Deep within a chemical coma, the Vorcha sleep. Long tendrils, rooted to the Omega-4 relay itself, and tended to by a fair sized mound of biomass, provide them with nutrients within the oxygenated fluids of their respective infested pustule.
Microorganisms lightly attacked the clusters of non-differentiated cells, allowing the Vorcha's own biology to create stronger cells with each generation created. Thicker skin, denser muscles, stronger bones. All by using their own capabilities, simply in a sped up process. The cells replenished themselves much too slowly, but a chemical slurry sped it up without altering the genetics of the individual Vorcha.
They adapted greatly during this short time, adapted more than they might have with their 20 year life span, but Blacklight ensured they remained Vorcha.
For theirs was a beautiful biology. No longer in a state of evolution, but individual adaptation. It really was a beautiful system, one Blacklight admired. Even if they could apply this to themselves, here was a species whose planet was so hostile, it was a miracle life managed to spring on it at all.
Blacklight watched the cells become stronger and stronger, and admired its complexity.
Saleon looked in the mirror, his face shifting through constant emotions, none of which he felt. His face turned blank as he quirked his head.
"Hmm, not quite the same as when I stuck the syringe in him," said Saleon as he practiced the faces again.
He did this for a few minutes before growing bored and leaving the room. As always, Nel was out there waiting for him. Saleon smiled a genuine smile.
"Hello Nel, ready to see what we have today?"
The Varren stood and took his place next to the Salarian. Saleon patted the beast on its head as he moved away to move to the cells. As he approached the first one he sighed when he saw the blue green fluids on the window. He moved around to see yet another failure.
"We really need to get better test subjects," said Saleon as he looked down at the puddle of liquified Salarian within the cell.
Laying at the front of the cell was a Salarian skeleton, though most of the bones seemed to be dissolved or in the process of dissolving. A clear fluid with occasional spots of color in it pooled around the remains. Most of the organs were little more than a slurry of biological material.
"Some genetic quirk perhaps, I must admit I did not see this one coming. Why can't they just take the mutations as they should? This is getting us nowhere, even after we got so close with that last one."
Saleon sighed. Nel nuzzled his side, and in response Saleon knelt down and looked his creation in the eye, petting it with the utmost care.
"You understand don't you Nel," said Saleon as he smiled at his most prized creation. The varren licked Saleon's face and Saleon chuckled.
"I'm going to have to make a call, see if anyone has any Salarian slaves they don't need," said Saleon before he turned back to the remains.
"No way I am letting you eat that, maybe the next one will be a bit more solid."
Fun and leisure are important to any society. If the masses are not content, they will rebel. Slaves were no different. Garlen was a Turian. Once a fresh soldier, he found himself a slave to a wealthy Batarian. The implant in his brain shackled him to the will of another, but he was not content. His actions were not fully his own. He could act, he could do as he pleased, but if he took it too far, the implant activated and he found himself without even those small comforts.
There is no limit to the amount of terrible and grotesque things we are willing to do to survive, and while Garlen would go so far as to say he was willing to lick the boot of his master to live another day, he hated it, hated every moment of it. Many times he found himself staring at a knife, imagining shoving it into the bastard's eyes.
Garlen was no fundamentalist. He did not believe any belief was so true that it was worth sacrificing his life for, and killing his master would only lead to his own death. It was best to be content in the soul crushing tragedy of life, than wallow in it. Fake life had no authenticity to it, but at least he was alive.
The Turian sighed as he scratched at the scar at the base of his skull, where the implant was located. He stood alongside his Batarian master, who was looking upwards at a very massive screen displaying one of the higher caste Batarian leaders, Overlords, whatever they were called Garlen didn't really care. He listened to the speech anyway. Not for any real reason, just to pass the time.
"Loyal subjects, I am Dakira Brorcomon of the High Council, and today I stand before you, humbled by the actions of a slave."
Garlen watched as a Batarian slave was escorted forward to the podium. He seemed uncomfortable.
"This is Bardon of the Master Slave Caste. He, through actions, not words, has opened my eyes to the injustice of how we treat our lowers. Is it not the burden of the higher caste to ensure those below us are well taken care of, is it not our duty to know that we, as their betters, must ensure that their existence is without pain? After all, where would we be without the lowest of the castes? Their eternal service is what allows our society to function as it does."
Garlen blinked. Was this High Caste Batarian saying something good about a slave? Well, trying to say something good, anyway? That... That doesn't happen. He watched the screen with interest.
