It turned out the restaurant was not too far away. Del decided to walk it, get a better look at the lay of the land around her new apartment.
The residential tower grounded into a vast mall arcade that assailed her with a rainbow of neon and heavy music almost the moment she stepped off the lift. High end casinos, shops, and recreational organizations lined the public walkway, which was a bustle of every species dressed to the nines.
Not your typical Wards neighborhood, she thought. She had put on the nicest shirt she owned- a simple bone colored shirt with cap sleeves- and a pair of slacks. She thought she looked pretty decent, but now looking around, she felt almost self-conscious.
I was worried the restaurant was black-tie. Apparently the whole damn mall is.
Ryuusei was located on the fortieth floor above the mall strip. She had to take another lift onto a level that it shared with two other high end restaurants and a small dance club in order to access it. As she crossed the floor from the lifts and skycar park toward the restaurant, she could see the heavy line of hopefuls corralled between velvet ropes, leading down a wide set of stairs to the restaurant entrance.
In tasteful and rather lovely neon over the line hung the sign for the restaurant, written in Japanese, Galactic, and Asari.
Come to think of it, most of the line is asari, Del noticed as she drew up to the back of the queue. Good. Maybe they'll have some decently spicy-
"Excuse me."
The word was said chill disdain. Still taking in the décor, hands idly tucked in the pockets of her slacks, Del didn't immediately realize the words were directed at her, until they were repeated.
"I said, excuse me."
"Oh, sorry?" she said, her attention focusing on the trio of asari waiting just ahead of her. All three were dressed in elegant gowns, one all but dripping with gemstones. This one was the one who had apparently addressed her. She looked at Del as she might a rather pungent dropping left by a varren.
"You are in the wrong location," the asari said tersely.
"This…isn't the line for Ryuusei?" she asked. The bejeweled asari sniffed sharply and the other two giggled, the sound abruptly cutting off as the elder glanced at them, then back at Del.
"This is the line for Ryuusei, but as you seem to be unaware, there are…standards."
"Standards that I do not apparently meet," Del said neutrally, lifting a brow.
"Listen, dear, I am going to do you a huge favor and keep you from embarrassing yourself," Jewel said, the other two still stifling giggles behind their hands. One leaned over and whispered to her companion softly. Del didn't hear what she said, but the glance she cast at Jewel was interesting. When they noticed Del looking their way, one of them winked.
Del got the distinct impression they were fed up with Jewel, knew exactly who Del was, and were waiting for something monumentally embarrassing to happen.
"I appreciate that," Del said, playing along.
"This place takes reservations, and it only takes reservations from those who are of a particular class, a particular standing," Jewel said haughtily, oblivious of the mocking right behind her back. "From the look of you, you would be far more comfortable in Zakera Wards, or perhaps in the refugee docks."
"It's possible I would," Del agreed calmly, folding her arms. "I take it you are of…particular standing?"
The asari drew up with importance. "I am the daughter of Matriarch Beleznia of House Urita, the wealthiest asari House on Thessia. I own seventy two businesses and my own planet. My House can trace our blood back to the first Houses of the Renaissance."
"Oh really?" Del said, bored.
"I do not expect you to understand," the asari said with a bitter snap. "A homely human who looks like she dragged herself from a slum. I would be surprised if you have more than two credits to rub together for warmth, judging by your incredibly cheap and unfashionable adornment. Let me put this bluntly. This line, this restaurant, and this entire Ward, are for people who matter- not no name, worthless, human refugees. Now. Toddle off back to where you actually belong before I have to call the authorities and have you escorted."
Del was very, very tempted to tell her to do so, but before she could speak, an eager voice with a thick French accent called to her from the head of the line. "Captain? Oh, there you are! Captain Shepard!"
She could tell from the sound the caller was heading her way, so she didn't glance around at him at first. Only as his happy cries got closer did she finally turn her head and look at the beaming maître d'.
"I'm sorry, were you calling for me?" she asked.
"Of course he wasn't, idiot," Jewel said. She was craning her head, looking around. "He was calling for-"
"Oui! Oui, Captain Shepard!" He reached her side, enveloping her hand between his. "Captain, it is such an incredible honor to have you to Ryuusei! We have your table prepared and your party has already arrived. Please, right this way. You do not have to bother with these riff raff."
He indicated the line, all but herding Del down the stairs. Jewel's two companions burst out laughing as she gaped, Del giving her a shrug before following after the animated fellow, who was describing the six kinds of wine they had been sure to set aside just for her.
