In an observatory orbiting Z'ha'dum-9, one of a few worlds cordoned in salarian space for research purposes, Mordin Solus sipped on Cantioc tea while reviewing his findings. The satellite network had a slight calibration error; its sporadic use over the years required thousands of tiny adjustments to meet the specific needs of whichever researchers were using it.
IO signal currently acceptable, could be better.
"Computer," Mordin said, "refresh harden cycle on liquid antenna loop, adjust z-axis receiver by point two-two-four relative to Y. Filter for ionosphere disruption." The computer beeped an acknowledgment.
Mordin noticed the slight discoloration in his tea. He frowned.
The door to the lab slid open, and a grey-skinned salarian wearing the Special Tasks Group uniform entered the small laboratory, his slim form reflecting warped images off the round, polished materials.
"Specialist Wiks. Sleep well?" Mordin didn't turn away from the data splayed across holo-monitors streaming in pictographic detail.
"Specialist Solus," the younger salarian said, "I should ask you the same, but I can guess the answer." Mordin sniffed.
"Sleeping well enough. Made breakthrough." Padok Wiks' eyes expanded, darting between Mordin and the data streaming across the landscape of holo-monitors.
"And you didn't wake me?" Mordin shrugged and set down his tea.
"Your input unnecessary at the time. Observe." Mordin waved his omni-tool at the screen, and the data transformed into colored waves, oscillating in concert, separated by Mordin's model of input. "Short-ranged, aural communication, combined with pheromone emitter in glandular region to elicit complex commands. Affects growth of neural receptors in underdeveloped pre-frontal region of larval offspring." The data shifted and expanded to reveal a three-dimensional cross-section of the Rachni worker brain, a series of nodules highlighted. The waves re-appeared next to the cross-section, and data spilled out, revealing the nature of the waves and their corresponding receptors.
"Separation lead to undeveloped epiphenomena in her young. Attunement allows us to supply basic communication."
Wiks crossed his arms. "This was already known. And practically accomplished by the dolts on Noveria. Proving it beyond the model gets us no closer to our goal." Mordin shook his head.
"Long range communication apparently based on quantum manipulation. Quantum pairs can't be observed, only manipulated by other quantum pair. Data only acts at two points." Mordin sniffed, adding: "Physics."
Wiks waved a hand and went to the refreshment cooler. "Yes, yes. Knowing what they say is not quite as useful as being able to change it, though." Mordin's eyes narrowed.
"Not useful to whom, I wonder? To us, or the Rachni?" Wiks didn't respond, and grabbed a can of something sugary. "The Dalatrass can demand all she wants. She cannot change physics. The Rachni cannot be controlled. They are not a weapon. They are a people."
"So you say," said Wiks, ignoring the insinuating remark about the Dalatrass. "I don't want to exterminate them. That would be unethical, of course. But they did nearly wipe out galactic civilization, and forced us to make a mistake with the krogan."
"Paid for their sins. Better to let them serve, than to make them servants, yes?" Mordin didn't clarify whether he was speaking about the Rachni or the krogan. Wiks made a dismissive sound and ambled to a communication terminal. He was going to read Mordin's report.
Mordin inhaled deeply. "How did the Rachni war start?" Mordin adopted a practiced, professorial tone.
Wiks shrugged and turned his attention back to Mordin. "Easy. We opened a relay, sent an exploratory vessel, the Rachni captured and reverse-engineered it, then attacked the galaxy at large."
"Ah," Mordin said with a slight smile, "but why did the Rachni attack?"
Wiks slurped the sports drink, pausing to consider this question a bit longer than the last. "Unknown. All attempts to communicate with the Rachni failed."
"Precisely," Mordin said, raising a finger to the ceiling. "Extrapolate issue further. All large scale conflicts have several causes, depending on point of view of combatants. Turian unification war caused by cultural formality, split dependence, burgeoning population, separation from cultural center, lack of turian mercantile expertise—"
"Mercantilism?" Wiks interrupted. "As a factor in the Unification War?"
Mordin started pacing, one hand perched below his chin, the other supporting his elbow.
"Turian metabolism dependent on rare dextro-amino life-forms. Lack of food one of the common contributions to unrest. Trade allows access and exploitation of material sources across a network of partners. Eases burden during shortage, or creates surplus to ease concern for future. Also good way to make friends with those who are different. Thus, a factor in war."
"So," Wiks set down his canned drink and adopted a speculative expression, "the Rachni might be intelligent, but they're still just monsters. Monsters with big brains." Mordin clucked in disagreement.
"Monsters to us. The hierarchy were monsters to independent turian colonies during the war, systems just defending their way of life. All sides correct from their own vantage. All about perspective. Point of view. Historical debate on factors of war important for gathering data. Data allows us to change, not repeat mistakes. With Rachni war, missing critical data points."
Wiks nodded. "I think I get what you're saying, but this conflict has very little possibility of repeating itself. We don't open dormant Relays anymore. We learned our lesson. What can we possibly learn from talking to the Rachni about a conflict that will never feasibly happen again?"
