Chapter 48. Seditio
Moments like this, Garrus really wished he could see through the mask.
Tali didn't make a sound after he broke the news to her about Williams. No tears (did quarians cry? Spirits, he didn't know). She angled her head away from him, staring off to the side of her medical bed, hands clasped across her stomach. One of Garrus' talons flicked as he almost reached for her hand, then changed his mind when her fists clenched and dropped it hastily back in his lap.
"I'm sorry," he said instead.
Useless platitudes. Ashley Williams was worth a lot more than I'm sorry. So was Tali.
After a long silence, during which Garrus fidgeted with his talons and Tali remained painfully still, a small sigh escaped her throat. Over her vocal emitters it sounded more like a wheeze.
"We were going to watch Fleet and Flotilla after the mission."
A mandible flared. "Fleet and…what?"
She shook her head, the crisp white sheets underneath her whispering with each swish. "Nothing. I…how is Kaidan?"
"Alenko?" Garrus asked, slowly realizing he was woefully underprepared for this conversation. "Um, not sure. He seemed ok when we left the Normandy."
He looked down in surprise as one hand came to rest on Garrus' arm. The golden silhouette of her eyes beneath the faceplate scrutinized him carefully. "He's probably not okay. Please check on him for me. Will you?"
"Of course," he replied, not entirely sure how to broach that subject with a human. It seemed like something that fell more into Shepard's territory, but Shepard had devoted enough time to checking up on his crewmates. In fact, it might not be a bad idea for one of them to check on him every now and then.
Nearby Dr. Rezora fiddled with one of the machines hooked into Tali's suit – one of three, which was down from five yesterday. Garrus considered that progress. Progress was good.
Dr. Michel smiled at him as she passed by. Dr. Rezorah had wanted to take Tali to some place on the Presidium, but Garrus had objected. She was a member of Shepard's crew, and if Saren had any contacts left within the Citadel they'd come gunning for her. Garrus trusted Dr. Michel, and she knew a thing or two about quarians to boot. Besides, there was a certain irony to being here yet again, where their chase for Saren had started.
He didn't let himself wonder if this was also where it was going to finish.
No. Shepard was down, not out.
Dr. Rezorah disconnected one of the tubes hooked into Tali's suit with a hiss of air (two – two down from five was more progress) and tapped a few commands into her omnitool. Her rich blue suit sported gold trim that was elegant but much more subdued than many of the quarian suits Garrus had seen. Any attempts to initiate conversation had been politely deflected, so he'd resigned himself to monitoring the door and contemplating some additional security protocols he could lay down before leaving.
"The azerpan is producing favorable results," Rezorah said in a clipped, businesslike tone. Her voice had a similar lilt to Tali's, but lacked its warmth. With a satisfied nod she bustled away.
Tali leaned towards him conspiratorially. "I think she's afraid of my father," she whispered.
Garrus tilted his head in confusion.
"Treating the Admiral's daughter?" she prodded, elbowing him weakly. "Hate to blow that one, wouldn't you?
"Well, if it were my father I'd be bracing myself for a lecture on my fundamental lack of understanding when it comes to the benefits of taking cover."
She patted his talons. "I think we have a monopoly on difficult parents."
"Or at least a keen understanding of them," he concurred.
"Garrus?" Tali asked after a moment, her voice sounding even smaller and more vulnerable than it had a moment ago. He shifted again in his seat, leaning forward and torqueing his talons under her hand so he could squeeze her fingers.
"Yes?" he asked, thankful she couldn't detect the small flange of alarm that ran through his subharmonics.
"Do you think the Normandy will leave without me?"
His mandibles flared in surprise. "Tali, we're not going anywhere. The Council put us all on lockdown. We're stuck."
She readjusted her shoulders to give herself a better angle, and Garrus found himself leaning forward just a little so she could see him better without having to move any more than necessary. They had her lying flat, something to do with the medication, making her primary visual field consist mostly of the ceiling.
"Shepard's going to figure something out, though," she insisted. "He's not going to stay stuck here. And if something happens, something sudden…" She sighed. "I guess I just don't like the idea of not being there. We've come so far. We're so close!"
