A/N: Hello there! So, I noticed that people read the first installment of this (Archangels and Gunsmoke), and I thought, what the hell, I should do it. I should write a fanfiction. So this is the second bit of that, continuing from the first chapter. As always, some dialogue comes from the game, while other parts of it are of my own imagination. The plot, the characters, the names, places, all of that jazz belongs to the lovely EA and BioWare! Let me know if there is anything you want to see written. I may already have plans for it! Review, fave, and follow as you wish.
Side notes: *Though I admit some things are not correct or are added in, you can actually bring Garrus into the quarantine zone. I've done it. It's the best.
*I feel like though they have become much more advanced, the human race will still make references way before their time. Maybe not to other species, but to other humans? Definitely. At least, that's my head canon.
*I really hope I stayed enough in character. There is a lot more conversation now that Garrus is included, and by that I mean conversation of my own creation. I'm not too worried about Shepard. I sort of take the "create your own character and input/create a personality" route. But let me know if Garrus and Jacob are annoyingly out of character.
*Also, as a final side note, on Youtube if you look up ME2 Dossier: The Professor, and turn on YT captions, the dialogue gets FUNNY. Can you guess which part I'm referring to?
Ren Shepard stared at the door to Afterlife, Omega's most popular and most dangerous dance club. Popular because, as like all other dark corners of the station, it attracted seemed to attract all sorts of trouble. Mercenaries, sleazy human males, scantily dressed asari, any many others where lined up outside the door. It was dangerous because of Aria T'loak
The asari was, to quote, the CEO, the queen if one was feeling dramatic, of Omega. She knew everything about the station, and controlled enough people on Omega to be considered dangerous. If Aria wanted you, you went to her, no questions asked. She also had a nasty habit of exchanging information for unspoken favors. She never told anyone outright about it, but if you were smart you could see it in her eyes. And Shepard was, at this time, avoiding asking for anymore than she already had.
"Just go in, get the information, and get out." Garrus Vakarian, formerly known as Archangel, a former C-Sec officer, turian, and friend gave her a push toward the door. She slid a side ways glare toward him, and he smirked with the good side of his face.
She gripped the data pad in her hand tightly and then loosened her grip again. It held information about Aria that one of the mercenary groups had dug up on her. She figured that this in exchange would make them almost even. A few days ago, Shepard had marched into Omega and asked about the more interesting dossier, which, in turn, turned out to be her close friend Garrus. At least now she'd only owe her a single favor.
"EDI?" Shepard asked. EDI was the Normandy SR-2's AI and the current bane of Joker's existence. Her voice came alive with a slight beep. "You haven't found anything else other than the fact that this guy runs a clinic in the slums? Do you know if he's there now?"
The AI was quick to respond. "My knowledge of him is limited to the dossier and other leaked information. I cannot confirm he is at his clinic right now, but I cannot deny the fact that there is a statistical possibility he is there. However, I have picked of reports of a plague in that general area of the clinic."
Shepard sighed. "Alright. Thank you, EDI."The AI shut off, and Shepard stared at the door in silence again. She really didn't want to do this, she didn't want to owe her a favor. But on the other hand, she always had a saying when it came to times like this. When in doubt, drink afterward to forget. This was going to take a lot of alcohol.
Behind her, Garrus groaned. "Would you go in already? It's either talk to Aria or take your chances with a plague and iffy directions."
Her other companion, Jacob Taylor, had spoken up for the first time since they had arrived. "Have you ever met Aria T'loak? In the first two minutes our feet touched the station to look for your sorry ass, one of her men came to us, demanded our presence, and pointed about half a dozen guns in our faces." He looked pointedly at Garrus. "I wouldn't exactly be rushing back into her arms if I were Shepard. She's already been dead once."
Shepard rolled her eyes. That comment was enough to get her animated again as she pushed the button to open the doors. Muted music shook the walls of the hallway surrounded by holographic flames.
The trio walked though the doors, and Shepard shook her head, trying to clear out any nervousness she had. She was already forced under the Illusive Man's thumb, and so far, no one could trust her as far as they could throw her; and that said a lot given the biotics these days.
"Commander Renita Shepard, Alliance Navy. The woman who defeated Saren, Sovereign, and the geth. Savior of the Citadel. Once bitten, twice reckless as the humans say. And you can't face an asari who has a little power?" Garrus teased. "How hard did you hit your head when you died?"
Shepard lightly smacked the back of his head. "Would you stop?" she growled. "It's not about her, her mercs, or her power. It's about owing someone like her a favor."
Jacob nodded his head in agreement. "She doesn't trade any information freely. She just doesn't tell you that. You never know when she'd going to collect or what she'd going to have you do." He shrugged. "Information always has a cost."
The commander pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed bitterly. "In two years, that seems to be the only thing that hasn't changed." She opened the door at the end of the hallway.
The base of the music hit Shepard's ears full force as the entered the club. Wrapped around the room there were tables hidden in dark corners, no doubt hiding something illegal. There was a bar to the left of the doors where different species drank and happily lolled along the bar itself or against another, more sober costumer. The lights were dim and flashing orange red against the metal floor. In the middle of the room hug a large, cylindrical screen glowed a warm fuchsia and flashed images of scantily clad asari dancers. If that wasn't ostentatious enough, the floor around the screen opened up and around it there was a balcony where many males of Shepard's own species drooled over the dancers themselves. There was a circular bar hanging by poles from the ceiling and surrounding the ring on which the asari twisted. The whole scene resembled Chora's Den, the male entertainment club back on the Citadel. As they passed by a particularly large group of intoxicated males, to her chagrin Shepard heard both Jacob and Garrus whistle appreciatively.
She sighed. At least they were blending in.
In the back of the room there was a double staircase that led to a more private area. Each side had a very dangerous looking alien with a gun to guard it. The private area was small, and bout six other "guards" stood around a short, wide stair case that lead to a wrap-around couch and balcony that over saw the whole club. It was there that Aria would sit and wait like a spider in her web.
Shepard turned to her companions before ascending the stairs. She offered Garrus a tight-lipped smile. "I need to you act normal up there, okay? Stay on the platform below the stairs. The last time I was here, they scanned up and checked for weapons."
"Okay," Garrus said, making the word sound more like a question.
"That would be okay, but hopefully they won't know your sniper. There are a few mercs around there that reek of the Blue Suns," Shepard murmured.
She saw Garrus stiffen at her words, and she quickly added, "I don't think they know who you are, or that you're," she lowered her voice, "alive." She glanced over her shoulder. "Just don't give them any reason to think you're...well, you know. As long as they think you're with Jacob and I, you should be safe. Understood?"
Garrus's jaw clenched and he winced a bit. "Understood."
She turned to Jacob, who's attention for the moment was all on her. By the look in his eyes, she could tell that Afterlife made him feel on edge as well. Funny how this place could set him off, but working for Cerberus allowed him a peaceful night's rest. "Jacob, you know the drill."
"Yeah. I don't think they'll do another scan though."
"Maybe not," she allowed. She eyed the turian next to them and then turned them back to Jacob. "But please, don't throw around the word Archangel," the last word she leaned in to whisper. "It could get both of you hurt."
"Understood, Commander," Jacob said with a nod.
Shepard gave both of them a once over and then gave them each a nod. "The last thing we need today is a gunfight in a bar." And with that she ascended the stairs that lead to Aria. As she reached the top, a batarian pressed a warning hand to her chest and shook his head. Aria's head snapped around as she caught his motion in her peripheral.
The asari was, in this light, purple-toned. Her lips were darkened with lipstick and her face was outlined in tattoo's that somehow set off her pissy mood. It was probably in the way they arched like eyebrows above her eyes and the line of it that looked like a thick lip ring. She wore a short, white, red-nylon-lined jacket that exposed her shoulders and midriff. It buckled across her chest, and covered little else. Though the outfit left very little to the imagination, Shepard thought that she looked less like sex and more like venom. Like a snake, watching you with her sharp, blue eyes.
She gave Shepard a dark smirk before taking a seat on the couch and signaling for the batarian to let her by.
She gestured for Shepard to sit. She did, trying to keep her distance as far as possible without being offensive.
Before Shepard could open her mouth, Aria spoke. "So I heard the lower levels of Omega where silenced a few days ago." Her cold eyes slid a sideways glance to Shepard. "Three mercenary group leaders all dead."
