Chapter Ten
Thane opens his eyes. He is surrounded by warmth, white sheets wrapping around him, their texture wonderful against his smooth, dry skin. He blinks, the haze above him resolving itself into a ceiling and a light. He turns over reflexively, pushing the sheets down a little. He blinks again, panic and confusion washing in and then out of him as he recognizes the human lying beside him.
After his heart has returned to a normal speed and the memories of the past day have fully solidified, Thane props himself up on an elbow and lets his eyes wander over Ema's face. So peaceful, he thinks. So young, so fragile. This job will bitter her. It will dull her light. It's already begun. He feels a twinge of sorrow looking at that almond-shaped face with its wavy black hair unbound and spilling across the pillow like a wild animal's mane. Was I ever that good? Was I ever as sure of my purpose, so noble? I do not remember.
The sorrow in his chest intensifies, blossoming into a black flower covered in thorns. You will be the one to put out that light, he tells himself. You will be the one to break her and ruin her. Everything seemed so simple when she was only an obstacle. But now I do not know who is the villain, only that it cannot be her. Perhaps she is the hero of this story. I know it is not me.
The sleeping woman blinks suddenly, shifting. She opens her eyes fully, looking up at Thane. Her face lights up, beaming at him with such open happiness that his heart cries out and he has to turn his eyes down, smiling halfheartedly back at her. "Good morning," she says, and she slides out of the bed, making for a panel in the wall that must be a closet door.
"Is it morning?" he asks. "How would you know?"
Ema gestures at the soft white bulb in the ceiling. "That's my sun. I have it set to come on at six-thirty every morning. Your sleep rhythms sync up to it just like a real sun." She twists around, jet black hair falling over walnut-brown skin, and Thane is struck by how beautiful she is when she is at her ease. "Do you drink coffee?"
"Hmm?" he says, blinking himself back to reality.
Ema laughs lightly, turning back to the closet and rummaging in a drawer. "Come on, stay focused. I'm looking to leave the house sometime this morning, as tempting as the alternative might be. Coffee?"
"Yes, please." Thane sits up. The idea of spending the rest of the day here with Ema is indeed an enticing one. During the night's passion he had temporarily been able to imagine he was someone else, had been able for a few precious moments to pretend he was the man she thought he was, the man she wanted and deserved. If only the two of us could escape, he thinks sadly. I could lie to myself forever. Instead, he gets up and puts on his pants and follows Ema into the kitchen.
…
"Is this thing going to work?"
Jack kicks the tram's metal siding. It rattles. "How the fuck should I know? Sir."
"The car appears structurally sound," supplies Legion from within the tram. "The mechanism and computers are also functional. I find it unlikely that it was recently used to reach the facility."
"Why's that?" asks Shepard, ducking through the low door frame.
Legion turns to regard him quizzically. "It is covered in dust."
Shepard smiles, shaking his head. "Thanks, Legion."
"In addition, the tram was left at this station, rather than at the top of the mountain."
"Okay, okay. Can you get it started?"
"Yes, commander. You will want to shut the door first."
Jack steps inside the car, and as Legion activates the tram's console the door slides shut. There's another rattle, and then a hum as the tram car lurches forward. Shepard stumbles, grabbing onto the overhead rail. When he regains his balance the tram is gliding forward through a glass tube. Outside the glass a storm is raging, snow and ice whipping against the tube. "I'm glad we're not out in that," mutters Jack.
Shepard presses his face against the tram window, trying to see the direction the tube is taking them. "I can't see too far," he says. "It's definitely heading to the facility, though."
"Great," says Jack. "Is there a plan? What if we get there and it's crawling with hostiles?"
Shepard begins to reply, but his attention is distracted by something outside the window. He squints, tilting his head to get a better look. "There's something on the track up ahead," he says. "Legion, can you slow us down?"
"I do not have access to speed controls, commander. I could attempt a bypass, but that would take time."
Shepard's eyes widen and he pushes himself back from the window. "Jack, shield!" he barks.
"What?"
"Shield us! Put up a-"
Shepard feels the shift come without being called, feels the heat rush into his veins, sees the sudden slowness as time begins to blur. He feels the lift, feels the tram turning and hears the sudden blast of noise as if through deep water. He hears his shields blow, hears the kinetic barriers struggle and fail as his suit's eezo accelerators burn out, and through distorted, adrenaline-addled senses feels himself picked up by a giant hand of air and hurled backward. He twists in the air, instinctually looking back, and he feels jagged knives whip against his face and he's falling, back away from the lighted tunnel and the cloud of black smoke and into darkness and cold.
