Tales from the Citadel

Chapter 11: Shepard versus the Hot Sauce

Well, it was official. Dalatrass Siravai had been poisoned.

Here's a quick summary in case you were too busy following the latest celebrity gossip (Aishwarya Ashland cheating on her boyfriend with a batarian!) or the hottest conspiracy theory (hanar funding a human smuggling ring so they could eat our brains!): Dalatrass Siravai had finished some trade talks on Earth. Her ship hadn't even cleared the Sol system when it turned around and hauled ass for the Citadel. Siravai was rushed to Huerta Memorial while several members of her staff sought asylum because their dalatrass had been poisoned.

The following days, those claims were supported via an official statement. Siravai had been poisoned. Specifically with a nerve agent. Dalatrass Linron—a.k.a. Dalatrass Crankypants—disputed those findings. No surprise, considering she and Linron hadn't seen eye to eye.

Additional samples were taken and sent to an independent lab. The results: Siravai's blood had significant quantities of a classified nerve agent… one that was created on the salarian homeworld of Sur'Kesh. The only known samples of that nerve agent were supposedly under lock and key on a secret STG facility dedicated to storing biological and chemical agents. Needless to say, the revelation that a salarian leader was poisoned with a salarian nerve agent caused quite a stir.

Crankypants continued to double down on denying that any poisoning could have happened. She did, however, point fingers at humanity for the 'inadequate health and safety precautions' that clearly led to the current plight of 'one of Sur'Kesh's most respected leaders.' A rather blatant attempt to redirect the blame, you'd think, but there were plenty of people willing to lap it up.

Acting Alliance Prime Minister Thibault (yes, that's a mouthful) didn't respond directly to Crankypants, other than release an official statement expressing sympathy for Dalatrass Siravai and the Alliance's best wishes for a speedy recovery. That's all he could do, considering he had enough scandals of his own to deal with.

The first was one that just would not go away. I'm talking of course about his awarding a lucrative contract to the Unity Group, despite a clear conflict of interest stemming from the various associations between his family and the charity. The latest dirt uncovered by Emily Wong showed that the Unity Group had been aggressively lobbying the Alliance for years, ever since Thibault's party rose to power… despite the fact that they had not actually registered as a lobbyist. Per the Lobbying Act, any organization that intended to influence Alliance legislation, regulation or other government decisions, actions or policies had to sign on with the Registry of Lobbyists. They could do so at any time before meeting with Alliance officials or up to a month after said meeting. But they had to register. That was the law. And yet, the Unity Group had not registered.

Unity Group founder Marcella Craigson claimed it was all a misunderstanding, that any 'chance encounters' with Alliance officials were with well-meaning volunteers who were not speaking for the Unity Group in an official capacity. A flimsy argument, even before Emily's follow-up article revealed that most of those 'chance encounters' were scheduled appointments between Craigson herself and senior Alliance politicians… including Thibault. Furthermore, after Emily publicized how the Unity Group had been lobbying for several years without registering as a lobbyist… the Unity Group conveniently (and quietly) registered as a lobbyist. Which begged the question: did the Unity Group really not know they were doing something illegal? Or did they simply think they could get away with it because they were cozy with the Alliance's political leaders? And was Thibault's contract really about helping the galaxy or really about helping his friends?

But wait, there's more, courtesy of Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Maybe she decided to aspire for something more than yellow journalism. Whatever the reason, she found something that was quite juicy.

It seemed that the Canadian police had raided a mansion belonging to one Sana T'Dahn. Officially, T'Dahn was a successful shipping magnate and had used her profits to buy and renovate a rather lavish property in Quebec. Unofficially, her mansion housed a secret, well-armed and illegal casino. The police seized 3.5 million credits worth of liquor and wine, twenty military-grade weapons—most of which were illegal in Citadel space—ten million credits in gambling chips and various gambling equipment. They also discovered several bedrooms that were clearly built for the use of the casino's clients… and anyone they hired for 'entertainment'. According to the police statement, the money flowing through the casino was being used to fund criminal ventures ranging from prostitution to drug trafficking.

Here's the kicker: T'Dahn had met Thibault several times at various fundraisers held after the Reaper War. She also acted as the lead negotiator for an asari delegation representing several companies on Thessia, and had personally made a donation to Thibault's last re-election campaign. All of which smacked of a classic cash-for-access scheme that gave a rich donor—and a dirty one, to boot—face time with Thibault.

