– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –?
Zedd stared at the message, fingers drumming against the holo-table's edge as he stared at the message on his omnitool again. Who the hell is this guy? He frowned a half-second later as he repeated the thought through his head for what felt like the dozenth time. And how the hell did they get my contact info?
There was a small part of him—the part that had survived on paranoia and caution—that immediately tensed at the idea of being found so easily. Two minutes ago, some random asshole had messaged Victory Innovation's brand new company account. Which was weird, since VI was technically just a name and an extranet address right now. He didn't even officially have a company office yet.
The whole company thing was just something he'd had thrust in front of him when he'd joked to Shen-Abraham and his cronies that he didn't even register his business. And before he knew it, he had a whole license ready for him with privileges he didn't even think were entirely legal.
All he had to do was put a name to it.
And he had.
Victory Innovations. It had a ring to it that he couldn't deny, even if the circumstances were far from what he'd imagined. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to be tied down to this colony long-term, but having a legitimate business gave him options. Options meant freedom, and freedom meant not being at anyone else's mercy again.
"Hey ADAM," he called out, eyes still fixed on the floating text. "You mind pulling up the extranet for... whatever the hell an 'Urdnot Wrex' is?"
The AI's reply came with that familiar dry drawl. "Sure thing, boss. Civilian channels only?"
"Yeah." Zedd's mouth twisted. "No point ending up on somebody's radar just 'cause I'm curious."
"Got it. Processing public archives now."
The holo-table flickered, and results started populating:
CITADEL NEWS NETWORK
"Omega Security Report - 2177"
...independent contractor Urdnot "Red Storm" Wrex successfully prevented major gang uprising in Lower Wards. Property damage estimated at [REDACTED]. When asked for comment, the Krogan Battlemaster reportedly laughed and left...
[ARTICLE TRUNCATED]
COLONIAL DEFENSE BULLETIN
"New Canton Raid Thwarted"
...credit given to independent contractor, identified as veteran mercenary Urdnot Wrex. Colonial officials note zero civilian casualties despite significant structural damage to...
[ARCHIVED ARTICLE - 2173]
"Huh." Zedd's eyebrows lifted, as he muttered to himself. "He's a Krogan?"
He stared as the results cascaded across his screen. Lots of entertainment vids, colony defense reports, mercenary listings. Not only a krogan, but a famous krogan merc. Really famous. As in 'probably shouldn't be messaging a random colonial teenager' famous. "Well, shit," he spat under his breath.
He knew about krogan. Everyone did.
The galaxy's favorite object lesson in 'fuck around and find out'... on both ends, which was kind of the biggest reason to take said lesson seriously. Huge bastards that looked like someone tried to squeeze a T-Rex into plate armor, then gave it anger issues. The salarians had uplifted them to fight the rachni with all new fancy toys, then got scared when their new attack dogs kept growing bigger teeth.
So they'd neutered the entire species with a plague so Biblical that even God might raise an eyebrow..
Two hundred thousand credits… He found himself considering it. That would buy a lot of independence. Considering he dropped most of what the colony gave him as a reward into his fledgling start-up, it would be a little bit of cushion for him to live off. Still, though…
More search results. Mercenary reviews. Security contracts. Public warnings. The name "Red Storm" kept coming up, along with "Red Shadow", the "Wandering Warlord", the "Survivor", it didn't fucking end. "This is all kinds of crazy."
"Affirmative," ADAM replied. "Would you like me to continue?"
"Yeah, keep it rolling."
MERCENARY REVIEW BOARD
Public Rating: ★★★★★
"Worth every credit. Hired for colony defense. Entire pirate ship changed course when we broadcasted who was planetside."
- Anonymous Client, 2161
COLONIAL SECURITY FEEDS
WARNING: The following contractor requires special insurance coverage:
URDNOT WREX
- Excessive Force Rating: EXTREME
- Collateral Damage: SIGNIFICANT
- Effectiveness: UNMATCHED
Note: "Property can be replaced. Your lives cannot." - Direct quote
Zedd's fingers stilled their drumming. A Krogan. Not just any Krogan—apparently one famous enough to have his own highlight reel. His eyes tracked back to the message, that offered price hanging in the air like a dare.