…
"The first thing I need is to know everything you know about the case."
"It's all a confused mess in my head," says Ema. "I'll show you what I managed to put together, and that ought to give you a clearer picture. I can explain anything else that needs explaining." She sets hands Thane a steaming mug. "Come on," she says, jerking her head toward the door. "It takes a while to get to the office from here."
"You don't take public transit?"
"I could. I walk through the presidium most days, though. It's a few minutes of peace before I have to face the day."
"It sounds good to me."
As he follows Ema out the door Thane activates his omni-tool and checks his messages. The icon shows ten unread messages from Garrus, and Thane opens them, carefully tilting the screen away from Ema.
Just checking in. Got rid of the bouncers, they'll heal.
How's it going in there? Is she talking?
Are you still in there?
Thane where are you? Keep me updated.
Are you with her? Is she talking yet?
CHECKING IN PLEASE RESPOND
THANE WHERE ARE YOU ARE YOU COMPROMISED
Are you sleeping with her? Hello, thane?
Are you awake yet? Respond, we need to meet up
Spirits, how late do you sleep? It's 430 already.
Thane sighs and taps out a quick reply.
Situation fine gathering intel will rendezvous later
He closes the omni-tool, quickening his pace to catch up with the sergeant. She smiles up at him. "Anything important?"
Thane shakes his head. "Just a friend. I told him to leave us alone." He raises a finger, brushing the sleek black waves falling across her shoulders. "You left your hair down."
"I know," she says, a touch shyly. "I sort of hate doing it up like that. I do it some days, for occasions like the ball, but this morning, well …"
"I like it. It reminds me of the ocean."
Ema's smile widens. "Have you seen an ocean?"
"I've seen many oceans," says Thane.
"I would love to, some day," says the sergeant, her voice wistful. "I've only been off the Citadel once, though. After the academy some friends and I took a trip to a retreat on a forest moon near Ilium for a week. There was no water, though."
"The sea is my favorite place," says Thane. "I suppose many drell would tell you the same, but it has always spoken to me in a personal way. It is vast quiet and emptiness, while at the same time chaotic and full of life."
"When I was little I used to tell people I was going to live by the sea. Now, I don't know. I can't see myself ever leaving this place." Ema looks around unhappily. "It's my home, but sometimes it feels like a cage. A cage is a cage no matter how fancy it is."
…
Garrus checks the time again. 930. He resists the urge to send Thane another message, settling instead for grumbling "rendezvous later, he says, and when's that supposed to be? I'm just supposed to sit here on my ass until 'later?'"
He picks himself up off the bed, crossing to the rented room's miniature fridge and yanking another can of turian beer off the six-pack. He returns to the bed, flopping down on his back and staring morosely at the can's label. This lack of discipline and organization would have never flown with his team back on Omega. Whole lot of good it did you then, though.
He opens the beer, taking a swig and propping the chilly can against his leg. Without meaning to and yet without fighting the impulse, he raises his arm and activate his omni-tool. Garrus taps the keyboard and a picture appears, hovering an inch above the transparent surface. He smiles.
Maybe he shouldn't have asked for her picture. It had seemed like an obvious thing to do at the time, but now he's less sure. Seeing her face and being unable to touch her or hear her voice is such a bittersweet gift that it twists his stomach up and he doesn't know what he's feeling. His right hand passes through the picture, his gloves fizzing as they try to simulate the touch of a solid screen, and the plates above his eyes press together. There she is, a shy smile on her lips, pale, bright eyes raised to the camera, silvery-white hair falling around a gently curving face and pale violet skin. A single strand hangs over her eye and Garrus wants desperately to reach through the screen and brush it back, but every time his fingers pass through the picture and the tool's blinking light complains at him and he's reminded of the lightyears and lightyears and lightyears. …
So beautiful, he thinks. And she has no idea. He remembers the first time she undid her mask for him, remembers how nervous she was. As if anything could possibly change how I felt. As if someone like her could ever be anything less than beautiful, no matter what they looked like. He remembers the glass falling away from her wide eyes, watching him so vulnerably, laid so bare. He took her hands then, and he remembers them shaking a little as he pulled her in to him and pressed his forehead against hers. He remembers kissing her gently, awkwardly at first, rigid turian plates and soft quarian lips not being an easy match, and then more heatedly as they began to get a feel for each other's bodies.
