Fratrin - Brother, but one of honour, friendship, or of oath rather than one of blood relation. Refers to the bond of karifratrus.
Mabul - The turian equivalent of the expletive 'fuck'. Mabulan is the equivalent of the -ing version of 'fuck'.
Lautus - (turian) cocky, arrogant, and/or self-important. Concerned about self-image.
Soluvermus - A small (average size 8-12 cms/1-2 cms diameter), heavily armoured earthworm native to Palaven's more northern and southern regions.
Stulti mendur - Literal: foolish lies. Vernacular: Bullshit. Short form: Stulti
Tarc - Vulgar expletive equivalent to shit.
Verro - Husband, male bond-mate. Dilan - fiancee
Caris - Beloved, precious, cherished
81 Days ASR
Nihlus didn't often dream, although according to Shepard he spent most of his sleeping hours twitching. Perhaps he just forgot more than ninety-nine percent of the dreams that haunted his nights. Just as well, he didn't need to relive his past, his failures, or his fears while asleep; they consumed far too much of his life while awake.
That night, warm waves of love and belonging washed over and cradled him as he descended into the black. Soft notes of song swirled around him, a symphony of colour, scent, and taste. A weight pressed in against his chest, soft and comforting in his arms. When it shifted, he realized he still held Shepard in his arms, their bodies entangled just as they'd been when he fell asleep.
Ribbons of colour tangled around them, bursts of puala fruit and then sapara sugar, tart and sweet in turn: the first a spring-green coupled with a low, sonorous note, the second a vivid pink-red, its pitch so high it vibrated through Nihlus's teeth.
"Amalair." Shepard's delighted thought brushed his mind, her brilliant, shimmering blue sweet and strong and filled with music. "It's Amalair."
Before he could define all the nuances of his dilan's essence, a decayed yellow, bitter and putrid, sprang out of the restful shadows. Writhing serpents of rot wrapped around them, tighter every moment. Shepard groaned, a low sort of mewl, and writhed in his arms. Perhaps she tried to rouse herself from sleep, struggling to escape the dream's grasp.
"Amalair?" He leaned in to nuzzle his dilan's ear, driving back the terror gnawing at his heart in order to comfort his caris. Looking up, he searched for the rachni queen, shouting into the maelstrom of colour, stench, and sound. "What are you doing? You're hurting her! Stop!"
A cool, blue-green light exploded through the dreamscape, replacing the sour decay, and for a moment, jewel-encrusted, glowing caves appeared around them. Vaulted, naturally formed citadels, the caves rose so far overhead that they disappeared into the hazy luminescence. Ancient, thick roots crawled down the walls, gnarled pillars of life decorating the walls.
"It's a cathedral," Shepard whispered, breaking free of Nihlus's grip. She pointed toward a high shelf of rock and the being standing at the edge, indistinct amidst the glow. "Rachni. It's their home." Tilting her head back, she took a deep breath then shook her head. "But we're not on Ilos. I can't feel any trace of the protheans or inusannon."
A soft, khaki coloured note that smelled of good, clean soil and tasted of spice drifted down on them, but the song echoed in a voice that Nihlus didn't recognize. In fact, he couldn't pick individual voices from the chorus, each so perfectly timed and harmonized that they sang as one. A million, million shades of song built and resonated, and he knew Shepard spoke true: they didn't dream of Ilos.
The cave before them—a cathedral far grander than even the asari temples—belonged to a more ancient time, a time before the first protheans hunted on their home planet … no, even older … a time before—
"The reapers aren't anything more than an idea," Garrus said, his voice excited with epiphany, but his subvocals resonated low and as ancient as the cavern: the voice of an oracle. "The rachni existed even before the reapers."
His fratrin's presence felt so natural within the dream that it took Nihlus a moment to register the anomaly. He normally wandered his rare—usually nightmarish—dreamscapes alone.
The khaki-coloured song turned a sharp, silver-blue as the voices rose, the frequency lancing along each nerve fibre, spurring his entire body to sing to its tune. He felt the same warble and trill resonating through Shepard's flesh where they touched. She stepped away from Nihlus, walking so close to the ledge's lip that she stood upon its breath.
