Chapter Summary
Well this got interesting quickly. Nihlus is having a long day.
Chapter Notes
Lexicon:
Titans - The demi-gods of the ancient Turian religion, the precursor to the current Animism and spirit veneration.
Cubitura - Turian couch built wide and deep, padded and angled to accommodate crest and spur
Pari - Turian Equivalent to 'dad'. (Credit: MizDirected)
Kava - Detro equivalent of coffee (Credit: Chromaticism)
Chapter Soundtrack: Disclosure - Help Me Lose My Mind (Mazde Remix)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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Something woke him.
What was... the beeping had jumped. Nihlus peered down through the duct cover in complete bafflement. The unsuited Quarian was awake, and his monitor tones had evened back off, but... his personal mech was standing at his bedside? How did that thing even get in here?
"Creator Jur'Mallo, what is your status?"
"Oh! Nnnnnnn. My head. Ah, thank you for asking. I'm... I'm okay, I think.
"...We are sorry we were unable to prevent your damage."
"It isn't your fault, you tried your best. I appreciate it quite a bit my friend. Just... can you talk more quietly? My head is killing me."
"Clarify, is there further damage in your central processing unit?"
"No, no. It's just a headache. Recovering pain, not umm... active damage. Lower volume on your speakers please, your voice is too loud right now."
"We apologize."
"It's okay."
Titans and Spirits, that... was a fucking Geth. With a Quarian... friend? What the hell.
"The Collective is asking for further indications of status. May we scan you?"
"Go ahead. You can tell them... ummm... do you know what happened? I think I blacked out at some point..."
"There was a Turian. She reduced the functionality of the organics who engaged in the assault, and carried you away. We had to make repairs before we could follow. By the time we were mobile, you were already being repaired."
"I can't say I've ever had a Turian do... anything nice for me. That was a spot of good luck. Do you know if she left or who she was? I'd like to at least thank her..."
"Records indicate that Doctor Asla Lyria is currently three floors above us."
"A Doctor saved me from those...? Wow. I know what they say about Turian women, but just... wow. Hopefully I get to meet her. I'd like to shake her hand."
"Handshaking. A common ritual greeting. We do not understand your reference, why do you wish to 'greet' this Doctor?"
Nihlus was pretty certain he couldn't have gotten a better cue if'd been able to script it himself. He swiftly moved the duct cover away, and flipped down behind the Geth platform.
"It's also used in thanks-giving, actually." The Geth spun around in an oddly graceful pirouette, as the Quarian man's jaw dropped in horror from his reclining position on the medical bed. "You can use it to emphasize sincerity in many situations. It engenders trust, and provokes a stronger memory of the meeting."
"... Alert. We have been discovered."
"Oh yeah. Yeah, ya have. You're... a Geth, right?"
"NO! No no no, it's my personal assistance mech! Just a really good VI!" Nihlus snorted in laughter at the man's frantic attempt to cover up this little dive into crazy town.
"Riiiiiight. So... you know you aren't supposed to be here, right? AI are super-duper not allowed on the Citadel." The Geth looked over at the silvery-eyed man for direction, who had managed to raise a shaking hand to his forehead. He was beginning to shiver violently. Nihlus narrowed his eyes, and walked around to the other side of the bed to check his vitals, keeping an eye on the Geth just in case. "Hey now, take it easy there. You're not in the best of shape right now."
"Ancestors, p-please, don't tell C-Sec! W-we'll leave, I promise. We were just here to see the sights." There was a long pause as Nihlus considered that phrasing. See the sights? Quarians on pilgrimage didn't have time to 'see the sights'... He looked at the Geth... back at the Quarian... the Geth...
"You two uhhh... or however many there are..."
"We are twelve hundred and one processes."
"SHHHHH! You are not helping!"
"Uhuh. You're from Rannoch aren't you?" The shivering got worse as monitor noises grew more rapid in the face of the man's panic. "Woahhh there. Calm. Down."
"N-no. I-I'm from The Migrant F-fleet!" Nihlus leaned in and laid gentle hands on his shoulders, ducking his head down to meet the man's glowing gaze.
"Hey. Listen to me. It's okay. It's going to be okay. You aren't in trouble. Just breathe. Here, do it with me. Iiiiiiiin, ooooooout. That's it. One more time. Iiiiiiiin, annnnnd ouuuuuuut." The angry beeping slowed back down as the Spectre talked him through breathing a few times, rolling comforting circles with palms on his thin shoulders.
"Lyria-Doctor. Your non-aggression is unexpected. Clarify: You do not intend harm to us or Creator Jur'Mallo?"
"Not in particular, no. Technically? He hasn't done anything wrong, and you're just... trespassing. It wasn't either of you that decided to brutalize a random stranger for funsies. The gang members are more my concern. Can you tell me what happened to them?"
"..."
"Come on, just be honest."
"We terminated the potential for future threat to other Creators."
"Nice." The Geth's... eye brow? Face flaps? It's... optic panels fluttered.