Mordin turned his attention back to the holo-monitors. They represented the pinnacle of narrow-point spectroscopy, capable of counting the number of flies in a swarm, their maturity, and sex, based on the frequency of their wing flaps, all from an orbital distance and speed. If it was all attuned correctly, of course.
"Universe a very large place, specialist Wiks. Always room for more monsters. When we find them, we must take care not to become monsters ourselves."
There was an uncharacteristic silence between the two salarians, who would normally be sermonizing between periods of focused research. Wiks picked his drink back up, slurping noisily.
"Not enjoying your tea today, specialist Solus?" Wiks eyed Mordin's no-longer-steaming draught with curiosity.
"Distracted. Boiled too long. Growing tired of Cantioc anyway, might try Vilan next." Mordin sniffed.
"I concede," Wiks said, finally putting his loud beverage in a waste disposal bin. "If we can learn from the Rachni, it will be useful."
Mordin nodded, satisfied. Had to be. Only way to go forward.
"I'm curious, though," Wiks added, "what is she saying?" His large eyes reflected the images of data.
Wiks would figure it out eventually. He would figure out the Rachni queen transmitted a very specific message, a message intended for the salarians to unlock, a message that inexplicably resembled human-Alliance distress protocols.
Mordin already decoded the Rachni's message, of course, and re-encoded it with a parameter the STG wouldn't immediately decrypt, from a spoofed sender. He filed the original findings in a carefully written report, and found a way to communicate a different message to the queen, which she was now mimicking to his great pleasure.
He couldn't delete the data without Wiks, or someone more important, noticing, but he could delay them for a time. He would deal with that infraction eventually, and it wouldn't be the first time he skirted protocol.
"A song I taught her," Mordin answered with a smile. "Are you familiar with comic opera?"
Garrus Vakarian shivered in the decontamination chamber, familiarity and anxiety washing over him as the automated processes removed particulates from the air and surface of his hardsuit. He put away his visor, saving the calibration suite he'd been working on, and stepped on the ship.
A bright light greeted him through the opening door, revealing dark paneling, gray alloys, and the dim glow of orange holo-screens beyond.
The light reflected off pink skin, the domed shaped head of a human, whose wrinkles seemed more prominent, tighter, than Garrus remembered. The human's uniform, cuffed and creased, a dark shade of blue, and adorned with symbolic pins, was a familiar sight, but not one Garrus expected to see, much less greeting him with attention.
"Pressly?"
Pressly nodded. A solemn gesture of recognition, affirmation, and thanks. Garrus saw pain in the navigator's eyes.
"No sense sugarcoating it at this point. Better follow me."
The human turned and started down the hallway, and Garrus followed, through the neck of the ship and into the Combat Information Center.
The CIC was alive with activity. A forum gathered around the star map, jockeying marines, deckhands, and engineers in attendance, it looked like the whole crew had gathered. Dozens of arguments flew past Garrus' understanding, but most were focused on a brawl happening on the deck floor between Ashley Williams and an older looking male with silver hair, a scarred face, and dated heavy armor. The old human had one dead eye.
Pressly looked embarrassed. "He wanted to help," he said, pointing to the old man on the ground defending himself, "so I accepted, we need it, but the crew disagrees."
"The hell does that mean?" the old, silver-haired human said from his position on his back, in response to something Williams said before Garrus was paying attention. "If you hadn't been busy barking at me, we wouldn't be here, now would we, princess?" The older man was fending off Williams' attacks, and managed to clamp one of her wrists in a grip, but her free hand continued pounding toward his face.
"Stop calling me princess, you liar. The plan was FUBAR from the beginning, and you knew Vido would be rolling up with a whole crew!" Williams kept up the attack, landing a few glancing blows.
"If I knew Vido'd be there," the old man growled, "I'd have packed a thermo-nuclear explosive, not a couple of marine pups who mistake trained mercenaries for red-shirts." He managed to get a knee beneath Williams, and pushed her clear off him, causing her to crash into a nearby marine.
The marine looked ready to take Williams' place in the fight.
"Enough!" Pressly shouted. "I am XO of this ship, and I will NOT have it devolve into chaos while the Commander is gone!" Garrus stepped between Williams and the man on the floor.
"Who's the skullface?" the older human asked breathlessly, sitting up and wiping red blood off his lower lip. Garrus cocked his head, mimicking the confusion, and looked for someone to explain.
Ashley sighed, shaking off the marine who held her. "Garrus Vakarian, meet Zaeed piece-of-shit Massani."
"Joker," Pressly said to the air, "Fill Garrus in."
Joker's voice, slightly modulated and full of sarcasm, piped up on the deck's loud speakers. "Shepard's been kidnapped. We hope. By a ruthless mercenary gang to be held for ransom. We hope. Hi, Garrus, how's your day been?"
"Nice to uh, see you too, Joker. Do we know if Shepard is even still alive?"
"Not exactly," Zaeed said, catching his breath. He stood up and leaned on the CIC's main center console. "Blue Suns are known to apprehend high value targets and ransom them for money, though."
"Blue Suns. Tricky. And how do we know that?" Garrus asked.
