Chapter 1 Rude Introductions
An asari in a charcoal black military uniform leaned up against the side of an open cargo door. One dark heavy boot positioned on the ships cold metal ramp, the other dangling freely off the bottomless side, a precipice of sheer death unable to perturb her. Drawing in a smoky breath from the cigarette between her fingers the asari tilted her head back ruefully, allowing the holding hand to drop, expelling a blanket of smoke. There were faces in that cloud she longed to forget, but always they would haunt, like an eerie party of antique recollections.
A cool blast of freshly circulated air ran the length of her body, clutching feebly at her attire, and brought a chill to her forehead like a caressing hand on a particularly heated day. It was bliss in these moments, free of thought; no sense of urgency dared trouble her mind with its ramblings. Though, the Goddess had an odd sense of humour, always making sure someone other than fates reign be present in times of ecstasy. That company could be favourable, however, more than was reasonable not.
"I heard we're getting new blood today." A husky Russian voice interrupted the asari's quiet.
The asari's eyes opened slowly, as if afraid of blinding light, before tilting down to stare through the young human male sat alongside the cargo ramp. Flicking her arm up methodically she offered the human the cigarette, braced between her fingertips carnivorously, before contemplating any kind of response to his conversing.
"So." It was a statement not a question to answer, but the human would no doubt answer anyway. It seemed to her there was no stopping the curious species.
The human took the cigarette diligently, inhaling lightly, before exhaling through his nose.
"New crew. Maybe new women!" The human chuckled tapping the side of the asari's spit-shine boot with a teasing hand.
"Don't do that." A growl emitted under the neutral words as the asari closed her eyelids gradually.
They sat in undisturbed silence a moment longer before an irritated salarian female, on a rampage, stomped up behind them from the ships interior. The females tired pupils darted rapidly around at the packed crates, her lips motioning as she read the contents, before falling unwilling upon the ignorant pair that occupied the ramp way.
"WhereisthenewdrivercoilthatIorderedtwodaysago!" She spoke at flustered light speed.
_________________________
A young human woman stepped outside of her aunt and uncles familiar quarters looking incredibly nervous. The ward street was wide, bland and foreign to the young woman, filled with the scent of disinfectant and her alien allies busying themselves with morning irrelevance. Continuous daylight always made her feel out of sorts coupled with the never ending reminder that her feet were rooted on a giant sheet of metal and not a planet with its own gravity and ecosystem keeping her with the living. However, these things were the least of her daily troubles. Today she wore her new camouflaged armour, helping her stand proud and straight through the anxiety she felt, and carried a note of directions in her hand, which the young woman stared at blankly.
'Docking bay 19, section 8, parapet 3.
Hierarchy III'
She read the words over and over, moving her lips silently, trying to lodge the brief instructions in the part of her mind that normally stored inappropriate fear. Shuffling a stray piece of, short curling maroon, hair from her autumn green eyes the woman gripped her free hand with insolence, at the universe in general, sighing with the weight of the Citadel on her shoulders. Taking a bold step forward, on her own private road of adult discovery, she heard the door behind her hiss open and an urgent sounding Irish women call out to her.
"Nano!" the women screeched causing some passers-by to misjudge their next action or pause to stare in a mist of bewildered curiosity.
"Huh? What?" Startled by the women's outburst Nano spun around on the spot, like an untrained ballerina, and began looking for danger instinctively.
"There you are girl. Frightened the life out of me, you did. I walk out into the lobby and I see your bags still here and you've left." The older women sighed, wiping worried sweat from her aged and wrinkled forehead. "Thought you'd be long gone, and I'd never catch up with a young thing like you, then you'd realize and have to come back and be late for your big day."
Bringing out the forgotten bag, Nano took it politely from her aunt giggling to herself for her stupidity, and feeling ever more thankful for her extended families continuing generosity with her. Nano was often plagued with confusion as to why the rest of the Carbery clan spoke little or unkindly of her aunt and uncle, they had treated the young woman as one of their own daughters, since her arrival on the Citadel some months previous. Perhaps, Nano thought meekly, it was simply because the couple had built a comfortable life for themselves and prospered. More often than not most dislike and hatred is built upon some form of jealous. Either way, Nano felt warmth of pride that the chance had been offered for her to learn more about this small welcoming part of her kin.
