Chapter X: The Rogue
It had been a few days since Garrus' disappearance. Commander Katelyn Shepard had been forced back into the usual routine of her job, including having to write reports about what had happened down on Virmire and Garrus' presumed fate. She was certain that the turian had been sent to some far away world but where exactly was impossible to determine. She had brought on board the Prothean crystals but nothing had been gained from them, except the obvious: they were crystals and they had a habit of shining in the light. These crystals remained enigmas to the engineers and technicians who were studying them. Even now they were running tests on them but were finding out very little. Everything about those Prothean ruins down on Virmire had been a mystery and operating the apparent portal was impossible without the stone Colonel Sommers had possessed. Where he had gotten that stone was anyone's guess.
Shepard wandered the corridors of the Normandy, outfitted in the normal blue Alliance uniform. Her expression was passive yet deep down she grew frustrated over what had happened on Virmire. It would have been different if she had seen Garrus die but he had not died, instead he was quite clearly still alive even if he was nowhere to be found. Sommers was probably still alive as well, if the pair had not killed each other yet. That was always a possibility.
Still, Shepard knew better than to give up in her search. They had been forced to abandon Virmire even if Shepard had had the feeling that she and her crew could have taken on the hostiles that had arrived. However, it turned out there was another reason why they had to abandon Virmire and any last hope of finding Garrus: a message had come from Admiral Hackett of Alliance Command, one that was apparently quite urgent.
Shepard entered the upper deck of the Normandy and received a salute from the guard posted by the door she passed through. She took up her position before the galaxy map, manipulating the panel before her to open a channel with the Admiral. Whatever it was about was probably important.
To think that she would be unable to do much when it came to finding Garrus…she had tried her best down at the Prothean ruins on Virmire to find clues and had discovered very little. The location of the turian was unknown and even those who had worked alongside Colonel Sommers did not know where the portal had taken the two of them. It angered Shepard to think that all she needed was a location and she could have sent the Normandy there immediately…and yet without even a hint as to where the pair had gone she could do nothing. The galaxy was a big place, filled with a lot of planets and much in the way of life. Trying to find Garrus with even a full fleet at the Commander's disposal would take a few hundred years, maybe more if they scanned every hospitable world and then some. There was no way to use deduction to find out where the turian had gone since they had no clues to begin with. Scanning random planets would be a useless gesture. What if the portal had taken Garrus and Colonel Sommers to another galaxy? There was no way to tell where it had taken them, except to a world that was hospitable and well-forested as made evident by the transparent image the "portal" had supplied. The more Shepard thought about it the more things began to piece together: Colonel Sommers had somehow discovered the location of a "safe haven" on an unknown world as well as discovering a means to get there. This safe haven could only be accessed via the portal, meaning that it was probably some world in unchartered space. And unchartered space was big and full of unfound worlds. To scan every one of them with just the Normandy would take decades but Shepard was determined to do whatever it took to ensure that she found Garrus. She would not let the turian leave her life so soon after they had admitted their feelings for each other…to say she loved him was perhaps risky and she knew this but even so…
Admiral Hackett's stern voice broke her reverie as it filtered through the panel ahead of her. It was funny, Shepard thought absently, that Admiral Hackett gave her so many jobs to do and yet she had ever seen the man face-to-face once, after the attack on the Citadel. It had been an awards ceremony, one that Shepard had attended because she had more or less needed to. Garrus, despite having earned himself an award, had not gone and had instead stayed in his hospital room. Admiral Hackett had been an ageing man in his fifties, perhaps even his sixties with greying hair and weathered features. Now though the old routine of only ever hearing his voice had resumed and he sounded serious, as he often did, as his voice broke the relative quietness of this section of the bridge.
"Commander Shepard, this is Admiral Hackett of the Fifth Fleet. I read your reports about your recent trip to Virmire. All very fascinating, but your request to send search teams out into unchartered regions of space to find the turian is impossible to fulfil…"
"The turian has a name, sir," Shepard replied through gritted teeth. She had been expecting as much of a response but when it did come she could not help but feel angry. Sure, there was no way in hell anyone would bother trying to find one turian by scanning God only knew how many planets but it had been worth asking for anyway.
