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Chapter Four – Hunters
The high towers of Nos Astra glittered. Shepard could see them, spear-straight and shining, whenever she made herself look past Liara's shoulder. Liara, she thought again, and dragged her gaze back to the asari's bright, welcoming smile.
"Your assassin contacted a woman named Seryna," Liara said mildly. She leaned forward, slender fingers clasped on the desk. "You can find her at the transport hub. I can send a request for her to wait for you, if you want."
"No, we'll head down straight away," Shepard said, blandly. "Thanks, Liara."
"I will send you all the information I have on your Justicar."
"Thank you." The silence tightened, and Shepard swung her legs out of the chair. She scrambled for something else to say, and muttered, "Alright, Vakarian. Let's go net ourselves an assassin."
"Shepard," Liara said, and her head lifted. "It was good to see you."
"Yeah." She nodded. "You too."
She waited until her heels were snapping hard against the polished corridor outside before she exhaled sharply. "Well," she said, and glanced up at Garrus. "That was the strangest conversation I've had in a fair while."
"Yeah," he answered.
"I'm gone two years and Liara has sources now." Tiredly, she grinned. "Shouldn't she be out on a rock somewhere knee-deep in prehistoric pottery?"
"Yeah. She should." With easy, lithe strides, he matched her pace. "She was hiding something."
"You noticed, huh?"
"The corners of her eyes crinkle too much. And she doesn't always know what to do with her hands."
Shepard laughed. "You're such a cop sometimes."
"Just observant," he told her absently.
"There was something she didn't want to say. Which troubles me given that she was, you know, threatening to fry some poor bastard with her mind."
"Flay," he corrected her, and she heard the soft burr of amusement in his voice.
"Whichever."
Strange, she thought. Pieces of the past all up and walking and talking at her, wearing an old friend's beautiful smile and soft voice. Liara who had been all grace and shimmering blue biotics and nervous stammering except when she talked about her digsites and her books and the Protheans.
Liara who had paced and paced while the Normandy swung in towards Noveria, her hands twisting and coiling around each other.
"Hey." Shepard reached out and caught her wrists, gently prying them apart. "Slow down. You're wearing a trench in the deck."
Liara swallowed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Sit down and talk to me. Or just talk."
"I have not seen Benezia for many years."
"And family reunions are tough enough without worrying about whether or not Mom is going to rip you apart with biotics, right?"
"That was a joke," Liara said.
"Yeah. A really bad one. Sorry."
"No, no." Abruptly, Liara sat. She clamped her fingers against the edge of the table. "Benezia is powerful."
"What if this is some mistake? What if she is trying to, I don't know. Subvert Saren, watch him."
"Shepard." Liara shook her head. Her eyelids trembled. "Do you think so?"
"I don't know." She kept her gaze on the other woman's face. She saw the awful, wrenching tension in the other woman's shoulders and hands and she understood. Liara would go to Noveria because she had to, and because there was no other way, and because she was needed. "I'll be with you."
"Hey," Garrus said, and eased his pace a little. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Slowly, she nodded. "Come on. We should go drag Taylor and Zaeed out of the bar."
The skycar darted between the surging lines of traffic. The asari, Seryna, coaxed the skycar past the knifing rise of six spires, her hands steady on the controls.
"The Dantius Towers," Shepard said, musingly. She had both feet braced up against the front windshield, and idly, she looked at the saw-toothed skyline, all afire with the sparkle of lights and the coppery play of the setting sun. "No relation of Nassana Dantius, by any chance?"
The asari snorted. "How did you guess?"
"Oh, we ran into each other a few years back. Remember that one, Garrus?"
"Yeah. Was that when she commissioned us to rescue her sister, who'd been captured by slavers?"
"And it turned out," Shepard said, and grinned. "That the slaver was the sister, and when we killed her, Nassana was far too happy. Trust issues, that family."
"So," Garrus said, and leaned forward so that his shoulder bumped the back of Shepard's seat. "I'm assuming Miss Dantius has pissed off someone too many times."
"A fair assumption. How much time d'you reckon the assassin's had in the towers, Seryna?"
"A few hours. She'll have the place locked down, though. You'll have to work your way through her men to get to him. If he even gets that far."
"Didn't you say this guy was good?" Shepard lunged forward and yanked at the buckles on her boots, tugging them into place.
