*** Barla Von ***
The elevator to the Council Chambers had deposited the four Alliance personnel back at the Presidium; Ash, Kaidan and Rich had spotted a public transport station and headed straight for it. Shepard called up the map he'd gotten from the Avina terminal to find the best way to this Barla Von.
His VI quickly located the establishment that Barla Von owned, on the other side of the water, and placed a callout on it. As Shepard watched the taxi lift away with the rest of the team aboard, he turned slowly, taking the scene in.
It was a lot like a business park on Earth. Structures over 20 stories high swept skyward in graceful curves, fountains dotted the water. Birds chirped from trees that looked completely familiar. He found himself veering to the right, only slightly out of his way toward a series of lighted pillars that opened into an area that below the water level. The causeway angled to the left, away from them.
But it took him right up to something that looked like it simply didn't belong: a tiny mass relay.
Mass relays, one of the amazing bits of technology left by the Protheans, formed a sort of subway system around the galaxy. Drop into this one here, pop out of that one over there. But "there" could be 90,000 light years away. Though there was a measurable delay, it was milliseconds of "discontinuity" from one relay to the next.
There were under a hundred known ("mapped") relays, and while others were being discovered from time to time, they were enormous; fifteen kilometers from end to end, looking something like a tuning fork with a ring near the closed end; actually a group of rotating rings holding in place an exposed element zero core almost a kilometer across. The rings were powered by the core, and kept its emissions down to almost zero; consequently, mass relays were effectively "astronomical blackbodies," undetectable, even at interplanetary distances.
And yet here was one barely fifty meters long with no eezo core. Shepard studied it as he approached, noticing that while everything else in the Citadel was kept shiny and white, this relay was dingy and gray. It looked ancient, in fact, and out of place. Even the causeway he was walking on seemed to be trying to avoid it.
"Victor Indigo, can you get the Avina terminal for me? What's this mass relay thing doing here?"
The Avina avatar appeared in a window on his ARO. "Discovered by the asari who first arrived at the Citadel, the relay monument is one of the station's most interesting and controversial features," the VI said. "What is the meaning of this striking piece of art? Is it a tribute to Prothean vanity? A reminder of their conquest of the galaxy through mass relay technology? Or perhaps it is a symbol of unity, a Prothean acknowledgement that the relays would eventually lead other species here to the Citadel?
"No one can say for sure, making the Relay Monument a favourite topic of discussion among academics and scholars."
He stopped in front of it, studying its details. His ARO superimposed a wireframe of a mass relay over it; the thing was an exact duplicate in every detail. He wasn't close enough to scan it with TransOpter, but at this distance, even his omnitool showed it had internal structures. The lighting appeared to be operating, too; presumably drawing its power from the environment.
He continued to stare at it for almost a minute, wondering if it had ever operated as a mass relay, perhaps reducing the size of things that came through it somehow, or else its counterpart was of the same size. At last, he turned left and continued along the angled section of the causeway.
Birds and trees were pleasantly distracting; he touched a key on his wrist as he walked, retracting and collapsing his helmet. It was a trade of snug, armored climate control for the ability to smell, be a part of the world. A deep breath brought an array of fragrances: Freshly cut grass, vanilla, Impervium, and the cool sensation of a gentle breeze on his face.
What a beautiful place, he thought, At least I understand the appeal now.
He looked over his shoulder as he walked, getting one last look at the miniature mass relay before it was obscured by trees. Looking for Barla Von's office, he noticed a hall to his left; it was populated with asari, salarians, and a few humans. Fabrication Control Arcs stood in perhaps a dozen places, but only a few of them had operators.
That's weird, he thought. He approached, intending to ask one of the humans, but his eye was caught by a bright magenta-colored pillar.
His onboard VI noticed his attention and displayed, Hanar: Normally waterborne, sapient ichthivore. Address as "Delan." He approached slowly, watching as the thing – it must have been almost three meters tall – simply stood there, undulating gently.
A voice came from it, sounding distant and ethereal. "Ah…human. This one is greatly pleased to see you here in its decadent Emporium."
Shepard couldn't help but smile to be addressed in this manner. "Thank you. Is this whole hall yours?"
"This one is merely a shopkeeper and technician among many. It has been here for many cycles, and most other operators allow it space for…unusual projects."
