Up Close and Personal
By: War Lioness
Chapter One: The Asari
2185 – Nos Astra
The hotel room could have been in any city, on any world in the galaxy. Only the art on the wall and the pattern of the bedspread ever changed. It was the most disconcerting aspect of the job. Eidetic memory made the rooms familiar, but the details were a jarring connection to the present.
The omni-tool on the night stand vibrated with an incoming message but the man sitting still and silent in the shadows did not interrupt his meditations. The device vibrated again and chirped once. A sigh whispered through the room as dark eyes fluttered open. With clear reluctance, he padded on silent feet to answer the call.
"Sere Krios." The voice was heavily modulated, but that was not unusual in his line of work.
"If you have this contact information, I presume you are calling for more than to simply waste my time."
"I have a job for you."
The assassin sighed. He had not advertised his services for many years and, yet, the calls still came from time to time.
"I'm listening."
2166 – The Citadel
She was an attractive woman, like all her species. Her crest swept back from her face in graceful curves, almost reminiscent of the scalp ridges of drell women. Her skin was a deep blue, speckled with lighter freckles and streaks, like the ocean depths on one of Kahje's rare sunny days.
He watched from the vent as she sent her assistant away on an errand and turned to the view screen on the wall to take a call.
"Matriarch T'Kolis, I assume you have received the files I sent you on the discovery at the Temple of Athame?" He recognized the asari councilor from his dossier on the mission.
His target raised the datapad she was holding. "If this information is accurate -"
"I assure you it is. I have seen the archives myself."
"Goddess, we can't allow this information to get out. We'd be forced out of the Council. At best!"
"Just so. That is why we need you to turn the tide of support on this appeal from the Illuminated Primacy, Nantria. We can't let those damn jellyfish get a foothold on Thessia."
"And that's exactly what will happen if the council approves their appeal to declare all prothean relics and ruins their heritage sights for the hanar." T'Kolis scrubbed at her face with one hand. "You're the asari representative, surely you can block the motion?"
Tevos gave the other asari a look of mild disgust. "You know I can't. I must vote according to the will of the people and right now there's a slight trend in favor of granting the request." The councilor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's a small enough majority that I could probably keep it tied up in committee for years but that damn Ambassador Felthos is surprisingly charismatic for a hanar-trained diplomat. I could almost damn the jellies for uplifting the drell. They'd have never gotten this much support if the face of the movement didn't looks much like an asari."
"I'll do what I can. I have already been able to keep support low on the boards. If I begin a fear-mongering campaign that the hanar will unreasonably restrict access to the sights and tie it in with the ongoing one that highlights advances the galaxy's made based on prothean tech. That might be enough to tip the balance. I'll talk to Alta about setting it up."
"I don't care, just get it done, and soon. I don't know how much longer I can put the vote off." Tevos ended the call and T'Koris recalled several of her assistants.
He waited, motionless in the shadows, for the flurry of activity to subside and fell into a light meditative trance. Finally the hum of orders being given, received and carried out died off and the light from outside the apartment's picture window faded as the Citadel entered its 10-hour night cycle. The last of the other asari left and he waited another half hour before cautiously removing the vent and dropping silently to the floor.
She faced away from him, gazing contemplatively at the nightscape spread out before her. She caught reflected movement and turned, perhaps thinking one of her aides had returned.
It was over in seconds.
The cartilage in her throat collapsed beneath his fist, and her arms restrained before she could think to use the mnemonics to call her biotics into play. He threw her to the floor and straddled her body, gripping chin and scalp tightly. Her eyes were wide and impossibly blue as realization dawned that her death was staring her in the face with impassive black eyes. She garbled an abortive attempt to speak as his fingers tightened and he wrenched her head until bone and cartilage gave with a wet crunch.
He did not pause to give her any last message. That was not the way of the Compact. Only death, quick and clean. The message was for her sisters. He took a moment to arrange her body and recite the prayers of thanks, of safe passage, of reconciliation.
He pulled himself back into the ducts as silently as he had left them and executed the subroutine he had inserted into the security system the day before erasing all electronic evidence of his presence in the apartment. From entrance to exit, the entire process had taken less than three minutes. He had allowed for five, in case she had had commando training not recorded in her file.
On the transport back to Kahje, it struck him. He was free. The Compact that had ruled his life nearly as long as he could remember released him on completion of this mission. He was free to marry the orange-eyed beauty who had stolen his heart that day on the plaza.
Irikah, his warrior angel. It still amazed him that she had come to return his affections. He was lost from the moment he saw her eyes flashing through the scope but she was under no similar compunction. It had taken many months for her to begin to return his affections, but even if she hadn't, she still would have left an indelible mark on his life.
He fingered the small bag in his pocket. Irikah had a fondness for a certain asari perfume. The late Matriarch Nantria T'Kolis favored the same scent. Irikah would appreciate the gift for their bonding ceremony.