"He is." The asari gunned the engine again, and the skycar lurched. She wrestled it past the gleaming side of a white building, and beneath a towering arch. She nodded, and said, "Up there, Shepard."
"Pretty," Shepard remarked lazily, when she saw the elegant, glass-sided towers. Linked partway up by a narrow bridge, she noted, and the fading light of the sun licked across the mirror-bright windows.
"What are you thinking, Commander?" Taylor asked.
"I'm thinking," she said, and remembered the plans Seryna had called up for her, the lines and levels and twisting ducts of the dual tower complexes. Under construction and not halfway finished, the asari had said, a maze without a guidebook and good luck finding an assassin in there, especially one who knows how to cling to the shadows.
They needed a quick way up, Shepard knew, something swift and hopefully quiet, a way that would lead them close to the assassin's target.
"I'm thinking," she said again. "That bridge is looking pretty good."
Shepard settled her shoulders against the side of the pillar and waited out the next deafening round of gunfire. Her elbow ached, and she could feel the stretching pull in her right calf. From the stairs, she remembered. The stairs that had twisted and turned up from the mezzanine below, sheeted on both sides with glass. The stairs she'd half fallen up after twelve Eclipse shooters had broken cover and rushed them.
When the impatient half-quiet returned, she hissed, "Taylor, now. Massani, with him."
She heard their footsteps, and the crack of Garrus' rifle as he shot over and past them. She twisted upright and fired around the edge of the pillar until she mowed down the three mercenaries crouched just across from her. Cramped and grueling and fucking annoying, she thought, and she knew the only way across was to pick their path slowly and carefully and not let a single man through their guard.
"Here," Taylor snapped back, and she heard the scrape of his armour against the pillar.
Massani crouched beside him, his face set in a thunderous scowl. "Slow going, Commander."
"They'll rip us apart if we rush them." Shepard chanced another look and counted off five more men, edging their way down the narrow span of the bridge. "Garrus, whenever you're ready, we've got you."
"On my way."
Three measured bursts of fire took down the nearest two men, punching through their shields and sending them staggering back. Taylor threw a rippling wall of blue energy at the others, and when they toppled, Massani's viciously timed shots bit into them.
"So," Garrus said, as his shoulders thumped against the pillar beside her. "This bridge still looking good?"
"Yeah, yeah." She spared him a grin. "Bitch about it later. Let's move."
With the same predatory wariness, Shepard motioned them across the last stretch of the bridge. Slowly, she padded between the maze of pillars and broken glass and when another wave of mercenaries charged them, she flung herself hard against the wall. Taylor filled the gap with the blue surge of his biotics, and on her other side, Garrus sank to his knees and aimed. She was pushing away from the wall by the time his shot rang out, and when she fired, Massani flanked her.
"All done, Shepard," Massani said. "No one still breathing."
"Good. Garrus, is Miss Dantius still screaming at her guards?"
His fingers flicked rapidly over his omni-tool. "Sounds like it."
"Good. Seems our assassin's doing us some favours."
"We're doing him plenty," Garrus retorted.
"Maybe he'll be grateful." She rolled her shoulders and exhaled sharply, letting the stiff tension in her spine ease. "Let's keep radio silence. It's dark enough in here already without us shouting out our position to everyone. You ready?"
"Whenever you are."
Another twenty minutes crawled past while they wove their way higher. Long sloping walkways led up to landings bracketed on both sides by glass. The rising moonlight swam in the glass walls, and below, Nos Astra gleamed. Beneath the high curve of an archway, another mercenary troop waited, and Shepard and Massani fired in tandem, stripping away their shields. The last one fell, his head reduced to a smouldering lump, and Shepard held up one hand. Wordlessly, Taylor and Massani braced themselves either side of the archway. She waited, eyes on the last closed set of doors, while Garrus teased the lock open. His fingers flicked across the keypad again, and he nodded.
The doors whispered open, and she strode through, Garrus flanking her. Soft pools of orange light met her, and Nassana Dantius' beautiful face.
"You," the asari hissed. "Shepard. Really."
"Really me what?"
"My guards report an attack, and you happen to break in," the asari said, each word glacial. "A coincidence, then?"
"A coincidence that it's you," Shepard replied blandly. She glanced past the asari and counted the armed men behind her. "Though I have to say, given what some of your workers downstairs said, it's probably past time that someone took a contract out on you."
"Someone," the asari said. "And you're adamant that you're not here to fulfill it?"