Behind her, the follow up conversation amid the storm of laughter drifted down.
"Goddess, that wasn't really-"
"Serves you right, Leatta. Honestly! How could you not recognize Captain Shepard?" One said.
"It would help if she noticed anything past her own titles," the other added. "'I own seventy two businesses'…honestly! Here's a hint, Leatta. If you have to tell everyone how important you are…you're not."
The voices faded into the surrounding din as Del and the maître d' reached the restaurant door and stepped inside. Instantly the mouthwatering smell of fresh fish and spices surrounded her in a haze. Huge floor length windows ringing the restaurant offered a spectacular view of the entire Wards, the structure built out of the side of the tower to give it the feeling of being on a balcony. Mood lighting set off the rippling glimmer of an absolutely enormous set of fish tanks that quite literally formed the floor, walls, and ceiling of certain portions of the restaurant. Diners were sitting at tables, indulging their meals and conversation as hundreds of species of beautiful sea life swam lazily right under their feet.
The dining area was portioned off into sections, a bar with a vast array of bottles from all over the galaxy forming one of the 'partitions' between sections. A small stage formed a second, a quartet of musicians playing soft but cheerful music, adding to the atmosphere. As Del glanced over at them to see if they were using real instruments (they weren't, sadly- all HI interface) the saxophone player met her eyes and then smiled, giving her a wink.
"It is right over here, Captain," the maître d' said, gaining her attention again as he gestured toward a table near the windows. The lazy shadows of small bay sharks slipped beneath it as Joker waved at her.
"Thanks," Del said, moving over to take a seat.
"May I get you anything to drink? Anything you would like-your selections are all on the house."
"Oh, that's not necessary-"
"Nonsense! It is the least that can be done for the Hero of the Citadel and her crew! I absolutely insist! We are humbly at your service!"
"That's…very generous of you, thank you," Del said, a bit flustered. "Umm…bottle of pris para?"
"Excellent choice! And for monsieur?"
"Just keep 'em coming," Joker said, gesturing to a glass near his hand that looked to be half-filled with high-end lager.
"Excellent!"
The maître d' hurried away, and Joker grinned at her. "Gee, I didn't realize I knew a rock star."
"Stow it, Jeff," Del said with a faint grin.
"I'm just saying, there are some untapped benefits to being Captain Shepard, apparently. Can't do anything about it, so you might as well kick back and enjoy the royal treatment. I mean, look at that line outside…and we just breezed past."
A waiter arrived with the small bottle of pris para and a glass, depositing them carefully in front of her and opening the bottle. She nodded in thanks.
"Speaking of 'benefits to being Captain Shepard', where's Blue?" Joker asked.
"She had a few things she wanted to finish up," Del said.
"Uh huh. Now suddenly I feel like we're stuck without a referee," he said.
"I'm not going to hurt you Jeff," Del said with a chuckle, taking a sip of her drink. "Well, nothing permanent, anyway."
"Ha ha. Well, if you are going to do something, please just break an arm or a leg. Or my neck. Anything is better than saddling me with that VI of you again."
"Don't tempt me."
"I have to say though, if you are going to kill me you picked a hell of a place for it," he said, looking around and nursing his lager. "I do believe I could die happy here."
Del paused, looking over at him sharply, setting the glass she'd been about to sip from again sharply back on the table. "What?"
"I said you picked a hell of a place for it. I was surprised when I saw the invite. Didn't figure something like this was your speed, then I thought, well, sushi, and…what?"
"Joker, I didn't invite you here," she said. "I'm here because I got a message from you inviting me."
"Uh, I didn't send you a message," he said, blinking. "I didn't even know this place existed until I got a ping on my omni-tool from you. You…you don't think Liara did this? Trying to get us to make nice?"
"I don't think she'd-"
"Captain! Captain Shepard!"
The shout through the restaurant turned more than one curious head as an out of breath figure in an Alliance uniform rushed through, weaving past tables with the harried maître d' behind her.
"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!"
The uniform looked young- if she was a day over her mid-twenties Del would have been shocked. She was also wide-eyed, out of breath, and looked terrified.
"Oh this looks fun," Joker said as the uniform neared their table, panting.
"Mademoiselle! You cannot just-"
"It's ok," Del said, glancing at him. "I'm sure the analyst has a reason for rushing in here. I'll take care of it."
"Captain," the girl said, taking a whooping breath. "Staff Analyst M-…h-how did you know I'm an analyst?" she said, suddenly switching gears from harried to baffled in the space of a single breath.
