Ripples in the Stream
A D&D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel
Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.
It took her nearly ten minutes to give C-Sec the credit they were due, they hadn't been stupid enough to leave an inmate with an easy way out. Smart. She suppressed a slight smirk, perched on her 'bunk' in the C-Sec cell-cube. Her tail had been curled about her legs, but now she unfurled it and shifted positions, rolling over to lay on her side and letting her tail-tip dangle off the end of the bed to twitch against the floor with her amusement.
They hadn't left open the door for her, so she was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. A gleam of light glanced off a fang as she contemplated her route. She knew the way back to that interesting asari's console, but hopefully they'd have something a bit closer and out of view for her to use...
Joru frowned slightly to herself, eyes closed as she fiddled with her chains. It was just for show, her real attention was inward, sorting through the dream-memories and seeing what information she could glean from them. Jordan Shepard may not have been the most observant person in the galaxy, but she was damned perceptive when it came to combat, and that was what she needed for the moment. Sorting through all those thirteen years of memories would take time, but she had plenty of it for now.
First things first, though. She shifted again, standing and letting her tail coil into a seatrest as she balanced upon that appendage as she lifted her legs into a lotus position. It was uncomfortable, but that was part of the point. Meditation had never been her strong suit, but with little to do for the time being, and a lot to think about, it was better than being bored.
The slot in the wall chimed, an amber light blinked twice, and the slot opened, extruding a small tongue of metal on which sat a prison-standard plate with her ration. Joru's nostrils flared ever so slightly, unconsciously analyzing the aroma of the meat-like substance and rejecting it as food while her mind was otherwise occupied. Later, she'd realize that the tray had been presented for 25 citadel minutes before being withdrawn again, uneaten. No matter, her Sustenance kept her hunger at bay.
She had better things to think about, as her lips creased in a faint, knowing smile.
Shen Lao was bored, but that was par for the course on the graveyard shift. As a monitoring technical officer, his job was to sit and watch the various vidfeeds from the various cells under his surveillance to be sure the inmates were behaving themselves. However, there weren't that many inmates in his little slice of C-Sec Super-Max tonight; just a krogan, as the normal cells aren't up to holding them, that odd-looking humanoid with the tail, and the raging, psychotic human that had been caught playing with the bones of his dismembered victims. Lao still got cold shivers when he thought about that case. He sipped his coffee and paged through the vidfeeds. Coffee was something his turian partner could never get used to, as the scent was disagreeable to his species. Just another shift in one of the quieter sections of C-Sec.
'Huh, that's weird.' He paused the scroll. Each cell had eight cameras, positioned and angled to give 100% coverage of their cells, covering the entirety of the enclosed space from their locations in each of the corners of the rooms. The woman had been balancing on her tail for the past few hours, ever since Lao had come on shift. However, now Cell #1138 was only showingblank blackness for all eight feeds. The time-stamp was still working properly, Lao checked, but the cameras were only registering blackness. Had the inmate somehow coated them with some sort of paint? He checked rapidly. Yes, that was the new one, the.. Darastrix? Odd, he hadn't heard of that species before.
Still, there was something wrong here. He shifted and called over his shoulder, "Tetus, what do you make of this?"
The turian stepped over, sipping his own version of the universal caffeinated beverage his species preferred, taking a look at the feeds, "Blank? Huh. Probably instrumentation failure."
"That's what I thought too, but look," Lao pointed out the timestamps, "if it was instrumentation, the timestamps would be gone too, they're generated at the camera level."
Tetus' eyes narrowed slightly, "Then we might have an incident. I'll send a pair down to check"
"Better make it fast. Something about this rubs me wrong..."
She was a new cop, only got out of C-Sec Academy a month ago. As a rookie, Alicia Hernandez had to take whatever assignments were available, so she got stuck on prison guard duty until something in her own specialty could be found. Paired with an older turian guard, she walked briskly down the corridor, eyes gleaming a bit as she automatically checked the cameras in the corridor.
Zekis paused before the door in question, frowning with mandibles pulled tight to his face, gesturing at the window. Alicia glanced at the utterly black, blank window and frowned. "What the hell?"