Shepard took a deep breath. "I heard something like that, but I really don't like to concern myself with the politics of Omega. Or, rather, lack thereof, " she said softly.
Aria smiled darkly and took her eyes off of Shepard to stare straight ahead. The other followed her eyes, and what they had landed on made Shepard's breath catch and her posture become rigid. Aria was eyeing Garrus with a knowing look.
"I hear that the Archangel is dead," she mused, tapping her chin in mock thought. "But sources say they found no body. So I can't really be sure." She shrugged and swiveled her head to look at Shepard, and Shepard averted her eyes, trying to focus on anything else. "The batarian from the Blue Suns - what was his name? Turk? Tarleck? Tarak? - I had heard he managed to shoot the bastard with a missile before he crashed his gunship."
Shepard tried to keep her face calm. Damn her and her games. Damn her for knowing, damn the Illusive Man for putting her in this position, and damn Cerberus altogether. The data pad was to be used to buy her back a favor. She'd only owe one favor if she'd shown T'loak the information stored on it and told her the intentions of what was to be done with it. But now? She'd owe her two favors. One for the information on Archangel's whereabouts, and another for maintaining the illusion that he was dead. Oh, how she hated this; she was stuck in Cerberus's cage because she needed help, and now it seemed she would have to be chained to Aria.
"If he is alive," Aria droned, breaking Shepard from her way of thought, "he would probably have a scar." Her smile belonged to the devil and she brought her gaze to the turian who was now making small talk with Jacob. "Maybe broken armor," she tacked on. "Definitely hard to miss."
Shepard's glare was deadly and steady as she met Aria's eyes. "He's dead," She said through her teeth. "I was just getting to the bridge when I saw him killed. His body was obliterated. The only thing that would be left would be anything you can scrape off the walls."
Aria nodded. "I thought so."
There was a pregnant pause before Shepard handed Aria the data pad. "I found this while I was going after Archangel. They were coming for you next." She sat back and watched Aria as she tried to control the anger in her eyes. It was there for only moment, and was replace by her normal, cold exterior.
"Interesting," she murmured, staring at the words on the screen.
Her face suddenly contorted in anger and she flung the pad at the batarian guard, knocking him on the head. She stubbled to catch the data before it could shatter on the ground. "Would somebody like to tell me how this information slipped the net?!" Her voice was heard clearly above the music and was filled with such rage and venom that even Shepard leaned away from her.
"I-I'll look into it," the batarian stuttered, trying to collect himself.
Aria bared her teeth at the other in a vicious, animalistic growl before settling back into the couch. Her calm was gone, but she seemed to regain some kind of control as she took a deep breath.
"Thanks for the heads-up, Shepard," Aria said, and her voice was voice of any kind of malice. She still sounded like a bitch, sure, but there was a bit of thankfulness mixed into her usual conduct. "Look's like I'll have to do a little cleaning in my organization."
Shepard nodded. "I owed you for the head's up about the merc recruitment," she said honestly. "And speaking of, I..." she hesitated. Was going in blind really such a bad idea? So what if he wasn't there? Omega was a big ship, but the guy had to come back eventually. But despite her resistance to the alien's help, she needed to know where he would be. "I'm looking for Mordin Solus. Do you have any idea where I could find him?"
Aria's smirk turned from condescending to impressed. He toned sounded a bit shocked as she spoke. "The salarian doctor?"
Shepard gave her a quick nod.
"Last I heard he was trying to help plague victims in the quarantine zone."
So EDI had ben correct about a plague breakout. Freaking excellent; it was the cherry-on-top to the day. Jeez, if she got anymore pessimistically sarcastic, she'd sprout mandibles and a head fringe.
Aria continued. "I always liked Mordin. He's as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you."
Very reassuring.
"How do I get to him?"
Aria rolled her eyes, her expression back to being pinched in annoyance. "If you really need to find him, take a shuttle to the quarantine zone. No guarantee they'll let you in of course."
Shepard nodded grimly and stood. She had her information, and understood the terms of the favors she owed Aria, that she could come at anytime to collect. "Thanks for your time and the information, T'loak. I should go and find him while he's still kicking."
Aria gave her a bored look. "Just don't bring the plague back with you," she spat.
Shepard grit her teeth as she took the steps and wondered vaguely if this disease affected the asari.
She passed Jacob and Garrus and gave them a head nod, indicating that the discussion was over. As soon as they where out of ear shot from the guard stationed at the foot of the stairs, Garrus let loose a long relieved sigh.
"See what I mean?" Shepard sighed, making a beeline for the bar.
"All I saw were two Blue Suns mercs that wouldn't stop eyeing my scar."
Jacob nodded and looked over his shoulder. "I had to get him talking about the news about the 'fallen Archangel'. Even then, glad we left when we did."
Shepard signaled the bartender - a turian with a long fringe and red face paint that made him look menacing in the light of the room - for three shots and transferred the funds via omnitool. Their drinks were served quickly, and the bartender made sure to set apart the red-tinted dextro drink meant for the turian. Shepard downed hers as soon as it grazed her fingertips.
Garrus chuckled and took his drink. "Do you think it's wise to drink right before a mission?" he teased. Shepard only shot him a withering glare to which he answered with an uncharacteristic snort. He revised. "So, where are we headed?"
Shepard sighed and cleared her throat. "A quarantined plague zone. Hence," she gestured toward the bar halfheartedly, "the alcohol."
Jacob downed his own drink and rolled his shoulders. "Ready when you are," was all he said.
When in doubt drink, and when in peril, drink more. She smiled to herself as she started toward the exit. A first meeting with a supposed "mad scientist" who was not only handy with a gun but locked away in a quarantined zone.
Yep. In this situation, she deemed it very wise to drink.
"I told you to get lost lady. The plague has the whole zone quarantined! Nobody gets in!" A turain. Male. Armored with a gun poised and ready in his arms. Hired guard, and probably a pain in the ass.
"I'm human you ass! Humans can't get the plague." Human female. Short hair. Resident. Loud. Not armed. Colossal bitch, give or take the situation. But it was most likely a fact. "Now let me get my stuff before looters get to it!"
The turian narrowed his eyes on her. "This plague affects every other thing out there. We're not taking chances!" He pointed a sharp finger in her face as if to make the point clearer. "Nobody gets in until the plague has run its course."
Shepard had watched this conversation with piqued interest. She had to get into the quarantine zone, no matter the chances of survival. If she was lucky, maybe Cerberus would find a new N7 recruit to resurrect. She interjected her comment as the woman next to her started to open her mouth. "So you're saying the slums are completely sealed off?" she asked, faking the irritation she let leak into her tone.
The turain looked slightly taken aback as she simplified his words. "Finally a human that can hear! Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."
"You can't keep me out!" the woman blurted. "I'm gonna loose all my stuff."
A pang of pity for her hit Shepard, and she made a mental note to clear each home of raiders, albeit she found any.
"I'm doing you a favor, human," the guard growled out with infinite patience. "Anybody in the quarantine zone will be dead from the plagues or the gangs in a few weeks."
Oh joy. Gangs had already surfaced. Not that it was particularly surprising; it wasn't at all, actually. But the visit with T'loak had all but withered her patience. Blue Suns, Blood Pack, or anything else she found down there would all be subject to immediate termination if they shot first.
"I didn't think Omega had any kind of law enforcement, " Shepard stated honestly. "Who gave you the order to quarantine the slums?"
The turian chuckled an bit and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Fresh off the transports, huh?" he asked, and there was a condescending note to it, like he was talking to a child. "Aria T'loak calls the shots around here."
"Of course she does," Shepard mumbled low enough so that only she could hear. She had been vaguely hoping that he'd just been a good samaritan. Or a hired merc. Or an undercover C-Sec officer. Or anything else that wasn't involved with Aria.
"She's got her little blue hands on every business in this district," the other continued. "And the plague is bad for business. She hired us to keep anyone from entering or leaving the quarantine zone."
Shepard shook her head. "Well I'm sorry, but there is a salarian named Mordin Solus in the slums. I've got to get in there to find him."
The guard's face went from understanding patience to an annoyed sneer. "The doctor?" He huffed and turned his back. "That crazy bastard opened a clinic in the district a few months ago. The Blue Suns weren't too happy when he moved in."
