John wasn't going to be seeing the Earth again for a long time, even if all went well. He re-checked his bag to make sure he had everything he wanted. The Organization had arranged for someone to retrieve their belongings from the hotel in Barcelona. They had also arranged for a shuttle to take them all to an orbital shipyard that Hackett had recommended.

He picked up his bag and joined the rest of them in the foyer. It looked like everyone was traveling light. Even Persephone had only one bag, and she had traded in her usual flowing dress for a form-fitting black-and-white jumpsuit. He did his best to not stare at her. The jumpsuit was very form-fitting and Persephone was in excellent shape. Mrs. Carmichael and Admiral Hackett were standing next to each other near the door. John amused himself by thinking of them as an old married couple sending their children off into the cruel world.

"Well, my dears," said Mrs. Carmichael, "I wish you all the best."

John gave her a little bow. "Thanks. And I'm sorry about doubting you earlier, ma'am."

She waved it off with a smile. "Exercising your judgement is the main reason I wanted you on this job."

"And your current job is simple," added Hackett. "Find Okuda and make sure that his information does not reach the public. Exactly how you achieve that, I leave up to you."

Just outside the door floated another scarab-shaped vehicle which was larger and more angular than Camicia's aircar. Persephone slid the side of the shuttle open and they all began to enter. John brought up the rear, and he paused before getting in. It hit him like a thunderbolt that he was about to go into space.

He was going into space.

"You got cold feet, sugar?" yelled Mackie from inside. "Don't worry, the hamsters told me they can pedal fast enough to get us up there."

John laughed and got in.

There was little to no acceleration that he could feel as the shuttle rose from the earth. It wasn't even as much as a jet airliner during takeoff. But the ground dropped rapidly away as John pressed his nose to one of the windows. The sky overhead rapidly became dark blue, then black. The horizon became a silver crescent and he could see the thin hazy line of the atmosphere. Eventually the arc of the horizon turned into a circle, and then he could see the entire Earth. It hung like a fragile blue-and-white ornament in front of him. He blinked away a couple of tears. Helen would have loved to photograph this.

John leaned back and saw that Persephone was watching him with an amused look on her face. He winked at her. "I just wanted to make sure the world was actually round, like they told us back in ye olden times."

"Of course," she replied, and gave him a wink back. He was glad to see that she was getting over her anger about her 'promotion'.

John put his face back to the window, hoping to see more and not caring one bit about looking cool. He was in space, damn it all.

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Flying commercial simply wasn't going to cut it. They might need to go places where starliners didn't go, or get there faster than standard flights could manage. Not to mention they might need to get out of some places in a big, big hurry. So Wick's team obviously had to have a ship of their own. But that was where the agreement ended.

"I still say a freighter gives us the best cover story," said Persephone. "Nobody looks twice at them." She ducked under a cable stretched across an alley that led to the shipyard's office.

"You are oh so wrong wrongity wrong," replied Camicia, as she put out a hand and casually vaulted over the same cable. "Everybody looks at them. Pirates think you're carrying something juicy. Customs agents think you're smuggling contraband and give you a full spirits-be-damned cavity search at any opportunity. And a freighter with no cargo looks all sorts of suspicious."

Persephone looked back at Camicia and gave her a cheeky grin. "Admit it, you just don't want to pilot something slow and plodding."

"Sister, they could paste wings on a brick and I could fly circles around anybody you care to name."

John dodged under the cable as he tried to keep up. It was odd that Persephone, who was the shortest of their trio, was somehow the fastest. Maybe it was another aspect of her 'biotic' powers. He'd read a little about biotics, enough to know that if one's opponent had them it was a real pain in the ass to deal with. He would have to be careful, especially around any asari.

"Why not exploration as a cover?" asked Camicia. "I'm thinking we could pose as a survey ship looking for resources. There are a couple of corporations within our, er, employers whom we could use for cover."

"Maybe," said Persephone. "But we'd need to have specialized payloads to look legitimate, things like survey probes and scanners. It would be expensive. Not to mention we'll have to pass as scientists and geologists."

John jogged a little to catch up. "I can do that. I've had to act different parts during previous, um, employment."

Persephone gave him a smirk. "I'll bet. But Mackie, as capable as he is, probably couldn't make a convincing scientist. And Prasad is smart, but can he act?"