Shepard paused, trying to understand all that he'd just been told. "So who are you?"
"This one's face name is Delanynder, though many in this place simply call it 'Delan.'"
He gestured to the fabrication equipment. "And you're…both a maker and a seller?"
"Truly." The hanar dipped slightly, as if bowing in acknowledgement. "Please take time to examine the fine goods it has for purchase, all of great worth."
"What exactly do you sell?"
"Only the finest and most luxurious items that credits can buy. This one is able to fabricate almost any item the human would desire…for a price, naturally."
"I'd like to see these rare and wonderful items." He smirked to himself. Surely they're just overpriced, he thought. I wonder if this thing can detect sarcasm?
"Oh, this one is pleased to do so, human. You will not be disappointed." With the bulk of its mass perched atop six slender tentacles, Shepard had expected a weird dance if the hanar was going to go anyplace. Instead, it seemed to ooze downward, out of the way of the holographic displays behind it. All but one of the tentacles curled into loops at its base; the last reached up to the controls, and manipulated them. "This one has several items that it has fabricated based on existing designs from the Sirta Foundation, Serris Council and Devlon Industries." Isometric views of armor and weapons appeared, slowly parading across the lowest of the holopanels.
"Wait, then. Before you get started, can I buy fabrication licenses from you for those companies?"
"Of course. It is also a Class 1 franchisee and able to accept both subsidiaries and cofabbers."
"It's not for me, but my ship is new, and the MFO had to leave his licenses with his previous ship. I know the Alliance doesn't generally buy the alien corporate licenses, but I thought I could afford them on my own."
"Certainly, human." The lone tentacle whipped to another section of the panel, moved in a blur, and then returned to its presentation.
K. Alenko: We're here, sir. Jenkins is investigating the market. Williams and I are headed to the club, displayed Shepard's ARO.
In a separate translucent window, it added,
Offered for sale: Sirta Foundation fabrication license - 92 credits (81 + 11VAT)
Offered for sale: Serrice Council fabrication license - 92 credits (81 + 11VAT)
Offered for sale: Devlon Industries fabrication license - 92 credits (81 + 11VAT)
Shepard accepted all three, and lowered his omnitool. Looking up, he saw the holographic panels had continued to fill with products with which he was passingly familiar and largely uninterested.
The magenta jellyfish-out-of-water apparently noticed this. "But perhaps the human is not looking for the mundane. This one notices the other wears Earth Alliance armor."
Shepard looked from the holography to the hanar. "I wouldn't normally, but my CO – that's my Commanding Officer – asked me to."
"This one offers its condolences for the encumbrance. Though it also notices an opportunity. If the human is interested, this one would welcome the opportunity to both lighten and strengthen the other's armor."
"That would take some serious time, I assume."
"Truly. But would this not be of benefit to the other? What is the value one's health or life?"
Shepard smiled in amusement. "You're quite a seller…but I have a meeting to get to, and I hope you'll excuse me; I think I should be going." He took a step backward.
"It hopes it has not offended, and invites the other to return soon. This one is constantly innovating and experimenting."
# # #
Fist had noticed from the camera view that Saren had been aboard his ship, and since that meant the turian and his girlfriend were going somewhere, they would almost certainly still be there. He opened Recent Calls, and touched the most recent Unknown Caller 04.
Connecting.
Encryption handshake.
Key applied successfully.
Fist almost rolled his eyes when Saren's pet asari answered, looking as haughty as she always did.
"Fist. What is it?"
He raised his voice slightly, spoke past her as if she wasn't even there, "Hey, Saren. That info I sold you about the quarian's offer must have been real hot. The Shadow Borker sent a mercenary over to say so."
"And…?" Saren switched the display to the screen near him, and leaned on an armrest irritably.
"And I might need some help. It's a krogan. Looks like former Blood Pack. Real big."
"For the price of that intel conversion, you can afford all the help you want." Saren shifted in his chair. "Is there something else? I'm busy."
"The intel leak you're trying to plug by killing the quarian is getting bigger. Your hit on the Alliance colony? That ship is here at the Citadel; they just sent a couple of flunkies to shake some info out of a C-Sec human…uh...Hawking? No wait…Harkin. They called their superior after they came in and leaned on him. Something about a C-Sec officer named Vakarian." Fist waved at another of his displays. "Looks like they messaged out, but no reply came back."