He squeezed her hand again. "When we take down Saren, you'll be there. I promise."
Tali's shoulders relaxed. They were just words, and both of them knew it, but somehow they still provided comfort.
"I still can't believe you got out of the Mako to attack one of those colossal things on foot. It nearly gave me a heart attack."
"But it worked, didn't it?"
Garrus chuckled. "It sure did. You're in a league of your own, Tali."
His omnitool chirped, again. Already he'd gotten more than a couple of messages from old C-Sec contacts asking if he was going to re-join the force now that he was back on the Citadel. A few of them had come from people who only hoped he'd try just so Pallin could shoot him down, and he was tired of ignoring them.
But when he looked at the sender of the message his mandible flicked. Shepard.
Get your ass out here fast. I'm in the upper Ward markets.
Damn, Garrus thought. A quick tap into C-Sec channels revealed no emergency alerts for this part of the station, which at least meant no weapons discharge. Yet. Though with Shepard that could sure change in a hurry.
Garrus had a sidearm, but nothing heavier. It would have to be enough. No time to grab his rifle.
"Tali, I have to go," he said, the alarm creeping back strong enough that it resonated on a frequency a non-turian could detect. "It's Shepard. I think something's wrong."
By the time Garrus reached the markets he'd convinced himself that an army of Saren's men had somehow managed to corner the commander and were ready to execute him. So when he found Shepard standing at ease near a kiosk, engaged in conversation with another human and no imminent threat apparent, it took a minute to regroup.
Upon closer inspection he noted the bored cross of Shepard's arms over his chest, the glassy, checked-out expression on his face and the faint twitch at the corner of his eyes, much like the one Garrus had seen in abundance in Port Hanshan. The other human did not appear to be anyone particularly special – not a diplomat, not a reporter. Just a civilian with moderate build and blonde fringe that surrounded his mouth and covered his head, who radiated undisguised awe towards Shepard.
"They say you killed over a hundred geth on Eden Prime!"
Shepard cleared his throat, a pained expression crossing his face. "Well, I was more concerned with stopping the colony from blowing up than counting bodies," he replied.
"Oh, of course. All the vids talk about what a hero you are. First human Spectre, showing the galaxy what humans can do! You don't take crap from anyone."
Shepard rubbed the back of his neck, looking more desperate by the second. "Well. Um. It's a big responsibility."
The human's eyes lit up, and he reached out suddenly to touch Shepard's arm. The commander's eyes narrowed, and for a moment Garrus thought he might actually pull out his pistol.
"Shepard," the overeager human asked. "I have an idea I'd like to run by you."
Shepard swiftly tugged his arm away, trying and failing to conceal his displeasure. "Look, I don't have time to—"
"So many human colonies are being attacked! I'm not sure one Spectre is enough. What if you signed me on, too?"
Shepard pressed his fingers to his forehead, free hand gesturing in irritation. "Conrad, I haven't been shot in the head nearly enough times for that to sound like a good idea."
Garrus snorted, quickly putting a talon up to his mouth to stifle the sound.
"I'd make a great Spectre! Fighting right beside you, showing everyone what humanity is capable of! I heard about what you did on Torfan. I'm ready to do whatever it takes."
Shepard's shoulders snapped backward, the pained expression vanishing from his face. In a flash Garrus managed to wedge himself between them, clamping a talon down on the commander's shoulders and pushing an urgent flare through his subharmonics.
"Shepard, quick. The Council needs to see you right away." His eyes darted to the awestruck human. "It's…uh, a matter of galactic security."
Shepard's shoulders sagged with relief. He offered the human a strained smile. "Sorry, Conrad. I have to go."
"Oh, of course. Good luck, out there, Shepard! And think about what I said!"
Garrus steered Shepard away, not daring to let go of his shoulder until they were well clear.
"Thank God," Shepard muttered.
"Who was that?"
Shepard ran a thumb across his forehead. "I have no idea. Some…fan. Garrus. Who the hell would want a photo of me in their living room?"
"He asked for a picture?"
