XVII

Many a Weary Foot

The next morning, Garrus did actually have a few hours to kill, but Tali was busy—overseeing a shielding upgrade for the Normandy. She told him about the specs over breakfast—revolutionary cyclonic technology that didn't rely upon absorbing the energy of a blast but instead thrust it off to the side. A ship could withstand a lot more heavy fire, Tali said, and she was working with Ken Donnelly to optimize the power efficiency. "He's very talented, for a human." she told Garrus. A passing servicewoman shot her a look, and she ducked her head. "I mean, considering he never grew up on the Migrant Fleet." she added hastily.

Garrus laughed at her. "And you accuse them of bigotry," he teased.

"It's just fact," Tali protested. "Quarians have to be good with ships and technology. Our existence depends on it. Everyone is trained in suit maintenance, emergency ship repair, salvage techniques. Most members of other species just don't get that kind of education. They don't need it. There's nothing wrong with that."

Garrus wagged his finger at her mockingly. "Keep digging, Tali. I'm sure you'll eventually find your way out." It was true, of course, but she felt so bad he couldn't resist. She lost patience with him and flipped her dirty straw at him. He dodged, grinning, and finished his breakfast.

He left the ship and wandered through the streets. Shepard wanted him to meet her and the professor midmarket after lunch to follow up on a lead Liara had given her about their assassin. Garrus tried not to feel too irritated Liara had found her information first. Finding Krios was more time sensitive than finding Sidonis. No one knew when the Collectors could hit the next colony, and they knew where Krios was this week, but next week he could be gone. But after they left Illium—he had no idea if they'd be going closer to Sidonis or across the galaxy from him.

Every second that bastard was still breathing was an itch at the back of his neck, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite everything, he was where he needed to be, where he wanted to be. He knew that. But if he was going to die in the next few months, he wanted to know Sidonis was dead too. That Melenis, Erash, Monteague—all of them had justice.

Waiting in an armorer's shop for the assistant to come out of the back with the tech he'd asked to see, Garrus couldn't help keying a message to the obscure address he'd trawled the extranet for the evening after they'd rescued Oriana Lawson. Any progress? –GV

After reviewing all his options at the armorer's, Garrus accepted the fact that he was going to have to settle for a patch instead of an entirely new hardsuit, and it was going to take almost all the credits he had left. Garrus resigned himself to Gardener's cooking for most of the rest of shore leave and left his hardsuit with the shop tech, glad he'd anticipated this outcome before leaving the ship. He walked out in one of his new suits, feeling strangely naked without his armor. When was the last time you left home without it? Eight months? Longer?

He'd left his rifles back on the Normandy, too, so all he had was the modified Phalanx he'd been playing with for a while, holstered and belted instead of clipped to his hip. He walked up a nearby flight of stairs to an elevated street and parked at the railing, watching the skyline, the skycars flying to parties and business meetings and universities all over town. He tried to classify them by planet of origin and was surprised by how many human designs he saw. Human ship design hadn't developed a distinctive aesthetic style yet, but just like their politics, their engines had some power. It made sense that the Hierarchy might be interested in their ships and skycars—after all, the Normandy had been designed as a Hierarchy-Alliance collaboration—and the salarians were all about efficiency, but it was interesting to see so many human-made vehicles on an asari world. For all they were relative newcomers to the galactic scene, humans had made a big impact in their three decades. A lot of people didn't like it, thought humans were pushy, imperialistic. So volatile and aggressive sometimes that they could be smaller, weaker krogan—but more numerous and a hell of a lot smarter. Dangerous.

They weren't challenging the Hierarchy's military power just yet, but Garrus figured it was just as well the asari had stepped in to end the Relay 314 Incident. As far as he could tell, most humans weren't out to conquer the galaxy, which was more than you could say for most krogan—but they were demanding a seat at the table, and making advances in weapons and technology every year to back up those demands. I don't know. Maybe they're good for us. Dad says the Hierarchy has kicked things into high gear since the humans came on the scene after a couple centuries of complacency, and even the asari are starting to talk.

Hell, if I survive this and go back to the Hierarchy, they might want me in intelligence. Fill them in on human military operations. Garrus tapped his fingers against the railing. He knew one thing: Shepard wasn't standard human military. Shepard was something else.

His omni-tool buzzed then, and Garrus turned his wrist over to read a terse, irritated message from T'Soni. Give me time. I have an extensive network on- and off-planet, but finding one man in the entire galaxy isn't easy, and you're not my only client. I'll contact you when I have something. –L.

Garrus shut off his omni-tool and paced away from the balcony. "Excuse me," someone said. "Excuse me, sir."

He stopped to see who was talking to him, a young asari dressed in a black-and-white uniform. She held out a steaming glass of ariita to him. The strong, spicy scent cleared his head—but there were other spices in the scent he didn't recognize—and a slight chemical afterburn. "Compliments of your friend, sir," she said, nodding at another asari he'd never seen before seated at a table outside a coffee shop next to his armorer. She tipped him a smirk and a wave, and swept her hand toward the chair across from her.

Something about the way she was looking at him made Garrus uneasy, and on a hunch, he tipped the glass back and pretended to take a sip before sitting down. She smiled wider. "My name is Neryn," she said quietly. "You looked lonely. Thought you might want some company."

"Maybe I like being alone," Garrus returned, pretending to drink again.

Neryn's eyes glimmered. "Maybe you do, but they tell me the Nos Astra ariita roast isn't something to miss, especially on a morning like this."

"You often buy gourmet ariita for strangers, Neryn?" Garrus asked. "You never asked my name."

"I don't need to know your name. Your face is enough, Archangel. Don't bother trying to move." The asari's tone turned menacing, hateful, though she didn't raise her voice above a light conversational volume. "Your ariita is strong enough to mask any poison, and there's enough toxin running through you right now to down a krogan. You'll start to feel it any second now. In two minutes you'll be unable to call for help. By the time help gets here, it'll be too late."