Saren had years of practice at negotiating, but Benezia noticed him cracking his right talons. He's anxious, she thought.
"Shepard?" Saren leaned up close to the camera. "That officer from Anderson's ship?"
Fist looked into camera again, pointing back at the display he'd been reading from. "Snooper says he was talking to someone named 'Steven'. Is that the guy you're looking for?"
Benezia made eye contact with Saren, and held up a hand, advising restraint.
Fist tapped on the display to his left. "Looks like they're still sitting there for the moment."
"I can't get there ahead of him," Saren realized aloud, thinking about the location of Fist's club. "Delay them. Send drinks to his people. And send over some dancers to distract them; keep them there long enough to draw Shepard out. Kill him at the bridge from that gray market station."
"You're kidding, right? I got enough troubles when that krogan comes back; he'll probably bring friends. You think I can just hire new guys before he gets here?"
"Have you figured out how easy it is to hire new people when you can pay them well?"
"Not in the next five minutes. I don't keep a bench of potential hires. I don't have any more. Even G'haz isn't an assassin, he's a bouncer; my top three guys are setting up to meet your quarian."
Saren began scraping one talon across another, sharpening them both. "I'll send you some contractors. And it will come out of your balance payment."
"Only if they live," Fist parried.
"Your problem, human, is that you keep hiring incompetents." He looked up at the screen. "I'll brief them and send them to replace your doorkeeper. When they're done, you'll pay them directly. Don't let the little people leave before Shepard gets there." Saren casually closed the link again.
Benezia sighed.
"I don't want to hear it," Saren growled. "'We can find a better way.' You seem to forget that even if this works, billions will die. If Shepard alerts others to the message of the Beacon, they may do something about it, and all our work will be for nothing."
"They've already rejected his report—"
"I know! And that is why we must be rid of him now. He's the only other source of information on it. He must be eliminated!" He pointed across the cabin at her, "Call Temmer and Eldil. Send them to Fist's club. Three hundred thousand credits to the one who kills Shepard, two hundred thousand to the other. Make sure Fist keeps the soldiers there long enough to get Shepard."
# # #
The door to the financial office was open; as Shepard approached it, he noticed a salarian leaning idly against the wall next to it. Shepard's ARO flashed a warning, and then covered the salarian with callouts.
Quick-deploy Derringer needlegun
Shielding +160
90cm retractable foil
Augmented venom glands and musculature
Overclocked STG ARA
The list went on, but Shepard simply made a mental note that this doorkeeper was not a character to be taken lightly. He also pretended to be ignorant of it, and continued into the one-room establishment. VI systems covered the walls on both sides, a decorative holograph filled the far end, and a low desk sat near the middle of the room. Behind the desk was a rotund, environment-suited alien just over a meter tall. Shepard found himself smiling again; the volus really did look like beach balls with little arms and legs.
"What's this? One of the Earthclan…?" The volus paused, reading from an HUD. "Ah, a very famous one, yes? You are the one called Shepard." He extended his arms toward Shepard in a gesture of volus welcome. "It is a great honor to welcome the hero of the Blitz."
Shepard stopped quite short of the desk in surprise. "Thanks," he replied. "I…don't get that from a lot of aliens." He returned the gesture from across the room as his ARO prompted, and took another step toward the desk.
"Forgive me, Earthclan. My name is Barla Von; my job makes it necessary for me to keep informed. I am a financial advisor to many important clients here on the Citadel. When someone as notable as yourself arrives on the station, I take notice."
"I've heard you work for the Shadow Broker. Do you have any information about Saren?"
The door behind him immediately hissed closed and thunked quietly. A tone sounded.
Room secured. Surveillance Countermeasures in effect. No ERD operation permitted, read Shepard's ARO. Highlights began to appear on the devices lining the walls, the ceiling, and the desk as equipment came to life. The local network access indicator appeared, flashed thrice, dropped to zero, and flashed again before fading slowly off.
Shepard carefully raised his left hand to his chin as a distraction - as he lowered his right toward the sidearm on his leg.
The volus answered as if nothing had changed, "You're very blunt, Shepard, but you're right, I am a representative for the Shadow Broker…and I do know something…about Saren."
"I also hear your info can be expensive."
