Shepard and Garrus caught a lift with the second shuttle, jumping out at the transit station a half block from Afterlife's front door. Shepard stared up at the sign for a moment, praying she didn't have to crawl before Aria to find out where Dr. Solus was. She would for Nihlus's sake, but the idea left a very bad taste in her mouth.
Forcing the image of blood bubbling from Nihlus's nose and mouth into the back of her head, she took a deep breath, trying to control the fear that clenched its fist in her guts. She'd lost so many over the years, but . . .. Not Nihlus. Not after all the crap they'd made it through.
Get moving, you idiot. Standing here panicking isn't helping.
"Okay," she said, looking up into Garrus's eyes as she shook off the dread. A plan always forced back the madness. Keep busy, work the plan. "We'll split up. Ask the civilians first, and pray to the great glowing asses of the Enkindlers someone knows something." She gave him a quick nod and hurried over to a small cluster of humans in expensive clothes.
"Hi, there," she said, giving them her best, least crazy-looking smile. It fit like someone washed and tumble-dried it on hot. "A friend of mine was hurt and taken to a local doctor. I was wondering if you knew where to find the clinic? A Dr. Solus works there."
They gave her dismissive head shakes then turned their backs, pointedly ignoring her. She didn't know which she hated more, snobs or being ignored.
She grasped the closest woman by the shoulders and spun her around. "You are so adorable. I could just eat you up!" Shepard kissed both of the horrified woman's cheeks. "You guys have been so sweet. Thank you. I'll remember meeting you always. Glory hallelujah and praise be to the Enkindlers for your help, brothers and sisters." She gave them a full on crazy smile with a side of 'I know where you live, so sleep lightly' then moved on.
Okay, being ignored wins by a slight margin.
She approached a couple of salarians, sliding her poorly fitting smile back into place. "Hello gentlemen, you wouldn't be able to help me find a Dr. Solus, would you?"
"As long as you don't kiss us," one said, smoothing the wrinkles in his suit. His eyes widened, looking positively terrified by the possibility of a human touching him with her lips.
Shepard chuckled, hope pushing aside her anger. "I promise, not a single smooch."
"Gozu district," the one salarian said, "but you won't get in. That's Blue Suns territory. Mordin won't pay protection. They tried to shake him down, he shot them all, bandaged up the ones he didn't kill, and then tossed them out." The slender alien chuckled nervously and glanced around as if afraid of being watched.
Shepard began to suspect that Aria's turf formed a sort of neutral ground where all the gangs could have a presence but no power. In an odd sort of way, it made the megalomaniacal asari the champion of the little guy on the station.
"Point is," his kiss-phobic companion said, straightening his tunic again, "Blue Suns control the whole district. You go in like that, won't make it past the transit depot."
Frowning, Shepard held out her arms, looking down at herself. "Why? What's wrong with the way I look?" Damn, they were right. Alliance soldier through and through.
"You're Alliance, and your friend . . ." He nodded at Garrus. ". . . if he's not turian military or C-Sec, my grandmother is a krogan." His brows raised a little, his huge brown eyes widening a little. "Does my family owe me an explanation?"
Shepard chuckled and shook her head. "No, your family history isn't in question." She screwed her mouth off to one side in a thoughtful scowl. They needed a way in, and fast. Crawling through ducts? Stepping back, she looked up, searching for vents. Maybe, but without a sound knowledge of the systems, they could end up sucking vacuum or falling into a life support plant. Not to mention the complications of trying to squeeze Garrus through the tight spots.
"The Blue Suns know everyone who belongs in their districts," the first one said. "On Omega, you stick to your district; stay close to the gang you pay protection to. No careless wandering."
"That is not good news, salarian brother. I don't suppose either of you has a detailed schematic of the duct and ventilation system in your back pocket?" Shepard looked around, her eyes landing on a small group of Blue Suns entering Afterlife. They might be able to sneak in disguised as Blue Suns, but finding a set of their armour that fit her wouldn't be an easy task.