"If I was, don't you think I'd be firing my gun instead of just holding it?"
"Perhaps."
"Only perhaps?" Shepard grinned. "Nassana. Don't you trust me?"
Between the orange lights, the shadows moved. Shepard heard the faint click of something metallic, and then the asari's guards were spinning and aiming wildly up at the ceiling. Shepard's hand slid to her trigger, and a quick burst of gunfire swept out one of the guard's knees. Garrus followed up with another that knocked a second man off his feet.
As fast, the shape in the shadows glided between the last two guards. He was tall and lean and moved like smoke. He slammed an elbow into one guard's throat, and cupped hands at the back of the second one's neck and twisted until the man fell. His momentum carried him into the asari, and he spun her against him. Shepard saw the gleam of a pistol, and the silenced shot thumped into the asari's stomach.
"Well," Garrus muttered, and did not lower his rifle. "That was a hell of an entrance."
"Yeah," Shepard answered automatically. "You going to talk to us yet?"
Silently, the assassin lowered the asari to the ground. He folded her hands against each other, blue fingers curling lifelessly. He knelt, head bowed, and his lips moved soundlessly.
"You know," Shepard said, and stepped forward. "We did just slog up God knows how many flights of stairs to get up here. Feel free to start talking anytime now."
"Yes," the assassin answered. He uncoiled back up to his feet in one silken motion. "You proved a most interesting distraction for them. I am assuming this means you wish to speak to me?"
Shepard slouched back on the bench and absently watched while Tali coaxed some stubborn coil of wiring with both hands. Ilium, she thought. Beautiful and opulent and seething just as badly as any another shithole in the galaxy. And Liara knew the way its cesspit of a society worked, knew who to talk to and when and how much to charge and who to call upon for muscle.
"Shepard?"
"Sorry, Tali. Did you say something?"
"You're sure you're alright?"
"Yeah. Just thinking. I should probably stop."
The wind blew the snow in huge buffeting gusts against the high windows. Shepard pressed her gloved hand against the glass and stared out at the whirling whiteness.
"Shepard," Garrus said, wryly. "You always bring us to the nicest places."
"Don't you forget it." She turned, and when she saw Liara's face pinched into a frown, she caught the asari's wrist. "Hey. You okay?"
"Yes." Hurriedly, Liara nodded. "I just…it is a long way to this peak. And the weather is terrible."
And her mother was waiting for her, and Shepard could see the anxious fear in her face and in the rigid line of her shoulders. "We'll be fine," she said firmly. "The Mako handles well. Even when I drive it."
Liara's mouth curved up into a slow smile. "Of course it does."
But outside, the snow and the wind battered and hammered at the Mako until they slowed it to a labouring crawl. The hairpin bends of the mountain road proved treacherous and banked high with snow, and by the time Shepard saw the lights of the Peak 15 research base, her fingers were stiff inside her gloves and her breath came short and shallow.
And inside – oh, she remembered – inside had been the creatures that dropped out of the icy darkness, all teeth and wriggling limbs and ferociously fast.
"Thinking about what?" Tali asked, her back still turned.
"Noveria."
"Noveria was horrible."
"Yeah. Also cold."
"Garrus said you'd run into Liara today."
"Yeah." Shepard swung her feet onto the floor. She gazed at the slope of Tali's shoulders and added, "She's all grown up."
"That bothers you?"
"No." She sighed. "Yeah. It does, and I don't know why, which pisses me off even more. Two years – more – it's a long time." She scrubbed both hands through her hair. "So. You fixed my ship yet?"
"Getting there," Tali said archly.
Across the room, the door whooshed open, and when Garrus' hulking shape filled the frame, Shepard grinned. "Trouble?"
"Yeah, a whole contingent of Reapers."
"Nice. Is Krios alright?"
"Yeah. He's quiet. I think he'll be useful."
"You're that astute?"
"Sometimes," he shot back at her. "You're going back down tomorrow?"
"For the Justicar? Yeah. If you behave you can come along too."
He bared his teeth in a quick smile. "It'll be the highlight of my day, I'm sure."
"Like you've got anything better to do."
"Alright," Tali said, and leaned past the turian. She unhooked a wall panel, and firmly guided him out of the way. "You're both cluttering my deck."
"You know," Shepard said, as she pushed herself properly upright. "I'm almost certain you can't order me around."
