17 Days ASR

"Have a good morning, General," Marcie called as Garrus pushed up from the table.

He cast a baleful glare her way. A good morning? Right. After being ambushed by an overzealous house matron, Dr. Chakwas, and enough food to feed three growing juveniles, he doubted very much the agony in his barely healed and over-distended stomach would fade before mid-afternoon. He wrapped an arm around his middle to provide traction, then limped toward the elevator.

Aid my healing. Right. How does eating until I feel like my entire digestive tract is going to explode aid my healing?

Garrus pushed his way against the early morning crowd, trying to clear a path to the stairs. Not an easy task through the starving throng. He stopped at the end of the counter and looked over the common room. A faint smile greeted the groan of dismay from the crowd as he blocked the chow line. In Archangel's two cycles he'd never seen so many people stuffed into the small space. He clenched his fists a couple of times as his internal alarm went off, an electrical tingle rolling down his spine and into his arms. Too many people. He needed his sidearm. Why had he left his room without his sidearm?

Relax Vakarian, you're used to crowds.

"Where did all these recruits come from?" he asked out loud, trying to shake off the feeling that the room shrank around him and enemies hid everywhere. "I thought we rejected cloning as a means of recruiting."

Martin appeared at his elbow, a huge grin on his face. "Well, some of them are thanks to Zaeed. He took out the late Donovan Hock's second in command last week, and … um … " He cleared his throat. "... encouraged the entire organization to join up."

"Excuse me, sir?" a human woman called from Garrus's left. "My first class starts in twenty minutes." She shrugged and grinned. "Unless you're willing to write us all late passes?"

"As you were, cadet." He gave her a quick wink, appreciating her casual pluck, and stepped out of the way. "That's far more paperwork than I intend to do today." Setting out for the stairs, he shook his head. "Hock's people can't account for this. We're going to have to open building three and hire more instructors."

"The rest are Talons." Martin met Garrus's incredulous stare with a nod. "Apparently they experienced a change in leadership, and she sent them all here."

Garrus set out for the elevator. The press of bodies all pushing in different directions felt a little too out of control. So many bodies. Too many to easily see an incoming threat. The faint tingle exploded into a fist hammering at the inside of his keel. Office. He needed to get to his office and quiet. He had a massive list of things he needed to deal with before shipping out for the Citadel and Tuchanka.

Stay focused on the work, Vakarian. Calm the hell down and just stay focused.

As he pushed through to the bottom of the stairs, his elbow clipped a large human recruit, sending the man stumbling. He turned to steady the cadet, taking note that the man had yet to exchange his merc armour for the Archangel uniform. It belonged to a small organization Archangel wiped out a month earlier. Most of the merc's co-workers chose to die rather than surrender.

"Sorry—" Garrus said and reached out to help him regain his footing.

"Watch where you're fucking going, bloody bird." The man threw off Garrus's hand, shoving him away. "Fucking base is full of you bastards … think you bloody own the place."

A streak of movement and fury tore past Garrus's elbow. Martin grabbed the merc by the throat and slammed him against the wall, one frame-gauntleted hand crushing the armour at the man's throat. Garrus grabbed the pauldron of the kid's armour, pulling him back, grateful for the distraction … the chance to focus on something outside his head, even if it was keeping Martin from pummelling an idiot.

Glaring up with enough rage to drain all the blood from his captive's face, practically growling, Martin said, "That bird does own the place." He let the merc slide down the wall enough to make direct eye contact. "When this organization wiped out the rest of your useless merc band, he made you an offer, gave you a place to work and call home, and this is how you thank him? By demeaning everyone, especially the humans, with your racial shit?"

Grey and trembling, the man patted Martin's arm, an ineffectual, placating gesture. "N … no, s … sir. My apologies, General V … Vakarian, sir. I'm sorry. I spoke without thinking."

