4 days ASD
"Did Shepard ever tell you how I found her?" Anderson asked. He shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable, as if he both needed to talk about it and worried that doing so broke some unspoken confidence.
Garrus lifted one of the chairs to within a couple of metres of the captain, turning it as he set it down. Stepping around it, he shook his head and then sat. "Not really. Hints here and there. She … we didn't have a chance to get that far." Trying to set Anderson at ease, he settled into the seat, taking the position they called the 'relaxed inquisition' back at C-Sec. Slightly slumped, hands on his thighs, the foot furthest from the door slid forward a bit to give the perp the illusion of a clear path to the door.
Anderson leaned with his elbow on the desk, his fingers braced against his temple. "Her family lived in a small agricultural community a couple of hours from the capital, so it took us almost twelve hours to make it out there once we landed. The slavers had been gone for about fourteen or fifteen hours by that point." He scrubbed his fingertips across his brow. "In the middle of the cluster of houses, we found a bunch of empty cages, couple dozen corpses including a few batarians. The slavers had been clubbed to death. I found out later from Shepard that her father led a revolt. Brave, but doomed, and Jane paid for it in the end." He shook himself as if trying to rid himself of a thick layer of muck.
Garrus nodded and shifted a little, opening his posture a little more. "She mentioned that they used her as a weapon against him." His mind conjured that image, a shadow of the helpless rage, agony, and guilt Shepard's father must have felt settling down in the chair with him. Being a father, trapped and caged, unable to give in because doing so meant damning everyone, but his resistance damning the person most precious to him … . Garrus doubted he possessed a sufficient level of selflessness to endure it. He would have broken.
"In the center of the space, we found a bloody body covered by a corpse that was missing most its head. There was so much blood on the ground that our medic barely slowed down. He checked for a pulse at her wrist. Her skin was ice-cold, so he moved on." The captain looked up, not needing to say how badly Shepard had been injured, the grief and weariness in his eyes speaking volumes. "I've never seen anything like it and pray I never do again." Strong fingers reached up to unsnap his collar, reefing it open as if the thing choked him.
Garrus fought off the urge to copy the other man, but it wasn't his collar coiled and tightening around his neck like a garotte.
"God help me, sometimes I still wake up with that stink suffocating me." A jagged oath accompanied pressing the heel of his hand to his brow. "Sorry." Anderson drew in a deep breath, visibly composing himself. "Sorry." His sadness and loss disappeared back behind that inscrutable stoicism once more.
Garrus just shook his head, dismissing it, knowing from experience the ghosts that had followed Anderson since that day. More than a few tracked him like a pack of varren. The galaxy progressed, politicians claimed their corners of that galaxy safer than ever before, but the cops … the cops knew how unsafe people truly were. They stood over the raped and murdered, looked into the tear-stained faces, and then tried to set it all aside to do their job. It never really worked, but the emotional distance helped. Anderson didn't have that buffer.
The captain cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. "Something told me to stop and take a closer look, so I pulled the corpse off her. It was her father, although I didn't know that at the time, of course. They let him loose then shot him in the head while he knelt over her, trying to comfort her.
"I thought I heard a sound from the body on the bottom and pulled off the hood. I undid the blindfold, and these big, beautiful, green eyes stared back at me, blinking in the light. For about a minute, she just stared, but then she let out this scream … ." Anderson's hand returned to his throat, rubbing at the two day growth of beard. "The pain and terror and heartbreak in that scream just about killed me, but underneath the rest, I felt a strength like I've never witnessed anywhere else. I knew then why she'd survived." He cleared his throat and let out a grumbling sigh as he pushed himself up in his chair, straightening.
Garrus closed his eyes for a second. He'd seen that strength for the first time on Therum. It hadn't been muscle that kept him from falling to his death.
"I couldn't get her out of the shackles, so I dragged the stakes out of the ground and hammered on the chains until they broke. She spent months in the hospital recovering physically, then they shipped her off to a mental institution. I broke her out of that hellhole after three months." He growled low in his throat and shook his head. "They locked her in the dark, telling her that she needed to realize that there was nothing there that could hurt her. Morons."