Camicia shook her head. "Yeah, you're right. And we're most likely going to be hanging around civilized areas, not off in the wilds. Somebody might notice a survey ship that doesn't do any surveying."

John wanted to throw up his hands. He knew the value of keeping a low profile, but a part of him wished they could just buy a damn ship and get going. Actually...that gave him an idea.

"What about a tourist?" he asked.

The two aliens stopped and looked at him quizzically. "A what?" asked Camicia.

"A tourist. You know, somebody independently wealthy who decided that they wanted to go and buy a ship, tour the galaxy, see the sights?"

"See the sights?" Persephone looked almost like she was going to laugh, but then she sat back on her heels and looked thoughtful. "Hmmm, yes. Somebody who buys a small ship and has a crew to tend to him. A rich idiot running around looking at things doesn't have to follow any particular trade routes or look like they're working. It does have possibilities."

"I like it," said Camicia. "Who's gonna play the hypothetical rich guy, then?"

The two of them looked at John Wick.

He held up his hands. "Ohhh no. Nonono, I'm more the bodyguard type. I work better in the background, anyway. Nathan should be our hypothetical zillionaire." He gestured at Persephone. "Or you, for that matter."

"Why not me?" asked Camicia.

John smiled at her. "Because you're our brave and ultra-capable pilot, who can even fly a brick with wings stuck to it."

"Oh, right."

"And it can't be me," said Persephone. "Asari don't do tourism, at least not like that. We tend to be more nomadic and roaming during our Maiden years. Buying a ship for this purpose is more of a human thing."

"Okay, so that'll be Nathan then." John hoped this conversation would end soon.

"No." A nefarious gleam came into Persephone's eyes. "It'll be easier to set up a fake identity for you. I also think we need somebody more...dashing. Somebody who looks really good in a suit. Nathan is a dear, but he won't cut anywhere near as impressive a figure as you will."

Camicia now got a matching fire in her eyes. "Yesss. I like your thinking, sister. A lonely millionaire playboy, roaming the starways in search of adventure and maybe, dare I say it, love."

John ground his teeth. "This is not a goddamn soap opera!"

They looked at him blankly.

"Or vid, or whatever the hell you call it. I can't..." He trailed off, looking at their hopeful faces. "Oh fine, I'll be the goddamn playboy."

Watching an asari and a turian go 'squeee' at the same time was an...interesting sight.

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"Earth-clan! It is an honor to provide you with service today!" The tubby volus spread his arms as wide as he could. "I have the finest used vessels...hissshk...in human space. Ask anybody, they will tell you to come and see Nalack Kin!" Nalack's yellow goggles gleamed in the harsh overhead lighting. It was not a fancy-looking office; this particular volus clearly valued functionality over appearance. John found that reassuring.

"Hello, Mr. Kin. I'm Edward Hadlock." John was sure there were a lot of pissed-off people in Barcelona looking for a certain 'Mr. Winston', so he figured it was a good time to switch identities. A couple of messages to Mrs. Carmichael resulted in a few additions in the public record for one 'Mr. Hadlock'. He was now listed as the founder of a small arms manufacturer which had been sold for a significant sum to a larger conglomerate, explaining his current bank account.

"A pleasure to meet you. Now, what sort of...hissshk...craft are you looking for?"

"Something that has space for five to ten people. Ideally something a little nicer than the norm. I do like my creature comforts, right, Ms. Mellus?"

The turian gave John a sidelong glance. "Of course, sir. Shall I describe our specific requirements?"

John made a vague waving gesture. "Yes, yes, get on with it. It's all so boring, I just want to go look at some ships." If the two women wanted him to play the part of Rich Idiot With No Day Job, he was damn well going to play the part. He heard Persephone give a faint snort of laughter from behind him, but Camica looked unamused.

Camicia clasped her talons behind her back. "Riiight. We'll need FTL capability of course, plus the standard jump relay interface systems. Thruster output needs to be at least fifty thousand kilonewtons. And it will have to have a life support and recycling system which can handle both dextro and levo metabolisms."

The volus hummed as he tapped the requirements into a datapad. "Hmmm, yes. You'd like a yacht with speed to spare. I have...hissshk...several ships that should fit your needs. Will you be requiring any armaments?"

