she finally got the message with the Acheron's dock number. The trip there was uneventful, the vaguely familiar Batarian cab driver being gruffly polite and mostly silent.<br/><br/>*****<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkGreen">"She made it onto the ship. I saw Ashana there. She didn't see me."</span><br/><br/>Aria acknowledged the information with a flick of her eyes.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkGreen">"We could have grabbed the doctor."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #9400D3">"You should learn patience. If they find that artifact, she'll study it. And since she owes me now, if it makes its way to Omega, I'll know what it is and why it's caused such a mess. If it doesn't, so much the better."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: DarkGreen">"Yeah, but why let her go? You could've made her one of yours."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #9400D3">"You have a lot to learn about her kind. Eventually, she'll be back, and begging to sleep at the foot of my bed."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: DarkGreen">"A lot of people do that already."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #9400D3">"At the foot of my bed, idiot, not in it."</span><br/><br/>*****<br/><br/>Up close, the Acheron was impressively sleek. Instead of just the flat planes and sharp edges of Turian design, there were subtle curves and rounded corners. Even more atypical, it was painted in dark colors, a black that seemed to shimmer with deep blue highlights when you looked at it at just the right angle.<br/><br/>She'd gotten there as soon as she could, but even so, there were already deliveries being made and techs climbing around the ship. She spotted the human from the bar, surrounded by several other people, including a Turian who even at this distance seemed to be surrounded with an aura of perpetual irritation.<br/><br/><span style="color: #6495ED">'Probably the captain'</span>she thought to herself as she tugged her footlocker along.<br/><br/><span style="color: Red">"...and we've already got the parts to modify the tech lab. We could have saved some credits on not getting civilian-grade bedding for the bunk, or not modifying it at all. Nothing wrong with Turian barracks."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">"I think the doctor's worth it."</span><br/><br/>The turian gave an irritated churr, then looked past the human, at Milenya.<span style="color: Red">"I think that's her, captain."</span><br/><br/>Captain? She had to change her view of the man.<br/><br/>Cantenelli turned and nodded at Milenya in greeting, looking over a datapad in the process before signing off on it.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">"Doctor Kitenis, welcome to the Acheron. My XO, Falkris, will show you where the tech lab is. Your resume says you have some practical experience. Find Taseer when you've stowed your gear and she'll put you to work."</span><br/><br/>Falkris failed to look pleased, and headed aboard, irritatedly waving for Milenya to follow. Once aboard, he started talking, not giving Milenya a chance to interrupt.<br/><br/><span style="color: Red">"You're obviously a civilian, so here's the rules. You don't talk about the Acheron. You don't talk about what's aboard the Acheron. You don't talk about her mission. You don't discuss the Acheron. You don't talk about her movements. You don't converse about the Acheron. You don't even talk about being a member of the crew. You don't send vid messages mentioning the Acheron. Not to anyone. Some parts of the ship may be off limits to you. Don't talk about the ship. Respect that, and you'll stay alive. You'll be expected to help out. If one of the officers tells you to do something, you do it. If one of the officers tells you not to do something, you don't do it. You'll be expected to keep your own space clean. Since you're in the tech lab, that's triply important, something you should already be familiar with, 'doctor'. If you want respect, you'll carry your weight. If you don't want respect, you'll still carry your weight. Are we clear."</span><br/><br/>They reached the tech lab, one long window allowing a full view of the equipment within.<br/><br/><span style="color: #6495ED">'He's not deliberately trying to annoy me.'</span>Milenya thought, listening to him. He was almost the quintessential Turian officer, and he was already giving her the benefit of the doubt by his standards, she guessed.<br/><br/><span style="color: #6495ED">"Yes, sir, we're clear."</span><br/><br/>Falkris tapped a few codes into the lock panel, and indicated she should put her hand on the glowing circle. As she did, he continued,<span style="color: Red">"Get your things secured. The layout will be changed to give you a small bunk, but that won't happen for a few hours. Take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with the equipment, then find Taseer and get to work."