Garrus tensed all over, letting her see what she expected, letting her talk.

Neryn laughed. "I wasn't here for you today," she exulted. "I was here to take out the COO of Trion Corp. He stops here on his break every morning for a snack. Our clients want to destabilize the competition. But when I call ahead and say I saw Archangel in the café, my boss will set up a sniper in the alley on the suit's way home. They'll understand the opportunity was too good to miss." Her eyes roamed over Garrus's scar hungrily. "You were so invisible on Omega, but at least Tarak did some good before you shot him down. Now every merc in the Terminus knows to watch for that ugly face. I can't believe I'm the one that gets to take you out. You killed my sister. Two days ago."

Garrus twitched his arms, ostensibly reacting to the poison he hadn't drunk, but really moving his hand to his gun. "Enyala's crew killed civilians and were going after a kid," he said, in as conversational of a tone as Neryn. "You one of the two that got away, or are you from another Eclipse unit?" Neryn froze then. Her eyes narrowed. Garrus grinned. "Oh, am I supposed to be foaming at the mouth by now?"

Neryn's biotics flared, and she lunged across the table, but Garrus was ready for her. He caught her arm and dug his fingers into the hard knot of muscle beneath it and behind her shoulder. She cried out, and her biotics went dead. Garrus leveled his pistol at her head as he heard the waitress inside gasped. A couple of asari at a nearby table jumped up and hid behind it, whimpering.

"Nothing to worry about," Garrus called loudly. "Just a little attempted murder." He pushed Neryn back into her seat. "And an actual one." he added under his breath.

He walked around the table, squeezing Neryn's arm and shoulder all the way. "You bastard!" she gasped, tears of fear and anger leaking from her eyes. "Get spaced, asshole!"

"Someday, maybe," Garrus conceded. "But not today, I think. Now there are two ways this goes, Neryn: the gun," he pointed his pistol at her forehead to demonstrate, "or the glass." He nodded at the ariita she had bought him. "Most poisons are poisons to anyone, unless you're a vorcha, a krogan, or a volus, but you'd know that, wouldn't you? And if you have a dextro allergy, you might go even faster. Painful, no doubt, but you'd at least die with some dignity."

"You're insane," Neryn spat. "A sick, sadistic—you killed my sister! Her entire unit!"

"She was a murdering criminal. And so are you. The gun? Or the glass?"

Neryn tried to break free. Garrus twisted her shoulder in his hand and felt it pop outside of its socket. She groaned, and her body shook in a helpless sob. "Just get it over with, you son of a bitch," she said.

Garrus tilted his head. "If that's what you want." He fired.

The asari's body collapsed on the café table. Blood ran off the stone mosaic tabletop, dripped of the side, and started to pool on the sidewalk. Behind one of the other outdoor tables, one of the two asari had started to cry.

Garrus holstered his pistol, and using his talons, he ripped a section of the corpse's high collar away. Sure enough, in one of the most generic spots was a black, blazing tattoo of an "E," the asari's uniform even on an assassination mission. He left the tattoo exposed and fumbled in her pockets. He found a credit chit, brought it out, and examined the currency. With a twinge of regret, he left the 100-credit chit face-up on the table. "Did you poison the glass for her, or were you just hired to bring it to me?" he demanded of the waitress who'd just walked out of the café. She was pale and trembling, training a tiny pistol on him. He knew at a glance she couldn't shoot it straight.

"I don't know what you're talking about! She gave me a tip to get your attention and you—you killed her! You just—you just killed her!"

Garrus studied her and decided she was telling the truth. "She tried to kill me first, and she was planning another murder here today," he told her. "When the cops get here, have them run her prints and do a tox screen on the contents of this glass. And tell them to put a protection detail on the COO of Trion Corp. Might want to issue a warning to the whole company. One of their competitors hired an Eclipse cell to destabilize them."

The waitress's gun lowered about three centimeters as she realized he wasn't about to kill anyone else. "Who—who are you?"

"I'm no one. I was never here. Understand?" It wasn't a threat, but she didn't need to know that. The more the waitress knew about him, the more someone else could try to get out of her later.

"I—I—yes. Just go."

Garrus nodded and walked away.

He took a circuitous route back to the armorer's, through back alleys and foreign shops and side streets, but still got to the armorer five minutes after he'd heard the sirens. He wanted to be out of the neighborhood before the search order went out—just in case the waitress or the two terrified asari gave the cops a decent description. The shopowner was irritated at the rush, but business was slow, and Garrus walked out in ten more minutes with his patched armor and headed for the midmarket crowds.

It was luck, just bad luck that the Eclipse assassin had caught sight of him, caught him alone. But they knew his face. The sooner they were off Illium the better.


An hour and a half later, he caught up with Shepard and the professor outside the cargo shipping office rendezvous point. Shepard took one look at him and checked. "What's eating you?"

"Rough morning. Vacation isn't agreeing with me."

"This something we need to talk about?"

"Probably, but it's not priority. I'll fill you in back on the Normandy."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Shepard asked rhetorically. She sighed. "Come on."

There wasn't anything special about the shipping office Liara had directed them to. It was small, tucked away in the corner of the markets with outdated décor in the windows. A bell chimed when they walked inside, but no one greeted them. There were just three or four cubicles scattered across the floor and a selection of brown, cardboard boxes and two different-sized security crates set up for display on a dais at the end of the room. Shepard looked at the black-and-white nameplates on the cubicles, and walked into one without ceremony. "Seryna?"

Garrus walked in with Mordin, and saw the asari at the desk look Shepard up and down. She smirked. "Who wants to know?"

Garrus fought the familiar twinge of annoyance. Sometimes it seemed like two-thirds of the people they ran into wanted Shepard. The ones that aren't trying to shoot us, anyway, and they're decreasing fast. But people wanting Shepard was nothing new.