Fan-freaking-tastic. The Blue Suns would probably know her face instantly.
"I hear Mordin is trying to deal with the plague," the guard went on, his face softening a degree. I wish him luck." Then more seriously, "But the area is still locked down. Our orders are to wait until either the plague or the Blue Suns kill everyone. Then go in and clean up."
And just like that, Shepard felt the need to step in not because of her mission and the help that was required, but because of the cruel orders from Aria. Innocent people dying was not something that happened on her watch. She wanted to kick herself, but even if she didn't want to help these strangers, she would have.
"Any idea where I can find Mordin's clinic?" she asked, walking to step passed the turian. He grabbed her arm roughly and tossed her back a few feet. She felt Garrus's hand brush her elbow to steady her while she shot daggers at the alien in front of them.
"No one get's through here. I'm sorry." He shifted his gun and rolled his neck. "And to answer your question, no. Not a clue. But it doesn't matter. The place in quarantined. No one is getting in or out."
"What's with this plague anyway?" Garrus asked, his voice frustrated, his stance C-sec stiff. "The human said it doesn't affect her kind. What then?"
The turian shifted his feet, sizing up Garrus. A male thing, she was sure. "It's starts out as a cough," he said darkly. "Then, you start coughing blood. And then..." he hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. "Well, then I shoot you."
Shepard flinched at the coldness of the statement.
"It affects multiple species," he continued. "Turians, salarains, krogan, you name it. Only humans are immune. And vorcha, if you count them." The turian spat the other species name in disgust, and Shepard found she couldn't blame him. Her back and ribs still bore the fading bruises from her last encounter, so she wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy toward them. "An airborne disease that takes down multiple races?" He shook his head. "Can't let that spread."
Shepard slowly nodded. "So you mentioned the Blue Suns," Shepard said cautiously. "What brings them here?"
"The local mercenary gang? They've had territory here for years." The turian suddenly avoided her eyes. "Mostly turian though. After a few weeks, they've all but been wiped out. The territory is up for grabs now." He shrugged and swiveled his head to that he was looking at the doors to the slums. "I hear the vorcha are making a move. The plague can't hurt them; they're immune to disease."
Shepard crossed her arms and rose an eyebrow. She could see it in the way he talked about the vorcha and about the Blue Suns. More likely than not, he had a friend who went in, got hit by the plague, and never came out. Vorcha started to move in around the time of the quarantine, and she was willing to bet he nor any other guards weren't going to risk their hide to avenge a fallen comrade. No matter if it was a friend or just the same species,
He'd want to leave this spot as much as she wanted to find the professor.
"Listen," Shepard drawled, running a hand through her hair, "you're stuck here 'till this quarantine is over." The other only nodded slowly so she continued. "That could take weeks." She shifted her body a bit so that her hand was resting on her gun. "What you really need is to get this problem solved right now."
The turian cocked his head to the side, mandibles quirked into a curious expression. "I'm listening."
Shepard smiled a bit. "You see, that's what I do; solve problems. Let me in," her thumb jerked toward the entrance, "and I'll get this district sorted out."
The turian let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, shit. You think you can fix this?"
Shepard only nodded.
"Then why not? The quarantine is mostly to keep infected people in anyway." He shrugged and Shepard had to fight hard against the oncoming smile. "I'll radio ahead, tell them you're coming."
"Wait!" the human female cried, turning her flaming eyes onto Shepard who only gave her a sheepish half-smile in return. "You're stopping me and not them? You sonofabitch!"
The guard just rolled his eyes. "You don't have a grenade launcher, lady."
She snarled a few unintelligible curse words in outrage and stomped off to some other part of the district.
Shepard turned to her companions and smiled in triumph. If there was one thing that came over into this next life it was her silver tongue.
Garrus was the first to speak. "A quarantine zone with a plague that kills turians." He gave a mock sigh. "Why can't we ever go someplace nice?"
Shepard snorted, and moved her hand to cover her mouth and muffle her laughter. "You are going someplace nice," she said between giggles. "Jacob, radio Miranda and tell her we'll need her help on this mission."
Garrus narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"
Shepard turned to Garrus. Honestly, she did want to take him with her. It would have been like old times. Sarcastic banter, keeping score by a point system based on which part of the body took the kill shot. Had this been a different situation, Garrus would have been on his first mission in two years with her. But she wouldn't risk her teammate - her friend - like that.
Her eyes narrowed at the strange expression Garrus was giving her. He looked almost angry. Normally, a frown and sense of mild annoyance was all you received from Vakarain when he expressed displeasure. "What?" she asked sharply.
"You aren't sending me back to the Normandy."
"Oh yes I am," Shepard snapped. "You have an open wound on your face. You're a turian. You stay behind this time, Garrus." She shook her head. "If the risk was less, I'd consider letting you come. But this?" She shook her head.
Garrus glowered at her. "Miranda or no, I'm coming with you on this mission."
"It's not that important Garrus," Shepard insisted. "Besides, Doctor Chakwas said you should rest up anyway. You could - "
"I'm not going to let -"
"- play solitaire, catch up with Joker -"
"- a damn cough -"
"- and do as the doctor said instead of completely ignoring my orders!"
"- slow me down!"
They had both spoken over each other as they often did when they argued. Voices raising over each others in an attempt to be heard by the other while others, to their chagrin, stared in confusion. They had both heard each other loud and clear, and Shepard knew from experience that though she was stubborn, she could never win against Garrus.
"I said no," she stated firmly, knowing she sounded more like a mother than the commander she was supposed to be.
"And I'm electing to ignore that you did," Garrus countered.
"Garrus, the risk -"
"Is nothing worse than what we've been through before," he finished. She had to admit, he had a valid point. But she didn't have to like it.
They stared each other down for what felt like an hour before Shepard growled, "Scratch the call, Jacob. Miranda needs to rest her leg anyway." Which was partially true; she'd been bitten by a varren the last time they'd entered into a mission together. But medigel had healed most of it. But if she made it sound like this was about Miranda more than it was her having a slight soft spot for Garrus, it made the command seem for official.
Jacob closed his omnitool. "I didn't even make the call." He glanced back and forth between the turian and the the commander. "You can taste the tension," he joked lightly. That was enough to get Shepard to pull away from the other, only then noticing their close proximity.
"If you so much as cough..." Shepard threatened.
Garrus readied his shotgun and gave her a low chuckle. "I'm guessing you'll make sure it's not the plague that kills me?"
Shepard couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter. "You bet your suicidal ass, Vakarian."
Shepard was never quite sure how she was able to stomach some of the things she'd seen over her years as a member of the Alliance. It could have been the first time she'd been assigned on a mission and her the soldier next to her had been turned to swiss cheese. It could have been Akuze, where the loss of her troops had put a lot in perspective. It could have been a lot of things.
So when the smell of roasting flesh hit her nostrils, she barely gagged.
Two mercenaries, batarian by the looks of them, had just been taken down. Shepard had killed one with a shot to the head, and Jacob with one through the throat.
Jacob took a look around, and gave a low whistle. "Burning corpses," he said softly. "Trying to keep the plague form spreading." The sadness in his voice shocked Shepard. These were aliens burning, not people. Cerberus couldn't care less about them. Perhaps there was still some Alliance left in him.
Garrus sighed. "At some point in my life, I got used to the smell of burning bodies...that's probably bad."
She always found it eerie how he could echo her thoughts so accurately. "Probably," was all she said.
A door was across the walkway, and was open. They would start here and look for survivors, looters, mercs. But when the door opened, it was a storage room. There were piles of junk and power cells. Broken guns on work benches, boxes of various supplies lining the walls, and everything tinted read under the hue of the red-orange glow of the lights. A door was easily hackable to their right.
When it opened, Shepard closed her eyes in grief and flinched as she heard Garrus take a sharp breath. She knew this was a bad idea, taking him here. Exposing him to the effects of this strange cross-species plague.
"Scratch marks," Jacob said softly, keeling over one of the bodies. "Must've tried to claw his way out."
"A grim way to die," Garrus breathed.
She felt sick. Where the the burning flesh didn't touch her, the claw marks would. She made her way over to a computer console on the opposite side of the room. There were recordings, an angry coughing turian ranting about the "idiots who could tell the plague from a simple cough" and about his dead friend. About hearing his voice after he'd passed on.