"Regardless, Shepard, relegating a task like that to a large chunk of the fleet is impossible. I'm afraid that the turian, Garrus Vakarian, is to be officially declared as 'missing in action'."
"Garrus was a valued member of my team," Shepard said, "We've been through a lot together." Missing in action? Shepard knew only too well that "missing in action" was just another way of saying "missing, presumed dead." She was not going to give up trying to find Garrus, regardless of what Admiral Hackett said.
"Commander, you should be used to such things happening under your command. Soldiers die and go missing all of the time. What we don't need is someone of your status and reputation wasting their time with a fruitless search for a single turian, especially when there are far more pressing matters at hand."
"Pressing matters, sir?" Shepard frowned. "What sort of pressing matters?" She was used to people dying under her command, it came with the job. Not everyone she lead in battle could survive and she knew this better than anyone, especially with a title like the "Butcher of Torfan" stuck to her.
"I didn't call just to talk about what you discovered on Virmire, Commander. Instead, I called because something interesting has come up. Something that you'll no doubt find interesting as well. Believe it or not, Shepard, but we believe it has something to do with those ships you encountered in orbit over Virmire."
Shepard remembered the two ships that had been in orbit over Virmire as the Normandy had departed the world. Both had been frigates and both had been Alliance built. What had been strange was how they had simply let the Normandy leave, as if whoever was in charge of both ships had decided that the Normandy was not their problem. Those ships had been sending troops down to the excavation site, hinting that that had been their objective and not the Commander or the Normandy. Even so, it was odd. Just plain odd, as Joker had commented as they had left the system.
"There has been a series of recent deaths, all of them of people involved with what has been found to be a secret project that had been carried out by the turian military," Hackett continued. Shepard stood and listened, vaguely interested and fully aware that yet another mission was about to be effectively thrown in her lap.
"The turians, naturally, were trying to cover the whole thing up. However, after some political pressure they gave up some details of a top secret project that some of their highest level researchers had been carrying out, one that involved Prothean crystals much like the ones you found in the excavation site on Virmire. That's why I've brought this to your attention, Commander. The Council, in its weakened state cannot rely on regular Spectres at the moment especially after what happened with Saren. That's why they've told me to tell you that you have the case."
"And what 'case' is this, Admiral?" Shepard asked. The Prothean crystals, at the time, had seemed like just a minor detail. But now, when it was revealed that they might be somewhat more important than originally thought she was quite interested. However, no matter how hard she tried to take her mind off of recent events she could not help but think of Garrus and the frustration involved with trying to find him.
"About a month ago the first of the researchers died in mysterious circumstances. After that, the lead researcher, a female turian, disappeared without a trace. And since then all of the highest researchers in the project have been dropping off of the radar as if someone is specifically targeting them and eliminating them. I think that whoever is killing these researchers had discovered about what was on Virmire and they were the ships you encountered on your way off of the planet. There was one Prothean crystal that the project centred upon and that has since disappeared as well. The ones you collected on Virmire, Commander, were probably what these people were after. Somehow they discovered what the turians were doing with the crystal and wanted to claim it for themselves, as well as any other crystals that could find."
Shepard frowned with thought. The simple trip to Virmire had since erupted into a full-blown conspiracy by the sound of it. There was the slight chance that finding out abut these crystals may provide clues to Garrus' whereabouts…it was a slim chance but a chance nonetheless. Shepard remembered what Colonel Sommers had said about people being after him. Maybe it was Cerberus who was targeting the researchers and claiming what had been discovered for themselves? It was not an implausible train of thought, especially considering Cerberus' pro-human tendencies which would explain why it was a turian research project they were targeting.
"Maybe it's Cerberus that's doing all of the killing, sir?" Shepard suggested, "Did you ever think of that?"
"If it is Cerberus that means that humans are responsible. We may have more power than any other species as a result of what happened at the Citadel, but an incident like this could further hurt our image. That's why we need you to find out what's going on and take whatever measures necessary to remove the threat. However, the few details we have received hint that Cerberus may not be behind this at all. In fact, we have reason to believe that a rogue may be involved, especially when it comes to witness reports of one of the deaths of the researchers.