"Yeah. And not with me. Of me. You know, it's been bad enough having reporters follow me around everywhere. Ever since Elysium it's like they sit around and wait to see how I can either make myself look like an ass or sound like an ass. I nearly decked one who jumped me with a camera crew at the docking elevator in C-Sec. But this new trend of random people coming up and wanting my autograph? I think I'd rather fight rachni."
"Commander Shepard," Garrus mused. "Goes toe to toe with Saren without a lick of fear, but can't handle civilians looking for an autograph."
"Yeah, you can't shoot civilians when they annoy you."
"That almost didn't stop you just now."
"Do me a favor and don't tell anyone."
Garrus laughed. "So what are you doing down here, anyway?"
"Stocking up," Shepard replied. "I'm finding a way off this station somehow, and I when we get our hands on Saren I plan to be armed to the teeth."
Armed to the teeth. Garrus almost asked how humans armed their teeth, but changed his mind quickly when he noticed that even though they'd moved to a more secluded area, a crowd had already begun to form. Curious onlookers all eying Shepard, debating whether or not to approach him. With a narrow slant of his eyes Shepard began walking towards the nearest elevator. Garrus followed.
"Have you checked with C-Sec requisitions? They supply Spectre gear you can't get from most merchants."
Garrus nearly tripped when Shepard halted mid-stride. "Wait. They have weapons and armor designated specifically for Spectres?"
"Prototype gear." Garrus tilted his head. "You mean you didn't know?"
"Well there isn't exactly a Spectre handbook floating around."
Garrus coughed. Shepard's expression became instantly wary.
"Don't even tell me."
"I'm sure we were just in such a hurry to get after Saren that no one thought about it? Besides, somehow I doubt you would have read it."
"You're telling me they have weapons and armor designated just for Spectres. That would have come in a little handy a couple of times."
Garrus' mandibles quivered. "Well, better late than never, I guess. Come on, I'll take you to the requisitions officer."
"If we run into any reporters on the way, I can't promise I won't shoot them."
"I won't let you shoot a reporter. Or a civilian."
"Thank you. I'd rather not lose my ship and wind up in custody all in the same day."
"Even if you did, sir, it sounds like your friend Conrad would come to the rescue."
Garrus felt Shepard's glare without needing to turn around.
"Garrus."
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
"No problem, sir."
Shepard turned the assault rifle over in his hands, the pinched lines of his face considerably smoother. Garrus couldn't help but note it was the happiest he'd seemed all day.
"HMWA X," the requisitions officer said. He was turian, someone Garrus had met before but couldn't remember his name. "Top of the line. Uses experimental alloysy to improve heat absorption, and has incredible recoil reduction made possible by rapidly oscillating mass effect fields that adjust mass as the weapon fires."
"Adjust it how?" Shepard asked.
"It goes lighter and heavier between rounds. Each unit requires precise calibrations to match slight variations in fire rate, but it reduces recoil and heat generation, and increases stopping power by firing larger slugs for the same power usage. It's not available on the market. You won't find a better assault rifle."
"I'll take it. What else have you got?"
"The HMW line has prototypes in a lot of different weapon classes. Pistols, shotguns, sniper rifles…"
Shepard glanced at Garrus, who was not able to restrain a low trill of envy. He'd seen the specs of the HMWASR. It wasn't information he was supposed to have access to, but he'd managed to obtain it after a night of a little too much drinking with Etan Velka, a fellow marksman he'd served with during his tour with the Hierarchy who'd paid him a visit the last time he'd been on the Citadel.
"I want one of everything," Shepard replied.
Garrus nearly choked. He leaned towards Shepard, keeping his voice low. "Have you seen what those weapons cost?"
Shepard raised his eyebrow. "Have you seen how many credits we've accumulated just cataloguing minerals and retrieving salvage?" He turned his attention back to the requisitions officer. "Let's talk armor."
The turian on the other side of the desk flicked a mandible, and pushed a datapad towards him. "I believe this is going to be along the lines of what you're looking for. Made by Kassa Fabrications. Energized plating redirects energy from incoming projectiles rather than negating the slug like standard shielding. Sacrifices shield strength, but the armor plating stops whatever the shields can't bleed off. Wearing this hardsuit is a lot like wearing a tank."
Shepard glanced over the specs, then flashed a grin at Garrus. "And it even comes in black and red. Put it on the list."
