Mass Effect: After Armageddon

1-5: The Citadel Strikes Back
Parking troubles escalate quickly

Though shaken by the recent attempt on their lives, the crew of the Oneironaut turned their attention to more urgent matters: parking permits.

Yasin had recently received a message from the Citadel Docking Authority noting that the Oneironaut was overdue for inspection and its parking permit was set to expire in three days unless brought into compliance with new regulations. Yasin’s snarky response prompted the CDA to threaten to boot the Oneironaut. Yasin turned to a more diplomatic member of the party to ease tensions with the bureaucracy: Lihol.

While one half of the party set their sights on the Department of Spacefaring Vehicles, the other turned to less scrupulous transactions.

Kara had received word from Cur Didleed that he had acquired an experimental drug rumored to ease the come down from a red sand high. Kara speculated that the drug could also be used as a biotic suppressant. She made her way to Bachjret Ward to pick up the shipment, followed by Sirius at a distance for security.

On their arrival at the Bachjret Ward black market, Kara made her way to the side passageway where Cur Didleed did his business. Sirius took up a position in the clothing store across the way. He ducked into a clothing rack to hide from prying eyes. Kara disappeared into the alley.

“You said this drug is experimental,” she said to Cur Didleed. “Do you have data from the clinical trial?”

“I don’t have access to that kind of information,” Cur said. “You’re the doctor. Maybe one of your academic contacts could get that data. All I know is these came out of the Sol system, from someone called Dr. Tartell.”

“Thanks for the info.” Kara took a crate of the drug.

“There’s… something else.”


“I got a message from someone asking to put me in touch with you. Private channel.” Cur seemed embarrassed. “They can do me some big favors. Help me set up my… side business. Take the call? It would mean a lot.”

“Who is it?” Kara asked.

“Didn’t say.”

Kara hesitated. “Patch them through, but don’t tell them who I am.”

“No need for that. They requested you by name.”

“Great.” Kara opened her omnitool and patched Sirius into her comms, running a script to mask his presence from any other listeners.

No connection opened on Sirius’s end. He remained hidden in the clothing rack across the street, aware only that no one had entered or left the alley. A small asari child snuck away from her shopping parents and hid in the clothing rack as well. She looked startled at the grown turian’s presence, then put a stern finger to her lips and hushed him. The vet continued his silent vigil.

“Kara Mihail?” A distorted voice spoke over Kara’s comms.

“Who is this?” Kara asked.

“Someone who knows your crew has run into a problem, and someone who can make that problem go away.”

“What do you want?”

“One of the other passengers on your ship is a wanted person. Handle that and you could be compensated generously.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Kara asked.

“You don’t,” the voice replied. “You don’t know you can trust the other members of your crew either.”

“You’ll need to give me something to prove that you’re legit.”

The voice on the other end of the line hummed. “I’m forwarding you the location of a locker at the docks. Inside you’ll find half of your payment. You’ll get the other half when you’ve done what’s asked of you. But if you take the money and run, I will find you and I will kill you.”

“To be clear, you’re asking me to kill one of them?” Kara asked.

“Kill? Oh, no, nothing so extreme. You would simply have to deliver them to our custody.”

“Which one of them are you after?”

They paused. Something in Kara’s voice must have tipped the mysterious caller off about her suspicions, and it was clear that the feeling was mutual.

“Let’s play a game,” they said. “Why don’t you take a little time and figure it out yourself? If you guess right, the deal is on.”

“How can I contact you?” Kara asked.

The line cut out.

Kara turned to Cur Didleed. “Did they give you contact info?”

“I have the number the call came from,” Cur said. “I can’t promise it’s legit, or that they’ll answer, but they’ll know you tried to reach them.”

“Good enough for me,” Kara said. She left the alley and signaled to Sirius across the street.

With no attempt at stealth, Sirius emerged from the clothing rack. An anxious salarian and asari couple rushed up to him.

“Excuse me, can you help us?” the salarian asked. “Our child – she’s run off! We can’t find her anywhere!”