"Why is it so important you talk to Mordin Solus?" the first one asked. He shifted closer to her. "You have any intel on him?"
Shepard shook her head. "You have just given me twice as much as I came up here with. A friend was hurt badly during a fight against the Blood Pack. Our doctor said Dr. Solus might be able to help."
"Blood Pack?" Kiss-phobic scratched at a long scar down the side of his face.
She nodded at it, feeling an opening forming. "They do that?"
"I wandered, didn't have any creds to pay my way back out." He nodded. "There's a way, if you can pull it off." He gave her a haughty, cunningly superior look.
"She's Alliance." The first one looked her up and down, casting a worried scowl at his companion. "They're as covert as influenza."
"Wait." Shepard perked up. "I'm a pretty decent actress when I need to be. What's the way in?" She felt the seconds ticking past as they stared at her and deliberated. "And what's it going to cost me?"
Kiss-phobic sighed. "Did you kill all the Blood Pack who hurt your friend?"
"Yeah, took out about twenty all told."
His eyes narrowed as he grinned. "Then you've paid my fee, but we're not responsible when you get yourself shot."
"Understood." She leaned in, trying to impress upon them the urgency of her timeline. "My friend really needs me to hurry."
"There is a human lives close to Mordin's clinic. He's married, but Blue Suns smuggle in females discreetly. Rumours say mutually beneficial arrangement. He funds suspect ventures for the Suns." Kiss-phobic looked her over again. "Tell Blue Suns that you're going to see Patrick Donovan, that you're interviewing for a housekeeper position. You'll need different clothes."
Shepard nodded. Something moved behind the salarian's eyes. It didn't feel like a set up, but even if it was, if it got them into the district past the Suns, they could deal with the fall out. "Thanks for the information." She turned and lifted a hand, calling Garrus over to her as she strode toward the door to the upper markets.
"Good luck," kiss-phobic called after them.
"Did you find out where Solus is?" Garrus asked, settling in stride next to her.
"Gozu district. Apparently getting past the Blue Suns will be a problem. They control the district, and Solus isn't overly popular with them.." She looked around, seeing Blue Suns scattered here and there, walking in pairs or small groups.
He patted his sidearm. "There's the old-fashioned way. From what I see, it would be doing Omega a favour."
Shepard shook her head, not that she didn't understand his desire to clean them out. "Nihlus doesn't have time for the two of us to wage a gang war and fight our way through a couple hundred Blue Suns. Not that Omega couldn't use a good gang purge." She palmed the door, trotting down the stairs when it opened. "No, this is going to require subterfuge, Brother C-Sec." She switched to her hard-boiled detective voice and winked. "We're going to have to be sneaky, see?"
She palmed the door at the bottom of the stairs and stepped through. "Those salarians told me there is a prominent underworld figure, Patrick Donovan, who has women smuggled in." She looked at him and shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard to find you a disguise. Me . . . I'm going to have to do a little shopping."
"Shopping? And this won't take as long as shooting our way through?" He shook his head. "I don't know." He met her gaze and shook his head again. "No, I don't like or trust the look in your eyes right now. Let's just go. Maybe they'll let us through."
"Find a Blue Sun your size. I'll meet you back here in five minutes." Not waiting for him to confirm, then pointedly ignoring his protests as he called after her, Shepard ran across the market into a clothing store.
"Oh, my," the asari attendant said and sighed. "Look at you. Need something to smooth out the rough edges, do we?"
"Mmm, indeed," Shepard asked. "I'm looking for something to drive my man wild. Think you can help?"
The blue beauty winked at her. "You've come to the right place. What sort of occasion is it? Demure? Formal? Racy?" She moved to one of the racks and started sorting through.
Shepard cocked her hip and tapped her fingertip against her lower lip. "More of a jaw hitting the floor, forgetting his own name sort of occasion."
The asari chuckled and pulled out a hangar. "You're in luck. We just got this in."