Garrus heard plenty about the Blue Suns from his work at Citadel Security. They were one of the Terminus groups blacklisted from entering Citadel space, but he knew that they conducted business with politicians and merchants through back-channels that he was never "allowed" to investigate officially.
"Because I used to be one," Zaeed said with a grimace. "Plus, I know Vido. We go way back, and my gut says Shepard is still alive."
"Ah," Garrus said, still not clear about the whole situation.
"You're still on about this?" Williams asked, all rancor. "Your gut feeling got us into this mess." Garrus had only seen her this fired up after Virmire. She reminded him of a krogan in human skin.
"Arguing about who's at fault isn't going to bring her back," Garrus said. Zaeed leaned back, looking to Williams with content in his eyes.
"Finally, someone with a godamned head on their shoulders."
"Now, uh, Zaeed," Garrus said, taking a step toward the mercenary. "How long ago were you in the Blue Suns?" Zaeed narrowed his eyes and nodded.
"Long enough. We didn't part on the best of terms." The old mercenary stabbed a finger toward his scarred face. "I'm more than willing to tell you the whole story over drinks, turian, but we have more pressing things to discuss."
"Got it," Garrus said. He wanted to interrogate the old human, but he needed to press for more information. He mentally divided Ashley and Zaeed into witness categories, and was tempted to separate them for the sake of interview, but with Shepard missing, he didn't feel like he had the time.
"What makes you think Shepard's alive?"
"Like I said, gut feeling." Zaeed crossed his arms again, guarded. "I know what Vido Santiago's like, and he wouldn't let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers. Someone tipped him off about Shepard, and Vido's the type to kill two birds with one stone." Garrus wasn't sure if the idiom translated properly.
"Meaning?" Ashley asked before Garrus could form the words.
"Meaning if he's getting married and wants to throw a big godamned party, he's going to pay for the whole thing by selling Shepard's bounty, and he'll look like the biggest badass this side of the Verge." Zaeed waved a hand toward the console's galaxy map, and a list of planets appeared in the hologram. "Look, these are systems I know Vido has real estate. I've been keeping tabs on this asshole for a while. He moves a lot, never conducts business in person unless he has to, and never appears in public. He lets his officers take most of the credit."
"Pretty smart, for a criminal," Garrus supplied.
"Damn right. Only reason I haven't nuked his ass yet."
"You think his wedding is going to be public?" Pressly asked, joining the conversation.
"I know it," Zaeed said, smiling, "'cause I got an invitation."
"What? How? Why didn't you say this before?" Ashley asked.
"Because it's Aria T'Loak's invitation, and because she doesn't do weddings, she let me have it. For a favor. I knew you'd object, given the source." Zaeed's smug expression was readable even to Garrus.
Garrus knew Aria by reputation. She was one of the most investigated individuals in Council space, even though she lived and operated on the opposite side of the galaxy. She was one of the few people who had an open arrest warrant without having actually committed a documented crime in any jurisdiction that would make an arrest stick. That sort of thing was normally reserved for batarian slavers or krogan warlords. Aria was incredibly dangerous.
"You're willing to upset Aria just to get a shot at your old boss?" Garrus asked. Zaeed nodded. Garrus scratched his chin, contemplating, and said, "Okay, I'm in."
"What? You believe this guy?" Ashley turned her ire on Garrus.
"He's taking a risk, so yeah. As long as his vengeance doesn't get in the way of rescuing Shepard. I'm in." Zaeed looked victorious. Ashley sighed, defeated. "There's a catch, though, right?" Garrus looked to Zaeed.
"Yeah, of-bloody-course there's a catch. Invitation didn't come with the location, and I'm not owing Aria or the Shadow Broker any more favors. Vido's guards will shoot me on sight, so I obviously can't participate in the festivities. Princess here might also be hooked, on account of her smelling like Alliance from a football field away." Ashley bristled. "Plus, Aria doesn't hire humans. Which just leaves you, Two-Toes."
Garrus cocked his head. "You're kidding, right? The place is probably going to be packed with criminals, if what you said was true. I'm not exactly the undercover type. We go in expecting a fight, or not at all."
"And we don't even know where this is taking place," Ashley added.
"Bekenstein," Pressly announced, as if it were obvious. Everyone turned to the bald XO. "What?" he asked, facing a crowed of boggled expressions. "I'm a navigator for a reason. It's simple. Look." Attention shifted to the galaxy map.
"We eliminate these systems here. Too remote, they're obviously private residence or vacation spots. Terra Nova is in Alliance space, too public. These systems aren't comfortable for evening wear, so they're out." Pressly dismissed planet after planet on the hologram. "Which leaves Bekenstein. Also, I've been tracking personnel requisitions, shuttle departures from Earth and other Alliance systems, and everything points to Bekenstein. It's rich, it's comfortable, and it's got a white collar criminal reputation."
"Perfect," Zaeed said with a gleam in his eye. "I've seen plenty of examples of the next Elkoss knock-off from arms dealers in Bekenstein parties."