"General!" the rough brogue of the cavalry shouted over the ambient racket. Garrus threw a glance over his shoulder at Butler—the wiry man shoving his way through the crowd with much less finesse, but also much less offence than Garrus had managed—before focusing back on Martin. He eased the young man back. "Put him down. I can take it from here."

The general stared into the merc's gasping face, meeting and holding his watery, bloodshot stare for a moment before he turned to Butler. "Instructor Butler," he called, making sure his voice would project all the way to the kitchen. "It seems that we have recruited a cadet who does not appreciate the racial diversity of this organization. I'm sure you'll discover several inventive ways to educate him in the benefits of cooperation and respect."

Gabe clamped down on the armour at the merc's neck and dragged him off a couple of meters before calling back. "Hierarch Vakarian was looking for you, and Sidonis is on hold on the QEC." He shrugged when Garrus raised a brow plate in query. "Must be important, but he wouldn't say why."

"Tell my pari I'm headed for my office. I've got a couple weeks of catching up to get done in six hours." He spun on his talons and strode for the elevator, his path clearing as if by some magical means. Throwing recruits around the place: the new magic. His mandibles gave a hard, ironic flick. Why hadn't he thought to use it sooner? "He can catch up with me there."

"Will do, General."

"Your kit packed?" Garrus asked, stepping into the elevator just ahead of Martin. As the doors closed, he hit the control.

"Already on my bunk aboard the Passch," Martin confirmed, moving up to block the door.

Much to Garrus's amusement and chagrin, the kid had appointed himself bodyguard the moment the general emerged from medbay.

"I've scheduled the department head briefing in the main QEC for 0930," Martin continued. "The leader of the Talons asked to meet with you as soon as you were back to work. Do you want me to try to get her in before we leave?"

Garrus frowned and leaned back against the wall. He didn't know how to feel about their sudden wealth of recruits. A major merc operation like the Talons asking to be absorbed into Archangel … it sent up flares. "Yeah, give us at least a half hour block of time. I want to make sure we aren't bringing the enemy into the fold en masse before I leave."

That thought raised a great many questions. "How long have the Talons been here? Are they integrating? Behaving themselves?"

Martin nodded and twisted to look back, his eyebrows climbing. "Yeah, actually. Their instructors and roommates—because it's crowded as fuck in the dorms—report that they're eager to learn and friendly." He shrugged, then turned back to the door as the elevator chimed their arrival. "Apparently their boss is very into the whole protector of the weak and helpless thing."

"A gang leader? Protecting the helpless?" Garrus cocked a brow plate and a hip. "On Omega?"

The doors opened, leaving Martin only enough time to shrug before he pushed out first, braced as if he expected to take fire. Garrus just let out a long, patient sigh and shook his head. As much as he appreciated the young man's worry, having a constant bodyguard wore thin.

"Garrus, you're going to mother-hen me to death."

He nodded at the frustration laced through Shepard's voice, comprehension dawning.

A cluster of engineering staff blocked most of the corridor just outside the main lab. What looked like members from every department stood around wearing expressions of almost morbid curiosity as they conferred in low tones about the work going on within. Garrus stepped around them, pausing to watch the geth who bustled around Legion's platform.

Most of the geth salvaged from Daro'Xen's nightmare had chosen to upload back to Rannoch, but Legion insisted on its platform being repaired as close to original specs as possible. Although slow, delicate work, the geth and Archangel engineers had made solid headway. The geth had expressed confusion about Legion's choice, but Garrus couldn't help thinking that the programs identifying with their platform was a good thing. Perhaps a first step toward a visceral comprehension of the mortality faced by the rest of the galaxy.

"All right people," Garrus called over the murmured conversation, "if you can help put Legion back together, walk through the door and volunteer. Everyone else, get back to your own projects. The Reapers aren't standing around gossiping." He waited until the crowd dispersed then continued down the corridor to his office.

"They could be," Martin said, a wide grin answering Garrus's glare as the kid ran ahead to get the door.

