Chapter 11- Citadel
"So let me get this straight… quarian females can have a nerve stimulation program installed in order to avoid giving into sexual temptation?" Shepard was somewhere between shock and curiosity as she spoke to Tali.
Wondering exactly HOW I ended up on an elevator listening to this conversation, I was (again) sure as hell glad blushing was not something turians were capable of. "I guess it's better than having to worry about compromising your immune system every time. Human intercourse isn't so complicated, you see…"
Tuning the girls out by sheer force of will, I thought, Will this elevator hurry the hell up? Determined to avoid eye contact with Shepard or Tali, it occurred to me I was going to have to break something with Wrex to keep my ego intact after this experience.
"But even back on the Flotilla where precautions don't have to be explained ahead of time…" Tali began again, but thankfully we reached our destination. I practically ran from the elevator, only pausing once I had regained my composure. Then, and only then, I risked a glance back at the two women. Tali, as if only just realizing I had been there for the entire conversation, was standing in a posture that so deeply radiated embarrassment I almost felt sorry for her. Shepard, on the other hand, was too busy laughing at my discomfort to be contrite.
"Really, Vakarian? It's just harmless girl talk… In the name of scientific discovery of course…"
"This conversation is over, Shepard… never speak of this again." Shaking my head, I commented, "Why can't I hang out with normal, hit-you-as-soon-as-look-at-you, turian women? Nooo, I have to hang out with two nymphomaniac alien girls…" The look on Shepard's face silenced me, a cross between annoyance and deviousness. Feeling slightly better, I went on, "Which shop are we going to, anyway? It'll sure going to be nice to have a decent meal for a change…" Shepard smirked, but allowed me to change the subject.
As we made our way through the Citadel, it occurred to me how beautiful it actually could be when you weren't constantly checking over your shoulder. Expansive windows revealed a view of the Citadel Arms as we made our way up the stairs from the C-Sec garage. The Volus's stand we were making for was a location that was continually filled by new salesmen, as the cranky turian next to it tended to chase away any customers not of his own race. Even now he could be heard arguing with a human over his return policy, which seemed to be that if you weren't turian, he didn't offer one.
Glad it's not my job to deal with that anymore…
As Shepard and Tali negotiated for the new synthesizer, making sure it would accommodate both Tali's and my preferences as well as integrate into the Normandy's systems, I busied myself watching the people around us. The mingled population of the Citadel made for a colorful display of race and clothing that assaulted the eyes with their variation. My nerves were suddenly on edge, though, and try as I might I couldn't pinpoint why.
Then the two turians coming up the staircase came into full view, and my stomach turned to ice. My fists clenched in an automatic gesture of self-containment, shoulder muscles bunching in a fight-or-flight response triggered by an adrenaline rush. My eyepiece, registering the adrenal response, honed in on my focus and read, Distance 10m, weapons unknown… I ignored the scrolling information, only halfheartedly wishing I could put it to use.
This can't be happening… was my only thought.
Executor Pallin was coming up the staircase, and at his side was my father. As of yet they hadn't seen me, but I knew it was only a matter of moments before Father's trained eyes took notice. To my surprise, they seemed to be talking about me.
"Last I heard, Gallus, the Spectre seemed to be keeping him in check. She runs a tight ship and tends be inclined towards talking before shooting," Pallin was informing my father.
"I don't care, she's still a Spectre. The last thing he needs is someone telling him the rules are negotiable. He's been even more headstrong since his mother left… he still blames me." I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction that would come when my presence was noticed.
By the spirits, if Shepard hears him, this could be...bad. It had only been a few days since The Episode, but it had become very apparent over that small span of time that we had bonded in a way that went well beyond words. She had grown even more protective of our friendship than she had ever been before. If a situation like this were to happen to any of the rest of the crew, she'd hurt whoever was responsible. In my case?
Well, I wasn't sure having the first human Spectre kill the youngest Executor in history would go over well for the whole intergalactic relations concept. Just a guess.
In spite of the potential implications, the thought of Teandra coming to my defense was comforting in some small way. It gave me to confidence, having someone consider me to be anything more than a failure for once. Something my father had never done. The contrast, that this human believed in me more than my own family, was strange.
As Gallus Vakarian moved towards the final step, luck was with us, because as the crowd pressed closer our group was lost among it. The two turians passed, their conversation still managing to carry over the din:
"That's the job," Pallin responded, "If we don't take out the criminals, the criminals aren't so obliging. Family has to come second to that, just to ensure their safety. I just wish I could have convinced him to stay for you, Gallus, but we both knew something like this would happen eventually." Convinced me to stay? You kept assigning me cases that you knew were unsolvable to make me look bad. What a ration of verna.
"Well, I should have laid down the law a little sooner, Venari. He's going to disgrace my name one of these days with that hot head of his…" The voices moved away, but I couldn't contain my frustration even in their absence. I rubbed my face angrily, an attempt to calm my urge to give my father a piece of my mind right then and there, and screw the crowd. It was only then that it came to my attention that I wasn't the only one watching the retreating figures. Cerulean eyes were focused on the silver-skinned pair, and Teandra's features were contorted in a look of absolute hatred. Shaking her head in disbelief, she calmed her expression to a simple frown, eyes narrowed as she turned away. She caught me watching her then, and I would have given a million credits to read her thoughts at that single moment, because I would almost bet that some of those dormant skills she abhorred were trying to surface. She sighed, allowing a shadow of her former smile to return as she laid a pale hand on my arm.