"Normally this information would cost a small fortune. But these are extraordinary circumstances. So I am going to give it to you…for free."
"Free?" Shepard folded his arms. "What's the catch?"
"There is no catch. The Shadow Broker is quite upset with Saren right now. They used to do a lot of business. Until Saren turned on him."
"Hm. I think Saren's turned on a lot of people lately."
"No matter what you've heard, Saren's not stupid. He knows the Shadow Broker is a valuable ally. Turning on him doesn't make any sense…unless there was something really big at stake. I don't know the details, but the Shadow Broker's hired a freelancer to deal with it. A krogan mercenary."
Shepard paused, waiting for the volus to continue. "That's not much to go on."
"I just told you that the most famous spectre in the galaxy betrayed the Shadow Broker, and will identify the enforcer who's been hired to make the hit. Quite a bargain, considering the price. Speak with the krogan if you want to learn more." He pointed at a holographic display to his left. "I see he is paying a visit to Citadel Security. If you hurry, you might catch him before he leaves the academy."
"Isn't it strange that a mercenary on a contract would want to speak to C-Sec?"
"Very. But I suspect the visit was not entirely his choice. You'll need to speak with him if you want to know more."
"Have you met this krogan?"
"No, but I will know him when I see him. He will be coming here after he completes his assignment."
"Which is…?"
"Valuable and privileged information," Barla nodded slowly.
"And what are you or the Shadow Broker hoping I'll do with this information?"
"I suspect that the Broker would like it if you managed to kill Saren and his agents." He paused to inhale. "I have met with the Agent on several occasions, and would rather he be saved. He is a valuable member of the Spectres, and I can personally attest to the fact that his actions have saved thousands of my people. The turians are our military patrons, after all."
Shepard frowned. "He may have led an attack of geth against a human colony. Unless the Council put him up to it, I think something has changed."
The volus made a circular motion with his left hand. "Indeed. But perhaps it can be changed back."
Shepard's ARO added a callout to the volus' left hand: Agreement; the gesture is a reference to a volus proverb, "the wheel of choice moves eternally."
He looked around briefly for a chair; none were apparent. The volus had designed the space to make the visitor feel powerful, but it seemed the relationship was actually quite the reverse. "This place seems awfully secure. What do you do here normally?"
"Galactic finance is incredibly complex. A mix of laws, customs, and regulations from dozens of interstellar ecomomies. I'm an expert in how all these economies interact. For a fee, I share my expertise. I also offer premium services for those clients who need someone to conduct business without drawing unwanted attention. Discreet and efficient, that's my motto."
"Hmm…even that sounds pretty shady."
The volus raised both hands in a gesture that Shepard's ARO identified as one of submission. "Everything I do falls completely within the bounds of interstellar commerce law. Even so, many of my clients would prefer that their transactions remain undisclosed." The slowly-gyrating holographic art behind the volus faded to black as it was replaced by a 2D holograph displaying relevant imagery.
He continued, "For example, suppose a hanar was petitioning the Council to reduce the tariffs on hanar goods. How would it look if he had personal money invested in a hanar exporting company? Even if his true motives were to help his people, he would be accused of advancing the petition for his own personal gain. I can keep his personal finances private."
Shepard watched the display, noticed as it restarted its loop, and then looked back to the volus. "Still sounds shady to me."
"Then we can only hope you will never be cursed with a large enough fortune to require my services."
"And yet you're an agent for the Shadow Broker. Any business I do with you would surely be made known to him...or them. How many of your clients know that?"
"Most of my clients know of the relationship and it makes them feel self-important...at first. Then they tend to forget about it. Those that do not...it makes them nervous. In truth, the people in whom the Shadow Broker takes an interest are often beyond caring that he does."
"At least until it's too late." Shepard nodded to himself. "So what's your relationship with the Shadow Broker?"
"Most people think I deal in finances. This is true, but not the whole truth. My real currency is knowledge." As he spoke, the 3D projection behind him continued to change, displaying imagery that varied from relevant to what looked like simply advertising. "I trade information, and it has made me very wealthy. But the Shadow Broker is the real master. Every day, he buys and sell secrets that could topple governments. Always selling them to the highest bidder.
"Yet somehow he never seems to upset the natural balance of power. All those secrets being passed around seem to even out. Nobody ends up with an advantage in the end."