"You see, Commander: most of the deaths of the researchers have been rather horrific. There have been about twenty so far of interest, all of them having been burnt alive."
"Burnt alive?" Shepard raised an eyebrow. Sure, incendiary ammunition could do that to someone but even so why go to all of the trouble? Regular bullets would work just as well.
"Yes Commander, burnt alive. All the cases like this have been the same: the person in question has been found as nothing but a charred corpse with no evidence of a struggle or of weapons discharges. That rules out incendiary ammunition and the lack of fuel rules out anything like petrol or oil. Whoever is doing this, Commander, has a liking for fire. And something tells me that Cerberus does not operate in this manner. The lack of any sort of evidence leaves the whole thing open to interpretation, but there were a few witnesses with one of the deaths that provides some information."
"Such as?"
"One salarian scientist involved with the project was on the Citadel, working in an office. Somehow the killer was able to get into the office undetected and kill the salarian. I'm forwarding you eyewitness testimonies and surveillance camera footage but it isn't much to go on. However, there is one solid lead we have for you: the man seen in the surveillance camera footage was last seen on the colony world of Hallian."
"Hallian?" Shepard had only vaguely heard of the place.
"It's the result of a cross-colonization effort between humans and turians in an effort to improve relations between both races. As you can imagine it hasn't gone well and the colony's become nothing but a backwater. The man in the surveillance camera footage we haven't been able to identify, so you'll have to try and find him the old fashioned way."
"Which is?"
"Asking around, Commander. That's the old fashioned way."There was a pause as Hackett forwarded all of the necessary documents to the terminal in front of the Commander. Shepard was somewhat bemused as to the nature of the mission, especially since it sounded quite different to any of her previous ones. Dead alien researchers, most burned alive? Prothean crystals? A backwater colony world? It sounded a bit complicated but she assumed that if it had not been how she and the crew had encountered those ships in orbit around Virmire she would never have been given the mission. There was still the top secret project to do with the crystals that Shepard was a little in the dark about.
"What was the project to do with the crystals, sir?" Shepard asked. There was a long pause as Hackett decided on what to say.
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, Commander," Hackett said, "Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
With that, Hackett closed the channel. Shepard took up a datapad and downloaded all of the forwarded files to it. She found it strange that the Admiral would not be able to tell her necessary information such as the nature of the turian's secret project, especially with her Spectre status. Then again, Hackett would only withhold such information if it was absolutely necessary.
On the screen of the datapad Shepard opened the surveillance camera footage of what had happened to the salarian researcher. It was a shot of a typical set office with windows to one side and some cabinets in one wall. The camera presented a view of a salarian seated at his desk, mostly side-on to the camera which looked down on him at an oblique angle. Seconds into the footage and the door at the end of the room slid open and a shadowy figure entered. Shepard was barely able to make out his face as he marched into the office. The salarian heard the figure enter and seemed to look on with surprise. The pair spoke briefly before the man seemed to turn around, having finished the conversation abruptly. He stood in the doorway for a moment and gazed back at the salarian. Shepard was quite surprised when the salarian's arms burst into flames, the alien staggering around and probably screaming in agony (the surveillance footage was mute). It was only a few seconds before the salarian's entire frame was alight and the man in the doorway simply turned around and left. Shepard stopped the footage there, preferring to not watch the salarian end up nothing but a smoking and charred corpse.
Another of the files provided was a close-up and enhanced image taken from the footage of the mysterious man's face: dark hair, blue eyes and an overall forty-year old appearance. He looked quite ordinary but even Shepard knew that it was often the ordinary looking people that could be the most evil. Not all bad guys had scars on their faces, deep voices and robotic limbs.
There was something that did not add up, primarily when it came to the salarian suddenly being set on fire. What had caused the flames? There was no visible fuel and it would have been hard for the salarian not to notice. Shepard dwelled on these thoughts carefully, deciding that she had probably dawdled enough. Putting the datapad in her pocket she tapped a button on the terminal before her and opened a direct link to the pilot.
"Joker, this is the Commander," Shepard said, "Plot a course for Hallian."
"Hallian, Commander?" Joker sounded confused. "I've never heard of the place."
"Neither have I," Shepard replied, "That's why I'm forwarding the coordinates to your terminal." She manipulated the controls on the terminal before her briefly.