A deep, growling subvocal sharpened the edge of Garrus's words as the protector Shepard railed against roared with rage. "They locked her in the dark?" For a moment, he lamented the lack of existing time-travel technology that thwarted his need to go back and kick the hospital staff in the ass. "They took a traumatized kid and locked her in the dark?"
Anderson let out a derisive cough. "Called it immersion therapy."
Garrus's foot twitched. "I'll give them immersion therapy. They can walk around with my foot in their cloaca all day." He forced himself to throw wet sand on the blaze. He was just using the anger to keep the harder crap at bay.
At least she had Anderson to pull her out of that place. Garrus felt a bond of affection form as he imagined the scene that must have ensued. If it hadn't been for the man in front of him, his Kahri would have died a teenager, not even making it off Mindoir. Suddenly, he didn't mind so much if Anderson called him son.
"It took weeks before she'd talk, months before she told me anything significant. When she did finally open up a little, Shepard told me that the last thing she remembered before her father's death was her mother and sister being taken away by the slavers. For some reason, she believed that her mother had been killed."
"Wait." Garrus leaned forward, his heart jumping up into his throat. "Are you saying that her mother is alive?" The moment of hope and joy shattered as his memory shot a rocket straight through his gut. It didn't matter. Yes, it mattered for the woman, and it made reuniting half of Shepard's family possible, but Shepard … she'd never know.
"As far as I know." Anderson leaned back and crossed his arms, that hard part of the tale complete. "I searched for a couple of months before I found a slaver who'd transported the slaves from that part of the colony. They were all taken to Karshan then parcelled out, which complicated things. It's easier to get access to slaves out in the colonies, but at least with slavery being legal in batarian space, they all keep excellent records."
The captain activated his omnitool and opened a file. "Took me years to find out what breeding facility Shepard's mother had been taken to, and I'm still trying to get someone in there to find out if Lucille Marie Shepard is still alive." He sent the file to Garrus. "The bastard who purchased her, nearly ten years ago now, is a paranoid son of a bitch. Huge operation on Lorek including weapon smuggling, eezo mining and smuggling, drugs, even breeding varren for pit fighting. The authorities, especially the Alliance, is always trying to nail him to the wall, so I've found buying my way in impossible."
"Did you ever tell Shepard about her mother?" Garrus asked, pretty sure of the answer even before he did. He opened the file and skimmed the information. Anderson had done a thorough search. Maybe some of his C-Sec contacts, especially the agents in the anti-trafficking squad, could give him a hand to get ins where Anderson hadn't been able to.
"No." Anderson stood and paced to the door as if the question surpassed the quota of emotional turmoil he could tolerate while sitting still. "I didn't want to get her hopes up and then crush them again if I found out Lucy was dead. I always hoped I'd be able to sit her down some day soon and give her some unexpected good news." Stopping next to Garrus, he hooked a thumb toward the file. "Anyway, that's everything I found on both of them."
Garrus's stomach threatened, rolling like thunderheads building along the horizon as he formed the next question, but he forced himself to say it. The truth was the truth. "Says here that she'd be … fifty three now. If they've been using her as a breeder, she's rapidly coming up on the end of her usefulness."
Anderson returned to the door, the speed of his pacing becoming more and more rapid. "I know. We're coming up on deadlines with both of them. I have an asari acquaintance who has been attending all the batarian slave auctions since Bunny hit puberty." He returned and perched on the edge of his chair. "The records say she was sold to a very wealthy batarian family on Karshan. I have never been able to find out who they are, just that she was sold privately as a house slave. I've begun to suspect that it's a false record."
Garrus nodded, understanding. "Yeah, batarian mistresses don't usually keep female household slaves past puberty." He scrolled to Shepard's sister's information. "She's nineteen this year. The mistress will be moving her along if she hasn't already." He growled through his subvocals as he cursed. "If she looks like Shepard … . Damn it."
Anderson nodded, looking like he wanted to vomit. "I had the Alliance do an age projection holo and sent it out with my contacts, but they haven't seen her. I can't let her end up in some carnal hole somewhere. I made a promise." He rubbed his throat again.