"I haven't seen anything like that before." The admission made Alicia reach for her gun. The unknown was never good in this job. Zekis motioned her back, but she was already out of easy lunging range of the door when he popped the lock and let it open.
A deep, impenetrable darkness flooded out of the doorway, making Zekis vanish for a moment before he stumbled out of the zone of lightlessness, cursing a blue streak, "Control, there's something fucked up here-" He broke off as the darkness seemed to melt away at his words. The oddly-static edge of the lightless zone shifted and faded as light returned to the cell, as if with its last gasp it had tried to reach for the turian guard. Alicia shivered at that mental image, 'Get a hold of yourself, girl.'
Zekis threw her a hand signal, and Alicia tightened her grip on her gun. "It seems to be going now," he reported over his comms, "I'm going to take a look inside." The older turian gave the human a nod and rolled around the edge of the door.
After a few seconds, Zekis' low, venomous "Shit" could be clearly heard.
Joru gave a soft smirk, resisting the impulse to brush against the cops as she silently slid past them. It was quite nice of them to open the door for her, but now she had to move quickly. She slid rapidly down the corridor, took the first left, then paused at the security checkpoint. There was a different guard inside than last time. This one was a slender, feminine turian, instead of the male human. No matter.
She concentrated, focusing inward, feeling for the wellspring that was her legacy. Time and space bent around her, and she stepped quietly through the shadows between all things and emerged once more on the far side of the checkpoint. She suppressed a smirk, turning slowly and consulting her mind's-eye map as her awareness adjusted to her new position. Two more turns and she'd get to the front desk.
Invisible on silent wings, the dragoness flitted forward, not a sound to mark her passage.
Faint sounds could be heard coming from the data-station closest to Personal Effects, where an asari matron was manning the station and staring rather intently at the holo-display. Her bright, yellow eyes were glued to the latest hit from the Elcor soap-opera industry. So focused was the matron on the surprisingly long, emotional episode that she completely missed the blinking light on the corner of her display. That light had been blinking steadily for the past few minutes when something totally unexpected tore her from her absorption in the soap-opera.
A hand gripped her left wrist, dragging it away from the console, as another, monstrously strong, grasped her by the chin, and held her head back against the firmly muscled shoulder as she and her chair were savagely dragged out of arm's reach of the desk. She couldn't see anyone, her perspective was wrong, but surely she couldn't have missed it when someone reached for her wrist? The bewildering chaos of her thoughts was skewered by a low, firm voice in her ear. "Do exactly what I say, nothing more, and you'll get out of this in one piece."
'What a bitch of a day.' Executor Pallin rubbed the base of his crest, where his usual headache seemed to be thudding even more than usual. At least the day would be over soon, and he'd managed to get rid of that walking pain-in-the-ass Udina a few hours ago. Just a few more reports to review, then he could - his console gave the soft beep of an incoming call, high priority, at the same time that a panel along the top edge turned from the usual silver to a dull red that screamed danger to turian eyes.
'Damnit.' He keyed the comm open, "What happened?"
"Prisoner escape, Super-Max. Cell 1138, the, um, Darastrix."
'...Fuck, that was Udina's pet.' "When?"
"We aren't sure, sir, but we got confirmation that she's out and loose just a minute ago. Terrified a clerk in Inventory, was trying to find out where her stuff was in the warehouse."
Pallin hadn't made it to his position without learning how to make a decision fast and on incomplete data. "Lock down Inventory and all adjoining sections, and seal the building just in case. Send three squads to Inventory and another group to each other section. How'd she get out?"
"Unknown sir, we're still working on that."
"Let me know when you find out, or find her."
"You hear that?" Victus murmured softly to Caestron. The inventory warehouse was compact, but still extensive, an efficient means of holding prisoner effects and various other items. "Sounds like it came from over there." The smaller turian nodded towards the next row. Massive rotary shelves gave ground-level access to the towering structures' contents, the distinctive low rumble of one in motion sounding from the next aisle over.
Caestron nodded, his fingers splayed in the standard Turian sign for caution. He grabbed his assault rifle from its mag-clamp, the weapon softly whirring as it unfolded. With careful, near-silent steps, he slipped forward, stopping to give the next row a quick, covert glance and let his partner catch up.