"It's not Amalair's hive," Shepard said, "but her ancient ancestors'." Holding out her arms, a fledgling who believes it can fly before its feathers have grown in, she threw her head back as if she could absorb the lessons of the past through her skin. "Why did you bring us here?" She shook her head and then dropped her chin, her head cocking as it did when she puzzled through some auditory riddle. He wondered if she heard something in the music, or if what grabbed her lay beneath it. "Why sing of this?" Her voice plucked a frantic sympathetic note within Nihlus as she continued, "Why these riddles? Are we supposed to learn something?"
Nihlus shivered, a single, piercing note of the putrid yellow shattering the glow. The soured song corrupted the citadel, beautiful blue-green diseased, the good rock and roots decaying, flesh sloughing off their bones. Creatures swarmed into the cave, their twisted forms unlike anything he'd seen before, but definitely reaper-ized.
Forgetting that he remained submersed in a dream, Nihlus leaped to the edge and looked down, trying to gauge how big a jump it would take to get into the fight. Too far. Too mabulan far. Shepard grabbed his hand, clinging to him as the reapers swept through the cavern, a blur of horror as they killed or captured the rachini. The beautiful cave dissolved into poisonous ruin.
"Failure to purge rachni infestation." As it spoke, the sonorous voice wiped the slate clean, the cave cathedral-like in its beauty once more but different: rebuilt rather than restored.
"The next cycle," Shepard said, her voice crystalline, rising clean and strong into the invisible heights of the cave.
"What is she trying to show us?" Garrus asked, joining them at the edge. He tipped his chin toward the high ledge opposite them, the queen still there. Perhaps it was Amalair.
"All queens sing the same song, the harmonies ageless and pure, sung to their daughters safely curled in their eggs ... their beautiful daughters." Even as the queen's eerie, layered voice echoed through Nihlus's head, the decay swept through once again. Different than the ones from the cycle before, the monsters remained easily recognized as reapers.
The queen's voice dripped acid-reds, and deep green-black as she continued, "The daughters carry the knowledge forward and back, all connected ... life shifting, ever-changing."
"It's all webs," Shepard whispered, drawing his stare to her face. The wounds gleamed red, her skin a pale blue and translucent in the light. "I understand, at least a little. All queens share all the knowledge; a well so deep it circles back on itself. The rachni don't see time the same way we do, because their past and their future is all known through their mothers and daughters."
Nihlus arched a brow plate, his confusion manifesting as a shadowy fog drifting before his eyes. "They know the future? How?"
Before Shepard answered, the deep, terrible voice spoke. "Rachni infestation remains," it repeated, the cave resetting, but different once again.
Faster and faster, the cycles passed, all basically the same. Sometimes other races helped the rachni fight the reapers back, and sometimes the rachni left behind their peaceful songs to become warriors and build great armies. Each time they fell, their civilization falling to rot and ruin. At the end of each cycle, the same voice declared the rachni infection remained unpurged.
"They're like a computer worm that replicates and disappears into so many computers that you can never completely chase it down and eliminate it," Garrus said, his voice expressing the same respect and dread Nihlus felt. "They might be the oldest living memory in the entire galaxy, contemporaries with whomever created the reapers."
Shepard grinned up at Nihlus even as she reached out to grip Garrus's hand. "Why do the rachni stay?" Shepard called out, her attention riveted back on the distant queen. His dilan's body angled over the void, as if she could will herself to the other side. "Surely you have the technical capability to leave this galaxy, go somewhere the reapers can't tear down everything you build and send your people to the edge of extinction."
A cheery sound manifested as a rainbow of soft, transparent colours, ringing defiance above the rot and death of another reaper harvest. Nihlus compared the experience to hearing the crystal bells ring out from atop the Temple of the Ancients in Cipritine. Even having experienced Amalair's presence in his mind, it took Nihlus a couple of moments to recognize the sound as laughter.
"We wait," that impossibly huge voice answered.
"For?" The question spilled from his mouth before Shepard could voice it, earning him a cocked eyebrow and a crooked grin.
"You."
A shrill cry of alarm shattered his curiosity, his demand for clarity dying before making it through his larynges. Images, colours, sounds, and smells tore through his senses far too quickly to assign a name to any of them, but when the deluge faded, his sinuses and behind his eyes burned as if he'd inhaled caustic gas.
Nausea flowed into the vacuum left behind, leaving Nihlus reeling. A wall of murky green-browns seethed with veins of noisome black, his olfactory system drowned in rot … the sweet stench of fruit and the indescribable reek of decaying flesh. He gagged, his stomach tying in knots and shoving its way up his throat.
