Chapter Ten: Prison Headaches

Naturally, the C-Sec officers, both turian, were skeptical of any story three Alliance marines could produce to explain why they'd just shot two men dead on a well-traveled thoroughfare. Shepard gritted her teeth and allowed her squad to be handcuffed, after the officers relented just enough to allow Williams to finish speaking with Anderson. He agreed to meet them at central processing. He was not amused.

"What now, Commander?" Alenko was calm enough, considering, though he shifted uncomfortably in the seat of the cruiser, wincing at the lights flashing through the glass.

Williams was decidedly less sanguine. "I am not getting locked up in some alien prison."

"Easy there, Chief." Shepard rested her head against the window. "Nobody's getting locked up. We were defending ourselves. As soon as they dig up the security footage from the hall, we'll be released."

"Assuming that Saren's men didn't disable the cams before the assault," Alenko amended darkly.

Shepard didn't allow any trace of how much that suggestion troubled her to show on her face. "Anderson will sort it out."

He closed his eyes and leaned back, expression pinched and drawn. Shepard looked away and tried to think. She was more worried now about being stuck in custody, relieved of their weapons, than she was regarding the actual charges. Spectres had the run of the Citadel. In a C-Sec holding cell, they'd be sitting ducks if Saren decided to try again.

They were dragged through the Academy- Shepard swore she saw the damned asari receptionist smirk in their direction- and unceremoniously dumped in a small processing room with a badly programmed VI doing its best to force them to submit to various security scans. Another officer, human, came to collect a statement. Then they were left alone. The whole process took maybe thirty minutes, and there was still no sign of Anderson.

Shepard blew out a breath as the hatch shut behind the officer, while Alenko, free of the cuffs at last, instantly fished through a suit pocket. She raised an eyebrow as he withdrew a bottle of pills and downed two without hesitation.

"Migraine," he said shortly. "It's probably too late to stop it, but what the hell."

"Stress?"

He jerked his head sharply, no, and elaborated with sarcasm. "I have a dark energy amplification device hardwired into my brain. There are some side effects."

Williams was skeptical. "A biotic in my unit said they got rid of all the side effects."

"Lucky me, I'm old enough to have an L2, not an L3." He propped himself up against the wall and covered his eyes with his palm. "Please don't talk so loud, I'm begging you."

"I wasn't-" Williams began. Alenko visibly flinched. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Well, I wasn't talking loud."

Shepard turned her attention back to the VI, which smiled cheerfully into space from its corner. Like the tour guides, it was programmed to resemble an asari, albeit one half as tall as real life. "How long can they keep us here?"

"Citadel Security is authorized to detain suspects for up to thirty hours after arrest without filing formal charges."

Shepard still didn't have the hang of Galactic Standard Time. "And that's-"

"Forty-one hours, forty minutes in Terran Coordinated Universal time units."

"Have there been any charges filed?"

"You are still being processed. Once your records are fully established within Citadel Security databases, I will be able to provide more current information."

"Great." Shepard groaned and took a seat on the bench running the length of one wall. Her knowledge of the Citadel justice code was sketchy at best. Certainly she could pump the VI for information, but at the moment she preferred to believe it would be unnecessary.

Williams paced the room nervously, her hand straying to the empty holster of her confiscated weapon at regular intervals. In his corner, Alenko was now biting his lip so hard she half expected his teeth to go straight through it, every muscle in his face clenched. It hurt just to look at him.

Time passed into endless waiting. A hard suit was an incredible advantage in a fight, but after hours of sitting in it with no distraction, Shepard felt like her ass was going to fall off. Williams stretched out the length of the bench, hands folded over her stomach, dozing. Alenko was a ball, his head drawn up against his knees with his face hidden in his lap. Every so often he banged his forehead against his legs. She wondered if it helped. It had been at least an hour since anyone spoke. Even the damned VI eventually timed out, dissipating from the air.

Shepard had almost nodded off herself when the hatch split open abruptly and Captain Anderson strode into their tiny stronghold. She ripped off a lazy two-finger salute from her seat. "Hello, sir."

"Shepard," he replied evenly. "I forget the part of my orders that told you to gun men down in the street."

"They shot at us first. I think they were Saren's men." She explained the generic armaments and Alenko's theory that Harkin sold them out. "It seemed best to cooperate with C-Sec instead of adding to the body count."

He didn't disagree. Anderson surveyed the room once more, speculatively. "Nicer digs than what they have on Mars, I'd imagine."

Shepard's jaw dropped momentarily before she could collect herself. His face remained stern, but his eyes laughed as they caught hers.

"My mother has a big mouth," she managed at last. Damn it, she'd been seventeen. The records were sealed. How in the hell did Anderson find out about that?

"Huh?" Williams shuffled back into the land of the waking.

"Nothing," Shepard said, a touch too quickly, before Anderson could take up the thread of conversation. She changed the subject. "So, Captain, can we blow this popsicle stand, or what?"

