Deus Ex Machina

9. Toys

The C-Sec files on the datapad in front of Eloise were like Goldilocks' porridge; one was hot, one was cold, and the other was in between. She'd requested them from Executor Pallin an hour earlier, and faced with a direct request from a Spectre, he'd been forced to comply, releasing files that would otherwise have been kept confidential.

The first, with not much information in it, was Tali'Zorah's, and they matched the young woman's description of her arrival on the station. Quarians were often seen as opportunistic scavengers, reappropriating other peoples junk and turning it into useful materials. They weren't trusted much by the Council, and the report reflected that. They'd questioned her for several hours about her purpose on the station, which in itself was almost a breach of law as Tali hadn't actually done anything wrong, and then finally been forced to let her go.

For a moment, Ellie ceased to be Commander Eloise Shepard, and instead became the impromptu psychological profiler that the N7 programme had taught her to be, assessing what she knew and could deduce about the quarian. Out of everybody on the ship, Tali was the hardest individual to read, at least physically. A lot could be seen in a face; in facial features you could see anger, hatred, fear, arrogance, composure, compassion, and a whole range of other emotions. This held true for most bipedal humanoids; but the quarian masks, designed to protect their wearers, also shielded their faces from view.

That, in itself, was suggestive of a desire for secrecy. It would have been simple for the quarians to construct clear face masks for their suits, had they wished. The material of the masks was not much different than the visor of her helmet. Introduction of a dye during construction gave a visor a tint, giving the wearer protection against bright light, or filtering out various wavelengths of light. Instead of allowing others to see their faces, however, the quarians hid themselves. Was it for cultural or religious beliefs? Was it a social or political statement? Or were they quarians simply paranoid about their privacy?

Another way of assessing an individual was by listening to their tone of voice, to the stresses and inflections. This was not as accurate as facial-reading; a voice could be altered to give false impressions. A marine commander under fire with his troops, for example, would always sound confident no matter how afraid he felt. As people aged, they learnt to control their voices more and more, to convey what they wanted to consciously express, not what they sub-consciously felt.

Body language was the hardest aspect to read, but it was also the hardest for a subject to control. A face could be schooled to stillness and the voice carefully controlled, but hidden emotions often found a way of manifesting themselves through the body. Small, repetitive movements could indicate nervousness. Arms folded across a chest were indicative of defensiveness. Tension could be seen in taut muscle or a hunched back. The way a person stood could invite an attack or a sexual advance.

The impression that Eloise got of Tali was that the quarian was a very intelligent but inexperienced young woman. She could be defensive at times, especially when discussing her people's history with the geth, but she also seemed very determined to succeed. She was confident in her own skills and abilities, but wary around strangers. All of this was in-keeping with what Tali had told her about life on the Flotilla, about quarian pilgrimages and the geth.

The next file belonged to Wrex, and it spanned several centuries; the krogan was no youngling, it seemed. He'd been to the Citadel several times over the past few hundred years, but not much was known about him. He was a mercenary - as most krogans were - but tended to work on his own or with small groups, rather than with one of the established mercenary companies. As far as C-Sec could tell, he mainly came to the Citadel to look for work. Sometimes that work would be nothing more than escorting goods or providing cover as a bodyguard. Other times, the work involved tracking somebody down, and sometimes eliminating his target. Usually, the latter happened outside of Citadel space, and was therefore out of C-Sec's jurisdiction. Wrex was usually careful to avoid breaking rules within Citadel space. The exception was Fist, but at the request of the newest Spectre, the C-Sec investigation into his death had been dropped.

That was the extent of the record. Again, Ellie considered what she had learnt about Wrex. Krogans didn't seem to use body language to the same extent that humans did. Instead, strength was conveyed through physical aspects; the size of one's body, the strength of one's muscles. These spoke, on a primitive level, of overall health and strength. There was no need for krogan body language to portray this; like the size of antlers on deer, it was immediately obvious to other members of the species who was the biggest and strongest.

Compared to humans, the krogan vocal range appeared more limited. Tone and inflection conveyed less than language, and facial expression seemed also quite limited. All in all, Wrex was an imposing, somewhat intimidating figure. His body was large and his bulk was almost all pure muscle. He was more massive than her by far, and could probably crush her body easily, if he chose. His head was wide, with a large mouth full of small, sharp teeth. His red eyes were large, with cat-like pupils. A large, claw-like scar ran across his face, from the red crest of his head to the right side of his neck. A handful of smaller scares peppered his skin, showing that he was a veteran of combat. Krogans, she knew, displayed their scars with pride, as evidence of their physical prowess. A krogan with scars was experienced; one without scars was considered cowardly.