"Any guess what his identity might be?"
"Even if I did, it would cost you dearly to find out from me. But in fact, I don't know. Nobody does, and this protects both parties. The Shadow Broker could be any race, any gender, any number. I have a theory that it's actually an entire group, working under one identity. How else could they juggle so many contacts at the same time? How else could they keep all that information from getting crossed?"
With a good VI suite, Shepard thought. How can this guy not know the tech for that is not unreal, merely expensive?
"But they've got the perfect setup," Von continued, "Every government is forced to play their game so they don't get behind. But no matter how long you play, no matter how many secrets you buy, it seems you can never win."
Shepard glanced around the room; his ARO did not seem to be finding any cameras. "I thought you'd know more about the man you work for."
"From time to time, I come across information I sell to the Shadow Broker. That's my only involvement. I like it that way. The more you know, the more dangerous the game becomes. I don't like danger, Commander. I'll leave that to you."
Shepard nodded, thinking about where he should go next, and what he had seen here already. "What's it like living here on the Citadel?"
"The station is, without a doubt, the greatest wonder in the galaxy; it is a technological marvel. But its true splendor goes much deeper than the hull and engines. From the Presidium Ring to the Ward Arms, the entire station is a testament to the success of the Council. All the species of Citadel space together…in a single, strong community."
"What makes the Presidium so special?"
"It is the political center of Citadel space. Eighty percent of all intelligent species in the known galaxy acknowledge the Council's authority," the volus paused, inhaling noisily, "on interstellar matters. But only the most powerful and influential species have embassies here on the Presidium." He inhaled again, "This level of the station is reserved for the elite, Shepard. People like us."
He snorted a laugh. "Don't let your head get too big there. You won't be able to get back out the door." Shepard waved a thumb over his shoulder. "The wards comprise the vast majority of the station's mass and resource consumption, yes? Aren't they also something remarkable?"
"Indeed they are [rasp] the cultural heart of the galaxy. They pulse with the lifeblood of millions of citizens from dozens of different species. You never know what you'll find down in the wards, Commander. [rasp] It's always full of surprises. [rasp] Fortunately, most of them are pleasant."
Shepard paused. "Is it just me, or are you having trouble breathing? Should I call for help?"
Barla waved one hand, adjusted his suit controls with the other. "No, I simply don't often speak at such length. But in addition to its ammonia content, my home planet's atmosphere has a relatively high pressure, so it can be something of a struggle for us - the vol-clan, that is - to breathe here. I assume you don't recognize the Frant-designed suit I'm wearing; it's very expensive, but it has an unusual breathing assistance system. If you meet any of my clansmates, you will probably notice their breathing more."
"Hm." Shepard glanced at the door behind him. "Any places or sights you recommend? My team and I are going to have a little free time at some point, I hope. It'd be nice to know where to go or what to do."
"Of course. There is a very nice view of the station to be had for free near the entrance to Flux, an establishment that is of some interest itself." Barla Von nodded; And it's always a good idea to send business to a fellow clansman.
Shepard nodded. "That sounds like a good start. And what's the fastest way to get to C-Sec?"
"Just outside the door and to the left is a public transit station. The main C-Sec office is in this sector, but the transit is faster than walking."
"Thank you for your time. And information." Shepard bowed slightly. As he did, the door clunked and opened.
"Not at all, Commander Shepard. Thank you. Please visit again."
As he stepped outside the door, Shepard's ARO displayed a message: Delayed message from K. Alenko:
Sir, we've located Vakarian, but he's answering a call for shots fired near a place called Apollo's Café. I'm not sure we should bother him while he's on duty.
Message arrived six minutes ago.
Shepard turned and started walking the short distance to the public transit station. "Message to Kaidan: Doesn't get more official business than this. I'm on my way to pick you up. Finish your drinks or whatever you're doing and head for the taxi stand. I should be there in a couple of minutes." He lowered his arm; the taxi door opened as he approached. "Taxi, take me to Chora's Den," he said as he sat down in it.
The door hissed down and thunked into place; Chora's Den appeared on the Destination display. Shepard didn't lean back in the seat as the taxi lifted away from the landing spot; another air taxi rose into place from below. Aside from the fact that it was beautiful, he was still fairly curious about the Citadel.
