April 12th 2184 CE 05:02
"Citing their catastrophic losses during the Battle of The Citadel, the human military requested reinforcements in their defense against batarian slavers in The Verge. The slavers have grown bolder in recent months, taking advantage of the weakened human military. The Asari Republic, Turian Hierarchy, and Salarian Union deeply regretted not being capable of becoming involved in a purely human matter."
Garrus snatched the old, S-5 radio and smashed it against the wall. Bits of shattered plastic rained down over his nightstand. What a perfect start to my morning. The artificial lights aren't even on yet and my own people are betraying humanity.
Even with their forces depleted, The Alliance was putting up one hell of a fight against the batarians. But that was little comfort to Garrus. Turian civilization was about to fall, the reapers were on the horizon. Who knew how much time was left? All they could hope for now was to leave behind a legacy worthy of respect. And today he found himself ashamed of his own kind. "I hope the reapers take you Sparatus." Garrus growled into the darkness. "You're the only thing Shepard was ever wrong about."
He leaned back and allowed himself to slip into memories of his old commander and their frantic run to the Citadel tower. Of Sovereign's immense legs wrapped around the council chambers, looming over them. Their doom. Their fate should they fail. That day, he gained perspective into why the geth revered the reapers as gods. Sovereign was immense, awe-inspiring and terrifying to the very core.
They hauled ass through maintenance and elevator shafts, blowing away Saren's minions blocking their path. It was chaos. At one point they were surrounded, the defense grid was proving deadly. Rockets shot from turrets the geth had set up, keeping them pinned with ground troops inching closer and closer. But there was Shepard, a man made of steel and fire bellowing into the gunfire, making them believe. "Just keep shooting. We're gonna blow that monster straight to hell. Just keep shooting." If there was one thing he learned serving on a human ship it was to never lose hope. When things looked grim, when victory seemed impossible, their indomitable determination kept them and everyone around them fighting.
Shepard's people deserved better than this. Shepard deserved better than this. So, what are you going to do about it?
Garrus spun up his omni-tool and immediately checked his inbox. Not one team member from The Normandy had responded so far. And this morning was proving no different. At least there was still time for a decent breakfast before his men would be up for routine drills. He walked to the kitchen, poured himself a bowl of BlastOhs and snagged a protein bar. To his surprise, Krul was already awake munching on what Butler called a banana.
"Morning." Garrus nodded towards the batarian. A grunt was his only response. "I see you're as cheerful as ever."
"It's the ass crack of dawn Castor. My sunny disposition doesn't come in until a saner hour." Krul growled.
Garrus simply chuckled. "Who's to say I don't enjoy you just the way you are?"
All four batarian eyes rolled in annoyance.
"In all seriousness though. I have something to ask you."
"Shoot."
"I'd like to pick your brain a bit regarding how to go about hacking batarian slave records."
"Pretty simple. They rarely use more than one layer of encryption."
"But how do I get my talons on it?"
Krul blinked. "This about that mystery person you're looking for?"
"Yeah. Actually."
"And? What? Don't trust me?"
"It's not that Krul. This is just… not my secret to tell. But I suppose you deserve the truth. Hell, I doubt you could help without it."
Garrus paused, trying to articulate the words. "She's the kid sister of an old friend of mine. He died in a geth attack while searching for her."
"I'll need a lot more than that."
"I have it. We tracked her to The Rotund but they sold her off in the past couple years. That's where the trail goes cold. But I have her slave ID 1182. So tell me, what can you do with that?"
"Knew some of the bastards on The Rotund. Kill 'em?"
"Every last one."
"Good." The batarian hissed and clenched his fists.
"Focus Krul."
"Yeah. Yeah I'm thinking." Grundan rolled his shoulders and leaned back in the chair. "What species? If she's turian you're probably fucked. They're rarely aboard star ships. They sell those off fast to mining asteroids. You'll never get close."
"Human actually."
"Hmm. If you could get a long range transmitter on board, I should be able to hack their communications."
"I have no idea which ship she's on now."
"Obviously. Let me explain. The Rotund would regularly sell cast offs to small scouting vessels, the human ones anyway. They like to poke around Alliance Space under the radar, testing colony defenses."
"And?"
"They all use the same frequency. Hack one vessel and you'll hack them all. Then, I write a program - a listening device that'll ping us if there are any mentions of an 1182."
Garrus stared hard and long at the man in front of him. "If you pull this off Krul, I'll owe you a lot."
"You realize she's going to be in real bad shape? This whole thing is probably futile. At best, she's chipped. At worst, she's dead. They go through 'em fast on those vessels."
"I know. But honestly, this is less about saving the girl and more about honoring my friend. I have to try."
"Whatever you say. When are we going after that Thralog bastard?"
"I remember our deal, but if it's alright with you I'd like to get this plan moving first. Once we start hitting high profile targets, the less capable we'll be of slipping under the radar. Besides, how many slaver ships do business with him? I'm guessing quite a few."
Krul groaned. "I see your point. Alright Castor, I'm trusting you on this."
"I won't forget this. You have my word. Thralog will get what's coming to him."