Hey guys. Sorry for the late upload, it's been pretty hectic the past few weeks. Thanks for being so patient. =)
Chapter 10
Walls. Her entire existence had been reduced to walls, and cold, and pain. Even in semi-consciousness, the ice burned. Her body was limp with exhaustion and breathing was a ragged effort that tore through her like knives.
Her inhale dragged against a throat parched past endurance. The scent of blood, heavy, rusty, bitter, clung to her dry mouth. Every breath was like walking barefoot over glass. The wall at her back pressed against her like a regretful hand, while the others seemed to draw in close around her.
They hadn't quite gotten out the bloodstains of the two batarians; turning her head, she could see a violent array. It was a sprouting hydra's head, a vague reek in the semi-darkness.
Shepard exhaled slowly. Her shoulders sagged and her fettered arms pulled against the motion. She tried to flex her fingers, but the results were no different than they'd been an hour ago. She couldn't feel her hands, let alone move them.
The commander ceased her efforts after a few moments and stared at the closed door in resignation. Her attentive nurse would be here soon with a syringe . . . not that she needed it. Shepard could feel the ice swimming in her system, soaking into her cells like water into dry sand. They hardly needed cuffs to contain her anymore.
When she was young, close walls like this had meant safety. There were places in the Reds' hideout that were inaccessible to the bigger gangsters, places only the kids had been able to reach. When she was still able to, she had slept in safety in a tiny alcove, its door walled over, reachable only through ducts and scaffolding. She hadn't been the first one either – old bedding and tattered magazines and an ancient astronomy vid had been waiting for her.
Later, three weeks of work had yielded her a barely functional datapad, a rough skylight, and a dream.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the vid led her to the Alliance, to the Council, to . . .
. . . this. Shepard closed her eyes and thought instead of the Normandy. The alternative was to contemplate her own death.
She cast one last look around her before letting her head drop.
Walls.
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
His eyes bored into the cloaked figure on the screen, deadpan despite his surprise. He didn't accept the asari's about-face nearly as complacently as his employer. "Now that you're done gloating over T'Soni, I take it you have a reason for summoning me?"
His irritation had no impact on the Broker. The voice was smooth and unhurried, pleased with itself. "Your transport will be waiting for you on 51."
"How delightful." Dammit, what game was the Broker playing? If Chek had his way, they would be en route to the Omega system, before any more damage was done.
But then, he hadn't been in control since the start of the mission. Past failure seemed to have made his employer nervous, even obsessive – even if it wasn't the turian's failure. Chek hadn't been on a leash this short since his military days. It ate at him. He could feel the plates at the back of his neck rising in vexation.
"Don't be impertinent. I've upped the ante, Chek. Our clients have agreed to wait another week or so before collecting their purchase, with some concessions on our part."
He couldn't quite keep the sardonic note out of his voice. His employer's evasive self-satisfaction was chafing him nearly as much as the sudden desire to micromanage. "Really? What persuaded them to do that?"
The Broker ignored him. "Redirect your course to 51. And Chek?" The voice rose on the last syllable, wry, triumphant. "Be prepared for guests."
Dimly, he felt the muscles between his shoulder blades twitch; his mandibles clenched tight to his face. "You mean to give them the Normandy." He spoke through gritted teeth, with the precision of exquisite irritation. First the imposition of those incompetent, irrational subordinates, the two batarians and asari, over his own people, then the introduction of T'Soni, now this.
It was not that he disliked these kind of dangerous games – they were his lifeblood and religion – but to be controlled so minutely, to have the strings jerked whimsically every time he moved, was intolerable.
If you must play these games, decide three things at the start: the rules, the stakes, and the quitting time. An old saying, human, he thought.
The rules of this game were constantly shifting now, the Broker's course veering into unpredictability. It was as if he no longer knew where his true goal laid, or cared what he paid for it.
It was one thing to work for a skilled and subtle player; but when obsession began to cloud their judgment, when they became unreliable . . . His mandibles clicked sharply as the thought crystallized.
The Shadow Broker was overreaching.
"Perhaps," the Broker spoke casually, but hot anticipation drifted through the feed nonetheless. "I'd prefer to study it myself. At the very least, I'll grant them some of the more interesting specimens on the ship. That krogan clone, those two human science experiments. They've expressed interest in Cerberus's pet AI as well. I've left you a few units on 51. You know what to do."
"I hope this will be our last little chat until our business is concluded?"
"Chek, are you annoyed with me? How ungracious."
"Ice is a dangerous tool," he said pointedly. "We never planned on detours. We may be close to reaching her limit, even with the Lazarus Project's improvements. I trust you want her in reasonable condition for pick-up?"