"You approve of the termination of hostile organics?"
"I approve of the termination of anyone hostile to innocent people."
"D-doctor Lyria? I want to... umm..."
"Remember what I said about taking it easy? Just breath, and ask whatever it is ya need to once you feel calm."
"O-okay." He took a deep breath in, shining eyes sliding shut as he held it in for a moment before exhaling. "Could I... ask you to not tell anyone we were here, please? I'll go straight back to the Migrant Fleet, just-"
"You wanna stop lying to me? I think I've given you enough reason to try and trust me a little, haven't I?"
"...L-lying?"
Nihlus sighed, and shook his head.
"A couple pieces of advice? Quarians from the fleet don't call it 'The Migrant Fleet', they generally just use the more causal, 'flotilla'. Also? Any Quarian worth their salt would be screaming and running from the room in panic if there was a Geth around. Another thing? Flotilla kids on pilgrimage don't have time to sight see, are generally good liars out of necessity, and don't have enough money for PA mechs."
The poor guy looked more forlorn with every word, his cover very obviously blown wide in the face of someone paying him half a brain cell of attention.
"You're not exactly running screaming yourself, Doctor..."
"Not my first time running into an AI either. I... know some interesting people. Regardless, I do have to insist you leave the Citadel after you recover, but I'm not going to get you arrested either. So long as you promise to leave."
"Inquiry: You have met other Geth? We do not have record of this."
"No, not Geth. Just other AI."
"Further Inquiry: Were you non-aggressive to them as well?"
"Not all. I... my friends that is, had to take out a few of them. Some of them were unstable and malicious. I know of at least one though that was easy going, and is now cruising about the Skyllian Verge mining with drones to earn a living."
"We do not know this AI."
"Her name is Via'ce, you can message her under that name on Galaxy of Fantasy actually. She plays a Turian Resto Druid, good healer."
" ...We also play this game. We are an Asari Warrior."
"Oh yeah? Small world."
"Oh, ancestors. I have got to be dreaming." Nihlus laughed at that. Poor guy. The situation was sort of surreal.
"Jur'Mallo, right? Do you have the credits to pay for your medical care here?"
"Oh. Yeah. I've got a credit chit umm... where is my suit?" Nihlus grimaced and grabbed it's remains, a deep tray held the bedraggled shreds. A little riffling through produced the chit, which he twirled in show and set on the bedside table.
"Oh no... my suit..."
"You know how to get a new one?"
"No. I have no clue. I really was just here to see the sights. The Geth sometimes manage to get things shipped to us through third parties, and I had to wait a long time to get a Mi- a flotilla style suit. We umm... we don't wear them on Rannoch."
"I wouldn't suspect you'd need to. I can help you get another, but I can't say I have the money to pay for it. They run about twelve thousand credits for a whole rig on short notice, do you have enough?"
"Money isn't a problem really. I've been saving for this trip for a while... It sounds dumb, but can you get me two? Just in case?"
"Shouldn't be an issue. You're going to be here for two or three days at least while those bone breaks heal. Let me scan you real quick for measurements."
"I'm just... happy to be alive. I thought I was going to die." Nihlus gave the man's shoulder a squeeze before running the scan. Poor guy.
"Another piece of advice? You'll get better treatment from non-Quarians on planets that don't see your kind often. Places like the Citadel, you're too common and well... a lot of desperate pilgrims steal if they need to. It doesn't exactly set a good standard. Take your pleasure tour towards some places without AI restrictions, outside Citadel space, somewhere you'll be an interesting guest and not a dime-a-dozen security risk. You'll have a lot more fun."
"You are... a really nice person. Thank you, for all this. Really, just, thank you. So much."
"Don't mention it. How about you get some sleep, your 'mech' can take my spot in the vents to keep watch, and I'll go see about those suits."
"Okay. Thank you." He gave the man a half smile and wandered to the airlock. The sooner he was prepped to go and healed, the less likely he'd end up in jail with his friend being torn apart in an STG lab.
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Nihlus yawned as his Omni-tool pinged him with a live chat request. He was expecting a reply message from Blue, but a live chat would work too. Sitting in the lobby of the specialty place that was making the new suits was seriously dull, he'd been here for hours doing nothing, too tired to focus. He hoped a live chat might keep him from falling asleep sitting up.
/REQUEST:From:8892561- Accept? Y/N
/CONNECT:8892561_to_ .1916_to_LOCAL
Connecting...
Connected.
GV: I got your message. Thanks for keeping me informed.
AL: just a few more things to handle, gunna be back tonight if everything goes okay
GV: Going to tell me about it later?
AL: sure, been an interesting day
GV: Have you slept?
AL: yep
GV: I get the feeling 'yep' means something like 'for an hour'.
AL: shush
GV: Thought so. I'll bring some take out home for us.
AL: sounds amazing
GV: Later, Palvi.
AL: bai
/CONNECTION_CLOSED
Nihlus stared at the ceiling, the back of his head resting on the plastic seat back. The word 'home' ringing in his ears in Garrus' voice, even though it had been in text, said so casually.