“Guess you should have kept a better watch then,” Sirius said. He left the couple flabbergasted, rejoining Kara on her way to meet up with the others.

While the other two attended to business on Bachjret Ward, Lihol and Yasin remained on the Presidium to deal with the Citadel Docking Authority. If a bar on the Citadel could be called Purgatory, the office for the Department of Spacefaring Vehicles must have been hell.

People of every species filled rows upon rows of chairs set in a cramped waiting area. Yasin and Lihol took a number – 203. A screen above showed “Currently serving number 105.”

For anyone it would seem a waste of an afternoon. To a salarian, it was a waste of lifetimes.

Lihol stopped the elcor holding ticket 105 and offered to buy it off of him.

“With interest, how much are you offering?” the elcor replied.

“I’ll pay you double the cost of the time you would spend waiting,” Lihol offered.

“Eagerly, that sounds acceptable. Please, allow me to perform a cost-benfit analysis.” The elcor reached for his omnitool, moving at a glacial pace.

Lihol couldn’t stand to wait. He sized up the elcor, made a guess about the irritatingly slow creature’s value, and tossed out a number.

“Affronted! How dare you lowball me so! Indignant, I am an illustrious gentleman who works for no less than the consort herself!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was off by a decimal place.”

“Pleased, oh! A decimal – yes, that is most agreeable. Thank you.” The elcor handed over number 105. Lihol and Yasin made their way to a desk staffed by a bored asari.

Yasin explained his problem – that his permit would expire in three days, but he couldn’t renew it without an inspection that the docking authority wouldn’t schedule for several weeks.

“When was your last inspection?” the asari asked.

“Before the war,” Yasin said.

“Five years ago?” Lihol asked. “You mean your last inspection on the Citadel, right? What about your last inspection at another dock?”

“Yeah… no, I mean that was my last inspection, in general,” Yasin admitted. “But they won’t let me schedule a new inspection until after they’re going to boot my ship!”

“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” the asari said. “Should have made the appointment earlier.”

“Couldn’t we get an extension or something?” Yasin asked.

“You’d need a damn good reason.”

Lihol had just the excuse they needed – a contact who worked in the office of the salarian Councilor herself. He acquired a letter signed by the Councilor’s office and passed it along to the asari.

“I had no idea you were on such an important mission! It’ll be no problem,” the clerk said. She scheduled their inspection in two days at 3:15 pm, muttering that it would be no problem to bump a few quarian vagrants – to Yasin’s disapproval, but the pilot said nothing.

The party reconvened to make preparations for the next day’s inspection – but first, Kara told the others about the suspicious phone call she’d received.

“Which one of us do you think they’re after?” Kara asked. “Not me, or they wouldn’t have called me.”

“People just get annoyed with me,” Yasin said. “They don’t usually want to kill me.”

“It could be me,” Lihol said.

Sirius cut in. “We should report this to C-sec. They need to know if it’s connected to the crash from yesterday.”

The rest of the crew mourned the loss of the money in the locker, but they didn’t try to stop him from calling the information in. They turned their attention to the looming inspection.

Yasin’s cargo hold raised too many red flags to count – more than Yasin knew about, in fact. It took the crew the better part of a day to search his endless leftover cargo and pick out anything that was illegal on the Citadel. Sirius turned a blind eye to the illegal activity, spending his afternoon polishing his guns. Lihol’s epic contacts within the black market helped the other three crew members sell off Yasin’s contraband. The sale earned the three of them another weeks’ supplies – before accounting for Lihol’s 60-40 split.

The Oneironaut itself needed upgrades to bring its eezo emissions into compliance with new legislation on Tayseri Ward. Lihol chipped in to help Yasin buy the new engine parts, and the quarian made quick work of the upgrades. His fast tinkering left the crew with a free evening before their inspection.

“Hey Lihol, do you want to go out for drinks?” Yasin asked, hoping to keep his options open.

Lihol replied with a flat “No.”