"Sedate her if you must – and yes, I realize how ineffective sedatives have proven on her. Knock her out if you need to. Stick her in one of the damp rooms when you arrive. It doesn't matter if she's comatose when she gets there. We can't afford to miss this opportunity."
His expression was stony, ocher eyes hooded. "Is that all?" He hadn't been exaggerating about Shepard's declining tolerance for the ice. Two hours ago the woman had looked as though she'd been dragged through hell, facedown.
"No." The Broker's voice sliced through the feed, pleased, cold. Chek locked his talons behind his back impatiently, feeling the first touch of stress-induced heat. He stifled the vibrations beginning at the back of his throat. He knew what the Broker wanted before it reached his ears.
"When she arrives, I want Dr. T'Soni's head. Kill her."
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
Garrus flicked through his messages impatiently. Tali had taken Liara to the spare room in the cargo hold to get her settled in; Miranda had asked them all to reconvene in fifteen minutes to go over their data. In the meantime - he had neglected his various friends and contacts – he replied to Dr. Michel's inquiries, declined Kelly's Colonyville invite, and bounced another armament idea off of an old contact. Ken's poker invitation drew his thoughts inevitably to Shepard – the sly little smirk that indicated a good hand, the bland, disinterested expression that spelled either certain victory or total defeat.
He missed her face.
His teeth ground together. Dammit, I will find you and take you down. As if stealing and desecrating her lifeless body weren't enough, they had the nerve to abduct her off the Citadel itself . . . It brought up old memories he had worked hard to bury – high-risk kidnapping cases at C-Sec, child abductions, slave raids . . . In most cases, the victim had ended up injured or de – he stopped himself mid-thought and scrolled down again.
From: Lantar Sidonus
For a moment his mind went blank. His talon drifted toward the delete key, paused. His stomach clenched and he forced himself to read on. Shepard, at least, would have encouraged him to.
Subject: Thought this might be your girl
His heart pounded once against his ribs like a boxer's punch and the breath rushed out of him. Garrus opened the message, waves of heat and cold alternating over his skin.
Garrus,
I hope this gets to you. Bailey told me he could make it happen, but then he may have been pretending to humor me.
They have me working in a prison program at the docks. The Citadel is still trying to figure out where to extradite me. I was there a few nights ago and saw a group hustling someone through the docks. They reminded me of the toughs on Omega – not the street scum, but the ones we dealt with - mercs, professionals. I wouldn't have thought twice, but then the hood of her jacket fell back. I caught a glimpse of her, but they were gone before I could say anything.
I hope I'm mistaken, but she looked a damn sight like your commander – and I don't think I'm wrong. If it wasn't, and she's all right, I'll be glad. But I couldn't sit on this information not knowing – I owe her . . . and you, my life. Check the video feed for Dock 725 from 0030 to 0045. If that was her, they left on the Pheobus II.
He bolted from the room.
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
Eager tension buzzed through the comm room. Miranda accepted a glass of water from Liara, thanking her quietly. "Garrus, are you sure this is genuine?"
"Positive. I was his commander for over a year – it's him." She still did not look convinced and he threw down his last card. "I contacted Bailey immediately after – he confirmed it a few minutes ago."
EDI broke into their conversation. "I am accessing Citadel files. There are over two hundred cameras in the Citadel docks. Citadel software employs a great deal of redundant security; Tali Zorah believes it is possible the Shadow Broker's hacker may not have been able to tamper with all of them."
"What did he say the name of the ship was?" Miranda inquired again.
"Pheobus II."
She nodded. "The Illusive Man requested that he be kept informed of all possible leads. I'd like to give him the opportunity to check this one out. Please excuse me." She drained her glass and stood, heels clicking as she left the room.
Liara slid another glass toward Jacob. "I've picked up some interesting transmissions from within the Shadow Broker's network. A few days ago there was a virtual storm of messages concerning an important pick-up at a base of operations called Asteroid 51." She tapped a few keys on her omni-tool and a star cluster burst into bloom above the table.
"Exodus system." Jacob commented. "Canaan, right?" He shook his head. "But that's all asteroid fields. Nothing habitable."
The asari smiled wryly. Her eyes were a pale blue-green in the bright light."You'll see. To get back to the messages I intercepted, they mentioned damping rooms and ice several times, as well as the overriding need to keep 'the specimen' in question as intact as possible – and – thank the Goddess – alive."
"Ice?" Thane asked. His brow ridges were furrowed over bottomless eyes. Liara blinked and forced her thoughts away from Feron.