She could feel Garrus's presence behind her. "Still think this was a good idea, Vakarian?"
"Everything dies, Commander," he said formally. "But...probably not like this."
She smiled ruefully. "C'mon," she addressed them both, offering a hand to Jacob and helping him from the ground. "The faster we move, the less chance we have of contracting this...thing. Whatever it is."
They left the room quickly.
Shepard repressed a shudder. Finding dead bodies was never easy. She could still remember the charred, unidentifiable ones on Eden Prime, years ago. Each body had once been a life, and each life had, she assumed, been precious in some way.
A cough roused her from her thoughts. Across the large area, a batarian was on the ground, pressing themselves against the wall. Coughs where wracking his body, and even from their distance, Shepard could see that each limb was struggling to keep them up.
She tucked her gun away and quickly approached the figure.
"Human," he spat in a raspy voice. "Should have guessed." he coughed painfully and Shepard felt her brow crease in worry. "Bad enough you infect us with this plague. Now you lack the decency to wait until I die before you come to steal my possessions?"
Shepard knelt down so that she was at eye level. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Get away from me human!" the alien shouted with as much strength as he could. In one hand he gripped a gun and kept it pointed at Shepard. She leaned back on her heals and swept her hair off her face. She didn't get up. Whether he wanted it or not, the batarian needed something. "Your kind had done too much already!" His hand lowered itself to the floor, too weak to hold the weapon. "Your plague did this to me. And your feigned pity is the final insult."
Shocked and a bit angry she started to protest but Jacob opened his mouth to defend her. "Humans didn't create this plague. No one know the origin."
"Lies," the batarian rasped. "They drip from your mouth like the blood from my sores."
"Let us help you," Shepard tried away, only to be weakly swatted away. "Please."
"You humans are all the same."
Shepard growled at his stubbornness. "What have you got to lose?"
"The proof it there for all to see!" he moaned, pointing to the flames where bodies roasted. "Your species is the only one that does not succumb to the virus. Yours.." another coughing fit, "and the wretched vorcha." He took a few gasping breaths and attempted to right himself against the wall.
"If you won't let me help you, can you lead me to someone who can?" Shepard asked patiently. "I need to find Mordin Solus."
"Humans looking for the human sympathizer," the baratian growled, his breathing clogged with either phlegm or blood. Shepard winced at the sound. "I hope the vorcha burn Mordin and his clinic to the ground!"
She was about to pull back and give up when he stared speaking again. "I hope you a..." a heavy cough, "I hope -" and then another bought of painful coughing over took him. "Dammit," he moaned. "Damn you -"
Shepard would have let his tirade continue if it weren't for the face that he was dying in front of her. Quick as she was able, she administered as much medigel as she felt he would need. "Hey, stay with me!" she told him, trying to hide the frantic note in her voice. "This won't cure the plague, but it might help a bit," she told him hopefully.
Slowly, he moved to his feet, Shepard helping him when he stumbled. All four eyes looked shocked. "You...you helped me.." She smiled tentatively. "Why?"
"It's what I do." Lately it seemed like thats all she did. "I don't know if I can find a cure for this plague, but I'm gonna try."
The batarian spoke hesitantly. "Your...words. They...they sound sincere." He gave a lighter cough and shook his head. "Maybe it's the fever. But as you said, what have I got to lose?" He gave a single heavy cough. "What do you wish to know?"
Shepard frowned and shook her head. Honestly, she could have just walked around wildly. The batarian needed to rest. He needed a cure. "When I find Mordin, I'l tell him about you." She rested an easy hand on the other shoulder. "If he has a cure, I'll make sure someone gets it to you." And with that, she guided him back to a seated position.
"Thank you," he murmured. "My time is running short. But at least you have given me a flicker of hope, to brighten the darkness of my final hours."
Yeah a flicker, Shepard wanted to say. She needed to find the doctor more than ever now. And going in blind because she refused to strain him any further would no doubt bring her in circles.
"I don't want to die. Whatever Mordin is, I will risk it, if he can reach me."
Don't say it Mars, don't make him a promise. "I swear I'll get his people to you." Damn her.
"I should go," she told him softly. "Take deep breaths and try not to move too much. Someone with be here soon."
He spoke a weak thank you and she stood, walking down the wide corridors. Jacob clear his throat.
"Commander? Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"What the hell was that?" Jacob hissed, pulling her to a stop. "You made him a promise that you might not be able to keep. You wasted medigel on him to what, slow down the process of dying?"
She took it back. He didn't have any Alliance in him. He may as well have been rebuilt by Cerberus too, as cold and unfeeling as he was. How could anyone be so cold toward the idea of anthers death like that? She was sure he wouldn't have been complaining if the batarian had been a human. Shepard sighed. "It was a moment of weakness Jacob. Everybody has them. He was dying. What was I supposed to do? Let him die at my feet and raid his body for credits?"
"You could have told him not to hope for the impossible," Jacob ground out.
Shepard had to press her hands to her side and count to ten. If she didn't, she would hit Jacob in the jaw, and that would get them nowhere. The only plus side to is was she would hit him hard enough to shut him up for a few weeks, at the least. "Let's just keep moving and pray then, Jacob, that he does get the cure."
One hacked door, a few turns around corners, and a back alley later, Shepard had begun to feel paranoid with all the silence. All she could hear was the distant crackle of flames. And a few voices over them.
Shepard held her fist up, hearing the halting footsteps of comrades behind her. She took in her surroundings quickly. The room in front of them held tables and chairs much like the ones you'd find outside of local restaurants on the Citadel. Stairs dipped into the area in front of her and she could see clearly the stairs on the other side. A glassless window offered a view to the potted plants and dark corner. It also offered low and effective cover for any other mercs in the vicinity. She too would have the cover of the "window" on her side, albeit her version would have a severe lack of movement. It was too short on the side she was currently on. And if she had to cross to the other side, it left her open at her ten o'clock. The lights here were dull, and cast more shadow than light. Again, an advantage and a disadvantage. Maybe they don't see her, but she doesn't see them either.
Next to the stairs was a platformed barricade. Two mercenaries - human, blue suns, both male, - chatted at low volume. The cover they had created out of what seemed to be already-put-in high metal walls, a few chairs, and large shipping boxes, though those may have just been holding extra ammo.
There were stairs behind her, hidden in the shadows save for the first for steps bathed in a dim, yellow light. Garrus would probably take those and set up his snipper. But if she did this right, she'd be done before he could take a shot.
She was still a little wound up from Purgatory. Time to blow off a little steam.
Her first shot echoed through the quiet and hung in the air. The first man fell. The second man began shooting, hitting dangerously close to her head. Jacob dove for cover, and she could hear, as she had suspected, Garrus moving up the stairs.
Neither would get the shot.
She ran out of cover boldly, her M-3 making two staccato bangs that rendered her first opponent lifeless. The next was aimed at a man in the doorway. This time, since he was closer, she bent low and kicked his legs out from under him. Her omnitool blade came out and she pierced his throat with no hesitation. The next went to hit her.
Excellent.
Block left. Block right. Duck, right. One blow to the face, but she smiled and struck with her left to his stomach. As he doubled over, she tackled him back. Though he fell, he'd quickly regained his composer and had no trouble turing the tides and pinned her to the ground. He reined punch after punch. All fun and games until he pulled a knife.
She grabbed his wrist and, with the strength of her training and, possibly, her new cybernetics that were holding her together, she forced his arm back and away from her face. She brought her head to connect with his, and when all he made was a guttural groan, she bashed her skull against his once more. He leaned back enough for her to kick him off and stand while he clutched his head in agony. A blow from her foot to his face that broke his neck.
Another merc rushed at her and she kicked out at his knee, breaking it and earning a scream in return. Shepard caught the other by the helmet as he fell forward with both hands and twisted. She picked up her gun that lay a few feet away and shot the next in the head. The one that followed in the arm and then dropped to the ground as he swung a would-have-been nasty right hook. From the way he doubled over in agony and dropped his gun, she'd say her foot had done a great job of being nasty right back.
The man fell to the ground, winded, and tried not to make the childish motion to grab his crotch in absolute aguish. He instead grabbed her leg and dragged her down. For a moment, when her head connected with the ground and she tasted blood, she regretted barreling into the fight. But only for a moment. She brought her omiblade out and went for just under the jaw, for a shot to the brain. But he shover her hand down and pinned it with his knee. To her torment, he shoved a knife through the other hand and kept in pinned away from her body.