"Answer that damned QEC," Vortash barked even before Garrus made it over the threshold. "It pings every five seconds. I don't want to kill whoever it is, but I will." The batarian held out a handful of datapads. "Operations sent these down. They need to be approved before you leave. The aeronautics division has asked for a meeting to discuss the design changes needed to offset the security leaks and stolen vehicles."

He held out a second stack of datapads. "These are everything needed to get building three operational so we can peel some of these recruits out of our ass cracks. Fifteen hundred new bodies … we're going to collapse under the weight without the new building."

"And good morning to you." Garrus stared at the stack. "Didn't I create Operations so that I avoided doing most of these things?" He nodded for Martin to grab the datapads, then brushed past. "When my pari arrives, send him in."

"The guards downstairs called again," the batarian bellowed through the closing door. "She's insisting on talking to you. And the admiralty board called wanting to discuss her storage."

Garrus whirled around, one hand slapping against the door to stop it from shutting. "Her what?"

Vortash shrugged, looking back to his computer. "Their word, not mine."

"Storage," Martin grumbled. "Only one place to store that lunatic; in the center of a star."

Garrus nodded his agreement as he turned toward his desk. The admiralty board would have to figure out what to do with their own monster. He didn't have to facilities or personnel to maintain a long term prisoner. He froze halfway around, his eyes locking onto his galaxy map. During the weeks he'd been missing or convalescing, four red dots had multiplied to seven.

"Is this right?" he shouted over his shoulder.

The door opened, Vortash sticking his head through. "Is what right?" When Garrus stabbed a talon toward the map, the batarian nodded. "Yeah, afraid it is. And yes, still all human colonies." He nodded toward the door to Garrus's QEC comm room as a sharp chime rang out. "Might be why that fucking thing keeps pinging."

"Right." He stared at the map for another couple of seconds, then dragged himself away. The map didn't have any answers, just more questions. "Just drop the datapads on the desk, Martin. Then go drag Nihlus out of bed, get him to Mordin, and then fed. I need him at the department briefing."

"I'll do my best, but when I went in earlier, he just threw dirty laundry at me until I left." The kid set down his burden. "I'm not sure Nihlus is going to bounce back from this one, General."

"Giving up on him ensures that he doesn't, so that's the last I want to hear of that." Garrus entered his security code to his QEC, tossing his words over his shoulder far more casually than he felt. As much as he agreed that being turned into a lab animal may have broken Nihlus, he needed to deny it. He had no other choice ... for his own sake. "Do whatever you have to, but get him up and to that meeting."

Without waiting to hear any more, he stepped through the door, meeting Martin's stare with one that clearly said, 'Just get it done', as it closed behind him. He locked it then turned and stepped up to the console. Three calls awaited his arrival.

"Garrus, finally. Thank the spirits," Sidonis snapped the moment his hologram appeared. "Our Enoch shipyard has been destroyed and two more frigates have disappeared." He lunged toward the console. "In addition, there have been reports of movement in Satent and Nirada, too damned close to our weapon testing grounds. We can't afford to lose the Zaherin facility."

Garrus waited for the torin to stutter to a stop before trying to get a word in. "Any clues as to who or how?" he asked. No doubt the same people responsible for Haestrom. So, definitely not Daro'Xen and definitely not a random strike by pirates.

"No clues except those orbs seeded throughout the building. We didn't take any chances and just blew the crap out of them." Sidonis shuddered, very obviously shaken to the core. "If I never have to face down another one of those things, it'll be too damned soon. I went through nearly ten doses of Mordin's countermeasure and still have nightmares." His subvocals broadcast the truth behind that statement, but then calm passed over his features as he policed up his emotions. "Someone is trying to tear Archangel apart, General, and whoever they are, they're as good as invisible. If we don't provide our divisions with better security, the enemy is going to succeed."