So the crew retired to their respective quarters on the Oneironaut, except for Kara. Still hurting from the previous day’s crash, she spent the night recovering at Huerta Memorial.

Yasin and Sirius each went to sleep, but as a salarian, Lihol spent fewer hours sleeping. He spent most of his night reading the rest of the crew’s emails – after all, Yasin had helped him hack into Sirius’s inbox with a little bit of hacking and a winky emoji (the latter, Lihol ignored). Lihol was so engrossed in the turian military gossip on one of Sirius’s email threads with his old squad that he had to do a double take to notice his window no longer overlooked the Citadel docks, but empty space.

“Yasin!” he yelled, running for the bridge. “Get up here!”

The narcoleptic quarian snoozed on.

Lihol kept yelling for the pilot, but his shouts only roused Sirius. They met on the bridge just as an incoming missile rocked the Oneironaut.

Yasin stirred in his sleep. He mumbled something about “café drinks” and rolled over.

Sirius and Lihol searched open space for their assailants, but there was only one craft in range: the Citadel.

Lihol grabbed the comms, searching for C-sec’s frequency. Sirius woke his former squadmate Lorius with a frantic call and shouted for him to call off C-sec’s turrets.

“Stop firing on us!” Lihol found the frequency. “This is the Oneironaut – we’re friendlies!”

“SS Oneironaut, you’re trespassing,” the answering officer said. “Leave Citadel space before we fire on you again.”

“We’re not trespassing! We were just on the Citadel.”

“That’s what they all say,” the officer said.

The nearest Citadel defense turret fired another missile. Lihol dashed to the guns to fire an intercepting shot, but the Citadel’s shot made contact.

The Oneironaut shook. Yasin slumbered on.

“We were just docked on the Citadel!” Lihol tried again.

“Nice try. Your IFF is registered to a known pirate—what?” The C-sec officer spoke to someone off the microphone. He returned a moment later and said, “There’s been a mistake. Lorius will vouch for you. Stay put – the Wings are en route to intercept you. They’ll take you into our lot so we can figure out what’s going on here.”

No longer in the heat of battle, the crew had time to rouse Yasin. The pilot searched the ship logs for a change in the IFF. He found a record that the IFF had inexplicably changed around three in the morning, causing the Citadel docks to release the Oneironaut and attack once in firing range – but Yasin saw no evidence of a system breach.

C-sec took the three passengers into custody and questioned each separately. They all answered truthfully, and their stories added up. Yasin cooperated by handing over the ship’s logs for investigation.

Lorius arrived on the scene a little groggy but troubled by his friend’s continued troubles. He questioned Sirius himself, then shared C-sec’s findings with him. Though their agents investigated the footage of the taxi crash, they hadn’t been able to discern anything more than the party had. They had also searched the locker Kara’s contact had provided. C-sec found a disk inside that contained credentials to access a bank account – but the account’s contents were empty. The only good news was that Lorius’s military contacts in the Sol system were on board with Sirius’s plan to buy up their military surplus for sale to colonists.

The group left C-sec shaken. Joined by Kara the next morning, they decided that staying on the Citadel to search for their assailant would be too risky.

They set their sights on new opportunities in the Sol system, where they could only hope their problems would not follow.

1-4: Mission AccompliOH SHIT
A shopping spree on the Citadel gets ugly

The crew of the Oneironaut returned from a deep space rendezvous with a battered ship, an account full of shiny new credits, and no clue about the contents of the mysterious box they just delivered for an asari named Amira. Safely back on the Citadel, they set about spending their rewards.

As the owner of the account, Lihol acted as an intermediary and wired the rest of the team’s funds to their personal accounts. The payment should keep them up and running for about two weeks. Yasin took the damaged Oneironaut to a mechanic who assured him that it should be back up and running within a day.

Together, the squad traveled to Bachjret ward to shop, where Sirius hoped to acquire a new sniper rifle. Kara introduced her teammates to her black market contact, a drug-running volus named Cur Didleed.

Kara replenished the group’s medical supplies, but had to stretch her resources thin to afford it. (Minor consequence: Fatigued)

Lihol’s excellent resources allowed him to acquire some exceptional new shields and armor.

