Chapter 7:

Palaven's Moon

Altakiril was a smaller planet than most, especially for a turian colony. Of course, that colony had grown into a city in and of itself, rivaling the largest of the Citadel's wards. The environment suffered little for the expansion, due to mass effect energy powering the city. Estivus Erax held the majority of the planet's economical resources, from asari strip clubs to multi-system banks, and everything in between. Goir Namis began his business owning career here as the owner of a bar in downtown Estivus. Unfortunately, the expenses for such an endeavor proved to be too much for him, so he took to weapon smuggling. He used the contacts he'd gathered to sneak weapons and upgrades under the noses of the galaxy's many governments. It paid the bills for his bar, but it came with the risk of being caught.

About a month ago, a human came into his bar, asking for his "other" services. Apparently, the rifle he was using was in need of some extensive modification, not the least of which was making it more powerful. To achieve this, Namis looked to an old human sniper from the 21st century. Its power, when combined with the already-strong Mantis, gave the user almost four miles of distance for a clean kill. To accurately be able to shoot that distance, the scope also had to be modified, retrofit with tech upgrades not yet available on the military market. The heating/cooling system also had to be upgraded to avoid overheating, which the power made almost impossible to fire off a single shot. To this end, he turned to another prototype: thermal clips. Designed to catch heat and allow for faster shooting, the clips could be ejected and inserted into a slot by the butt of the rifle. Normally, it could put an extra four shots on a Mantis rifle before having to be ejected. With the upgrade, only one could be managed. But one was enough, according to the client.

In exchange for his services, the person offered for his group, a human organization known as Cerberus, to protect him and his investment. Namis had heard of Cerberus before, and he knew this was an offer he couldn't refuse, as much as he wanted to. Dealing with Cerberus wasn't going to do anything but increase his risk of being caught, not to mention Cerberus "convincing" him to do more work for them. But, he didn't have much say in the matter. Oh, well. At least business was good.


Callus shook his head angrily. "No way. Not a chance in hell."

Captain Foster glared at him. "I missed the part where I died and made you captain of this ship, Turian."

"You're not keeping me cooped up in this damn ship while the assassin's still out there."

Shepard sighed. Captain Foster had already set up the away team for Estivus, consisting of Shepard, Riley (much to both his and Shepard's chagrin), and O'Brien. Anderson had offered to go, but Foster said to "let the grunts handle it". Truth be told, Shepard wasn't looking forward to going down to Altakiril. Turian colonies were less than welcoming to humans, and coming across one as remote as Atakiril meant xenophobia would be higher than normal. Which was exactly why Callus was needed for this mission. "Callus can keep the local population calm, letting us find and interrogate Namis without too much incident."

Foster now turned his glare to Shepard. "This isn't your mission, Shepard. I'm the captain of this ship and-."

"And I'm the highest ranking officer on the away team. It's my decision to make," Shepard interrupted. Then, he quickly added, "Sir."

Foster looked as though he wanted to space him then and there. Anderson looked afraid that that was exactly what would happen. Callus looked simply stunned. Shepard just kept eye contact with Foster, hoping he didn't look too forceful or too apologetic. To the surprise of everyone, Foster suddenly laughed. "Goddamn, kid. You're a ballsy son of a bitch, aren't you?" Shepard still didn't breathe, waiting to hear what the captain was going to say next. "Alright, Lieutenant. We'll do it your way."

Shepard finally let out a breath. "Yes, sir."

"Orion, get suited up. You'll replace Riley on this mission."

Riley grinned, pleased to not be going on what he considered to be a fool's errand.

Callus merely nodded, making no other attempts to show his approval. "Understood, Captain."

"We'll be landing in ten minutes. I want you three off my ship in fifteen."


Estivus Erax was as busy as London, though not quite as compressed. Shops, banks, casinos, and the like lined the streets, where Shepard, Callus, and O'Brien hurried through before the rain began pouring down. Shepard checked his omni-tool. "Intel says Namis owns a bar on this street. Palaven's Moon. We're to get in, interrogate Namis, and get out."