"Understood, Sidonis. Contact each facility, full security status reports. I want to know if any of them feel threatened. I want their estimates on what it will take both personnel and ship-wise to make their station secure." He paused, letting his brain run the variables for a moment. "And I want your recommendation as to which bases are the weakest. We can't wait for these bastards to come after us, we have to take the fight to them." He reached for the interface. "Have all that ready for 0930, so we can figure out how we're going to deal with the threat."

Sidonis saluted. "Yes, sir. Sidonis out."

Leaving the waiting calls on hold, Garrus reached up to his radio and opened a channel to the Biolab. "Mordin? What's the word on those orbs taken off the Haestrom shipyard?"

"General," the salarian replied. "Believe objects to be probes allowing for remote observation and control of indoctrinated subjects. Hypothesise that orbs relay indoctrination signal from host, likely Reapers. Require further testing to confirm hypothesis. Risky. Participants subject to indoctrination, brain damage, possible violent or self-destructive behaviour."

If the orbs just relayed the indoctrination signal, they might be able to trace an origin. "What do you need to get us some real answers on this?" he demanded. "We can guess at what they are all we want, but these damned things keep showing up in our facilities, and our people keep disappearing. I think some risks are warranted here."

"Best chance for answers to isolate indoctrinated subjects with orb, monitor for energy fluctuations, transmissions."

Garrus turned his stare to the floor. "We have a limited pool of people who have already been exposed to the orbs. Call them in and see if they'll volunteer. I won't force anyone to endure that against their will. Full security and containment precautions."

"Understood, General. Will transmit protocols to Passchendaele for approval when prepared."

"Send them to Dr. Chakwas as well." Garrus paced the few metres to the door and then back to the console. "Any theories as to why Martin isn't affected by the orbs?" Twice the kid had been exposed to the orbs without showing any symptoms.

"Likely due to indoctrination signal being relayed using light frequencies. Mr. Weaver's prosthetics intercept and translate all incoming wavelengths." Mordin paused, and Garrus could just about hear the gears spinning up. "Yes. Yes. Need to devise means of analyzing filtering system. Prosthetics may eliminate indoctrination signal as junk data. Could lead to optical defense measures." The scientist's voice increased in both volume and pitch, his words coming faster and faster until Garrus could barely understand him. Then he went silent. "Mr. Weaver accompanying you to Citadel? Tuchanka?"

"He is." Garrus grinned at the silence that followed. "I'll have him report to you after the department briefing." He reached up to close the channel. "You'll be attending, I trust?"

"I will. Solus out."

Garrus checked the identity of his next call, letting out a relieved sigh as he hit the control and Tali appeared before him.

"Garrus, thank the ancestors," the young quarian said. She stared at him for a few seconds before her shoulders dropped. "You're all right?"

He nodded. "As all right as can be expected." He jutted his chin toward her image. "How about you? Things settling down on Rannoch?"

"Yes. The geth have returned to the village and to our suits." She giggled. "It was really amazing, actually … seeing everyone reunite. They missed each other. It's a good sign for the future. I wished you'd been here."

He nodded and forced a smile. "Yeah, me too."

For the next few minutes, she brought him up to date on the quarian return to their homeworld. Apparently, the migrant fleet had returned to the system as well and, despite a rigid defensive posture, was sending survey and biological/environmental expeditions to the surface. Garrus signed off, shaking his head. Maybe, in all her insanity, Daro'Xen had actually accelerated the repatriation of her people rather than halting it.

He connected the last call, wincing a little as Melanis appeared on the pad. He didn't give the asari time to speak. "I see we've lost another three colonies since I left for Rannoch."

The asari looked down, as if the disappearing humans were somehow her fault. "They're getting bolder. At both Arvuna and New Canton we had good lead times, and still nothing but a ghost town awaited when we arrived. We're spread out too much to do anything even if we did catch them at it, General. The numbers or tech they have to possess to remove millions of people in a few hours … how are a couple of frigates and a platoon of soldiers supposed to stop them?"