So different, he thinks. In every possible way. He had made the same remark to her one night when she had come up to the battery and she was sitting with him with her head leaning against his shoulder. She had responded "Except in all the important ones." He wonders now what she meant. He wonders how in the world such a wonderful person had chosen, out of all the people in the galaxy, to be with him. He wonders if there's such a thing as fate, and if it would be angry at being so clearly defied. Not that it would make a difference, he realizes. He'd fight a thresher maw with his bare claws if that was what it took to be with her.
A loud rap breaks Garrus out of his revery, startling him enough to upset his beer can and send the liquid spilling over the bedsheets. Ignoring the spilled drink, he slides off the bed and pads over to the room's door. Raising his eye to the peephole, he sees three figures standing outside his door. A turian, a human, and a krogan. Not housekeeping. Housekeeping doesn't carry concealed weapons.
Garrus moves quietly away from the door, his mind rapidly sifting through his options. The knock comes again, more impatient this time. Not armored, by armed. Definitely armed. Human easy, turian easy if I surprise him, krogan a problem. The motel room is small, the entry hall leading to a bathroom on one side and the bedroom on the other. Garrus creeps into the bathroom, easing the faucet on and sneaking out again, locking the door behind him. There's a third knock at the door, the kind of knock that says next time I'm knocking with my boot.
Garrus moves quickly now, covered by the sound of running water. He ducks behind the bedroom's doorless frame, pulling his head behind the corner just as the room's flimsy door comes crashing down.
He holds his breath as heavy boots stomp into the motel room. "In here," grunts the low voice of the krogan, and there's another crash as the bathroom door falls in. Garrus suddenly wishes he had had the presence of mind to pull the shower curtain closed and buy himself another few seconds, but there's no time now. He pushes away from the wall, turning the corner in a rush. The three intruders are half inside the bathroom, their backs turned. The krogan is holding a sawed-off shotgun, and both the human and the turian brandish heavy handguns. Garrus feels the adrenaline rush into his veins. He takes a slow breath.
Garrus drives his boot into the back of the turian's knee, and as he buckles Garrus reaches around infront of the human and grabs the man by his forehead. The human lets out a surprised cry and Garrus slams a fist into the back of his skull. Stunned, the man lets his pistol clatter to the floor, and Garrus pulls back the head, bringing his fist down on the man's windpipe. The krogan is slow to turn, and Garrus spins to the turian, still getting to his feet, and kicks him in the mouth. The turian sprawls backward again and Garrus snatches up the fallen pistol. The gun kicks, its muted blast ringing in his ears.
Garrus turns to the krogan, who is lumbering out of the bathroom toward him with a grin on his face. Garrus fires, the gun's report followed by a fizz as the projectile meets kinetic barriers around the krogan's body. Shields! Fuck! Garrus fires off as many shots as he can before the weapon locks, overheated.
The krogan has stopped. He stands a few feet away from Garrus, still grinning. A single red spot is blossoming on his chest. He raises a three-fingered hand to the spot, locking eyes with Garrus. "That one hurt, little rock-lizard. But now you're all out." Keeping his eyes on Garrus, he tosses the heavy shotgun aside. "Now we fight like men, and I kill you and make an ornament out of your teeth."
Garrus eyes the krogan warily. He's a head taller than Garrus and probably twice as heavy, But there's no going around him and the room has only one exit. He bares his teeth at the krogan, stripping off his gloves. "Why don't you come and take them then?" Maybe not the smartest thing I've ever said …
The krogan rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck loudly. He squares up, leaning his weight forward, then suddenly explodes with laughter as Garrus's gloves hit the floor. "I said fight like men, not like hatchlings!" he bellows, shaking with mirth. "Can't even get a bitch of your own species! What is she, an asari? A human?"
Garrus growls, his secondary vocal chords rumbling deeply. He has indeed blunted his talons, as many turians with non-turian lovers choose to do. Now for the first time he finds himself regretting the decision. In lieu of a reply he charges at the krogan, feinting back at the last moment as the krogan leans forward the meet him, and slashes a clawed hand across the giant face. His talons skid over plate, one finger catching a heavy-lidded eye. Garrus pulls away, dancing back a step.