Wrex himself did not seem like a typically violent krogan, and she had to wonder how much of what she had learnt at Arcturus had been hearsay or propaganda. Every marine was taught that krogans were vicious and violent, without equal in combat. If you had to fight one, you kept your distance. You took him out at range, because if he closed with you, you were screwed. A krogan could overwhelm any individual in close combat, with th exception of another krogan. Most of them were hired for their brute strength, but since Wrex had agreed to help her, he'd shown that he could be cunning as well as strong. Whether he was a typical krogan or an exception to the rule, she had yet to discover.

The last C-Sec file read more like a military personnel file than a security report. In effect, that's what it was; Garrus' C-Sec file, with as much info in it as any Systems Alliance record. All the data was there, ranging from his family history to his seven year military service, to his six year career at C-Sec. Included in the latter was details of the cases he had worked on, the evidence he had gathered, the witnesses he had spoken to. Every caution and commendation was listed, and they painted a marbled picture.

Executor Pallin had noted that, at times, Garrus' reach exceeded his grasp. His youthful exuberance and optimism had, over the years, given way to irritation and impatience at the way the justice system worked. It was what Doctor Kay had termed 'Dreamer's Syndrome' - those who strove to make a situation better or to right a wrong, often became bitter and cynical when their actions ultimately had no effect. It was the equivalent of destroying someone's dreams and taking away their hope, Kay had said. Everybody walked a fine line between aspiration and realism, and those whose aspirations exceeded realistic expectations often struggled to accept reality.

Eloise was emphatically not a dreamer. There was no time for sitting around dreaming of a better life in the orphanage. Dreaming of a better life whilst in a gang was likely to get you killed. In her eyes, there was no 'greater good'. There were only small acts of goodness that could build on each other. She believed in the Alliance, she believed in helping people, but she wasn't naive enough to believe that humanity deserved a place on the Council simply because it existed, nor did she believe that humans were better than other races. She had seen the worst that humanity had to offer; she had seen humans murder and exploit other humans, and now she fought against such things.

Garrus' file matched up with what she had deduced about him so far. He was dedicated to righting injustice, falling just shy of obsession. He spoke only, and his body language matched his verbal cues. Compared to humans, turians conveyed slightly more through their voices than their facial expressions - most likely because facial expression was limited due to their hard, protective facial masks. Like Nihlus, the most expressive part of Garrus' face were his eyes, which always seemed to be watching and assessing.

She would have to handle the former C-Sec officer carefully, she realised. The hope and belief that he had once had in the justice system, he had now transferred to her, believing that she would be able to get justice done. Such pedestals were dangerous things to be placed upon; when somebody put their hope in you, failing to meet their expectations could break them, as she had been broken many years ago by Akuze.

A separate datapad held information that was both vital and useless to her. It was the Council's file on Saren. From it she had learnt that he had a family, had lost a brother in the First Contact War, often sacrificed others to achieve his goals as a Spectre... it was as much about him as he no doubt knew about her. But none of it was important. All it told her was who he had been. It didn't tell her why he was working with the geth, or why he was trying to bring the Reapers back, or even how he had learnt about them. It was an interesting read, but nothing more.

The clock on her desk read 06:57, and she switched off the datapads and made her way to the CIC. There, the command-crew were finishing up their pre-flight checks, and looking remarkably sober. Pressly nodded to her as she passed, and she returned his greeting.

In the cockpit, Joker was prepping the engines and running last minute checks on the tantalus drive core. He barely acknowledged her as he worked, his fingers jumping from screen to screen as he ran various diagnostic tools.

"How does she handle?" Ellie asked.

"Most pilots would struggle compensating for the drive's power," he said nonchalantly. "Luckily, you have me. I can make the Normandy dance for you, Commander. Just don't ask me to do any dancing. This is your first time running a ship, right?"

"That's right."

"Standard procedure is to give the crew a pep talk before embarking on a new mission." He leant over to another console and indicated a button. "Here, the main comm. If you want to say anything, now's the time."

She nodded, and reached down to press the button, wishing she was better at on-the-fly speeches. Public speaking had never been her forté. But, if Anderson was right, the eyes of the galaxy would be on her now. She had to get used to the attention.

"All hands," she said, aiming for casual confidence, "this is Commander Shepard. In a few moments we'll be departing the Citadel, and I don't know how long we'll be gone for. As far as the Council's concerned, we're going to track down and stop a rogue Spectre. But we know better. Our ultimate goal is to find a way to prevent the Reapers from returning. Nobody else believes they're real. Nobody else understands the threat that they pose. It's up to us to do the impossible; it's up to us to save not just humanity, but every race in the galaxy. You're all here because you're the best. Captain Anderson chose every one of us for this, and it's up to us to make him proud. We're going to be alone out there, with no support. All we have is each other. Let's make every moment count."

