Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cheerleader Fillets
Mindoir, Attican Traverse
The gentle aroma of nature permeated the air. A soft scent with hints similar to pine wafted on the breeze. Miranda Lawson stood, poised and still, beneath a copse of trees. It took her a few moments to realise that she was filled with a sense of appreciation. For just a moment she claimed the serenity offered by closing her eyes. She drew in a deep, invigorating breath. Her senses hummed, almost joyfully. In that space it was easy to forget that a wider galaxy – with all its schemes, tribulations, and absent lovers – even existed. A subconscious smile ghosted her lips.
A twig snapped. Her eyes opened. Reality slapped her in the face in the form of Jack Zero's jeering expression. Miranda merely tightened her lips in response as the other woman sauntered past her. She then followed without saying a word. Jack led her through into a small clearing. Seemingly satisfied with her choice of location, she then began stripping her jacket off. Although Miranda was a willing accomplice, she hesitated in doing the same. She had already run through the whole scenario in her head, asking herself dozens of times whether she had lost her mind. The only conclusion that she could reach was that she probably had.
"We sparring or what?" Jack demanded impatiently. The smaller biotic tossed her jacket to the ground and stretched her arms in an exaggerated fashion as she circled Miranda. "Because I sure as hell didn't come up here to admire the view."
"It's nice up here," Miranda replied, ignoring Jack's question. "Peaceful."
Jack's expression twisted into one of pure scorn. "You're shitting me right? We're not here to look at the fucking trees. You were worried about me kicking your butt in front of the grunts-" She spread her arms in a wide gesture "-so we're here. Quid pro quo, Cheerleader."
"We are sparring, Jack," Miranda replied in an even tone.
Although Jack continued to goad her incessantly, the words no longer had their intended effect. Their verbal sparring sessions became almost a non-event, with Miranda relying on the simple tactic of restraining her temper. It didn't stop the ex-convict from trying, but the only rise Jack was able to earn was a grinding of teeth or faint tightness around Miranda's mouth. Although she would never admit it, being in Jack's company was almost bearable.
With a smooth, almost unconscious movement, Miranda peeled off her own outer layer. Unlike Jack, she folded her jacket and placed it purposefully atop a large rock. As she turned, Jack uttered a low whistle. Miranda didn't react at first. Her thoughts shifted to the natural assumption that the other woman was making some statement about her tits. It was a common enough reaction. Nothing to do with vanity, just fact. She also wouldn't put it past Jack to wind her up in such a fashion.
"Looks like someone filleted you real good, Cheerleader," Jack commented in an amused drawl.
Miranda had to process the comment before realising that her assumptions were wrong. Jack was staring at the ugly, raw scar that trailed down much of her right arm. She stared at the scar herself. It was bare to the world, or at least to Jack, like it was something she was proud of. All her prior vigilance had been eroded by a few minutes of nature's potent scent. Half a dozen lies flitted through her mind, all falling short in terms of anything that would stand up to Jack's scrutiny.
"It's nothing," Miranda replied curtly. She shifted her stance, adopting Jack's impatience. "You ready?"
Jack folded her arms across her chest. The movement mirrored the contemptuous expression on her face. "I wouldn't call that 'nothing.' Someone sliced you open like a ripe fruit and you weren't able to get it treated properly. Alliance docs would have left barely a trace, your back-alley surgery means you're gonna be wearing that scar on your pasty white skin for the rest of your life. Something stinks here. Kinda smells like you were helping with someone's dirty work, something that you wanted to keep from the Alliance brass badly enough to scar yourself."
It required a concerted effort to keep from scowling, but Miranda forced a bored look onto her face. "So what if you're right? Are you going to tell on me, Jack?"
Jack stalked forward several, heated steps. "After all we've been through, you think I'd sell you out?" she demanded angrily. "Fuck you, Cheerleader. I may hate your stupid bubbly ass, but we are part of a family-" Jack's lips curled momentarily into a sardonic smile "-a pretty fucked up family, but it still means something to me. All I want to know is whether whatever you've done...whether you, are a security risk to my command."