Garrus closed the file. "Well, there are two of us looking now. We'll find them." He stood, sensing Anderson had reached his limit. He chuffed. Hell, he'd reached his limit. Time to disappear into the shuttle and look through the file, send out feelers on the way to Omega. He offered his hand. "Thank you for going through all of this with me."
Anderson just gave one, firm nod and shook Garrus's hand. "You promised her, just like I did." The captain let out a long, heavy breath. "Goodnight, son."
"Goodnight, sir." Pivoting on his talons, Garrus strode to the door and out. As soon as he cleared the door, he saw Martin and Wrex in the galley, throwing together something that Garrus was pretty sure had started on fire.
"What are you two doing?" he called, afraid to get too close.
"Thresher maw pancakes," Wrex bellowed back. "With grape jelly acid."
The two idiots and their burning thresher maw pancakes seared away some of the dank fungus-like chill that dealing with Mindoir and its aftermath had planted in his gut. "You okay if I hit the rack, kid?" he asked.
Martin looked up for half a second, then turned back to working two spatulas under his pancake. "Yeah, Wrex got me all set up and showed me around. Thanks."
Garrus watched them for another moment, amazed and gratified that Martin had just jumped right in. "You know where to find me if you need anything," he called, turning toward the elevator.
"Yeah," Martin replied, "but by your own admission, you bite."
6 Days ASD
Garrus stepped out onto the docks and looked around: Omega. Nothing had changed in the weeks since he'd last been there. The station still looked disgusting: filthy, poor, and miserable. The noise level still felt like an industrial mining laser drilling into his brain. The stench of feces, vomit, urine, and a thousand other sorts of rot and waste kept sucker punching his gag reflex. Still, something had changed. Through all the grime and stink, he saw something he hadn't before. It blew through the station like a wind off the ocean, and all he could think to call it was freedom.
Certainly, he didn't see it in the eyes of the station denizens around him. They lived under the heel of the gangs and Aria. He housed the change within him, projecting it everywhere he looked. He smiled. Given a few months, the rest of the station would start to see it too. Their tiny army wouldn't just make Omega their home, they'd clean it up, make at least parts of it home for those who wanted it.
We're here, Kahri. We made it. Your grand plan, your dream for us and the war effort, starts today.
He nodded. While they built their resistance to face the Reapers, they'd leave Aria alone—he harboured absolutely no desire to run the station—but the gangs, the gangs he didn't mind wiping out. It would be good practice for their recruits.
"What are you grinning about?" Nihlus grumbled, striking out for the cab stand.
Garrus shrugged. "Just envisioning this place the way it'll look this time next cycle." He followed the Spectre and Martin, but then stopped and stared at the cab. They couldn't rely on station transportation. Too easy for someone to slip a bomb into a cab. "Tomorrow, you two need to find someone who can build us some custom vehicles. We need high performance, shields, concealed weapons. They also need to be completely nondescript. I don't want to attract too much attention."
"Because the army and the flotilla of ships we're building will be completely low key," Martin said, his tone desert parched.
Garrus clipped him in the back of the head. "They will be able to defend themselves. A couple of people running down to the bar for a drink don't need to be asking to get blown out of the air because the mercs recognize our vehicles. They also don't need to get carjacked because they're driving the best looking ride on the station."
He turned to the rest of his team members. Only one team could use the shuttle, the rest had to rely on public transport. "Stay together, don't go into merc territory. If you can't find enough supplies for everyone, we'll double up or borrow from the ship." He cut a grin across at Anderson but then levelled a very serious scowl at Dr. Chakwas. "Dr. Solus is meeting you here?" When she nodded, he mirrored it. "Be careful. Go nowhere without Kaidan."
Kaidan winked at the doctor before turning to Garrus. "Don't worry, General. I've got her back."
"So do we."
Garrus spun toward the gruff, accented voice and came face to face with a tall, lanky human. The man grinned at him, displaying some magnificently smashed teeth beneath an equally impressive bent and broken nose. In fact, the man's whole face looked as though it had seen the losing side of a great many fights, some of them recent.
"And who is we?" Garrus asked, his eyes moving to an extremely tall, broad-shouldered turian who stepped up to cover the human's flank.
"They're with me," Mordin Solus said, stepping into view around the other two. The salarian pointed to the turian and then the human. "Lantar Sidonis. Gabriel Butler."