When Sirius asked about a sniper rifle, Cur Didleed confessed that his business was currently limited to medical supplies and drugs – along with his passion project, pimping, which is as yet unsuccessful. He redirected Sirius to a former asari commando, Narshelle, who had just what he was looking for.

Yasin fulfilled his promise to help Sirius buy the new rifle. However, Sirius was caught recording Cur Didleed and Narshelle’s illegal activity so that he could report them. Kara calmed down a furious Cur Didleed by making Sirius delete the footage and promising that she would not bring him back to the black market in Bachjret ward.

On their way back to the Presidium, each party member reflected on how their lives had changed since the mass relays fell duing the Reaper War five years ago.

Yasin spent the war running cargo for the turian resistance in the Apien Crest. Unfortunately, the fall of the relays left him stranded with a shipment of red sand in heavily law-abiding turian space. He spent the next three years frantically trying to get rid of the drugs – to no avail – and breathed a heavily ventilated sigh of relief when the relay was finally repaired.

Sirius, a loyal turian military recruit, served under Adrien Victus on Earth. He saw many friends, comrades, and innocent civilians brutalized during the war. Though it has left its scars, there is no bond as strong as the one he shares with his fellow soldiers who survived the day the reapers fell.

Kara, born on Earth, was also there on the ground during the Reaper War. She was fairly young during the worst of the war, and there’s no doubt she has some traumatic memories from that time. However, it also gave her some of the best “hands-on” medical training imaginable. She also would have had experience with indoctrination and reaper physiology. Like Sirius, she has seen what happens when the best and worst of the galaxy is crammed into one solar system and forced to recover from a brutal war – with no aid for years until the other systems’ mass relays started coming back online.

Lihol spent the war working for the salarian government on Sur’Kesh. The reapers did not hit the salarian homeworld as hard as most of the others during the war – in fact, salarians who spent the war on the homeworld were more likely to suffer attacks from Cerberus. Lihol likely had access to a wide spread of war-related political and diplomatic intelligence, particularly information pertaining to “the Tuchanka incident” and human terrorist organizations like Cerberus.

Back in the present, the group boarded a space taxi to the Presidium. They never made it there.

The taxi’s autopilot failed suddenly as it should have rounded a corner – and barreled towards the tunnel wall at full speed.

Sirius lunged for the manual controls. He fumbled. The taxi jerked forward even faster.

Kara put up a barrier around the team just in time. Their taxi hit the wall at full speed. The impact dealt the team heavy damage, but Yasin’s rapid repairs slowed their second impact as the taxi fell to the ground. The team barely escaped with Kara’s medical supplies before the taxi exploded and left Yasin and Kara unconscious.

Then the sniper attacked.

Sirius looked up, ready to shoot back. Unable to spot the attacker in the chaotic traffic above, he and Lihol dragged their allies to cover in some maintenance tunnels.

With help from Sirius’s old war buddy, a c-sec officer named Lorius, the team made it to safety at Huerta Memorial Hospital. Once everyone was back on their feet, Lorius took them back to c-sec to review the security footage. There, they identified signs of an invisible attacker dropping onto their taxi from above. Lorius warned them that anyone with access to such good cloaking technology likely had some friends in high places.

Once they learned all that they could from the security footage, Sirius asked Lorius to help him find work: he proposed that the military surplus in the Sol System from the war could be sold to settlers fighting off pirates in contested territory. Lorius agreed: he said he would look into their old military connections and see what he could do.

But the attempted murder cast a shadow over the prospect of new cargo. How will the squad track down their invisible would-be assassin?

1-3: No Questions Asked
Complications arise delivering the mystery box

The Oneironaut returned to Citadel space through the Serpent mass relay with four days left to deliver a mysterious package. The box, a featureless rectangle about a half a meter long by one square foot, yielded no information to omnitool scans. The crew had determined that they couldn’t learn anything more about its contents without opening it – something they had promised the asari seller not to do. They opted not to break their word.