Her eyes pricked with tears of pain as she cried out. Then hands were around her neck and black spots were already clouding her vision. She cried out horsely and thrashed underneath him, kicking out her legs and trying to push him off.
So, maybe a little regret after all.
Come on, Garrus, take a shot, she plead as she fought. If Jacob was preoccupied, which she was sure he was, Vakarian would have to shoot him.
Her mind was shutting down. Thrashing slowing to weak squirms. Her vision was spotting more and more. Take the shot, Garrus. Find him and take the shot. Her mind barely formed the thought, now only wanting for oxygen. She mistakenly jerked her left hand for a grab at the mans wrist, but even the minimal movement sent an angry pain up to through her arm. Her mouth opened wide, but all she could do was silently gape in agony.
And then the weight was gone, hands jerking back with and unnatural quickness. She coughed and gasped and gagged, curling into her left side as she allowed oxygen to flow back into her body.
Thank God she had brought Garrus. Even with the risk of infection in her friend, the fact he'd come through had proven she'd been wrong about leaving him back aboard the Normandy.
Once she could move a bit more, she sucked in a breath and yanked out the knife. Shit, did that hurt!
"Fuck me," she gasped out. She tried not the let the pain show by focusing on the coppery taste in her mouth, and looked to where Garrus was perched.
Slack-jawed and angry.
Twice now she'd run into a fight, both of which could have gotten her killed. One that almost had. Had the situations been reversed, she'd be pissed at Garrus too. Her decision had been rookie one, one that she'd reprimand those once under her command for on a daily basis. He reserved the right to be pissed. Though the emotion seemed reserved for her and her alone theses days.
"Holy shit." That was Jacob's voice, and instead of angry, he sounded amazed. "Damn." He wore a half smile on his face, and despite the throbbing in her head, she smiled back darkly.
"I know," Shepard said hoarsely, bringing herself to her feet.
"That was a stupidest thing I think I've ever seen you do, Commander," Jacob praised with a shake of his head. "But you moved so damn fast, I can't help but be a little impressed."
She her smile fell for an instant as she recalled the abnormal strength in her legs. Not that she couldn't break someone's neck - her N7 training had taught her better than that - but the head had snapped back at such a dramatic angle. In the mix of gunfire and adrenaline, she could only marvel on the power behind each hit. But now she was a bit concerned. Was it implants that had done this or her own ruthlessness?
She wasn't given time to speculate on it, however, because Garrus entered her line of vision. His brow was pinched and his mandibles twitted around his frowning mouth. He walked toward them, but she noticed that his eyes were trained elsewhere, something internal that he was focusing on. As he neared, she almost could see the pallor of his plated skin. If she didn't know better, she'd say he looked...sick.
They stared at each other for a full minute before Garrus move to wave his onmitool over her. The release of medigel and sudden lack of pain made her smile at the turian. She could feel her hand partially close, now only a deep cut instead of a hole. "Thank you." She raised a teasing eye brow. "So you suddenly decided to not be pissed at me?"
Garrus gave a light chuckle. "I have to admit, it was was harder than it looked. I was torn between either being pissed with you for being stupid in combat yet again - and that is really a bad habit Shepard. You were better than that - and being very, very impressed that you still aren't lacking for hand-to-hand combat skills, at least. Fortunately for you, I chose the latter."
"At least?" Shepard inquired."I don't know, my skills with a snipper are almost artistic."
Garrus tilted his head to the side as if considering this, then shook it and shrugged. "I'll put it in a 'human reference.' You may be Van Gogh, but I am Michelangelo."
Shepard's eyed widened at the very human, and very old reference. "Starry Night is a classic," Shepard defended jokingly.
"But I am told The 16th Chapel is a masterpiece," he retorted, tongue-in-cheek. He was smiling with the good half of his face.
This time Shepard laughed fully, throwing a hand over her mouth to muffle it. "Did I ever say how much I missed you on missions?" she said between her fingers, covering her smile.
"Well, you could stand to," he paused to clear his throat, "you could stand to mention it a little more."
"Uh, hey, love birds," Jacob said, very effectively bringing the two out of their banter. "I don't mean to interrupt, but you can canoodle after we've found the professor."
Garrus cleared his throat again, and Shepard rolled her eyes. She nodded her head toward Jacob. "When you're right, you're right Jacob."
"Are you okay?" she asked after they had started moving again, more slowly than before now. Garrus had that distant look back in his eyes, and he seemed to be surprising a cough...
Oh shit.
No answer. She waver her uniformed hand in front of his face. "Vakarian, are you still with us?" she barked, snapping her fingers a few times.
"Hmm?" was all he said in response. He looked down at her and seemed to almost flinch, but caught himself. "What? I'm sorry, Commander. I was elsewhere."
He was a good liar. She could tell by the way he would clear his throat as the silence stretched on that he was fighting the urge not to cough. The plague was starting to take effect.
Damn it all, she should have told him to stay away from those bodies.
All she could do now was hope that the clinic wasn't too far off from this point.
Fucking Vorcha. If Shepard never saw one again, it would be too soon.
Garrus had just takes the last of them out with his snipper and was now leaning, dangerously fatigued, against the pillar next to the stairs. After Shepard had promised to clear the way to the clinic to a couple hiding away from the gang activity, a few Blue Suns and Blood Pack members had swarmed the team from below. While Garrus snipped them from above, Jacob and Shepard had been in charge of guarding the stairs.
Jacob and Shepard had barely exited the room near the end of the hall. Some worthless human men were looting a deceased turnian's house.
"Better us than them," Shepard couldn't stop thinking about the cur's words. Just because there was someone worse who could be there didn't make their excuses any less full of shit. Where was there sense of humanity? She shook her head, trying to cast out the small bit of anger she'd allowed herself.
"I don't get it," Jacob grumbled as they made their way toward the stairs. "Cerberus fights for all humans, because our core belief is based around what we could accomplish." He glared over his shoulder. "I can't believe that includes them."
Shepard snorted. A little hypocritical, considering he'd all but told Shepard she should have let a sick batarian die at her feet. "Respect for the dead isn't one of the main concerns when crisis is involved. You're a soldier Jacob, you should know that."
Jacob gave her a small frown. "You're still mad about the batarian aren't you?"
"Only because they were robbing a turian's house and you had a problem with that."
"He died," Jacob insisted. "The batarian wasn't dead."
Shepard sighed as they started up the stairs to meet Garrus. "I understand what you'd meant, about saving him," she said honestly. "But my not helping him would make me no better than the humans down there."
Jacob shrugged. "I won't argue with you. I just don't like the idea of giving anything false hope. If there isn't a cure ready, he's only going to die later, Shepard, and guess who's face he'll be cursing?"
They neared the top on the stairs and the commander stayed quiet. Garrus was slumped against the pillar, eyes closed, sniper clutched close to his side.
"Garrus?" Shepard asked, exchanging a wary glance with Jacob. She'd known that he'd contracted the plague by the look in his eyes and the small, suppressed coughs he poorly disguised as clearing his throat.
"I'm fine," Garrus said, getting to his feet. He let out an annoyed breath. "It's just weird. Is it just me, or is it really hot in here? Because it's really-" Whatever he had been planning to say had been cut off by a violent fit of coughs that he couldn't seem to suppress quickly enough. As soon had he could catch his breath, Shepard saw the shock in his eyes. "Oh no. That...can't be good."
"Figures," Jacob mumbled. "Shepard was right, you did get it." He started down the stairs, and made a nod toward the far right corner of the room. "A few looters said the cliic was this way. As the Commander said, let's pray that this salarian has a cure ready to go."
They made their way down the stairs, Jacob taking the lead and Shepard pulling up at the rear.
"So are you going to say I told you so, or do I have to come out and say you were right? Because I have to say, doing the latter seems like a punishment." Even in his darkest hour, Shepard was sure his pessimistic sense of humor would remain.
"To quote a certain turian, it's harder than it looks, really, to do either option. But in the end, had I not brought you, I might be dead."
"Had you not brought me, I wouldn't be dying," he retorted.
"Are turians always this depressing?" Jacob asked.
"No, not really," Shepard answered, at the same time Garrus said, "Mostly, yes."