"I say the slaves, regardless of species, are a priceless commodity, one we could not function without. I shall bring to the attention of the High Council my plans for the future. A future where Slaves are treated with the respect they deserve. Where they can freely act on behalf of their master. A future where the casual destruction of their lives is outlawed. A brighter future, for us all."
Freely act on behalf of their masters? Garlen though that this guy really didn't understand what the word freely meant.
"What a fool."
Garlen turned to his own master, who stared up at the screen with contempt.
"Slaves are property, not people. Such a foolish notion. I have never heard such drivel in all my life."
Garlen said nothing.
"Come Turian, we have actual work to do. Let the council have their little talks. It won't change anything."
Garlen really didn't care. He just wanted to get the day over with and relax with a bowl of slop.
The red core of the Omega-4 relay glowed bright, before a large ship exited FTL speed. Blacklight worked quickly, the tendrils detaching themselves as they moved to the ship itself. Chemical propulsion and biotic might enabled four large pod-like bioships to swiftly catch up with the Collector Cruiser and cling to it with microscopic barbs.
They slithered across the hull, looking to see if there was a possible way in. It did not take long before small cells were created to squeeze themselves into tiny crevices and make their way to the engines.
Once there, they created a hole into the inner hull. With the cells in place, the Bioships created a thick resin to cover the holes and allowed the cells to move deeper into the ship, each time creating a few cell sized holes easily covered with resin.
It took hours for the Blacklight Individual to fully form from each individual cell. As the mound of biomass grew, more sensory organs were created, allowing Blacklight to observe their surroundings.
They seemed to be in a large chamber, one filled with pods, all of which were empty. Slowly the Evolved took shape, becoming whole as he did, growing slowly but steadily as cell after cell piled together.
Then the fully formed Evolve began to shift its form, suppress its heat output, and try and hide from any scanner the inside of the ship may have. Now all he had to do is sneak around and open the door.
The Evolved, known as James Vega, began his mission.
Saleon adjusted his helmet as he watched the small frigate moved towards the docks. Nel hissed as the ship began its docking procedures. Saleon moved to the many crates he had around him, counting them a few times as the docks opened and a squad of Asari, Salarians, and a few Krogan came in. They walked carefully over to Saleon. This was Eclipse. Unlike the Blood Pack, they were much more organized, controlling most of the smuggling on Omega. They were also the only reason Saleon was able to get what he needed and the reason he was currently on this station rather than in a cell.
The leader of the group, an Asari, looked at the crates around Saleon before crossing her arms.
"This it?"
Saleon ignored the Asari for a moment as he finished counting. He nodded to himself before looking to her.
"It is. Take your organs. Do you have my subjects?"
Black Market organ trade was hardly anything new to Saleon, he still had connections with many groups who were willing to go very far to get their hands on what Saleon provided, which was a good thing considering Saleon now found himself a wanted man. Eclipse did not appreciate slavers, but Saleon was able to convince them, for a price, to get what he needed.
Two Krogan came out with about a dozen Salarians of various ages connected to chains. Saleon nodded. New subjects provided were within the boundaries and ages of what Saleon requires, none too old and none deformed or missing any limbs. Saleon pointed over to the back rooms.
"Just put them in the cells."
The Krogan sneered but otherwise took the slaves to their new home. Saleon looked to the only high profile Salarian of the group. Saleon noted he was standing close to the Asari, mated perhaps. Saleon hoped it was true, he thought it cute considering the drastically different life spans of Asari and Salarians.
"What of what else I requested?"
"We have them. Twenty Salarian eggs, half unfertilized," said the Salarian as he looked over to Nel.
"And what of what we were promised in exchange?" asked the Asari.
Saleon activated his Omni tool and watched as a door in the far corner of the room slid open. Three very large varren walked out, each one wearing a muzzle and a collar.
"As promised, your loyal war beasts. Un-augmented of course. If you want them to be anything like Nel here…," said Saleon as he petted the cyborg varren at his side. "...Then you are going to have to augment them yourself. "
Saleon watched as a small group walked over to the small pack of varren and hook chains round their necks. Saleon sneered. They looked like Nel, minus any cybernetic components or armor. Watching them be treated like base beasts stirred feelings of disgust within him. Nel moved closer and nuzzled his masters leg. Saleon patted his one and only companion and friend on the head.
None of the group seemed to notice this as they took the organs and varren. The Asari, Saleon figured he ought to learn her name, looked to Saleon.
"We'll be back in a week."
"Looking forward to it... Whoever you are."
She glared at Saleon.
"I have shot people for less than that. I'm going to assume you are too stupid to know any better so I'll only say this once."
She pointed to herself.