"It's a relatively new drug developed out in the Terminus. It inhibits biotics and limits physical activity."
"A sedative?" Thane sipped thoughtfully, then shook his head. He set it down and steepled his fingers. "Given the cybernetics Cerberus gave her, how effective would that be?" His gravelly voice was contemplative, with no sign of the tension in his interlaced fingers.
"Almost useless. Ice isn't a sedative, it's . . . " she caught Garrus's eye and looked away, seeing his talons clenched on the table. His mandibles flared once, sharply. She hesitated, then continued, slipping into technical mode, eager to get it over with "It's a nerve amplifier. In essence, adrenaline and the hormones released by biotics trigger it to –"
"It's a torture method, is what you're telling us." Garrus leaned on his hands, bowed over the table. His eyes were a furious blue gleam and he shook off Tali's comforting hand. Self-contained rage seethed around him like a poisonous cloud.
Samara closed her eyes briefly and Jack snarled, turning her back to the group and leaning against the table. She crossed her arms over her chest as old memories of Pragia tugged at her mind. "Shepard's tough," she bit out. Then her hand balled into a fist and her arm darted out suddenly; her empty glass shattered on the floor.
"Jack." Jacob's rebuke was tired and half-hearted. Thane pulled the pieces to him, glittering like tears.
"Will it have any permanent effects on her?" Samara asked.
"Let's find her first," Grunt snapped.
Liara shook her head, but not in negation. "I don't know. That depends on the doctor they have with them, the concentration they use, how her body reacts . . ." She sighed. "Dr. Solus is more qualified to answer that question than I am."
Mordin blinked as heads snapped toward him. "As Grunt said, need to locate Shepard first. Health concerns secondary." The salarian saw jaws tighten and eyes narrow around the table and held up his hands in submission. "Dr. T'Soni, the relevant data, please." He held out his arm and Liara streamed the information to his omni-tool. He nodded, then departed for the lab, muttering about an overabundance of haste and testosterone among the crew.
Miranda paused at the door to let him pass. "I've briefed the Illusive Man. He suggested we head for the Canaan system."Her eyes flicked toward Liara as she continued, before settling on the rest of the crew. "He will be providing a discreet escort. They'll be waiting in the Utopia system for our signal."
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
The asari held the needle down with a firm grip as grim as her smile. Her eyes glided over the commander's pale skin with its unhealthy sheen, the bloody cuts on her cheek from the batarian's fist, dried and flaking, and lastly, lingering, over her own work. Sweat made her hair cling in short, spiky strands around her face and neck. "You aren't going to last much longer, Shepard." The dimple in her left cheek looked out of place under the hard gleam of her eyes. "You can already feel what the ice is doing to you, can't you? I won't be surprised if you end up crippled, or a vegetable."
She removed the empty syringe with a sharp tug. Shepard barely flinched. "I hope you won't blame me for gloating a little. This might be the last time you're coherent enough to listen." The woman grabbed her chin. "You are listening, I hope?"
Blue-gray eyes opened and looked past and through her, feverish and misted. Shadows bruised her eyes.
The asari smiled ruefully at her. "I guess that's a no."
"Aleris – did you just dose her again!"
The asari gritted her teeth and swung around, letting Shepard's head drop. "Of course I did, Schroder. Every six hours, on the hour."
The man's face was panicked. "I told you, I needed to look at the numbers before you gave her another injection. Fuck, did you at least dilute it?"
She shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind."
"Before or after you started slapping her around? Jesus, the Broker's not going to pay us for a half-dead vegetable!"
"As long as she's intact when we get there, the Collector's will pay us regardless of her mental state," she retorted. "Besides, I haven't laid a finger on her. That was your two idiot batarian pals."
"Jesus fucking Christ –"
"That's quite enough from both of you." Chek's voice cracked like a gunshot into their argument. Schroder halted mid-sentence, looking toward the turian framed in the doorway.
His expression was rigid, his mandibles and jaw tight. The two agents fell back as he cut through them like an ocean liner between waves. Ignoring them in the sudden silence, he stopped in front of Shepard's limp form. Lifting her head, he studied the half-open eyes that refused to focus, the tinge of blue that veiled her lips and eyelids. She remained passive throughout his examination, and it was this submissiveness that concerned him more than any of her other symptoms. Her cheek was unnaturally cool.
"Schroder, prep a bed in the med bay for her. I want her sedated or unconscious for the rest of the trip. Don't ice her again." His eyes flicked to Aleris and his mandibles flared as he released his grip on Shepard. Her cheek slid against his hand as her head fell. "I think some of us have been a little . . . overenthusiastic in our handling of Shepard."