Kaidan's reply appeared in a translucent window: What did you find out?
Shepard thought for a moment, then gestured for a message and spoke his reply aloud: "There's a krogan mercenary who's been sent by the Shadow Broker to kill Saren. We need to get to him and find out what he knows before this merc finds and kills him. The merc's been picked up by C-Sec, and is there now. Hopefully they can keep him there at least long enough for us to find out if the Shadow Broker told him where Saren is. What about you?"
He looked out the window, noticing that the air taxi had backed up over the water, and then slid laterally into a snug but well-lit transit accessway, where it began descending like an elevator.
Looks like Officer Vakarian is responding to that Shots Fired call. Williams got a finder for him. We just got offered a meal here at this place where Harkin was hanging out. How much of a hurry are we in to get this Vakarian?
Shepard gestured for another message, "Pretty big hurry…uh...don't want the trail to go cold. But I know you won't want to pass up free food; see if you can get a rain check on that meal."
The air taxi had accelerated forward briefly, joining other aircars, but then slowed and climbed as it approached a platform. Its main info window displayed a Distance to Destination, and it was in the double-digit meters.
"Meet me at the taxi stand. I can see it already."
As the taxi settled onto the platform, Shepard noted that the ride had cost almost 200 credits. Scowling at having to eat into his newfound money, he reached to the control interface and tapped the Hold for Pickup key.
If Saren has somehow gotten control of the geth, would killing him be good or bad? We need to find out what's really going on, not kill him. This Shadow Broker either doesn't know or doesn't appreciate what's at stake here.
He looked to his right, across the space left open for aircars that sped by on levels below. His ARO added a callout to the entrance, identifying it as Chora's Den, but with no other civilian information; it was obvious but not clearly marked. Two customers stepped out and along the walkway; Shepard studied the billboard-like holographs on the walls, drumming his fingers on the armrest as he thought about what to do next.
If I call Barla Von to explain that Saren was involved in the attack on Eden Prime, maybe I can get the Shadow Broker to cancel his kill order. But Von may not want to talk on an unsecured channel. There are simply too many unanswered questions invol—
The aircar's canopy crazed as it deflected a sniper round; then it exploded, fragments of the glasteel shattering around him as the second round followed. His shields slowed the third round significantly, but the impact above his right ear would surely have killed him had they not been up. His VI automatically spun his cognitive acceleration up to 6x, giving him time to notice the white-hot pain on the right side of his head just before the impact smashed his head against what remained of the canopy.
Incisor fire. Shooter located, his VI displayed on his ARO.
It did not matter; Shepard could not see it.
# # #
Richard asked, "So what do we do? We just sit here and wait for him? That C-Sec guy might be somewhere else by the time we get to Apollo's place."
Kaidan toggled his gauntlet off and nodded. "Yeah…I know. I'd rather hear back from the XO. What did you find at the market?"
Rich seemed to light up at the chance to report. "It was like one of those slummy markets on Boskone. Must have been a dozen little sellers crammed in there; lots of Citadel stuff. I bought this model for my folks." He pulled a 10-centimeter box out of a pocket, set it on the table and pushed it toward Kaidan. "That was 200 credits. If the Commander hadn't split the payout from the salarian, I'd have had to settle for one of the video tours, and even those are a C-note." He shook his head. "Everything here is konko expensive."
Handing the model back to Richard, Kaidan noticed that Harkin was back in his chair, eyeing Ash, and not being very subtle about it. The Gunnery Chief was watching the single beer on their table with a strange intensity. "You know," she looked up and spoke toward Kaidan, "Even with that guy in his place, I am so ready to go." She shook her head.
Kaidan rendered his omnitool gauntlet and glanced at it. "Nothing from the Commander yet. Though I suppose this place is so popular because of the...views." He turned to Ash, "We could go to the market if you'd rather sit there."
Rich shook his head. "Nope...there's no place to sit." He finally looked away from the dancers. "At the market."
Ash glanced at the dancer and then at Richard. "Hey, Corporal...put your tongue back in your mouth before you trip on it." She looked over her shoulder. "Maybe we can get a table on the other side?"
Kaidan looked around the circular center bar at the seating available. "Only if you want a lap dance," he said. "Otherwise ya gotta stand at the bar."