"Absolutely, Commander."
"I also need something with top of the line shielding. Resistance to ECM and biotic attacks would be helpful. What have you got?"
"Armax Arsenal, Predator line. The strongest shield emitters on the market or off of it, programmed for random frequency oscillation to provide better protection from ECM attacks. Improved ablative coating, a miniframe computer with redundant life support system and higher threat detection capabilities, not to mention micro mass effect generators that can withstand biotic attacks and provide extra protection against a physical assault."
Shepard mulled over the datapad, an almost fiendish look of joy in his eyes. "Alenko is going to lose his shit when he sees the specs on this. Speaking of which, what kind of amps do you have available? Serrice Council amps, specifically."
Before the requisitions officer could reply Shepard's omnitool chirped. He looked down in mild annoyance, but his expression smoothed quickly, becoming keen and sharp in the space of an eye blink. "It's Anderson," he said grimly. He glanced hastily back at the requisitions officer. "Dammit, I still have four crew members to outfit." He pulled out his omnitool. "You know what? I'm transferring you their contact information. Give them access to the full catalogue and tell them to pick out gear. No prices. That's for me to worry about. Get them whatever they want and my requisitions officer will arrange for credit transfer and delivery." Shepard shot a glance at Garrus. "That means you, too, Vakarian. Get something shiny."
Garrus coughed. "They make the Colossus for turians, don't they?"
"There is a turian model, yes," the officer replied. He looked a little dazed. Garrus started mentally calculating the commission he was about to earn and thought he'd be pretty dazed, too.
"Then make it two."
Shepard nodded in satisfaction. "If my requisitions officer has a stroke, my XO will handle any signatures. Got it?"
"Absolutely…sir."
"Great. Garrus, come on." He rubbed his hands together. "I've got a good feeling about this."
Garrus' mandibles flared with anticipation. "I'm right behind you."
Flux casino was no different than it had been when Shepard had last set foot in here, just hours after becoming a Spectre. The music was still too loud, with so much bass he could feel it in his chest, yet it still got drowned out by the constant ching of the Quasar terminals above the dance floor. Overcrowded, fluorescent lights cast skeins of neon color on the dancing patrons, nearly all of whom moved their hips and waved their arms in such an insular fashion they might have been the only beings left in the galaxy.
Isolation even among a crowd of people was something Shepard remembered quite well.
He rolled his shoulder and stretched his neck before taking in a breath and striding towards his old Captain, who waited for them at a table swirling a glass of something that was probably scotch, glancing around with uncharacteristic discomfort. Anderson nodded a greeting as Shepard slid into the seat across from him. Garrus followed suit, eyes casually scanning the room. Identifying sightlines and exits, Shepard thought to himself with a flash of pride.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
The captain tapped a finger against his glass, then raised it up and took a healthy sip. When a red-headed waitress approached to take Shepard's order, he waved her off.
"I'm going to get you into the Terminus systems," Anderson said once she was gone.
Shepard shifted in his seat. "How? The only ship that can get me there undetected is grounded. Without that stealth drive I won't even make Ilos' orbit."
Anderson grimaced, running his tongue over his teeth. "That's why you need the Normandy."
Shepard managed to conceal his surprise, placing his elbows on the table and leaning forward with a quick glance around them. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
"Citadel Control locked out the Normandy's systems, but Ambassador Udina gave the order," the captain replied. "If I can hack into his account I can rescind it. So long as you're ready when those docking clamps retract, you'll be in the Terminus systems before anyone even realizes you're gone."
Shepard exhaled slowly. Beside him, Garrus flicked a mandible, but thankfully remained silent.
"If we steal the Normandy…that leaves you holding the bag."
Anderson gave him a long, hard look. "I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you back on that ship and off this station."
The hair on the back of Shepard's neck prickled. Beside him Garrus stirred, his hard-ingrained turian military discipline making it impossible to remain silent.
"You're talking about treason," he said, an urgent flange in his subvocals.
Anderson steepled his fingers, then took another pull from his glass. "Small price to pay, wouldn't you say?"
Shepard leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest. "What's your plan?"
