The music was almost deafening inside the tiny storage room. Every time the bass kicked in it vibrated the thin metal of the workbench, sometimes even knocking a few datapads to the ground. The boxes rattled on their shelves and the walls shuttered. Even the very dust in the air seemed to shake.

Quintin Fedorian was in his element.

He hummed and bobbed his head along to the ear-splitting music as he mostly ignored the datapads piled in front of him and the hundreds of boxes lining the shelves of the small room. He kept taking frequent breaks to just close his eyes and sway along.

'Flex that beat-! Feel the heat-!'

He sighed wistfully. Such wise words…!

He didn't care what anyone said, Pulse85 was an amazing group. Some have argued their later albums sounded dated and didn't keep up with the current scene but that was pure elitism. As far as he was concerned, club music transcended fads. It was timeless. And there wasn't a band he didn't like.

…Except for Gravi-T. Gravi-T was terrible and shouldn't even be labeled as music.

The song had started to fade out, teasing the room with the promise of blissful silence. Quintin sighed and poked at the work on the desk that certainly wouldn't complete itself. To say mindless busywork wasn't his forte would be the understatement of the century. But unfortunately, it had to be done. He leaned over, picked up one of the datapads, and tried to concentrate.

Almost immediately another song began, as loud and obnoxious as its predecessor.

'OOOH AHHH-! YOUR LOVE - YOUR LOVE - TAKES ME HIGH-E-E-E-R-!'

Quintin shot up, the datapad clattering noisily off the desk. Oh, yeeees!

A few taps on his tool and volume was raised even higher. The desk threatened to disintegrate under the vibrations. He left the quivering datapads abandoned on the floor as he gyrated in his seat and pumped his fists in the air one after the other.

Hyperwave was his current favorite and with their new album out, he'd had it on repeat for weeks. Especially this song. He must have already listened to it a million times and it still never got old - not even after he set it as his morning alarm.

As the chorus kicked in, he really got into it, threatening to crush the datapads that had fallen underneath his feet. He chuckled to himself. It was a good thing Vakarian wasn't here, he would be so-

Oh!

That's right. He had suddenly bolted out the door right in the middle of work without a word.

Mind you, it wasn't entirely out of character to have Vakarian suddenly pick up and immediately scurry off to attend to some other task or another. And Quintin learned the hard way that to ask why only slowed him down and made him even more irritable. Now that he thought about it, Vakarian did seem especially stressed out today. But again, that wasn't out of the ordinary. It was hard to tell when something was actually serious - he was always wound up.

Quintin's mandibles twitched thoughtfully. This time was definitely more abrupt than usual. He was...okay, right? Surely. He probably just forgot something...or got an important message or needed a quick word with Faldos or...

He checked the time. No, he definitely would've been back by now if that was it. How odd. He had no idea where he could've gone.

Quintin's mandibles suddenly flicked into a sly smile. Well...he had one guess…!

He sat up and opened his omni-tool. Only one way to find out.

His finger grazed over theVakarian's contact, passing over the 'message' tab and going straight to 'call'. He never had the patience for typing. He also entered the emergency code so it would connect automatically. It was just easier that way.

The comm crackled to life. "Uh, helllooo? Are you there?!" he asked.

The other line buzzed noisily as it established connection. At first, there was nothing but an odd rushing sound (Wind? Was he outside?). "...Fedorian - I'm sorry, I -"

"For what?" Quintin intoned innocently, "Helping me organize...?"

"I...what? No!" Vakarian sounded flustered and irritated. As usual. "For just...for bailing on you - "

"Why...I don't know what you're talking about!" Quintin couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. "You were here with me all day...!"

"What? No, I…" There was a brief silence. He could practically hear Vakarian mull over the implication of his words. He spoke again, his voice now sheepish and muted. "...Thanks, Fedorian. Really."

The chair squeaked as Quintin leaned back, resting his arms behind his head and feeling more than a little self-satisfied. "You're weeeelcome…!"

Admittedly, it was a little concerning watching Vakarian become more and more distracted in these past few months. This was a man who would forgo sleep most nights if it meant his work was completed faster. Who lived and breathed his duties, who would sacrifice anything to inch that much higher on the proverbial social ladder. Suffice to say, his complete change in attitude was as baffling as it was troubling. But once Quintin found out the real reason for this sudden lapse in judgment, naturally he would cover for him as long as he needed. It was the least he could do. Vakarian deserved it.

"Oh - wait - !" Quintin sat up, trilling in excitement, "Is she there right now? Can I say hi? Please?"