He stiffened. "You're not. That's not why we're out there, Melanis. We're trying to discover what is happening to the humans. I've always known we're going to need a fleet to bring down whoever it is. Spirits, ships large enough to take all those humans … ." He let out a breath and relaxed into parade rest. "You can return to base. I'll be sending Nihlus back out this afternoon, and I need you here. We just had nearly fifteen hundred recruits land in our laps. I need them trained and equipped and out guarding Archangel holdings." He stepped up to the console. "Department briefing in about forty minutes. Be on your way back."

He heard the door open behind him. Damn, Martin was getting too good at bypassing.

She saluted. "Yes, sir." She winked and lifted a hand. "Hey kid."

"Hey, Melanis." Martin hung back by the door until Garrus hung up the call. "The Talon leader is in your office."

Garrus turned and let out a long breath as he sagged back against the console. His chest ached and the long incisions around his thighs burned. He swore he could feel every screw and rivet Dr. Chakwas had embedded into his bones to reinforce them while they healed. Maybe she'd been right and it was too soon. Not that the galaxy cared. It didn't put a pin in going to hell until Garrus Vakarian felt up to fixing every single fucking thing.

"You look like hell, General."

Nodding, Garrus pushed off the QEC. "You got Nihlus up?"

"Yep. I just needed to say that three more colonies had disappeared, and he dragged himself into the shower on his own." Martin leaned back against the door. "Pretty sure Mordin replaced most of Nihlus's blood with Oxhydran, but he's sober and in the kitchen trying to keep food down." Meeting Garrus's gaze with an expression that spoke to the depth of his feelings for the Spectre as well as the depth of his worry, he said, "He can't take too many more hits, Garrus. What happened to the two of you … ." He looked away, his hands doing a little helpless flip at the ends of his arms as he swallowed hard. "It would do me in."

Garrus stepped up and laid his hand on Martin's shoulder. "You've been through hell too, kid, and you came out strong." He took a deep breath. "All right, enough wallowing, let's go meet this Talon leader and see what the deal is." He palmed the door control. "Nice work hacking your way through. I'm going to have to start layering the encryption."

Martin laughed and cocked his head, swaggering a little as he brushed past Garrus to enter the office first. "You can try, old man. I'm too fast for you."

"Not sure if that's comforting or not," a smooth, feminine voice said. The subvocals ran deep, baritone, and amused.

Garrus stepped through the door then stopped so suddenly that his talons caught on the door track. Standing on the other side of the desk, a female turian stared at him, her mandibles drifting out a bit before giving an amused flutter.

"General Vakarian?" she asked, her brow plates lifting a little when he just gawked at her.

He shook himself, and stepped forward, his head ducking a little by way of apology. "I'm sorry, when they told me the leader of the Talons wanted to meet with me, I didn't think it was going to be a Kandros." He forced himself to stop staring into her remarkable light gold-green eyes, and stabbed an awkward hand at the closest chair. "Sit, please." He took a couple of steps toward the desk. "It's Nyreen, correct? You were two cycles behind me at the academy."

Martin stepped up and offered his hand. "My name's Martin Weaver, and I'm pleased to meet you." He shot a glare at Garrus that carried a promise that a great deal of teasing awaited him once Nyreen Kandros moved out of earshot. The tarin took the kid's hand and shook twice before releasing him.

"Yes," Garrus said, "Mr. Weaver is my left hand." He stepped behind his desk, but didn't sit.

"Martin Weaver, former resident of the Mission Rehabilitation Facility on the Citadel. Injured assisting then Lt. Jane Shepard in the defense of Illyria during the Skyllian Blitz." She gave him a perfunctory nod before turning her attention back to Garrus. She met his stare for a moment, before tilting her head in a slightly dismissive nod. "I have researched everyone of note within your organization, General." She shrugged as if to dispel any negative implications, a casual pop of her elbows and shoulders.

"And the reason for such a thorough investigation?" Garrus settled into his chair.