Victus had his weapon out from the moment they slid into the warehouse, slipping silently up behind Caestron and waiting for the go-ahead. The big rotary shelving unit had ceased turning, and there was a personal effects crate out on the floor about halfway down the aisle.
Soft shuffling sounds came from where a rather familiar shape was busily extracting things and buckling them on. She had already stripped out of her prisoner tunic, which lay discarded on the floor, and now wore what looked like a very tight-fitted top, cropped to just about the edge of her rib-cage, and molded tight to her chest. A pair of very tight-fitted leather leggings of the same sort of hide clung to her lower half, a cutout section allowing her tail to emerge without binding it too tight. A belt of some lighter leather hung low on her waist. Some sort of steel clasp had been attached at the point where her tail thickened, just before the point, small spikes jutting at angles to compliment her tail's own natural weapondryl, and she wore some sort of jeweled armband about her right wrist.
"Come on, where are you... ahh..." The figure leaned back, examining something that looked like a ring made of some highly polished dark metal before sliding it on her finger with a soft sigh. The posture revealed some sort of choker about her neck, studded with a double-row of small metal rivets in some dark leather.
Caestron paused, glancing somewhat incredulously at the figure. He looked back at his partner, and mouthed 'Spunk girl' at him, to which Victus blinked back at him, mandibles flaring a bit in surprise.
The taller turian pointed towards the next row, and then to where he currently was. Not waiting for a signal of agreement or understanding - they had been partners for quite a while, after all, Caestron moved as fast and silently as he could towards the next row, weapon ready for any engagement.
The figure's tail twitched slightly, swaying slowly behind her as he rapidly dashed to the next row. She reached into the box and pulled out one further thing before rising, her long tail lashing a bit. A quiet chuckle sounded as she rose, sliding the narrow-bladed dagger against the edge of the box and drawing a long, thin gash in the side. It wasn't a weapon he recognized, it was about as long as her forearm, the short hilt and straight blade a deep, dark metal that seemed to glisten with some sort of bluish-purple lustre. "You two might as well come out, I can hear you moving around back there."
Caestron looked at Victus, knowing the other Turian's disposition, shook his head to shut him up. Another quick look from his cover position, the guard pointed slightly with his head towards Jorukaia, and, using his left hand, motioned that she had some sort of weapon.
"If you come peacefully, the law guarantees no harm will come your way. Drop your weapon, or we'll be forced to respond."
"What weapon?" She turned, a faint grin tugging up one corner of her lips as she glanced over at the pair of turians. Which was actually a good question, the weapon seemed to have vanished, her hands empty. The front of her top was laced tightly in the center baring the center of her surprisingly ample chest. The clasp on her choker, however, was embedded behind an egg-sized gem of some sort, the color of an open flame, red and orange swirls meeting in a dizzying display that drew the eye.
Victus gave a surprised, gaping stare for a moment, then gripped his assault rifle tighter. "Hands up." He shot a sidelong glance at Caestron, shifting slowly forward, keeping to the far side of the aisle from his partner. Caestron nodded in agreement, coming up a few steps behind his partner, rifle up and sights on the prisoner.
The ebon prisoner gave a soft smirk. "Oh, very well." She lifted her hands, the ring giving a dark gleam from the middle finger on her right. Her red-gold eyes flickered between the pair of them as she shifted a bit to keep them both in view. "I should warn you, though. I'm not going back to that cell."
Caestron gripped his rifle tighter at the slight shifting of the dragoness, but said nothing. There wasn't much they were required to say in situations like these, after all. Step by step, the security guard moved forward, on the lookout for any sudden movements from the prisoner.
"Really." Victus' voice was laced with scorn and sarcasm as he moved nearly opposite the woman.
Her tail twitched lazily behind her and her eyes gleamed with amused delight. "Yup." Her voice had dropped to a low, throaty contralto. "I'm going to walk out of here. And you won't stop me."
Victus sneered as he moved opposite where the prisoner was standing, Caestron a good several meters farther back. "And just how do you-" But that was when the prisoner exploded into a blur of motion.