"Shoes? Do you have any that will work with this dress?" Shepard took the hangar and hurried back to the curtained area. She stripped out of her armour and wriggled into the dress in under a minute. Time gnawed at her, a clock ticking away every second as she forced her last glimpse of Nihlus into the back corner of her mind. The memory made her hands tremble, and she couldn't afford trembling.
She turned to look at the deep blue, sparkling fabric of the dress. "Holy crap!" she squawked. "There's more collar than there is dress." It just covered her backside and holes spaced down its length revealed bits of herself she was pretty sure had never seen the light of day. Her bra showed everywhere, so she took it off, just barely restraining the urge to clamp her arms over her chest.
She turned to face the mirror head on, the pain she'd felt when Nihlus called her a whore returning. It swelled until it was all she could do to turn away from the mirror instead of smashing it. If Nihlus saw her wearing that dress, he'd never look at her with anything other than disgust ever again. She swallowed her nausea and blinked back the burning in her eyes.
You're not working with Nihlus right now, you're trying to save his damned life, so woman up, goddamn it. Work the hell out of this fucking dress.
"Shoes, love." The asari slipped a pair of massive stiletto heels under the curtain. "The way those things make you walk, his jaw won't just hit the floor, it'll fall clean off."
Shepard clung to the walls as she put them on. "Lovely." She turned, her eyebrows rising. They did make her legs look spectacular. She clapped her hands on her backside. "Day-um. Where did this ass come from?"
"It's the shoes, love," the sales girl replied from the other side of the curtain.
Shepard's eyebrows went up. "Magic shoes. Now I'll just need the grace of the mighty Enkindlers to keep from breaking both ankles. Okay, I'll wear the dress and shoes out. Do you have a bag I could use for my armour, please?"
A large shopping bag appeared under the curtain. "Thanks so much." Shepard shoved her armour and normal, sane, I've-never-been-paid for-sex clothes into the bag, took a deep breath and stepped out through the curtain. She winced as the asari wolf whistled.
"You're going straight out?" the clerk asked. When Shepard nodded to the affirmative, the asari winced. "No make up? And your hair could use a little . . .." She sighed and reached under the counter, pulling out perhaps the largest purse in the history of feminine luggage. "Hold still, it'll take me only a few seconds to fix."
Sprays, foams, cosmetics, and things Shepard was pretty sure constituted torture devices flew around her head, attaching to hair, eyelashes . . . ears. What the hell was the woman doing to her ears, and why did an asari have hair products?
Oh, sweet baby Jesus, let them be hair products.
As fast as the floral-scented storm hit, it abated, and a mirror appeared in front of her face.
"Holy crap. I have eyelashes?" She batted the lengthy things at herself. She passed over her credit chit, wincing as the total for her street-walker attire appeared on the computer. Still . . . it had only taken seven and a half minutes to turn her into a woman. That had to be worth a decent tip.
"Good luck, honey. Oh, and pay attention to the underside of his fringe. He'll be putty in your hands." The asari waved.
Wait? What? She thought . . . C-Sec . . .? Shepard stumbled, her ankle letting out a warning twinge. "Fringe . . . ah, yeah. Okay, thanks." She tottered a little as she hurried back to the corner where she could see Garrus waiting for her, looking almost as uncomfortable in his Blue Suns armour as she felt in her disguise.
"Okay, C-Sec, let's roll," she called, walking past him. She made it three or four metres before she realized he wasn't following and turned back. "Hey, C-Sec, come on. Time's a-wastin'."
His eyes slid right over her, and he scowled, searching for her. "Shepard?"
"The impressively sexy woman to your right, C-Sec." She waved when he turned back. "Yeah, hi. It's me, not a ventriloquist act. Let's go."
Garrus's mandibles hit the floor. "Sweet baby Jesus," he whispered.
She laughed, a relieved sigh whispering through her lips as he stared but without a trace of condemnation. "You don't even know what that means." She crooked her finger. "Did you make sure your uniform donor won't be found?"