The krogan blinks rapidly, shaking his head. The eye Garrus raked is filling with blood. He snarls, and Garrus barely has time to catch his breath before the krogan charges at him. The alien's body moves surprisingly fast and Garrus darts out of the way without an inch to spare. The krogan shuffles to a stop, turning and reaching out thick arms to trap him. Garrus steps around the lunge, grabbing a wrist and punching the krogan hard twice just below the armpit. The arm weakens and Garrus grabs onto it with both hands, trying to force the elbow to snap.
The krogan roars in anger, snatching Garrus by the forearm with his other hand and jerking him away. Garrus tries to twist out of the krogan's grasp, but his grip is like iron and he pushes Garrus to the side, grabbing him behind the fringe and slamming his head down into a counter. Stars explode behind Garrus's eyes, and as the krogan pushes him down again he takes advantage of the momentum and ducks down, digging his claws into the inside of the krogan's thigh. The krogan yells in pain, snatching at him, but Garrus ducks between his legs and sinks the talons of his thumbs into the soft flesh behind the krogan's knee. The krogan howls and catches Garrus a heavy blow to the side of the head. Garrus falls back, pushing himself away on all fours and scrambling to his feet.
The krogan turns to face him. Garrus leans his weight forward, shifting from foot to foot. There's no room for circling in the tiny room.
"I'm going to skin you alive," growls the krogan. "We're going to see how you look under your scales, hatchling."
"How did you find me?" asks Garrus.
"What?"
"How did you find me? If you're going to kill me you might as well tell me."
"We saw you come into the office," says the krogan, watching Garrus closely.Garrus notices he's trying not to put weight on the leg Garrus clawed. "There are cameras everywhere in the C-sec buildings," the krogan continues, breathing heavily. "And people who watch them. You should have stayed sober, hatchling. Your drunken rant cost you your life. You want to save me some time and tell me who else you told? Besides the sergeant, of course."
"I knew she was one of your people," says Garrus, stalling while he looks for an opening.
"She's a pain in my quad. But don't worry, she's item number two on our list for today. If you hate her so much maybe you should let me kill you. Then maybe I won't miss the fun."
"I thought this was the fun," says Garrus. If I get on his weak side I might be able to take him down. But then what? He'd crush me if we went to the ground.
"I couldn't give two shits about you, egg-tooth. The real fun will be when we corner that bitch at her office. I want to see her face when she realizes none of her precious C-sec brothers are there to protect her. Money speaks louder than the law. Always."
Alarm bells are going off in Garrus's head. Thane's with Jacobson at her office! I've got to warn him.
…
The door to the office chimes quietly and slides open. Thane follows Ema into her office. "Is this place always so quiet?" he asks, looking back into the empty hallway.
"Not usually," says Ema. She activates her desk console, keying in her login and password. "I guess the receptionist isn't in yet, he's usually at the desk downstairs."
"Isn't it odd that we didn't see anyone in the halls?"
Ema shrugs, her eyes glued to the monitor. "Not really. This is a small station, some of them are probably out on patrol. Lieutenant Neilson is probably in his office."
Thane glances uneasily toward the door. Something feels off, but he swallows his apprehension. This is a police station, after all, he reminds himself.
"I've got the case files here," says Ema. "Plus my own research added in. I'll link it to your omni-tool. The device name is 'Csec42a3818c.'"
Thane brings up his omni-tool, which is pleasantly devoid of unread messages form Garrus. He links the tool to the sergeant's computer and watches as she starts the file transfer.
"That's it," says Ema, looking up from the computer. "What are we going to-"
Thane's head snaps up as the door opens. A pair of turians step into the office, then freeze, staring at him. Both are holding large heavy pistols. "It was supposed to be empty!" says one to the other.
"It doesn't matter, bag 'em both," replies his partner, and Thane is already moving, pushing Ema down behind the desk and vaulting over the top. He lands, and as the startled turians backpedal, raising their guns, he grabs a wrist and ducks behind the would-be attacker. Putting the turian between himself and the other gunman, Thane guides the pistol and the hand holding it up and fire directly into the chest of the other turian. The gun hisses and the turian reels back into the doorframe, convulsing.
Thane kicks the turian he's holding in the back of the knee, falling to the floor with him. His legs whip around, bracing on both sides of the turian's trapped arm and he pushes up with his hips and yanks down with both hands until hears a crack and a scream of pain. The gun drops to the floor and Thane swivels, mounting the unlucky turian's chest and snapping his neck with a single quick motion.