"Jona Sederis, Founder of Eclipse." said the Asari before she pointed at the group carrying the crates.
"Peons," she said. Saleon actually blinked at that one. None of the group however seemed to care.
Jona then pointed to the Salarian.
"Sayn, second in command. Remember them, as next time I won't be so forgiving," said Jona as she looked at Saleon through narrowed eyes.
"Understood", said Saleon blankly.
He really did not care either way. His only concern was whether or not Eclipse provided him with what he needed.
Jona nodded and lifted her index finger.
"One week," she said as she turned to Sayn. "Lets get the fuck out of here."
Saleon watched them leave, taking the full crates and varren with them.
One of the Krogan looked to Saleon with more hate than Saleon had ever seen, not counting his test subjects of course.
"I suggest you watch what you say around Jona. Piss her off enough and you die. I hope I get to put the knife in your back," said the Krogan with a smile.
"Thank you for the warning, peon," said Saleon with a smile of his own.
The Krogan growled before Sayn looked over to him.
"Let's go, Krogan."
The Krogan growled but otherwise moved to leave the room. Saleon looked to the empty crates they had left behind and a list of what they would need in a week. Saleon looked to Nel who was sniffing the case where the Salarian eggs were contained.
"Shall we get back to work Nel?" asked Saleon with a smile.
The varren barked out an affirmative.
Saleon watched as the subjects moved around their straps and bonds as they tried to observe their new surroundings. Saleon looked to the male Salarian who was tied and bound to a table, a collection of medical tools and various serums and syringes of strange fluids assorted nearby.
His eyes fluttered as he attempted to move his head, only to find it immobile.
"Where am I?"
Saleon didn't answer, nor did he care.
This subject would know only silence, for within these sound proofed walls here, it was always quiet. No sound but their own breathing, their own pleading, their own screams. These were but subjects. No one would remember them, the days would move on without them, and no one would ever care. They were forgotten. At least here they could provide some use.
Saleon moved to his tools and positioned a series of metal arms that would hold the subject's eyes open. Unable to blink or move, the Salarian started to panic, trying all he could to escape his bonds. Saleon watched for but a moment with a bored expression before he grabbed a syringe.
He moved the needle over the subjects left eye, and with surgical precision began to lower it as the subject started to scream in terror.
As far as Saleon was concerned, he could scream as loud as he want. No one would hear them. Saleon himself was beyond desensitized to the screams. At this point, they were but an annoyance, one he could handily endure. He would toil for the rest of his life if that was required.
He removed the now empty syringe and grabbed the next one.
Saleon wondered why they always screamed. It's not like it could prevent anything from happening in a place like this. Instinct perhaps, or just false hope. Besides, it was only five injections in total, with the last one being the worst seeing as it had to be injected into the spine.
He'll be glad to be done with it so he could move on to the eggs. At least they would remain quiet.
James Vega slithered across the walls as a transparent membrane of cells, with minor sensory organs to detect the scant few lives that skittered round this ship. Huskified Collectors were moving around, but only a few, the bulk of them kept in stasis. These were only the workers, the ones who tended to the others within this ship.
Seeker swarms larger than Blacklight had ever witnessed, millions or even billions of them, buzzed around the ship in seemingly chaotic patterns.
James slowly crept across the walls, contouring to its vaguely organic shapes. Stone and metal weaved together in this nightmare of a ship. It was almost as alien as the Reapers themselves. Almost.
How the Collectors managed to build this was beyond Vega. The hive, the stone, and the metal of the ship were seamlessly blended together, on a level no machine could match. This was fabrication and engineering on a level Blacklight had never seen, and the Many agreed with him. This seamless blend should have been impossible, and yet here it was.
Definitely Reaper tech.
He slithered down the halls, guided by the Many who spoke with the Geth to bring Vega to an area they hoped was used for Cargo. It was a vast hollow tunnel.
When he arrived, he found billions of pods lining the walls in rows upon rows. All empty. Enough pods to hold a whole planet's population with ease. To be processed into a New Reaper.
To make an industry of suffering. The sheer horror of it quelled Blacklight's thoughts for a fraction of a second, but they continued their work.
(Bonus Scene)
Aria's Reaction
Aria sat calmly in her seat, looking at her surroundings. Only a few days ago this place was a mess as her Biotic powers destroyed much of the area around her. Now it was pristine, new.
She was amazed the Turian Guard didn't shoot her, though perhaps it was out of fear. Even if it was that, Aria wouldn't see it as true fear. Until Blacklight showed her the truth, she had never really known fear. She could remember every detail as if it had only just happened.
