Disclaimer: Mass Effect does not own to me.
In the light of his pending trial, Shepard announces the Normandy's final port of call. The Citadel. Strengthened by Miranda's firm belief in him, he seems ready to face the consequences of his actions upon Aratoht and his destruction of a mass relay. Tali isn't happy with this, angered over her Captain's warnings being dismissed yet again…
"They should've just listened to Shepard in the first place!" Tali said with a hint of irritation in her voice. "He would've never of had to destroy a whole relay!"
"Tali, they were scared. If you give the Council an alternative to a bad situation, they'll take the alternative." Garrus said, as Tali tapped away angrily at the engine core's console.
"It was blasting the Citadel apart right under their noses! And they thought that it was the Geth?" holding her hands up over the console in disbelief. "Do you know how many Quarians spoke up against the Council, telling them otherwise?"
"I'm guessing it wasn't a small number." he deadpanned.
"I'm serious Garrus." she said, turning to face him and putting her hands on her hips. "You of all people should know how politics can screw everything up!" she exclaimed.
She was right. In his entire life, he hadn't met a politician that he didn't think was a complete ass. Politics just ruined the course of justice, every time. He was stopped by so much political red tape back in his C-Sec days, not to mention being stonewalled even when they were tracking down Saren. Tali was right, he knew exactly how badly politics could screw things up.
"I know. But if you think about it…" propping himself onto a railing, "acknowledging the Reapers would cause so much fear among the people."
"So they just blatantly disregarded us… for the people?" she said, in a confused tone. "What about our preparedness against the Reapers? If there is even a way to prepare against them…"
Garrus's instincts perked up instantly.
Did she get one too? I know it said to keep it to myself, but if I can't share anything with Tali, then what's the point of getting close to her?
His mind floated easily away to it now, a small octagonal device that sat in the box it came in up in the Main Battery room. He couldn't decide what was more intriguing, the device itself, or the message it came with.
To whom it may concern,
This is a communicator, that will convey one message, and one message only. When that message will arrive will depend on the course of your journey. It is in your best interest to keep this to yourself. Be advised that you are not being forced to keep this, but if you want to help stop the Reaper threat, this is your only choice. Should you agree against keeping the communicator, dispose of it in the most discreet way imaginable.
Mortem Increduli.
His first instinct was to crack it open, and try to back-trace the product back to who sent it. Alas, the seamless design offered no way of doing so without breaking it outright. His second instinct was gunned down by the last two sentences of the message. …you are not being forced to keep this… He had never come across a device that was meant to kill him, with such a considerate message attached to it. He was wrong to think that he was the only one to receive it though. In fact, there were three other people on the ship that received similar packages, keeping the same secret from one another, and Tali wasn't one of them. At this very moment however, Garrus was the only one that wasn't pacing curiously around the package like Mordin was. Or turning it over and over in his hand like Jacob was doing. Even if he was with the package, he wouldn't be levitating it in front of him, like Samara. But all four of them had the same amount of curiosity over the mysterious communicator. In fact, Garrus was getting antsy just standing in the engine room with Tali, wanting to go back and examine the communicator one last time.
"Uh… Tali, I'm going to go. I have to go do some… final calibrations on the main gun." he stammered, before leaving her alone.
"Oh, okay. That's fine. It's not like I wanted to talk to you about something anyway…" she mumbled under her breath as he strode out of Engineering.
The elevator ride and walk to the Main Battery took longer than he would've liked. The instant he stepped over the threshold, he keyed in the lock sequence on his omni-tool, shutting himself in. He thought that it was slightly overdoing it, since everybody would be making arrangements for their lives after the Normandy, but with the secrecy that shrouded the communicator, he wanted to be safe.
Out of the corner of his very keen eye, he saw the hard case that it came in, tucked in the back corner of the room, under his weapon bench. Clearing the bench, he retrieved it and placed it on the white metal surface. The box opened like an old turian music box, with the lid splitting down the middle and giving way to the shiny black face of the communicator. He leveraged it out of its foam protective casing, and weighed it in his right hand for the third time since its arrival. It wasn't much heavier than the spanners he used to tweak the guns, and it easily fit into the palm of his claw. The edges were silver, encasing its black glass face. There were no buttons, or signs of soldering. It just had a polished black face, and a silver casing that went all around to the back of the device. Garrus knew the futility of fiddling around with it, so he pushed it back into its box, and slid it away from him. His mind began to dwell on other things. Things that were pushed to the back of his conscious now came rushing at him like a charging krogan. The foremost of which, was what would happen now, after his mission with Shepard was over? Would he go back to training to be a Spectre? Or don his helmet and play vigilante as Archangel again? Even worse, was the thought of his growing relationship with Tali, and how life outside of the Normandy would affect it. He often thought of any kind of intimate relationship with a person harder to maintain than his rifle, and Tali wasn't proving that to be otherwise. Just when he was about to spiral into a endless thought process, a blinking orange light appeared in his vision. At first, he thought it was a message on his omni-tool, but to his joyous surprise, it was the communicator. The message had finally come. His curiosity was about to be fed, and he hoped that he wasn't going to disappointed. He slid the box back in front of him, and tapped the blinking alert with his claw. It instantly lifted itself out of the box, and hovered in the air just inches from his face. Silently, it scanned the room, reminding him of the security protocols put in place at art exhibits on the Citadel. Once it was done, the communicator dropped back into its foam casing. It laid inactive for a few moments, and just as Garrus was about to reach out and grab it, it projected a flat line into the air.