Ash glanced to her left and growled in exasperation. "Isn't there just one other table?" She was very pointedly not looking at Harkin. "I can see that slimebucket still ogling me. I may have to pull his intestines out through his nose."
A salarian appeared at the table, quickly laid out napkin coasters and deposited glasses of icewater on them. The tray disappeared behind his back. "The owner has learned you just returned from Eden Prime and wishes to offer you each a complimentary meal." He gestured in the air, and menu holographs appeared in front of each of them. "I suggest you start with the Human menu. I expect you don't yet know what you want, so I'll be back after you've had a few minutes. Excuse me." He looked quickly at each of the three humans and dashed off.
Rich turned to look after the salarian. "What was that?"
"A salarian," Ash said impatiently.
"I know that," Rich continued to watch the willowy green alien. "I mean what kind of…treatment was that?"
"Salarians are all speedy like that," Kaidan said. "They have real fast metabolisms. I think they're usually dead by forty."
"Fourty?" Ash turned to the Lieutenant. "I thought they were like the asari. You'd have to get a lot of living in by fourty."
"Yeah, I suppose." Kaidan nodded idly, looked at the menu. "Still…this is nice. We can eat on the Citadel, and someone else buys."
Rich adjusted his menu size with a gesture, flipped to another section. "Maybe we should just order an appetizer or something. Not going to be here for long. Uh...are we?"
"Sure hope not," Ash said.
"It might be smart to go try to meet this Vakarian as soon as we can. Even with that finder, we'll have to track him down again if we don't go with what we have now."
A pair of fingers danced their way across Kaidan's scalp, and he turned, startled.
"Hey, soldier boy. I can feel you from across the room." One of the asari dancers had come up behind him from the little hallway. She twanged one of his ears playfully. "These things really let you hear better?" The blue alien laughed, slid into his lap, draped an arm across his shoulders. "And you are biotic, too! I have thought there are not many biotic humans…why would they make you be soldier? You could get killed!" Her accent was unusual; most asari used a kind of neurolearning that gave them a standard VI web accent that had been in use for over a century and was easily understood by most Alliance humans. This one sounded like she had learned from a Russian.
Kaidan's right hand gripped the chair. "Ahm…uh…I didn't order a…"
"What…a lap dance?" The asari laughed again, "No, and no. I am not private dancer, I am artist. See the outfit? If I am on the floor, it is because I choose you."
"Oh my god, I think I'm going to be ill," Ash thumped an elbow on the table and put her hand over her eyes.
The asari glanced at her, then back at Kaidan. "You have matriarchs in your front-line units?"
Kaidan looked quickly at Ash and then back. "What?"
"AH-len-ko." The small, attractive asari tapped a finger on Kaidan's name tag. "Alenko. Humans have long names, I remember. What is your long name, sweet soldier boy?"
Still flustered, but recovering quickly, Kaidan said, "Kaidan Lawrence Alenko."
"KaydenlorentsalLENko. Why do you need such a long name?"
"It's actually three names, but…uh…we use the same ones over and over. Just in different orders."
"The same names?" A look over at Ash, "And what is your long name?"
Ash had looked up at Kaidan. "Are we really going to sit here and do this?"
"She doesn't have the same names as him," Rich pointed at Ash and then at Kaidan. "The Lieutenant just means that we have…" He looked away in thought, "Oh, I don't know…50,000 given names, and then variants of 'em."
The asari turned to look at Rich, and squinted. "What?"
The young soldier was practically babbling. "Usually different names for boys and girls…uh…males and females. So maybe it works out to a quarter million different names, and most people have two or three. But then family names are different. Mostly. People often name children after other family members, and that can be helpful when you're trying to figure out who's related to who…"
The asari dancer took a couple of quick sniffs of air as if smelling something. A hand shot out and brushed Rich's cheek briefly, then returned. Another sniff, and flick of pink tongue, and an almost lecherous smile formed instantly. "You. You have not melded." The sultry form seemed to almost flow from Kaidan's lap to standing behind Rich's chair. "I am wanting to try an unmelded human."
Richard inhaled shaply as he found the asari had leaned over him and gripped his head with the fingertips of both hands. There was something simply electrifying about it. His eyes were huge, but he had stopped seeing what he was looking at. "What…what are you doing?"