The crew passed one day traveling to an obscure corner of the Boltzmann nebula, adjacent to Serpent. While Yasin spent the day flying, the rest of the crew attended to other tasks. Kara spent the day treating her crewmates’ injuries from their fight with the unidentified turian pirates. While Sirius wasn’t cleaning his guns, he sat on the crate and meditated – also guarding it from potential interference from other members of the crew.

Lihol reached out to his government contacts to learn if any of his new traveling companions were hiding anything nefarious. Kara and Yasin escaped notice on official records, not from innocence but utilizing their underground contacts and technical skills to keep their records clean. Sirius, however, proved to have a more interesting military record than expected. The turian remains unaware that Lihol has learned one of his darkest secrets.

At the end of a day’s travel, the Oneironaut approached an asteroid at the target coordinates. A private comms signal hailed them from inside the rock.

“You have the package from Amira?”

“Yes,” Lihol answered. “You have the money?”

“The compensation will be routed to the account number provided. Approach.”

Lihol and Yasin exchanged a glance – neither had given an account number to the asari from the Apien Crest. Lihol switched from the private channel to broadcast: “There seems to be confusion, I didn’t provide an account number. Arrange alternate payment or I will find a buyer.”

After a pause, a new voice came over the comms channel. Its tenor fell in the range of an asari, feminine human, or medium-to-low pitched salarian speaker.

“Who is this, where’s the krogan?” the new voice asked.

“We’re an intermediate. There was some conflict with the krogan,” Lihol answered.

“I don’t have time for bullshit,” the speaker said. “Dock and we’ll make an exchange.”

The crew gripped their weapons as the Oneironaut pulled into a small dock built into the side of the asteroid. Yasin kept a close eye on the station’s heat signatures, scanning for weapon systems. Sirius took a position in the airlock hidden beneath a tarp, hoping it would allow him to catch their opponents by surprise.

Lihol and Kara stood with the package when the airlock opened. An armed retinue of turians met them on the other side. Their opponents outnumbered them easily.

“What the hell is that?” The asari leader pointed at the tarp concealing Sirius. Her no-nonsense tone wavered: “Are you hiding under a blanket?”

The asari’s mockery coaxed Sirius out from under his tarp. There weren’t many places to hide in an airlock.

The leader regained her composure. “Place the box on the ground and back away,” she commanded.

The team complied.

A tense moment passed, but the Oneironaut’s crew did not fire and neither did the turians. The asari wired two weeks’ worth of funds into an account that Lihol provided.

Yasin watched the confrontation from the cockpit. Despite his best efforts to stay prepared for trouble, he succumbed to narcolepsy and fell into a deep sleep.

The deal done, the other three returned to the ship ready to bolt. The Oneironaut did not undock. They yelled for Yasin to pull away from the station – their scans already showed turrets heating up on the asteroid. Kara ran to the cockpit and kicked Yasin in the head.

That roused him.

Yasin started a quick retreat, but not quick enough. The turrets fired on their rickety little ship. The Oneironaut trembled.

Lihol ran to the ship’s defense tower to fire back, but it was two turrets on the station against their one. Yasin struggled to outmaneuver their hail of missiles.

An idea came to Sirius – a way to even the odds. He strapped himself into an EVA suit, making sure to grab a lifeline and a rifle, and jumped out of the airlock. His first shot blasted an enemy turret to debris. Between Sirius’s sniper skills and Lihol’s efforts on the main guns, they took out the station’s defenses completely.

Finally clear, Yasin flew the Oneironaut far and fast. Their little ship had sustained some damage, but with no major breaches or systems failures, they were free to make their way back to the Citadel knowing they had completed a minor milestone in their journey.

1-2: Hidden Dangers
Pursued by customs agents and pirates

After successfully extracting the salarian heiress from a hostage situation, the Oneironaut made port at Palaven's capital city, Cipritine. On arrival they made immediate contact with some of Yasin's fiercest nemeses: Palaven customs officials.