He nodded as he stepped up next to her, his mouth still hanging open. "What? How?" His mouth clacked shut. "Your hair . . . and eyes . . .." His eyes slid down to her bare chest and shoulders. "And, you have . . .."
"Yes, I have boobs, collarbones, elbows, a navel . . . all sorts of body parts. Who knew? Okay, so if they ask at the transit hub, Patrick Donovan is interviewing housekeepers." She palmed the door into the district.
"Housekeepers?" He stepped into the elevator down. "Dressed like that? You're practically . . .."
"You're going to have to sell it. That means no mandibles dragging behind you." She laid her hand on his chest. "Can you sell it?"
He twitched a little, his eyes nervously glancing down at her hand. After a second, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. Can you?"
She chuckled. "Oh, yeah, no worries. A lot less skin has gotten me into tighter places. Hold my arm. Good and tight."
He gripped her upper arm and braced his elbow under hers. "I'm not dragging in a prisoner."
The elevator opened to reveal four Blue Suns guarding the transit depot. She leaned into him. "I know. You're keeping me from falling over in these stupid, Enkindler-cursed shoes. I haven't walked a block yet and my toes are already screaming." She passed him the shopping bag with her armour and weapons in it, leaning her chest into him as she stared up adoringly, batting her eyelashes. "Will you please carry my bag, Mr. Big Strong Turian? I'm just a little helpless woman." More batting.
He grumbled, a grudging chuckle following it out. "Back off, I'm . . . ahhh . . . immune to your . . .." He shooed her away with a hand. ". . . whatever. Just do . . . the thing it is you . . . um, need to do."
Shepard chuckled. "Yeah, immune. That's why your tongue is tied in a knot." She took a deep breath, sealing all her nerves and worries behind the well-practiced wall. It was an old game, and one she played well.
Garrus matched his speed to hers as she placed one foot in front of the other, swinging her hips, her back straight, her head high. Her lips curved in a soft, suggestive smile as the Blue Suns turned to face them. 'You know you all want me,' it whispered.
A human stepped forward. "Again? Damn, the man has an a hell of an appetite."
Garrus chuckled. "I take it this isn't the first applicant for the position?"
"Fourth in the last two days." He turned and nodded to a batarian. "Set the car. The other end will deal with the lady's trip back."
Shepard brushed past the Blue Sun, dragging soft fingers over his cheek and down his neck. Leaning into him, she whispered. "Maybe he's just looking for the right applicant?" Licking her lips and giving him a slow wink, she allowed Garrus to pull her away.
A frown creased the human Blue Sun's forehead as he tore his eyes from her to Garrus. "I don't know you. Is it your first time delivering? He usually keeps to the same couple of guys."
"Yeah." Garrus led Shepard toward the car. "Anything I should be aware of?"
"Yeah, a word to wise. You don't need to stay and wait." He made a slight cough and ducked his head, refusing to look at Shepard. "The less you see, the better, man."
Shepard's heart fell into her ridiculous heels. What the hell had they stumbled into? Had the salarians known? Dizziness made it feel as though the car was already moving. For a moment, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep her stomach from heaving all over her shoes. She'd have to chat with the helpful salarians later. Much later, after she sorted things out with Patrick Donovan.
Garrus nodded. "Good to know, thanks. Wouldn't want to spend hours waiting for nothing." He laughed, cold as ice, the tone making all of Shepard's hair stand on end. "That sort of makes it ironic that he's looking for a housekeeper, doesn't it?"
All four of them laughed. Shepard forced her face to keep the slightly stupid, doe-eyed expression until Garrus climbed in next to her and pulled the top closed.
"Shepard," Garrus warned softly, shaking his head as she stared across the car at him, her entire body rigid with fury. "We've got to get to Dr. Solus. We can report this Donovan guy when we're done."
"To whom, Garrus? The fucking Blue Suns run this district, and to them, sending four women to a horrific death over the course of two days is the most hilarious joke they've heard." She bristled. "No. No way. We'll find Mordin, and then I'll go interview for my housekeeping position." Reaching into the back seat, she grabbed her bag of armour and guns, pulling her sidearm out.