"Gabe," the human corrected. "My wife works with the doc. I help with security when he needs me." He narrowed his eyes and pushed in on Garrus, bristling a little. "Who are you?"
"Garrus Vakarian." He turned away, refocusing his attention on Mordin. "You'll be coming every day rather than staying?"
"Patients need me, but will be there," the salarian replied, nodding twice in rapid succession. "Challenge to unravel Reaper technology very exciting. Unlimited possibilities for discovery." He turned to Dr. Chakwas. "Ready?"
She nodded but then met Garrus's eyes. "Don't worry, General. We'll be fine." Her calm assurance did more to settle Garrus's concerns about her safety than the presence of Mordin's little brute squad, neither of whom looked particularly solid or trustworthy. "Kaidan and I will pick up Joker on our way over once you give the all clear."
Kaidan chuckled, but it sounded forced. Garrus made a mental note to check in with the lieutenant, make sure he was okay. Kaidan did his best to keep everyone else's spirits up, but he spent most of the time looking lost. "We'll drag him over there even he kicks and screams the whole way."
Mordin nodded to Garrus, then ushered Dr. Chakwas down the docks, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
Garrus waited until the other teams caught cabs and headed off to the markets before he called one for Nihlus, Martin, and himself. They were headed over to scout the first building, sweep through, and deal with any complications. Garrus didn't expect anything more dangerous than outcast vorcha and a few homeless people, but one never knew. The last week had given him a new appreciation and dread of the unexpected.
After entering the building location, Garrus let the cab do the driving while he closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. The few hours he managed to fall asleep he spent chasing nightmares around in an endless loop. He'd watched Shepard die so many times over the past two days that he felt worn paper thin. Somehow he needed to set aside the guilt, the persistent voice in his head that screamed at him to do something to save her, even though that moment had long since past. He hoped that being on Omega, working toward her goals would let him get some sleep.
After the cab landed, Garrus stared up at the building without moving. The last time he'd approached it, Nihlus was down, Ashley wounded, and Shepard charged in like a praela, all fire and wrath, determined to make sure she didn't lose any of her people. Garrus sighed and opened the top.
"Holy crap," Martin squealed the second he climbed out of the cab. He wretched and slapped his hand over his nose and mouth. "What is that smell?"
"Dead krogan," Nihlus answered, walking past. Garrus watched him for any sign of drunkenness, but he seemed steady enough. If he was drunk, he was holding it well, at least. Nihlus grumbled and looked over the edge of the bridge. "You never quite get used to it, but you do stop needing to throw up." He stopped at the center of the bridge that spanned the void between the entrance to the district and the block of buildings. Looking up, he asked, "Aria gave this place to Shepard?"
Garrus nodded, his eyes travelling up the face of the abandoned building. "The whole block." He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat that formed in response to the picture that appeared, unbidden, in his mind, and the sensation of Shepard clinging to his arm. "After Shepard rescued Liselle." He palmed the door control, but it flashed red. He opened his omnitool and went into the file containing the deeds and other documentation for the buildings.
"Mmm," Nihlus hummed noncommittally. "Aria doesn't care for being in anyone's debt." The Spectre backed up a few steps, leaning back. "But a whole block . . . on Omega? Why would she just give Shepard a block of abandoned buildings?"
"Who's Aria?" Martin asked. He put his helmet on, let out a sigh of relief that made Garrus grin, and then followed Nihlus toward the doors.
"Someone you want to steer clear of, kid," Nihlus replied. He slid his hand over a pouch on his armour as if checking to ensure something remained within. "She's thirty times your age and as likely to use her biotics to snap you in half as look at you."
"She's asari?"
Garrus didn't like the starry-eyed quality to Martin's voice and turned to glare at him. "Listen to Nihlus. Aria runs Omega as the largest criminal outpost in the galaxy. Stay away from Afterlife unless you're with Nihlus or me."
"Fine." Martin sulked over to the low wall along the side of the bridge and leaned over to look down the hundreds of floors worth of empty space. "But, I'm not a kid."
"Yeah, you are, but that's not a bad thing," Nihlus retorted. "I wish I could get those cycles back. Don't be too eager to throw them away." He scraped the caked filth from one of the large front windows. "I think I can see what we're smelling."