Though Kara's shipment of medical supplies quickly passed inspections as aid for ongoing Reaper War recovery efforts, the rest of the Oneironaut's cargo proved trickier. Kara completed the sale to her middleman in exchange for a week's funds for the crew.

Yasin attempted to alleviate customs' suspicions about his cargo by yelling, “NONE OF THEM ARE DRUGS.”

This did not go over well.

The customs officials' extremely thorough search revealed a few small pieces of contraband that even Yasin didn't know about. However, the most critical piece — the mysterious crate that the crew had agreed to deliver to an equally mysterious set of coordinates — escaped notice with Sirius's help. He deftly hid the crate in a box of medicine that had already been approved, then moved it to his quarters when the inspectors were distracted with Yasin's other cargo.

Lihol, too, had a mission to finish on Palaven. He escorted the heiress back to the Salarian Union's embassy on Palaven. Neither of them spoke a word during their taxi ride to the embassy. No thanks from the heiress, no questions from Lihol. Lihol completed his mission and then they parted.

Upon his return to the docks, Lihol tried to part company with the rest of the Oneironaut's crew as well. Sirius, however, had other ideas.

"I finished my mission. I'm done here," Lihol said.

"You and Yasin made the deal with that suspicious asari about the mystery box," Sirius said. "You're staying until that's done."

"Fair enough," Lihol said. The asari had promised there would be profit in it, after all.

So the crew packed up and started towards their destination — a remote set of coordinates in an asteroid field of the Serpent nebula. An unfamiliar ship hailed them the moment they left Palaven airspace.

The turian on the line ordered them to hand over the salarian — or else. The crew conferred. Yasin replied that they would surrender Lihol when the other ship docked with them.

Lihol waited in the airlock. Kara stood to his right, Sirius to his left.

The enemy turians docked, opened the airlock, and saw they had been had.

Shots fired on both sides. For every hostile the Oneironaut's crew took down, another one appeared. Kara's field medicine could only do so much with the team so outnumbered. They fell back.

As the firefight raged, Yasin sent out a distress call. The Turian Hierarchy's border patrol responded swiftly. The rest of the squad managed to hold their attackers back long enough for Yasin to undock, and he stayed awake long enough to outmaneuver the enemy ship until help arrived.

With their attackers in custody, the crew of the Oneironaut was finally free to turn their backs on the Apien Crest… for now. But as they neared the mass relay, Sirius shared an observation that had been troubling him.

"The face paint those turians were wearing didn't belong to any clan I know," he said, "but I recognized it. It's the same pattern from that group at the bar on the refueling station."

Whoever they were, they were up to no good. The crew could only hope to leave them behind as they made their way back to Citadel space.

1-1: An Adventure is Born
Cargo: One mysterious package and a hostage

En route to deliver supplies and retrieve a hostage from Palaven, the crew of the Oneironaut stopped at a gas depot just inside the Apien Crest. While Yasin arranged repairs from his most recent episode of falling asleep at the wheel, Kara observed that the station had limited medical facilities despite its proliferation of weapon shops. Lihol and Sirius killed time at a sports bar.

Tensions between the bar patrons – a group of five turians with facepaint unfamiliar to Sirius, an asari, and a krogan – threatened to boil over during the biotiball game on TV. A brawl was about to break out when Sirius pulled out his pistol and blasted the krogan’s shotglass. His warning shot backfired. The krogan pulled out a shotgun, turning his aggression from the other turian to Sirius.

Lihol promptly stood up and walked out of the bar.

Sirius attempted to tumble into the cover of a table, but his spectacular failure left the entire bar in stitches. The krogan laughed. He fired a warning shot at the ceiling and told Sirius that all would be forgiven if Sirius replenished his drink.

Kara and Yasin rushed to the bar after hearing gunshots and a terse explanation from Lihol. Kara sussed out the situation immediately, but loudly let it slip that Sirius had no money to buy the krogan a drink. Yasin deflected the krogan’s attention to his “artwork” (the scorch marks his gun left on the ceiling). The krogan thought this was so hilarious that he bought a round of ryncol for Sirius, Kara, and Yasin. Yasin’s fast friendship with the krogan nearly soured with his clumsy attempt to pour out the toxic drink – Sirius swept in to distract by challenging the krogan to a drinking contest.