The line had already disconnected. Damn! So mean!

Quintin steepled his fingers, mind racing. Who was she!? Who could possibly cause Vakarian to act like this? She must be spectacular! A knock-out! Truly one of a kind. The curiosity was almost too much to bear.

He was more than tempted to download the roster of all five forts and scour them until he had enough clues for a process of elimination. How did they meet? What was it about her that finally made him open up? He simply had to know.

Vakarian had such a hard time forming personal connections that the fact that he had managed to find a romantic partner on his own was no small feat. Quintin swelled with pride. Vakarian really had come far from his academy days, where he didn't have a single friend other than Quintin himself!

It wasn't entirely his fault. Back at Ortus the other students usually assumed his lack of recreation and generally off-putting nature was some sort of superiority complex. That as the top of his class, he must have felt everyone else was beneath him. So they tended to stay away, writing him off as some smug know-it-all. If they had just talked to him it would've been fine! But kids could be so judgemental.

On more than one occasion someone had pulled Quintin aside, throwing a hand out dismissively in Vakarians direction and asking borderline offensive questions. Why do you hang out with him? He's a neurotic little kiss-ass who doesn't care about anything but his own career! He'd only use you for your connections. He's a weird, conceited, uptight little jerk!

It was so cruel and Quintin always answered without hiding his indignation.

Because he's my friend!

Sure, Vakarian could be a little...standoff-ish (he was a man of few words!) and he was overly concerned about rules and regulations (what turian wasn't?), and his overbearing sense of right and wrong was borderline uncomfortable and often brought up at inappropriate times (all you ask him is how he was doing and the next thing you know he's telling you about how he saw no less than three transgressions in the span of an hour and he was already planning on reporting them to the nearest sargeant) but other than that he was just as approachable as the next guy!

He was loyal! And could actually be very kind! And he wanted to genuinely serve the Hierarchy, not because of politics but because he wanted to help people! It's just that he knew what he was good at and what he wasn't good at and he liked to cultivate an environment where he was always in control, leaving very little room for growth. And everyone else. Could you really blame him?

Luckily, Vakarian never seemed to be bothered by any of those dumb rumors. He had a strong sense of self that Quintin found himself admiring. He knew who he was and what he wanted and he didn't care what anyone else thought.

Unlike me.

Quintin frowned, staring at the pile of work on the desk, a new song blaring on his omni-tool. He suddenly didn't feel much like dancing.

Unfortunately, he cared very much about what people thought of him and expectations they needed him to live up to. It was all part of growing up in his family. Hell, that was the reason he was so popular at the academy (Well, that and his roguish good looks, his dazzling personality and amazing sense of humor, obviously) They were probably hoping some of that familial influence would benefit them in some way.

His older siblings had already excelled in ways he could only dream of. Top in Basic, top in Academy, every commendation he could think of. And they reminded him of that fact every time they were together. Especially his father. The way he talked about his oldest sister you'd think she was an only child!

He hummed a sour note of irritation. Sorry dad, we can't all be Prima, your true Pride and Joy…! At least he expressed some kind of pride with the other three, Quintin seemed to be nothing but an annoying spec on his radar. He was constantly berating him for his laziness, his lack of drive, the supposed shame he would carry the Fedorian name with if he didn't step it up. Sigh. It wasn't easy being the runt of the litter. But it did have its benefits.

You were easily overlooked. Everything had already been accomplished by your siblings so there was this weird tug-of-war between 'everything's already been done so don't even try' and 'if you don't succeed as they have, you'll be the odd one out.' It was exhausting. Oh, to have a simple but respectable role where no one knows who you are and nothing is personally your fault. Leave the heavy lifting to guys like Vakarian.

He does all the work and gets all the glory and you sit nice and comfortable in his shadow. Hell, he would ride his coattails all the way to retirement if he could. That was the plan anyway.

It was already going swimmingly. Vakarian was the reason he was out here, after all. Truly the opportunity of a lifetime, screwing around in the desert with General Has-been but, hey, if it all went according to plan they could skip the formalities and shoot straight to the top...in a manner of speaking. The Commadant had been pretty vague about what that entailed, promising only that it could potentially open a lot of doors if he were to accept the role of Executive Officer of Fort Who-cares. Not very exciting, but Vakarian had gone for it and thus, so did he.

Interestingly enough, after Artanus had given Vakarian his role, her own guard had taken Quintin aside. She hadn't said much, the usual boring protocol of following the chain of command, maintaining the dignity of the Hierarchy or whatever, and finally 'keep an eye on him.'