"State your name and planet of origin." the device asked, the line quivering as it spoke.
"Garrus Vakarian. Palaven." he said proudly.
"State the name of the person that betrayed your squad." the voice asked plainly.
His mandibles widened in shock.
This is some serious security tech.
"Lantar Sidonis." he grimaced.
"Voice print acknowledged. Package C safely in intended recipient's possession. Commence transmission."
The flat line gave way to an image of a person that he wasn't expecting at all.
"Garrus," Liara's voice began. "I know it's been a while, but I need you to listen. The Reaper Defence Agency wants you for their work, and I know you're not going to say no to it. " Garrus was about to talk back to the hologram, when it cut him off. "Don't bother talking back, it's a pre-recorded statement." the hologram smirking at his stunned expression. "In the eyes of the Reaper Defence Agency, you have shown considerable skill, namely your work as a C-Sec officer, your training as a Spectre…"
"Incomplete training as a Spectre." uselessly correcting the hologram.
"your work as Archangel, the work you did with Shepard on our mission to stop Saren, and his mission to defeat the Collectors." she listed from a datapad she held in her holographic hand. "After I took over the Shadow Broker's network, I've been working with them, and it was under my recommendation that you should too. Our experience with dealing with Saren places us as one of the few people who have been in combat with Reaper forces. They need people like us to help them, Garrus. This device has already uploaded to your omni-tool the co-ordinates of a rendezvous point for you to be escorted to their nearest base of operations. The agency reminds you that you are in no way being forced into this by them, but as an old friend, I'm asking you to do this as a favour." she said pleadingly. "This is sudden, I know, but you know first-hand the destruction one Reaper ship is capable of. There won't be just one coming Garrus. We need your help. I hope to see you soon, Garrus." she finished.
The recording cut out, and he was left with the image of a broken curved blade, which he recognised as a human sickle. Under the blade, was a motto, written in a language that he had no knowledge of.
Mortem Increduli.
John's terminal was bursting with new messages, all from his crewabout their plans for life after the Normandy. He hadn't requested for these, but he was glad that they all had the decency to do so. Some of these he expected, like Grunt planning to return to Tuchanka, Jack and Zaeed going into freelancer mercenary work, and Tali going back to the Migrant Fleet. Legion's report surprised him however, stating that the geth unit was already gone, using one of the shuttles to track down another heretic base. He would've been outraged at the geth's insubordination, but what would that achieve? What surprised him even more was the cryptic reports that were given by several of his crew members. Despite their different wording, their messages all had the same subtext. That they all did in fact have something planned, but they weren't sharing it with Shepard. The secrecy shrouding Samara and Mordin's futures, he could understand. A justicar's life was veiled in shadows, and the projects that Mordin was known to associate with were higher than highly classified. So, they were understandable. However, Garrus was never one to keep a secret from him, seeing as they had been to hell and back together, twice. His trust in Garrus greatly outweighed his curiosity however, and whatever it was, John knew that the turian was more than capable of handling himself. As for Jacob, he didn't know the man well enough to assume what his plans were. Slivers of distrust still existed for the ex-Cerberus agent though, despite his recent work with Shepard, and his history as a loyal Alliance marine.
"What're you doing?" asked Miranda as she came through his cabin door.
"Nothing. Nothing. Just… looking over the crew's itineraries." he replied to her over his shoulder, his hands tented over his terminal.
"Oh yes, you're welcome for that." she said, almost as if she was boasting. "I knew you were going to need some kind of closure. They are your crew after all." smiling as she stepped down into his lounge area.
"Thanks." he said, picking up the terminal to join her on his lounge. "I didn't know you had it in you to be considerate." he joked.
"To be quite honest, it was more business than pleasure." she admitted. "Regardless of our relationship, I would've asked the crew to do that. It's should be done out of plain respect for our captain."
He simply nodded his heartfelt acknowledgement, and began reading through Jacob's itinerary again.
Commander,
I would like to forward my destination to you, but cannot due to its nature. It wouldn't be right to lie about it to you either, so I'm hoping that this should suffice enough as my itinerary.
Respectfully, Jacob Taylor.
"Something the matter, Shepard?" Miranda asked.
"There's something odd with some of these itineraries. Specifically Jacob's one." angling the terminal to face her as she moved closer to him.
"Hmm. Yes, that does seem suspicious." she said after skimming the message.
"You know him better than I do. He's not one to be secretive to commanding officers is he?"