"Now don't go being late, hear me! Makes a bad impression and once that first impressions made---"
"I know. It 'can rarely be undone'."
"Yes. So don't go getting known for being at the right places at the wrong time." The older women fussed over Nano's hair for a moment then kissed a pale freckled cheek. "We're all dreadfully proud of you girl. Now go make everybody else proud of you to."
"Thanks. For everything." Nano returned the kiss to her aunt, feeling a bristling of tears spike at her eyes. "I'll come back and visit as soon as I'm on leave."
Nano tossed the small bag of belongings over her shoulder, taking a deep breath, she pivoted back around and began marching triumphantly away from her aunt, hoping somewhere on her birth planet her parents and siblings were wishing similar revelations of good will. Not more than three or four steps into her parade, however, the amused reverberation of her aunt's cackling laughter filled the young women's ears, now a strong colour of puce red as if aware of some humiliation her intellect wasn't, forcing her to pause and turn on her heels.
"You're going the wrong way girl!" Her aunt continued to cackle wildly.
Blushing with embarrassment Nano quickly turned and hurried away, from her aunt's laughter, streaking an aura of shame in her path.
________________________
"I hope you didn't expect a moment or two to yourself." The turian councillor peered over his desk, flaring his mandibles with mild annoyance. "A Spectre is on duty every second of their life. Being a Spectre is not all the prestige, glamour and power you might think it is. There is a great responsibility of trust upon your shoulders. It is a burden, no doubt about that, one that some Spectres cannot handle."
"Like Saren perhaps."
"Saren…" There was a long pause of disgust, the old turian sitting up a little straighter, at the mentioning of the ex-Spectre's name. "Saren has tainted the honour of the Turian Hierarchy with his sedition. I doubt you'll do anything to repair the damage he did."
The councillor continued watching his guest with a penetrating stare, yet, the old turian found only a calmly returned gaze searching him right back. It was disconcerting to say the least, particularly, as the councillors only wish for the time being was to put his younger fellow back into the lower pecking order where he belonged.
Too much time around those manipulative humans had obliviously polluted this one beyond repair, the older male fumed quietly, there was a complete lack of turian respect in his gaze that made the councillor burn on the inside. It was turians like his guest that created an impression of weak, feeble mindedness for the entire species and worse, made rippling changes in the hierarchy's perfection. Idealists, the older turian frowned on the inside wishing he could find a good reason for the death penalty, or at least long, hard, degrading service in a mine to wipe that look of distilled clarity from the impressionable whelp.
"I did not want to invite you into the Spectres." He watched the other more viciously, a desperation was starting to grow in him, to make the man in the opposite seat crack, twitch, blink anything. "I denied you. However, the other councillors out voted me. You had the recommendation of that human, a tarnishing stain on your character in my opinion. Your old superiors didn't have much good to say about you."
The older male snorted fiercely, with the air of a man who knows he is superior in every way, and began typing at his computer-bringing up a file which he scanned meticulously and read allowed like the final testimony at a legal presiding.
"Insubordinate… unorthodox in dealings… rule breaker… uses excessive force… questionable interrogation practices… " Clicking off the workstations screen he turned back to his associate, clasping his hands with triumph. "Not what I would call Spectre material."
"With all due respect sir, that sounds exactly like Spectre material. I think I sound rather… what is that human phrase… 'Badass'?"
The councillor's mandibles flared a few times listening to his guest's repartee, eyes narrowed and deadly, before resting comfortably again. Realizing his defeat for this skirmish, as those calm probing blue eyes stared back at him naively, the councillor considered his chances of winning the war and decided to continue with the real reason his visitor was summoned to his heels.