Garrus found the entry code and unlocked the door, only half-listening to Nihlus. His concentration focused on keeping a lock on the memories of the night he and Shepard had run around Omega first trying to catch up with the team, then to find Mordin Solus. Shepard clung to his arm so tight in those ridiculous shoes. They were completely insane, but he couldn't stop staring at her legs when she wore them. He shook his head, a sharp glance tossed back over his shoulder at Nihlus when he registered that the Spectre had been talking to him. "What was that?"
"Looks like we'll be turning the local body dump into our headquarters." The Spectre walked up, following Garrus in the door. "Why would Aria just give Shepard a block of abandoned buildings?"
Garrus shrugged, just a faint twitch of his head. "The night we chased Tali and those krogan across Omega, Shepard remarked on how we could turn Omega into a base for the war effort. Turn these buildings into barracks for soldiers being trained, a place to plan and organize where the Council had no influence." He stopped, the smell of decay, mold and dust blasting straight into his face.
"Spirits." Nihlus walked past, making it halfway to the stairs before he stopped. "I was almost joking about the body dump."
Garrus chuckled, a bitter rattle of sound. "Why wouldn't Aria dump all her bodies here? Give Shepard a gift that comes complete with a nightmare."
"A fuck you very much?" Martin asked, his expression gloating a little behind his face shield.
Garrus shot him a quick grin then choked down his gag reflex and walked into the lobby. A mostly decayed body lie mouldering at the base of the stairs. Shepard had killed that one on her way in. He opened his omnitool again, calling up a business directory.
"The others are going to be here in a couple of hours. What the hell are we going to do?" Nihlus edged around another body and walked through to the kitchen area. Out of the corner of his eye, Garrus saw the Spectre pull a flask from his armour and take a long belt of whatever was inside.
"Since they'll all be here by supper time, I guess we need to get this place habitable by then." Garrus sent messages to several specialized cleaning services. He probably shouldn't have been surprised by the sheer number of businesses offering services aimed toward cleaning up after dead bodies and other bloody disasters, but he was. "Can you see to getting the utilities all turned on? Martin, head up to the first floor and make sure there isn't anything alive. I'll join you as soon as the cleaners are on the way." He turned away, then glanced back and yelled, "If there is anything alive, run and scream for help. That's brand new armour, don't get it covered in pyjak scratches."
Within fifteen minutes, he'd hired five different contractors, all of whom dispatched multiple teams. As much as they needed the first few floors for the council, the entire building necessitated a purge. Might as well get it done.
Twenty-five minutes after Garrus spoke to the companies, eighteen teams of people in hazmat suits had set up fans, wired up three incinerators, and started shovelling decaying krogan remains into wheelbarrows with proficient good humour and camaraderie.
"I find their efficiency oddly disturbing," Nihlus muttered, walking past. Sure enough, his breath smelled of alcohol. "And this is where she wants us to set up the war effort?"
"It is." Garrus looked down as a ping from his omnitool alerted him to an incoming message. Barla Von, announcing his arrival along with ten scows of salvage from Sovereign. Garrus hadn't expected the little volus to leave his web for the danger and uncertainty of Omega, but Von didn't even hesitate. Instead, he volunteered to escort the first of the salvage convoys. The fact that the Alliance sent five frigates along to protect the convoy didn't diminish the ardent nature of Von's gesture. Rather it spoke volumes about the banker's eager dedication and commitment to Shepard and the cause.
Garrus closed the message and shook his head. They'd all known her such a short time, and she presented herself as such an aggressive, prickly creature, all barbs and quills. Why then did they all love and honour her so completely? He blinked rapidly, easing the burning in his eyes, knowing the answer. Despite her best efforts, her sweet vulnerability and the huge heart underneath the spines, showed through clear as Trebia in Palaven's sky.
He swiped at his eyes. "Damn cleaning solution," he grumbled and strode up the stairs to help Martin check for squatters of any and all varieties.