"I can read uniform insignia and designation, Analyst," Del said slowly, smiling slightly.
"Oh! Oh, of course you…the pips, and…"
She nervously fingered her collar.
"What was your name again?" Del asked.
"Oh! Staff Analyst Maya Brooks ma'am. Sorry ma'am, didn't mean to cause a scene…" she snapped off a salute, still panting, then blurted out far more loudly than she'd intended, "People are trying to kill you!"
Several heads at the surrounding tables turned toward her in surprise. The musicians actually paused a beat in their playing, and for a moment it seemed everyone in the place was staring at her. Brooks colored brightly and seemed to shrink a little. "Uh…ma'am."
"Can we keep her?" Joker asked, looking at Shepard.
"Jeff…."
"What? She's adorable!"
She gave him a sharp look, then regarded the uniform again. "Brooks, you're going to have to be a bit more specific. Are we talking about Cerberus? The Reapers…?"
"What? Oh! Oh, no! Of course those people are trying to kill…I mean, we are at war, it's not like you're…oh bollocks!"
She slapped her hands over her face, took a noticeable breath, then lowered her hands again. "I'm sorry, Captain. This is all outside my experience. I'm really not a total fool, I swear it. Captain, I'm part of the Alliance communication and records team here on the Citadel. I'm here because someone is hacking into your accounts. Alliance personnel records, bank accounts, everything. I would have pinged your omni-tool with this information but apparently they're in that too. Not twenty minutes ago every alert on my board went crazy."
"Are they getting into the Normandy?" Del asked, immediately concerned. "EDI, or the crew-"
"No, the Normandy doesn't seem affected. They're targeting you specifically."
"What makes you think that this means someone's trying to kill me?" Del asked.
"I managed to trace one of the incoming lines and intercept a communication-" she said, then jumped as a voice filled the room, whirling around in apparent mid-air.
The speaker was the saxophone player, the one who had winked at Del when she'd come in. He was talking into the hover mike in front of him, the other three musicians apparently stowing their instruments.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said cheerfully. "Tonight's stellar entertainment is brought to you by Random Acts of Violence!"
His hand swung forward, a machine pistol in his grip, aimed upward. It went off in a roar of bullets and a glut of flame, the sound slamming through the small restaurant. As the other musicians straightened from their instrument cases, they had assault rifles in their hands, their bodies flaring with blue barriers. Instantly the room was filled with screams and shouts, the shattering of dishes and glasses as the startled patrons either abandoned their seats to rush for the door, or dropped down under their tables.
In almost pure reflex, Del half lunged across the table, catching the far end of it and hauling it upward as she dropped back, dropping the table onto its side and making it into cover. Her chair clattered away as she crouched behind it. Joker had awkwardly lunged out of his own chair and was now crouched beside her.
"This is why we can't have nice things," he said. "Why is it you can't go anywhere without guns going off?"
Del ignored him, risking half a glance around the table. Brooks had bolted toward the bar and was now sitting on the floor against it, her already large eyes nearly swallowing her entire face. Some of the patrons were still crouching and hiding and some were still trying to cram in a wave out the door, along with a few of the restaurant staff.
The gunmen were still firing, apparently randomly, aiming at nothing in particular as they kicked over chairs and tables. They seemed more intent on herding people out than actually hurting them, but the sight of more than one unmoving form sprawled on the ground told they were not above slaughtering unarmed people.
More, they were not alone. A door lead from the horseshoe bar area into the back kitchen area of the restaurant. Through it, and through the front, hard-suited figures were appearing, similarly armed. Del didn't recognize their colors.
The musicians didn't have hard-suits on but they did have barriers, and they were now halfway across the restaurant, shooting randomly and pulling people out from under or behind cover, shoving them toward the door and shouting at them. A pair of the hard-suited fellows had crossed the bar and were heading their way, doing the same with patrons and tables in their section. Del glanced around again just as one discovered the terrified Maya. She squealed as he grabbed her, striking her lightly over the temple with his pistol before tightening his grip on her collar and dragging her toward the door. Woozy from the knock, she was weakly struggling.
"I found one," Del heard the merc say, and ducked back again. The other one was still heading slowly their way.
"Just shoot them," Joker said in a low voice. Del's jaw tightened and her cheeks reddened a little.
"Do you have a pistol?" she asked softly.
"I'm a pilot, and I didn't figure I'd need one on shore leave," he said in return, then blinked. "Wait…do you not have a pistol?"