"Where are you going to hide a gun in that dress?" he asked, lifting a brow plate.
"I won't be hiding it." She looked at him, serious as death. "You know I have to clean up this mess we found."
He turned to look into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll have your back, Shepard."
She let out a long breath. "Thanks. That means a lot." Shaking her head, she let her guard down a little, affection bleeding into her stare for a fraction of a second. "No." She nodded and turned to face the windscreen. "It means everything. For all the little girls who saw no other choice and ended up here unable to fight for themselves."
The car settled down onto a street. On the driver's side, a mansion grew out of the squalor, the polished granites and marbles obscenely out of place on Omega. Gardens lined the facade, their beauty indecent against the ugliness of everything on the other side of the wall of cedars. Shepard stared at the fountain, wondering how many women sat in her place over the months or years and stared up at the mansion believing all of their dreams had come true. Too many.
"Go ask where Mordin's clinic is," she whispered, nodding to a guard by the front gate. "He should be more than willing to tell one of his brothers. I'll meet you across the street." When he opened the door, she slipped out the passenger side, crouching down in cover against the fender. She slipped off her shoes while she waited, listening for Garrus's voice. As soon as he had the guard distracted, she bolted, keeping low and racing across the street to take cover behind a garbage bin. One hand reached up, yanking the back of her skirt down, a cool breeze curling around her altogether too personally.
A couple of minutes later, Garrus strode across the street and around a corner. She checked to be sure the coast was clear, then darted after him, her bare feet silent on the gritty concrete. He waited halfway down the next block.
"The clinic is just around the next corner and down a level," Garrus told her. "He warned me not to go in. Apparently Dr. Solus and his military-grade mechs shoot Blue Suns on sight."
Shepard lifted into a quick jog, her heart slowing a little. "That's okay, you can wait outside. I just have to ask him to help. Not like I'm expecting a firefight or anything." Pausing outside the clinic door, she turned back. "I'll be right back."
The armed guards behind the counter grabbed Shepard's attention the moment she stepped through the door. A giant side of beef with a head that sprouted straight of his shoulders gave her a clear view of his rifle as he said, "Behave yourself inside the clinic."
"Sure thing." She approached the only person who wore a white smock. "Hello. I need to speak to Dr. Solus, please?"
"He's busy with a patient at the moment. If you could take a seat . . .." The woman didn't look up at Shepard, her tone making it clear that she considered herself too overworked and underpaid to actually give a shit.
Omega's new bumper sticker. Omega: we just don't give a shit.
"Sure." She walked through the second door. Patients of all races sat scattered here and there, a couple lying on cots. Passing them all by, Shepard headed down a cross corridor.
"Miss! You can't just go back there. You need to sign in," the attendant called after her.
"I just need to speak with him for a moment, then I'll get right out of your hair," she called back. Two mechs stood at the end of the hall, their optical sensors following her, but apparently not registering pushy as a threat. The room on one side held a bunch of equipment, and on the other a human woman and a salarian stood over a patient.
"Patient responding well to treatment," the salarian said. "Move him into other room to rest. If vitals continue to improve, will send home in twenty-four hours." He looked up at Shepard and cocked his head as if trying to puzzle her out. "Mannerisms, posture not those of prostitute." He scanned her with his omnitool. "Recent scar tissue from bullet wounds. Concussion fractures. Soldier."
"Dr. Solus?" Shepard stepped through the door and shook her head. "Yeah, I'm not a hooker. I'm with the Alliance." She shrugged, Udina flashing through her head in a moment of pure nausea. "They're a whole different sort of pimp. I need to speak with you. My partner has been critically injured, and my ship's surgeon sent me to find you."
"Too many patients needing me here. Cannot help you." He brushed past her.
She followed. "He's turian. His chest was crushed by a krogan. Dr. Chakwas didn't seem very hopeful, but . . .."