She released the button and stood up, taking a deep breath.

"How was that?" she asked.

"Do you do weddings, too?"

"Funny. Take us out of here, Joker. Put us on a heading for the Artemis Tau Cluster."

"Aye aye, Commander. Releasing docking clamps. Forward thrusters powering up. Main drive core engaged."

She left him too it and returned to the command information centre, which was abuzz with activity. Computer screens at every terminal were active, flashing up numbers and statistics on everything from engine data to sensor information. The crew monitored everything from navigation to LADAR, analysing data as it appeared on their displays.

"Good speech, Commander," Pressly said, saluting her. "The Captain would be proud. It's a damn shame what they did to him, if you don't mind me saying."

"I know. I don't like it either. But we have a job to do."

"Aye, Commander. We've set a course for the Artemis Tau Cluster, ETA is three hours."

"In the mean time, I'll be down in the cargo hold. I have something to do; please advise me when we reach our destination."

"Yes ma'am," said Pressly, and she made her way to the elevator.

o - o - o - o - o

The cargo hold turned out to be something of a congregational area. Williams was cleaning rifles, Kaidan was talking quietly with the requisitions officer, and Wrex and Garrus were milling around examining the Normandy's secondary systems. Ellie knew she was smiling as she strode towards the Mako and hauled herself up onto its hull, but she couldn't help it. She loved land vehicles in the same way that Joker loved ships. When she had been younger, and part of the Blood-dog Gang, she'd owned a bike, one that she had retro-fitted herself. It had been her pride and joy, built for speed, and her only regret about leaving the gang was that she'd had to leave her bike behind too.

The Mako, with its armoured exterior and six heavy wheels, was a far cry from her bike, but it was still something new for her to play with. She's already memorised the control schematics, and she couldn't wait to try it out. Lifting the access hatch, she peered inside, her stomach turning butterflies as she examined the controls. It still retained its new-vehicle smell; it was a smell that never failed to excite her. It spoke of something that had never been handled before, and was just waiting for somebody to come along and try it out. Had the garage been any larger, she would have started the engine up there and then.

"You know," said Williams, climbing up onto the side of the vehicle beside her, "from the look on your face, I could think this was your Christmas present."

"I can't help it," she smiled. "I love these things. When I get chance, I'll show you how to drive it if you like."

"That'd be great, Commander," said Williams.

"That's all we need. Women drivers," said Kaidan from the ground.

"Ignore him," Ellie said to Ashley. "We don't let Kaidan near vehicles. He once drove an ATV scout rover into a tree."

"That wasn't my fault. The tree appeared out of nowhere."

"Backwards."

"I didn't know the truck was in reverse."

"Consequently, he's not allowed to drive."

"Thanks, Commander. Now everybody knows the emasculating story of how I drove a rover into a tree," he said drily.

"Haha!" Wrex chuckled as he climbed onto the vehicle to peer inside it. "Doesn't look like it was built with krogans in mind, Shepard."

"Yeah... I don't think krogan comfort was part of the design spec. Anyway, we're a few hours out of Artemis Tau, and then we'll have to do a system by system search for the archaeological dig sit. Make yourselves at home, because we've got a long journey ahead of us."

"Aye, Commander," said Williams, returning to her weapons maintenance.

Ellie closed the Mako's hatch and jumped down to the floor. As much as she wanted to stay for the company, she knew her time would be better spent going over the files for Liara T'Soni. If the asari woman was helping her mother and Saren, then it was imperative that the Normandy find her. She just hoped that Liara T'Soni would come along peacefully.

o - o - o - o - o

Several marines were seated in the mess when Ellie arrived for lunch. For the better part of five hours she'd been staring at datapads, hoping to find some connection between Saren, Matriarch Benezia, Liara, the geth and the Reapers. She'd scoured the Council's historical archives for information about the Protheans, but there was surprisingly little available. Matriarch Benezia was a powerful figure in asari politics. Liara T'Soni was a quiet, withdrawn woman who shied away from the spotlight and had spent the past fifty years - almost half of her life - in remote areas, studying the Protheans with a passion.

There should be nothing to link either of them to Saren. There should be nothing to link Saren to the geth, or to the Reapers. The worst part was that she knew there was a link somewhere... but its nature eluded her. She had gone over Saren's record with a fine-toothed comb, reviewing what details about his missions were available. There was nothing to suggest contact with the Reapers or the geth. He'd obviously hidden it well from the Council. Finally, her mind had demanded a break, and she'd wandered down to the mess to find something to quiet her stomach.