And people wondered why politicians were held in such contempt.

The only upside was an e-mail from Liara. After James and I met, I asked her to try and find his relatives. Long story short: between her contacts and EDI's processing power, she managed to find his dad (the drug user), his uncle (the guy who succeeded in steering James down a better path) and his abuela (who everyone had mistakenly thought was dead; when it turned out she was lying in a coma as a Jane Doe). I hastily gave approval for Steve to borrow one of the Normandy's shuttles and fly James down so he could have a quick visit with his family before N1 training started. At least there was one bit of good news today.

The gentle chime reminded me that there were two things to be grateful for: Miranda and I had a date tonight (Ellie would be so proud). We were going to some hanar restaurant on the Presidium for dinner. Yeah, it sounded weird. But I never had hanar cuisine before. I was up for trying new things. And the way things were going, it was the closest I would get to sushi.

What could possibly go wrong?

"I hate pyjaks."

"I know."

"They get into everything, they poop everywhere…"

"I know."

"And the smell!"

"I know."

On some level, I knew Miranda was humouring me. And I didn't want to wear out her patience and understanding when she was undoubtedly disappointed as well. But this dinner date was going down in flames and I had to vent.

Perhaps I should explain.

Miranda and I had arranged to meet outside the hanar restaurant. As luck would have it, she got there first. When I arrived, there was a rapidly dwindling crowd outside. "Um… Miranda? What's going on?"

"The restaurant has been shut down. There's been a pyjak infestation."

"Pyjaks? Because rats are so passé?"

"I can't speak to the popularity of rats, but the manager was quite clear that they had a pyjak problem. They shredded the furniture in the dining room, tore through the pantry like a tornado and flung raw food and... feces… throughout the pantry and kitchen."

I stared at Miranda in dismay. "Is there any chance you were making that up?"

She shook her head. "I can't speak to the state of the pantry or kitchen, but the dining room does look like a war zone."

Considering Miranda's general tendency to speak literally and the fact that we had just survived a war—and thus she could speak from personal experience rather than hyperbole—I was inclined to believe her. Especially after I peered through the window and saw the dining room for myself. Miranda wasn't kidding. "Okay," I sighed. "Um… let's see…"

I got onto the extranet and started searching for nearby restaurants. "There's an asari restaurant two blocks down. Seems to have good reviews."

"Oh, I know that one," Miranda said. "They're renowned for bringing back molecular gastronomy and taking it to new heights. Every dish is a work of art."

Which meant each dish was obscenely expensive and could fit in the palm of your hand. Still, I hadn't had any food made using molecular gastronomy, asari or otherwise. "Sure," I shrugged. "Why not?"

It wound up being a 'why not,' based on the line. It stretched down a block and a half, which wasn't a good sign. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to hear anyone who hadn't booked a reservation in advance would probably have to wait two hours before sitting down, but still. Two hours. Really?

"Well, that's out," I said, scratching my head. "Chinese? There's one… just around the corner."

"Okay."

Once we waded through the crowd of people determined to eat asari art, we found out the Chinese restaurant was another nope. The entire restaurant was booked for a wedding reception. Bride. Groom. Family. Extended family. Friends. Do the math.

"I swear I have better luck when people are shooting at me," I muttered.

"Don't tell me you're missing the battlefield," an unexpected voice said. "You can't be that stir-crazy."

"Kaidan?" I turned around in surprise. "What are you doing here?" Then I looked at the bags of food he was carrying. "Better question: are you trying to feed an army?"

"Close," he said. "I was supposed to meet some members of my old unit."

"Unit?" I thought about that for a second. "Wait, are you talking about the 1st Special Operations Biotic Company?"

"That's the one," he nodded. "A dozen or so people were flying over to the Citadel. We were gonna get together, cook dinner, share stories. Unfortunately, they got recalled to the front lines so they had to bail. So here I am, with enough food to feed a platoon. What about you guys? What brings the two of you here?"

My stomach gave a non-verbal reply.

"We had dinner reservations, but the restaurant was unexpectedly shut down due to a pyjak infestation," Miranda explained for me. "We've started looking for alternative venues. So far, we've struck out."

"That sucks," Kaidan said sympathetically.

"Tell me about it," I growled.

Kaidan was about to say something, then stopped. He paused. Gave the two of us a speculative look. "This is gonna sound weird," he began.

"Never stopped you before," I pointed out. "Got something in mind?"