"Alright," said Garrus, rubbing his forehead, "We might know where it is, but that doesn't mean I can just walk in with your invitation, find Shepard, and shoot my way out."
"We can't?" Ashley asked. "Why not call the Alliance, get some boots on the ground and take this place out?"
"Announces we're coming," Garrus said, "which makes Shepard a liability. Better to just kill the commander and cash in on the bounty at that point."
"Unfortunate," Zaeed said, "but Two-toes is right. We're taking on the leader of the most well-armed mercenary band in the galaxy. He's got a few friends and more than a few employees. We gotta give you a moniker and a back-story. We accept as one of Aria's lieutenants and go in her stead, but it's gotta seem legit."
Garrus didn't want to admit it, but he found himself getting a little excited. He'd worked on similar plans back with C-Sec, and taking on a high ranking criminal again felt invigorating, but he was never the one under cover, it was always a partner going in who had better acting skills. His asari partner on the Citadel was three times the undercover officer he was, even if he was the better investigator. In the field, he worked best as a spotter, with a sniper rifle and several known exits once a plan went into action.
"Yeah, just one problem. I'm not the best at the undercover thing. I might know criminals, but acting like one is a completely different skill set."
"Maybe," Ashley said, looking thoughtful, "you don't have to act like a criminal. Hear me out on this. Every turian I've met acts like they have a stick up their ass, no offense." Garrus' mandibles pressed to frown. "Even the ones on Omega," Ashley continued, pacing in short steps around the CIC, "still had the turian military air about them. Guarded. Vigilant. That sort of thing. You guys don't have the greatest poker face, but you all have the same poker face. We can use that."
"A vigilante," Zaeed said, hand on chin. "Yeah, I dig it. Omega's always got some do-gooder trying to change things. They never last long, though. What do we call you?"
"I got it!" Joker's voice boomed from all directions, and he adopted the tone of a serial holo-vid narrator: "From the grunge-filled depths of Omega, comes Aria's vigilante sword, a knight in shining blue armor, but with a dark past. Expelled from the Hierarchy for cutting through red tape, he joined Aria's cabal of criminal exterminators. By day, he keeps the peace in a place where there is no peace. By night, he exacts justice with the business-end of his sniper rifle.
"I present to you—drum roll please. Pressly?"
"Damnit, Joker!"
"Fine! No drum roll. I present to you, Archangel!"
The entire CIC looked at Garrus.
"What's an archangel?" He asked.
Garrus' shuttle complained as it dropped through Bekenstein's atmosphere, supports struggled to compensate for the temperature difference, heat blasted off the shields in tune with the element zero core balancing the shuttle's increasing weight during descent. The computer read green, however, and the shuttle's VI delivered its cargo of Garrus, Ashley, and Zaeed safely through the clouds.
Garrus tapped through calibration settings on his visor. Magnification maxed at 12x, urban suite. He kept biofeedback turned on, and played with biotic field detection thresholds. He felt anxious again.
In one talon, he was glad to be off Menae and hunting a dangerous criminal again, but in the other, the situation wasn't ideal. He never had his own command before, and he was going to be taking point on this mission. His experience with humans amounted to the occasional C-Sec recruit, traffic controllers and the like, and his brief stint on the Normandy. The hunt for Saren didn't give him a lot of time to bond with the human crew, outside of following Shepard's lead. Now, he would have to do his best with their plan and hope the rest came to him in the moment.
Ashley cycled her rifle's heat-release sequence, checking diagnostics, and repeating the actions over and over with practiced efficiency. The M-99 Saber clicked and whined, clicked and whined. The rifle's audio cut through the engine noise with every repetition.
"We'll get her back, Ash," Garrus said, trying to sound confident.
"Don't worry about Shepard, Two-Toes," Zaeed said from the opposite bench. He chewed on an unlit cigar, half a grin peering from behind the brown cylinder of partially crushed plant and paper. "I don't know what sort of crazy soldier they like to cook up in the special forces program, but I know Shepard isn't without her tricks. You find your damsel, we'll make sure the job gets done." Zaeed motioned to himself and Ashley. The rifle continued to click and whine.
The more Garrus understood of the old mercenary, the more troubling he felt. Bounty hunters, mercs for hire, and criminals in general typically don't survive to Zaeed's age. The scars on the human's face and hands told stories of what the man had seen, and all of them appeared to be painful experiences. Zaeed's bravado was more than an act. The man was dangerous, and Garrus knew, more than suspected, his involvement didn't hinge on rescuing the Commander.
"You seem sure of yourself," Garrus said. Zaeed shifted the cigar to the opposite corner of his grin.
"Damn right. Humans are the most dangerous sons of bitches in the galaxy, Garrus. You know why?"
Garrus took the bait. He needed to understand this man better to properly lead the operation. A mistake in the field could cost lives. Shepard would have found some common ground by now, and he needed that perspective to be effective. Click. Whine.
"We do anything to win," Zaeed pressed. "You turians can hold a good line. Meet force with overwhelming force, and all that. Humans? We sacrifice. We fight dirty. Sure, take Shanxi, have it, we'll be back to drop a hammer on your heads from orbit. We'll make that choice every time, and you'll make yours all the same."