Swallowing so hard that it echoed inside his skull, Nihlus nearly missed the queen's distressed cry. "The needle-men call! They sing your desires to lure you through blighted seas and gnashing jaws, but the notes ring holl—"
The cave vanished into a comforting half-darkness, the song into the throbbing hum of life support equipment and engines, the crisp fragrances of mineral and water into the familiar spice and flora of his dilan and fratrin. Body weighed down by sleep, Nihlus kept his eyes shut tight against the disappointment of waking. What did the queen mean when she said the rachni had been waiting for them? Not possessed of enough arrogance to believe that the queen meant only him, he wanted the chance to press for more. Why would the rachni wait for millions of cycles? How could they know three such disparate people would come together? Did what the queen said mean they'd win … defeat the reapers at long last?
Tarc, they needed to go back.
Shepard shifted in Nihlus's embrace, scattering his thoughts. She stretched long and lithe, an ungentira rousing. He clung to her. Just a handful of moments longer, dear spirits, why could the universe never allow them that much?
One of Shepard's arms wriggled free of his grip—leave it to his impossible woman to insist they wake … what time was it, anyway? She yawned, stretching again before, "Yeah. Shepard." In the space between heartbeats, her breathing changed from the calm of sleep to alert. "When?" She paused long enough for Nihlus to scent alarm even as her body tensed and her heart began to race. "Right, we'll be down in the briefing room in ten. We'll need Mordin and Dr. Chakwas to meet us there." Another pause, during which she twisted loose enough to get an elbow propped up under her. "Right. Shepard, out."
Nihlus groaned and flopped over toward his back. "What time is it?" Judging by his eyelids' complete lack of interest in opening, they'd been in bed fewer than four hours.
"Too early," Garrus replied, a long growling groan rolling across the bed. "What's going on?"
"Miranda. The Illusive Man is waiting on the QEC. There's news on the collector ship front." She leaned over Nihlus, her scent sweet, her skin warm as she kissed his temple. "Up you get, lazybones." After tickling his cheek with the tip of her nose, she disappeared.
"Fine." He forced his eyes open, his mandibles fluttering when he saw Shepard draped across an inert Garrus, jabbing him with her elbows and knees as she climbed over.
"Ouch, dammit, woman, your elbows aren't exactly pillows," the general said, his complaint prompting evil cackling from Shepard.
"Then get up before I have to crawl over you." She kissed Garrus, a loud smack of lips against his cheek, then jumped up and dashed for the head. "I need to pee, and you were between me and the toilet, General Slugarian."
"How long have you been saving that one up?" Garrus asked, humour-filled subvocals belying the crankiness of his words.
Shepard spun around at the top of the stairs, jogging backwards toward the head. "Since you refused to read to me using different voices for the characters. You'll pay for that one for the rest of ever and always." She reached up to her ear as she turned back around. "Hey, Jack, get your gorgeous ass down to the briefing room in ten minutes. Bring your very best behaviour and your most intimidating snarl. See yah down there. Shepard, out." As the door whispered shut behind her, his Jane began to sing under her breath. "My captain's back, and there's going to be trouble. Hey la, hey la, my captain's back."
Garrus cursed under his breath, pulling Nihlus attention to the other side of the bed. "If I ever go back to C-Sec, remind me to pencil in a law about being cheerful too early in the mornings." He yawned, smacking his jaws a couple of times as he stretched. "Praise the spirits that Shepard manages to wake up grumpy most days."
Nihlus chuckled and rolled less-than-fluidly to his feet, staggering a little when he straightened. Dear spirits, who replaced all his cartilage with the crap that built up in dark alley corners? Judging by the chorus of crunching and crackling that travelled the length of his body as he stretched, the responsible parties had clocked some overtime. Every vertebrae in his spine snapped like someone dancing on bubble wrap.
"Getting old, Spectre," Garrus said, grinning up at Nihlus from the flat of his back: a new position allowed by the turian mattress, the depth enough to cradle their cowls and spines comfortably. As if the general could read Nihlus's mind, he stretched again, letting out a long moan of contentment. After another moment, he swung up onto his feet in one, smooth motion—no doubt for Nihlus's benefit. The impact lessened ever so slightly when one of Garrus's hips popped loud enough that Shepard hollered from the bathroom, asking what happened.
"Garrus was trying to be lautus and hurt himself," Nihlus supplied through a taunting little chuckle.
