Shepard looked up from her desk as knuckles rapped against the door. "Come in." She turned her chair to face Nihlus as the turian entered. "What can I do for you, Mr. Big Bossman?"
He let out a low, rumbling, clicking sound that didn't translate. "You could stop working so hard to be a pain in my ass." After walking a couple of steps into her quarters, he stopped and stood, rigid. His tension vibrated through the room, her skin prickling in response. Nihlus felt like a time bomb, and she couldn't decide the best way to deal with him; work on defusing him or build him to detonation.
Shepard wrinkled her nose and nodded. "Yeah, I probably could, and I might once we reach an understanding." She shifted around to rest both arms on the chair back, regarding him with an even stare.
He bristled, the deep green of his eyes flashing, but some of the tension sloughed away. "Oh? And what understanding is that?"
One corner of her mouth quirked a little. "That I'm not some raw FNG who will follow you around, hanging off your every word and begging you to let me worship at your feet." She grinned when she saw him realize she was teasing.
He chuckled, his broad shoulders dropping visibly, even beneath his armour. "Nor would I expect you to." Flexing his mandibles a little, he ducked his head. "I recommended you because you're a pain in the ass. You don't do what you're told just because it's expected, and you aren't afraid to step out of bounds if the mission requires it." One hand drifted toward the end of the bed. "May I sit?"
Shepard nodded. "Sure, knock yourself out."
In the few strides it took him to cross the floor, she ran a quick inventory, comparing the torin she'd heard so much about to the one she'd met a couple of days before. She tossed out the picture she'd held before she met him; she'd overblown that image into something no one could live up to. As her eyes followed the lines of his famila notas, she saw a softening, not of drive or honor, but something that made the Spectre more . . . human, for lack of a better word. Before Saren's betrayal, she'd found him arrogant, but that had eased back.
He sat, then turned to look at the bed. "Why is this bed built for two people, but so that they have to sleep apart?"
Shepard shrugged. "The fun part only takes half a bed, and then afterwards, the bed gives the perfect excuse not to have to cuddle."
His brow plates rose and his mandibles spread and fluttered. "Does the Alliance encourage liaisons between their captains and crew?"
Shepard shook her head. "Quite the opposite. Fraternization is a court martial offence." She shrugged. "I'd never sleep with anyone under my command anyway. Makes maintaining discipline a pain in the ass." Her quirky smile returned, and she flipped her hands in an exaggerated shrug. "On this boat, I guess that just leaves you … and you don't like my bed."
He cleared his throat, but held her stare. "You can't help yourself, can you? You have to … push my ... buttons. I believe that's what your people call it."
"We're going to be partners." Shepard shrugged, taking note of the sudden pulse that thumped just below his mandibles. "So, yeah, I want to know how you respond to stimuli."
"Keep pushing that particular button, and you'll find out." He met and held her gaze.
Shepard didn't look away, knowing he was testing her. She just cocked an eyebrow. "So, did you come in here to see if you could double-dog-dare me into having sex with you, or are you saving that for another day?"
He grumbled something that her translator missed, but she caught the gist of it anyway and grinned. She'd been called worse. Letting out a long breath, he stood and paced to the door and back. "Actually, I came to thank you for what you said to the Council. I was prepared to tell them the truth about what happened with Saren. You were right. I let my guard down, and I shouldn't have." He grumbled. "And I shouldn't have lost my temper and risked the mission."
"Yeah, I know, but of the two of us, you had the better chance of convincing them to take Saren as a serious threat. Who knew that it would be for nothing. Idiots." She looked down at her paperwork.
"They're cautious," he replied, his voice softer, conciliatory. "They are three people responsible for the lives of billions of beings from a multitude of races. Saren has protected the galaxy for a long time." He sighed. "He's done a lot of good. I wanted to be just like him, once."