And at least she's always oblivious or completely uninterested. Shepard cut straight to business."Name's Shepard. Liara T'Soni said you might have information on Thane Krios."

In a flash, the asari wasn't interested in flirting, either. She shouted at a coworker across the way. "Tana, cover for me." She motioned for Shepard, Garrus, and the professor to follow her—out of the office and into the markets. Garrus looked around. Camera blind spot, too close to a busy street to be easily overheard. This woman knows what she's doing. Seryna turned to face them head on, arms crossed, legs shoulder-width apart in a clear defensive posture. "Yeah, I know who Thane Krios is. I might've passed him some information, but I didn't hire him. What do you want to know?"

Shepard's mouth turned down, but she held up a hand. "Relax. I'm not here to get you in trouble. We're just trying to find him."

Seryna snorted. "I can tell you, but you won't stop him. When he contacted me, I checked up on him. The man never gives up on a job. I ran security for Nassana Dantius. Then I found out she was having people killed to cover up her dirty secrets. She fired me when I confronted her." The asari shrugged, her eyes cold. "Her loss. I might've been good enough to stop Thane from taking her down."

Shepard tilted her head. "Nassana Dantius . . . Garrus, do we know her?"

Garrus had been trying to place the name himself. He snapped his fingers, remembering. "We killed her sister the slaver scouting out the cluster Liara was in. When we went to tell her, she tried to bribe us to keep it quiet."

Shepard snapped back, satisfied. "That's it."

Syrena looked impressed. "Well, you know what she's capable of, then. She has even more power here in Nos Astra. She uses it to keep her friends in check and her enemies dead."

Shepard regarded their new informant. "If you worked there, you must have an idea of what Thane's opposition will be."

Syrena nodded. "Eclipse mercs. High-tech killers. Undisciplined, but very well equipped. They don't much care who they kill, as long as they're paid for it. Thane has quite a reception waiting for him. I told him all I knew. He didn't seem worried."

Garrus looked grimly at Shepard. Eclipse. On the plus side, if this is the cell that Neryn was from, we might get a break. If not—well, we'll keep them guessing, anyway.

Shepard didn't even know about Neryn yet, but she wasn't happy, either. But her jaw was set, determined. They knew where their target was going now, which meant they had a definite location for the first and perhaps only time. "So where do I find Thane?"

"The Dantius Towers," Seryna answered. "Penthouse level of Tower One. There's a second tower, still under construction. If Thane is smart, he'll go in from there."

"But Nassana won't just let us in."

Seryna shook her head. "She's as smart as she is paranoid. No one's getting in or out of there without a fight. I can get you in, but you only get one shot. You better be ready."

That was a surprise. Shepard's eyes narrowed. "You're just offering your help. No strings attached?"

Seryna's lips turned upward, but the expression was nothing like a smile. "You're going to look for Thane. Nassana's mercenaries will try to stop you. At the least, you'll distract her guards. Take a little fire, give Thane a clear shot. I didn't hire him to kill Nassana, but I won't shed any tears when she gets what's coming to her."

Cold. I'm glad we're not on her bad side.

Shepard pressed Seryna for more information on the man they were after, but she didn't know much—except that the assassin had apparently gone rogue. He was apparently going after Dantius on his own, under the impression that killing her would make this world a better place. That put Shepard's nose out of joint, but Garrus was happy to hear their assassin apparently had some sort of code of ethics. They needed the best, so they'd hired Massani and Goto, brought on Jack, used Grunt, were working with Cerberus—all to defeat the Reapers. An assassin that knew the right people to kill was better than another Zaeed, just in it for the credits.

They arranged to meet Seryna by the taxi stand later that night. Before they went, Shepard wanted to pull in a little more muscle. If they were going up against Eclipse mercs again, they needed to be ready.


"I don't like this," Shepard said as they walked the streets late that night. "You're too hot, Garrus. This is too dangerous."

"Did you miss the mercs describing you in Wasea's base yesterday?" Garrus demanded. "You're as hot as I am right now. Besides, I've got specific orders from Miranda not to let you fight Archangel's war without Archangel."

Shepard bristled. "Miranda doesn't give the orders, I do, and we're not fighting Archangel's war, we just keep running into Archangel's enemies."

"The two of you are not alone," Samara broke in with authority. "I have sworn to fight beside you, Shepard. I will protect you both from the Eclipse sisters, with my life if the need arises."

"Hey, no one's dying," Jacob said. "We get in, get Krios, and get out. No reason this needs to turn into a bloodbath."

"You say that now," Shepard said sourly. She contemplated Garrus. "I should order you back to the Normandy right now," she "Bring in Massani or Goto instead."

"Are you going to?" Garrus challenged her.

Neither of them was as good at high-powered precision ops as he was, and she knew it. If possible, Shepard's expression soured still further. "Crap. No. But damn it, Vakarian, watch your ass. You are not expendable."

"Well. Not yet anyway." Garrus murmured. Shepard glared at him and stopped at the taxi stand. She keyed a message into her omni-tool, folded her arms, and leaned back on her left leg, scowling.

"Damn, I'd hate to be those mercs," Taylor muttered after a moment of awkward silence. "Krios, either."

"Garrus essential to ground operations," Mordin reasoned. "Stability, flexibility. Now also liability." He breathed in, eyeing Shepard. "Still. Has a point. No more than you, Commander. Perhaps better to outsource operation. Entrust command to team member off mercenary ladar."

"Yeah, the problem with that is that the team members trained to head up operations have both been seen with us too," Shepard snarled. "Even if it didn't shake up the op enough someone got killed anyway, I'm not sure how much safer Taylor or Lawson would actually be."

Taylor smiled, but shook his head. "I'm good, but I can't do what you do, Commander. I'm no Miranda, either. I ran squads of ordinary soldiers, back in the day, but this is on a whole other level."