A full eight seconds since the door opened, both turians lie dead on the floor of the office. Thane rises briskly, giving the body of the turian he's shot a kick. The body twitches. Not dead, just stunned.
Ema rises slowly from behind the desk, gripping a pistol in both hands. "Are there more in the hallway?" she asks, the faintest tremor in her voice.
Thane opens the door, sticking his head into the hall. "Not at the moment," he says, "But I do not suggest we stick around."
Ema comes around the corner of the desk. She looks down at the bodies on the floor. "Are they dead?"
Thane shakes his head. "Just one. I shot the other with his own gun, but it fired a stun charge. Do you recognize these men?"
Ema kneels down next to the dead turian. She looks up after a moment. "No, but I recognize the tattoo on this one's neck. They're part of Varek's gang."
"Who is Varek?"
"He's the one who threatened to kill me if I pursues the investigation," she says flatly.
"It seems he meant to make good his promise," observes Thane. "I imagine they intended to stun you and take you somewhere they would not have to clean up afterward. I doubt your lieutenant would have appreciated being left a mess."
She stands up, still holding her gun tightly. "You think he put them up to it?" Her voice sounds slightly empty. Thane guesses she is in slight shock.
"No, but I am certain he allowed it. I think this goes deeper than the lieutenant, and deeper than this mercenary gang." He looks around the office. "We need to leave this place. And I need to find my partner."
"Let's go then."
Thane shakes his head. "You should not-"
A shout from down the stairs cuts him off. "Hey, what's taking so long up there? We're not supposed to take anything from the offices, just grab her and let's move already!"
Thane turns to Ema. "Can you shoot that thing?" he whispers.
"No, it's a fashion accessory," she snaps.
"If all goes well, you won't have to. Is there another way out of here?"
"There's a window in the lieutenant's office. There are a load of dumpsters down there, it wouldn't be a long way down."
Thane sweeps his arm toward the hallway. "After you then, madam."
Sergeant Jacobson shakes her head, a funny half-smile on her face. She seems about to say something, but then she closes her mouth and steps out into the hallway.
…
Garrus shifts his weight, forcing in steady, even breaths. He's going to charge at me, he thinks. His mind has slowed down, slipping into the low, steady gear of battle. Thoughts enter in a straight line, one after the other, not quickly but crystal clear. The madder he gets, the more he'll do it. It's a krogan instinct. I've got to keep dodging him, get him tired. Do more damage every time. Try to get behind him. I can do it. He thinks of the picture, the shyly smiling face, smiling like that just for him. No, I have to do it.
"I'm out of patience, hatchling," growls the krogan, and just as Garrus predicted he bends forward, thick head plates leveled, and Garrus has only a second to prepare before a half a ton of enraged krogan is barreling toward him.
Garrus sidesteps the charge, only barely, and as the krogan struggles to turn he lashes out, gouging the krogan's upper arm. The krogan slows, his good eye targeting Garrus as the turian leaps onto the bed. "Out of patience?" says Garrus. "But I'm just starting to enjoy myself!" He tenses as the krogan charges again, and this time when he leaps away he takes the bed sheet with him, flipping it over the krogan's head. The krogan's arms flail under the sheet, and he lets out a roar of anger. Garrus steps behind him, keeping out of reach, and, flexing his fingers, he clamps his blunted talons onto the krogan's throat.
Garrus feels softness and sinks his claws in. The krogan yells and a red stain spreads out from between Garrus's fingers. The krogan's arms strike out as he stumbles wildly, knocking into the walls and counter. Garrus holds on grimly, keeping his talons sunk into the krogan's throat. Hands reach back to grab at him but the krogan cannot reach behind his own humped back and Garrus only tightens his hold, focusing all his energy on maintaining the grip.
The krogan's hands go to his own face, taring at the blood-soaked cloth over his head. He stumbles backward, trying to crush Garrus against the wall, but the turian twists out of the way, steering the krogan by the neck. Blood streams down the krogan's front, coating the floor, and the krogan slips, bringing Garrus down with him. The two fall awkwardly onto their sides with Garrus's hands still around the krogan's neck. With a gasping, bubbling cough the krogan backs into the bed frame, trying more and more feebly to knock the turian off of him. The coughing continues, turning into an awful sucking sound as Garrus digs his talons deeper. He closes his eyes, forcing all his strength into his arms, for he knows that if he lets go he will die here in this tiny, filthy motel room.