The door to the head opened. "Aw, what happened to my verro?" Shepard hurried across the cabin and down the stairs as she shrugged into her blue hoodie. She zipped it up just before she reached Garrus. One hand on his hip, the other against his cheek, she stared up into his eyes. "You all right, caris?"
Garrus wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her. "I am now."
"Dear spirits," Nihlus grumbled without any heat, a grin belying his words. "He tries to make me feel old and crippled with his showing off, and he gets all the sympathy." Setting his neck at an indignant arch, he spun away from their embrace and strode to the closet. "There's no justice in this cold, cruel galaxy."
When Shepard spoke, her voice sang with humour, "Now, Garrus, you know how delicate my sweet cikabeknai is about his rapidly increasing age and infirmity. You need to show respect and compassion for the elderly."
"True. After I get dressed, I'll get his walker ready for the briefing." Garrus kissed her again, their breathing betraying the length and depth of the kiss. "Mmmmm, good morning, kahri."
Another kiss. "Good morning, Callor. You better get your butt moving before Miranda loses her shit."
Nihlus's hand stalled halfway to his underarmour, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Did she ask for all of us?" he asked, dubious in the extreme.
"Well, no, she asked for me but I'm part of a unit, so it's us, or the Illusive Man can stick his big news up the butt of his fancy, overpriced suit." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, melting into Garrus's arms for a few seconds. Nihlus turned back to give them what small amount of privacy the cabin offered.
"All right. Get moving, General." A gentle slap, Shepard smacking Garrus on his backside no doubt, coaxed Nihlus's smile wider, a warm, peaceful wave washing over him. Only a few weeks after he dreamed up how life between the three of them would look, there it was, manifest and as wonderful as he hoped.
Hearing Shepard approaching him from behind, Nihlus snapped his mandibles tight against his mouth. Gentle hands rested on his hip bones for a moment before sliding around in front of him, one resting on his stomach, the other on his chest. Shepard leaned into him, her hoodie fleecy against his hide.
"Can I help you?" he asked, closing his eyes to savour her softness and the sharp peppermint of her toothpaste.
"Good morning," she whispered and rested her cheek against his cowl. "You all right?"
He turned in her arms to embrace her. "Could have used a couple more hours sleep, but other than that, fine." Bending, he brushed his brow against hers. "Do you know what the dream meant?"
"The dream …." She shook her head, speaking as if she'd almost forgotten about their shared experience then burrowed in against him. "Not yet, but the three of us can puzzle through it. Maybe even call Shiala and see if she can help."
"I think the queen was trying to show us that the rachni have witnessed most, if not all, of galactic history," Garrus said as he ducked around them, snatching his underarmour from the closet. "They know pretty much everything, may even control some of it, if only we can get them to let us in on it."
Shepard stiffened in Nihlus's arms. "The queen can't tell us how to stop the reapers." She pulled back and looked up into his eyes. "They've been waiting for us to find the solution." Popping up onto her tiptoes, she kissed him. "Get dressed. I'll meet you down in the briefing room. I need both of you standing with me when I face down the Illusive Man. He needs to know Archangel is leading this fight, not Cerberus." Another kiss and she hurried up the stairs and out the door.
Nihlus ran the dream on a loop in his head as he dressed and armoured up. So many cycles, most just a blink in his memory. Every cycle, the reapers went after the rachni first. He paused with his hand halfway to the cabin door control and turned toward Garrus at his four. "The reapers always go after the rachni first. They're always enslaved … neutralized before the harvest begins."
Letting out a long, noisy breath, Garrus nodded. "Saren was meant to do that this time around, but we stopped him." His eyes met Nihlus's, the general's stare needle-sharp, and for a moment, their minds seemed to work as one. "We stopped him, and Shepard let the queen go." The general's mandibles dropped, flicking once, hard. "No, Saren's work was the second attempt, not the first. The rachni war …."
"... was the first strike." Nihlus turned back to the door and hit the control, needing to move. "The reapers thought they'd destroyed them, but then Saren's people found the eggs." He hurried into the elevator, mind racing, his vision focused inward. "Spirits, this entire thing just gets more tangled with everything we learn."
A subvocal reverberation of agreement followed him. "When they found the eggs, they thought, why not turn them into warriors for our side?" Garrus cursed under his breath and slapped the control to take them down to the CIC. "After the rachni war, the uplifted krogan became a threat. Want to lay odds on reaper tentacles behind the rebellions?" His head bobbed a little, a helpless gesture that echoed the same tangled wire knotting along Nihlus's nerves. "They might show up once every 50,000 cycles to harvest, but they're very much present and active the entire time.