"Everyone's got to grow sometime, Mr. Taylor," Shepard said, looking at the skyline. She jerked her head, and all of them straightened as a skycar sedan flew into the dock. "For now you've got the pleasure of our company."

Seryna's skycar was sleek and unobtrusive, gun-metal gray under the streetlight with shielded windows. It looked like she'd worked in security. When Seryna pulled up by the curb, she was as casual about inviting them in as if this was an ordinary rideshare. Shepard took shotgun while Garrus, Taylor, the professor, and Samara crowded into the back. The professor and Taylor both looked as uncomfortable as Garrus felt, but Samara's face was as serene as if a salarian doctor hadn't been half-sitting in her lap, his gun pressing into her armor.

The radio was silent, and as they flew, Seryna gave them the rundown. "The towers are heavily guarded, and you'll find more resistance closer to the penthouse. So, this assassin—planning to stop him?"

"I haven't decided yet," Shepard said from the front seat. "I just need to make sure he survives."

Seryna hummed, but didn't venture an opinion. She nodded out the window at a brightly lit pair of buildings, sleek constructions of glass and chrome. Garrus saw a crane hanging over the half-finished skyscraper. "There they are: the Dantius Towers. You'll have to get up to the second tower and cross the bridge to the penthouse," Seryna told them, nodding at the overhead bridge that connected the two towers. Eventually it would be enclosed, but right now it was open to the air, and Garrus's visor picked up rebar and cement blocks stacked across it. "Her mercs will fight you every step, but it's your best chance."

"Why don't we just save time and take the shuttle up?" Shepard asked. She sounded annoyed, and she shot a look over her shoulder at Taylor, as if to say, Didn't I tell you?

Nothing's ever easy.

Seryna eyed Shepard, amused. "She's got mercs with rockets just waiting for you to try. You'd get maybe halfway up before they shot you down. Besides, your assassin won't go in that way. Best to go in low."

"Then set us down," Shepard told her.

"Hold on!" Seryna cried. She exited the traffic stream to head for the no-landing zone right in front of Nassana's building. Lights flashed in the glass windows above. Seryna was nervous. Her left hand drifted down below the seat. Probably has a pistol there, Garrus reflected. Spotlights passed over the pavement. Garrus winced against the beam.

"Don't linger too long," Seryna instructed them, opening the doors. The five of them piled out. Seryna closed the doors right away, but before she flew off, she lowered a window. "Good luck, Shepard," she said. Then she pulled hard on the controls, pushed her foot down to the floor, and the skycar rocketed away.

"Guess Nassana's not the friendliest ex-boss," Taylor observed.

"No kidding," Shepard said. "Look out!" She drew her Locust, and Garrus turned to see two FENRIS mechs barreling out of the entrance toward them. "If we've got their attention, let's keep it," she muttered, and opened fire.

The glass doors of Dantius Tower Two shattered. Garrus moved his omni-tool with Shepard's, and both FENRIS mechs went up in an explosion of sparks, still skidding forward with the force of their momentum. Three Eclipse mercs ran out of the hallway. As soon as they raised their weapons, Samara and Taylor threw up barriers to provide temporary cover. Garrus fired with Mordin and Shepard, and the Eclipse fell to the ground.

Shepard signaled for Samara to take point and move forward, and they followed her into the building, moving single file to decrease the size of the target until they were in cover. Then they fanned out to cover the lobby.

Garrus didn't like the look of the place. There were smears of blood on the smooth, stone floor. Two uniformed corpses up against the walls, full of bullet holes. No weapons, no armor. These were civilians. It put a sour taste in his mouth. "The assassin or Nassana's mercs?" Shepard asked.

"If Thane Krios has done this, someday I may have to kill him," Samara said coolly.

"Sloppy. Wasteful," Mordin remarked with distaste. "Too much collateral damage. Amateur. Not work of accomplished assassin."

They crossed the lobby to the elevator. Granted, they'd started things off on the wrong foot with his news about the merc earlier today, but Garrus was still fairly certain their missions weren't usually this depressing until later. There was another body by the elevator doors—salarian, sitting in a pool of green blood and clutching a nasty stomach wound. But Garrus's visor tagged him hot—and as they neared, his eyelids pulled back. ". . . help," he whispered.

"He's still alive!" Garrus cried, but Shepard had already dropped to her knees beside the man. Garrus took up position at her back, watching the way they had come, the outlet to the stairs with Taylor and Samara.

Mordin knelt beside Shepard, already dialing the paramedics and pulling up a medi-gel application. "I can't feel my legs!" the salarian told them. "My chest is killing me!"

Shepard moved aside to let Mordin work. "Who did this to you? And why?"

The salarian stared past her. He wasn't seeing her. "We're just night workers," he said. "Nassana sent them after us. She sent the mechs to round us up, but we didn't hear. They just started shooting!"

"They just attacked you?" Shepard demanded.

She'd heard someone was planning an attack, and paranoid as she was, she'd just shut the building down and ordered her mercs to shoot everyone in the building. It was crazy, selfishness so extreme you could only call it evil. "We were too slow," the salarian said. His eyes moved toward the other bodies in the room, and he shuddered, winced, and coughed. "It was horrible! Everyone . . . screaming. The mercs said there was no time. Nassana wanted us out of the way, immediately." He was shaking now, seizing up. "Then—the dogs!" he burst out into another coughing fit. It was wet and violent. There was blood on his hand, more blood gushing from his stomach wound.

"Lie still," Mordin told him. "Can't help them. Can survive to remember them later. Let medi-gel coagulate the wound. Wait for paramedics. Live."

The salarian looked at the professor then. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Take your time," Shepard cautioned the salarian. "Just focus on breathing."

The salarian shook his head. "I'll be fine. Find the other workers. Help them."

