Post by Ghorith Ghegranak on Aug 12, 2017 14:21:40 GMT -6
TIME: A few days before the events of Chapter 22
PLACE: Omega
*****
“Let us close our service in prayer,” the minister said.
Ghorith Gheg’ranak bowed his head and held out his hands in front him, open so that they may catch any blessings the gods chose to bestow upon him.
It was not a true chapel, but it was where many of the faithful joined to hear the minister read from the Pillars of Strength and then learn the lessons contained therein.
Had someone told him a year ago he would be outside batarian space, stripped of almost everything meaningful in his life, he would have laughed. His father was a high-ranking member in the government and he himself enjoyed a high rank in the elite Special Intervention Unit. He had a good house, a loving family and plenty of slaves; what could possibly happen?
Then the troubles came.
Framed for dealing red sand, stripped of his position, his family imprisoned in a labor camp and him living among the lesser races of the galaxy in one of the most crime-ridden space stations there was, he realized he was not immune to the greater forces at work in the galaxy.
Despair almost got the best of him until one day as he was attempting to avoid a patrol of Red Talons, he ducked into the makeshift chapel his people had built. As he walked in, the minister was warning the congregation about the perils of getting caught up in the physical aspect of life while ignoring the spiritual; all the good things in life had were gifts from the gods but if they were not appreciated they could just as easily be taken away.
It was almost as if the minister was speaking directly to him. True, while he attended the worship services as directed by the Hegemony he did moreso out of a sense of obligation than a true desire.
He knew then he had much farther to travel than his home; he had to begin a new journey, one of faith. According to the Pillars of Strength, the gods only allowed the worthy into the afterlife; those who ignored their teachings, when they died, would be denied entry and reborn in another body. If one’s sins were severe, they would be reborn as a member of another race, a weaker one, such as the quarians or the volus, who needed environmental suits just to stay alive. But if one’s offenses were minor, they would be reborn in a strong body, such as that of a krogan or a turian.
Even as he realized his offenses, he knew he would have to take action to fully repent for what he did; prayers and good intentions were not enough. The gods had blessed with him the gift of biotics and a talent for fighting, so he put them to use, now serving as a bounty hunter, pursuing criminals who attempted to flee justice.
*****
The service ended, he stayed back to ensure the chapel was neat and orderly. He was putting away copies of the Pillars when the minister approached.
“Ghorith,” he called out.
He stopped and faced the minister, bowing in respect.
The minister held out his hand. In it was an OSD.
“This came for you just before the service began,” the minister said. “It was delivered by a human, but he left without saying a word.”
Ghorith frowned.
Omega was a lawless place, full of the unrighteous who pursued their improper desires with as much zeal as he clung to his faith. Was this an attempt to stop him from continuing his work?
“I know you don’t have a computer,” the minister said. “You may use mine.”
“Thank you,” Ghorith said. “In case it’s a bomb, you should stay away.”
“Of course,” the minister said. “Let me know when you are done.”
*****
He hesitated a moment before inserting the disc into the minister’s computer, then slid it anyway; the gods did not favor those who tried to avoid their fate.
The screen flickered to life and a drell looked back at him. It was a video file.
“Blessings upon you, Ghorith Gheg’ranak,” it said, bowing slightly. “I am a representative of the individual known as the Shadow Broker. I trust you know who that is.”
He nodded to himself. He hadn’t been out of batarian space for more than a couple of weeks before hearing about the galaxy’s premier information broker.
“My employer is aware of your next target, and I have been authorized to inform you that the target has recently joined a pirate band named Fortune’s Hand,” the drell continued. “You are being given this information because the Broker has a team about to take action against them for a reason separate from your own. In the interest of avoiding any unnecessary conflict, my employer is requesting that you enter into a temporary working relationship with the team. If the situation is resolved in a mutually beneficial manner and you demonstrate a good sense of teamwork, the Broker is willing to extend the duration of the relationship.
“A shuttle has been contracted to pick you tomorrow morning at the following time and location,” it said, and a time and place flashed across the bottom of the screen.
“Should you choose to accept the Broker’s offer, be on it,” the drell said. “If not, then I hope matters between you and the team can still be resolved peacefully. Blessings upon you.”
The screen went dark, and Ghorith leaned back in the seat, thinking.
*****
He stepped out of the office and the minster was there.
“It clearly wasn’t a bomb,” the minister said. “What was it?”