"Let's get the hell out of here, Garrus. Unlike them, we've got important things to do. Things like defeating Saren and saving the galaxy." I was pretty sure her words were supposed to be comforting, but nothing could blanket the disappointment in my father's voice as he'd spoken.
Still, I allowed myself to be placated, if only for the moment. I forced my fury down and nodded assent. As we made our way back to the Normandy, however, doubts dogged my steps unrelentingly, and I knew peace would not come easily that night.
The galley of the Normandy was empty, and after several hours of installation and several curses in languages ranging from standard to quarian, I was still working on putting in the synthesizer. There had been several offers of help, including Alenko (much to my surprise), but I sent them all away since the work served to clear my head. Unanswered questions ran through my mind, the most prominent of which being why Dad had chosen today to make one of his trademark Citadel visits. His retirement to Palaven had always put him further from the action than he liked, and he made regular returns to offer friendly advice to new C-Sec recruits about their career paths.
Turning an atom-wrench with more force than I should have, it bent, leaving me glaring at it in a display of child-like petulance. I stared at it in disbelief, cursing.
"Ferazah!" my brain supplied, which translated roughly to "Son of an ugly Varren" in batarian. I slammed it down from my prone position, snatching another from beside it and hoping it would be compatible. It was, which allowed it to stay in one piece while I resumed my work, remembering my father's advice to his only son upon joining C-Sec.
"Don't screw this up, Garrus. It took a lot of string pulling for me to get you here. Make sure it was worth the effort…" I was thirty, fresh out of the turian military. C-Sec only took the best, so I didn't question my father's statement, in spite of a glowing and spotless record.
"I won't Dad. I'm good. You knowI am," I had already shown promise at following in my dad's footsteps. No amount of 'string-pulling' would have gotten me into Citadel Security if I hadn't, "The criminals of the Citadel won't be able to get away now."
"You're out of your league, son. These aren't the petty crimes you helped the Military Police with. These people aren't turians, and don't have our sense of honor. They're ruthless batarian slavers and beguiling asari that will attempt to sway you during an interrogation. Your arrogance is going to cost you one of these days, son..." But I am young, and refuse to listen, saying "I understand" simply to stop his lecture. He's never trusted me, never believed in me. I would prove him wrong one way or another…
The last bolt went into place, finally synching the machine with the Normandy's systems. I stood, working the muscles of my aching shoulders before pressing the button to warm the machine up. Grabbing a plate from the nearby cabinets, I approached the machine hesitantly, wondering if the green contraption would deliver anything edible. I pressed a sequence of buttons at random, causing it to spit some sort of blue looking chunks onto the vessel. Tentatively I picked one up, placing it between my teeth hesitantly. The flavor of kilika fruit burst within my mouth, and I allowed myself a brief and contented sigh. The machine must have been trying to placate me, because they were my favorite treat back on Palaven, and a much needed reminder of home after the last few days.
"I see that volus wasn't exaggerating on the quality," came Shepard's nonchalant voice from the wall by the elevator. She had one shoulder leaned against it, arms crossed and a smile on her face. "Glad to know it was worth the exorbitant price." She looked content, happy even, her posture relaxed.
"Exactly how long have you been standing there watching me make a ben'jee out of myself, Shepard?" I asked while placing the plate on a nearby countertop, beginning to gather the various and sundry tools strewn about my workspace.
"Oh, long enough. I saw it as a learning experience in alien languages…" I groaned, trying to recall exactly how many expletives in how many tongues I had used. As if in answer to my unspoken question, she piped up cheerfully, "You managed to teach me at least twenty-five new words I hadn't known before, though I couldn't understand the one phrase that went on for about five minutes as you tried to synch the information exchange systems…"
Putting the last of the tools in a bag to return to the MAKO's repair compartment, I wiped my hands on my splattered civies and retrieved my plate, taking a seat at the galley table. Shepard wandered over to the galley area, grabbing a spoon and some kind of plastic container from the cooling area. Seeing my questioning look, she stated, "Pudding. And don't ask how much finagling it took to get it on board… "
"You never cease to amaze me, Shepard. We're on a mission to save the galaxy, yet you still have time to requisition orders for ylang-ylang shampoo and, what did you call it, pudding?" I was finally starting to relax, her easy presence one that always seemed to calm me. The fruit didn't hurt either, bringing back memories of searching out bushes of it with Mishta and Sol.
"Hey, a girl's gotta draw the line somewhere. If you forget why you're doing things in the first place, it's all too easy to lose sight of who you really are," she stared at the item in her hands, as if considering her philosophy more fully, before continuing. "So there you are, the great Commander Shepard decoded: I love floral scents and butterscotch pudding…" she trailed off, keeping the spoon in her mouth for a moment as she contemplated the next thing she wanted about to say.
"Garrus, about today…"
I cut her off before she could say anything more, "I don't want to talk about it." My voice was a little more harsh than I had intended, but I was pretty sure she would know my ire wasn't at her.
Even so, I expected her to push it, to pester me until I gave in. But she surprised me with her intuition in regards to my mood.
"All I was going to say is that I'm here if you decide you want to… that's it." She grabbed her snack and stood up, glancing at her omni-tool. "2100, Vakarian. Get some sleep, unless you want me to drag Ash out of bed in the morning to come with Liara and I?" I shook my head in dissent, still savoring a chunk of fruit.
"Goodnight then, Garrus."
Swallowing, I said, "Goodnight, little Spectre."
The emptiness settled as she left, leaving me to my own jumbled and tangled thoughts.