They found a couple of varren in one of the apartments, a few pyjaks here and there, but nothing that gave them any trouble. As they swept through, he mentally assigned quarters. Liara and Shiala, Tali and Ashley, Nihlus and Martin in the two bedroom units on the first floor, he, Anderson, and Hackett in the singles. His father could stay with him. The apartment he chose for himself was roomy. A bank of windows along one side opened to look over the lobby, allowing him to keep an eye on things. It also had the most massive bed he'd ever seen.
They moved on to the second floor. He rattled off instructions to Martin, putting the young man in charge of getting everyone situated when they arrived. Providing their rooms had been cleaned, of course. The more they delved into the building, the more perfect it suited their purposes. Near as he could guess, it must have been a research facility at one time. Floors of apartments gave way to floors of labs and lecture spaces, even a couple of gyms and a large infirmary.
The further they explored, the more Garrus found himself excited to get things going, to see the space filled with life and bustle, all focused on one goal: defeating the Reapers.
The first of the team was walking into the lobby by the time he and Martin finished exploring. Garrus stopped dead as he disembarked the elevator on the first floor. In the time they'd been gone, the cleaners had worked their way to the second floor, leaving the lobby and first floor spotless and smelling of overpowering citrus and chemicals rather than rotting bodies.
"Wow," Liara said, walking in the front door, her arms filled with bags. "I thought we'd be beating off rats to get any sleep." She stopped and turned a circle. "This place looks great." She waved a delicate hand in front of her face. "Could use some airing out though."
"You think it's bad now," Martin said, popping the seal on his helmet and removing it, "you should have smelled the place a few hours ago."
Nihlus trotted past Garrus, heading down the stairs. "It's amazing what every cleaner on the rock can do armed with industrial solvent and incinerators."
"I'm certainly not going to complain," the asari said, laying down her burden. "We purchased pretty much every sheet, blanket, and towel on Omega. Any volunteers to help bring it all in?" She walked to the door, doing a graceful long, beckoning glance over her shoulder.
Nihlus and Martin set out after her, but she stopped just inside the door and turned back. "Oh, Garrus, I found something that belongs to you." Her lips curved into a sly, teasing smile, and then she turned, stepping outside.
She'd found something that belonged to him? Confused, he did a quick mental inventory. Scowling to himself, he tried to figure out what he'd dropped as he followed her out onto the bridge. His talons caught on the flat cement, and he lurched to a stop as a face so very like his own appeared above a moving pile of bags.
When the other turian spotted Garrus, he stopped, stared for a moment then bobbed his head to indicate his burden. "Give an old torin a hand?" his father asked.
Ashley elbowed Garrus on the way past. "Yeah, Garrus, what sort of son are you anyway?" She chuckled, then cursed as a package fell out of her arms.
"Serves you right," Garrus replied, but then waved her off when she tried to retrieve it. "I'll get it." He picked up her dropped package, watching her for a moment as he tried to catch up with her mood swings. When she walked in the door, he hurried to his father's side, lifting off more than half the load.
"Thank you, that's much better," his father said.
Unsure what to say, suddenly nervous faced with Herros Vakarian in the flesh, Garrus nodded, just managing to grunt, "You're welcome." Nodding his head toward the door, he cleared his throat, trying to work the tremor out of his second larynx. "In here." He led the way back into the base, feeling as though his father's stare heated the cowl on his back. Fleeing from it, he ran up the stairs, taking the pile of packages right up to the first floor.
He walked into the large room that made up his apartment, stopping just inside the door. It looked better clean. Much better. In fact, being a torin of simple needs, the bed, couches and small kitchen area looked absolutely perfect. A few personal touches and he'd be able to call it home. He smiled and nodded once, a decisive gesture of approval.
He felt his father's energy enter the space, the torin's well known tread on the tile, his scent—strong, masculine, and comforting—just registering over the cleaner.
"Where should I put these down?" Herros asked, following him inside.
"On the couches or bed is fine. I'm sure the sorting crew will be swooping down to get everything organized in a few minutes." He placed his burdens on the coffee table, then helped his father unload.
Herros stretched his shoulders until they cracked, then turned to face Garrus. After a moment of silence, he reached out and grasped Garrus by the shoulders. "You look good. How are you?"
Garrus grasped his father's shoulders, the embrace as intimate as turians got outside of pair bonding. He leaned in to touch his brow to Herros's, all the tension and awkwardness draining from him as his father returned the gesture. "I'm well." He straightened. "How are mother and Solana?"
