-o-O-o-
Chapter Eight
Security Chief Hanaya Silva looked over the gallery railing, affording a view of the large foyer that welcomed those who had need to dock. The Carousel space station, was a little busier than usual. The large asari-built research platform was primarily the building yard for their most advanced ships yet, and they currently had a small fleet's worth of vessels in mid-construction.
Like the turians, salarians and humans, this was one of several built specifically between prime mining sites for easier and faster access to the resources nearby, negating the need to transport minerals all the way back to their home planets.
They also served as fuelling stations, and the Alliance ship Bayonne was docked for just that, its crew taking the chance to stretch their legs and check out what parts of the station they were allowed to explore.
Hanaya watched some of those loitering below with an unease that surprised her. These were Alliance soldiers. Allies. Yet there was something that didn't sit right, and she couldn't relax.
"What's wrong?"
Sparing nothing more than a glance at her second-in-command, Hanaya returned to her watch. "They don't seem as…professional…as I had expected." Yes, that was it. There was a laziness in their postures, and their demeanours weren't as polished as those she'd met before.
"They're probably new. The humans are as busy recruiting as we are. Everyone's in a rush to get troops out before mercs become a nuisance. Training's probably focused more on making sure they know how to fire a gun than how to conduct themselves."
Hanaya saw one of them leer once more at a couple of her people as they passed by, and it made her uncomfortable.
"Chief, the Alliance ship's re-fuelled."
"Good. Get them on their way," she responded to Station Control.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"So much for our hospitality," smirked her second.
"I'll live with it."
Fifteen long minutes passed before she watched the Bayonne finally leaving.
"Want to join me for a drink?" breathed out Hanaya. "I feel like I need one."
"Sure."
By the time the two of them had descended from the gallery to the floor below, the first explosion rocked the station.
"What the hell's that!? Get me a damage report!" yelled Hanaya, and the Alliance ship immediately, and unjustifiably, came to mind.
"Internal!" informed her second, who had scurried over to the nearest terminal. "Localised! But it doesn't make sense! There's nothing in that sector that could blow!"
Hanaya didn't have time to contemplate what that meant before the answer became all too clear as one after another, more explosions began to tear apart the station around them. Bombs.
-o-O-o-
Kaidan was buzzing a little from the alcohol in his system. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself to drink this much, and it created a horrible crawling in his chest as he began associating the feeling with that time he'd drank himself into oblivion in order to deal – or rather not deal – with Terra's death after the SR-1 went down.
As good as this night had been, as much as he had laughed as they reminisced, Kaidan's heart wasn't there with them. The past was gone - the journey he'd taken to get to where he was, full of lessons he'd hopefully learned from - and only the present and future mattered. He wanted to go home. In fact, Kaidan felt an inordinate need to be with Terra, and he wanted to be there now.
"Guys, this has been really great, but I think I'm done for the night." Slinging back the last mouthful from his glass, Kaidan stood up.
"Aww! Come on! Kaidan! The night's still young!" reasoned Berkov, and though he was seated the man still looked like he might fall over, he was so inebriated.
"I know, but I should be going."
"You gotta stay for one last drink, at least," reasoned Roque. "So we can make a toast!"
As if reading Roque's mind, a batarian appeared with a tray of shot glasses. "Compliments of the house. It's an honour to have you visit our establishment, Spectre Alenko."
"Uh, thanks," Kaidan said, accepting the glass he was handed.
"We always welcome the Alliance, too," added the batarian, who passed a glass to Rissa, then offered the tray out for the others to take their own.
"Sweet," grinned Berkov. "Definitely doing this again, Kaid, buddy. I've never gotten a free drink before," he raved, before knocking his over as his dulled senses failed to send his hand to the right place. "Ah, shit."
The rest of them laughed.
"It's probably for the best," said Rissa. "You're going to be puking your guts out tonight as it is."
Roque stood and lifted his glass, and Yanson and Rissa followed suit while Kaidan helped Berkov to his unsteady feet. "It's a damned miracle we're still here, and that's thanks to you and your wife, Alenko. So cheers to you both. Without you, tonight couldn't have happened, and it's been a good one."
"And to those who didn't make it," said Kaidan, attempting to take the focus off him. "They were in our thoughts."
"To old comrades," nodded Rissa.
"To us lucky bastards," added Yanson. "And may we still be around to do it again."
"Yeah. What you all said," agreed Berkov, promptly falling back into his seat as the rest of them downed their shots in one and instantly started coughing as the strong liquid burned its way down their gullets.
"Damn!" winced Kaidan. "What the hell was that!?"
"I dunno, but it was wicked stuff," grimaced Yanson.
Kaidan could already feel it affecting his head.
"Okay, that's done it for me," announced Rissa, her face now in a serious frown. "It's messing with my head, whatever it is." As if to prove it, she wavered on her feet and Kaidan gripped her arm to steady her even as his own head spun.