Miraculously, Sirius won. He took a quick selfie with the passed-out krogan.

He asked Kara to distract the asari while he took his selfie, uncertain about the relationship between the asari and krogan.

Kara’s drunken distraction? “Hey, look over there at those turians.”

The asari started asking Kara questions about the turians, like why she should be watching them and what Kara knew about them. When it became clear that Kara was too drunk to answer these questions, she addressed Lihol, who had returned to the bar when the gunshots stopped.

Lihol responded to the asari’s questions with suspicion and a lack of interest, but Yasin stepped in when the asari proposed a business arrangement. He created a glitchy drone to escort the drunken Sirius and Kara back to the ship while the sober ones talked business.

The asari led Yasin and Lihol to an airlock. She stepped inside. They followed. She closed the door behind them.

In the privacy of the airlock, the asari told them that the krogan from the bar had agreed to deliver a package for her. She offered a hefty reward if they would deliver it instead – on the condition that they do not ask questions. Under no conditions could they open the box.

Lihol confronted her about the turians, asking if they should expect trouble. The asari admitted that the group of turians from the bar, among others, might try to intercept the package. She then threatened that any reward someone else might offer for reselling it would not be worth crossing her. In spite of the threats, Yasin and Lihol accepted the terms. The package had already been loaded into the cargo hold when they returned to the Oneironaut: an unlabeled box, about two feet long by one foot in width and depth.

The delivery coordinates led back to the Serpent nebula, but the crew opted to continue on to Palaven first. Though Yasin fell asleep for a few hours, his drones kept the ship on course. The crew arrived safely a day later.

Lihol requested to deal with the hostage situation first – turian soldiers had taken a salarian heiress captive, he said, and he had been sent to negotiate her release. The rest of the crew agreed, since delivering the medical relief supplies to Palaven was not as time-sensitive.

The Oneironaut approached a turian vessel in orbit around Palaven. As Yasin began docking procedures, however, his narcolespy kicked in and he went into a waking dream.

“Turn around!” he yelled. “There’s a giant face!”


The rest of the crew freaked out – Reapers? – but then he threw the ship into a series of barrel rolls and sent them tumbling. Their shouts managed to snap Yasin out of his dream before the ship crashed or fled too far. Lucid once more, Yasin completed a docking procedure so stellar that it almost made up for his narcoleptic shenanigans.

Lihol enlisted Sirius to stand behind him and look intimidating. Kara opted to stay in the cockpit and make sure that Yasin stayed alert in case they needed to make a quick exit.

Lihol and Sirius crossed into the other ship’s airlock. Lihol tried to open the door onto the other ship. It didn’t budge.

“Are you here to offer a concession?” a turian voice asked over the intercom.

“I came to retrieve the heiress,” Lihol said.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands.”

“I think I am.”

After a few more tense exchanges, the turian agreed to speak face to face. The airlock door opened to reveal two armed turians in military uniform, a man and a woman. The salarian heiress stood handcuffed between them. Sirius spotted a third turian hiding out of sight around the corner.

The turians accused the salarian government of hoarding resources that they only had because the Reapers hadn’t done as much damage in salarian space as they had to turians. They demanded that the Salarian Union send relief and negotiate preferential trade deals. Lihol reached into his pocket. Both turians aimed at his head.

He pulled out a datapad and ran some numbers.

“Alright, I need to make a few calls,” he bluffed, but he could tell that they hadn’t bought the lie. He sighed. “Looks like things have really gotten Sirius.”


Lihol whipped out two concealed pistols and fired one at each of the turians.

The first shot took out the woman’s shields in one hit. The second missed the man entirely. Sirius stepped in to back Lihol up – the turian soldiers got in a round of fire before Kara came running. Her biotics dazed the male turian soldier.