"Well shit." His voice carried that particular tone of someone realizing they might have stumbled into something interesting. "ADAM, what's the going rate for high-end Krogan mercs these days?"
"Average contract fees for top-tier Krogan security specialists go from 75 to 150 credstacks per operation, boss." The Virtual Intelligence responded back with something that sounded like an approving tone. "Urdnot Wrex demands significantly higher rates."
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Zedd's mouth quirked. "So he's not exactly hurting for credits."
"You got it, boss. Would you like me to compile his known successful operations?"
"Nah." Zedd straightened, stretching his back until something popped. "Think I got the picture."
He blinked, raising an eyebrow as his omnitool pinged again.
From: Urdnot Wrex
To: Victory Innovations
Subject: Re: That Toy of Yours
That sonic hammer thing. The one you used to turn those batarian heads into paste.
200,000 credits. Yes or no?
Zedd snorted, fingers dancing across the omni-tool interface as he pulled up a reply window. The response came easy, casual:
To: Urdnot Wrex
From: Victory Innovations
Subject: Re: Re: That Toy of Yours
Don't get out of bed for less than 500k.
He hit send before he could think better of it. Total bullshit. He'd built the thing high off his ass on stims, trying not to die. Not like it mattered—no way a Krogan merc, even a famous one, would—
The reply pinged back almost instantly, popping up on his open message tab:
From: Urdnot Wrex
To: Victory Innovations
Subject: Now You're Thinking
750k. I want something that'll make krogan piss themselves. Something that'll have vorcha telling stories. Make me a weapon worth remembering, whelp.
Zedd stared at the screen. Blinked. Read it again. "Huh."
A slow grin spread across his face. The kind of grin that said someone was about to make very poor life choices.
"Boss?" ADAM's tone carried a hint of amusement. "Your heart rate just spiked."
"Yeah?" Zedd's fingers were already twitching, mind racing through modifications, improvements, possibilities. "Wonder why." His fingers flew across the haptic interface.
To: Urdnot Wrex
From: Victory Innovations
Subject: Re: Now You're Thinking
You'll need to pick it up in person.
Gonna take a few days to build something worthy of the "Red Storm."
He paused, then added: Also, how the fuck did you get this address?
The reply came even faster this time.
From: Urdnot Wrex
To: Victory Innovations
Subject: Re: Re: Now You're Thinking
Kid, half the galaxy and all the Terminus saw what you did. Some of us just saw it more clearly than others. Two weeks. Don't disappoint me.
- Urdnot Wrex sent 375,000 credits.
As he closed the message and stared at the bank notification, he could feel it—that familiar itch in his brain, ideas starting to stack and tumble and connect. The Vibro-Bursta had been a rush job, which made sense given his whole situation. I'm pretty sure it was originally a sonic drill I merged with a sledgehammer and overclocked or something… He honestly didn't remember that much of what he had slapped together when his thoughts were moving faster than light and his hands could barely keep up. But now...
His eyes drifted to the workshop corner where a bunch of mining tools rested, ones he'd bought to redesign as part of Victory Innovations whole… deal. He hadn't wanted to make weapons yet, but this was tempting. A part of him that had been growing steadily since he woke up in that hospital bed recognized opportunity when it knocked. If he was going to make something of himself beyond just the weird kid who fixed things, he needed connections.
Isolating himself could only go so far. He still needed more. Like… Visibility.
On his terms, of course, but still, being entirely off the grid meant being entirely without influence.
"I mean…" He tapped his fingers on the table. It wasn't part of the plan, honestly. Building a reputation for custom tools and tech first, then leveraging that into something bigger was the idea, but someone like this… Contacting him first, and with payment already up front… Being honest, opportunities like this didn't come along often. "Hey ADAM?"
"Yes, boss?"
"Pull up everything we've got on Krogan physiology. Might as well make this interesting."
The table's surface lit up with new projections, and Zedd felt that crooked grin spreading across his face. Seven hundred and fifty thousand credits. For something he'd cobbled together while high off his ass.
"Alright, big guy," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what kind of toy you really want." He'd been drifting since he arrived, letting others chart his course. Maybe it was time to grab the helm himself.
His hands were already moving, making motions in the air that the holotable in front of him translated to hard light. Behind him, the two maintenance drones rolled closer, their curiosity almost palpable.
His grin widened.
Time to build something special.