Mythos Effect

Chapter 19: New Oppurtunities

Nator'Xaeras vas Hupal sat in the bridge of his ship as it came out of FTL transit. The stars came back into focus, glittering dots on the endless black canvass of space. It was quite a humbling sight, he thought. All this was just from one galaxy, barely a drop in the ocean of the universe. It was enough to make a Quarian feel very small.

Fortunately, Nator wasn't one for speculating about being insignificant. There were far more important things to consider; particularly things that could become profitable for him.

If Nator could think of one word that would describe himself, it would be "opportunist." Indeed, in his opinion, it was his greatest trait. If he saw a situation that looked like a good prospect, he would take it, no dithering, no second thoughts; just seize the chance and reap the rewards. And he had a knack for being at the right place at the right time. Admittedly, his intuitions weren't always right, but hey, nobody was perfect.

Nator operated in something of a gray area among the Flotilla. He was what his people called a "purveyor," a sort of mercantile Quarian who was tasked with getting things that the fleet needed. That could be anything from packs of nutrient paste to critical medical supplies. Given that most of the civilized galaxy didn't care much for the Quarians, sometimes purveyors had to go through avenues and do things that weren't strictly speaking legal. As such, Quarians who undertook such a dangerous position were held with great respect.

Unlike most other purveyors, however, Nator had a decidedly prevalent streak of self-interest. He had never tried to hide it; in fact, he was very open about that quirk of his. Since he was taking all the risks and doing all the work, he didn't think it was unfair if he got a modest portion of the rewards before it got distributed to the fleet or simply did a little side job just for himself. Unfortunately, a number of his fellow Quarians didn't agree, and so Nator was tarred with the reputation of being greedy and self-serving. Which, he had to admit, wasn't exactly false.

Ultimately, it made no difference to Nator. At the end of the day, his services were in demand and he always delivered what he promised, so the fleet was willing to overlook his forays into personal gratification. As long as there were opportunities out there, Nator would be out there, waiting for them to knock.

And, right now, he was quite convinced that the biggest one yet was hammering at the metaphorical door.

Idly, he glanced out the viewscreen of his ship's bridge. There, rapidly growing closer, was an immense parade of ships. They were of every stock and style; some were from the days when the Quarians had an actual stellar empire, others purchased or salvaged from other races.

The Migrant Fleet; his old home.

With expert handling, he swung his ship towards one of the crafts. It was a truly massive thing, as long as a dreadnought, but with a great rotating orb as its front instead of a proper bridge. On every side, it was flanked by ships, forming a protective barrier of metal and guns. Several of them were clearly well past their prime, but they still packed plenty of firepower. It would be a foolish assailant indeed who tried his luck here.

As he continued his approach, Nator activated the comms on the dashboard. "This is Nator'Xaeras vas Hupal nar Volsim, requesting permission to dock with the Rayya."

The voice of the traffic controller swiftly answered his request. "Our ship has flagged your vessel as unknown. Verify."

Nator rolled his eyes. Honestly, with all the times he'd come around, it shouldn't be a problem for the controllers to recognize his ship. Granted, he'd gone in for an upgrade or three, but really, it wasn't like he'd gone and bought a whole new ship. Still, no point in making a scene; it wouldn't do to make himself unwelcome right now.