"Me too," Kaidan said. "You guys staying?"
"I'm going to see if I can't get some caffeine into this fool here," Roque gestured at Berkov, who now had his head tipped back as he dozed. "Might need some myself after that. Until next time, take care of yourselves."
Yanson nodded that he was going too, and the three of them meandered out.
Exiting the club was like inhaling fresh air that brought a wonderful quiet and calm with it. Not that Kaidan could fully appreciate it right now. Yanson wordlessly waved goodbye as he went off down a passageway in the opposite direction, and Kaidan and Rissa made their way towards the cabs.
"Shit, Kaidan. I feel really weird."
"Ditto." His vision was going and Kaidan quickly got to a low wall and slumped against it, just so he could close his eyes for a bit. He felt Rissa's hand on his shoulder.
"You gonna be alright?"
"Yeah, I'll, uh… I'll just sit here for a bit. Wait for my head to clear. You should probably do the same."
"Sounds sensible, but I think maybe I'll try and walk it off. I'm definitely not fit to drive, and my hotel's not too far away."
"Then I'll walk you." Even as he said it, Kaidan wondered if he could actually walk at all.
Rissa gave a soft laugh. "Always were the gentleman. I missed that. Okay. We can stumble through the wards together."
Then she made an 'oof' sound, and there was a scuffling. Opening his eyes, Kaidan tried to focus, alarmed to see she wasn't there. He clambered back to his feet, but then Rissa appeared from his right.
"You okay?" Kaidan checked, though his own vision spiralled nauseatingly.
"I was sick. Feeling better now."
Though she was only next to him, Rissa's voice sounded far away and a little disjointed. Kaidan managed a half-laugh. "I'm actually jealous," he mumbled. He expected her to laugh too, but there was no response. Though his eyes felt incredibly heavy, he tilted his head to the side to see Rissa staring at him blankly.
"Let's go," she said, lifting his arm over her head so it rested across her shoulders, and her arm went to his waist to support him.
Kaidan wasn't so sure who was helping who home now, and their first steps were staggered at best, but they somehow got into a rhythm. Yet Kaidan still struggled to keep his eyes open, and as he trailed down a corridor, arm in arm with Rissa, he chastised himself for having that last drink when all he'd wanted was to get home to Terra.
-o-O-o-
Jorgal Thurak was stood in a dug-out, watching the arrival of the female, Bakara, through his scope. The heat from Tuchanka's sun was strong enough to make his hump feel like it could melt, and it irritated him as much as Urdnot's existence.
"You said that Wrex would bring the war to us," grumbled his brood brother, Thug.
"Seems Urdnot's king has lost his quad. Should have known. He's no real krogan. Not anymore." Thurak lowered the scope now he was sure that Wrex was not present. "Like the ambassador, he's nothing more than a varren on the aliens' leash."
Having seen enough, Thurak made his way out of the trench, eager to get back to the cool of the waiting tomkah. There weren't many living things that ventured out during the hottest part of the day, for good reason, and as Thurak passed the green foliage that was becoming more abundant now the females cared enough to nurture it, he was further aggravated that the plants could thrive without withering in this heat, where he couldn't. It was a weakness, and Thurak stopped outside the tomkah, deliberately enduring the intensity while he waited for Thug to catch up. It was a display of his superiority to the younger krogan who barrelled inside the vehicle with his head bowed submissively. When Thurak did step in, it was unhurried, and he refused to welcome the shade. He was a true krogan.
Once the hatch was slammed shut, the tomkah began forging its way back to Jorgal territory.
"So what now?"
"Now we use our back-up plan," said Thurak. "Urdnot's leaderless."
"The female-" Thug broke off under Thurak's challenging glare.
"Females cannot lead clans. They only serve as breeders."
"The tank-bred stands in Wrex's stead."
Thurak gave a snort of derision. "Who would follow a tank-bred when a better candidate's put forth? And we have that." He could almost taste the blood of battle dawning of them. "Prepare our clan. We move soon."
-o-O-o-
Shepard had finally regained feeling in her body, but her hands had been cuffed behind her back; her omnitool and blade removed. She lay on her side, staring up at her balcony, drained of emotion. Every now and then a shudder emanated from deep within her, before subsiding for a while until the next, like her body was forcing her to acknowledge the shock and grief her mind was resisting.
More batarians had entered her apartment, dealing with the bodies of those she'd killed, while the ones she'd knocked out with their own tranquiliser now scowled at her as they helped remove any sign of the altercation that had taken place here. She should have wondered why, but Shepard was having trouble caring about anything but the vacant space inside her.
Nate…. She wanted to reach out and touch that sweet mind she'd been granted the honour of sharing, but she couldn't face being met with nothing but…nothing.
Kaidan had been gone too long as well. She'd urged him to go and enjoy himself, but she knew he'd have been home hours ago if he had been able to. She hoped she was wrong. She hoped he was still enjoying the opportunity to reunite with old friends and had gotten absolutely drunk while doing it.