She took a plate of something that she hoped was mashed potatoes, chicken, peas and gravy, from the cook, and settled herself at the furthest table from the marines. Even as she listened into their conversation about their previous nightly excursion to Flux, she turned her attention to her food, giving the men the illusion of privacy.

For a few minutes she ate and listened to the marines talk. They'd enjoyed Flux. One of them had spent an entire month's wages gambling with nothing to show for it. Another had spent an hour dancing with a very attractive asari, and wished he hadn't needed to be back at the ship so early. Another had won five arm-wrestling matches, only to eventually lose to a krogan.

"Shepard," said Wrex, sitting on the seat opposite her and plonking a tray of food on the table.

"Wrex," she replied.

"Why aren't you sitting with your people?"

"I'm not supposed to fraternise with those beneath my command. It's a military regulation."

"Huh. Sounds like a steaming pile of varren crap to me," he said, poking at the tray with a fork that, in his hand, seemed minute. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

"Various types of vegetables, meat from a bird called 'chicken', and the brown stuff, gravy, is... well, it's just gravy."

"Smells better than the last meal I had on the Citadel," he said. "Nobody caters for krogan. Even in the multi-cultural restaurants you get salarian food, which looks like it's been recently heaved up, asari food, which is just plain foul, or turian food, which is as likely to kill you. Haven't been to the Citadel since you humans started showing up, so I've yet to try your cuisine. Still, if it's got dead stuff in it, it can't be all that bad."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You said you met Saren before. Will you tell me about it?"

"Alright," he said with a shrug. "It was a while ago, a good few years maybe. I knew some mercs out near edge of the Terminus Systems who'd been getting paid well by an employer. I wanted in, so they offered to take me on the job."

"Saren was hiring mercs? That doesn't sound like something a Spectre would do," she said skeptically.

"Who knows what Spectres do? I don't. All I know is, I only saw him once, and I had a bad feeling about him right away. We'd captured a ship, and Saren boarded it. He just walked through the cargo bay, just looking around, ignoring the mercs who called out to him by name. I didn't know he was a Spectre, then. Wouldn't have known it at all, if I hadn't met you. There was something about him... his eyes were cold. Made my guts churn, and I've no shame in admitting it. I decided to get out of there right then, didn't even stick around to get paid."

"What kind of ship was it? And what was Saren looking for?"

"It was a volus freighter. No idea what he wanted with it... he didn't say a word. But my instincts were correct. Within a week, every damn merc who'd been on that job turned up dead. Except me. That's when I knew he was rotten to the core."

"Is that why you wanted to come along and help bring him down?"

"Partially. Truth is, I've been around a long time. Seen a lot, killed most of it. The mercenary life doesn't interest me anymore. I want to do something big. Something that makes a difference. Toyed with the idea of going back to Tuchanka and trying to unite some of the clans, but I don't think they're ready for that yet."

"To what end do you want to unite the clans?" she asked warily. The last time the krogan had been united was during the Krogan Rebellions; they had threatened the entire galaxy.

"We're a dying people, Shepard," said Wrex, and she detected strong undertones of sadness and regret in his voice.

"Because of the genophage?"

"Partially. The genophage makes breeding nearly impossible. It keeps our numbers down, but it's not what's killing us. We're too spread out. Nobody wants to stay in his own system anymore. We hire ourselves out as mercenaries, and most never look back. We need to work together, consolidate our people, let the strongest warriors mate with the few fertile females we have left. Some of my people believe that the ones who survive the genophage are strong. I look at some of the kids being churned out, and all I see is weakness."

"Do you hate the Council, for what they've done to your people?"

"I used to, when I was younger and angrier. Then I realised there's not much point in it. I could kill a hundred salarians or turians, but it wouldn't cure the genophage. I'll give you a piece of advice, though, if you want it."

"Of course," she said.

"Your people need to be careful. They need to watch their backs. You are now where we were once before. The Council... they'll use your people for their own agenda, but as soon as you start to achieve more power than them, they'll turn on you. Maybe in another hundred years, your people will be suffering a genophage of their own."

"They wouldn't do that," she said uncertainly. "Would they?"

"I dunno. You've met the Council. Do you think they're capable of it?"

She didn't reply. From what she'd seen, the Councillors had little love for humans. They'd treated the attack on Eden by the geth as nothing more than somebody else's inconvenience. Nihlus himself had said that the Council saw humans as children, who needed protecting from themselves. What if she stopped the Reapers, only to have the Council turn on her people?

Wrex had given her something new to think about, and she didn't like the thoughts that now flew around her head. But she knew that she couldn't ignore the possibility that one day the Council, out of fear, might turn against humanity. And if that happened... where would her own allegiances lie?