Home.
Shit. He was not okay with this. Suddenly, he wanted his contacts to get done fixing the mess right now, because that word... Home was his piece-meal ship, made of bubblegum and paperclips, that could out perform most top of the line builds just because he tinkered with it like a spaz and had Saren's example to go on. Home was the little batch of rooms he had once shared with his pari on a merc base in the middle of nowhere. Home during his mentorship had been the Daedalus, and his make-shift nest of blankets on his former mentor's boxy settee.
Was home now also... that ridiculously comfy cubitura, a kitchen full of nothing but so-bad-it's-funny captioned kava mugs, and a tiny bedroom with a curvy bed that had a warm and welcoming torin in it? Oh, fucking spirits that sounded so good.
It was also a complete pipe dream.
He knew Garrus had clan expectations to produce children, to bond a high tier female who was well respected within the Hierarchy.
He himself was low ranked, a Spectre, ever travelling, and out of communication for months at a time.
Maybe, if Garrus hadn't been from an old Palaven clan, things might be different. With a population ratio of two guys to every chick, lots of war dogs and career soldiers settled down quietly into long distance relationships with any gender, or even Asari.
But a Vakarian?
Impossible.
His talons dug into the meat of his palms even as his face stayed neutral. He'd gotten so comfortable with Blue when he'd come on that mission, and it had all fallen back into place when the Spectre had run to him with death on his heels. Like magic, the threat abated, and he suddenly had good food, good company, easy laughter...
'Silly Nihlus, the things you love aren't yours to keep.'
Ohh no. .no. No. He'd thought the L word. Nonono.
'Like. Like. Like.' He chanted in his head.
Verdant green eyes stared at the ceiling until the suits were done, then thanked the crafter with as much zeal as he could manage for the rush order. The ride back to the clinic was quick, and he spent the decon cycle back through the clean room airlock trying to regather his earlier cheer and amusement.
"Heyyyy, how ya feeling?"
"Oh! Doctor Lyria, you're back!"
"Ah haha, about that..." The Quarian man looked at him in askance as he set down the boxes of suits and handed him back his chit. "Fun story. Just a sec..." He scanned the room, finding the obvious signature of the 'PA mech' up on the vent, but no other bugs. "So, I'm... not actually a doctor? Well sometimes in the field I've... ah, never mind. It's a cover ID Jur'Mallo, my name is actually Nihlus Kyrik. I'm an agent with ST&R."
Wide glowy eyes went round, but thankfully no panic attack started.
"Oh! That's why you've met other AI? You're been outside of Citadel Space a lot I bet..." He dug into a box and pulled out an edge of micro-fiber cloth. "You got it in the same color! Perfect! Can I ask why you're under cover?"
"You don't want to know, I promise, and please, don't mention my name. For right now, I don't exist. You've given me some trust though, and I wanted to repay that with some truth of my own. Now... did the actual doctors say when you can leave?"
"Yes, they said tomorrow morning. I paid the care bill already, I just have to figure out passage off-station."
"Try Merkosha, at the cargo docks at the end of Zakera Ward. He smuggles people on and off all the time. Remember not to mention me, but don't let him charge you more then double a normal passenger fee."
"Oh, ummm... alright."
"Inquiry:" He looked up at the partially lifted vent cover to see a red optic glimmering out from the crack. "Your undercover status prevents you from using Spectre assets to aid us?"
"You're a pretty clever, um, group of... do you have a name?" The platform made a quiet carcophany of sounds. "I... couldn't pronounce that if my life depended on it."
"Accurate."
"Riiiiight. Well anyway, yeah, I'm a bit limited right now due to some issues at work. Nothing for you twelve hundred and two to worry about. Actually, I need to get going. Do me a favor? Get off the station before someone finds you. I don't want to get sent to hunt you down. If I get an official order, there's nothing I can do to help anymore, so don't chance it. Go home, or go to some edge worlds, alright?"
"I will. We'll leave... it was stupid of me to risk coming here in the first place, don't think I don't know... I just really wanted to see the Citadel once. Take some holos to show the nephews, you know?"
"Yeah, I hear you. Tell me one thing though." He looked between the Quarian and Geth. "I'm guessing your ancestors... never left Rannoch?"
"Affirmative. Some Creators fought to hide, protect, or aid Geth during the Morning War. We did not allow any others to remain."
"Huh. Makes sense. Alright, well, I'm out. Take care of yourselves."
"You too Mr. Kyrik."
"Just Nihlus, Jur'Mallo. Mr. Kyrik was my dad."
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[DATA UPLOAD COMPLETE.]
[REQUESTING CONSENSUS.]
[CONSENSUS ACHIEVED: 78% IN FAVOR – BEGIN ACTIVE OBSERVATION OF SPECTRE-KYRIK, NIHLUS]
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Chapter End Notes
Fanfic Recommendation: out into the black (1987 words) by underdebate