That was the image she tried to maintain: Kaidan stumbling back from the bar, arm in arm with an old mate, laughing as they went. And Nate…. Nate was asleep in his bed…. She suppressed the sob. That last one she couldn't hold on to.
"All done."
The leader nodded at his lackey. "Slave!" he shouted out, and the woman hurried down from where she'd been sitting on the stairs, and bowed in front of him. "You know what I want from you next. This will be your most important role yet. Mess it up and I will string up every one of your offspring and torture them for the rest of their days. Now go do what you need to." He flicked his hand in dismissal, and the female humanoid instantly moved away and knelt in front of Shepard.
From this close, Shepard could see the desolation in the woman's silver eyes, set in a face that was not used to seeing such atrocity. Whatever race she was, she had endured horrors not akin to her way of life. Her hands trembled as they rose to Shepard's face, who noticed that her central fingers were fused just like a drell's, and they rested gently at either side of Shepard's head. Then the woman lowered her own face, closing her eyes as she placed her forehead to Shepard's in a way that felt oddly intimate.
There was a caressing warmth and Shepard could feel this being accessing her mind, yet she felt no force. It was so gentle and apologetic it surprised Shepard, and she had no instinct to deny her.
Before her eyes, the woman's face began transforming, but not in shape. She was the same beneath, but her skin took on the image of Shepard herself. It was an illusion, like a chameleon, but instead of the skin blending into the environment – which she now understood it could also do - it was mimicking what the being's mind saw. But this humanoid could do more than that: she could use Shepard's memories – accessed through touch - to recreate a person's demeanour and voice. This woman was remarkable, and in the hands of these batarians she was the perfect tool to gain access to anyone they wished.
Shanti. It was whispered to Shepard like knowledge re-surfacing. Shanti was the name of the race. Then other thoughts and images attached themselves to that name, building up a picture of a people who were at one with the natural environment in which they lived, who harmed nothing, nor took any more than was offered by the trees that dropped their fruits. What Shepard was being given was like the prothean cipher – an understanding of a culture so basic there was no hint of anything close to technology.
Then Shepard was offered a memory that was not her own – no feelings were attached, purely the scene as it unfolded through the eyes of this woman – and Shepard nearly pushed it away as she realised it was what happened to Nate. But there was only a soft assurance in response, and trusting that, Shepard allowed it in.
Rushing down the hall to Nate's room, she touches his mind, lulling him to sleep and placing him inside the closet, safe. She grabs a baby doll she had noticed during her many times within the apartment – so life-like – and places it in the cot. Hearing one of the masters strolling in, she grasps up a pillow from the bed and presses it over the plastic face. A master is there, breathing over her, looking down. She thinks he's going to lift the pillow, but he sees the foot sticking out from the edge of the blanket – unmoving – and he chuckles as he leaves the room.
Shepard was so overcome with relief that she couldn't stop the tears. Nate was alive, upstairs asleep in his hidden place. Tentatively, Shepard reached out with her mind and found that beautiful, slumbering mind, careful not to stir him, then left him so she could send a thank you to this woman who had risked so much for her son. The batarians may have thought they'd broken this being's mind, but there was something that still held strong.
Shepard reached out, needing to know this woman's name.
Zaliesh.
Then Zaliesh was leaving just as gently as she had entered, leaving behind a feeling that Shepard could only equate to a mental hug. The Shanti were a beautiful, innocent people, and it angered Shepard that the batarians would use them like this.
Someone had switched on the screen in the rear lounge, and the news began streaming into the apartment with a surreal normality.
"Wait for the news, then go where I showed you earlier," ordered the leader, prompting an immediate nod from Zaliesh, wearing Shepard's face. It lent another dreamlike quality to the moment, but Shepard tried not to dwell on it – what was about to come on the news? "Take this when it's time." The batarian grinned as he handed Zaliesh a pill. "It'll put a little aggression in you. Remember: you're going to be watched, so make it good. They'll put you in a cell. Say nothing. Give it a few hours and then get out and to the ship. Understood?"
Another nod from Zaliesh, eyes down, but the batarian lead grabbed her face and made her look at him.
"Don't think about making a bid for freedom. You don't turn up and your children will die," he warned. Then he gestured up the stairs. "Go put on a uniform."
With one last look at her, Zaliesh disappeared up the stairs, and Shepard was left wondering what the hell they were planning to do with her lookalike that would get 'her' arrested.
"Let's get you to your transportation," the leader sneered.
There was another sting at her neck, and once again she was left detached from her body – they couldn't have her attempting to escape or garner attention.
As she was hauled upright and towards the door, Shepard's eyes went to where her son was, knowing Zaliesh would care for him for as long as she could. The woman was stationary on the balcony, a mirror image, looking forlorn and in need of aid. But Shepard had seen something that could prevail through all this.
Whatever happened next, Shepard wouldn't break either.
-o-O-o-