Miranda remembered everything about that rain soaked morning. How the ill-fitting, borrowed armour had chaffed uncomfortably as she moved. The violent thrill of actual combat. A kill-or-be-killed game that she had played all too many times before. It was a game that she hadn't missed. Yet as she carved her way through Alliance soldiers, her supposed comrades, Miranda had not been able to contain the righteous anger she felt at the thought of Shepard in captivity. Although the rage gave her strength, it ruined her focus. Her usual awareness and caution in combat could have saved her from the heavy calibre round that smashed through her shields and into her arm. However it did save her from giving into the blinding pain that ripped through her body and the nausea that bubbled up when she saw her own bone protruding from her broken flesh. The pain was further diminished when she saw Mack running with a limp form cradled in his arms. Miranda barely recognised the woman he held as her former lover, but in that moment she knew that everything had been worthwhile.
As she met Jack's challenging stare with an unwavering expression of her own, Miranda held no regrets about her actions - even the fact that she had kept Ashley in the dark. A part of her wanted to deliver a vehement no in answer to Jack's question, even to slap the demanding expression off the other woman's face. What stopped her was knowing exactly where the question originated. Jack needed an answer for the purest of reasons - she was trying to protect the men and woman under her command. Miranda wouldn't give up the fact that Shepard was alive, not even in return for her own life, but she also found herself unable to look Jack in the eye and blatantly lie to her.
"I don't know. Probably not," Miranda replied in a tight voice.
"Probably? I don't deal in probable's and you know it," Jack replied.
"A Captain named Alves might know something," Miranda admitted with a sigh.
Jack's thin eyebrows shot upwards. "Alves? As in fucking Cristiane Alves?"
"You know Alves?" Miranda wasn't sure why she was surprised. She already suspected that Alves was the type of person that made sure everyone knew about her. And ex-Normandy crewmembers were no doubt top of her shit list.
"Bitch gives me the creeps," Jack said with a slight shake of her head. She looked up and caught the surprised that flitted across Miranda's face. "Don't look at me like that. Shit scares me...occasionally. Especially that bitch...and all of those other fuckers in charge."
"If you want me to leave-" Miranda began.
Jack rounded on her, fists clenched. "Did I say I fucking wanted you to leave, Lawson? Just because you've been stirring up some kind of shit doesn't mean I'm going to leave you high and dry." She drew in a breath and calmed slightly. "Just promise you'll give me a heads up if the shit hits the fan. Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"
"You called me Lawson," Miranda said with the hint of a smile.
A cough escaped Jack's throat. "Bullshit." She stalked across to a nearby rock and gave it a solid kick before sitting down. Jack scowled, as though Miranda was solely to blame for some heinous crime. "Just because I said all this shit about us being family, doesn't mean I hate you any less, Cheerleader."
"I had absolutely no intention of thinking otherwise," Miranda replied. She propped one hand on her hip when she realised that Jack had no intention of moving from her perch on the rock. "So, I thought we were sparring?"
"You killed my buzz," Jack muttered.
"How?" Miranda asked as she watched Jack pick at a clump of lichen with her fingernails.
"You made me think about shit," was the terse answer.
Following a short deliberation with herself, Miranda folded her legs beneath her and simply sat in the warm grass. Jack glanced up for a moment, before refocusing her attention on the stubborn lichen with renewed intensity. In no hurry to make the other woman talk, Miranda resumed her earlier enjoyment of her surroundings. The soft blades tickled the bare skin of her arms as she straightened her legs in front of her and leaned back. Despite the smell of pine, her thoughts drifted back to Alberta - to damp leaves, sweat, and blood. From the moment Hannah Shepard had helped her into the shuttle the adrenaline wore off, replaced by an intense, nausea-inducing pain that left her short-tempered and emotional. It had taken every effort to keep from disgracing herself by collapsing into sobs when she spoke to Shepard. After believing she was dead for months, the relief at finding her alive (and mostly intact) was palpable. Miranda had received sporadic messages from Liara since, but they were all strictly business.
I guess Liara is under the impression that I'm not interested in simply hearing how people are doing, Miranda mused, feeling a twinge of despair. It hardly surprised her. The facade she'd built around herself had been eroded over the years, but apparently not to the point that she was someone to 'chat' to. It's not like I can simply place a vidcall to Omega and chat to someone who's supposed to be dead.
"Why are you here?"
Jack's sudden question interrupted her internal musings. Miranda glanced up to find the other biotic with a challenging expression on her face. "Pardon?"