"But Chek – all the way to Omega? It can't be done. We've already bounced through too many systems to throw them off- "
"I know. I've just come from speaking with the Broker. We're taking a detour to 51. We can put her in a damp room once we get there. I don't want her iced again until we leave. Aleris," the turian looked at her sidelong and the predatory harshness of his expression forcing her back an inadvertent step. His eyes were fierce and keen. "Get up to the cockpit. You're co-piloting until we get into dock."
Human and asari left quickly, sensing his mood. The turian reached for Shepard's wrists, unlocking the cuffs holding her up. He caught her as she began to slide down the wall. Her pulse was shallow and fluttering under his inspection, her breathing erratic. Her skin was unnaturally cool, and dewed with perspiration. Chek brushed back a few damp strands of dark hair that clung to her forehead.
He ground his teeth at the angry red mark just under her shoulder, the mark of a syringe withdrawn with vicious intent. Again he wished for his own people – dedicated, obedient, loyal. Of the crew, only Schroder and the pilot remained; Shepard had killed Ming.
It was a poor team the Broker had given him – individuals accustomed to working alone. Experts in their own fields, but expertise was less important than reliability on a high-risk assignment. The Broker had ignored this, allowing obsession to override reason.
He shifted her to his shoulder. She was a soft and boneless weight, unarmored skin, delicate fingers, seemingly defenseless. He glanced at the bloodstains on the walls, shook his head, and left the brig.
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
Shepard was stirring feebly on the floor when he entered the med-bay again. Trailing various IVs behind her, a fly escaped from a spiderweb, she lay almost a third of the way to the door. Her fingers tensed and grasped at the floor, pulling herself a quarter of an inch forward as he watched. Liquid bled and pooled from the broken tubes hanging from her body. A sharp, quiet gasp broke from her and pain flashed over her face.
A tremor went through her body as she stretched out her arm again.
Chek sighed, crossing to kneel beside her. Shepard moved forward another half-inch in a desperate jerk as he knelt. He slipped an arm under her, lifting her off of the floor before settling her in his arms. The IVs continued to drip in a near-silent patter on the floor. A weight seemed to press down on his shoulders as he looked down into her face, although carrying her presented no challenge to him. Her chin was up and her cloudy gaze wavered between rebellious and disoriented. There was no fear in her face anymore.
"You damn fool, Shepard," he said softly.
Three seconds took him across what had been thirty minutes of struggling for her. He laid her down on the hospital cot, easily catching the hand she attempted to bat him with. Her fingers tightened around his, trying to shove his arm away. The turian looked down on her as he slid the cuff around her wrist before securing it to the frame.
"I'm afraid you tore your IVs, Shepard." He began to strip the various tubes from her body, inserting new ones, talons deftly finding her veins. He smoothed back choppy strands from her brow, looking to the monitor beside the medical cot. Her temperature had risen to a healthier degree, and her skin was no longer clammy, although the bright lighting bled her face of color. Even her lips were pale, and the blackness of her hair was like ink. Her eyes were clear, almost transparent, ghostly in a white face. They met his own with a strange mixture of confusion and defiance."Where did you imagine you were going?" he asked softly.
His gaze fell to the knife strapped to his boot. It rested there for a few moments, his face closed and contemplative. How easy it would be to draw it and save –
"Hovering over her bedside now?" Aleris leaned against the doorframe, lithe and predatory. Her smirk narrowed her gleaming cat's eyes.
He straightened to his full height and turned to face her. "I thought I made it fairly clear for you to keep away from the med bay."
She shrugged, slipping away from the door. He glanced at her sidelong as she looked at the commander. Her lips compressed. "She looks better." Her voice was flat, almost disappointed. "Seems like there was no need to worry."
"Her stats disagree with you. Why did you give her that last dose?" He slid closer, towering over her. "Spite, Aleris?" She backed up as he stepped forward, biting the words out sharply. "I don't care if she killed your mate – I do not care if she killed your first-born child, I am not delivering a broken vegetable to the Shadow Broker." His hand shot out, trailing blue sparks, and grabbed the front of her armor, pinning her against cold metal. Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply as she felt his biotics crushing her to the wall. "I tolerated your petty little torments, but you've exhausted my patience. Try anything else and I will tear out your spine."
She laughed uneasily. "The Broker would hardly condone – " She choked on her words as a blue vise tightened around her throat.
"The Broker," Chek said, his face inches from hers, "does not tolerate failure either." Blue flames flickered over his face, veiling his eyes, gliding over the fringe so reminiscent of Saren.
He felt her shiver as he released her. "Save your adolescent grudges for the Normandy."