John almost asked We can get guns on it? like an idiot. He then realized that of course they could. After all, space was dangerous and very big. The various navies couldn't be everywhere.

"Let's see what you have, then we can discuss options," replied Camicia.

Nalack nodded happily and led them out of the office and into a long corridor which had one side completely transparent. The transparency looked out onto Nalack's shipyard, and John had to fight the urge to again press his nose to the glass. There were so many ships out there! It was a profusion of shapes which made his head swim. But he followed his companions' lead and affected a bored air.

The volus sent a few commands using his omni-tool. Several powerful searchlights stabbed out from somewhere above them and highlighted several of the ships. They all looked to John's eyes like various species of beetle or fish.

"These three should fit your needs," said Nalack. "With minimum modifications, of course. We do offer those services here, by the way. That gray one is a human-built craft, originally used as a transport for corporation VIPs. hissshk. The white one is a survey ship. It would be a little more utilitarian than the first, but still very comfortable and capable. This third one..."

"What is that?" exclaimed Camicia. She pointed one taloned finger towards the window.

Nalack looked a little confused. "Er, the survey ship?"

"No, the one next to it." John could just make out the shadowed form of what she was pointing at. It was an angular winged shape, but he couldn't see much more.

"Ah, that ship...*hissshk*...here, I'll give you a closer look." The volus touched a few more controls, and there followed a distant whine of mass effect fields. The ships gently jostled and moved apart, and the shape that Camicia had pointed out came closer to the window. Another light then shone on it, and John could finally see the craft in detail.

The ship looked like an angry mechanical sparrow. It was about thirty-five meters in length and had a chisel-like prow which added to its aggressive appearance. It sported wide, sweeping wings from its middle and a pair of pods at its rear that John supposed were its engines. It was painted mostly white and had red-and-black markings on the wings.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"That's a turian corvette!" The normally relaxed pilot looked like she was going to jump out of her armored skin in excitement. "What's it doing this close to Earth?"

Nalack made a little shrugging motion as he checked his datapad. "That's the...hissshk...TSV Calvenia. Sold as military surplus. The turian military is upgrading, part of that whole...hissshk...human-turian design collaboration that resulted in the SV-1 Normandy. They're expanding that program out into different ship classes, starting with smaller ships like the corvettes. There's a lot of these older turian ships on the market, they're starting to show up everywhere."

John could tell that Camicia was aching to get a closer look, but he had to play the part of somebody looking for a yacht. "It's certainly...martial looking, which I like." He winked at Nalack. "I made my money in guns, after all. But I'm guessing it's probably not that comfortable."

"Yes, I must admit it is a little...hissshk...plain inside. But it's in very good condition, I assure you."

Camica was damn near vibrating by now, and John finally took pity on her. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to have a look inside," he drawled. "After all, we can always get the interior refitted." The turian gripped his shoulder, and for one terrifying moment John thought the turian was going to kiss him. Camicia was a lovely person, but she also had a mouth like a cigar cutter.

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The Calvenia had its main airlock located in a raised section on top of her hull, just forward of midships. They boarded through a docking tube, which made John feel a little like a hamster. Nalack had powered up the ship's gravity generators and turned on the ship's interior lighting. Below the airlock sat a larger room that looked to be set up as a commons and/or mess area. Forward of that sat six coffin-like pods set in racks, and forward of those was the cockpit. The furniture and the doors were just a little larger than John was used to; this ship had clearly been built to turian scale.

"These pods are the bunks, right?" asked John.

Camicia nodded. Now that she was actually on board, she was back to being her usual cool and collected self. "The standard crew size is ten to twelve for this type of ship. They use a hot-bunking system."

John walked forward and peered into one of the sleeper pods. He would fit in it with room to spare. He wouldn't mind using one, but it didn't really fit the image of the nouveau riche tourist they were aiming for. He went forward and looked into the cockpit as Camicia loomed over his head. It was larger than he expected, with two stations at the front and one more on each side of the door.

"Let me guess," he said. "Pilot and copilot in the front?"

"Commander and first officer are the proper terms," replied Camicia. "To the right is the weapons officer station, and the left station is propulsion and engineering."

"Hmm. Are we going to need an engineer as well?"