At first, he thought she meant Vakarian. It had made sense, Vakarian was extremely capable but also not very experienced and could get a little too wrapped up in his work. Quintin, unfortunately, knew all about the extreme tediousness of protocol and niceties so obviously he needed his help to keep him on track. It was part of their little unofficial arrangement after all.

But no. She had actually meant General Faldos.

What a baffling concept. 'Keep an eye on him.' The General…!

Sure, he had heard the…'rumor' about Faldos. Pretty nasty work...it gave him a chill every time he thought about it. But, damn, security detail of The Pride of Palaven? And what exactly was he supposed to do? Tattle on him every time he lost his temper? The general was a terrible man who flew into a rage at every supposed slight against him and he made it no secret that wasn't fond of Quentin in the slightest. Unlike Vakarian who he practically treated as a son. Well, a son that he...still kind of hated just less so. But still, if he had done half the stuff Vakarian had pulled in these last couple of months Faldos would've used his freaky biotics to cave his skull in. Quintin spent most of his time just trying to stay out of his way and let Vakarian do all the talking. If Faldos wanted to lord over his stupid forts on his empty planet, so be it. Who cares?

But it was apparently his responsibility. He was advised not to tell anyone - not even Vakarian. "This is a big responsibility. Don't fail us." she had said.

He rolled his eyes at the memory. Clearly, just a token gesture to please dad. Bleugh.

The day waned late into night, Quintin knew more so by the number of songs that played than by the time ticking away on his omni-tool. He had gone through at least 5 albums ( a couple repeated a few times) and only managed to finish sorting one box. Well, a box and a half. All in a day's work. He yawned, leaning back in the chair for a full-body stretch. His legs and feet still felt cramped - clearly a three-hour lunch, a four-hour dinner and a fifteen-minute dance break every hour was not enough. He'd keep that in mind for next time.

He thought vaguely of food and sleep as he wandered aimlessly through the corridor toward the kitchenette. He passed by the door to Vakarian's room, shut and silent. Was he in there? He had to be back by now. But wouldn't he have told him? He wouldn't spend all night out again.

Surely.

Quintin hummed nervously. He found himself walking past the kitchenette, and down the narrow hall toward the main entrance. Maybe he was just outside doing...something.

The main door let out a sharp, metallic groan as it opened to the cool night. Quintin blinked out at the empty landscape, black outside the harsh floodlights that lit up the vicinity around the fort.

Or maybe he wasn't. Oh dear.

Quintin's mandibles twitched anxiously. No, no, no! You can't stay out again! There's only so much I can do! He began to jog around the back, thinking futilely that he was just hanging out by the back by the shipping container. He had to be somewhere around here, right? There's no way…

He popped open his omni-tool, selected the name, then 'call', huffing slightly as he jogged toward the back.

Thankfully Vakarian answered. Not like he had a choice. "What."

"Hey, you're back, right?" Quintin slowed his pace, an ease settling in now that he actually heard Vakarian's voice. "At the fort, I mean?"

"Yes," he responded. Irritable as always. "I'm trying to sleep."

Pheeew…! Quintin's jog turned into a lazy stroll as he relaxed, shaking his head. Of course he wouldn't stay out again. He was in love!...not stupid. "Sorry, I was just worried!"

There was a slight pause. "...I should have told you I was back. I'm sorry. I had a...long day."

"Hey, it's alright!"

"I...really can't thank you enough for what you did for me today. I owe you."

"Nah, I don't mind! It's fun to stick it to Faldos sometimes, right?" Quintin chuckled.

"...Um. Right. Thanks again." Another pause. "...And please stop using the emergency call button."

"Okay, I will...if you tell me what her name is…?"

click

Quintin scrunched his nose plates and shook a fist to the sky. GRRRR! He'd get it out of him one of these days…!

He continued his leisurely stroll around the back, letting his relief and the night air surround him. He was almost halfway around the fort. No sense in going back when it was just as close going forward. The silence and stark contrast of the lights against the backdrop of night was peaceful. He couldn't say he was one for midnight strolls. Was this what Vakarian had to do on his night duty? Pretty boring, but not that bad. Nice, and quiet.

...A little too quiet. He hummed a tune as the shipping container came into view.

"Hmm...hm hm...Oh love! if you cry - I might die-"

Quintin froze. He blinked past the bright lights and into the dark. There was something by the container. A shape leaning against its side shrouded in the dark.