A brilliant flash exploded behind Nihlus's eyes, the image of a steel-blue stone chamber. At the center, gunmetal towers rose all the way to the ceiling, lines of green energy glowing along the length. "The reapers take centuries to harvest the advanced races and destroy all technology associated with those races. They're ruthless and thorough, yet they left a prothean archive and samples of prothean tech buried in every solar system where primitive life flourished."
"Tarc!" Garrus began to pace. "They left them there for us to find. Everything we've found, the ruins, the archives and beacons … all left for us to figure out and follow a specific path." The elevator door opened, Garrus spinning and striding out without pausing. "We're specimens in some experiment."
Heart racing, Nihlus followed. He slapped his thigh, talons trembling when the automatic movement reminded him that he'd given up the flask and its nerve-calming, pain-numbing contents. Substituting deep breaths for a drink, he steadied himself, building up layer upon layer of professional inscrutability. As much as he didn't galavant around the galaxy on the crusade of the week any longer, he remained a Spectre.
"Captain, this information is highly classified." Miranda's voice rang through the bulkheads even before Nihlus opened the side door in the lab. "After you and I meet with the Illusive Man, we can decide what information the rest of the team needs to know."
Tarc, that woman's voice lacerated his every nerve. He'd heard some of the Ypres's crew members refer to Lawson's accent as appealing, but he just heard the voice of the operative who'd put a control chip in Shepard's brain. Trying to turn the one he loved into Cerberus puppet trumped any musical appeal.
"Do you think she's trying to activate the control chip?" Garrus asked, subvocals dripping contempt. Nihlus chuffed in reply, but Shepard's voice cut him off before he could speak.
"Something you continually fail to understand is that Nihlus and Garrus aren't members of anyone's team, they are the other two thirds of me." Shepard's voice cut sharper than Lawson's, but deeper, a good fighting knife compared to a large pin. "Trust me, you want them in from the beginning."
"It's not me you need to convince, Captain, but the Illusive—"
The door to the old armory opened, Jack stepping through. She stopped and cocked an eyebrow at them. "You two scared to go in?"
"Terrified." Nihlus palmed the door control, cutting Lawson off so abruptly he heard her teeth clack together when she spun to face him. Judging by the trace of human blood that carried on the air current, she'd bitten her tongue. He swallowed his unkind satisfaction at her discomfort and looked to Shepard.
She winked, making his heart flutter for a couple of beats. How did she do that? Even in those first days when she drove him nearly insane, it took nothing more than a single, soulful glance to bring him crashing to his knees. He nodded, understanding the wink. She wanted them to have the chance to face the bastard and find out if he'd been behind their abduction and vivisection.
A soft growl from behind him said Garrus understood as well, and relished the opportunity as much as he did. Brushing off the phantom aches emanating from everywhere metal still held him together, Nihlus pulled his mandibles tight against his face.
"EDI, open the channel." Crooking a finger at him, she beckoned. "Spectre Kryik … General Vakarian ... Jack, you'll join the call with me." A finger stabbed the air, cutting Miranda off before she could protest. When the operative clamped her lips shut on the words, Shepard stepped up to the edge of the QEC pad.
Before she crossed into the grid, she turned to Mordin and Dr. Chakwas, the pair of doctors looking uncomfortable and confused. "I'm not sure I'll need you two, but if you have questions, give them to me, and I'll ask. If this is about boarding and capturing a collector cruiser, we can be sure to face swarms."
"Understood, Captain," Chakwas replied. The doctor nodded at Mordin then led the salarian toward the far bulkhead.
Nihlus's stare never abandoned Shepard as she looked to Jack last.
"I want you right behind my shoulder." His dilan's face turned to stone. "Say nothing, don't move, but feel free to put as much incrimination and hate and crazy into your stare as you want."
"Shepard … " Miranda's voice could have cut glass. "... this is highly inappropriate. You've never had any direct contact with the Illusive Man, and you come at him with what … accusations?" She stepped to block Shepard from the pad. "I can't allow this."
Shepard took a single deep breath, suddenly as hard as she'd been soft hours before as she curled in next to Nihlus, and they'd gotten in some good, solid kissing practice. "You'll get all the information straight from the horse's mouth, so you can leave."
