First Entry

[just_wrex]

(OOM: A change of scenery can be nice. Of course, it can also lead to a... Deeper change of scenery.)

The door opens and a massive bipedal... Being walks into Milliways, stopping short as the door slams shut behind him. Okay, this is -not- the garage deck of the Normandy. Faster than one would expect from a being that must weigh well over a ton in

Comments

[pattersongs]

!

Wrex, there's a startled-looking older salarian at a nearby table, and he's just- somewhat reluctantly- gotten up to see what's going on.

[just_wrex]

Wrex's massive wedge-shaped head pivots towards the movement, the firearm following smoothly.

"You, there. The Salarian. What in the Void is this place? And where?" He still sounds pretty calm. He doesn't need to -sound- threatening.

[pattersongs]

They've met in passing in Mordin's time. Probably not for long enough for Wrex to remember his name. Best not to take chances.

"Milliways," Mordin says as carefully as he can. You don't fuss around with a krogan with a gun like that. "Patrons call it 'the bar at the end of the universe'. Can't vouch for truth of that but will say multiple realities, multiple dimensions come together here. Located on large asteroid in unknown sector of space."

[just_wrex]

Wrex's upper lip curls, revealing large blunt teeth in what could be a silent snarl.

"Are you kidding me? A place like that existed, there would be half a dozen research teams and twice as many mercenary groups hovering around it." And he would have heard of it, sooner or later.

[pattersongs]

"Agreed. Priceless research opportunity, not to mention mercantile and strategic opportunities," Mordin says. "However, access to local dimensional space not always consistent. Cross-dimensional portals prone to appearance, disappearance, rearrangement. Arrival here one day no guarantee of arrival here the next."

[just_wrex]

There is a long moment of silence. As usual with his species, the Salarian talks much more than would be necessary to say what he means. "You mean the door doesn't always work right?" He points one huge thumb back towards the door at his back. The gun, though stays firmly pointed in Mordin's direction, and he seems very capable of firing it one-handed.

[pattersongs]

"Oversimplification. But yes," says Mordin.

[just_wrex]

It's a good reason, but Wrex knows the Salarians. Even with unreliable access, they would be all over this place like Pyjaks on a pile of Varren meat gone bad.

"Good excuse, but not good enough." Both hands are on the shotgun once again, Wrex's eyes slightly narrowed, his head cocked to one side to bring one eye in line with the sights.

[pattersongs]

Oh, lovely. This is exactly how Mordin wanted to spend his evening when he went out for a stroll around the Normandy's engineering deck.

"As you like. Suggest you look around. Consider patrons, architecture, general structure and feel of place. If you have better explanation, would love to hear it."

[just_wrex]

"I didn't say the place is not what you said, Salarian. I just don't believe the reason you gave is good enough for your people not to be swarming around it."

He is, though, slightly less tense. Most people seem to be reacting like this was a pretty normal happening. Which makes this place seem like Wrex's kind of bar... Or something much more weird.

[pattersongs]

"No other salarians come here," says Mordin. "To my knowledge, am only salarian ever to set foot here. No sign of intelligence services, information gatherers, anything else of the sort. Would've known it on sight."

[just_wrex]

Typically Salarian, bragging about his skills without even realizing. Wrex is pretty sure he would recognize something like that quite quickly too. You learn to see the signs after a few centuries. for example, the way this salarian managed to keep an obstacle suitable for quick cover in the line of fire -all the time- was quite telling.

"But you don't have a reason why that's so."

[pattersongs]

"Currently out of contact with Salarian Union," says Mordin. "Working on other projects. Would prefer to relay complete information when available. Besides, don't remember any reports of portals opening anywhere other than human-controlled vessels."

And given the salarian reputation for memory, that's saying something.

[just_wrex]

"So there -is- someone gathering information, after all." That was a joke. For Wrex, at least. The shotgun is half-lowered, still close enough to firing position to be brought up instantly.

[pattersongs]

"Old habits difficult to break." Mordin shrugs. "Rather have too much information and not use it than not enough and need it."

[just_wrex]

"I can agree with that." That honesty may well have saved Mordin from a shotgun blast. Wrex lowers the shotgun and nods. "Let's say that I believe you. How does this place work, then?"