Slowly, after what seems like hours and hours, the krogan's struggles weaken and subside. The sucking, bubbling sound of his breath slows and is no more.
Garrus tilts his head back, resting it against the bed. He pulls his talons from the krogan's throat, relaxing his cramping arms and letting them fall dead at his sides. Garrus closes his eyes, taking a deep breath despite the sickeningly strong scent of blood. There was something he needed to do.
His eyes snap open, his head jerking up. Thane! Spirits, I hope it's not too late!
…
"I think we have left them behind."
Ema looks over her shoulder. The street is filled with morning traffic, throngs of people of all shapes and colors being equally inconvenienced by one another. No-one seems to be actively pursuing them. She lets out a deep breath. "That was incredible, back there. Where did you learn to move so fast?"
"That is something for another time," says Thane. His eyes search the crowd ahead, looking for an exit. "We need to get to a spaceport. Where do you suppose the nearest transit hub is?"
"Over that bridge up ahead," says Ema, nodding to a silver bridge leading off of the main road.
Thane's omni-tool beeps at him and he raises it to his mouth, accepting the incoming call. "Yes?"
"Thane! Don't go to the police station!"
"Thank you Garrus, but we just left. We may be being followed."
"You're still with that damn police lady? Dammit Thane, ditch her! We need to get out of here. Did you get any intel?"
"I've got all there is. We were attacked at the office. Be careful, there may be people looking for you as well."
"Yeah, they found me alright. I'm leaving housekeeping one hell of a tip."
"We will pick you up at the motel."
"Yeah, okay. Shepard better be nearly finished with his mission, I'm sick of this place already. Again."
…
Thane pulls the rapid transit car to a stop at the station, the automatic docking magnets shunting it into place. The gull-wing door raises and Garrus swings himself in next to a startled Emelia Jacobson. "Thane, this is the drunk from the party!"
Garrus turns to the sergeant, scowling as he recognizes her. "Dammit Thane! I said get rid of her!"
Ema looks from Garrus to Thane and back to Garrus. "What? Who are you people? Thane?"
Garrus slams the door shut, fastening his seatbelt. "Just drive, Thane. We can signal Shepard from the spaceport. And you," he glares at the sergeant, "can shut up. I don't need anyone yapping at me right now, especially not a bloody crooked cop."
Ema bridles. "You have no right-"
"I walked a beat in the wards for years!" yells Garrus, suddenly furious. "Don't you tell me about 'right!' You wouldn't know right if it bit you on your lying ass! People like you should be the reason we have policemen! I've put people like you in prison, so don't start telling me I don't have the right!"
A crushing silence descends upon the car. Thane's knuckles creak on the steering yoke. Garrus stares moodily out the window at the passing buildings and sky traffic. Ema's eyes are on the floor, her arms drawn in to her sides.
Thane stares straight ahead through the windscreen, guiding the transit car into a lane of floating traffic heading to the nearest spaceport. A few extremely uncomfortable minutes go by before he breaks the silence. "We're being followed."
Garrus cranes his neck, looking backward out the small rear window. "Damn. How many?"
"I only see one. Yellow vehicle, three cars behind us."
"Can you lose him?"
"I will try." Thane watches the strip of air that serves as the road, waiting for a building to pass by close enough. When one comes he jerks the yoke to the right, pulling the car on a sharp turn around the corner of the building. He slows down, turning to face the traffic lane they've just left. The yellow car passes by, disappearing from view. Thane watches, waiting, until just as he knew it would the car appears again, coming back toward them in the opposite lane.
Thane pushes the control yoke down, sending their car into a sharp dive down toward the city streets below. As he levels the car out, swooping below the lanes of traffic, he catches sight of the yellow car diving behind them. "Garrus," he calls. "See if you can raise the Normandy."
A few moments pass as Thane loops the car between buildings, tacking back and forth in an effort to lose their pursuers. "No signal," says Garrus from the back seat. "They must be out of … wait …"
A faint crackling comes from Garrus's omni-tool, followed by a familiar voice. "Garrus, is that you? Hey, come in, Garrus?"
"Joker! Where are you?"
"We're in orbit over-" a burst of static momentarily drowns the pilot out. "-planet, Shepard's still down there! Looks like it could be a while, something about a … signal, he … you doing? … far … get?"