"Probably not. These ships are automated and have limited self-repair capability. If we were heading into ship-to-ship combat, then for sure we'd need to have somebody who can fix things on the fly. Plus we would want more crew to help with damage control. But for right now, the five of us should be able to handle it."

"That's good to know. I'd rather not hire anybody. Hackett won't want any chance of somebody else finding out about our mission."

"I hear you. Hmmmm...let me check something." Camicia squeezed past him and called up the terminal on the weapons officer's station. She scanned through a couple of readouts and made a disappointed clicking noise with her mandibles. "Unfortunate. The mass driver coils have been taken out. Probably done when it was decommissioned."

"What are the standard weapons on a ship like this?"

Camicia indicated below their feet. "There's an axial-mounted mass driver which runs the entire length of the ship. This particular driver was set up to fire both forward and aft. That's the main gun for the ship. Apart from that, there's usually a couple of disruptor torpedoes..." She tapped a few more controls. "No longer installed, of course. There's usually a couple of laser turrets for point defense, but those are gone as well." She leaned back. "The good news is that the armor and kinetic shields are still in place."

In the meantime, Persephone had been pacing out the length of the sleeper pod racks. "I think we can squeeze a few small cabins in this space. Two or three on each side. It'll be a little tight, but it should fit."

John nodded. "That would make it look more like a proper yacht. Let's check aft."

Behind the mess was a large room which contained the ship's drive core. The translucent sphere of the core was very quiet and dark right now, but John was itching to see what it would look like under full power. There was a catwalk along one side of the room that accessed the rear portion of the ship. Behind the engineering space was a hallway with a large storage room on the starboard side and two smaller rooms on the port side. One room had the 'head' and the life support equipment, and the other was a small medbay.

Below the rear hallway was a smaller auxiliary airlock, which led down into a small two-person shuttle. The shuttle was mounted upside down and clamped to the belly of the Calvenia like a remora fish attached to the underside of a shark.

At the aft end of the ship was a space with a large sloping window. John was a little surprised at that. "I didn't think they'd have an observation area on a ship this small."

Camicia pointed at a chair and terminal in the middle of the space. "This is more intended as an alternate weapons officer position. Just in case you need to shoot anybody coming up behind you."

John pondered their options. "Okay. This ship has promise. I like that it's more armored and faster than the others." He grinned at Camicia. "And you won't be banging your head on the doorways like on a human ship."

"It's not just that, John. I was stationed on a corvette just like this during my service. I know this boat inside and out. The other ships here, I can fly 'em really well." She reached out and caressed a nearby bulkhead. "But this old girl...I can make her dance."

"I just may hold you to that someday. So those are the pluses. But now for the minuses. It's going to take a good chunk of time and money to get this ship refitted."

Camicia looked thoughtful. "Most of the stuff we're thinking of adding is modular, it should just drop right in. The biggest technical item will be revamping the life support and recycler systems, but that's a standard change. I'm guessing about two weeks time to do it all."

"And as far as money, you let me haggle with Kin about that," said Persephone. "I just did a bit of research, and the market is getting absolutely flooded with these corvettes now. Not to mention it'll be harder for him to sell a turian ship this close to the human homeworld. I can get this for a steal, if I promise Kin that he'll be the one doing the refitting." She looked around the space and got that evil gleam in her violet eyes again. "And I think this area would make a good main cabin. Our Mr. Hadlock needs his creature comforts, after all."

"I don't think that's needed," protested John. "We don't have an unlimited budget. I can just use one of the cabins we're putting in up front."

"Oh, no, 'Mr. Hadlock'. We must keep up appearances for the sake of our cover story. Trust me, I'll get it done with the funds we have on hand."

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Mackie had almost got the helmet onto his head when the alarm went off. He felt Camicia's clawed hand patting him on the head. "Aaaand you're dead. Yet again." Her flanged voice sounded more amused each time he failed.

"Dammit, Cammy! Are you making the time shorter?"

Her other hand came into view holding a stopwatch. "Fifteen seconds. That's the requirement in the turian navy for being able to don a pressure suit. It's actually a little bit generous, since the pressure drop during a true emergency is a lot faster than that." The turian looked at Nathan, who hadn't even fastened his suit front. "You are doubly-dead." She then regarded John, who had almost latched his helmet closed. "You, you're not quite dead. But you'll have a good dose of death-pressure damage to both lungs."