For once, Jack didn't pounce on her old-fashioned manners. "Why the fuck are you here? On Mindoir? Slumming it in the fucking Systems Alliance Navy?"
Miranda's lips parted and she let out a gentle exhale while her mind whirled, trying to come up with an answer that meant something. Her reasoning had seemed perfectly clear at the point of enlistment - even in the face of Ashley's wrath. However now her desire to make a difference had been buried beneath her and Jack's animosity and the much larger problem that was eroding everything the Systems Alliance stood for.
"To be completely honest...I don't know anymore," Miranda admitted. "I've known for some time that the Alliance and I have a serious difference in opinion regarding the future of humanity."
Jack snorted, still staring down at her hands. "Tell me about it. I'm sure as hell not going to war again against anyone, not after the shit I've seen over the past few years. I try to imagine fighting against my friends - Grunt, Garrus, Tali - and I can't picture anything other than fighting beside them. Hell, I wouldn't even fight against you, how am I supposed to fight against someone I actually like?"
Jack's gaze suddenly jerked upwards. The vengeful expression gave everything away before she opened her mouth. Although her entire body tensed in preparation, Miranda forced herself to remain calm in the face of the inevitable tirade.
"It feels like fucking Cerberus won." With a vigorous shove, Jack propelled herself from the rock. Her movements were agitated as she stalked towards Miranda. "No wonder you're sitting there with a smug look on your face."
"Let it go, Jack," Miranda replied in an uncompromising voice. She was tired of fighting with the other biotic, tired of continually being reminded about her past. Despite what the organisation had become, Miranda did not view her time with Cerberus as a mistake. For all the lives they had ruined, their support had allowed her to save lives...and, in one case, even save someone who was dead.
Jack raked an angry hand through her hair. "I've fucking tried, but I just need to look at you and everything comes back-"
"I had nothing to do with Pragia-"
"Shut the fuck up about fucking Pragia!" Jack snapped vehemently. "Can't you see I'm trying to be constructive here?"
Miranda uttered an incredulous snort. "No...not really."
"Well not all of us had a Daddy who spent millions on our education. Cerberus was more interested in teaching me to rip shit apart than hold a proper conversation," Jack admitted snidely.
It was difficult for Miranda to ignore the quip about her father. Although she couldn't equate her childhood with Jack's, it wasn't a stretch to draw parallels between the two. They'd both been manufactured for a certain purpose, by men who had cared nothing about them as individuals. It just happened that Miranda's personal hell had been disguised as a life of luxury. Had she failed, or proven to be unfit for purpose, then she would have been disposed of without emotion. Indeed, in the months before fleeing her father's house Miranda had sensed that her time was running out. She pushed all of this to the back of her mind as she concentrated, not unsympathetically, on the agitated woman in front of her.
"What are you trying to say, Jack?" Miranda asked quietly.
Jack met her gaze in an unnervingly direct manner. "I don't wanna be surprised when the shit hits the fan. If...when everything goes tits up, I wanna be on the right side. I want people around me I can trust, not a bunch of goons likely to shoot me in the back."
"You want out of the Alliance?" Miranda deduced.
"I didn't fucking say that." Jack shook her head. "If everyone jumps ship then the fuckers in charge have got free reign to do whatever the hell they like. The bullshit they're spouting? I'm gonna make sure people know its bullshit...or at least those under my command."
"Subversion?" Miranda cocked an eyebrow. "I wholeheartedly approve."
Jack's shoulders relaxed somewhat. One corner of her mouth even twitched upward into the barest of smiles. "You're with me?"
"I've got your back," Miranda answered with a determined nod.
The smile broadened for a moment as Jack reached out a hand to help Miranda to her feet. "Yippy kay yay," the petite biotic said in an almost cheerful voice. She eyed Miranda suspiciously. "You're not going to fucking hug me are you?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Miranda replied hastily. If she was being completely honest with herself, the thought had flitted through her mind for a split second. However it had disappeared following thoughts of Jack smearing her across the clearing in the resulting outburst.
"Good, because I still hate you. I've just discovered a couple of things I hate more - like war...and that twat Kessler."
"On that we can agree," Miranda responded. The two of them fell into step as they made their way back towards the base. "I can think of innumerable things I would rather be doing than fighting."
Jack snickered derisively. "Like making perfect babies with Captain Perfect? Excuse me while I barf."