"My father was involved in that conflict," Garrus said, "I never got the impression he thought the humans are more dangerous than, say, the krogan." Click. Whine. Click. Whine.
"I might be close to the same age as your old man, Two-Toes. Turians outgunned us, sure, but the fighting ended before we had to dig deep. Really had to fight to survive. Bioweapon ain't going to work on us, we've been through a bit of that ourselves." Click. Whine.
"Enlighten me, then, what was humanity preparing to do that would have guaranteed victory?" Click. Whine.
"I didn't wear the uniform," Zaeed nodded in Ashley's direction, "so I don't know what they were cooking up to take you out, but it wouldn't have been pretty. I've seen my people do some pretty horrible things to win a war. Who knows? Super carriers delivering fighters with faulty eezo cores that failed catastrophically as they crashed into your vaunted dreadnought lines, towed asteroids to bomb captured worlds, booby trapped satellites, that sort of thing. Hell, we probably considered destroying relays to trap your boys in isolated systems. The stories going around at the time were pretty wild." Click. Whine.
Garrus sat back, astonished. The old mercenary described many of the tactics the krogan employed in their rebellion. It took the krogan years to develop these strategies, though, first relying on their quick reproduction and nearly indestructible biology to win battles. Humanity would have came up with these things in weeks or months, instead, Garrus realized. After seeing the way Shepard led a team and fought on the field, Garrus knew Zaeed was probably right. Humanity might not have won a prolonged war against the turians, but taking Earth would have been a nightmare.
Click. Whine. Click.
"We're getting close to the drop point," Ashley announced, stowing her rifle and shifting her weight.
Garrus noticed she was right, they were approaching the drop point located just outside Santiago's estate. Gray and orange rock and sparse foliage rushed to meet the shuttle in increasing detail on the monitor.
"Just remember the plan," Garrus said, "keep comms open, and don't do anything stupid." Zaeed winked at him with his good eye.
The shuttle touched down, the doors opened, and the two humans bounced out, separating immediately and disappearing in the rocky hills, leaving Garrus alone.
The turian sighed and the shuttle doors closed.
The five story structure stood atop a hill, framed by the distant capital city's skyline. Arches and spires and airships glittered in the background, suggesting the owner of this estate liked the solitude of the area but appreciated the vista and proximity to the trade center. Stringed music floated out of the house into the afternoon air.
The sight of human architecture always put Garrus on edge. He saw something alien in all the columns, the excessive windows, the square corners. Garrus figured he wasn't accustomed to the human design yet, and the other alien races were just familiar. Still, the structure in front of him felt disquieting. The great stone behemoth appeared simultaneously indefensible, practical, but artistic, the melding of which reminded him of volus constructs without the necessary accommodations for pressure. It was open, strong, but all too pretty. Odd.
Garrus willfully approached the human party against every protesting scale of his skin.
He talked to his headset, reporting the positions of a half-dozen guards wearing mass-effect generating soft-suits under their decorative attire, clear to a trained eye and Garrus' targeting visor. Two visible snipers posted on a balcony, and the building sported what looked to be some sort of mechanical security system on the roof. A body scanner, like one of the ones C-Sec used, went off with a soft hum and tagged him as he approached the grounds.
"Clade brother," came a dull announcement, breaking Garrus' concentration, the ditoned flanging of turian origin. A well-dressed turian with blue facial tattoos stepped into Garrus' view, his equipment and stature marking him as security, while his clan markings suggested a loose family resemblance. A distant cousin, maybe.
Spirits. Turians. Garrus forgot about non-humans in the plan to pretend be somebody else.
"Ah, uh, thanks," Garrus mustered as he followed the other turian up to the door.
"You'll have to pardon the music, I think these tan skinned asari enjoy the skagwaul. The actual asari seem to love it anyway." Garrus noticed the guard was young, his facial tattoos still fresh, maybe not even a year dry, and not polished off like some of the turian criminals Garrus had brought in. His scales didn't show the signs of molting under the harsh Palaven radiation, they were clean and dimple-free. The guard was just a kid.
"Look, are you going to take my invitation or what?" Garrus stood his full height, back straight, maybe a few centimeters taller than the other turian, crest to crest, holding out his credentials.
The kid looked momentarily offended, passing a glance to the other guards, some of them eyeing the situation with peripheral attention. He looked back to Garrus' outstretched data pad, then to the M-3 Predator on his hip.
"You'll have to lose the sidearm," he said, the attempt at banter evaporated from his tone. He read the script on the pad. "Ark... Archangel?"
"No."
The other guards' attention became much less peripheral. The kid took half a step back.
"Look, maybe you got the wrong idea, but—"
"I'm keeping my sidearm," Garrus said, trying to adopt the persona that Joker gave him. "I'll take this in and you're going to allow it, because my pistol isn't the most dangerous thing in that room, is it?" Garrus pointed one taloned finger over the kid's shoulder.
The youngster opened his mouth to object, when a blue hand touched his shoulder from behind.