Miranda activated her omnitool, but Shepard's hand jumped out to grab the operative's wrist. "Leave or I'll remove you."
After another moment of defiance, the operative wrenched her wrist loose of Shepard's grip and strode—head high, chin raised—out the door.
Jack cackled. "I knew I liked you, Shepard."
A small twitch of a smile preceded a weary sigh. "I meant what I said, Jack. Not a word, not a muscle below your neck moves."
All the snarky stulti disappeared from Jack's expression, her answering nod a solemn one.
"Okay. Let's get this done." Shepard led the way onto the pad, back straight and jaw clenched, one hundred percent the captain and Spectre. So much more than the woman he'd fallen in love with after Elysium despite all the flaws … no, not flaws but rather, reality ... that took him by surprise when they met.
The hologrid rose around them, scanning in their images and transporting them the thousands of light years into the sinister, too dark lair of the most vile criminal in the galaxy. Nihlus focused on the bright orange glow for a moment before looking to the black silhouette beyond. The human stood out, sharp against the seething sun in the background.
Nihlus nudged Garrus then, hiding his hand behind Shepard, gestured for his fratrin to scan the sun in the background. Maybe they could use it to find the bastard's hideout. No doubt, they'd need to take him out eventually. A small flame ignited in the darkness, lighting a cigarette. Nihlus's brow plate twitched. Excellent timing. The man must have been waiting for them.
'Shepard, we caught a break," the silhouette said then took a long drag. He exhaled, the smoke forming a haze around his head. "I intercepted a distress call from a turian patrol. They stumbled upon a collector ship beyond the Korlus system." He turned, hesitating for less than a heartbeat when he saw the rest of them.
Spirits, his eyes glowed. Their pale blue so resembled husk eyes that Nihlus's gut folded in half, then in half again. Did they owe that gleam to augments or something more sinister? Spirits, how much deeper and uglier did the hell of Cerberus get?
Continuing after the barest pause, the Illusive Man spoke as he sauntered to a lone chair, lost in the dark. "The turians were wiped out, but not before they disabled the collector vessel." He sat and crossed his legs at the knee—the very picture of casual power—and dragged hard at the cigarette.
"A turian scout patrol took out a collector vessel?" Garrus shook his head, the simple movement striking harder than krogan war hammer. "I find that unlikely. Where did you get your intel?"
The Illusive Man's stare never wavered from Shepard. Clearly the rest of them occupied a space too low to acknowledge beyond a slight blink. "Reports indicate the hull's intact, but all systems seem to be offline." He smoked for a moment, the end of the cigarette glowing bright then fading. "The collectors could be making repairs even now. It's dangerous, but we can't let an opportunity like this get past us." He glanced down and tapped the ash from the end of his cigarette.
The darkness and the eerie reflections made the Illusive Man's office feel as though it stretched into the ravenous darkness between stars. The gravity of the sun in the background pulled him in, malevolent and intractable. It whispered to him, savage but irresistible, a siren song coaxing him into its fires. "Let yourself burn. Risk everything," it hissed. "It's the only way to end the madness."
Nihlus clenched his fists, struggling to lock down a shudder. Those pale, glowing eyes wouldn't miss it. No, any weakness would be catalogued and used against him.
"You know that I haven't cooperated with your agenda from the moment I awoke," Shepard said, saving Nihlus from his traitorous reflexes as she stepped up to the battlements, arrow nocked. "Why come to me with this? I'll take whatever I find and give it to Archangel."
Rolling the lit end of his cigarette against the side of his ashtray, the Illusive Man nodded. "I had you brought back to defeat the collectors and reapers, and I continue to believe you're the best resource to achieve that end. For now Archangel's agenda benefits humanity."
"And you know your agents embedded in Archangel will retrieve any intel you need." Garrus pushed up next to Shepard. "If the turians took that ship out, they've reported back to fleet command. The hierarchy will have recon and reinforcements in transit."
When the man in the chair said nothing, Shepard stepped forward, letting her arrow fly: a shot across the bow. "Well? What about the turians?"
"I intercepted the transmission to their fleet command." His arm returned to the arm of his chair, hand with glowing cigarette hanging carelessly off the end. Or, rather, what he meant to look careless. Nihlus doubted the Illusive Man had done a single careless thing in his life. No, machinations and plots and puzzles, all very carefully organized and implemented, formed the tune to which the man danced.