Shepard winced, wondering if she should even bring up her suspicion from the meeting with the council, but decided on full disclosure. If he rejected her idea out of hand, it would tell her a lot about their partnership. "I thought I saw something pass between the turian councillor and Saren near the end of the hearing." As she said the words, she felt stupid for saying them, but then before he could respond, she asked, "Why would they take his word over yours? Of the two of you, you have the cleanest record."
Nihlus winced enough for her to know that he'd asked himself the same question.
"What if they're covering for him?" she pushed. "Will any evidence we bring forward convince them?" When he didn't answer, Shepard nodded and gestured for him to take a seat again. "So . . . Saren. Attacking colonies to steal prothean tech is new, but his hatred of humans isn't." She looked up, holding him with a frank stare. "Right?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She watched him, trying to read his body language. Trying to read turian faces proved to be an unreliable source of information, but body language translated a lot closer to parity. She kept poking him to read him, and grudgingly, he was teaching her. Saren's betrayal wounded him, but more than that, it had thrown everything he knew and believed off center. She needed to play it cool with him as much as she enjoyed tossing him around. It wouldn't take much to tip him off his fulcrum.
Even though it pained her, she decided to play it straight. "Do you know where it comes from? Is it just a race thing, or is there more to it?"
"He's had some bad run-ins with humans. His brother was a general in the war against your people. His brother died. Not during the war, but Saren seems to blame humans for it anyway. Saren's not like me, charming and talkative, so I don't really know much more than that." Despite his attempt at flippancy, his eyes stayed sad, almost lost. He hadn't been given enough time to process anything. He needed quiet and a chance to think. Neither of which he would get for a bit. They needed to track down evidence on what the hell Saren was doing.
"At least we have some leads to follow. He can't be allowed to get away with this." Nihlus ignored her invitation and continued to pace.
"Hey, Kryik." When he turned, she nodded toward the bed. "Sit down. You're wearing out my deck plating, and it's new." He turned to look into her eyes, and she tipped her head toward the bed again. "Sit. This isn't something you can walk off."
He let out a soft chuff of air and sat. "What happened to the twitchy inner bitch?"
Shrugging, Shepard stood and moved over to sit on the bed, pulling a knee up between them so she faced him. "Meh, she's worn out. Udina does that to her."
He turned slightly, matching her posture. "You've had run-ins with him before?"
She shrugged. "Yeah, I may have accidentally . . ." She cleared her throat. ". . . set his hair on fire at a memorial once. Stupid candles. His reaction may or may not have led me to make his life a living hell while we were both on Arcturus." A soft, wry smile curved her lips, and she left it to his imagination as to whether or not her story was bullshit.
An almost comfortable silence fell between them before she took a breath and spoke again. "So, is your half of the vision from the beacon as much a scrambled mess of weird and scary shit as my half?"
A sinuous ripple travelled from his shoulders out to his extremities, a shudder that answered the question without him needing to speak. Still, after another moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Nothing makes sense. Just destruction, horror, and terror." Another shudder. "I've seen a lot, Shepard . . . lived through a lot, but the fear in that vision . . . the hopelessness . . .."
"It's almost enough to rip out your guts." She hid the slight tremble in her hands and winked. "Good thing we're so ornery."
"We?" His mandibles fluttered, but he straightened a little.
"So, what about Saren? How did you two end up as jedi and padawan?" When he scowled at her in confusion, she just blinked and shook her head. "Mentor and student."
He took a deep breath, the air whistling a little through his very flat nose. "The turian military has a Spectre training program for finding suitable candidates. I was chosen to continue on." He shrugged as if it were the easiest thing in the galaxy to get chosen as a Spectre. "Saren wasn't the best Spectre in the galaxy at the time. He was hard on me, showed me a lot I wanted to live up to." His voice dropped to a near whisper. "A lot I didn't as well, but . . . he saved my life. I owed him everything."