"He's right. I am." The asari stood tall, nearly eye-level with Garrus. Her dress neither hid the curves of her body nor the suit of armor woven with it in typical asari taste. Garrus knew this woman.
"Dantius?" he blurted, almost dropping the façade. Nassana Dantius smiled like a predator.
"This one's talons aren't sharp enough to concern you," she purred to the guard. "Besides, we wouldn't want to upset Aria, now would we?"
Garrus snapped back to attention. This was a party of galactic criminals. He wasn't on the Citadel. He wasn't on the Normandy. He wasn't backed up by Shepard and her crew. His 'friends' were maybe within sight range, with rifles that would just annoy most of the guards before everyone got pegged.
He was alone.
The young turian finished scanning Garrus' data pad with dutiful efficiency, visibly shaken by the powerful asari breathing down his neck and an armed turian annoyed with the inconvenience. "You're clear, Archangel," he said, then added: "No funny business," to save face.
Garrus took his data pad and pushed past the guard, falling into step with Dantius up and into the house.
"See, Garrus?" William's voice came in small through his earpiece, "nothing to it."
"Good work, Archy," Zaeed said, "But try to lose Dantius, she's Eclipse, and bad news."
"Thought I recognized you," Garrus said, taking time to observe his surroundings and hoping Dantius didn't recognize him.
The interior of the house bustled with movement, the targeting computer silhouetting Garrus' left eye frantically tried to ping the various wait staff, dancers, and conversation groups scattered about the large room. The hardwood and stone floors click-clacked beneath Garrus' armored feet, the polish reflecting the joyous movement in a nauseating display. Finery, artwork, and even paper books lined the expansive walls of the room, and the large patio overlooking the distant city, opened from the back of the room, inviting people to use the space to dance, while the stringed music heard earlier filled the air, played by a quartet of human musicians.
"And I guess you're Aria's new toy," Dantias said, striding into the room without so much as a hint of discomfort. "She finally throw Gavorn out an air-lock?" Garrus didn't know exactly how to respond, but once again took a cue from Joker's Archangel backstory.
"Aria doesn't throw away her toys without good reason," he said, trying to identify exits, or secret rooms, or the bar.
"I suppose. She does still keep Patriarch around. Maybe that's why she has Omega and I don't." Garrus bristled. She was propositioning him, subtly. Understanding suddenly crystallized in Garrus' mind.
"I can't speak for Aria, you know that."
"But you can speak for yourself." Dantius turned Garrus around by the shoulder to force him to face her, hunger in her dark eyes.
The two stood, pausing for a beat, before Dantius continued: "Care to meet the hosts?" Garrus followed her gaze and spotted the man matching Vido's description, thirty meters away, talking to a krogan in red armor, with a human woman in a white dress hanging on his expensive looking jacket.
"I'd love to get acquainted, but maybe later." Garrus brushed the asari's hand off his shoulder.
"Very well, I'm told these ceremonies can be quite long. I'll be looking for you, Archangel." With that, she left to cross the room in Vido's direction.
Zaeed whistled in his ear. "Whew. Glad I didn't show up for this escapade myself."
"This is totally how I planned this rescue going. What's your twenty?"
"Maybe a klik out," Ashley reported, "try not to get into trouble."
"Aye," Zaeed said, "Shepard's probably underground, so keep an eye out, Archy. Follow security if you have to."
"In the meantime," Garrus said, "Try to find alternative access. This place is crawling with mercs. If a fight breaks out, I'd rather be in the hills."
Garrus decided that if rescuing Shepard required playing pirate politics, he'd need a drink. He identified the bar through the glass panes, standing on the edge of the patio, and started toward it.
A massive armored fist appeared in front of him, blocking his path. Garrus looked up into flitting, reptilian, yellow eyes.
"A message," the krogan said, hot breath and dental neglect burning Garrus' nostrils. Garrus cocked his head and moved to loosen his sidearm.
"Speak then, brute, or get out of my—" The fist turned into an accusatory stab at Garrus' chest.
"TO ARIA," the beast softly bellowed, cutting him off. "The Crush we called. Tell her to show or Omega will be no more."
The krogan turned, indifferently breaking off the conversation, and walked away.
"Sounds like Garm," Zaeed said. "Big bastard. Had a few tussles with him back in the day. Does he still will those obnoxious rods sticking out of his armor?"
"Yeah," Garrus confirmed with a deep breath.
"Heh. Hasn't learned his lesson, then. If you gotta fight him, try blowing those up first. The idiot thinks that carrying lithium bombs on his back is a good idea."
"I'll keep that in mind," Garrus said, "well that's Eclipse and Blood Pack, right? Wonder what Blue Suns have in store for me." He continued out onto the wide patio, into the dimming evening light, and over to the bar.
He shoved one the human's uncomfortable stools out of the way and examined the drink kiosk. A human wearing the black and white staff uniform polished glasses near an organized rack of ingredients. Garrus ordered a Forward March while trying to come up with a plan.