"What about Namis?" Callus asked. Shepard looked over at him. He knew exactly what he was asking.

"What about him?" Shepard asked rhetorically. Callus nodded, understanding.

As the team reached the bar, the bouncer out front held up his hand. "No humans allowed," he said bluntly.

Callus stepped forward. "They're with me," he replied.

"Doesn't matter. You can go in, but they have to stay out here. Boss's rules." Shepard felt as though even if the boss hadn't made the rule, this one would still enforce it.

Callus nodded, trying not to let his annoyance show. "Alright," he consented. Then he turned to Shepard and O'Brien. "I'll head in and deal with this. You two stay out here and watch my back."

Shepard nodded. "We'll keep an eye out."

Callus slipped past the bouncer and went inside. It was definitely busy, clients all across the floor. In the VIP area, there were more luxurious types, being entertained by their "host". Of course, in a bar like this, "luxurious" was a very loose word. Callus made his way over to the VIP section, but another bouncer stood in his way. "Password?" he grunted.

"Turian military. Fuck off."

The bouncer looked unimpressed. "Name one turian who wasn't in the military. Doesn't get you VIP rights."

Callus' eyes narrowed. He grabbed the smart-mouthed bouncer and pulled him close, gritting his teeth. "I'm the son of Ambassador Dhalen Orion. I'm investigating his assassination, and you're in my way. Do you want me to explain what happens to people who get in my way?"

He definitely had the bouncer's attention now. "N-no sir," he stammered. "Go on in."

"I'm gonna need a little privacy with," he looked at his target, "Mr. Namis."

"Of course." The bouncer moved quickly to Namis and whispered in his ear. A moment later, he announced that the party was over, and the VIP area was to be cleared out immediately. He then waved for Callus to join him.

As soon as Callus was close enough, Namis threw his arms around him in a brotherly hug. "Orion!" he exclaimed, clearly happy to see him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Callus smiled. One thing he "forgot" to mention was that he and Goir were childhood friends, even joining the military together, though Goir left as soon as his service term had ended. "What, I can't see an old friend?" he asked, returning Goir's gesture.

Goir smiled knowingly. "Nice try. But I know a determined look when I see one. You want something, don't you?"

"More along the lines of 'need'."

Goir frowned for a moment, but then let out a sharp laugh and slapped Callus on the back. "Anything for an old friend, right?" He motioned to a seat and sat down across the small table. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I'm investigating my father's death."

"Ah, yes. I heard about that. Terrible business, terrible business. What do you need from me?"

"We found the rifle used to kill him." Goir's look suddenly hardened. Callus took note of this and pressed the issue. "Intel says it was modified. By you."

Goir stopped for a moment, thinking about Callus' accusation. He played it off with a smile. "What makes you think I had anything to do with that?" he asked, fighting to keep his composure. Underneath the table, he activated his omni-tool.

"The rifle used was powerful, ten times more powerful than any weapon currently in active service. And black market weapons are only fives time better. The only person who can make this kind of modification is you, am I right?"

Goir forced a smile. "I'm afraid not, Callus. I haven't modified anything in, oh… three months? Business has been horribly slow. How are you so sure it was me?"

Callus' face hardened, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "You just told me." He stood up quickly, drawing his pistol and holding it against Namis' head. At once, the guards of the bar aimed their weapons at him, yelling for him to drop the gun. Goir held his hands up, fear evident on his face. "I want a name, Namis," Callus said, tightening his grip on the pistol.

To his surprise, Namis only smiled. "That's not going to happen."

Callus felt a blinding pain in the back of his head fell to the floor, unconscious.

Author's Note: I was a bit unhappy with the Shepard/Foster moment. I wasn't sure if I made Foster react the right way. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them, either in a review or a PM. I'm also gonna start doubling my efforts on this story, as there's still a long ways to go. I'll try to get at least one up per week. Anyways, please review, favorite (if you like it, of course), and help spread it around!