"And feeding them false information?" Shepard let out a disgusted huff. "I guarantee less than five minutes after this call ends, General Adrien Victus will know the truth." She glanced back at Nihlus, resolve in her stare. "Unfortunately, we need that collector ship. Send EDI everything you've got, and we'll head directly there."
The Illusive Man stood. "I'm not the enemy, Shepard. We're working for the same team." He dropped the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray, but otherwise displayed no reaction, those eerie eyes just glowing in the dark, his face all angles and shadow.
"We don't live in the same universe, let alone work for the same side," Shepard snapped back. Nihlus saw her jaw clench as she looked down and away: her tells when she held her temper by a fraying thread. "Is there anything else pertaining to the collectors? Anything you've left out to manipulate me into doing your dirty work?"
"When you board the collector vessel, uplink to EDI." The man opened a small case, withdrawing another cigarette. He tapped the filter against the holder before a small flame broke the darkness, igniting the end.
Nihlus stared, finding the ritual hypnotic, so, for a moment, the distraction worked. But then, the Illusive Man shifted and spoke, breaking the spell.
"We need to take the fight to the collectors before they destroy every human colony and turn their sights on Earth. That means finding a way to pass through the Omega IV relay. Once the uplink is established, EDI will mine their computers for relevant data."
Nihlus grimaced. Every word out of the man's mouth crawled beneath the Spectre's plates, greasy, half-rotted soluvermus. He doubted anything the Illusive Man said was an outright lie, but the man amounted to one, large mask … a performance in which not a single breath or blink went unscripted. He shuddered, certain that he smelled smoke despite the impossibility of it.
Movement in Nihlus's peripheral vision pulled his attention to Mordin, the salarian pushing up just behind Shepard. He leaned close to her ear as if to whisper a secret, but didn't lower his voice as he said, "Clever, using shadow … smoking to mask deception." The sentence cut the heavy air, clipped and annoyed as if the Illusive Man's attempts to distract Shepard insulted him personally. "Markers remain. Hiding something important … vital. Perhaps knowledge of organization's horrific experiments? Poisoning and torturing your young to create biotics … vivisection and experimentation on abducted sentient subjects."
Silent, Shepard gripped Mordin's shoulder, easing him back. She tipped her head toward Chakwas, her expression stern enough that Nihlus knew the salarian doctor faced a reprimand once the call ended. No doubt Shepard hadn't intended to reveal so many of their cards.
"Operative Lawson will brief you." The Illusive Man lifted his hand toward the kill button. "Good luck, Shepard." The dark room and seething sun disappeared, leaving them staring at the back wall of the briefing room.
Garrus chuffed even before Nihlus's eyes adjusted to the light. "He's so full of tarc, he thinks the stink is fresh air."
Shepard turned to face them, her stare fixed on the floor, her expression caught between disgust and thoughtfulness: all of the gears in her head spinning up to full speed. She'd deny having an expression dedicated to plotting and planning, and to be fair, it was more nuanced than overt, but Nihlus could always tell when the teeth locked in and began to spin.
At last, her gaze drifted up, and she answered Garrus with a slight bob of her head and a long, deep breath. Nihlus loved when she did that, it felt like the planets and stars falling into alignment. It settled something deep in his gut as well.
"Yeah, he's not telling us the whole story, but we need that intel, and we need that ship." Leading them off the pad, she lapsed into silence, her stare returning to the toes of her boots, that remarkable computer inside her skull running full tilt.
"We have EDI to help even the odds," Nihlus supplied. He turned, but allowed Garrus to exit the QEC ahead of him. "We could also contact Legion and the chia to see if they can help." He watched her profile, waiting for his words to slide into a calculation slot for processing, grinning when they did.
"Yes, that's excellent. We'll need to link Legion into the collector vessel as well." Shepard beckoned the doctors closer without looking up. "You two make sure we won't end up paralyzed by the swarms, and Mordin, you'll be going on my ground team."
"Will be ready," the salarian said, the words as solemn as an oath. He hurried out the door.
Chakwas paused before she followed him over the threshold. "Dr. Eis and I will have medbay prepared for any casualties, Captain."
"Thanks, Doc. Appreciate it."
Nihlus opened his mouth to start drawing out how they planned to assault a vastly superior force on a superior vessel, but a male voice cut him off before he started.
"Good morning, Dr. Chakwas," rolled in from the passage.
"And to you, Mr. Vera. Ms. Landis sprained her wrist working out last night. I told her to contact you to schedule rehabilitation time."