"Got them, Commander," Joker said after a moment's pause, "Though, by the look of it we might be a day or two getting there."
"Just get us there, Joker," Shepard said. With that she closed the channel and started back for her quarters, once again her feelings about the whole situation overtaking her. What about Garrus? He was out there somewhere, stuck with only a Cerberus agent for company. Why couldn't they go after him? Shepard knew that the search would be impossible but she was not just going to give up, not after all they had been through together.
It was these thoughts that were on her mind as she retreated to her quarters, locking the door behind her and sitting at her desk. As Commander she always had a lot of reports to fill out although at this time she did not have the heart to complete them. Instead she simply sat back in her seat and tried her best to forget about Garrus. It did not succeed. He had been snatched out of her life so abruptly that she had not even had a chance to say goodbye. She would find him eventually, she was sure of it.
It was his third night on the alien world with only Colonel Sommers for company and already Garrus Vakarian had begun to go crazy. At least, he was fairly certain he was going crazy. Every night he had spent here was often the same, with noises audible in the dark that otherwise should not be there.
The second day had been spent walking around the surrounding jungle, trying to find any clues as to what might have happened to the Protheans who used to be here. There was no evidence to be found, especially after fifty thousand years. The second night had been slightly more comfortable than the first since Garrus had taken off the armour he wore, leaving on the black under-suit and little else. He had ripped the soft padding underneath the armour off of the protective chassis, using it as a makeshift sort of bedding along with numerous wide shiny green leaves. It made a decently comfortable sort of bed and it certainly beat sleeping on the cold hard ground. Garrus did feel somewhat cold as a result of his lack of armour, thus he spent the next morning breaking apart smaller trees and using their branches to built a shelter which he then covered over with thick layers of jungle leaves.
Hidden amongst the ruins of the village was an ancient mirror…at least, it had once been part of a much larger mirror. Garrus had washed it in the river until it was almost as good as new, catching a glimpse of his face in its reflection. The dark blue paints that were on his face had begun to fade. Usually he would just apply more but he had no paints and thus no means to maintain the markings. Eventually they would fade away completely, leaving him looking like a typical "plain-faced" turian, one that seemed to disregard his tribal heritage. Then again, he figured he could live without them for a while until he found a way to get off of this planet.
His left leg ached somewhat, limiting the walks he took into the jungle and forcing him to take it slow with his work on building the shelter. He had to hobble along on a makeshift walking stick. The lunch of the second day had mainly consisted of the leftover and by now suitably smelly fish that Sommers had caught on their first day here, even though Garrus' turian physiology constantly disagreed with the meal. It was here that Colonel Sommers had begun to display somewhat unstable tendencies, tendencies that were exacerbated by the ones the turian had begun to show. Sure, being alone in a place like this could put anyone on edge but two days after arriving here and they were already beginning to go nuts. Garrus' dinner that night consisted of mostly leaves of the plants that could be found all around the ruined village. One walk during the evening had lead Garrus to find a rather flexible piece of wood, one that had carefully began to craft into a sort of bow. He knew that the Colonel was planning to kill him, it was obvious. Garrus would strike first and he would not ever let his guard down.
Most of that second night was spent by Colonel Sommers' sitting by the fire, the suitcase clutched to his chest while he sung quietly to himself. Garrus had been making the finishing touches to his shelter when he had heard a familiar voice, one that he had not expected to hear again for a while. He looked up and his heart skipped a beat when he saw who was standing a few metres away: Commander Katelyn Shepard, dressed in standard blue Alliance uniform. She smiled at the turian's surprised look and stepped over, her expression strangely reassuring.
"Shepard…" Garrus had said, having found it difficult to form a cohesive sentence, "You found me…"
Shepard seemed to ignore what he said and instead stepped close to him, wrapping one arm around the turian and feeling along the smooth scaly skin at his back.
"This is a nice look for you," Shepard said, "No shirt, just the pants…I like it. It suits you." She traced a finger across the fading dark blue tribal patterns that were painted across the turian's chest. Garrus felt his heart-rate increase somewhat as the Commander seductively felt along his slender but strong turian frame.