"You're breaking up," says Garrus. "Can you fix the transmission?"
"… what … out of range of … field …" The transmission dies completely, subsiding into fuzz.
Garrus curses, tapping furiously at the omni-tool, then he's thrown back in his seat as Thane jerks the car around a sharp corner. "They're not going to be able to evac us," he says. "We'll have to find another way off the Citadel, unless you want to wait here, which I'm guessing you don't."
"The ship you're talking to is called the Normandy?" asks Ema, her voice incredulous.
"I told you to shut up!"
"Garrus!" barks Thane.
"Oh, spirits," sighs Garrus, passing a hand over his eyes.
"And you said something about a Shepard," presses Ema. "This wouldn't be the Shepard and the Normandy, would it?"
"Yes," says Thane wearily, pulling the nose of the vehicle up and then swerving back downward over the top of a billboard, "it would."
Ema is silent for a moment, then she says "Oh," and sits back in her seat.
The spaceport appears in over the top of the building beneath them, and Thane steers toward it. "Did you lose the guy following us?" asks garrus.
"Possibly, but we can't afford to wait for him to call for help. We need to get off this station before the whole underworld is out for our blood."
"So you think this is big," says Garrus. "I thought so too."
"Whoever went to such lengths to hide the bombings might have any number of mercenary bands in their employ. The longer we stay here the more men they have the chance to mobilize."
The car swoops down to lock itself into a spot just outside the spaceport's busy courtyard. The mismatched trio climb out of the car. Garrus looks around at the crowd outside the spaceport's main building. "I think we lost them."
Thane points over Garrus's shoulder. A yellow transit car has just parked a few hundred meters away. Its doors lift open and two humans and two turians climb out. One of them looks straight through a hole in the crowd, locking eyes with Thane. He shouts something to his companions. "Go!" says Thane.
Garrus sets off through the crowd, Thane and Ema following close behind. Someone yells behind them. "Come on," calls Garrus, pushing his way toward the spaceport doors.
They burst through the throng of people and into the less crowded spaceport. "Dock E," calls Garrus. "We'll have to find a private ship."
"How are we going to get one fast enough?" asks Thane, jogging to keep up.
"I don't know!" yells Garrus. They tare through the families and business men and clusters of spacers and miners and under the arch marked "E." "Charter," calls Garrus. "Look for a sign that says 'charter!'"
"There!" says Ema, pointing to a berth several spots down the line. A man in a battered grey suit of armor is sitting in a folding chair in front of the entry, his feet resting on a crate.
Garus skids to a stop in front of the man, who removes the cigarette from his mouth and gives Garrus a look. "Yeah?"
"We need a ship, and we need it now," says Garrus. "As in within the minute."
The man sits up slowly, taking a long drag. "Well that's quite the demand, isn't it? Tell me," he says, looking Garrus in the eye and raising an eyebrow, "how many grams of narcotics do you have shoved up your ass?"
"We are not fugitives or criminals," says Thane, catching up to Garrus. "But time is of the utmost importance. We will compensate you for the trouble."
The man turns his amused look on Thane. "Oh you will, will you? What sort of compensation might that be?"
Thane spreads his hands. "Name your price."
The pilot looks at him calculatingly. "Seventeen thousand credits," he says at last, and smiles.
"Seventeen thousand?" exclaims Garrus. "We could almost buy our own ship for that!"
"Done," says Thane. "Now we must leave immediately." He looks over his shoulder. There's a commotion by the doors to the spaceport. People are shouting but he can't hear the words. Not yet.
The pilot's eyes widen. "Goddamn," he says. "I didn't think you were that desperate." He takes another long pull at his cigarette, than gets to his feet, folding up his chair. "Alright, let's get you gentlemen—beggin' your pardon, miss—the hell outa here!" He swipes his omni-tool over the airlock door and the orange panel turns green. "Lucky for you I just refueled 'er, or else we wouldn't be goin' anywhere."
As they file through the airlock, Thane sees two men break through the crowd by the door. They stride swiftly toward the dock, and then one of them catches sight of Thane. He reaches into his coat, pulling out a large handgun. Thane turns and steps quickly into the airlock.
The pilot has also seen the gunman. "Whoo, just in time, looks like thats for you," he says jovially, sealing the airlock behind them. "All aboard now." He opens the next door, letting them onto the ship.