Shepard nodded. "Why would Nassana kill her own workers?"

It was a rhetorical question, but the worker answered anyway. "To her we're expendable. But I didn't realize she was that ruthless. My friends, coworkers, slaughtered! They were jumping off ledges to escape the dogs!"

"Any idea how many mercs Nassana's got up there?" Taylor asked.

"A lot," the salarian told them. "Dozens of them are wandering around here all day. You'll find more of them the further up you go."

"We need to get up to the penthouse," Shepard explained. "Any suggestions?"

The salarian gestured at the elevator next to him. "Take the elevator to the upper floors. The bridge between the two towers isn't finished, but if you're careful—"he broke off, uncertain. "Watch out for the mercs," he warned. "They're everywhere."

"Don't worry. We can handle them," Garrus promised. "And if any of your friends are still alive, we'll do what we can for them."

"Stay here until the paramedics arrive," Shepard told him. "You should be safe. We're going to keep Nassana's guards plenty busy."

The salarian reached out for her and Mordin. They took his hands, clasping them for a moment before letting go. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

Shepard and the professor stood, and the five of them got on the elevator. Shepard's eyes were blazing. "All right. I've decided. If the cops aren't here already, that means she's either completely within her rights to do this or she's bought them out. It's useless handing her over. If Thane gets to Nassana, we're not stopping him."

"Indeed," Samara agreed. "Were I not bound to you, my code would instruct me to kill her as well. These workers must have justice."

"This tower's unfinished," Shepard warned them. "Stay away from ledges and windows, but don't be afraid to use them and any building materials lying around against the enemy." The elevator opened. "Let's move."

The building certainly was unfinished, Garrus thought as they got off the elevator. Panes of glass had been installed here and there, but much of the floor was open. Railings that would provide a picturesque, open floor had yet to be installed, leaving dangerous ledges on several sides—but the railings they would eventually install were piled in heaps around the floor. They would make good cover, and they'd need it—he could already hear the mechanical legs of the FENRIS mechs pumping, drawn to the chime of the elevator like an alarm. Nassana's hired guards wouldn't be far behind.

"Samara, I want you take point with Jacob," Shepard said hastily to their new recruit, signaling at the same time to show Samara what she meant. "Mordin'll back you up; Garrus will take them out at range from the rear. I'm going to—" she gestured at a corridor leading off to an office block to indicate she'd flank and faded out under her tactical cloak.

"Cloaking technology. How do we track her?" Samara asked over the radio, moving forward to take up position.

"I'll have her on infrared at all times," Garrus told her. "And you'll hear her. Eclipse mostly use shotguns, pistols—and those rockets Seryna told us about. Shepard'll use her rifle on the flank, the Locust when she wants to draw attention or needs to thin thick ranks, and you can't miss that sound. Keep an eye on me or follow Taylor. You'll get it."

He'd climbed up on a pile of stone, flat at the top. Prone both for steadier aim and to attract less attention, he waited for the enemy.

He caught one of the FENRIS mechs right off. Mordin opened fire on the other, but Samara and Jacob were already focused on the mercs pressing down the hall. These weren't the Eclipse sisters they'd seen down by the commercial spaceport, asari and human women, but more like Enyala's quasi-military force by the private docks. Men and women, and his visor was picking up a lot of tech and more than one mech to supplement the guns.

He heard a rifle shot in the other room, and Samara's biotics flared. A human engineer was caught up in a nimbus of blue energy. Samara levitated him, screaming and kicking helplessly, right off one of the ledges, while Jacob fired twice at an asari—once to disable her barriers and once to take her down. Garrus found an armored salarian setting up a tech attack behind a pillar. "Mordin. Engineer at two o'clock." Then he fired at a charging human biotic.

It was work until Shepard broke through on the other side of the column, mercs on mercs on mechs. When she did break through behind them, suddenly it was a walk in the park. She took down three before they realized what was happening, and then they couldn't adjust fast enough. The rest of the vanguard was down in less than ten seconds.

Garrus hopped down from the marble blocks and walked with Samara, Jacob, and Mordin through the carnage to join Shepard on the other side. "Well. I think we got their attention," he said.

The night air from the open windows got progressively colder as they climbed Nassana Dantius's unfinished tower. The keen of the wind was a melancholy and eerie sound behind the usual gunfire and battle cries. Something lonely about a skyscraper at night, no matter how many people there are shooting at you.

Garrus didn't bother making a huge target of himself—the layout of the building, the corridors that crossed into one another and the ledges on every side meant that he could stay out of the mercs' initial sightlines and still take out as many as Samara and Jacob put together from their place in the thick of the action, but around the third time Shepard got around the mercs and started wreaking havoc, some asari with half a brain recognized the tactic, if they didn't catch sight of Shepard. "Hang on!" she cried to her buddies. "Check the human biotic! These are the same bastards that hit Enyala and Wasea's crews by the docks!"

In a second, the asari didn't have a head, but as her corpse stained the concrete violet, the man next to her rolled behind a column, yelling, "We've got Archangel's team here! Do you copy? It's Archangel! Contain the biotics, but watch for the snipers! They're the ones that'll blow your ass to hell!"

An incendiary shot around the corner from Mordin's omni-tool, and the merc's warning died off in a scream. "Thought I was harmless, did you?" the professor called.

Samara vaulted some rebar and shot him. "Find peace in the embrace of the goddess."

Five LOKI mechs rounded the corner then, too far apart for the justicar to attack at once, but one sparked and rounded on the others. "New targeting orders acknowledged," it said.

Garrus, Samara, and Jacob scrapped their new friend with the others. "Shit! They're tearing us apart!" someone yelled. Garrus heard the wet sound of a rifle shot tearing through a throat and a thud as another body hit the floor.

