Chapter Text
The shop is bathed in purple. Mesmerizing hues of swirling light accompany the visitor to the counter. On the way, the aisles are packed with trinkets, odds and ends of great variety; Milovea identifies patterns and motifs of at least four different species. In any other situation, she could get lost here for hours. How did she not know about this place?
An asari – barely older than 130 – greets her. ‘Good…’ she squints at the turian, ‘good morning! What are you looking for today?’ Her facial markings are just as elaborate as everything else in the shop. Milo almost feels bad; she is about to break this perfect image.
‘I need to bury my dead,’ she recites.
The asari’s face doesn’t go through a whole transformation like she feared. She is still standing there; lazy smile and all. ‘Of course. Follow me.’ She presses a button on her omni-tool and the front door locks with a non-offensive hiss.
Milo follows her into a smaller – but no less purple – room, where they both take a seat. She chooses a simple metal chair and the asari settles on a bean bag.
‘So. How many?’
‘Two. Before we go further, I am on a budget-’
‘How did they die?’
That startles even Milo. ‘That’s a bit-’
‘I am not charging you money. This is the only form of payment I accept,’ she explains. ‘Tell me how they died and I help you send them off in peace.’
Milovea gets hold of the edge of her chair and concentrates on the coolness of the metal. Red. ‘Their throats were cut.’
The shopkeeper shakes her head. ‘No.’ A change in the air. Did the ventilation turn off? For a moment, Milo fears the worst. When she opens her mouth again, the words seem to echo in the turian’s head. ‘How? How did they die?’
She understands now. This answer takes even longer. The vegetables threaten to come up the whole time, but she remains strong. ‘Afraid and betrayed.’
The asari seems satisfied. ‘Bathroom just across.’
Milo nods and storms out. Maybe she is not strong enough.
Her second meal of fast food since she settled in on Omega goes down easier. This time, she opted for fried beans of some sort, but they might as well be meat for how chewy they are. Szilas swears it’s from a plant and Milo doesn’t care right now. Food.
‘Someone was looking for you around opening time.’
She stares at him. ‘Don’t be vague about things like that. You know I get paranoid.’
‘I would tell you what he was,’ he retorts, ‘but honestly, I have never seen his kind before. And you don’t just ask customers their species.’
‘I am sure that would make you popular,’ she notes through a mouthful of beans. ‘Did he give you a name?’
‘He got pretty weird when I asked, now that I think about it. I told him “No message without a name”.’
‘Smart boy,’ Milo drawls. ‘Alright. Biped reptile. About this tall, pale like a new-born turian.’
He considers it. ‘I have never seen a new-born turian. But yes!’
‘Well, sh*t.’
‘Is he dangerous?’
‘To himself, yes.’ She drinks the rest of her juice and pays.
She has until the 26th at best. When nobody contacts Eclipse with the details of the next shipment, someone will come down to the lab and find it empty. With the help of the asari from the shop, Milovea cleaned up the place, leaving no evidence behind, save for a note.
Something ugly came up and we needed to leave. If we aren’t back
before next orbit, we are dead. Melenis escorts us off-station and
will be sent back here as a sign of good faith. We won’t be hiring
you again. All expenses are paid; sent to the address you gave.
We wish you success in your future endeavours.
Best
V. E. and V. S.
Melenis wanted to make edits to it, but ultimately let the professional work – who, in turn, had the decency not to reach into her mind and press for more details. The asari generally asked very few questions while they worked. ‘I will send you evidence of the remaining step,’ she promised. Milo has no real way to enforce that, but no reason to doubt her either. She thanked her and got to work herself. There was one 'friend' of hers left on Omega.
Milo: You free this afternoon? I need help.
Dea(th)ler: Of course. Afterlife?
Milo: Ew.
Dea(th)ler: Ew? Would you prefer my place?
Milo: Afterlife. Tell you the rest in person.
Milo: Get us a quiet table.
When Milo arrives, she tries to appear fine. Even cheerful. ‘Hi.’
‘I was hoping you would bring your new friend.’
She just sighs.
‘Maybe next time.’ Morinth pats the seat next to her.
Milovea sits down across from the woman, hands on the table. ‘I am not in a position to threaten you, but…’
‘But you want to.’
‘Yeah.’
She chuckles. ‘Is that the emergency?’
‘The problem is called “Eclipse”. My bosses left Omega after signing a contract with them. I don’t owe anything to anyone. The problem is, I never became an official member and I don’t want to.’
‘Can’t you tell them you quit?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe? It’s already weird that a turian wears their armour. Well, mine, technically. I used my own equipment and modified it. With my money. I don’t know how they will react to me quitting.’
‘That old couple didn’t deserve you,’ the asari muses. She leans forward. ‘Does Eclipse know that you’re…?’
‘There’s no point in telling them if I don’t want to have anything to do with them.’ She is starting to lose her patience. ‘I just want to make sure we can part ways. No strings attached.’
Morinth takes a sip from her multi-coloured abomination. ‘How much do you have?’ The liquid sizzles in anger.
‘2000.’
‘1300 plus a favour.’
‘2000.’
‘Not to me, silly!’ Her smile is still impossibly wide, Milo notes. ‘I have someone on the inside. Old acquaintance. Owes me three or four more lives before we’re even. The favour is for the person I am introducing you to. I am not exactly in dire need of credits. 1300 and you tell me how your little side mission goes.’ Morinth’s drink has unionized and now tries to escape the glass through the bottom. ‘You will spend that 700 here anyway.’
Milo, who was ready to throw her new prototype armour in the mix, suddenly finds that quite humorous. She slides the credit chit across the table. ‘I put 2000 on it. Just retract it from my next purchase – if I live to see that day.’
‘Fine.’ Morinth declares amnesty on the contents of her glass, then picks up the device. ‘I’ll get us something sweet.’
Milo notices a few pairs and quartets of eyes following her walk to the bar. It must be strange for them to see her talk to the same person more than a few times. Milovea never claimed to understand asari, but she does have a lurking feeling that something is not right with this one. Yet they get along so easily! Maybe it’s the fact that the turian is generally not interested in sex, whether that involves Morinth or not. Maybe she just likes giving Milo the creeps; enjoys how easily she gets scared. There is a third option, but considering that would require sympathy. Sympathy is a dangerous thing when it comes to people like Morinth. Once they catch the scent-
She puts down two shots of golden-brown liquid. Turian brandy.
Milovea slowly drags her gaze up to the asari. ‘Do you insist on poisoning yourself?’
Morinth completely ignores her and returns to her seat. ‘Here is what you’re going to do.’
