Dannerum slammed his head onto the desk, not for the first time that day. Paperwork, he had decided was a worse punishment than the prisons he sent the criminals he was writing about too.
Dannerum Roarkah was a Turian, slightly taller than most and slimmer, with black plates and deep navy colony markings that were almost invisible.
He had worked at C-Sec, the Citadel's police force since he finished his military duties, and had regretted it since the start. The stake-outs he had no problems with, chasing suspects was great, but Dannerum had always despised the paperwork.
He had never been a particularly literate man, but now he was expected to write 1000 word reports on the most minor events. Dannerum struggled to find anything more to say then 'we found a drug dealer, we chased him, we arrested him'.
Dannerum had always toyed with just running off like that detective Vakarian did almost 2 and a half years ago, but there were too many things Dannerum could never leave behind. Forgetting the mountain of datapads on his desk, Dannerum decided to visit one of them.
The Citadel Morgue was directly below the C-Sec HQ, so after a short elevator ride, Dannerum stepped out and was immediately hit in the face by the smell.
To a Turians heightened senses, the stink of death emanating from the rooms along the corridor was almost unbearable.
He quickly covered his mouth and nose, holding the desire to gag, and dived into the room with a sign next to it, saying 'Dr. Shaal, Head of Post-Mortem Dept.'
The Doctor himself was bent over a table, examining with great interest what to Dannerum just looked like a big, stinky, yellow lump of flesh.
Dr. Halen Shaal was a Salarian, smaller than most with a dark green skin, his face was a patchwork of small scars, and whenever someone asked then about him, he just gave them a polite smile and said 'medicine, is more exciting than most perceive'.
Halen Shaal was one of the greatest unsolved cases C-Sec had ever come across; he had turned up a year and a half ago, and asked for a job. Any background checks on him came up with nothing. He cheerfully talked about how he had studied to become a medical doctor on Sur'Kesh, but would reveal nothing more.
After a detective the requested an official investigation into the small Salarian, C-Sec received a very polite message from the Salarian Counsellor herself, carefully but forcefully implying that all investigations into the past of Dr. Shaal were to be stopped immediately. After being questioned on this, Halen simply shrugged, and he was sent to where other people would consider the worst job in existence.
The Post-Mortem Department were in charge of examining the corpses of victims and finding out what killed them, and how it was done.
Halen took it into his stride, becoming an almost unlimited source of knowledge on the anatomy and medical treatments of all Citadel races, and most Non-Citadel, the Geth being the exception.
Halen had become Dannerum's best friend after they had been forced together to take down a Krogan crime syndicate.
After stepping into the room and quickly closing the door, Dannerum relaxed and turned around, only to notice the contents of the table.
He quickly grabbed a waste-paper bin and emptied his lunch into it. Halen just watched with a face contorted, trying to look concerned for his friend while stopping himself from laughing.
When Dannerum had stopped retching, Halen stripped himself of his surgical gloves and blood spattered lab-coat, only to replace with a clean one.
He knelt down next to the panting Turian and patted him cheerfully on the shoulder. He tutted at his friend and said, in a classical Salarian voice, high pitched and fast 'Danny, you know you're always sick when you come down here, if you wanted to talk, you can always call me and I'll be right up, I've told you before'.
Dannerum, who now had his whole head in the bin, replied 'I'm not coming out until you put that away!' pointing vaguely at the table.
Halen looked over his that shoulder 'That? That's just a Krogan stomach' he said dismissively.
Dannerum groaned and lowered slightly deeper into the bin.
Halen huffed and put his hands in the air 'Fine! I'm doing it!' he casually picked up the stomach and tossed from one hand to the other while he called into the intercom 'Johnson! I've got a job for you!' a voice yelled eagerly back 'On my way sir!'
Halen sighed 'Poor boy, brilliant mind but clouded, keeps going on about becoming a Spectre like that damn 'Blasto' you see everywhere'.
A skinny, redheaded human came running through the door, panting but beaming. 'What do you need sir?' Halen threw the stomach at him, which he caught awkwardly 'Take this to the freezer please, and oh yeah, I'm going to need a new bin, it appears that a Turian has died in this one'
Half an hour later, Dannerum was sitting in a small bar in Zakera ward, nursing a dextro-beer, while Halen sipped at a strange, purple cocktail, with an umbrella in it.
After a while, Halen perked up and broke the silence 'So, was there any reason behind you disturbing my work and making me take out the trash?' The Salarian grinned at his friend, but was slightly worried when Dannerum just stared glumly at the table.
Halen reached over and put his hand comfortingly over the Turians 'Hey, Danny I can see something's upsetting you, and you can tell me anything' Dannerum squeezed the doctors hand and smiled sadly 'I dunno Hal, I...I just think that C-Sec isn't the right place for me, I guess'
Halen could see that it was hard for Dannerum to admit this, from birth; Turians are taught to accept their place in life, to look at the bigger picture.
The small Salarian sighed and took a mouthful of his drink; he was going to need it.
Halen braced himself and said the only thing he knew would break his friend out his depression 'Then leave' he said simply, as if it wasn't a big deal.
Dannerum shook his head and looked at Halen, sorrow filled his eyes 'That's the problem Hal, I'm actually considering it'.
Halen hissed in air involuntarily, this was the first time he had heard Dannerum actually considering leaving. This meant trouble.
Halen scooted his chair round and put his arm around as much of the Turian's shoulders as he could reach. 'Look, im being serious here, you know I hate to see a Turian cry, because it's really gross and your snot is mildly acidic, so we're going back to my place, and we are going to work this out, I've known you a year and a half, which is a lot longer in Salarian terms'. Because of the increased metabolic system, most Salarians rarely reach past the age of 40.
Dannerum nodded mutely and allowed himself to be pulled gently into a Taxi.