"I'll set something up for her this morning. Thanks for giving me something to do other than maintain weapons and patch Shepard's armour."
"You're most welcome. You're an excellent physiotherapist."
Nihlus watched the door, surprised when the Cerberus physiotherapist appeared in the doorway rather than heading into the old armoury turned gymnasium. Although he hadn't left the Ypres when the opportunity presented itself, Vincent Vera kept to himself most of the time. Even on missions, he remained silent unless addressed or he had something mission-related to say. Instead, he held himself at a distance, watching rather than interacting, except perhaps with their pilot, Cortez.
"Captain," Vincent said and saluted: formal and very much in the style of the Alliance. He tipped quick acknowledgements to Garrus and Nihlus. "Could I speak to you for a minute?"
"Sure." Shepard returned the salute then relaxed into a cocked hip and folded arms. "What can I do for you, Mr. Vera?"
The therapist glanced at EDI's emitter. "I need to speak with you, but somewhere more private than here. I have some personal concerns that don't need to be public knowledge."
Empathy focused Nihlus's attention on the man. The Spectre didn't even need to take a deep breath to scent the fear riding the recycled air currents, but it tasted altruistic not selfish. A sweet tang of affection twined through the man's pheromones, diffuse rather than centered on Shepard. Whatever the man agonized over, it revolved around a strangely pure feeling of dishonesty … a lie told with the best of intentions, perhaps? Either way, nothing about Vincent Vera set Nihlus's instincts on edge, so he left dealing with it to his dilan.
Shepard straightened. "Meet me down in the server room in twenty minutes. We can talk there." A warm smile greeted his second glance toward the physical proof of the AI's very present eyes and ears. "EDI doesn't share personal information unless it poses a danger to the mission. Right, EDI?"
"That's accurate, Captain," the AI replied, "and both Dr. Chakwas and Dr. Solus have swept medbay and the server room for listening devices. Your conversation will be as private as possible."
Grinning, Shepard gave an exaggerated shrug, hands held wide. "There you have it, straight from the horse's mouth. I'll meet you down there in twenty."
Vera saluted again. "Thank you, Captain." That time, he saluted Garrus and Nihlus as well. "Spectre Kryik ... General Vakarian."
Nihlus answered with a formal nod. He waited until the door closed behind Vera before he turned to face his fratrin and dilan. "We're going to need every advantage we can scrape together."
"I'll contact Victus," Garrus replied. "He might be able to get there in time to help, and if not, he can report back to the hierarchy about the collectors and any evidence we find connecting them to the reapers." He slipped an arm around Shepard. "I'll contact him through other than Cerberus means."
Shepard stood on tiptoes to kiss his mandible. "Excellent." She gave her bond-mate a brief hug before stepping back to clear the path to the door. Even before the door closed, she set out. "Nihlus, can you take care of contacting Legion and figuring out the particulars with EDI. We'll need them to be able to burrow through the collector defenses and take control of some of the ship's functions."
"We'll be ready, Shepard," EDI responded, stealing Nihlus's thunder.
Nihlus chuckled. "I'll head to the bridge and arrange things from there." Reaching up, he gripped Shepard's shoulder, pulling her into a hug, her body pressed against his left side. "You all right?" Searching her eyes, he looked for chinks in the walls protecting her. What he saw reassured him. As always, his haksaya kubenar remained solid and ready to face down the horror.
Shepard wrapped her arms around him. "It should be me asking you that question. Sweet baby Jesus, that man ... ." She shuddered and pressed closer. "I thought Arnistan Banes and Miranda were the worst of it, but the Illusive Man blows them both out of the water. We looked into the creepy-ass glowing eyes of evil, Nihlus. Pure evil." Another shudder shook her from head to toe.
"He certainly thinks he has it over everyone," Nihlus agreed, trying to downplay the fear that those husk-like eyes sent flooding through his veins. "He underestimates us, and we'll prove his arrogance unfounded." He nuzzled the top of her head before easing her from his arms.
Looking up into his eyes, Shepard smiled, the expression a little stiff but sincere. "Yeah, we will. After all, the rachni have been waiting for us, right?" She patted his back and turned to the door. "EDI, give Lt. Cortez the coordinates for the collector ship. Let's get underway. We've got a cruiser to hijack."
(A-N: The month of focus on FI continues. :D Successfully, I think. I hope you enjoy the chapter. *hugs and kittens*)