"I wish to first sense you. Why are you so…clenched?"
Richard swallowed. "I'm…protected. From temptation. What you feel is the power…of…my temple garments—" He noticed Kaidan shaking his head once, quickly, and went instantly silent.
The asari looked down at him and began to smile. "Ha! That is very cute. It is from Earth vid?"
Ash was incendiary, "It's his religion, you pretentious, two-bit—"
"Chief!" Kaidan barked.
Ash looked at Kaidan, then again at the asari, and sighed.
"Sorry, she's not quite herself right now," Kaidan said. "She just lost her whole unit on Eden Prime."
The asari stood, releasing Rich's head. "I am so sorry. My greatmother was in Krogan Rebellions; she lost many friends, and never forgot them. It was very painful for her."
Kaidan's ARO displayed a message: S. Shepard: Doesn't get more official business than this. I'm on my way to pick you up. Finish your drinks or whatever you're doing and head for the taxi stand. I should be there in a couple of minutes.
The asari looked down at Rich again, and then ran a hand through his hair from front to back. "I am sorry to you, too. I did not mean to scare you."
"I wasn't scared, I'm…strong."
"Too scared to admit it counts two times," the dancer smiled, leaned over his head and looked down at him, "Are you strong enough for me?"
"Leave him alone," Ash growled softly.
The asari recoiled. "You are his bondmate? Or his mother?"
"Maybe I am," Ash leaned forward.
Meanwhile, Kaidan had gestured for a message. He subvocalized, What did you find out?
S. Shepard: There's a krogan mercenary who's been sent by the Shadow Broker to kill Saren. We need to get to Saren and find out what he knows before this merc finds and kills him. The merc's been picked up by C-Sec, and is in custody now. What about you?
Kaidan subvocalized, Officer Vakarian is responding to a Shots Fired call; Williams got a finder for him. We just got offered a meal here at this place where Harkin was hanging out. How much of a hurry are we in to get this Vakarian?
S. Shepard: Pretty big hurry. Don't want the trail to go cold. But I know you won't want to pass up free food. See if you can get a rain check on that meal. Meet me at the taxi stand. I can see it already.
Kaidan looked at Ash as she leaned forward, staring daggers at the asari, and Rich, who was fighting a different kind of battle. "Okay, the XO's almost here. Is there a way we can have this meal that was offered when we come back?" He rose from the table.
"Meal?"
Kaidan looked around the club, trying to spot the salarian waiter. "You know what? I'm not sure this is the place for me anyway. I'm sorry, we have to go." He gathered the others with his eyes, "Williams, Jenkins: Come on." He waved his head toward the door.
"Wait," said the asari, "You are looking for salarian waiter?"
Kaidan turned. "Yes, I wanted to ask if we can come back in a bit. There's a small emergency we have to deal with, but we should be back within the hour."
"This is Godo, he is only salarian waiter we need. Wait here, I will find him for you."
Kaidan was glad for the help, but growing suspicious of the attention. "Thanks, that would help. We'll be waiting by the door." He pointed.
"You will wait right here," the asari said, waving at the table and dashing off. "Do not lose your table. I will find him. Waiting for Godo."
Kaidan scowled. "I don't like the feel of this," he said. "Williams, Jenkins, get over to the door."
"I'm not leaving you, sir," Ash sounded determined, "I've done enough of that."
"That wasn't a request, Chief. If someone's after us, we make a harder target by splitting up. Now go." Glancing toward the exit, Kaidan noticed a number of people were starting to crowd the door, looking outside. The salarian waiter was facing into the club, arms extended, looking like he was trying to keep people from leaving. The krogan bouncer was also turned in toward the gathering crowd, arms out.
"That looks bad," Rich said.
"They're herding people in?" Ash sounded confused.
Gunfire sounded outside the door.
"That's bad!" Rich put a hand over his shoulder and grabbed the assault rifle off his SmartPak.
"Hey, don't use that thing in here," shouted one of the krogan guards. Rich glanced at him, and slapped the gauntlet key to deploy his helmet as he ran to the door.
*** Glossary ***
Ichthivore: fish-eater
Impervium: trade name of a printable, self-healing carbon material used to make most architectural facing. Highly stable, resistant to weathering and weapons fire but not to the omnigel catalyst.
MFO: Master Fabrication Officer