"Udina has a meeting this afternoon with an elcor diplomat." He paused, casting a quick glance at Shepard. "He has a bad habit of leaving an active terminal in his office."
"You're going to break into the Admiral's office and use his computer?" Garrus said. "What if he doesn't leave it active?"
"Captain Anderson knows his way around encryption," Shepard supplied, eyes never leaving Anderson's face. The captain nodded.
Garrus exhaled. "It's still risky."
"We don't have a lot of options," Anderson replied.
Shepard rubbed his temple. "This plan assumes an entire crew of Alliance officers is going to go along with mutiny."
"They know what's at stake, Shepard." The look Anderson gave him was one Shepard had been on the receiving end of many times before. "Do you remember what I asked you when you became a Spectre?"
(Alenko and Williams. They would follow any order I gave them, wouldn't you agree?)
(Of course.)
(But what would happen if you gave one that contradicted it?)
Shepard cleared his throat. He could feel Garrus' questioning gaze, but studiously avoided it. "Okay, then. So mutiny it is. Just tell me when."
"Call your crew back to the ship. Discreetly. But be sure everyone who's coming with you is there by 1400. You won't get much warning, and you won't have much time. Tell Joker to stand by."
All three of them got to their feet. Anderson signaled to the waitress.
"Sir," Shepard said, hesitating. "Thank you."
Anderson nodded brusquely in response, then departed swiftly. Shepard watched him go, mentally trying to calculate how many times Anderson had stood up for him in the past, and how many more times he might do it in the future.
If they threw Anderson in a cell, one thing was for sure. Shepard wasn't going to let him sit there.
"Ready to steal a ship?" Shepard asked under his breath. He got to his feet, dreading for half a beat that Garrus would not do the same. But the turian did, without pause, and followed him towards the casino's entrance, though the weight of his stare at Shepard's back nearly made him flinch.
"If you want off here, Garrus, I understand. I'm not forcing you to take part in this."
"I'm not looking for a way out."
"What, then?"
"Sir…what about Tali?"
Shepard halted mid-stride. Amid the chorus of uneven sound coursing through the casino both he and Garrus stood still and silent. After a long, interminable pause Shepard finally turned his head just enough so Garrus could hear him. "If we spring her from the medbay we could be doing irreparable harm."
"So you're leaving her behind."
Now Shepard did flinch, subtle and slight but not enough that Garrus would miss it. "I've already condemned one of my crewmates to die. I'm not doing it again when I have a choice."
Garrus digested this for a moment as Shepard resumed walking. "Understood, sir."
"Round everyone up. Quietly. Get them back to the ship. I'll handle the rest."
Joker swung his way through the CIC, taking note of the crew hovering around the galaxy map. Pressly. Felawa. Gladstone. Draven. No one was missing, that he could see. All busied about the holographic image of the Normandy – projected in place of the familiar swirl of the Milky Way while the controls remained locked out - with furrowed brows, thin lips and darting eyes, all wearing the same expression of resolute disbelief.
They were stealing the Normandy. Mutiny. And as far as he could tell, no one had refused to go along with it. Everyone had been filing back on board as inconspicuously as possible for the last hour. Adams. Dr. Chakwas. Grenado. As Joker made his way to the CIC hallway he passed Dubyansky and Pakti fresh from the airlock. Both nodded smartly and offered a salute. A salute, of all goddamn things.
None of them had turned Shepard down. Not a single one. The Normandy was going to be on the run with all hands on deck. They were all risking not only their careers, but the likely possibility of spending quite a few years inside a cell for doing this. But it didn't deter even Greico, a mess sergeant for chrissakes. Because they believed in the mission. They believed in Shepard. A lone ship to chase down a madman with a geth army, and they were going to have to break every reg in the Alliance handbook just to give themselves those odds.
The Council was fucking insane. A cell would be worth it if it at least meant they'd tried.
He reached the pilot's chair and settled himself into it with a grimace, stowing the crutches and then staring at his interface, still offline and unresponsive. A quick check of his chronometer told him that they had about twenty minutes before Anderson's supposed date with destiny, when perhaps the fate of them all rested on whether or not their former captain could rescind the lockdown before getting shot.