Miranda sighed. "I really haven't missed you, Jack. Not one iota."
Erinle, Osun System
Ashley Williams was uncomfortable. From the soles of her non-regulation boots all the way to her un-helmeted head. She appeared to absently scuff the toe of one of her boots against the lip of a paving stone that had worked its way lose, kicking and scowling at it as though it had somehow offended her. In truth everything about this damn place offended her. She felt filthy simply standing in the midst of its unwashed citizenry.
Despite her seemingly obvious boredom, Ash remained the consummate marine. Still prodding at the stone, her attention remained fixed on a busy thoroughfare a dozen or so metres from her position. If someone had called for a parade of the worst sort of scum imaginable, she imagined it would have resembled the view in front of her. Mercs, whores and all manner of unsavoury individuals that characterised virtually the entire Terminus Systems. Ash didn't want to generalise, but when it came to this part of the Galaxy she couldn't be bothered to make an attempt at being open-minded.
Almost an hour earlier, Captain Kurin and one of her commandos had entered the establishment. Kurin had reassured her it would be a quick meeting with a contact. Now Ash was almost at the point where she had to make a decision to move. She'd already loitered outside longer than any self-respecting agent ought to have, drawing possible attention to herself with each passing minute. Successive attempts to meander the street had only resulted in a bevy of propositions for her sexual favours. She'd managed to discreetly break one wrist, but any more would draw further attention.
After what felt like an eternity, Kurin finally emerged. Ash had always found asari difficult to read, but even she could not fail to miss the commando's agitated body language. Not only was she clearly unnerved, she was now alone.. Instinctively Ash reached for her side, feeling the reassuring chill of her Carnifex in its holster. Something told her she was going to need it.
Although she picked up on Kurin's urgency, Ash made her displeasure clear by giving the asari a cold look over her shoulder. The stare summed up an hours worth of discomfort, not to mention the barely suppressed resentment over having to defer command of the operation to someone else. Despite the fact that Kurin was decades, if not centuries, older than her, Ash had always found it difficult to trust an unknown quantity. She'd done so in this instance due to her complete lack of knowledge of the remote rock of a planet on which they found themselves. There had been a minimal of expletives when relinquishing command, but Ash now found it difficult to restrain her temper.
"You said five fucking minutes, it's been fifty-five," Ash hissed under her breath. "And where the fuck is-" She'd already forgotten the name of the second commando.
"By the Goddess!" Kurin cut the marine off with a curt whisper. She suddenly linked their arms together, drawing their bodies close. "I thought you were a professional, not a mewling infant!"
Even as Ash scowled, Kurin meshed their bodies together in a way that distracted from the fact they were arguing. In a matter of seconds she had both her arms flung around Ash - one around her shoulders, the other wrapped securely around her waist. Ash was now supporting most of Kurin's weight as she stumbled almost drunkenly.
"My contact didn't show," Kurin said in a low, barely audible voice. Moments later she let out an unexpected, high-pitched giggle. "We've got an unknown quantity tailing us. Essa and I split up to draw them off." She then commenced nuzzling Ash's neck in an intimate fashion, punctuated by further giggling that did not suit the gruff commando.
"What the hell are you playing at?" Ash growled.
"It's called subterfuge, Williams," Kurin replied, suddenly licking Ash's ear lobe. "Goddess, how did you become a SpecTRe?"
"I know what you're doing!" Ash replied grumpily. "I'm questioning why you need to do it."
She then felt Kurin twist slightly in her arms. Under the pretext of kissing her on the cheek, the asari stole a quick glance behind them. Playing along, Ash lowered her ear close to Kurin's mouth as she whispered that there were three of them - two Batarians and a Krogan. Ash felt a chill run down her spine. The Batarians she could handle in her sleep, the Krogan was another matter altogether.
