The Operative and the Alien

When I started this I thought it would be a short story, instead it ended up being almost a hundred pages, don't know what came over me. I hope you guys enjoy this story of plot, smut and intrigue. I had read so many stories about Miranda and I can never get enough, so I decided to contribute myself. I hope you like it, and if you really enjoy my writing I am open for commissioned work :)

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Part 1

As she descended down the stairwell of Omega she quickly found herself being the only human around, and everywhere she went she felt the aliens eye linger. Battarians, krogan, vorcha, they all looked at her with disdain. Humans were not popular here. Battarians looked at humans with hatred and envy, krogans thought humans were weak, and vorchas, well vorchas just hated everyone who wasn't them. This wasn't new to Miranda, she was used to being looked at, in fact every room she entered she always found herself to be the center of attention, and she had learned how to use that to her advantage She commanded every room she was in, and always knew how to get what she wanted.

After walking down the stairwell for what felt like an eternity she finally found herself at the lowest level. The stairwell led into a large open room that connected to several hallways leading to different parts. This wasn't a like the citadel, with its nice architecture, flowers grass and open spaces. This was a mining station, made with naked metal hallways. It was cold, unwelcoming and dark. The hallways were illuminated with weak red lighting, it allowed you to see, but not well.

Along the roof of the hallways were pipes, bringing oxygen and water to the various parts of the station, The pipes were rusty and old, leaking in several places, making the air humid and uncomfortable. The life support systems were old and barely maintained. Miranda wondered if these aliens even understood how screwed they would be if this malfunctioned. She did also make a mental note, if there was ever a need for Cerberus to sabotage the station, the old poorly maintained pipe and life-support system would be a prime target.

She walked into one of the hallways and followed it deeper into the station. Although she knew were she needed to go, Cerberus had provided all the intel she needed, it was still unfamiliar territory. She put one hand on her holster as she walked, wanting to keep her Elkoss Combine M-4 Shuriken ready if the need would arise.

The deeper into the hallway she went, the more crowded it became. The hallway became wider after twenty yards or so, but it actually got more cramped as a consequence of the increasing number of "people" that filled the space. Angry mercs, slavers and other undesirables talked and argued with one another, and even got into fights. Miranda did her best to navigate between all the aliens. As she passed them they all looked at her.

She always found it difficult to understand the emotions of aliens. The krogan's faces were so different from humans, their changing expression was sometimes hard to read. Were they angry? Amused? Constipated? Miranda could never tell, although if a krogan was angry, you would learn soon enough, as it usually ended with a krogan fist coming your way, or a bullet.

Vorchas always looked disgusted, and angry. In her mind those were the only two emotions those inferior beings were capable of. The salarians would seldom reveal their emotions on their faces. Perfectly capable of hiding the true feelings from others, only reveling it when they wanted to. Miranda did have a small amount of respect for the salarians. There was no denying their abilities, if it wasn't for their short lives she was sure they would be the undisputed power in the galaxy. And unlike krogans and battarians, they were capable of higher culture and learning, and brought civilization to the worlds they colonized, rather than destruction and savagery.

As she moved forwad she was forced to press her way between a battarian and a krogan arguing. The krogan's armor was red, and bore the mark of the Blood Pack. They were the largest and most influential organization on this part of station. Calling it an organization might be generous, it was more akin to raving bands of bandits, slavers and mercs, who all happened to were the same color. As she pressed her way between them on her way to her destination she earned a stern look at and a grunt from the krogan.

"Watch it human, your kind are not welcome, and not safe here" he said as he slammed his fist into his chest. Miranda knew, that it was not warning, but a threat. The krogan towered over her, he had to be at least 8 feet tall, if not more. Miranda with her 5'9'' looked like a little helpless child in front of this monster. She knew better than to get on the wrong side of an angry krogan for no good reason. So she quickly moved past him and towards her objective only to stopped by the battarian blocking her path.