"The council has a mission for you. A nice dangerous one. You'll need a ship; the councils temporarily assigned the Hierarchy III for your disposal. It's a small Frigate, not as luxurious as you're used to but," he looked his younger counterpart up and down with distain, "It should suit you fine." Eying his opposition darkly he continued with newly ignited malice. "You'll have three ground troops on board and a modest crew. A Lieutenant-Commander Ioik is currently the XO onboard. I'll warn you, she… wait I'd rather let you find out yourself." The old turian grinned with a child like evil. "The Lieutenant-Commander will do whatever you order, but the ship and the crew are her responsibility. Any questions Vakarian?"
Garrus Vakarian, newly appointed Spectre, straightened in his seat fully.
"What's the mission?"
"I'm glad you asked." There was something dangerous and amused in the old turian councillor's voice that made Garrus feel somewhat uneasy.
_______________________________
Nano, bag gripped despondently in both hands now, peered around the C-sec academy looking fervently for the lift to the Docks. A fog of despair was beginning to outline a physical representative, ensuing the young women, and contemplated whether or not the newly forming sentience should apply for its own office at the citadel embassy. She had already mistaken the lift to the Garage's for the one she needed, though not all was lost. A nice young human officer, Eddie Lang Nano considered with girlish merriment, had all but forced his contact details on her and requested her presence for an evening rendezvous. She'd had to refuse, of course, but it still put an extra skip in her step and a little more height in her posture, though she still wondered what a 'rendezvous' actually was, perhaps an alien cuisine, the young human considered.
Swinging her small, bulky, bag over her shoulder once more she spun around on the spot looking up at the never-ending ceiling and growing increasingly dizzy with each rotation, relishing the light headed sensation that numbed the distress the morning was bringing to the party, like a keg of cheap booze. Amazing that the building had all but been destroyed, from Sovereigns attack, but six months earlier and already it was in full working order and teeming with streams of life. The power of industry was certainly—
"Ow!"
Nano paused her swinging suddenly, realizing, her bag had smacked an unsuspecting pedestrian square in the face. Spinning to face the guiltless victim, wide eyed and subservient, Nano froze as she stared up at the towering krogan, rubbing his head viciously. The personified fog of despair retreated, out of the potential crime scene, with haste.
"I am so—"
"Save it kid." The krogan glared down at the young woman, an insanity in his eyes scarcely under control, but thought better of starting a fight in the middle of the C-sec academy. He could already feel the eyes trained on his location and sense the movements en route to weaponry. Pushing her to the side lightly the krogan continued on his course muttering insults directed at the human race in general and deliberated bleakly of paying a visit to Chora's Den, having some drinks, watching the dancers and starting an old fashion brawl simultaneously.
Nano waited for the krogan to shuffle completely out of sight before she allowed herself to intake breath once more. It was then that Chellick, a turian C-sec detective, made his way towards the young woman, having watched her collision with the krogan wearily. Tapping the human females armoured shoulder, lightly with a talon, the detective used his best customer service portrayal.
"Lost?" he queried.
"Uh… kind of. I'm looking for the lift to the Docks."
"You mean the one you're standing in front of?" An amused tone reached the turian's voice as he pointed at the huge towering pillar they were standing next to.
Nano slapped her forehead with her palm gaining the response of subdued laughter from Chellick. Coupled with the harmonic tones in his voice, which made his quiet laughter sound somewhat like demonic sirens, and the krogan incident Nano was beginning to feel more on edge with aliens at this exact instant in time than her four months on the station had managed to accumulate all together. The young woman was already pondering forgetting the job, and the hour of morning, and getting a number of stiff drinks into her bodily systems.
"The entrance is around the opposite side." As an after thought Chellick decided to offer a refrain from the obvious distress the human female was in and added, "Its easy enough to miss on your first visit to C-sec. This is your first visit?"
"Well… yes! Of course! I'm not a criminal!" The woman outburst, met with more laughter from Chellick.