</span>The turian didn't even wait for an acknowledgement before stomping away.<br/><br/>She hit the door lock again, and this time the door opened to let her drag her footlocker in. She shoved it against the wall for the moment, then turned and looked around. What she saw was surprising.<br/><br/>None of the equipment was bleeding edge, but it was all state of the art two, three years before, and it was a breathtaking mix. The eclectic combination of analysis instruments covered everything essential and even a few things that weren't. The minifac was Asari-built, able to produce parts with a precision no Turian-built vessel should ever need, and the tools were all high-quality, if from a dozen different manufacturers spread between the major galactic races. All in all, it was at least as well equipped as her lab at the university had been.<br/><br/>Whomever built the ship had spared no expense. And that was another anomaly. She idly wondered if her initial impression was wrong, and this was in fact a deeply covert military operation.<br/><br/>She was startled from her musing by a high-pitched whine that rapidly reached a crescendo and stopped. Taking advantage of the sudden quiet, she keyed her omnitool into the ship's net and queried it for Taseer's location.<br/><br/>Unsurprisingly, the engineer fired off a few quick yet surprisingly tricky technical questions, and then put Milenya to work for the rest of the shift. She was exhausted by the time she tumbled into her freshly installed bunk.<br/><br/>She slept soundly, for the first time in days.<br/><br/>*****<br/><br/>Next morning, Taseer gave her the 'day' off when she checked in, telling her that she'd just be getting in the way of the refit crew, and told her to go exploring the ship, except the drive core. She wandered the vessel, dodging crew hauling equipment, and looking over what she could.<br/><br/>It didn't take her long to figure out that the ship was built for stealth. The heat storage system and the capacitor banks were immense for a ship this size, and the internal EM shielding only added more evidence. Even the sound baffling within the ship was remarkably effective, doubtless to minimize the effect of directed energy sensor pickups; what the humans once called 'laser microphones' on a starship scale.<br/><br/>The mix of technologies was also staggering. Asari, Turian, Salarian, Human, even bits of Volus and Hanar tech (the latter mostly in the life support and water recycling plant). Whatever the ship was now, it clearly had had several hundred million credits poured into its design and construction. And that spelled 'covert military prototype'.<br/><br/>She slipped into her space in the Tech lab again, catching a glimpse of a startlingly beautiful Asari out of the corner of her eye. When she turned to look, the woman had already disappeared.<br/><br/>Milenya turned and began to unpack. Her footlocker was a heavily built but standard-sized one, easily fitting into the secure catches under the bunk. She tapped in her code, and took out a few small things. Her personal computer terminal went onto the small desk. She placed an oval cylinder, the contents obscured by the blackout screen of the casing, on the personal items shelf of the bunk, and tucked a well-worn plush doll of a nathak next to the pillow.<br/><br/>The bunk itself was a common single-person survival model, meant to collapse, seal, and protect the individual and the contents of the bunk during hull breaches and loss of pressure events. Reliable, reusable, and reportedly very claustrophobic to be in before the pod sleep unit activated. At least the mattress was a very comfortable air cushion/foam model, with matching pillows.<br/><br/>The refitters had moved storage units into the space above her bunk, and there was considerably less free floor space. Not that a tech lab needed all that much for the micro-manufacturing that was usually done.<br/><br/>It was a tight space; but it was hers. She laid back on the bunk and sighed, then blinked as the thin-panel display on the 'ceiling' of the bunk registered. Definitely not stock, but handy for reading in bed. Or viewing porn, which was more likely given the unit was bought on Omega.<br/><br/><span style="color: #6495ED">'At least they're not planning to sell me off. It seems a straightforward enough operation. I wonder about this artifact they're chasing... where is it from? What is it? How do they know about it? Why is it significant? It must be worth it to risk a ship like this on a wild chase. It could be the find of several lifetimes. Something that would make my reputation, if I could write a paper on it. Even just a preliminary one. I'm not going to let a chance like this slip through my fingers.'</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>