Garrus had put an arm around her in return and Shepard had fully embraced him by then. The turian felt a lump at the back of his throat when he realized just how great it was to see her again, to know that she had found him and that they could be together again. He did not want to cry, especially since it had been a mere two days here…although the time difference here and where the Commander had been was probably rather profound, especially since this world was far away from galactic civilization. No tears, he told himself. It had been a long time since he had last cried about anything.
"The Colonel is planning to kill you," Shepard said, "Maybe you should get him first."
"What?" Garrus was surprised to hear her say this, primarily because it completely unsuited what they were doing now. One of Shepard's hands lingered at his waist, pulling on the elastic at the under-suit's trouser part.
"Kill him, Garrus," Shepard said, her tone seductive, "And then we can do whatever we want here. You and me, beneath the stars…It'll be wonderful. We'll do it as many times as you want, in as many different ways. We've done it before, but this time it'll be better. Much, much better."
"I…" Garrus struggled to speak. For some reason she was right: kill Sommers, especially since the bastard was trying to kill him. He would kill Colonel Sommers and he and Shepard could spend the night making love. It struck him that that was one hell of a good deal. "I think you're right, Kate. I'll kill him."
"Good," Shepard said simply.
Garrus blinked then and she was gone, like a phantom in the jungle. He could still feel her touch but she was no longer actually there in front of him. She had vanished like a ghost, or a spectre…That last one was a cruel joke. She was a Spectre, hence she had vanished like one. Garrus had reached one hand out then but could feel only empty air. Maybe if he killed Sommers she would return? It was an absurd notion and it had been then that he had realized that he had begun to go crazy. Maybe Sommers was suffering from it too, especially since he had been singing the same few lines of some human song again and again quietly to himself, clutching the suitcase to him like a teddy bear.
"Every breath you take…and every move you make…every bond you break…every step you take…I'll be watchin' you."
The third night was the one Garrus decided to keep watch on the Colonel. He knew that as soon as he fell asleep the Colonel would kill him and maybe even eat him as well. It was an absurd notion but Garrus could not shake the belief that Sommers would kill him if he slept. Garrus had spent the third day using his powerful talons to shape his bow. He had found a powerful but highly flexible plant and had used its stem as the "string" that would launch the arrows from the bow. He had tied it to the bow itself and had carved several arrows for it. Now he sat up in his makeshift bed, watching the Colonel while occasionally glancing into the darkness of the nearby forest. He could hear voices, most of which were incomprehensible and spoke in hushed tones. He thought he saw Shepard again, standing by the stone wall he slept behind, her face creased into a stern gaze. She wanted him to kill Sommers. Garrus did want to do that but part of his mind told him that it was not the right thing to do.
Sommers was singing a different song on this third night, again one human in origin:
"Hello darkness my old friend…I've come to talk with you again…Because a vision softly creeping…left its seeds while I was sleeping…"
Garrus' gaze went to the pitch black of the forest. Above the stars and the moons shone brightly, providing much needed illumination of the darkened landscape. On part of the stone wall Garrus had used a sharp rock to scratch a few notches, indicating how many days he had been here. Three notches represented three days and he had a feeling he would be adding more as days went by.
There was someone there, standing only metres from where he sat. Garrus raised his bow and fired into the dark on instinct, swearing to whatever higher power was watching over him that Saren Arterius had been standing there mere seconds ago. Alas, there was no one there and the skinny arrow zipped into the forest and became lost.
You've got to get a grip on yourself, Garrus, the turian told himself, this place is making you crazy.
His mind was becoming increasingly blurred, his memories distorted and disordered. He thought that maybe he and Sommers were not alone on this world, that there were others here…perhaps others who were watching them. There was certainly that feeling of being watched and it consistently grew until Garrus was certain that he was being observed, by whom was uncertain. He could not sleep…he would not sleep. However, even sleep was something he could not avoid and as the hours wore on and the Colonel sang the turian dozed off. He awoke several times during the course of the night, thinking he could hear noises. Footsteps, whispers in the dark. He could see silhouettes against the light of the stars and the moons but those people he saw were not actually there…were they?
Garrus slept until late morning with the primitive bow held to his chest. His stay here was only just beginning and whether he liked it or not, things would only get worse.