The salarian turned back. "Crushed? He was charged? Hit front or side?" He paced as he spoke, his voice and feet both gaining momentum as he went.
"No, he was down, lying on his side." She turned sideways to show him the direction of the impact. "The krogan stomped down on him pretty much in the center of his upper arm."
"Turian rib construction, problematic. Crushed from front, good chance of recovery. Keel structure spreads impact like parabolic arch." He rested the elbow of one arm in his opposite hand, his fingers curled in front of his mouth. Stopping suddenly, he spun to face her, startling her a little. "Frothy blood from nose and mouth?" He didn't wait for her to answer with more than a nod. "As I thought. Lung punctures, no doubt other internal organs perforated as well." He gave her an empathetic shake of his head and sucked in a long, hissing breath through his nostrils. "Your partner's survival not likely."
Shepard nodded, giving him that. "Look, Nihlus is a good and honorable Spectre. I got dressed up in this ridiculous outfit to sneak past the Blue Suns to find you, because he's not going to make it without you. Please?" She looked away, staring at her filthy feet, bare and vulnerable looking against the floor. "He means a lot to me."
"Nihlus Kryik?" Mordin asked, taking a step toward her.
Something in his rapid-fire voice sparked hope deep in her gut, and she looked up. "Yes. You know him?"
"Worked with him twice during my years in STG. Good Spectre." He glanced around. "Nalah, call husband. Need extra security while I'm gone." He turned from Shepard, hurrying around the space.
"You're going somewhere, Dr. Solus?" The human woman stepped past Shepard.
"Yes, need to assist colleague performing problematic surgery. Will maintain radio contact if you need me." He paused halfway through packing his bag to face Shepard. "Send me information, I have own ways in and out of district. Won't need to dress like prostitute." Another long, hissing inhalation. "Blue Suns cocky, arrogant. Makes it easy to slip around them." He studied her for a moment, ceasing all movement for the first time since she arrived.
"Blue Suns let you in. Believed you going to service Patrick Donovan?" He stared for another heartbeat then started flitting around again, talking to himself about what he might need.
"You're familiar with him? He's a murderer, isn't he? He does something terrible to the girls they bring him?" Shepard asked, her throat tightening with rage. Did everyone on the entire damned station know the sins of everyone else and just let them go?
Mordin paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "Yes, believe so, but familiar with reputation only. Spoke with Aria. Nothing I can do unless he comes into clinic and tries to injure staff or patients."
Shepard let out a slow breath, relaxing her shoulders. It wasn't like she expected a doctor to storm someone's home commando-style, mowing down the Blue Suns that got in his way. "Everyone here uses everyone else, don't they?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Omega functions not according to laws or government. Strong live off the weak, the weak off those weaker. I run clinic. Help all who seek aid in good faith. One salarian, even a genius, cannot change Omega." He closed his bag. "Information?"
Shepard nodded. "Oh right, sorry." She sent him the Normandy's docking information and Dr. Chakwas's personal radio frequency. "Whatever happens, Dr. Solus . . . thank you for helping Nihlus."
"Pleased to assist. See you aboard your vessel when your work is finished." He spun and ducked out through a panel in the back wall.
Shepard took a deep breath and headed back out front.
"Success?" Garrus asked when she walked out. Falling in step beside her, he kept glancing over as if waiting for her to detonate. He didn't need to worry.
Detonation would wait until she had Patrick Donovan's throat in her fingers. Every dead end since Eden Prime, every time they arrived too late, every stupid mistake that let Saren slip away . . . Patrick Donovan would taste them all before she blew.
She slipped a glance across at her friend, that warmth keeping the spark an arm's length from the fuse. "Mordin is on his way. He has his own routes in and out of the Suns' territory. I have another stop or two to make before I head back to the ship." She ran up the stairs, her legs moving strong and solid, her entire body fortified with steel and rage. No one who lived on that god-forsaken station might give a crap, but she did, and she intended to clean up the one, tiny corner she could. If Nihlus died, at least something would have come out of the madness.