“It was a message,” Ghorith said. “If it's true, then the gods have chosen that I continue my work with others.”
PLACE: Omega
*****
“Let us close our service in prayer,” the minister said.
Ghorith Gheg’ranak bowed his head and held out his hands in front him, open so that they may catch any blessings the gods chose to bestow upon him.
It was not a true chapel, but it was where many of the faithful joined to hear the minister read from the Pillars of Strength and then learn the lessons contained therein.
Had someone told him a year ago he would be outside batarian space, stripped of almost everything meaningful in his life, he would have laughed. His father was a high-ranking member in the government and he himself enjoyed a high rank in the elite Special Intervention Unit. He had a good house, a loving family and plenty of slaves; what could possibly happen?
Then the troubles came.
Framed for dealing red sand, stripped of his position, his family imprisoned in a labor camp and him living among the lesser races of the galaxy in one of the most crime-ridden space stations there was, he realized he was not immune to the greater forces at work in the galaxy.
Despair almost got the best of him until one day as he was attempting to avoid a patrol of Red Talons, he ducked into the makeshift chapel his people had built. As he walked in, the minister was warning the congregation about the perils of getting caught up in the physical aspect of life while ignoring the spiritual; all the good things in life had were gifts from the gods but if they were not appreciated they could just as easily be taken away.
It was almost as if the minister was speaking directly to him. True, while he attended the worship services as directed by the Hegemony he did moreso out of a sense of obligation than a true desire.
He knew then he had much farther to travel than his home; he had to begin a new journey, one of faith. According to the Pillars of Strength, the gods only allowed the worthy into the afterlife; those who ignored their teachings, when they died, would be denied entry and reborn in another body. If one’s sins were severe, they would be reborn as a member of another race, a weaker one, such as the quarians or the volus, who needed environmental suits just to stay alive. But if one’s offenses were minor, they would be reborn in a strong body, such as that of a krogan or a turian.
Even as he realized his offenses, he knew he would have to take action to fully repent for what he did; prayers and good intentions were not enough. The gods had blessed with him the gift of biotics and a talent for fighting, so he put them to use, now serving as a bounty hunter, pursuing criminals who attempted to flee justice.
*****
The service ended, he stayed back to ensure the chapel was neat and orderly. He was putting away copies of the Pillars when the minister approached.
“Ghorith,” he called out.
He stopped and faced the minister, bowing in respect.
The minister held out his hand. In it was an OSD.
“This came for you just before the service began,” the minister said. “It was delivered by a human, but he left without saying a word.”
Ghorith frowned.
Omega was a lawless place, full of the unrighteous who pursued their improper desires with as much zeal as he clung to his faith. Was this an attempt to stop him from continuing his work?
“I know you don’t have a computer,” the minister said. “You may use mine.”
“Thank you,” Ghorith said. “In case it’s a bomb, you should stay away.”
“Of course,” the minister said. “Let me know when you are done.”
*****
He hesitated a moment before inserting the disc into the minister’s computer, then slid it anyway; the gods did not favor those who tried to avoid their fate.
The screen flickered to life and a drell looked back at him. It was a video file.
“Blessings upon you, Ghorith Gheg’ranak,” it said, bowing slightly. “I am a representative of the individual known as the Shadow Broker. I trust you know who that is.”
He nodded to himself. He hadn’t been out of batarian space for more than a couple of weeks before hearing about the galaxy’s premier information broker.
“My employer is aware of your next target, and I have been authorized to inform you that the target has recently joined a pirate band named Fortune’s Hand,” the drell continued. “You are being given this information because the Broker has a team about to take action against them for a reason separate from your own. In the interest of avoiding any unnecessary conflict, my employer is requesting that you enter into a temporary working relationship with the team. If the situation is resolved in a mutually beneficial manner and you demonstrate a good sense of teamwork, the Broker is willing to extend the duration of the relationship.
“A shuttle has been contracted to pick you tomorrow morning at the following time and location,” it said, and a time and place flashed across the bottom of the screen.
“Should you choose to accept the Broker’s offer, be on it,” the drell said. “If not, then I hope matters between you and the team can still be resolved peacefully. Blessings upon you.”
The screen went dark, and Ghorith leaned back in the seat, thinking.
*****
He stepped out of the office and the minster was there.
“It clearly wasn’t a bomb,” the minister said. “What was it?”
“It was a message,” Ghorith said. “If it's true, then the gods have chosen that I continue my work with others.”