"Down here I can," Tali said mildly.
"Fair enough," she answered, and smiled. "Come on, Vakarian. Let's leave the genius to her work."
The treadmill pedals thudded and thunked in a steady, measured rhythm. Shepard wrapped sweat-slick palms around the handgrip and pushed on faster. The backs of her calf muscles tightened in response, and she gritted her teeth.
"I think it's winning," Garrus remarked, from where he sat against the far wall.
"Not yet it isn't," she told him between hitching breaths. "Five more minutes."
Fifteen minutes later, she stumbled away from the treadmill. The grey sleeveless top she always worked out in was sticking to her shoulders, and her lips tasted of sweat and weariness and the possibility that she might sleep.
"Soundly defeated?"
"Yeah," she said, and grinned. She tugged two sparring pads from the wall rack and tossed them across to him. "Now it's your turn."
"Windows, bridges, getting the crap kicked out of me by my CO," Garrus muttered. Gracefully, he straightened up. He slid his hands through the straps, yanked them taut with his teeth. "Why do I put up with this?"
"Because deep down you think it's a fantastic way to spend the day." She eased her posture slightly, bracing her weight forward.
"Something like that." He shifted, raising his arms and tilting his palms slightly. "Anything special?"
"No," she answered, almost thoughtfully. "I think I just want to hit them."
He laughed, and when she saw his stance tighten, she launched herself. It was simple and methodical and each punch landed squarely until her shoulders ached. She slowed her pace, and when she circled him, he moved with her.
"So," she said, and drove another flurry of blows at him. "After we go get ourselves a Justicar, we can start working on the Collectors. Properly."
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking," she said, and slammed her fist into the left pad. The soft, spongy material gave beneath her clenched fingers. "Our employer probably knows a little more than he's letting on."
"Yeah. Wait until your team is ready, and then drip-feed us some more handy honesty?"
"Yeah." She spun, and he matched her, lifting his hands to meet her next strike. "Yeah," she said again. "That's exactly what I think. I mean, I know he's got helpful little informers sidling all over the galaxy, but his timing is way too good."
"You're an investment," Garrus said mildly, and stepped back. "Can't have you getting dragged off by Collectors until everyone's ready."
Shepard glided into the space between them, and the follow-up blow was hard enough to make her wince. "Good point." She rolled her wrist, grimaced, and added, "I surrender."
"Good. My hands were getting numb."
She laughed, and it was half a tired gasp. Gracelessly, she sank onto the bench and caught the small towel he threw at her. She mopped at her face and the sides of her arms. "You know what it took me far too long to learn?"
"Reading? Counting?" He tilted his head back against the wall and added, "I might need some context here."
"Funny." She scrubbed the towel through her hair. "I think growing up I breathed more shipboard air than real air until I was eighteen. Then when I finished basic, it took a fair while before I was posted planetside anywhere. First combat assignment on the ground, my God. I thought I was crippled. It's not the same as being run ragged in a shipboard gym."
His blue eyes softened. "But it keeps you busy."
Keeps you busy and focused on the next step, the next punch, the next twinging burn of exertion. Small steps that could be counted, each repeated motion controlled. It was simpler, somehow, pared down to measured breaths and the bite of sweat at the corners of her eyes, and the knowledge that the only boundary was herself and how long and how far she might push herself. Anger and frustration and the insidious sting of fear, pushed back and held at bay and she knew that he did it as well, throwing himself into sparring and training. A ship was a strange place, she thought, sometimes too small and sometimes too big and sometimes you just had to do something.
"Yeah," she said. "It does." She shifted, and realised that her shoulders were clammy, grey fabric pulling against her skin. "Reckon our next pick-up will be simple?"
"Simple like when you had to get a krogan in a tank onto the ship, or simple like when that bare-faced bastard of a prison warden decided to sell you?"
"You always see the good in things, don't you?" She smirked, and forced herself off the bench and upright.
"You know I do."
Shepard made it halfway across the floor, the towel slung over one shoulder, before she turned. "Hey, Garrus?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," she said.
He paused, his hands folded over his belt, and his gaze on hers. "Yeah." His face shifted into that softer expression that she recognized as a smile, slightly uncertain. "I mean, you're welcome."
Shepard dug her fingertips into the towel. She was aware of the gulf of space between them, and the way the damp, sweat-spiked ends of her hair were pressing against her temples. "Good," she said, lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