Threatening Vido to give up Shepard looked like the obvious way to go. If Ashley or Zaeed could get within grenade range of the house, a few distracting explosions and one armored turian might be enough to separate Vido from his other guests. Most of the doors in the house appeared locked, the stairs were blocked off, and he counted no less than six patrols on the ground floor. If he waited until the party started dying down, he might be able to signal the fireworks and drag Vido into the washroom or a kitchen before anyone knew what was going on.
The dark blue beverage appeared in a turian glass, where the stem met the cup squared off to help prevent slipping through talons, with a tiny umbrella sticking out of it, which Garrus removed and stuck between his mouth and mandibles to play with, akin to Zaeed's cigar. Garrus looked up to thank the bartender when a blue and white dressed asari saddled up at the stool next to him.
Here we go. Garrus took a deep breath.
"Garrus?"
"Liara?"
Liara T'soni blushed, leaning in close. "You should call me Night Sister. I'm trying not to attract attention." Garrus nodded, sympathetic.
"I'm Archangel. Joker's idea."
"I suppose we're here for the same reasons, then. How's the Normandy?" Garrus switched off his microphone for a moment.
"On edge. Joker's a lot more sarcastic than I remember. Williams broke down and cleaned her arsenal three or four times on the way here. They recruited a bounty hunter, Zaeed Massani. Pressly is saluting me. It's... Weird. How did you get here?"
"Used my mother's inheritance to get into some research circles, trying to dig up Prothean information, or Reaper information that no one thought important. Got black-listed, or something, I'm not really sure what, but I was getting barred from any academic event I tried to attend. I paid the Shadow Broker for some details, and—oh, I'm rambling."
Garrus tried to keep a straight face.
"Long story short," Liara let out a deep breath, "I found a message encrypted with ancient Asari cantos and followed the trail here."
"Yeah, same thing happened to me."
"You know the one hundred forty seven cantos of Ashiela Tzane?"
"What? No, I got an anonymous message written in a pre-unification dialect."
Liara blushed again and sat back, looking at Garrus' drink. "That any good?"
Garrus took a sip. It was actually pretty decent. He knew a few bars on the Citadel that could make a better Forward March, but none of them from a human. He ordered Liara an Asari wine from the kiosk.
"Anyway," Garrus said after Liara's drink arrived and the bartender left to attend to someone else, "I'm glad you're here. I have a new appreciation for Terminus politics, and I don't think I can pull off a heist like this alone." Liara sipped on her wine, taking in the situation.
"You think she's here? Oh, wait," Liara paused for a moment, examining Garrus. "You're going to capture someone and make them talk."
"Yeah, Vido Santiago is our guy. He's the groom." Garrus pointed the man out, dancing with his new wife on the patio. The rest of the procession started gathering outside, to watch, or dance.
"I don't think we can grab him with a crowd like this," Liara said, noting the security, and the krogan. Garrus saw Liara didn't have any weapons.
"How's your barrier these days, Night Sister?" Liara smiled.
"Getting better. Just don't ask me to fight the krogan."
"I'll deal with Garm, you watch out for Nassana Dantius."
"Roger that, Archangel."
The two finished their drinks and stood away from the bar. Liara left a credit chit by way of a tip, which Garrus completely forgot about (humans and volus, the only two species who expected their service tipped, and it completely invalidated the concept of an "open" bar. It was never clear to Garrus which situations they expected the tip, either. Spirits help me). Garrus turned his mic back on.
"Status?"
"I got eyes on you, and your girlfriend, Archy," Zaeed's rough timbre came in clear through the radio. "And, I see the dance floor, and my boy Vido."
"I'm circling around back," Ashley said, "but they've got two additional snipers on the roof. Gonna take the long way around." Garrus winced. Four snipers, six guards on the ground floor, another four or five from out front, and who knows how many on a different floor. Liara's biotics and Garrus' Predator wouldn't do much against those odds, even with a distraction.
"Something's happening," Liara said, pointing to the crowd. The music stopped.
Vido stood on a platform, the wide vista of Milgrom's towering spires and arches in the background, announcing to the small crowd of elite criminals; humans, asari, a few turians, and some salarians in attendance. Garm stood like a statue near the platform, while Dantius positioned herself in the back of the crowd, arms crossed, looking over everyone's heads.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Vido started with authoritative grandeur. "Thank you for celebrating this joyous day with me, and my new wife, Elanas Haliat Santiago." Vido held a hand out to his bride and the crowd applauded in response.
Elanas Haliat. Why did that sound familiar?
"My first official gift to my new wife, is something very special. Honey, would you like to do the honors?" Elanas stepped on to the platform, and Vido stepped aside.
Garrus felt that nervous pit in his gizzard rising up again. He resisted the urge to check the calibration settings on his visor.
"Thank you, dear," Elanas said, then addressed the crowd: "This marriage is more than just the joining of two souls. It's an assurance that our way of life, our independence from the Council, and our path forward, will be one of progress. My husband's gift to me is my gift to you. You might remember our little mistake in 2176, which failed, and severely limited our access to batarian wealth."
Garrus didn't like the sound of this. "Zaeed, Ash, you found any alternate route?"
"Negative," Zaeed said.
"I have a garage in sight," Ashley said, "but no one's guarding it. I don't think it's what we want."