"It took a personal call from Udina to the Executor, but yes. The security footage confirms your story, but they wanted to hold you for questioning all the same." His lips pursed, any trace of earlier amusement gone.

She frowned. "You think Saren's leaning on them."

"I hope whatever intel you got from Harkin was worth it."

"I know where to go next," Shepard confirmed. "There's a doctor down in the wards who attracted some of Saren's interest, which in turn got the attention of our C-Sec detective. We're getting warmer."

"Better turn up the heat," he growled. "Saren's playing for keeps."

"I was just shot at, sir," she said soberly. "I'm not the one you need to convince."

Williams rubbed the sand out of her eyes. "Let's get our gear and go find this med clinic. Sooner is better."

She spared a glance for Alenko, who managed to stagger to his feet, still obviously in bad shape. Shepard didn't suffer from migraines herself, but she'd heard other people's descriptions. Knives stabbing into the skull, unbearable pressure, vision fading or flashing, nausea- sometimes lasting hours or even days. "I don't think Alenko is in any condition to go anywhere."

As if to confirm it, Alenko stumbled forward a step, and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the cheap plastic tiles. Anderson didn't seem surprised or even perturbed. "I'll get Alenko back to base. You and Williams find this clinic. We need to move fast."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

They collected their guns from a reluctant C-Sec staffer and saw themselves out. Thankfully for their search, though likely not for the health of the residents, there was only one medical clinic listed in the area. The head physician was given as Dr. Chloe Michel, a smiling, slender young woman with a cap of red hair and lively green eyes.

It wasn't far, so the two women set out at a walk. It was very late now, by the Citadel clock, and being this close to the Presidium most of the lights were dimmed and few people were about. Williams jumped at every noise along the way. Shepard supposed several days of almost getting killed could do that to a person, if they weren't used to it. "Try to relax."

"Sorry, ma'am." Williams swallowed. "I don't like this, bumbling around in the dark."

Shepard didn't know if she was talking about the investigation or their present circumstances- probably both. "I don't like it either, but we have to keep a hold of ourselves, understand? Otherwise you're just as likely to shoot some ward rat as an enemy."

"I know what to shoot at, ma'am," she replied, more than a little chill in her tone.

"Good." Shepard paused in front of a locked hatch and checked her maps. "I think this is it."

They regarded the darkened clinic warily. For the hell of it, Shepard banged on the door. There was no response. She glanced around for security cameras, and then turned her attention towards the control panel.

"Are you sure that's allowed?" Williams asked as Shepard pried off the cover.

"Surely not," she replied absently, examining the tangle of wires beneath. "Do you have any omni-gel on you?"

"Yeah. The suit's a bitch to maintain without it." She produced a tube and tossed it to Shepard, who began squeezing a generous supply over the innards. "No offense, but what good does that do?"

"It creates a weak conductive sheet across the entire system. Since most locks work in a physical sense by opening circuits…" She stuck out her tongue in concentration, the tip between her lips, and spread it carefully among the nest of wires. Her suit would ground her sufficiently for this task, though she wouldn't much care to test it on anything stronger than a lock.

Williams seized her wrist in her hand, hissing. "Don't you think we've been arrested enough for one day?"

Shepard stared at her coldly. Her voice was very low as she spoke. "Touch me again, Chief. I dare you."

Williams' grip gradually slackened. "I'm- I'm sorry, ma'am, just- breaking into a building, really?"

"I'm not going to hurt anything. I'll even scoop the goop out of the control panel when I'm done." The hatch zipped open onto an abandoned room. "Shall we?"

Williams cursed under her breath, but followed Shepard into the depths of the clinic. The flashlights mounted on their rifles gave the room an eerie cast, a scant illumination that served more to deepen the shadows than reveal their surroundings. Directly ahead was a half-wall wrapping around some structural complication of the station, and partitioning the entry from the beds and medical scanners at the far end of the clinic. Dispensers for medicines, bandages, and other supplies hung neatly off the walls.

Shepard made a beeline for the terminal sitting shut in the corner of the room. Williams swept her light over the beds, searching for occupants, while they waited for it to warm up. Every bed lay empty, but her uneasiness refused to fade. "I don't like this, ma'am."

"So you've said." Shepard didn't permit her flagging patience to govern her response. "C'mon, Chief. Where's your sense of adventure?"

She stared. "You're nothing like what I expected."

Shepard blew out an exasperated sigh. "It's like I told you- I'm no icon. I'm just me. Sorry if that doesn't quite match whatever ridiculous notions those old vids put in your head."

Williams muttered something. Shepard leaned over the console, tapping in a few commands. "I can't hear you."

The marine turned to face her directly. "I said get over yourself, ma'am."

"Go to hell."