Again that tiny shrug. "Should be obvious, I'd think." A light sigh rumbled from her throat, heavy on sorrow and resignation. "The people of this station have endured a great deal over the cycles. A new, extremely well-funded merc organization moves in, I want to know who I'm dealing with. In short, I wanted to be sure you weren't something else these people would need to endure."

"The Talons have forced this station to endure their presence and criminal activity for decades," Garrus countered, leaning back and trying to hide the flinch as his spine let out a screech. "What changed?"

"I am not so powerful, well-connected, or wealthy that I can simply walk in somewhere and take over," Nyreen said, her voice soft but haughty and defensive. She shifted a little, leaning forward with her elbows on the arms of her seat. Those remarkable eyes never moved from his, holding him with the passion, almost fervour in her stare. "I needed to work my way up. I had … " She cleared her throat. "... previous entanglements that proved a hurdle to my acceptance within the Talons."

"Like sleeping with Aria?" Martin blurted. Eyebrows raised, an expression of completely guileless curiosity on his face, the kid looked back and forth between them. A pleasant smile met the Talon leader's stiffened spine. "Your people are a chatty bunch."

Garrus bit down on a grin. Score one for the kid.

"Yes … as I was saying, I needed to earn trust, work my way up through the organization until I reached a position where I exerted enough influence to compel change." She let out a long breath that rumbled like a thunderstorm through her second larynx, layering it with begrudging respect. "Then a few months back, Archangel rewarded my patience and preparation when it eliminated my predecessor. Since then, I have watched your organization, weighed the tides flowing through Omega, and here we are." A more dramatic, full body shrug followed her words, elegant mandibles easing out and down then pulling tight again.

"Since Archangel started applying pressure, the Suns and Blood Pack are moving deeper and deeper into the Talons' territory," Martin said, keeping the gang leader on the ropes. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and stared into Kandros's face. "Things are going to get ugly on this station in the next year. There's a gang war coming that isn't going to end well for any of the gangs." Raising his eyebrows, he tilted his chin up, challenging her. "You know it, I know it, and the general knows it, because it's going to be him finishing up the purge."

"My less than subtle assistant is asking if you're just here to hide away, soak up our training, learn our tech, and then run back out there to fill the void when I've scoured every last gang member from this rock?" Garrus rested his forearms on the desktop and watched her, searching for any signs of deception, not surprised to come up empty.

The Kandros family was military as far back as turians kept records. Rigid but honourable, members of the family including Nyreen's father, grandfather, and aunt had earned some of Palaven's highest honours for service. He'd admired Nyreen's natural talent for war back in the academy, but didn't know her other than to nod in passing. Her brother had been in Garrus's year and excelled in a way that drew him a great deal of praise and a great deal of envy. In every way, he'd eclipsed his younger sister.

Nyreen chuffed, a harsh cough of derision. "I'm not here to hide myself away until the bigger predators have cleared out the scavengers. I have no taste for carrion, General. Archangel appears to be living up to its ideals … my ideals for Omega. Rather than sacrifice my people to the scavengers when their war begins, I would see them turned into something better." She straightened in her chair, arching her neck, proud but not arrogant. "Have I come to the wrong place?"

Garrus shook his head, a crooked smile making one mandible flutter. He studied her for another few seconds, all his alarms staying silent, his gut calm and sure. "No. No, you haven't. Welcome to Archangel, Nyreen Kandros."

(A-N: Hey there. Thanks so much all those who weighed in on my concerns about the story last chapter. I appreciate the support. This chapter went on for enough words to make two chapters, so there will be another coming out within a day or so. Things are starting to heat up, new forces joining Archangel, old forces trying to tear it apart, and humans are disappearing. (place melancholy cello music here.)

Thanks to those who reviewed. Always much appreciated. Yellohead, tymofey, Lady Velvet C Peterson, dracohalo117, CordovanLily, imjusttori, Late Nite Reader, RoaringGamer, Nogoodnms, 5 Coloured Walker, KrystylSky and Alpenwolf. Onward. So much to do.)