Herros chuckled. "When I spoke to your mother last night she instructed me to answer that question with, 'If you called home more, you would know'." He released Garrus's arms, but didn't step back.
"Yeah, I have that coming," Garrus admitted, regret whispering softly. He and Shepard should be on Palaven now. He was supposed to be introducing his girlfriend to his family.
Herros sighed and reached up to grip Garrus's upper arm. "Both she and Sol also told me to tell you how sorry they are they didn't get a chance to know her. They were looking forward to your visit."
Garrus looked down, unsure what to do with his hands … or the rest of his body. In the end, he stepped back a pace, flipping a hand toward the apartment, deciding to change the subject to ease the awkwardness. "I've laid claim to this space. If you wish, you're welcome to share it while you're here."
Herros smiled, his mandibles flicking hard, and cleared his throat. "I'd like that." He strode to the open windows and looked out at the growing pile of merchandise and the accompanying growing crowd of people. "This is quite the … ." He shrugged and let out a dry, rumbling laugh. "What do you even call it? An organization? An operation?"
Garrus stepped up beside his father. After looking out for a moment, he closed his eyes and took long, slow breaths, immersing himself in his father's unique energy. His throat tightened and his hand lifted of its own accord to rest on the smaller torin's shoulder. He'd missed it. As much as he'd rebelled against the bulwark solidity of Herros Vakarian, without it … a … safety vanished from his life, an anchor that kept him moored even when he insisted on flying into the storm.
At one time, he lived for the days his father came home. He ran to the door, racing out to greet the skycar, insisting on carrying Herros's bags even though they dragged along the ground. During the infuriating minutes his parents spent greeting one another, sharing disgustingly soppy words and embraces, he ran to the caman to ensure he'd reached the correct solution to the mystery his father had left him the previous week. Every week the same, his father carried Solana into the caman and took his seat, a tumbler of ice-cold puala juice on the table in front of him. After an impossibly long silence, Herros always turned to Garrus's little sister and asked, "Well, did your big brother solve his case this week?"
A strong arm slipped around him. "It's an army," Herros said, as if finally deciding on the word. "When Shepard showed me that datapad … ." Garrus felt him shake his head. "Half of me wanted to throw it back at her and kick her out of my office. Denial was better than accepting the enormity of what we're facing. How could one woman—regardless of her brilliance or that of the team behind her—hope to prepare against an enemy like the Reapers, especially fighting the council the entire way?" A chuff followed that Garrus decided was self-deprecation, something he didn't even know his father could feel.
Garrus shrugged, but awe and respect flowed under the movement. "Shepard didn't know how to quit. She might complain the whole time she did it, but she just kept moving." He opened his eyes as he heard laughter from below, but looked over at his father. "And smart. Damn that woman was so sharp and so creative. Mind always working, planning." He stepped forward and looked down on the team as they trickled in, carrying packages and crates. "Kahri held her cards so close to the vest behind that crazy act that everyone underestimated her." Mandibles dropped, he flicked them once in a sad sort of half-smile. "Even me."
The team who'd been buying food fought to carry in their burdens while fending off curious hands trying to get into the packages. Anderson elbowed Martin out of the way as the young man ransacked his way through a crate. Garrus chuckled, his hand lifting toward the people below. "She brought together some remarkable people. We'll get it done, Pari. The other option is unacceptable."
Garrus grinned as Joker and Dr. Chakwas entered, the former covering his ears and humming tunelessly but at an ear-shattering volume while the latter tried to talk to him. The Normandy's pilot had refused to leave his ship even for a couple of days, but Garrus insisted, wanting them all under one roof. Unexpected and brilliant things could come of discussion between people who didn't usually spend much time talking, and they needed all the unexpected brilliance they could get.
After a moment of comfortable silence, his father spoke softly, "Your Kahri was remarkable, Garrus. Almost got me sent to IA on sexual harassment charges … but remarkable." Herros reached up and stroked a hand down the back of Garrus's neck then pulled away. "Come, let's go down and help get this place sorted. We have a few long days ahead, and she's expecting us to work miracles."