"Let's walk that way," he said, tilting his head towards the direction we were going before Kaidan bumped into us. "If you find a restaurant that can sit you, great."

"And if not?" I asked.

"I've got a ton of raw food and my fridge can only hold so much," he said. "If you're willing, why don't I cook dinner for you two?"

I blinked. Blinked again.

"Oh, no," I said. "Really?"

"Come on," Kaidan laughed. "It'll be fun."

"This was not what I had in mind when I asked you out on a date," I whispered to Miranda.

"I don't think any of us seriously considered the possibility of a squadmate cooking us dinner in Anderson's apartment," she whispered back.

"Stop hovering by the door and come over here," Kaidan hollered to us. "I do my best cooking with some company."

As you may have guessed, Miranda and I struck out. Every place we stopped by was full up. The host or hostess invariably told us—either apologetically or condescendingly—that we should have made a reservation and that we would likely have to wait an hour. Even then, it wasn't guaranteed. Since we could get back to Anderson's apartment and start cooking in half that time… we gave in to the inevitable and took Kaidan up on his offer.

"You want us to sit there and watch you cook?" I asked, joining him in the kitchen.

"You're not watching me cook," Kaidan chuckled. "You're helping me drink beer. Now sit your ass down."

Miranda and I sat down while Kaidan started pulling items out of his bags. "What are we having?" she asked. "A Canadian delicacy of some sort?"

Kaidan gave her an odd look. Understandable: just because he hailed from Canada didn't mean he was going to make something Canadian. Besides, I'm not sure what counts as 'Canadian' cuisine. West Coast, maybe. Canadian, not so much.

"Uh… sure," he finally said. "Exactly. "We have beef, we have bacon, we have beer. The foods of my people." He said that last part with mock seriousness.

Well, there wasn't any bacon, but considering I was looking at a couple steaks, I think could let that go. As I watched, Kaidan put some garlic on the counter, followed by thyme, bell peppers and potatoes on the counter. The last thing he grabbed was a couple bottles of beer. He tossed me a bottle, handed another to Miranda and kept one for myself. We silently popped the caps off and clinked the bottles together. "Wish me luck," Kaidan said.

"If you need luck to cook us dinner, we're screwed," I said after taking a swig.

"Screwed?" Kaidan exclaimed. "You hurt me, Shepard."

He quickly washed the veggies and began chopping them up. "Relax," he said. "It's gonna be great."

"I'm sure it will," Miranda said politely.

We let Kaidan peel and dice up the peppers and potatoes before breaking the silence. Well, I broke the silence: "So, remember how we saved the Citadel? And then—you weren't there, Kaidan—we survived a suicide mission? And then there was that goddamn Reaper War? All those close calls I've had, only to be taken out by dinner."

Kaidan gave me a mock glare.

"Can it at least be quick and painless?" I pleaded.

"Funny," he said, rolling his eyes. "You think I hauled your butt out of the fire all those times just to poison you here, now? I mean, Miranda's sitting right here. I try to pull any funny business; she'll blast me out the window."

"I will," Miranda confirmed with a straight face.

"I just took down my clone," I reminded him. "I gotta figure anything's possible." To Miranda, I added "Thanks for having my back."

"Always," Miranda nodded.

"All right," I said. "This bottle's empty."

"Why don't I get you another?" Kaidan offered, as he started grinding salt and pepper onto the steaks.

"Nah," I said. "Gotta keep my hands busy. You keep butchering the meat, Kaidan. I'm making dessert."

"Got a sweet tooth to go with that smart mouth, Shepard?"

Maybe I didn't want him to show me up in front of my girlfriend. Petty, I know. "Just trying to salvage the evening by ending things on a high note," I said instead.

By this point, I'd figured out where Anderson kept his kitchenware and how the fridge was organized. I found what I needed and got to work.

Meanwhile, the pan Kaidan put on the stove was hot enough. He added some oil, swirled it around, then tossed in several cloves of garlic. "You like to cook, Shepard?" he asked as the garlic sizzled. "Or bake?"

"Both, I guess," I said, pausing to make sure I wasn't mixing up the baking powder and baking soda—God knows I've done that too many times. "My sister taught me. Our parents worked a lot of odd shifts, so they weren't always around to make lunch or dinner. Ellie started teaching me during our first—no, second—rotation on Arcturus. Said eating cafeteria food 24/7 wasn't healthy. Can't say I'm a pro, but I get by."