They regrouped around Shepard again, and Samara turned to Garrus. "I feel as though I have come in the middle of something," she observed. "An Eclipse sister attempts to murder you this morning, and now these mercenaries seem more familiar with 'Archangel' than with Commander Shepard. I wish no details, but it is wise to be aware of all of our enemies."

She has understatement down to an art form, Garrus thought. The accusation in her even tone was so slight he could barely make it out.

"Shepard found me at the end of a bit of a campaign against the major Terminus mercenary groups," Garrus admitted. "It's a long story, but to save on time, I'm not sure how many of them know who she is, but since I got this—"he gestured at his face, "they all know who I am, and they really hate me. It wouldn't have been a problem, but coincidentally, our operations have come into conflict with the major merc groups more than once, and now we're on Illium, it's started to catch up."

"You ran a campaign against the major mercenary groups in the Terminus? Alone?" Samara asked. Again, the subtlety is astounding. 'Are you a total idiot, just lying, or should I be extremely impressed?' all at once.

Probably the idiot, Samara.

Garrus sighed. "Not alone. And things didn't start out that way, but if you don't mind, I'd prefer not to go into the details either."

"All you need to know is that when we walked in here, these guys were shooting at us on their orders, and now they personally want to kill us," Shepard said irritably. "We've lost the element of surprise, and they know at least some of our tactics. You and Mordin will have an advantage; they haven't seen you guys before."

"They know you, it seems, but they fear you as well," Samara noted. "And both fear and anger may lead the enemy to make mistakes."

"Always a gamble: do they hate us in a way that will screw them up or in a way that they'll push through everything and kill us anyway?" Garrus mused. "I hate trying to calculate just how much I've pissed someone off."

"Ah, you're worth it," Taylor told him. "Barely, but you are."

"Thanks. That's always nice to hear."

Shepard gave them the move-out. They went carefully, checking in empty offices and closets for both surviving workers and for ambushes as they went. When they encountered the next merc patrol, though, they were talking. Shepard signaled for quiet.

"Hey, I think he went in here," someone was saying.

"Well, go get him."

"You go!"

"Get your ass in there. Nassana's not paying you to stand around," the officer demanded.

"Fine, but I . . ." the voice faded away, then stopped. Garrus and the others looked at one another as they heard the sound of a silenced gunshot.

"He's here! Come on!" Shepard cried before the mercs could team up on their guy. They ran ahead. There were at least six in the room, and Garrus saw more coming down the hall.

Jacob and Samara went left, throwing a wall of biotic energy in front of them that made Garrus lose focus for a half a second, thinking of other battles where one of the only salarian biotics in the galaxy had done something similar all on his own. The professor instinctively used it like they had back then, too, firing from behind it at the enemy. As one of the Eclipse mercs fell off the floor stories below, Garrus snapped back to the present. Running to a column for cover, he opened fire with the Vindicator to cover the movement—saw one human's shields go down. Mordin took advantage at once.

The enemy was in chaos—some of them trying to chase after Krios, some focused on Garrus, some trying to find Shepard as a Mantis shot from the right flank shattered the skull of an asari whose shields Garrus had just taken out.

"Headshot!" Mordin complimented her, and instinctively dodged as his voice drew more attention to him from the people most worried about the deadly formation of two biotics and a salarian tech bearing down on them. A tendril of biotic energy lashed out, and the man who had fired hurtled down to the lobby below.

"Gravity's one mean mother!" Jacob observed, but he was sweating. He just couldn't keep up with Samara. He signaled her, and fell back with Mordin as she provided the cover fire for their retreat. Once the two of them were safely stationed behind a pillar, he let loose his biotics with a sigh of relief, but Samara was just getting started. Glowing like a star, with no gestures, no clear concentration of biotic energy anywhere the enemy could target to disable her, she walked ahead, firing left and right like a vision of her goddess in her most deadly aspect. The mercs were terrified of her, tripping over themselves to get away—but Garrus's visor tracked Samara's barriers dropping.

She was providing the focal point, taking the brunt of the fire, but it was a diversion to allow the rest of them to take the enemy out quickly. The thing about your diversion is not to let it divert you. As Shepard's rifle rang out on the flank again, Garrus found another merc in his crosshairs, fired. Got another, fired. Then Mordin joined the crossfire with his Tempest, the gun he'd taken a liking to on Haestrom, and then they'd cleared the floor.

Garrus strode forward as Samara closed her eyes and let her biotics die away. "Impressive," he said.

"I have had centuries to perfect my technique," Samara said. "Yet I confess it has been some time since I have been in a battle of this scale. Where is Thane Krios?"

She directed her question to Shepard, who'd come back from the other hall. Shepard shook her head. "Gone," she said, frustrated. "Seryna called it. He's using our firefights to get closer to Nassana. We have to keep moving."

"Professor!" Taylor called. He'd been walking the perimeter, making sure they were clear.

Mordin walked over to meet him. Taylor was holding a sniper rifle, Garrus saw. "What do you think?" He asked Mordin.

Garrus looked at the weapon. Light and streamlined. "Let me see that," he said. Taylor handed it over.

Garrus weighed it in his arms, checked the scope, the feel. "Rosenkov Materials. Large magazine—is that semi-automatic fire?"

"New toy, Garrus?" Shepard asked.

He shook his head. "Not for me. To enable the rapid fire and the light weight, they have to have sacrificed some of the power. I prefer to maximize the damage but minimize the number of shots. Makes for cleaner kills. Faster, too. This would be great at stripping biotic barriers, though. Could be an advantage here."

He handed it to Shepard. She lifted it, jostled it in her arms, made a face, and then gave it back to Jacob. "Rosenkov Materials makes quality hardware. Take it. Requisition a couple more. Massani might like it more." She tilted her head. "Thane might like it." She grabbed her pistol then and walked across the hall. "Anyone wondering why this door's locked?" she asked casually, nodding at the sealed room they'd all been ignoring. She brought up her omni-tool, and in a moment she'd hacked the access panel.