"Definitely not. This is completely unlike him." she answered. "I'd have to say though, there's not much you can do to get him to confess it. Within reasonable limits, of course." she gave a short pause, and pursed her lips before continuing. "I think you're trying to project your anxiety onto this to prevent thinking about the trial."
It dawned on him that she was speaking the truth. Somehow, she had fished into the depths of his mind, and pulled out the true meaning behind this that was beyond his own mental grasp.
"Dammit. You're right. Not like I expected less from the epitome of perfection herself."
If he didn't know better, John would've sworn he saw her marble white cheeks blushing for just a few moments.
"Despite my genetic enhancements, I'm lost when it comes to taking compliments." she said to herself.
"Really? I always just thought you'd shrug them off and act like you knew they were true already." John said cheekily.
"Okay fine. It's only when you do it." she admitted.
"Oh no. The brilliant Miranda Lawson has a weakness! Someone call the press!" John joked.
"John, I'm serious!" trying to keep her cold business mask on, instead succumbing to the warm smile that was hiding underneath. She lowered her head to defend herself from anymore playful ridicule.
"In all honesty though," taking her by the hand. "I'm glad you're going to be around for my trial. Even if you have to sneak around Alliance security."
"It seemed like a great place to start being a better partner to you. It requires me to use my best talents, while at the same time, giving you some form of moral support." she stated smartly.
"You've thought this whole thing out haven't you?" impressed by her forethought.
"I have to. I'm a meticulous planner, John. You should know that well by now." watching as he gently stroked her hand with his thumb.
"What time is it?" he wondered, and the display on his terminal lit up with a chronometer, displaying Earth-Standard time. "Only a few more minutes till we reach the relay, I should head up to the bridge. I'm sure you have some last minute work you can do." he said with a wink as he got up.
"If you're referring to all those times you came into my office, I actually did have work thank you very much!" calling out to him as he keyed the elevator.
The bridge was the one constant thing aboard the Normandy. No matter what hour it was, John would find Joker either piloting the ship, or snoring loudly in his pilot's throne as EDI had control of the ship. There'd always be such an overwhelming orange glow coming from the various displays and controls, that if it was brightened any further, John would need to shield his eyes every time he came to check up on Joker.
"Ah Commander! We're just about to hit the relay. I thought you'd come by." Joker exclaimed.
Through the ship's forward view ports, he could see the growing intensity of the chilling blue light that emanated from all mass relays in this galaxy.
"Plotting a course to the Citadel relay." Joker announced. "hitting the relay, in 3, 2, 1…"
John gripped the comfortable fabric of Joker's flight chair as the Normandy was propelled through the relay. Almost instantly, the front viewport was filled with the rose-white gas clouds of the Serpent Nebula, speckled with Council ships. The centrepiece of the scene, the Citadel, seemed to rise straight out of the gas clouds themselves, and its five wards held open in an unwelcome embrace.
"So this is it huh? Our final port of call before Earth." Joker mused. "Kinda makes me hate the Citadel even more…"
"I have to pay for my actions, Joker. As much as I don't like it, I do."
"Aye aye, Commander." he mumbled, guiding the ship towards Zakera Ward.
"Citadel Docking control, this is SSV Normandy requesting docking permission."
"Permission granted, Normandy. Proceed to docking cradle B-13."
"Ugh, this is gonna suck." Joker said under his breath.
He found no comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only one to dread the crew's departure.
"All shore-leavers, we are about to dock. Ready your belongings and be ready to leave via the port-side airlock." EDI's disembodied voice rang throughout the ship.
Yeah. This is going to be tough. The Commander thought.
Down in the Executive Officer's Office, Miranda was routinely flicking through her messages. Ever since she'd resigned from Cerberus, her inbox had been less cluttered with official requests and dossiers. Now there was only the occasional reminder from a matchmaking site on the extranet, and updates from her sister, Oriana. She abruptly stood up from her desk to the viewport, admiring the view of the Citadel that lay behind the Normandy's port thrusters. Too many times has she been here on business trips, but she never saw the glamour and elegance that it was advertised to harbour. She saw the gritty underbelly of it, the gang dealings and backdoor genetic labs that ran behind the scenes. The Citadel was nothing but another Omega to her. She folded her arms and shifted her weight onto one foot, and looked up to see Thane pace out of the airlock, trailing behind Garrus and Tali. Her "admiration" of the Citadel view was interrupted by a shrill alert from her terminal. She paced casually back to her desk and tapped a few prompts before opening the message. Miranda's stormy blue eyes widened in fear as she read it. It was only one line, but it pushed her to fall back to her locker, rip it open, and cram her ceramic armour & guns into a black duffle-bag. Hastily, she ran around her room, grabbing everything that she needed and threw them into her bag, among her two Locust SMG's and armour. She forcibly zipped the bag up, threw it over shoulder and ran as fast as she could out of her office, leaving her terminal still powered up, with the message still left on the display.
ALERT. ORIANA LAWSON REPORTED MISSING.
Thanks to the five that reviewed the first chapter. It's a meagre number, but they were helpful regardless.
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