Ascension

legend than a real species.

By most accounts they had first appeared on the galactic scene roughly five hundred years ago, allegedly emerging from an uncharted region of space somewhere beyond the otherwise inaccessible Omega-4 relay. And while, if the stories were true, they had been around for five centuries, almost nothing was known about the enigmatic species or their mysterious homeworld. Isolationist to the extreme, the Collectors were rarely seen anywhere but Omega and a few of the nearby inhabited worlds. Even then, decades could pass with no reported sightings at the station, only to give way to a few years marked by several dozen sporadic visits from envoys looking to barter and trade with other species.

On those rare occasions when Collectors did venture into the Terminus Systems, they reportedly made it clear that similar visits by other species into their territory would not be tolerated. Despite this, countless vessels had dared to attempt the passage through the Omega-4 relay over the centuries in search of their home planet. None of them had ever returned. The staggering number of ships, expeditions, and exploratory fleets that had disappeared without explanation into the Omega-4 relay had led to wild speculation about what lay hidden beyond the portal. Some believed it opened into a black hole or the heart of a sun, though this didn't explain how the Collectors could use the relay themselves. Others claimed it led to the futuristic equivalent of paradise: those who passed through were now living lives of decadent luxury on an idyllic planet, with no desire to return to the violent struggles of the lawless Terminus Systems. The most widely accepted explanation was that the Collectors had some manner of defensive technology, unique and highly advanced, that utterly destroyed any foreign vessel passing through the relay.

But Pel wasn't sure he believed any of the stories.

'I thought the Collectors were just a myth.'

'A common misperception, particularly in Council Space. However, I can assure you from personal experience that they are very real.'

'What kind of deal did you make with them?' Pel asked, his curiosity piqued.

'They wanted two dozen 'pure' quarians: men and women who had spent their entire lives on the fleet, uncontaminated by visits to other worlds.'

'I thought every quarian had to leave the fleet during their Pilgrimage,' Pel remarked, referring to the quarian right of passage into adulthood.

'Not all quarians make the Pilgrimage,' Golo explained. 'Exceptions are made for those too sick or infirm to survive outside the colony. And in rare cases an individual with a valuable skill or talent can receive a dispensation from the Admiralty.

'I knew from the start I'd probably get caught,' he added, almost regretful, 'but the terms of their offer were too good to pass up.'

Pel nodded: this fit with the stories he'd heard. When the Collectors came to barter, they typically sought to exchange merchandise or technology for living beings. They were, however, far more than simple slavers. The tales of their requests were always unusual or bizarre: two dozen left-handed salarians; sixteen sets of batarian twins; a krogan born of parents from feuding clans. In return, the Collectors would offer incredible technology or knowledge, such as a ship with a new mass drive configuration that increased engine efficiency, or a cache of advanced targeting VI mods to radically improve weapon accuracy. Eventually this technology would be adapted by galactic society as a whole, but for several years it would provide a significant edge for anyone smart enough to take the deal. Or so the tales told.

In the absence of any true name for the species, their willingness to pay so extravagantly to have their odd but highly specific requests satisfied had earned them the generic title of Collectors. Similar to the conjecture spawned by the mystery of what lay beyond the Omega-4 relay, numerous theories had evolved attempting to explain the motivation behind their illogical demands. Some believed there was a religious significance to the requests, others saw it as evidence of deviant sexual predilections or gruesome culinary appetites.

If the Collectors actually did exist, as Golo claimed, then Pel tended to support the most generally accepted belief that they were conducting genetic experiments on other species, though he couldn't even begin to guess at their exact nature or purpose. Certainly it was enough to make any reasonable person suspicious.

'If the Collectors are real, why hasn't more been done to try and stop their activities?' he wondered aloud.

'As long as you can profit from the deal, who cares?' Golo replied, his rhetorical question encapsulating the general attitude of the entire Terminus Systems in a single breath. 'They show up and offer something worth a few million credits, and all you have to do is give them a couple dozen prisoners in exchange. They're no worse than the slavers, but they pay a lot better.'

Slavery was illegal in Council Space, but here in the Terminus Systems it was an accepted — even a common — practice. However, it wasn't the morality of what the Collectors were doing that concerned Pel.

'Isn't anyone worried about what they're doing behind that relay? They could be making powerful new genetic weapons. What if they're studying species to learn our weaknesses and vulnerabilities so they can invade?'

Golo laughed, the sound reverberating off his mask with a distant, hollow timbre.

'I have no doubt they are up to something unpleasant,' he admitted. 'But they've been doing this for five hundred years. If they were planning an invasion, it would have happened by now.'

'But aren't you even curious?'

'The curious try to go through the Omega-4 relay,' he reminded his human companion. 'And they don't come back. The rest of us here on Omega are more worried about getting killed by our neighbor than what's happening on the far side of the galaxy. You need to stay focused to survive out here.'*

Good advice, Pel thought. The Collectors were definitely intriguing, and he wouldn't be surprised to learn that the Illusive Man already had agents looking into them somewhere. But that wasn't his mission.

'You said you could lead me to people who can give me those transmission codes.'

Golo nodded eagerly, glad the subject had turned back to their current business.

'I can set up a meeting with a crew from one of the scout ships from the Migrant Fleet,' he promised. 'Just make sure you take one of them alive.'

Five

The flight attendant greeted him with a cheerful smile, her voice warm and inviting. 'Welcome aboard, Mr. Grayson. My name is Ellin.'

He didn't recognize her, but she could have been a recent hire; he didn't use the corporate shuttle very often. Ellin had striking green eyes — probably tinted— and long, lustrous golden hair — probably dyed. She looked to be in her early twenties, though of course there was no guarantee she was anywhere close to that young.

'Pleased to meet you, Ellin,' he replied with a nod. He realized he was smiling at her with a goofy grin. Always was a sucker for blondes.

'We won't be leaving for a few minutes yet,' she informed him, reaching out to take the briefcase from his hand, 'but your room is ready. Please follow me and we can get you settled while the pilot makes his final preflight checks.'

He studied her figure appreciatively from behind as she led him down the narrow corridor toward the private VIP chamber in the aft of the vessel.

'I hope everything is to your liking,' she commented on reaching their destination, stepping forward and holding the door open so he could enter.

The room bore almost no resemblance to the simple, often crowded bunks found on military vessels or the common sleeping rooms of long-distance mass-transit shuttles. Equipped with a luxurious bed, state-of-the-art vid screen, private shower and hot tub, full wet bar, and just about every other conceivable amenity, it compared