His armor was blue, bearing the logo of the Blue Suns mercenary group. She looked up at the battarian. Although smaller than the krogan, he was still taller than Miranda, even if her leather ankle boots added a few inches to her height. She was dressed in civilian clothing. A pair for brown leggings made from synthetic material, ad white tanktop covered with a black leather jacket.

She looked up at his face, and although Miranda found it difficult to read alien faces, she had never struggled with this disgusting species. Of all the species that inhabited the galaxy, Miranda hated battarians the most. Which was not abnormal, the battarians were despised by everyone. When they decided to leave the galactic community on the citadel, they were missed by no one, and the whole galaxy would be better of if they were wiped out she thought to herself as she stared into the four eyes of the alien in front of her.

He wore a big smirk on his face, revealing his jagged yellow teeth. His skin was a putrid brown color and his eyes pitch black. He was revolting to look at, like staring at a rotting corpse, and she felt her stomach turn. Battarians were like a mix between a humanoid alien and insects, like some disgusting hybrid organism. But the worst thing about this repugnant species in Miranda's mind was the scent. They smelled of death and sickness. Old sweat and feces. As if their pheromones were designed to repulse and disgust.

His odor burned her nostrils and she had to focus on keeping her reaction in check, or she might puke all over him. There was no doubt in her mind, battarians were truly the worst thing in the universe, even without thinking about all the atrocities they commit. The slavery, the kidnapping, the raiding and pillaging of human colonies, they truly were a blight upon the galaxy.

Her hand hoovered over her weapon strapped to her thigh as she stared at her obstacle. He however looked relaxed, even amused. Not minding the interruption one bit, the same could not be said for his krogan adversary. She recognized his expression, she had seen it many times thought her life. It was the look of lust, accompanied by smug arrogance. Many men had had that look in front of her before she rejected their advances.

"Don't be rude Trendok" he said with a smirk. "Can't you see the little girl is lost and needs help". As he finished his sentence he boldly moved his hand to grab a fistful of Miranda's ass. Groping it harshly, pinching and needing. It was rough, harsh and uncaring, and Miranda was sure that if she had allowed it to continue her asscheek would be red an sore. She was not going to allow it to continue though.

As the battarian laughed to himself and molested her ass, he most have mistook her passiveness as surrender, a mistake he would regret. He now used both hands to grab her ass and pull her towards him, crushing her large breasts against his armored chest. So close to him she was assaulted by his stench and it was almost enough to make her puke right there. With him being preoccupied with her body, she swiftly grabbed her weapon, placed it against his knee and while looking him in the eye pulled the trigger.

The loud bang echoed throughout the metal hallway as the battarian fell on his ass, screaming while grabbing his knee. Miranda quickly raised her weapon and pointed it at the crowd. Some backed up, others put up their hands, although most didn't move at all. This was omega after all, gunfights were not uncommon here. To Miranda's relief it didn't look like anyone was going to come to this scumbags defense. She turned around and pointed it back at the battarian on the ground, who had the entire time been screaming obscenities at her.

"Hahaha, that's what you get for being handsy Cegar!" the krogan laughed while pointing at the wounded battarian. Miranda returned her weapon to her holster and started walking past the duo. One might think that she overreacted, a little groping could always be handled with a stern talking to, or a slap. She was not inexperienced with unwanted attention from men. But she knew that Omega was different, they only thing they respected here was violence. If you could not prove to capable of violence, you would sooner or later find yourself to be the victim of it. And Miranda was not a victim, she wasn't prey, but predator, and her prey was soon within reach.

"You will fit right in here human" the krogan said as she walked away from the scene. The commotion, and screaming from the battarian faded slowly away as she made her way through the tight corridors of Omega's lowest level.

After what felt like an eternity of walking she finally made it out of the rusty steel corridor and into a large chamber. This room was almost the size of a football field, and Miranda was a little confused how it would fit into the stations lower levels. The room was filled with hundreds, if not thousands of aliens. The sound of shouting, conversation and random noise was so deafening that it was almost hard to hear your own thoughts.