She took a breath and looked at the three of them. "Right, let's do it again."

Mackie groused as he stripped the suit off. Nathan was a little slower and clumsier in his movements as he also removed his suit. John didn't say a word as he took off his. The assassin had been in a trance-like state of concentration since they'd started. His robotic expression was actually beginning to freak Mackie out a little. He now realizing that the reason John was so good at killing was that he had practiced really hard at it.

The four of them were squeezed into the rear storage area; it was one of the few areas on the ship that wasn't currently occupied by Nalack Kin's re-fitters.

Camicia held up a hand. "Okay, now...before we go again, I want you all to focus on smooth movements, okay? Especially you, Mackie. You're trying to be fast and you're jerking too much. Don't take offense, nobody gets this right the first time. That's why we drill like this. Just do it slowly, and the speed will come."

"Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast," muttered John.

"Exactly." Camicia held out her stopwatch. "And...go."

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Persephone looked down at Nalack Kin with a hint of a smile. "Now, Mr. Kin. Exactly how is it that you have turian mass driver components that just happen to match a turian corvette? The Hierarchy wouldn't have sold them."

The volus gave a little cheerful shrug. "You know how it is, Thessia-clan. You buy equipment in lots during an auction, and don't...hissshk...realize what's in them until you open the crates up later. I must have gotten lucky."

She smiled wider. "I see. And now you're doubly lucky, because I'm going to take them off of your hands without digging too deeply into their history." It would be a nice little peace offering to Camicia. Persephone knew the turian would be ecstatic about having their main gun operational again.

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The painting showed a foggy cityscape. A half-seen tower on the left side was balanced by an elegant skyway that arched across to the right side of the picture. The more John looked at it, the more brooding and melancholy the image felt. And this was just a projection on the wall of their new ship's mess. He was sure that the real thing would have more impact.

"It's very nice, Nathan. But what does this have to do with Okuda?"

Nathan regarded them all with a twinkle in his eye. He was now in his element and getting to explain things. "This was painted by Hamirn Jou. He was the son of a salarian diplomat and moved around a lot as a child. He was, tragically, struck blind at the age of ten in a freak accident. This," he waved a hand at the image, "is called 'Memories of Palaven' and was painted two decades after Jou went blind. Painted from memory, in one go, over the course of two years. And I'll just remind you all that two years is a long time to a salarian."

"Amazing," murmured Persephone.

The analyst nodded. "There are only ten known works by Jou in existence. They are all acknowledged as masterpieces of form and emotion. Each one is effectively priceless."

"Lemme guess," said Mackie. "Okuda stole it."

"The theft does have all of his trademarks. Hints of bribery among the guards, a backdoor into the security systems which was planted a week before...it's almost certainly Okuda. He's been stealing art and precious items for a long time, even before he worked with Alliance Intelligence under his 'Rumoi' cover. I've made a study of his career."

"Is this his latest theft?" asked Camicia.

"No. This painting was stolen three years ago during his 'Rumoi' days. It was from the estate of one Octanus Quinian. He's a high-ranking turian who somehow got his hands on an original Jou. The salarians were exerting a huge pressure on him to give it back. After all, it's considered a cultural treasure. But it is also a painting of Palaven, so...Quinian kept it."

John leaned back and crossed his arms. "Why focus on this theft? Three years is a long time. I'm sure the trail's gone cold."

"Ah!" Nathan looked pleased at the question. "Because it appears that after the theft, this painting simply vanished. None of the usual suspects have it in their private collections, and it never showed up on the black market."

"Okuda kept it," said Mackie.

"I believe so," replied Nathan. "Although it does not fit with my mental profile of Okuda. He is usually very committed to keeping his clients happy. But if he was going to keep something, this would be it. 'Memories of Palaven' is considered one of the best of Jou's work. So that gives us two possible approaches. One, if we can somehow track the painting down then we'll find Okuda as well. That's the harder route. The easier route is...well, somewhere out there is a very angry client who paid Okuda half his fee up front and yet never received a painting."

John felt a feral grin on his face. "I see. If we find the client, they'll tell us how to get to Okuda."

