Mass Effect: Titan

Chapter Twelve: Gehenna

"The only true wisdom, is in knowing you know nothing." - Socrates

Martin exited Afterlife, following the almost panicking Athria. They cleared the lines of people waiting to get in and headed toward the skycabs. Athria finally stopped walking and turned to Martin, finally catching up to her. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She angrily asked. "Do you not realize who that was? Walking in there acting the way you did, were you trying to get us killed?" Athria's displeasure surrounding the situation amused him. It reminded him of Velpia's freak out- the last time they had to speak to her.

"Power respects power. Something you should learn when dealing with people like that. As long as you don't overdo it." Martin said confidently. Athria narrowed her eyes at Martin, her anger still simmering. "Power respects power? Is that what you think you were doing in there? We could have been executed on the spot!"

Martin shrugged nonchalantly. "Aria's a pragmatist. She won't kill us unless there's something to gain from it. We gave her a reason to keep us alive." Athria clenched her fists, trying to keep her composure. "You were gambling with our lives. A slight misstep, a wrong word, and we would be dead. You might be used to this kind of life, but I'm not." Martin stopped and turned to face her fully, his expression serious now. "Yeah, it was risky, but it was the only way to deal with her. Showing fear or weakness would have made us targets. She wouldn't have believed us; we played her game."

Athria threw her hands into the air in exasperation and turned away from him, walking towards the depot. Martin followed at a distance. He couldn't understand her need to question everything he'd done. He had gotten results; they had the Quarian, had a way off the station, and stayed their execution. What more could she want?

Athria quickly jumped into a cab and waited for Martin as he climbed in, and the car took off back to pick up their things before heading off to the Docks. They sat silently for a little while, watching what makes for scenery on the station pass by. It was a while before Athria broke the silence. "I have to ask, what makes you so sure that you know what you are doing?" She asked while staring out the windshield.

"What do you mean?" Martin was confused; the question seemed genuine. She seemed to have lost her usual bitchy tone. "You don't seem to think; you just act, you don't hesitate, and yet it somehow works out for you."

Martin leaned back in his seat, getting slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. He had never really considered it before; he just reacted. "Instinct, mostly. In places like this, hesitation can get you killed. You have to make decisions fast and stick to them. Overthinking it too long tends to kill people."

Athria sighed, still staring out the windshield. "But how do you know your instincts are right? How do you know you're not leading us into a trap or making things worse?" Martin turned to Athria; the neon lights flashing across her face illuminated her contours. "I don't. Usually don't anyways. It's almost like letting fate decide what happens. Sometimes you have to; otherwise, things will just get worse." Athria looked at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and something else. "So, you just... trust fate? That's your plan?" Martin smirked slightly. "I trust my experience, my instincts, and a dash of luck. Anything beyond that I don't trust further than I can throw it." She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

"Yep, been told that before."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

An hour later, the car landed just outside the transfer area, and the two headed through the crowds. Athria started to see the ship that Martin was talking about. She stood in front of the brown boxy mess of a ship. "This is your Idea of a ship?" she complained to Martin, standing beside her. "I didn't say it was a good ship; I just said "A" ship." His sarcasm caught her nerves again, but Athria decided to bite her tongue. They walked up the loading ramp and closed it behind them before entering the ship. "Hello!" Martin shouted into the hall. "Huh, no one must be home," he said playfully.

Athria rolled her eyes. "Great. That's just what we need—a ghost ship." The two began walking to the bridge, watching around them. Martin rounded the corner of the bridge and walked in; he immediately noticed a head, or rather the dark hair of the pilot he had saved almost a week ago. He stepped toward her with Athria in tow.