Del colored more, ignoring him to glance around their area. Joker gaped.
"You're unarmed? Are you serious?"
"I'm never unarmed, Joker," she hissed.
"But you don't have a pistol. What are you going to do, flick chopsticks at them? Strangle them with your eyebrows?"
She gripped his wrist, perhaps a tad more sharply than was required, then jerked her chin toward a nearby door. "That service way probably leads into the kitchen," she said. "There's probably a service exit out into the mall. Move carefully. They've likely got comm dampeners but they'll be limited range. As soon as you're clear of the restaurant see if you can't get ahold of the crew or C-Sec, get some damned backup here."
"Yeah, ok," he said. "Is it clear?"
She glanced around the edge of the table, then nodded. "It's clear," she whispered, even though a merc stood less than five feet away. "Go!"
Joker's sudden motion for the door immediately caught the merc's attention, and he turned that way, lifting his weapon and striding forward.
"Hey, you! Stop right...!"
Joker whirled, gaping, and Del surged up. One arm swept around the merc's neck and she used her weight to yank him off balance, dropping them both back behind the table. In the same motion, her omni-blade lit up, sinking into the soft joint between his shoulder pads and helmet. His cry of alarm was reduced to a soft, wet murmur and he was dead weight almost instantly. Lowering him down, Del took his pistol out of his hand.
"You used me as bait?" Joker asked in an angry, loud whisper. Del looked at him, gesturing forcefully at the kitchen door. He turned, heading toward it again. "I can't believe you used me as bait!"
"Yes," Del said softly to herself as Joker vanished into the kitchen. "And now I have a gun. Imagine that."
She risked a look around the table again. Most of the civvies were gone now, though the mercs were still hauling a few of them toward the door. The line outside the restaurant seemed to have vanished, but shouts and cries could still be heard. More mercs appeared to be arriving, a pair hurrying down the stairs toward the restaurant front.
It only has to be a matter of seconds before C-Sec arrives, Del thought. Just have to hold out that long.
Glancing the other way, she saw one of the mercs had Brooks on her feet against the bar. The small of her back was pressed tightly to it, in a position that had to be painful. Her face was pale, a faint line of blood on her temple from where he'd hit her with his gun. He had said pistol in her face and was threatening her. Del could hear him from where she hid.
"Where is she?"
"I-I-I-I don't know who you mean," Brooks stammered, terror in her voice. She sounded like she was about to throw up.
"She was over in the rear section, near the windows," the saxophone player said, striding across the floor of broken glass and gesturing Del's direction. "I told you! Please tell me you covered the kitchen access!"
"Of course we covered the-" he began. He turned toward the saxophonist. As he did, Maya gave him an awkward shove. It didn't do much, just threw him slightly off balance, but that was all Del needed. She fired twice. Her first shot hit the hard-suited merc on the side of the helmet, further knocking him off his balance and sending him careening to the floor. Her second shot hit the saxophonist as he turned, lifting his own gun in her direction. He flailed back at the impact, nearly tripping over a downed patron, before miraculously recovering himself. One of the other mercs nearby rushed forward.
He didn't carry a simple machine pistol but a full on assault rifle. A hail of fire roared down on Shepard, punching into her table/cover like nails through cardboard. She sprinted across the room, aiming for the bar and better cover. Glass shattering joined the roar of bullets, and Del reeled as she tried to change direction, the shot stamping through the floor right in front of her feet.
Saxophone was on his feet again, bleeding. Shepard saw him aim at her, then there was a blur of blue as Brooks shoved her backward. There was a flash of blood, she heard Brooks yell in pain, felt heat skim over her upper arm. Del hit the floor hard with her back and shoulders…but the floor didn't stay put. Already compromised by being shot several times, (and currently being shot more as the merc with the assault rifle sprayed his gunfire at her, trying to take her out) the reinforced glass of the aquarium couldn't handle the impact of her weight. She crashed through the first layer of glass, felt herself momentarily enveloped with water. There was another muffled crunch almost lost in the rush of water in her ears and her vision went momentarily white as the back of her skull struck the bottom of the tank. The assault rifle fire finished the job, and the entire tank gave way beneath her, half the floor of the restaurant collapsing in a wash of glass, bullets, water, sea life, and Spectre. Barely had she registered the back of her head slamming into the floor of the tank than she realized she was falling.
Her mind flashed with that spectacular view Ryuusei had afforded…forty stories in the air above the arcade mall, and she could only think one thing.
Fan. Fucking. Tastic.