'First order of business: Remove the weapon.' Her tail snaked out, fast as a bullwhip, and just as accurate. She spun into the motion, legs and arms whirling to build momentum, snapping her tail around once more and using the momentum to crack her tail-tip, with its thick, hardened scales, right into the smaller turian's weapon, just opposite where his thumb grasped it. The added sideways motion neatly broke his grip where it was weakest.
'Second order of business: Remove the attacker.' She planted her left foot, her bared claws grasping at the flooring, and pivoted, lancing her other leg out with stunning force, aiming where he should be, as her vision was momentarily obscured by the long fall of coal-black hair.
She felt his shield as a mild tingle, just before the ball of her foot impacted, right above his sternum, if turians were anything like humans.
Victus' eyes widened as he was first divested of his gun, then kicked with incredible force. He felt his feet lose contact with the ground, then his back impacted against the back wall of the neighboring rotary storage unit. His head snapped back, the points of his crest slamming into the steel with brain-spearing agony. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. But that didn't matter anymore, as a wave of faintness blotted out his vision.
'Third order of business: Remove his friend.' She was too far away from the other one, who was starting to react now. Her lips twitched upward in a faint smile, whirling once more as her left hand curled to grip something that wasn't there, and kicking off with her other foot. 'Now.'
It happened way too fast. One moment Victus was mouthing off as usual, the next the prisoner had somehow gotten his gun away from him and with one kick had Victus down on the ground. He wasn't out cold, just woozy from that crack to the crest, but he'd be useless for a few minutes. And the damned bitch was still moving.
He dropped into a firing crouch, bringing his AR up just as the bitch launched herself right at him! And then she was there, right in front of him! He caught a momentary glimpse of sorrow in her eyes, then the world exploded in pain.
Crests are rather sensitive, and Victus had hit his just the wrong way. He felt like someone had tried to tear his skull open, and could only bare manage to focus enough to see his attacker, damn that fucking "spunky bitch".
He pulled his gun up, aimed and his finger tightened on the trigger all in one fluid movement. It was exactly like a practice shot out on the range, his instincts were well honed.
The shot went wide, but the target was already dodging and a spray of something black splattered against the back wall of the next row of rotary shelves as his bullet tore through her left shoulder. Even so, she twisted with a lighting grace, and Caestron never saw the blade in hand, only the long glittery stream of something as it headed his way.
Caestron's chest hurt. He looked down, the hilt of spunk-bitch's blade jammed from his rent chestplate. He coughed, wondering why he wasn't dead yet.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." The bitch actually sounded sincere. He was laying across her knees, his head cradled in one of her hands. Her eyes were on his, sad and somehow kind, despite the fact of her weapon having just slid through his chest.
"Fuck.. you..." Talking hurt, everything hurt. One corner of her lips quirked up at that as she gently lowered him to the floor.
"I wish it could have ended differently. You're a good man, in your own way." She gripped the hilt of her dagger, and just like that, the bitch was gone. Caestron couldn't hold onto consciousness anymore. He had just enough time to hear the sounds of running feet as his backup arrived far too late.
{It has returned.}
[The Anomaly? It has been inactive for 10.38664 solar cycles.]
{The Anomaly has been located. Sector six, subsector 113. Installation 0001.}
[Instruct your servitor to investigate.]
{I have done so.}
Saren jerked upright on his couch, trembling very slightly. Instinctively, he reached to stroke his mechanical left arm, the feel of metal and machinery somehow subtly soothing. His eyes narrowed and he swung off the couch and to his feet in one fluid motion, tapping the key to release the door. Sovereign seemed to hesitate slightly before releasing the hatch, and in the minute pause before the door opened, imparted much to his most trusted servant.
Momentarily, he wondered why Sovereign wanted the Citadel scoured for someone or something that may have recently arrived, something unusual and out of place. But, it wasn't his place to question his master's orders. If he wanted to salvage the galaxy, he had to prove that organics were viable servants.
But sometimes, in the deepest recesses of his mind, he had his doubts.
AN: I updated both this chapter and the previous one a bit to remove a bit of confusing bits, address a couple oversights on my part, and clarify some things. I cannot thank enough my beta on this fic, Erratus Enigma, who helped me write most of Chapter 2, and whose editing improved this chapter about 500%.
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