Aria all but screamed.
She watched as a species she had never seen screamed in terror as they heard the call of the grave, before they were processed into a living, feeling paste.
She felt the memories of the Inusannon, screaming, wondering why those they could still see ignored them and their not screams. No one hears them.
She felt the feeling of being pumped through tubes and pipes, she felt the feeling of being sifted and added to others who could only feel panic and terror. In this state worse than death, she could hear the weeping. They were not sleeping, they were not dreaming, they were living in a state of awareness in a form truly alien. There were no nerves to feel, no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no mouth to scream. Only thoughts, most of which were not their own.
So easy to get lost, to become trapped. To confuse the thoughts of others for your own. Memories blend. Memories fade. Aria could find no way to accurately describe it, it was as if no one knows you, not even yourself. You were replaced with something forgotten. How could so many minds be joined like this, and yet you be so completely and utterly alone? Isolated yet together at the same. DAMN. TIME!
'We do not know how it works. It is a mindset alien even to us. Take care Aria. This is but a vision, this is not happening to you. We will shield you from the worst of it.'
Time moves slowly.
The eldritch siren drowned out all other sound.
Then it spoke. Harbinger, who told her of her purpose. A purpose that Aria would probably have accepted if this torture had happened to her. It was only the calming memories gifted by Blacklight itself that kept her from truly losing herself.
'Do not become lost, this is not you. You are an individual, you are unique. You are not just one part of a unit. We are here Aria, we will remind you of who you are.'
It helped, but only a bit. She saw thousands of them, each looking like Harbinger, each looking at her expectantly... No not her, this wasn't her, this was some long dead alien race, only an undead awareness remained.
'They are in eternal, incomparable pain. All of them. Just as much a victim of the infinite cycles as the ones they harvest. They are just too blind by transcendent pain to see it.'
She felt it, knew it to be true.
How could such a thing be stopped, how could it be defeated? A being, a race of primordial machines, with such supreme conviction that nothing could disprove their goals that Aria KNEW to be false. All because they needed it to be true. Needed it more than Aria herself needed air or water. Everything else was secondary.
It was beyond Aria's grasp to fathom the otherworldly nature of this mindset.
How does a mind like this come into being, how does it harvest others to fall to this abstract horror?
Aria had no words for it. It was not insanity, no, this transcended insanity, broke past her understanding of what insanity even was to become something other. Something utterly incomprehensible. Suffering because they believe they must. How... Why... What could force them to endure such a thing?
'That is an answer for another day Aria. Let us end this vision.'
She shook her head of the memories. Aria couldn't hear the word Reaper without horrid visions entering her mind. She suspected that even if she just knew of them, she wouldn't feel as strongly about them, but to see, to feel, how they think? She wasn't so prideful as to deny her fear, but she wouldn't let anyone know.
Aria leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. Soft vibrations from the song only a room over calmed her somewhat, but hardly enough to matter. She sighed.
She still remembered the last thing Shepard said before she left.
"You okay?"
Aria said nothing. Only looked around the room for what seemed like the first time in forever. It was torn apart, furniture flung around in a display of biotic might. Aria's Turian Guard was off in the corner, trying his best to regain his composure.
"What... was that?"
"Reapers. The Giant Robot Squid Gods."
Aria said nothing. She couldn't think of anything else to say.
"You see why we are taking this so seriously."
Aria nodded, but said nothing else. Her mind was filled with thoughts and memories not fully her own. She thought on it all, but couldn't think of any logical reaction to what she had just seen.
She was drawn from her thoughts as Shepard stated to sing to herself.
"It's tearing up my heart when I'm with you, but when we are apart I feel it too...," she sung lightly before humming to herself.
Aria narrowed her eyes.
"...What are you doing?"
"Huh, oh sorry. Someone was remembering an old song, and it got stuck in my head. Apparently someone was feeling nostalgic. So, now that you know about the Reapers…," Shepard trailed off.
"I don't know."
"You know, we could use your help somewhere down the line."
Aria scoffed.
"Really. What can I do? Fucking glare at them to death?"
"You know, you probably could, but we were thinking something a little different. What if Omega became something more?"
"Explain."
"You are very demanding today. Fine, Omega is in a unique position being what it is. You're free of Citadel law, for the most part. We're trying to unite the galaxy completely. Having you and your resources on our side would be a boon."
Aria thought over everything. Put like that, how could she disagree? So here she was, ramping up Eezo mining and refining to the highest level since she had gained control of Omega. She sighed as she stared up at the ceiling.
"Fucking Giant Robot Squid Gods."