The door slid open with a hiss, and five terrified salarians held up their hands. "Please, don't kill us!" one begged. "We'll go! We'll go!"

Another blinked, lowering his hands. "Hey, look! They're not Eclipse! You're here to help us, right?"

Shepard gestured for them to lower their weapons, lowering her own at the same time. "It's one reason I'm here. Come on out. It's safe enough."

The salarian who had spoken before, a thin male in a salmon-colored shirt, pressed his hands together and bowed. "Thank you. We are in your debt." Despite that, none of them moved to leave the room. Two of the salarians were still clutching one another and shuddering in the back. Their eyes kept flicking toward Taylor, Samara—and Garrus's scars. He tipped them an ironic wave. They flinched.

Shepard shot him a glare. "Maybe you can help me," she told the salarians. "I'm looking for someone. Not a merc. He's on his own."

The first salarian that had spoken—scales pitted from age, dressed in dark blue, looked thoughtful. "Well, whoever sealed us in here—"

Pink Shirt, more enthusiastic than his friend, interrupted. "When he found us, I thought we were dead. But he just closed the door and locked us in."

"Not sloppy after all," Garrus observed. "Sounds like our assassin was trying to keep them safe."

"Assassin?" one of the salarians in the back repeated.

"Here for Nassana, I bet," Pink Shirt said, an edge of anger to his voice. "She's got it coming. You treat people like this, it always comes back to bite you in the ass."

"Nassana's not exactly your favorite person?" Shepard guessed.

Blue shirt made a face. "She's a . . . hard woman to work for."

"That's an understatement," scoffed Pink Shirt. "She works us long hours, no overtime, and this is what you get in payment." He gestured violently at his friends, shuddering in storage, at the mercs outside ordered to kill on sight.

"She's unpleasant, to say the least," Blue Shirt concluded.

Shepard folded her arms. "Why not just quit?"

She had a point, Garrus thought. It sounded like people knew Nassana's reputation. Why had her workers stuck around for her to snap?

But the salarians were frowning and muttering. "We would if we could," one said.

"What's stopping you?" Shepard demanded.

"Our contract," he answered. "We're stuck until the job's done. Quitting for any reason can be hazardous to your health."

Pink Shirt shrugged. "We hear that anyone that leaves early tends to disappear. Probably just a rumor."

Garrus snorted. Maybe not. Blue Shirt almost smiled at him. "But who wants to find out for sure?"

Shepard straightened. "How many workers were in the tower? Are there many more of you?"

Pink Shirt reached out to grip his friend's arm. "Not alive," he said grimly. "We were lucky."

"Well, some got out before the dogs were sent in," Blue Shirt said. He seemed to be the optimist of the group, Garrus noted. It's sad how rarely they're right. "Maybe a few are hiding somewhere."

"If there are more, we will find them and get them to safety," Samara said.

"Fastest way to end this is to get to Nassana," Shepard told her. "What's the quickest way to the penthouse?"

"Cargo elevator is the only way up right now," Pink Shirt told them, gesturing out toward the hall.

"They're still working up top," Blue Shirt added. "Watch your step. Some of the walls aren't in, and it's a long way down."

"Cold, too. I hate working up there," a salarian in the back muttered.

Shepard started to turn, then paused. "Did you see the guy who locked you in? Do you know where he might have gone?" she asked.

Pink Shirt shook his head. "He's no salarian, I can tell you that. But I have no idea where he went. Sorry. If he's after Nassana, he'll be heading to the upper levels."

"I wouldn't stay here too long," Garrus told them. "We've cleared the lower floors. It should be safe. Head down."

Blue Shirt nodded appreciatively. "I was just thinking the same thing." He waved his arm at his coworkers. "Let's go, everybody!"

Garrus and the others stood aside to let the salarians file past, but Pink Shirt stopped in the doorway. He looked hard at Shepard. "Thank you," he said again. "Tell your assassin to aim for her head, 'cause she doesn't have a heart!"

"Get moving!" one of his coworkers called.

The salarians melted away into the shadows of the tower. Shepard stood looking at where they had gone. "And the award for lamest zinger of the night goes to—"she said under her breath.

Garrus chuckled. "Give him a break. He's been through a lot."

Shepard looked across at him. "Grunt could do better. Massani could," as if that settled things.

"Every moment we waste is another Thane Krios gets ahead of us, or another moment Nassana's mercenaries could find more workers," Samara chided them.

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "Not sure about Samara," she noted.

The cargo elevator the salarians had mentioned was just around the corner. In contrast to most of this tower, this room looked finished. The windows had all been put in, the stone floor and chrome elevator doors gleamed. The floor was open. Too open. "We're a little exposed out here," Garrus noted as Shepard approached the call button. "Especially if anyone's in that elevator."

"I was just thinking the same thing myself, Garrus," Shepard said. She punched the button.

"Be on the safe side," Taylor advised. "We need cover."

"Be my guest." Shepard gestured to the decorative bars that had already been installed all around the mezzanine, places people could stop and have drinks over break. As the light on the elevator traveled down to their floor, she took Samara to the right flank, gestured for Garrus to take the left, and Taylor and Mordin to face the elevator directly, and they took up their positions just as the elevator chimed.

"Mezzanine," a VI announced coolly. "Have a pleasant stay."

The elevator opened, revealing the mercs Garrus had expected—three of them.

He hadn't expected one of them to be a krogan. Fire arced out of the elevator from the two supporting engineers on his flank—a salarian and a human female. Garrus ducked as the heat sizzled over the top of his shields, but using his visor to calculate the trajectory, still sent an overload program back to hit on an engineer's shields before they could completely escape the kill box. Taylor and Solus concentrated fire on the krogan, but the salarian engineer was headed right at Garrus, firing off shots from his pistol.