"My entire platoon is dead. I'd be dead, if you hadn't shown up. Saren would have gotten away with it, too, without the evidence you found." She took a step closer. "In my book, that makes you a hero. And now we're on the brink of war, and we need a big goddamn hero. So, with all due respect, Commander- I don't care what you think. Someone has to step up."

Shepard laughed. "I'm just a marine, Ash- can I call you Ash? I'm good at my job. Hell, I'm goddamn amazingat my job, but I'm pretty bad at everything else. If you're looking for a hero I can suggest a few. It sure as shit isn't me."

Williams made no reply, except to turn her back and resume monitoring their perimeter. Shepard turned back to the terminal. So far, there was little to suggest any misdoing in the clinic. No unusual supply shipments, no notable names on the patient log. She found a password cracking package on the extranet, downloaded it to her omni-tool, and set to work on the patient files.

After a moment, she said, "You're one to talk."

"Excuse me?" Williams raised an eyebrow over her shoulder.

"You've got the biggest chip on your shoulder I've ever seen. I know not all of it's Eden Prime. What's your problem?"

"No problem." She rolled her shoulders and turned back to her duty. "The Alliance never treats us Williams as well as we treat them, that's all. My dad used to say a Williams has to be twice as good as anyone else to get half the recognition. He served the Alliance until he died but never got promoted past serviceman, third class. How's that for justice?"

Shepard glanced back at the young woman, who was holding herself quite stiffly. This had nothing to do with the Alliance."I'm sorry for your loss."

Williams swallowed. "Thank you, ma'am."

Shepard bit her lip, hesitating, and checked the progress of her password cracker. So far, it wasn't having much luck. Slowly, she said, "My dad almost got spaced, when I was a teenager. It left him with a lot of health problems. Lately he's… he's not doing very well. It was always just my mom and him and me, and he kind of held the whole thing together while she was off chasing rank. I don't know what's going to happen if…"

She trailed off, and cleared her throat. "Sorry, you don't want to hear this."

"No, it's ok."

It might have been her imagination, but Williams sounded slightly less aggressive. In any case, at that moment her bootlegged program beeped disappointment, and she thumped her hand against the terminal irritably. "Damn it. Worthless piece of garbage code- I can't get into these patient files. They're all protected."

"Check the deletions log," Williams suggested.

"Good thinking." She tapped a few more commands. "Hey, this is interesting. Most of the data's been scrubbed, but she treated someone for a gunshot wound not five days ago. Name is literally Patient X. Dr. Michel needed a file to feed the scanners, but it's like she didn't want any record of this person to exist afterwards."

"Think Saren shot them?"

"Probably not personally, but I'll take any lead we can get at this point." Shepard copied the relevant data, what little of it there was, and shut down the terminal. "Let's get out of here."

"You said it." Chief Williams led the way out, and didn't seem to relax until Shepard wiped clean the inside of the door control box and replaced the lid. "What now?"

"Now, we go get a few hours' sleep and be waiting here tomorrow when Dr. Michel opens the doors," Shepard replied grimly. "I have a lot of questions for her."

They took an auto-pilot taxi back to their billet. Small frigates like the Normandy only had enough sleeping pods to rest a third of the crew at a time. That was entire reason the modern Alliance navy ran three watches rather than two- to save precious space aboard ship. Not that its service members complained.

That arrangement worked just fine in deep space, but less well in port. Most of the crew had been moved to visitor's quarters on the small Alliance base aboard the Citadel. Shepard found the racks to be standard-issue- narrow, stacked three high, and outfitted with a sheet, pillow, and blanket. There was a laundry at the door for trading out soiled uniforms alongside a rack for body armor. She crawled out of her hard suit and found her bed, but sleep proved elusive, in spite of the long day

She lay staring at the bunk above her, idly spinning her dog tags on one finger, an old habit all too many C.O.s had tried to break her of. Too much was happening, too quickly. Eden Prime was scarcely behind them. Saren was altogether too far in front. Somehow, she had to find a way to bring those two points together.

The visions granted her by the Prothean beacon also haunted the darker corners of her mind. She thought she'd seen it all, between the Blitz, Akuze, Aonia, and all the rest of it. This was something else altogether. She had only one word for it.

Annihilation.

Shepard shuddered. There was still a hope that the Council was correct, that what she'd seen was imaginary or irrelevant, but in her bones she knew this was a pleasing lie. What she saw was real. It meant something. Not being able to figure out why the Protheans would have left that for someone to find was going to drive her crazier than the images themselves. Was it a warning, like Anderson told the Council? A final cry for help? Or merely some kind of premonition or war of their own?

And I'll drive myself crazy if I don't get any sleep. The tags slipped back over her head and she rolled on her side, shutting her eyes resolutely against the Prothean nightmares.

And when she heard, two bunks over, Gunnery Chief Williams crying herself to sleep into her pillow, as quietly as possible, she was kind enough not to notice. She rather felt they'd had enough togetherness for one night.