She had entered Omega's black market. Most people would think that all of Omega was a black market, and one would be right, at least in relation to taxation. But this was the core of Omega's illegal operations. Drugs, slavery, assassinations, all could be purchased here, or sold, depending on who you were. There were many stalls, with all manor of illicit goods on display. Every narcotic, toxin or poison in the galaxy could probably be found in this room.

It was shocking to Miranda how brazen it all was. Out in the open, some of the most illegal things imaginable, and both buyers and sellers showed no concern. Miranda knew that the citadel had no authority here, and she knew this place existed, but seeing it with her own eyes was still shocking to her.

She had to admit she didn't recognize most of the items on display. She had no experience with narcotics, and knew only a few of them by name, so to her it just looked like random collections of powders, liquids and pills. But she could see they were popular, the exchange rate was fast. Drugs in one direction, credits in the other. Hundreds of customers served at the same time in this giant illegal bazaar.

However, the worst thing in this room, wasn't the drugs, or the illegal weapon modifications one could acquire. In fact illegal weapon mods, didn't bother her at all, she did own a few herself after all. No, what sent shivers down her spine, and filled her with anger and disgust was the center of the bazaar. In the middle of the room was a large stage, filled with people wearing electronic neck collars. And around them a horde of aliens bidding for their ownership. Slavery so close to alliance space, so in the open. It filled her with rage. Some of the slaves were male, mostly women though, most asari, and some humans. As much as she wanted to kill all the slavers and free the victims, she knew that there was nothing she could do for them. She lowered her head in shame and frustration as she turned her back and walked away.

She started walking along the eastern wall of the room. Or at least she believed it to be the eastern wall. To be perfectly honest she had gotten a bit disoriented on her way down. Her intel had informed her she was looking for a narrow corridor on the eastern side of the market that would lead her to her target. After some time walking she came across a small narrow corridor, only large enough for one person to walk through. Thankfully there didn't appear to be much traffic in this section so she could slip in quickly. The corridor itself was only a few yards before it exited into another room. Not as large as the previous one, and this one wasn't filled with people and stalls. Instead the room was connected to several doors each with a sign over it. The dimly lit room was almost exclusively illuminated by the neon signs advertising the various stores and services that were offered this room. The services they offered were both offensive and illegal, almost as disgusting to Miranda as the scent of battarians. None of them were the reason she was here though. Her target was behind one of the other doors. It had a yellow neon sign written in battarian script she could not read. But she had been informed that meaning could simply be translated to "tattoo place".

This was her mission. This tattoo placed was operated and owned by a battarian called Karvan Prad'goprak. He was now a "tattoo-artist", although most of his work involved marking slaves with their new masters proof of ownership, he did do the occasional tattoo work, for mercs and pirates. Krogan battlemasters wanting the number of kills displayed on his skin, or a turian tattooing his face, even asari "dancers" would sometimes use him to mark their more intimate regions, to entice their customers.

Even though he made a living inking skin for slavers, he used to be far more dangerous. He used to be apart of a organization of battarian slavers led by Garth Krecmob, one of the most vile and cruel battarians in the galaxy. He had been hunted by the citadel and the alliance for years with no success. Even specters had been sent after him, leading to the death of two council specters. But now it was Cerberus doing the hunting, and they would succeed were others failed.

However, Garth was careful, paranoid even, and not someone you could find easily. Former associates were usually killed or would return to battarian space, outside of the reach of the Alliance or the council. But for some reason, Karvan, was not dead, and not in battarian space, which was the reason Miranda was now standing outside his store. He had been very good at covering his tracks. In fact at the moment, only Cerberus knew of his connection to Garth. If Cerberus could not get to Garth directly, they would need another way to find him.

On her omnitool she had installed a prototype AI that could decipher omnitool encryption and give access to another user. The AI was very illegal, and the product of salarian STG's research department, and Cerberus had "borrowed" this invention. There was a problem however. Omnitool encryption were state of the art. The entire galaxy used them, if they were not secured it would mean chaos. That meant that even though the AI could do it, it needed time. Miranda's mission was simple; stay in close proximity to her target to allow the AI to gain access, then leave. She would then have remote access to his omnitool and she could find details regarding Garth's whereabouts, or perhaps even pose as Karvan and lure him out. The time required varied, in the testing Cerberus did it took between 10 to 30 min to complete, and the hacker needed to be within 10 feet.