"It's your own fault Vakarian," Shepard chided. "Next time I say 'go to the Normandy, Garrus,' you should listen to me."
"I couldn't help it," Garrus told her with a shrug. They were descending the stairs and following glowing neon that read "CLINIC" with a matching arrow that pointed them in the correct direction. "I live for arguing with my superiors, you know that. Besides," he started, stopping once to give a small cough, "I haven't had a face to face argument with you in two years."
"Shut it, Vakarian," Shepard growled.
"You still can't say no to me," he mused. "Some things never change, even in death."
Jacob snorted. "All part of that turian charm, right Vakarian?"
Shepard stalked ahead. "Very funny. If this were any other circumstance, I'd shoot you both for insubordination." A vicious lie, they all knew, and all said while fighting a small smile. They neared the clinic entrance, passing by a few people and a few mecs behind counters. She could hear the two mumbling something about how easy it was to spark her temper and something about it being "irresistibly fun" when it came to pushing her buttons.
As soon as the clinic door opened, Shepard immediately felt a pang in her chest. There were people everywhere, some softly talking, some pacing with worried looks on their faces. A few, healthy-looking patients, including a turian one, sat on the couches, seeming nothing more than worn down. Hopefully that meant that they were cured. That there was a cure.
"Professor," a young man's voice called, "we're running low on.." and then mumbled something she could't really hear.
And then she heard possibly the sweetest sound in the world. The voice was slightly higher pitched in the way most male salarian's were. "Use.." a few mumbled words, she assumed giving the younger voice directions. "Almost as good." She heard him mutter something else, and quickly marched down the halls toward the banter, minding the patients that were still mulling around their.
Salarians have a very distinct look to them, which makes spotting those of the species easy. Their long faces and strange inverted torsos create a hunched over, somber look, which is odd given the lively attitudes of the ones she had met. They had large, dark, bug eyes as well, another distinct and, to some, disturbing feature. They had two thick antennae - at least, that's what Shepard mentally referred to them as, since there wasn't really another word - on top of their heads. Though this particular salarian had one and a half, the right one seeming to have been severed many years ago. There were lines on the professors face, suggesting age and decades of frowning. She knew those frown lines too well, and suddenly everything said about the salarian doctor made much more sense.
At one point, he'd most likely been a soldier.
"Professor Mordin Solus?" Shepard addressed, though it came out more of a question.
The professor faced her immediately, and took a few steps closer and scanned her with his omnitool.
And then he was off. "Don't recognize you from area. Too well-armed to be refugees, no mercenary uniform. Quarantine still in effect..." he turned and typed something into a computer. "Here for something else? Vorcha? Crew to clean them out? Unlikely. Vorcha a symptom, not a cause." He turned back to his work. "The plague! Investigated possible use as a bioweapon! No. No, no, too many guns, not enough data equipment. Soldiers, not scientists. Yes, yes!"
The alien could talk. Normally with somebody who was rambling that fast, Shepard would have shut them up and asked them to slow it down, but Mordin? Damn. The guy was two fast for her to even get a word in. Not that she wanted to. It was normal deduction, but his mouth moved as fast as the brain did, and it was interesting. Though she hadn't wanted to, Shepard knew she'd have to cut him off if she wanted to get anything accomplished in a timely manor.
"Hired guns? Maybe-"
"Relax, Mordin," Shepard said, waving off his words. "I'm commander Shepard, and I've come here to find you." She paused, already seeing doubt in his eyes. "I'm on a critical mission and I need your help."
"Mission? What mission? No, no no no, to busy, clinic understaffed. Plague spreading too fast!" Then a pause as he bent down to search for something. "Who sent you?" The question was muffled.
"Er.." Well, this was something she'd hoped to avoid. Though Garrus wasn't any closer to loving Cerberus than she was, they had worked together before; he'd follow her into the pits of hell, and she'd do the same had their situations been reversed. But Mordin? As far as anyone knew, he was as against Cerberus as she was if not more so, and would refuse to join. What was she supposed to do then? "It's a...covert and...privately funded human group," she told the other, stumbling over the words. She stepped a bit closer.
"Related to plague?" he asked, popping back up so fast and fluidly, Shepard reared back a bit. "Doesn't affect humans," and shake of his head, and then turning away. "Humans have no interest. Few human groups would know me." And then he was on the machines again, typing something in. She wasn't clear whether he was talking in broken English because he was thinking, if her translator had some sort of glitch she'd have to fix later. "Equipment suggest military origin. Not Alliance, standard. Specters! Not human, no no no, too unstable. Only one option." He face Shepard, and there was genuine surprise lighting up his face. "Cerberus sent you." His surprise turned to suspicion in the form of squinted black orbs in an instant. "Unexpected."
Damn, he was good. Call intuition, call it madness, but Shepard liked the salarian already.
"Well, color me impressed," Shepard told him honestly. "You're very well informed. How did a salarian scientist hear about Cerberus?"
"Crossed paths on occasion," he responded and gave a neutral shrug. "Thought they only work with humans? Why would they request Salarian aid?"
"The Collectors are kidnapping entire human populations," Shepard explained. Which was, in truth, the real reason Shepard was forced under the Illusive Man's thumb. The Collectors were supposed to be a myth, up until a week or so ago, when she'd woken up. Or at least a very, very, rare sight, seeing as they operated around the pirate end of space, and even then, they rarely came about in news or on the extranet. Shepard had her suspicions about the Reapers being involved, but so far, there was only a vague connection. Either way, families were being taken from colony after colony, and Cerberus help or not, Shepard would see it's end. "We're going to find out why and stop them."
"Collectors? Interesting!" he brought his hand into his chin, contemplating again. "Plague hitting these slums is engineered. Collectors one of few groups who have technology to design it. Our goals may me similar."
Shepard nodded, prompting him to continue.
"But! Must stop plague first."
That reminded her. She turned to Garrus, who was leaning against the wall, looking at Mordin with a curious look in his eyes. "My friend actually-"
Before she could say anything else, Mordin's omnitool appeared around his arm, and he transferred something toward Garrus. "Should cure in all stages of plague," she heard him mumble before turing away to type something.
"Did that work?" She heard Jacob ask.
Garrus was quiet for a moment, and she could hear his even breathing. "I'm almost confident that it did."
Shepard eyed Mordin curiously as he continued to talk. "Already have a cure, as you have seen. Need to distribute it at environment control center. Vorcha guarding it." A quick pause. "Need to kill them."
Why couldn't it just be something simple? "Ill get in and deal with the vorcha. Is there anyt-" she was about to ask if there was anything else that needed to be done, but just then, the lights around them powered down, as did everything else, with a low and mechanical sigh. A few exposed wires and pipes of the ceiling leaked some sort of gas. Shepard could only guess it was oxygen.
Behind her, Jacob and Garrus were looking around as well, as if trying to see if the source was in the immediate area. "That sounded bad," Garrus muttered.
"Vorcha have shut down environmental systems. Trying to kill everyone. Need to get power back of before district suffocates," Mordin spoke a bit quicker, panicked, glancing at his omnitool. Shepard's eyes widened, and then darkened again. Damn the vorcha. What the hell was their problem? Sure she'd met some asshole species in her time, hell she'd dealt with the Council, but these pests were pulling ahead for first place today.
"What can I do?" Shepard asked.
"Here," Mordin said, offering her something akin to a vile. "Take plague cure." And then he offered her a gun. "Also, bonus in good faith. Weapon from dead Blue Suns merc. May come in handy against vorcha."
Shepard stared at the heavy pistol. An M-6 Carnifex Hand Cannon could really pack a punch to any species. It was pretty useful, she had to admit. Which is why she couldn't quite accept it. "Are you sure? Now that the vorcha think they have the upper hand, they might try to swarm the clinic. If that happens, I need to know that you're well equipped to defend yourself, professor."
Mordin shook his head. "No time. Have mechs ready to shoot. A few hidden guns too, if necessary. Wasn't always a doctor. Some work with salarain special task group." He gave her a knowing look, and actually raised an invisible eyebrow at her. "Can handle myself. Have the advantage. Turian, krogen, vorcha, all obvious threats. Never see me coming."