"I'm glad to hear. Good luck in finding your way!" The detective nodded agreeably, feeling comfortably reassured this ticking time bomb was defused safely and on the move away from his jurisdiction. If nothing else, he was pleased to note, his attempts at human humour was finally beginning to graft correctly.
"Uh… thanks." Nano, waved a hand briefly to the detective before skulking around the side of the elevator, feeling somewhat deflated from her initial wonder of the place. At least her, first day on the job, anxiety was subsiding she considered entering the lift and hitting a button labelled "Docking bay 19". At that moment another turian gracefully strode into the lift, briefly glancing away from his file of papers to check the next stop and planting himself to the side of the human female efficiently.
The doors slid shut, slow and monotonously as the elevator began its ascent, its tedious background music reminiscent of a computers personal shower concert. Nano rocked on her heels back and forth slowly, staring at the blurred view outside, there wasn't much to see apart from the C-sec generic grey walls.
A lacklustre expression faded onto her face, as the lift hovered onward like an unappreciated thespian, her pupils sliding side long leisurely inching towards the turian reading his papers diligently. He seemed blissfully unaware of her presence, though not entirely, as Nano found when his eyes darted side long at hers in response to her staring.
She looked away instinctively, from her innocent curiosity, back at the blurred view; the docks were coming into sight now passing one after the other in a repetitive rhythm. It was impressive to see all those multicoloured interstellar ships, floating miraculously on their magnetic leashes, but after Docking bay 10 the young human female found her eyes tracing their way back to peer at the turian like a circus spectacle.
His blue clan face paint and bright orange optical interface did bring visions of a suspect clown, at a cheap children's party, to the forefront of Nano's mind forcing her to stifle a guffaw.
The turian male made what could only be described as a coughing sound and adjusted his standing position to favour his opposite foot, facing ever so slightly, away from the human woman. I wonder what he's reading; Nano contemplated boredly, paying no attention to the turian male's subtle hints, trying to catch a glimpse of printed writing.
As if on cue the turian slid the papers, with a tender rustle considered incapable with talon fingers by most species, back into the folder they rested upon and turned briefly to look at Nano. She looked away again, feeling as if mother had caught her with her hands in the cookie jar, this time to give great deliberation to something fascinating on the bare ceiling.
The door hissed open breathlessly, as if to say "Tadaa" to its disinterested occupants, the turian's distinctive taloned footsteps echoing out of the lift. Looking back down Nano sighed with relief before realizing they were at her stop and the elevator, vexed at its dwellers lack of animated thrill, doors were closing unsympathetically. The young woman dashed towards the shrinking gap and threw herself violently from the lift, in an act of desperation to escape the mind-numbing elevator voyage, almost losing her bag to the spiteful doors and paused awestruck at the expanse of vessels docked at bay 19.
"How the hell am I going to find my ship!"
________________________________
Garrus stepped thoughtfully onto the command deck of his temporary ship noting everything worth paying mind, and blocking everything else like a bad hangover memory. It was cramped and smelt a bit like an amalgamation of different species sweat and pheromones, but not all to unpleasant.
He had seen far worse specimens when, working as an agent in C-sec, searching criminal vessels for evidence or useful information. The turian looked about soundlessly, and bewildered, at his 'modest crew'; a single salarian tapping furiously at a terminal appeared to be the only other being on the command deck and its vicinity. Garrus approached him slowly still clutching his folder of papers and turned his optical interface on in order to look impressive to the salarian, whose species tended to get hypnotised by rapid moving numbers and bright colours.
"I'm looking for the XO on board, Lieutenant-Commander Ioik."
"Busy." The salarian responded without hesitation.
Garrus looked at the salarian with a puzzled gaze deciding to try an alternative route to get the information he wanted.
"I don't think you understand. I'm the Spectre, Garrus Vakarian, in charge of this ship."
The salarian stopped his frantic tapping, peering up from his console in a slow deliberate motion and instantly began to shake at the sight of the turian, though the bright colours and speeding numbers did catch his mesmerized attention for a second of ADHD lucidity.