The solution to these challenges were simple, Miranda would get a tattoo. She could always just have it removed later, and it provided a convenient and safe way to stay close to the target for the time that was needed. Miranda personally had no desire for a tattoo, she found it unattractive to cover oneself in ink. Her porcelain skin was flawless and beautiful, why would she ruin something that was perfect from the start. And she wanted even less for a battarian to put her hands on her and mark her. The next few minutes would be the worst of her life she told herself. But she had never failed a mission, and never failed Cerberus. She had dedicated her life to protecting humanity, she wasn't going to let a little ink stop her from doing what needed to be done, no matter how much she disliked it.

She steeled herself, took a deep breath and opened the metal bulkhead that lead into the establishment. She crossed the threshold and after this moment her life would be changed forever, Miranda didn't know that at the time, but she would soon.

The door led into a small chamber filled with junk, coats and boxes she assumed was ink or other tattoo supplies. At the opposite end of the room hang a dark red curtain over a doorway, covering the inner room from view of the entrance. Through the curtain she heard the distinct noise of a tattoo gun doing its work. And the occasional grunt from from what was obviously a krogan. The room was warm, too warm, and the humidity from the leaking pipes made the environment uncomfortable.

Miranda pulled the curtain aside and walked into the main room. The room was not very large, but it didn't feel cramped either. It was lit with white florescent lighting that created an almost clinical atmosphere, the room itself looked relatively clean, or as clean as rusty metal floors can look, it was Omega after all. In the middle of the room, directly underneath a large lamp hanging from the roof, sat a large krogan. The tattoo bench looked almost like children's furniture underneath the giant alien. He wasn't wearing any armor, in fact he was completely naked. She had never seen a krogan without armor before, and for the first time she got to truly appreciate just how massive they were. His muscles had muscles, his arms giant and his bones created natural armor on his head and torso. This was a walking weapon, and a dangerous one at that. As her eyes wandered across his body they stopped in their tracks when they reached his groin. Between his legs were the largest "weapon" she had ever seen. The root of it were covered with what looked like the same armored plate that covered the krogans forehead. The mast was thicker than her arm and covered in some kind of lubricating mucus. She was left stunned, not only by the complete lack of modesty, but also by the scale of his anatomy.

"I see you like what you see human" she heard a voice say. It snapped her out of her trance and met the eyes of a smirking battarian looking at her.

"Don't be embarrassed, krogans have that effect on most people" he laughed as he returned to tattooing the krogan's torso. The krogan was covered from calf to shoulder in alien symbols she didn't recognize. The krogan grunted again as the ink was again injected into his skin. The tattoo gun was massive, closer to a giant drill than something she would see used to work on humans. Krogans had notoriously thick and durable skin, it made sense that tattooing them would be challenging.

"So, why are you here human?" the battarian questioned. "The only human women down here are slaves, and you have no collar, so why are you here? Did you run away from your master? He continued without moving he gaze from the work he was doing.

For the first time Miranda got a good look at the battarian. He was tall for a battarian, although small compared to the massive beast of a krogan sitting next to him on the bench. The krogan was so large that he couldn't sit when doing his work, he had to stand in order to reach the krogans shoulder. He himself was covered in tattoos as well, or at least the parts of him that was visible, he was thankfully not naked. He was wearing a gray shirt made from synthetic materials, and tight brown pants. They hugged his body revealing a muscular physique underneath. Although most of his torso and legs were covered, tattoos sprang from under his shirt across his arms and up his neck, so she assumed his torso was equally covered. His face was rugged and old, according to the Cerberus intel he was 63 years old, not only old, but old for his profession. His face was scarred and he was blind on the upper right eye. This was an old damaged slaver, maybe this gig was retirement for him. He matched the description of Karvan she had been given.