His eyes narrowed and his jaw stiffened. Slowly he reached for the pistol at his side. Well, well, well...desperate, are we?

As his fingers touched the handle, the shape moved, stepping away from the door and giving him a better view of the perpetrator. Turian, female, he couldn't see most of her face, the part he did see looked a little familiar. That plate color, the shape of her mandible, where had he seen-?

OH…!

By the spirits, it was HER!

He panicked, eyes darting from the bright floodlights to the smooth side of the outpost. Damn! Nowhere to hide. He backed up as fast and as silently as he could and squatted down against the wall partially hidden by a smooth column that partially jutted out the side of the fort. She hadn't seemed to notice. Her back was still turned to him and she seemed to just be loitering in front of the container, hands in her pockets and a bag over her shoulder.

Quintin had never been so excited. He craned his neck, desperately trying to make out her features. If he just didn't move, she wouldn't notice him and maybe she'd turn around! He bit back an excited hum. What was she doing here? She must be waiting for Vakarian. Had he lied about going to sleep? Was he gonna meet her here? He'd definitely have to sneak away before then! How funny, didn't he spend the whole day with her? And why was she back here, so close to the weapons container. And what was that bag she was carrying?

Finally, she turned, giving the fort a long, almost apprehensive look, still in the dark, but her features partially outlined by the flood lights. Quintin gasped in excitement as he took it all in. Tall, kind of skinny, and her face was-

Wait.

What?

No…that...couldn't be right…

Quintin blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Maybe her markings were just really subtle. It was dark out. The floodlights were too bright; the contrast was making it hard to tell. They were probably just very light. That had to be it.

Then he noticed her attire. Not a uniform. Not even decent civies. Very shoddy armor. Cracked, torn and...bloodied?

Was she a...local?

NO…!

She was just standing there, shuffling her feet in the dirt as though unsure about something. Her head kept darting around suspiciously, her hands nervously tugging at the bag over her shoulder. After a few moments, she stepped over to the door of the storage container and bent down. Quintin had to squint through the floodlights into the darkness of the shielded container. He saw her subtle quick movements and there was the deep groan of the door as it slowly swung open. Quintin's mouth fell open.

She hacked the lock….!

He slid farther back along the wall, clapping a hand over his mouth. He watched as she gave one last look around, removing her bag from her shoulder. As ducked under the partially opened door, he saw a collapsed rifle strapped to her back. A Phaeston. Like the kind they had in the cache.

So this wasn't even the first time she had done this.

That...lying...sneaky...bare-faced little…!

He almost shook in anger. He had half a mind to confront her right then and there. Tell her to keep her scrawny ass away from Vakarian and scurry back to whatever hole she had crawled out of.

He stood up and took a step toward her, his hand moving toward his gun. He breathed hard, willing himself forward.

...No. Damn it, he couldn't do it.

He slid back down against the wall. He couldn't do that to him. If Vakarian heard he had driven away the only relationship he had in...maybe ever, he would never forgive him. He wouldn't understand. This had to be handled delicately. He needed to sit Vakarian down and explain to him that the woman he loved was actually a rotten con artist who was just using him to steal from their cache. Quintin's head fell into his hands. Spirits! What a mess!

This was not going to be easy and Vakarian was not going to take it well. He would fight it, he would deny it, even if he heard the truth of what Quintin had just seen. No doubt she had already poisoned his mind to the point where he would assume it was a lie. Quintin's stomach sank. Poor guy. He has no idea...

Vakarian was...sensitive. He would never admit it, but it didn't take a lot to make him upset. And beneath his rather thin layer of resolute stoicism was a sea of emotions. He was like...an incredibly flimsy damn. The sturdiness was just an illusion, one leak and the whole thing topples, spilling out from all sides.

One time someone implied he had cheated on a test and he had such a meltdown, Quintin had to physically drag him away from the classroom, kicking and screaming.

Another time his mile run was two seconds over his usual time and he had locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. You could hear the keening through the door.

And spirits forbid you even breathe the word 'separatists' in his presence if you don't want to hear a very angry and borderline weepy rant about it.

And the less said about the Founders Ball the better.

And now...this. Here he was, being taken advantage of by this...mootch.

Quintin hummed a low note of defeat. Noooo…! He had finally found someone! This was supposed to be it! How could she?! He would have offered her the world….!

Quintin sighed, rubbing his crest. No. It needed to be done. He had to be the bad guy and tell him. He wouldn't let anyone hurt his friend, especially not this...this little..! Spirits, this was terrible.

Vakarian was going to be crushed.