"Exactly. I have a few contacts on the Citadel who can help us, so that's where we should start."

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They were taking the ship on a test run around the outside of the shipyard. John was in the copilot...or rather, first officer...seat. He carefully watched Camicia as she handled the ship's controls. There was no way in hell that he would ever be as proficient as she was, but he wanted to at least be able to move the ship around if need be. The turian had pronounced herself satisfied so far with the craft's handling, but then threw him a bit of a curveball towards the end.

"What about her name? Are we keeping it?"

John hadn't thought about it until now. "Calvenia is a good name. I like the sound of it. Besides, humans are superstitious about renaming ships. It supposedly brings bad luck. What's the turian viewpoint?"

Camicia spun the ship on its long axis and gave a satisfied hum. "That's good. They definitely kept the control thrusters clean. Now, as for the turian outlook upon naming...well, as long as we keep the spirit of the ship alive then the name isn't as important. I looked up the history of the Calvenia; she saw her crew through combat at the Citadel during the geth invasion. So if we do give her some sort of silly monkey-boy name, it needs to fit with her turian name."

"I can get behind that. So who or what is Calvenia?"

"She's the main figure from the Calevenata, a turian piece of epic poetry. It's set during our Unification War, right when the Hierarchy finally intervened in that whole mess. Calvenia was a diplomat for the Hierarchy and got herself captured by one of the colony chieftains. She's described in the epic as 'beautiful beyond compare', of course. Her mate is one Cavus Barbacius. He's described as a mighty warrior, of course. Barbacius organizes a giant fleet of ships to go get her back. There's a lot of exciting battles and skirmishes that follow. When he does finally fight his way through to the colony, he finds that Calvenia has overthrown the chieftain and subjugated the colony. Calvenia's rescue fleet was supposedly ten thousand ships strong. It's a ridiculous number, but that's legend for you."

John thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Well, there is a similar figure from a very old piece of human literature. I don't think Calvenia would mind sharing a ship with her. And it's a name that I've always liked."

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"Charon Relay Control, this is the Merchant Vessel Helen Of Troy requesting transit clearance."

"Roger, MV Helen of Troy, you are cleared for transit. Please use the standard approach vector to the relay."

"Will do. Helen out." Camicia touched a few more controls and settled back with a satisfied air. "That's it. Another two minutes and we're out of here."

John leaned forward and looked through the forward windows at the distant sculpted shape of the Charon mass relay. "Wow. That's big. And we had no idea this was in our solar system?"

"It was stuck inside of a moon, dude," replied Mackie. "We didn't look for it until the Prothean ruins were discovered." The five of them were squeezed into the cockpit and looking out the large forward window. After all, it wasn't every day you left the solar system.

The relay came closer. John had known it was big, but as the ancient construct approached he got a true sense of the artifact's size. There was a swirling blue vortex in its middle that was constrained by several sets of rotating rings. He found the relay's movements almost hypnotic as they drew closer still. The relay became a giant metal expanse that made their ship seem like an ant crawling on a wall.

The three humans were all staring in wonder. Camicia was, in contrast, all business. "Our approach has begun. Hitting the relay in three...two...one..."

There followed a pulse of blue light which surrounded their craft, followed by a quick blur and a sensation that the whole ship had somehow been thrown like a dart by some overwhelming force. John barely had time to tense before it was all over. The ship was now suspended in a glowing purple expanse which looked like clouds. As he finally remembered to breathe again, he saw something nudging its way out of those clouds. It was a blue shape with massive vertical fins and a huge gaping mouth. John was reminded of a giant grouper that he'd seen once while snorkeling. "Is that the Citadel?" he asked.

"Nope," replied Mackie. "That's the Destiny Ascension, the asari super-dreadnought. The human fleet saved her ass during the geth attack." He looked a little smug as he said it.

Persephone shook her head. "Everybody saved everybody else's ass during that battle. The Ascension got in a few big shots against Sovereign during the final exchange."

The giant gaping shape moved overhead as they flew past. The Ascension wasn't as big as the Charon mass relay, but John still felt overwhelmed by the size of it.

Camicia pointed. "There it is. That's the Citadel."

The purple nebula parted, and he saw the five-lobed shape of the Citadel for the first time. And it was at that moment that John Wick finally realized the true scale of his new world.