Shepard found herself staring at the way the end of his nose moved when he talked, although she had a feeling that if she squealed over it like she had the keeper, he'd probably shoot her. Still, might be worth it.
When he stopped talking, she nodded. "It's got to feel like someone shot you full of polonium rounds."
"Doesn't matter, does it? All that matters now is making sure he doesn't do anything else." He stood. "I heard from my contact at CSec. We're looking for an Officer Garrus Vakarian. He was in charge of the investigation. However, he's since disappeared off the radar. My contact said he would try to find him. We need to meet Harkin in Chora's Den."
Shepard shrugged. "Nice place?"
He chuckled. "If your taste runs to seedy bars, tits shaking in your face, and overpriced drinks."
Shepard made a face. "Really not my scene. Never seen the appeal of asari strippers personally, and hell, if I want to see human tits, I just have to look down." She did so. "Yep, still there."
He just shook his head. "Hopefully Harkin can help us find Vakarian. If the drunk little maggot is just stringing me along, I'll rip his arms off."
Nodding toward the door, she said, "Come on. It's about the time places like Chora's Den start filling up with undesirables." She stepped past him, leading the way to the door.
"Do you know anything about Vakarian?" she asked as they headed across the mess area toward her locker.
Nihlus shrugged. "Not much." He fell in beside her. "His father is a legend on the force. Garrus has a reputation for being a hothead who doesn't think much of the rules."
"Oh my, a rebel. However will he fit in with us?" Shepard chuckled. She raised a hand and waved to Alenko over at his station. "Hey, Sport, suit up, and fill your pockets with singles. We're going out on the town."
"Singles, ma'am?"
"We're hitting a titty bar, Lieutenant. Got to be prepared." She laughed as Kaidan blushed a bright red. "Whoa! Damp that down there, Alenko. I'm getting a sunburn."
Kaidan fled for the elevator.
"Wow, note to self: can't tease that one. He'll burst into flames." Looking over at Nihlus, she noticed the turian wringing his hands a little. She needed to keep him out of his head until they had time to sit around and talk him through everything. "So, Kryik. Why do turians wear gloves all the time? I've never seen one of your people without them."
"Social convention from interacting with the other races. The gloves make our talons look more friendly … less deadly."
"Really? Now you've got me curious." She nudged him a little with her elbow. "Come on, let's see the deadly." She shrugged into her undersuit, smoothing it out before starting at her feet, sealing her armour in place.
He chuckled. "You really have no sense of personal boundaries, do you? We only take them off around family and close friends." He pulled his hands behind his back.
Shepard gasped. "I'm wounded. After saving your life twice, and taking the hit with the Council, I thought we were working ourselves to a good place, Kryik … somewhere special."
"Spirits," he grumbled. "Fine, if you'll just shut up about us going somewhere special." He pulled off one glove and held out his hand.
"Nice." Shepard took it between both of hers, ignoring the small gasp of surprise that escaped him. "Not as hard as I thought. Calloused too. Love a man with callouses." She ran her fingertip along the sharp foretalon. "Very nice."
"No boundaries," Nihlus sighed.
Shepard grinned. "Maybe not, but now I know where yours are." She looked pointedly at his hand then winked at him and clicked her tongue. "Very nice indeed."
"I'm never going to know where I stand with you, am I?" He pulled his glove back on.
Shepard stopped and turned. "You'll always know exactly where you stand with me, Kryik." She gestured back and forth between them a couple of times. "This little game ... that's just me figuring you out. When push comes to shove, you'll never have a single doubt of where you stand." She settled her right gauntlet into place then jerked her head toward the elevator. "Let's get moving."
She got into the elevator and held the door, waiting. After nearly a minute, he strode around the corner and stepped in beside her. Looking up at him with a wry grin, she said, "You're loving the hell out of the game. You know you are."
He just cleared his throat and stared straight ahead at the door. "You wield your sexuality like a weapon."
She nodded. "Damn straight. It's the only one no one has any shields against."