Shepard gave him a nod, fighting a laugh. She'd figured as much. Tougher than he looked. She removed her own M-3 and placed it on the workbench, keeping the gift by her side. It wasn't much, but it was loaded and within reach. "Just in case they're too hidden, then," she told him with a genuine smile.
Mordin offered her a shocked and relieved smile. "One more thing then; Daniel. One of my assistants. Went into vorcha territory. Looking for victims." He took a deep breath. "Hasn't come back..."
"Do you have any idea where can we find him?"
Mordin shook his head. "No! Heard of infected batarians trapped behind vorcha lines. Daniel went to help." He looked away. "Warned him not to go, too dangerous. Patients here need him. Snuck out anyway. Wanted to find him myself." Frustrated, now. "Can't leave the clinic Have to look after the patients."
Shepard nodded. She was about answer him, but Jacob beat her to the punch. "If we see him, we'll do what we can to help, professor."
"Thank you," Mordin breathed, relieved. "Warned him not to go. But he's smart. Bright future. A help."
Help...
"If you could help me out with one favor though?" Shepard asked hesitantly.
"Listening."
"I found a batarian plague victim near the entrance to the neighborhood. Could you send someone to help him?"
"Hm. Risky. Blues Suns and Vorcha still battling. District not secure..."
"Please." This was Jacob again. Shepard turned to him with wide eyes at the amount of honesty in his tone.
"See what I can do," Mordin told him with a nod.
"Thank you, Mordin." She turned toward the other two. fully now. "Let's head for the environmental plant."
As soon at they had walked out of earshot, Shepard turned to Jacob. "What was that?" she asked.
Jacob shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not sure. He had a cure though, so there really wasn't a reason not to ask for his help. And an assistant is to a doctor what a soldier is to their commander. You know that."
Shepard gave him a wide smile. "'Now I know I have a heart, for it's aching,'" she teased, quoting the twentieth century human-made vid. "Should we give you the code name Tinman?"
Jacob opened the door to exit the clinic, and slid her a glare. "Only if we get to call you Dorothy."
"Hello, yes, turian here. Hi, nice to meet you, humans." Shepard turned to Garrus, who, if the deep frown and slightly pulled together brow was anything to go by, was agitated. At least he was back to normal.
"I'll explain it on the way."
"Krogan on your left!" Shepard shouted over to Jacob from her cover. She peaked over her cover and shot a vorcha was what descending the stairs.
"Got it!"
"Anyway, the good witch tells her to click her heels together and chant, 'there's no place like home' and she wakes up in her bed. It's a really old vid, by human standards." She took aim with her new M-6 and shot at another vorcha who was a little too close to Garrus's body. For the passed few minutes, the three of them had been shooting at Blood Pack members and discussing the old vid "The Wizard of Oz" , which Garrus did not seem to understand.
"Chanting? Teleportation? That sounds a bit cultish, by anyone's standards."
"It wasn't really a chant so much as it was a...I don't know, a spell?" Jacob shouted over a krogan war cry, and stuck the opponent with the back of his shotgun. Shepard took aim and shot the krogan twice in the head before he had time to recover.
"Spell seems about right," Shepard agreed. "And she didn't 'teleport'. She woke up."
Garrus took down two vorcha before responding. "Humans have the weirdest fantasies. Magic shoes? Melting people with water?" He shook his head and chuckled. "Sometimes i think it's a wonder your kind had the ability to make first contact, let alone survive it."
"Alright, settle it down now. You asked for an explanation and we gave it to you," Shepard said.
"I can't believe you're complaining," a pause that came from Jacob as he clear the final vorcha out of the way, "when your race had a hand in producing Fleet and Flotilla."
While reloading, Shepard shushed Jacob.
Garrus rolled his eyes and reloaded his gun. With Shepard in the lead, now they were all making their way toward a flight of stairs in the back of the room. "That vid doesn't even come close to the amount of absurdity that your human vids seem to carry."
Shepard spun on her heal to face them. "I hate to interrupt, but now that the fight is over, I really don't think we should debate which race has had more cinematic masterpieces. We have more pressing matters to attend to." She turned back toward the stairs.
And nearly ran into a bullet which was aimed slightly to the left of her head and instead embedded itself into a pillar, which she quickly ducked behind.
A krogen and three vorcha were slowly making their way down the stairs, despite the spray off bullets they the trio rained upon them. The vorcha, as it were, wouldn't be a problem. It was the krogan warlord that shot blast after blast at them that would be a problem. He had to go.
Just as she was about to storm into battle, three taloned fingers held her in place. "You run out there to play hero again, and I will kill you myself, Shepard."
"Mind your mouth and your own business, Garrus," Shepard growled, shaking him off violently and finally taking down one of the vorcha. "Besides, death wasn't so bad."
Garrus gave a low growl and ducked out of cover to take out the closest vorcha. "Forgive the insubordination, Commander," he spit the word out and Shepard shot him a hateful stare. "But my opinion stands as this; running out into the field is a rash move, and the Alliance taught you better."
Shepard shot his shields. Jacob had taken out the third vorcha and had gotten lucky with a headshot to he krogan. The fight was over.
Garrus gapped at her.
"Forgiveness for your insubordination is being considered. I'm almost positive C-Sec trained you better. Be thankful I don't send your mission reports back to them, Archangel." Garrus flinched, and Shepard holstered her gun.
They made their way up the next several flights of stairs in silence. The dim red-hued lighting was making it harder to see anything that may be lurking in the corner. The quiet sound of footsteps was the only thing that made any noise. When they finally did come to a clearing, there was an open door to her left.
As soo as she opened it, Shepard drew her pistol again. Three batarians and a human were the occupants. One of the batarians, presumably the leader, was holding the human by the front of his shirt and pulling his close to his face. The kid could't have been more that twenty six. This had to be the infamous Daniel.
"I'm telling you the truth!" the human said pleadingly, "I work with Mordin at the clinic! I came here to help you!"
"We know you're spreading the plague virus," the batarian spat. "We saw the bottles in your bag!"
"No, those vials contain the cure! Please, you have to believe me."
"Maybe we should cut off your fingers. That should loosen your-"
Shepard had seen enough. She held her gun in front of her and marched in. One of the batarians shouted a warning, and pulled his gun. The other did the same. The leader looked over his shoulder, met Shepard's eyes, and shoved the kid away from him, training a gun on his person so fast Shepard barely saw the motion.
"One more step and we kill your friend."
She eyed Daniel before speaking. His hands were up, eyes closed, and mouth drawn into a thin line.
"I know you're scared," Shepard said, addressing both species before she turned to the leader. "Of the vorcha. Of the plague. But this man isn't to blame. If he was spreading the virus," she said as gently as she could, "why would he come into vorcha territory? They're immune."
"She's right," one of the batarians said, turing toward the other. "It doesn't make any sense."
He grunted. "If we release the prisoner, we can go?"
"You have my word on it." And they did.
The batarian withdrew his gun."Let him go." The others stepped down and Daniel relaxed a bit. "You got what you wanted human. Are we free to go?"
She should pull the trigger. There was no telling what trouble they'd get into if she let them leave. But she wasn't the type of person to go back on their word. Shepard nodded and straightened up, putting her gun away. "We had a deal."
The batarian's for eyes widened a bit in shock and approval. "Human nobility. I didn't know such a thing existed." And with that, they left.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Daniel began to speak.
"Thank you," he stuttered out. "I thought they were gonna...gonna kill me. Did...Mordin send you to find me?"
Shepard's face softened a bit. "Yes. The professor could use your help right now. He's got too many patients and not enough volunteers. They path way is fast, and it's cleared for the moment. You should get back."
"Yeah...okay." He gave her a small, genuine smile. "I'll head back right away. Thanks again. I..." he paused and looked away. "I owe you...well, everything."
Shepard shook her head. "Get to the clinic and stay safe, Daniel. Don't worry about it."
He scurried off with nothing else but a nod. Poor kid. Had they few second later and Shepard wasn't sure "a bit shaken up" would do as a valid description of the kid's mental state.
Gunfire. Steam. Smoke. The smell of flames. The quake of rockets and grenades shaking the ground. The room was filled with Blood Pack members, mostly Vorcha. The room was open, and littered with boxes, furniture, plants, and the occasional pillar that supported the architecture. And Shepard could not get a clear shot.