Sirius took out the hidden soldier with a single sniper shot. When the female turian took another hit, she grabbed the heiress and retreated around a corner. Kara rushed forward to patch up Sirius’s gunshot wound with her field medic skills.

In the midst of the chaos, sounds of a scuffle came from around the corner. Soon, shots fired on the male soldier from the spot where his ally had just been. Lihol seized the distraction to take him out. He ran after the heiress, but when he got there, the female turian’s body slumped on the ground.

“About time,” the heiress said. “Now let’s get out of here.”

Prologue: Oneironauts Assemble!
Four adventures united the crew of the Oneironaut

Adventure 1


I've been sitting at a bar for the last few days, trying to decide what to do after my honorable discharge.  I'm used to adrenaline pumping and moments of tense action after long, careful planning.  This aimlessness bothers me.  I need a purpose. I’m Bored Of Civilian Life.


(Thinking to myself that this could be a good opportunity for me to easily acquire some protection, I approach the obviously militant and bored Turian). "You know, once you've done this cargo run, I could have some longer term work for you. I get shot at often enough that I could use someone who could shoot them first. 


The ship being hauled through an asteroid belt while our pilot is asleep is a less than pleasant way to be awoken suddenly. I value my sleep, although not as much as our pilot. I could wake him properly or with a stim pack, but I opt for a Violent Wake-Up Call. 

Then back to the excuse of a medical center to make sure it hasn't gotten too badly destroyed in the chaos. I need either caffeine or a drink.


Adventure 2


Flee At First Shot: Let's say I went into a hostage situation on a ship controlled by that aggressive "Terra Firma" party of Humans. Let's say that my negotiation skills, normally quite appreciated by the slower species, land a tad flat. Let's say I being chased by rifle and biotic wielding felons. Want to lend a hand?


Despite my Overwhelmingly Terrible Attempts at Negotiation—it turns out yelling at angry mobs only makes them angrier, and seeing a human helping a non-human is not something Terra Firma looks happily on—I manage to hold them off long enough to get the two of us behind cover and looking for an exit. I can only hope that another friendly face will do better at getting us out. 


Back on our ship, I attempt to disrupt the scenario by using the ancient Quarian Technique: Ramming Speed. After crashing the ships and nearly causing a hull breach on both ships, Lihol's negotiations position is enhanced enough that they are able to negotiate a cease-fire.


Adventure 3


Fast Repairs On The Vomit Comet: I fell asleep at the wheel. I only wake up when we got hit by an asteroid. We lost stabilizing thruster and have begun spiraling in an asteroid field. I'm the only one who knows how to fix it. Does anyone want to take over on the wheel while I go fix it?


Calling on my years of military training and survival expertise, I hurry to Do What Needs to be Done.  I can't say this is the first time I've ended up in a situation like this, even if it's not my forte.  But I'm definitely going to be mentioning this to C-Sec.  Not that it will stop me from taking a fare again, provided the price is right.


I strap myself in and hope that I we don't crash—I have a lot of things left to accomplish. I take careful mental note of the others actions, noting that if we don't die I will owe my life to the Turian, and I Always Pay My Debts.


Adventure 4


Friends in Low Places: We need to get the medical supplies, and I know a guy who knows a guy. It's not in the best part of the Citadel, but what's actually in good condition these days anyways? And well, getting anyone to bargain with him can be a little shady. What better way to get to know each other.


Endless Leftover Cargo: I offer to help by bringing along three things to bargain for supplies: Unidentified blood bags, boxes of pirated vids with Hanar subtitles, and a very accurate pistol that occasionally misfires. 


Sighing, I pick through the junk and identify the items that the Hierarchy will not appreciate.  Or allow.  Some of these films are Hanar smut!  After giving an intimidating look at the dealer, who seems to be considering something nefarious while eyeing our weapons, I pick up the last load of supplies and follow our medic on board.  A job is a job, after all, no matter where it comes from.  Not my place to judge their acquaintances, but I Always Have an Eye Out, just in case.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.