Elanas continued: "And yet, we came back stronger than ever."
"Recently, our connection to Council-funded ventures abruptly dried up with the death of Saren Arterius, forcing us to look within our own small networks for capital. We've had to become stronger still."
Some people in the crowd nodded in agreement.
"One person has been responsible for our set backs." Elanas paced back and forth on the small platform. "One person has been a thorn in the side of the Terminus worlds, and now, attached with over a million credit bounty, I give you that person." Elanus waved a hand behind her, and a massive holo-projector rose out of the rocky hill, blocking the view of the city beyond.
Shorter people in the crowd started shuffling around to get a better look.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Elanas said, activating something on her omni-tool, "I give you Commander Shepard."
The holo-projector lit up, revealing a live feed from inside some rocky cell. The Commander sat in a heap. Her hands caked in rust-colored dried blood. Her face bruised. Her breathing shallow. She lied there, rail-thin, and nearly motionless.
Liara gasped. An excited chatter took over the crowd. Garrus felt his anxiety turn to rage.
"To the highest bidder goes the spoils," Elanas said with a smile, "and the claim that they were the one to finally end the Alliance hero."
"This is a live feed?" a salarian in the crowd asked.
"Butler," Elanas said into her wrist, "wave to the camera, please."
A human wearing a lab coat stepped into frame, looking up at the camera. He waved. Shepard tried to move, but it looked like her injuries were too severe. Garrus tried to take in as many details as fast as he could. The walls in the projection appeared to be calcite, mixed with some heavy mineral he couldn't discern due to the lack of color, the lighting was bright from a single source, the human wore his facial hair thin with a mustache, but his boots—there was something off about his boots.
"What's going on?" Ashley called, "I see a box." Garrus stepped out of ear-shot from the crowd.
"It's Shepard," Garrus growled. "She's somewhere else, underground maybe. We're going, NOW! Zaeed, I need a distraction."
"Negative, Two-Toes, those snipers will take me out the second I open up. I need Princess to join the fun. Where's Vido slipped away to?" Garrus took a quick glance around, but couldn't spot Vido.
"Vido doesn't matter, we take Haliat instead."
"There's still this garage door," Ashley said, "I should go for it, come in from behind."
"Princess, you need to back me the hell up, no surprises."
"Spirits and skags, you two." Garrus didn't have time for arguments in the field. "LT, get up and here toss some grenades before our odds get even worse."
"Garrus," Ashley said, "this garage looks like it runs under the house. I might be able to get Shepard out of there if you two can draw attention up top."
Damnit. They had a better chance against the guards together, all up top, but the garage might have a better way to steal away the objective.
"Fine! Try to be quick, and don't attract attention, because I don't think Zaeed and I will last long up here." Ashley responded with a double-click of her radio.
The bidding started.
"Three million!" someone called out. Garrus turned his attention back to the crowd, and saw Liara stepping forward, holding her hand up and bidding for Shepard's life.
Why didn't I think of that? If Liara could win the bid before anyone cracked their identities, then she might walk out of here with the Commander and they wouldn't have to light anything up.
"Hold for my signal, Zaeed." Click click.
Garrus couldn't get to Elanas Haliat without going through Garm first, and he found the big krogan yawning near the stage. Apparently the Blood Pack didn't have millions of credits lying around, or else krogan aren't entertained by an auction for a human's life. Garrus started in his direction, weaving through the distracted crowd.
"Five million," Dantius announced, a cool smile forming. Her eyes shifted to Garrus for a moment as he moved toward the krogan. Elanas Haliat's omni-tool lit up with each bid.
Come on, Liara, your mom had to be worth more than that. Garrus winced at the cruel thought, but buying Shepard's freedom had to be the easiest victory they could hope for at this point.
"Six point five!" Liara called, but her voice shook. Damn.
Garrus closed in on Garm, pushing through people too caught up in the bidding war to pay him much heed.
"Ten million credits," Dantius said.
The crowd gasped. Liara looked deflated. Garrus noticed Elanas hesitate, her omni-tool flashing orange for a brief moment.
"Sold," she said, seemingly surprised. "To Nassana Dantius for ten million credits. Congratulations, and delivery arrangements will be made, for whatever state you would like Shepard in."
"Ash, Joker," Garrus had an epiphany, "the Commander isn't on planet, she's on a ship." The boots. It was those boots.
Garm's massive fist closed around Garrus' arm. Pressure skyrocketed, his suit complained, hard plates splitting apart and beginning to crack.
"I don't think you are the Archangel," Garm said.
Garrus wheeled, loosing the Predator in his off hand and pressing the barrel into one of the shiny metallic cylinders on Garm's back.
"Right now, I think I am." He pulled the trigger.
Author's Note:
Hey, look at that! I'm getting closer to meeting my own deadlines on this thing. Hopefully that means more story sooner.
If you're curious as to what the "save file" for ME1 is going into this story, check out my profile. I also have some overall goals for the story, if you're curious about what I've planned in very general terms.
More Shepard, and Garrus, and Mordin, and a bunch of others soon™! Promise!