Garrus took two hits on his patched shields and armor before he closed with the little bastard. He saw the salarian's expression shift from determination to surprised panic, then Garrus seized him by the front of his armor, knocked his pistol away with his own gun, tossed him against the wall to take better aim, and fired. Garrus took momentary note of the stain. They're going to have to bring the decorator back in here.

Then he turned to check the krogan—as Taylor flew back from a concussive blast and fell to the ground and Mordin yanked his leg to pull him back into cover. "Krogan charging!" he yelled.

Garrus took aim and fired three bursts directly at the base of the krogan's neck. His shields were strong enough it scarcely took them down, but like Garrus had hoped, it got the guy's attention. "How much are they paying you for the human?" Garrus called. "How much is it for me?"

The krogan's yellow eyes gleamed, and Garrus knew that he'd guessed right. This guy wasn't Eclipse, he was a bounty hunter—extra muscle this cell had hired to hit Nassana's enemies, or theirs. "Archangel," the krogan rumbled, turning around. "Could retire off your bounty, asshole. Time to die."

But behind him, Shepard and Samara had finished their engineer. The krogan yelled as his body was caught up in a full warp field, and behind him, flames licked up the field. His armor melted and so did his head. His body tried to keep him going, but that just kept him conscious. "Should've retired early," Shepard said, strolling around to face him as he looked at her with uncomprehending, agonized eyes. She fired eight bullets from her Locust into the fused remnants of his face, and he fell down.

She looked at Garrus. "You saw we were good across the room?" she challenged him.

"Like it was going to take you and Samara more than fifteen seconds to deal with one engineer at close quarters? I saw."

Shepard still glared at him. "You just had to declare war on half the Terminus," she muttered.

"I saved the other half for you."

Shepard shoved him on her way to the elevator. Garrus grinned and followed her, falling in step beside Taylor and Solus. Taylor had a strange look on his face. Garrus glanced at him. "Something on your mind?"

Taylor held up his hands. "Nothing. Nothing."

The five of them stepped into the elevator. Shepard pressed the button on the console marked "Bridge Level," the doors shut, and the elevator began moving swiftly upward.

When the doors opened, Shepard motioned for silence again. A merc was talking into a radio, oblivious to their arrival. Shepard signaled for them to surround him, weapons out. Careful, she warned.

He was standing around the corner at a vista window, looking down at the pavement, stories below. Human. Armored. Looked like an officer.

"I haven't heard from teams four or five," the merc said to his team. "Don't worry. My team's always ready to go." He listened for a moment. "I don't know where he is. Not yet. Don't worry about it." He waited, then annoyed, said, "We don't need any reinforcements. I'll take care of it. It's under control. I'll go down there myself."

Shepard waited for him to sign off, waited for him to clip the radio to his belt. They didn't want those reinforcements if they could help it. "Turn around very slowly," she said.

"Damn it," the mercenary swore, raising his hands. He turned around to look straight down the barrels of three pistols, an assault rifle, and a shotgun.

"Tell me where the assassin was last spotted and I might let you live," Shepard told him.

The merc crossed his arms. He was a professional, you could tell that much. Amateurs couldn't stare down the barrel of a gun with as much annoyance as this guy was. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be wasting my time talking to you. What are you idiots doing here, anyway? We're not working drugs or sabotage here. We've got a legitimate protection contract!"

You had to admire the guy, Garrus thought, asking questions in his situation. Shepard just jerked her head at the window. "You've got two ways down: express or coach. Your choice."

"Look, lady, even if I knew where he was, I wouldn't tell you. You've been killing our guys all over Nos Astra!" the merc snapped.

Shepard lowered her gun. "Not the answer I was looking for," she said. She pressed her forearm across the mercenary's chest, pushing him back into the picture window behind him. Garrus heard it creak.

"I've got nothing more to say to you," the mercenary said, though Garrus noted he was speaking faster now. "If you shoot me, my team's right through there. They'll be all over you."

"We've come this far," Shepard told him. "You think they'll stop us?" She pushed down a little harder, and behind the mercenary's shoulder guard, small fractures appeared in the glass. "Is a little information really worth dying over? Is Nassana?"

The mercenary paled, gulped. "Okay, look," he said. "Last I heard, the assassin was down on the mezzanine, but the teams on the bridge think they might've spotted him. Nobody knows for sure."

Garrus saw Shepard thinking. It wasn't any more than they'd known already. This guy was useless—but they didn't have to kill him. She lowered her arm and stepped back, wiping her gloved hand on her leg armor. "Get out of here," she told him.

The merc raised his hands again. "I'm going." Samara and Taylor followed him with their weapons until he got onto the elevator and they saw the floor count going down.

"He owes you one," Garrus said. "Anybody else would've killed him."

Shepard's gaze wandered over the hard faces of the others—Taylor, Solus, Samara, none of them sure she'd done the right thing letting this one guy live to kill for somebody else some other day. Finally, she looked back at Garrus. Her shoulders drooped, and her face was bleak. "I'm tired, Garrus," she said simply. In those three words, Garrus heard it all. Her irritation at how Archangel still dogged them, the disgust at all the innocents that had died here tonight, the powerful, crazy CEO who had given the order and the mercs that had carried it out, the toll killing always took on her, her need to save someone else—even someone that didn't deserve it, her hope that the merc would make her right and her despair that he wouldn't.

He wondered when Shepard had last taken a shore leave.

Without planning it, he brought his hand up to clasp her shoulder. She held his gaze for about two seconds, let him comfort her just that long before breaking away. "Let's find Thane and get the hell out of this place."


A/N: I think Garrus probably editorialized what happened at the café when he told Shepard about it. Also think doing that might come back to bite him. In a court of law, he couldn't pass off what happened as self-defense. He's trying to transition back into Garrus Vakarian, but Archangel isn't quite dead yet, among the mercs of the Terminus or in him.

Leave a review if you've got something to say,

LMS