"Is there anything you can't do?" Kaidan smiled.

Miranda might have said something that sounded like 'Drive'. I ignored her.

"Don't ask me to sing," I said with a straight face. "I can't carry a tune." Or dance, if the comment threads from that one stupid vid were any indication. "What about you, Kaidan? Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Classes at Jump Zero, believe it or not."

He learned to cook at the same place where he got his biotic training as a teenager? The same place where the authorities deliberately isolated the kids from their families and secretly hired turian mercs as teachers? "After everything you've said about that place, it is hard to believe," I said, taking out the mixer.

"Agreed," Miranda frowned. "There's a reason the Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training program was shut down. You'd know that better than anyone."

"Well, it wasn't a picnic," Kaidan admitted. "But Vyrnnus wasn't teaching everything, thank God. Humanity might not have known how to train biotics, but we did have centuries of knowledge in the culinary arts. Good thing, too: biotics burns up a ton of calories. Young biotics who can't cook for themselves risk starving."

Miranda, the only other biotic in the room, nodded ruefully.

"Did you pass?" I asked, reaching around Kaidan and turning on the oven. "'Cuz you're burning the garlic."

"Roasting," he corrected. Though he hastily moved it around on the pan before adding some herbs—thyme, I think—and butter. While he let them sizzle, I started adding the eggs with the mixer. Then the milk, then the rest of the wet ingredients.

By the time I was pouring the mix into the pans, Kaidan was cooking the steaks. More importantly, the oven was ready. I slipped the chocolate cake in to bake, then started digging out plates and cutlery. Miranda helped me set the table before making her way to the wine rack. "Any requests?" she called out.

"Red meat, red wine," I shrugged. "Beyond that…"

"Scotch pairs nicely with steak," Kaidan suggested. "If you want wine, though, Cabernet Sauvignon or a Zinfandel would be a good choice."

"Cabernet Sauvignon it is," Miranda declared, taking out a bottle.

"Perfect timing," Kaidan said. "I'm just gonna let the steaks cool while I roast the veggies. Whaddya think?"

I took a look and shuddered. "Do we have any hot sauce?"

In the end, the date Miranda and I were supposed to have wound up being a dinner with the three of us. Kaidan offered to eat on his own and give us some privacy. But it seemed rude to have him eat in the corner—or worse, kick him out—after he'd gone to the trouble to cook us dinner. So we told him to stay.

Over dinner, I talked about all the shenanigans I'd gotten up to while on shore leave. Miranda briefly summarized her role in the Alliance investigation against Cord-Hislop Aerospace. Kaidan told us that he'd finally gotten in touch with his parents—they were okay and reunited, their apartment in Vancouver was trashed, but they were trying to renovate a new home in the Okanagan. Just nice, relaxing chit-chat, the kind of thing I hadn't done in far too long.

The small talk continued while I washed the dishes and Kaidan gathered his things. Then it was time to call it a night. Once I was finished, I saw Kaidan to the door.

"That was great," he said.

"Still waiting for the botulism to kick in," I said in jest.

"Hey, I thought it was pretty good," Kaidan protested.

"Just yanking your chain," I laughed. "No, it was very good. I'm impressed."

"Thank you," he said, mollified. "I'm an enigma. I've got skills."

"Uh huh."

"For example: fistfight, me and James. I'd win, right?"

"In your dreams, maybe."

"What if I fought dirty?"

"Good night, Kaidan," I laughed.

"Night, Shepard. Night, Miranda."

And then it was the two of us. "So… what now? Wanna go out? See what trouble we could get up to?"

Miranda shook her head. "Considering we'd probably come back here anyway, why don't we skip straight to the end?" Her gaze drifted upstairs… towards the bedroom.

"I like the way you think," I approved.

"I thought you might."

"Just two things first."

I took out the bottle of Serrice Ice brandy I'd been hiding for just this occasion, opened it up and poured a little—just a finger's worth. I wanted us to get comfortable, not plastered. Granted it wasn't much of a risk considering our genetics, but still.—into a pair of glasses. "To us," I toasted.

"To us."

We each took our time finishing it, savouring the taste. The moment. At last, we were finished.

"And the second?" Miranda asked.

I activated my omni-tool and accessed my playlist. The song was already cued up and ready to go. All I had to do was hit the button.

Miranda slowly smiled as Nina Simone began singing her classic rendition of 'Feeling Good.' "Perfect," she declared.