Even Shepard's superior officers were willing to take a hit for him. Shit.
Another figure slid into the chair next to him. Addison Chase. She didn't look at him at first, just ran her fingers over the darkened interface out of habit, chewing her lip and tapping her foot against the deckplates.
"Chase," Joker said finally. She glanced swiftly over at him, blonde hair bobbing along for the ride, and offered a nervous smile. Joker nodded at her. "Glad to see you."
She exhaled a shaky breath. "It's the right thing to do," she replied.
"Still takes guts."
"What…what do you need me to do?"
Joker skimmed his list of pre-flight checks, mentally crossing off the ones they could skip. If they were stealing the ship, piling on a few extra docking bay infractions sure as shit wouldn't make much of a difference.
"As soon as we get the green light we have to act fast," he replied. "We skip anything that isn't absolutely essential. We're going to be doing a lot of things at once. No coms traffic. Let Adams worry about the drive core and the heat sinks. As soon as we get control back Pressly will take care of our heading. No time to communicate with each other. Trust that everyone's going to do their jobs."
She nodded wordlessly.
"We're also not going to have time to run any safety checks once the core comes back online. We just have to hope no one futzed with anything while we've been powered down."
Another nod.
"Get the thrusters going as soon as you can, whatever it takes. You know how to adjust acceleration burn for the nebula, don't you?"
"Yes," she said, voice faltering ever so slightly.
"Good. While I get us clear of the Citadel you need to make those calculations and make them fast. As soon as we're clear of the Ward arms we're making a run for the relay. I need you to keep up. Can you do that?"
"Yes," she said, more confident this time.
"We got this, Chase. Just have to work together."
Joker heard the clatter of boots on the deckplates. Thought it was Shepard, turned around instead to find Alenko. Joker tried to conceal his mild surprise. The lieutenant's usual even-tempered expression had been replaced by something iron and hard, a sharp reminder that Alenko was not just some idealistic pretty face, but a well-trained marine who wouldn't flinch regardless of what you threw at him.
"Everything ready up here?"
"Just waiting for the green light," Joker replied. He shifted a little in his chair, angling so he could get a better look at the lieutenant. "Where's Shepard?"
"On his way."
Alenko met his gaze, the corner of his eye twitching. "What, you didn't think I'd come?"
"Not that. Well, I mean, you are a little attached to the rule book. We're about to break a pretty big rule. In rather spectacular fashion."
Alenko's gaze darkened. "The mission comes first."
Shepard chose that moment to come through the airlock, striding down the hallway to stand beside Alenko. The two exchanged nods.
"We're ready up here, Commander," Joker said.
"Come on, Anderson," Alenko murmured under his breath.
Joker checked his chronometer again. Three minutes.
The four of them stared at the flight console. Joker rubbed his fingers idly together, shooting the occasional glance at Shepard, whose expression remained resolute.
Jesus, Shepard. I really hope you know what you're doing.
A light flashed on his interface.
Wait for it…
The entire console lit up. Drive core. Navigations. Propulsions. The ship was his again.
"Get us out of here, Joker," Shepard ordered.
"Aye aye, Commander."
His fingers flashed over the console as the docking clamps disengaged. Bless you, Anderson. I'd kiss you on the mouth if I could.
"Maneuvering thrusters set," Chase announced, voice terse.
Joker backed the ship out of the docking bay. Without an authorized departure vector he'd have to dodge traffic. It wouldn't take control long to notice they had a rouge departure. Adams, hope you've got that drive core up and singing.
"Joker?" Shepard asked.
"We're about to find out just how fast I can calculate a relay jump on the fly, Commander."
The Ward arms glided past them outside the shutters. Joker adjusted course to avoid two incoming volus freighters. The moment they were clear he initiated the acceleration burn, praying Adams had had enough time to run the numbers.
The ship surged. Joker let out a whoop. "That's my girl! We're off and running, Commander, see if those assholes can catch us now!"
Shepard grinned. "Pressly, have you got a course laid out for Ilos?"
"Working as fast as I can, sir. I'll have it by the time we reach the relay."
Shepard put a hand on Joker's shoulder. "Saren's out there somewhere. Let's get that sonofabitch."
