Beta-read by Saberlin.
-J-
Omega was one nasty place.
That was one of the understatements of the century, right behind 'we're in a bit of a bind', and Krul's 'that'll put hair on your ass'.
Fortunately, turians didn't have hair…though Garrus strongly suspected, after the one time Krul went into the kitchen with culinary intent, the humans were checking every few hours to make sure they didn't turn into…what was it? The Wolfman.
He personally suspected it was Krul's way of telling people not to bother him with that crap and let him alone.
Not the nicest, most personable guy, but he knew his demolitions.
Of course, he was of the school of 'if they touch the thing, or tamper with it, I blow their asses to dust'. He had not approved of the 'no civilian casualties' approach, but Krul was a batarian, and he did represent something of the usual stereotypes about batarians.
If he had not run into Krul early on, he would have never taken one of Tarak's throwbacks in. Whatever the circumstances, Krul was dropped almost in his lap. He never asked why Krul had such a burning desire to kill Tarak and every Blue Sun he could get his bombs near, but it worked.
Questions about why his men had opted to join up with him tended not to come up. It was enough that they were there.
Garrus heaved a crate of the latest payload off the truck, following the massive shape of Krul, stalking along ahead with two crates, one under either arm.
"The guy's a complete tank. And I thought I worked out," Butler hissed to Garrus.
"How's Nalah?" Butler was one of the few with family. Nalah—a very pregnant Nalah—had been smuggled to a safehouse months ago. The team did not take chances where family was concerned.
Butler had not seen his wife face-to-face for several weeks—security reasons—but he smiled. "She's good…my son is good."
From what Garrus understood, 'son' was wishful thinking. "Good."
"Garrus?" Sidonis came trotting up, his face twitching nervously.
Sidonis was always nervous, but as far as scouts and observers went, he was good. Barefaced, but good. Being barefaced didn't mean much on Omega, and Garrus was glad to have help where he could get it.
"What?" Garrus did not stop walking. The crate was heavy.
"I need to talk to you for a minute…it's important."
Garrus nodded, deposited the crate in the parking garage and followed Sidonis to a quiet corner. "What is it?" Crossing his arms, he studied the shorter turian.
"I've got a lead on something…could be big."
"Big how?" Garrus ran his tongue thoughtfully along the inside of his teeth. "Big where?"
"Look, you asked me to keep an ear to the ground, that's what I did. You know we're screwing up business for…well, everybody?" Garrus nodded. "Well, someone might be screwing up business for Aria…and we don't want her thinking it's us. You know how she is."
Again, Garrus nodded. He was not afraid of Aria T'Loak. She was too good a businesswoman to pick a fight with someone who stayed off her intel nets. Besides, he was good for business, kept the major merc players from causing trouble by thinning their numbers. Seizing their resources meant she had that much more capital at her disposal.
The best way to negotiate is to show someone how getting what you want gets them what they want. The comment had not been directed at him, but it worked.
So did Williams' opinion: You can get more with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone. Not that he did much face-to-face dealing.
"Rumors say there's a deal going down, on the other side of town. That big thug of hers, Moklan? She's gone over. She's supposed to meet with Tarak. One on one, guards stay outside. I've scoped the place: if this happens…you missed him once. You're not the type to miss twice."
Garrus looked away from Sidonis, drumming his talons on his arm as he took in and let out a deep breath. "When?"
"Twenty-one hundred."
"I'll have the crew ready at…"
"No," Sidonis interrupted. "I scoped it: it's a big, open space, except near the ceiling: there's a network of catwalks. One or two might be able to sneak around up there, but too much noise and everything goes to hell. It's getting in that's tricky, too: they know you're out here somewhere."
Garrus nodded, still thinking. "You're sure about all this?"
"Absolutely. When was the last time I brought you a bad lead?" This time, Sidonis sounded offended.
It was true: Sidonis' leads were always good. "Okay. We'll head out as soon as it's dark, be in position before the deal goes down. With any luck there'll be one less smart gang leader on this rock…"
"Then the Suns fall to on each other, trying to fill the power gap. They'll topple like domin-whoas."
"Dominos, Lantar, dominos."
"Whatever. Humanisms don't make sense anyway." Sidonis rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"Humanisms make perfect sense," Garrus responded, then grinned wickedly, "to humans, anyway. Come on," he clapped Sidonis on the shoulder, "let's get the rest of this stuff unloaded, then we'll talk tactics." Garrus returned to the task at hand, his mind turning over and over. Tarak got away once. That was luck.
But the merc was only batarian: he couldn't be lucky all the time.
It would only take Garrus being lucky once. He might have wondered what to do if he managed to kill Tarak: but there were two other major merc gangs…and Tarak's lieutenant, Jenthra. All the second-in-commands would have to go, just to make sure no formal leadership remained. Fortunately, since the infighting that would follow was inevitable, there was time to plan.
Garrus smiled to himself, but did not let optimism get in the way of good judgment. Don't count your chickens before they hatch. And that humanism made perfect sense.