"Oh… oh… um… oh … uh…." The salarian's eyes grew unreasonably larger, threatening to consume the last of his face, with fear stuttering over sounds and unformed words.
"Your commanding officer, where is she?" Garrus tried again, wondering for a moment if the salarian would simply transform into a pair of eyeballs on a stick shaped neck, bemused and proud that a simple mentioning of his name and rank could bring someone to such panic.
Behind Garrus there was a slow intake of mechanical sounding air followed by an intrigued muffled voice.
"The Lieutenant-Commander is not here."
Garrus twisted around to see the ethereal voice, however, not seeing anybody on direct eye level the Spectre let his gaze drop unbelieving downwards till a volus, barely four foot in height, came into view. The turian was somewhat more astonished when he realized this was a member of the Hierarchy IIIs crew, a Citadel Military badge stuck accusingly on the pokey volus' encounter suit.
"When will the XO return?"
There was another intake of harsh artificial breath from the volus followed by his dispassionate words.
"I do not know. She was called away on an emergency."
"Whose in charge for the time being?" Garrus watched as the volus sauntered passed him, a man about business, and pointed a stubby arm towards the trembling salarian.
"2nd Lieutenant Karaten. Strangers make him nervous." The volus patted the salarian's waist, reassuring his superior paternally, and in took air once more continuing impassively towards his destination.
Garrus watched the volus progress away before looking upward at the contrasting salarian, standing roughly twice the height of the volus and a little above himself, whose nerves were beginning to settle with the stranger on board his ship. The turian was about to attempt opening communications with the Lieutenant again when he heard a series of bizarre, worrying, sounds.
Glimpsing down, at the latticed metal floor, he saw through the gaps what appeared to be a turian thrashing and moaning as two others, another turian and possibly a human, carried him through the lower deck walkway. The curiosity of the ex-c-sec officer, got the better of him, forcing him impulsively to make his way down to the lower floor and through the confined corridor he'd seen from above in such modest detail.
The sound of alarmed muffled voices, the turian's moaning, and what could only be described as a container of Clangers being dropped, led the ex-c-sec investigator like a proud bloodhound in a hunting party to the Med lab entrance. Pressing the door release the Spectre hurried inside eager to solve this mystery, like the human novels he guiltily read in secret, only to be confronted by a strange sight of flailing jumbled body parts, oddly reminiscent of a vid he'd accidentally rented out on interspecies mating methods.
The wailing turian was being forcefully held down by the two who had carried him in whilst a, large human male, Doctor attempted to inject him with an unidentified substance.
"Hold his head still! I can't get the damn needle in if he keeps trying to bite me!" The Doctor looked clearly frustrated; the other turian present managing to force his fellows head down onto the bed whilst maintaining the grip, on his share, of flailing arms with the opposite hand.
"What is going on here?" Garrus called out.
The third member of the struggling orgy, the one the Spectre had suspected of being a human, suddenly looked directly at him bewildered and furious at his presence.
"Who are you!" The woman barked like an angry order.
The Spectre was momentarily stunned by the woman's response to his perfectly reasonable question before he realized something was not right about the woman who stared at him. There was a general human look about her, but also something alien he couldn't quite put his talons on. It took Garrus a couple of seconds, for his gut to move up and clout his brain in the stupid corner of his mind, to click that the eyes he was gawping into were not human eyes; they were a turian blue like his own.
"I got him!" The Doctor exclaimed pulling a syringe out from the soft spot under the turian patients chin. "You can let go, he should be out like a light in a few seconds."
A numb feeling suddenly swept over the Spectre, giving him the sensation of falling out of a warm comfy bed for longer than should be expected, he found his legs taking full control of his body marching him out of the relieved room and depositing him against a nearby wall. Garrus' brain hit melt down, rather than think logically, for a moment as it attempted to process what he'd just seen. It couldn't be as he mulled over confounded, a shocked disgusted feeling he couldn't place welled upwards in his stomach, and for a moment he thought he might vomit or simply pop out of existence.