She'd tried her shot gun, her pistol, and even the grenade launcher, though she saved a few shots from that for anything bigger that they found. The only other option was her Widow, and even now, set up at the edge of the balcony, she couldn't so much as peak her head over her cover without a bullet whizzing passed her ear. Her shields were taken down way too often, and as of that moment, she had none.
Jacob was having the same problem, as was Garrus. No one could get a clear shot with a swarm like this. Especially with the damned rocket launchers.
Shepard had her back agains the cold metal cover when she saw a vorcha peek its head into view, it's gun pointed at Garrus.
Maybe it was her way of apologizing, maybe it was because she was fed up with vorcha, or maybe it was purely instinct, but Shepard stood up, pulled out her pistol ,and sank two shots into the aliens head. It fell back and out of view with a screech.
"Shepard, get down!"
She dropped back into cover, watching as a rocket flew over her head and crashed farther away. She turned to Garrus, wide eyed. "Thanks."
He nodded. "Call it a truce, and an apology."
"Never mind the dramatics. We're going to have to charge down their. If we want to stop coming under such heavy fire and take out that idiot with the rocket launcher."
"I'm with you on that," Garrus said. "Jacob, do you think you can cover Shepard?"
Jacob nodded. "Depends; are you gonna waste the asshole with the rocket launcher?"
Garrus's answering smile was as positive as it was dark. Without any other words, Shepard and Jacob ran into the hellish fight below.
"I really hate vorcha."
"Jacob, after today I couldn't agree with you more," Shepard grumbled. They'd taken the last of the swarm out and were currently picking there was across vorcha corpses to make it back to doctor Solus's clinic. The creatures had made a deal with the Collectors to spread the plague. Something about the vorcha becoming stronger. Words of resentment about the doctor. More unanswered questions, nothing too unusual. They'd taken down so many Shepard had run out of rounds and was forced to rely on the limited cover Garrus and Jacob could give her.
They'd turned on the fans, of course, and made sure the cure was pumped through the systems and spread throughout the district.
Right now, Jacob was sporting a bruise on his cheek, and a slight limp. He was also favoring his left arm toward the end of the fight. Garrus looked like he was about to drop from exhaustion, fatigue no doubt from engaging in a full-on fire fight and contracting a plague only three days after being shot with a missile. Shepard herself had scratches and bruises like every normal fight. She could feel the already healing bruises on her neck, and the painful stretch of the wound in her hand. If Omega hadn't been plagued by vorcha dying from disease and digging for scraps in its back alleys, Shepard would feel no pity for the species.
The walk back was a quiet one. That was probably a good sign. Nothing too traumatic to send either of the men into shock, and nothing news worthy either. All too soon, they were stepping back into Mordin Solus's office.
"Environmental Systems engaged. Airborne viral levels dropping, patients are improving, vorcha retreating...well done, Shepard." As he was speaking, the salarain was flitting about, typing on one thing, adjusting something on other screen a few feet behind him. "Thank you."
"A-and thank you for me as well." This came from the kid, Daniel. "Those batarians would have killed me." He scratched the back of his neck. "For a second there, I thought you were going to shoot them."
Shepard shrugged. "So did I, kid. But I made a promise to spare them if they let you go. I try to honor my promises."
"Merciful of you. Risky," Mordin said with a serious look on his face. "Would have killed them myself."
"Professor how can you say that? You're a doctor! You're supposed to help people!" Poor kid hadn't seen enough people die, or nearly enough action. Behind her, Shepard even thought she heard Garrus chuckle at the absurdity of Daniel's statement.
"Lot's of ways to help people," Mordin countered. "Sometimes, heal patients. Sometimes, execute bad people. Either way helps."
He was right. It was a miserable reality; sometimes you have to take a few people out of the world to make it brighter. It's not an excuse, but one gets used to it.
Mordin nodded to Daniel. "Go check on the patients," he told him in a kinder voice. "Lots of work to do. Think about what I said."
Daniel narrowed his eyes a bit, but did as the professor instructed. Shepard raised an eyebrow at Mordin as soon as Daniel was gone. In return, the salraian gave her an honest smile. "Good kid. Bit naïve. He'll learn. Letting him take over the clinic. Should be able to handle it now that vorcha are gone."
"I wouldn't doubt it. He seems like a smart kid." Shepard paused for a moment. Now the moment of truth. Mordin had said he was letting Daniel take over the clinic. That didn't mean, however, that he'd be so quick to join up with Cerberus. "We've helped cure the plague, as promised. Are you still up for stopping the collectors?"
"Yes!" The answer and enthusiasm was defiantly not what she'd planned. "Unexpected to be working with Cerberus. Many surprises. Just need to finish up at the clinic. Won't take long. Meet you at your ship." He took a deep breath. "Looking forward to it."
Shepard smiled and held out an armored hand, which Mordin shook confidently. "As am I, Mordin. We'll see you back on the Normandy. Welcome aboard."
Shepard was leaning against the wall of the conference room, speaking to EDI about the Normandy's status - a discussion that was interrupted by Joker, via com-system, involving shouting over EDI that he could tell Shepard himself, and insisting that "An AI is not going to do my damned job, Ren." - when Jacob and Mordin walked in. He was welcoming the salarian with a kind voice, and Shepard could see that he was becoming more at ease with the alien.
"It's an honor to have you on board."
"Yes, very exciting!" Mordin told him in rushed excitement. "Cerberus working with aliens." A deep breath. "Unexpected. Illusive man branching out, maybe? Not so human-centric?" He turned his curious gaze to Shepard.
"Illusive Man?" Shepard said, crossing her arms. "Again, professor, I'm impressed. You're very well informed."
Mordin shrugged. "Salarian government well connected. Espionage experts. Had top level clearance once, but retired now. Still...hear things." He shook his head and turned to Jacob who's face had gone from confident and collected to nervous so fast it was almost laughable. "Know name only. No knowledge of man behind it. Anti-alien reputation listed as...problematic."
"Yeah, I have no doubts about that. I know a few humans who have had to watch their backs because of Cerberus before," Shepard murmured. Mordin gave her a knowing, rueful smile. She continued. "It sounds great that Cerberus is working with aliens now, professor, but don't kid yourself. Humans still come first in the Illusive Man's eyes." His freaky, possessive eyes. "This mission is too big for them to handle alone."
"The Collectors are abducting human colonists out on the fringes of Terminus space," Jacob explained.
"Mmh," Mordin said, holding up a finger. "Not simple abductions. Wouldn't need me for simple."
"Entire colonies disappear without a trace, " Jacob continued. Both he and Mordin began pacing. "No distress signals were sent out, there are no signs of any kind of attack. There's virtually no evidence that anything happened there at all. Except that every man, woman, and child are gone."
Wind him up and watch him go. "Gas maybe? No, too slow-"
Shepard held her hands up before he could even start. "You don't have to guess, Mordin. We collected samples from one of the colonies. If you are able, I'd like you to analyze them and figure out how the collectors did this. Please," she tacked on the "please" awkwardly.
"Yes, of course! Analyze the samples." He nodded to Shepard. "Going to need a lab."
"There is a fully equipped lab on the Combat Deck, professor Solus. If you find anything lacking, please place a requisition order." As EDI spoke, Mordin's head looked around the room as if trying to find it's source.
"Who's that, pilot?" Oh, Joker would have a hissy fit if he heard that. "No. Synthesized voice, simulated emotional inflections. Could it b - no...maybe...have to ask. Is that an AI?" The way he said AI sounded different than when Joker or Garrus had said it. Not with hatred or disgust, but with wonder.
"Yes. This ship is equipped with an artificial intelligence. Enhanced Defense Intelligence, or EDI, for short."
"An AI on board. Non-human crew members...Cerberus more desperate than I thought." At that, he looked to Jacob.
"The Collectors have taken tens of thousands of colonists. We will do what ever we have to do to find and stop them." The way he said the words were stiff, formal, and not at all comfortable. It was defiantly something the Illusive Man Had told him.
"Yes, of course. Can't risk being captured like colonists. Need to identify and neutralize technology. Need samples. Which way to the lab?"
"Follow me, professor," Jacob said, saluting Shepard before leading the salarian out the door.
As the door shut, Shepard found herself smiling. It may not be the Alliance, and it certainly was not the same ship, but with with Garrus, Chakwas, Joker, and now Mordin, the ship was starting to feel a little less like a prison.