They remained locked together in an awkward, stumbling embrace for several minutes. Other than their three pursuers, no one paid them any mind. Ash played her part reluctantly alongside the commando. Beneath her forced laughter her mind continued to work with stark clarity. The mission brief had been simple - rendezvous with Kurin's contact, determine whether his intel was legit and get the hell back to their ship. Instead the contact had probably sold them out to the highest bidder and Ash was reduced to playing one half of the worst comedy duo ever. Not to mention the fact that Kurin's lingering kisses on her neck were beginning to have an undesired effect despite the anger thrumming through her body. To say that she was in a foul mood did not even begin to describe her state. As soon as they made it back to the ship, Ash had every intention of relieving Kurin of command - forcibly if necessary. An undignified yelp escaped her lips as Kurin suddenly propelled her into a narrow alleyway. Ash was about to let her know it was a dead end when, with a surprising display of strength, Kurin pressed her into an alcove. There was barely enough time to utter a surprised gasp before Ash found herself on the receiving end of determined, fervent kiss that left her little space to move let alone breathe. Despite knowing it was another part of the ruse, Ash instinctively resisted the contact. She felt a sharp stab in her ribs as Kurin reprimanded her for her unwillingness.
I'd rather take my chances with the Krogan, Ash thought as she tried to feign enthusiasm. Her feelings towards Kurin approached loathing, and yet her pent up desires urged her to give into the contact. Her body had already betrayed her, quickening in response to the asari's skilled ministrations.
A guttural cough suddenly interrupted her reverie. She cocked one eye open to find the trio of mercs standing nearby. All wore equally wide grins. Their combined bulk effectively blocked the alley.
This is not going to end well, Ash thought as she eyed each in turn discretely. Their gear was the worn and well-used kind that usually belonged to the low-end mercs, the kind that did all the dirty work. Each wore a crudely painted insignia on their breastplates that she didn't recognise. To her credit, Kurin feigned indifference as she continued to play the part of an eager lover. Although Ash could have done without her sensuous, undulating gyrations against her.
"Fuck off," Ash addressed their pursuers in a bored voice. "Can't you see we're busy?"
"Well, we were hoping for an invitation to join you," one of the Batarians replied almost politely. "Asari are rare enough around these parts...and then we saw her with a human-" he made a grunt of appreciation "-let's just say that none of us has ever had the privilege. What'd ya say? It would be an experience you'd never forget."
Of that I have absolutely no doubt, Ash thought - unsure whether to be revolted or flattered. "Sorry pal, neither of us do cock, so you're shit out of luck."
"I told you, Salo!" The Krogan thumped his Batarian companion on the back of his head so hard that he stumbled forward. "We should've stayed in the bar, we were on a role with those hanar!"
"You don't ask, you don't get!" Salo protested. "I've heard Earth females are easy." He inclined his head towards Ash and Kurin. "My sincere apologies for disturbing you. I probably don't need to tell you to enjoy the rest of your day."
With Ash staring at the trio incredulously, they simply turned and walked away. The Krogan was still clearly annoyed - demanding to know what idiot had said that human females were easy.
When Ash met Kurin's gaze, she found the asari wearing a broad smirk. "You have got to be kidding me. All that over a handful of horny aliens?" Much to her continued annoyance, Kurin seemed to be in no hurry to put space between them. It was only at that point that Ash realised the asari had somehow managed to undo her belt and slide her hand somewhere it definitely did not belong. "Could you remove your hand from my pants?"
The commando did not comply. "Why, Captain Williams? Are you afraid you might be enjoying yourself a little too much?"
"What makes you think I'm afraid?" Ash growled.
Kurin tilted her head to one side. An amused smile crossed her lips. "Perhaps it isn't fear then. A tinge of panic? If you enjoyed it, you can admit it."
"What makes you think I enjoyed it?" Ash demanded.
In response Kurin suddenly applied pressure with her fingers. The resulting gasp was impossible to stifle. It escaped Ash's lips in a heady, clearly audible rush of air. With a grunt of frustration, she forcibly extricated herself from the asari's clutches and swiftly redid her belt buckle. She had to ignore the fact that her fingers were trembling.
"It doesn't matter whether I enjoyed it," Ashley began walking away with purposeful strides. "What matters is the fact that my girlfriend will most certainly not like it." A sharp pang of guilt accompanied her thoughts of Miranda. That wasn't cheating, Ash told herself firmly. Was it?
"Your girlfriend?" Kurin said, clearly surprised. She fell into step beside Ash as they left the alley. "I thought I had you all figured out, Williams. It appears that I was quite wrong." When her comment was ignored, she continued with what sounded suspiciously like sympathy, "How long have you been apart?"
Ash was hardly in the mood for conversation. She was frustrated in more ways than one. "Too long," she admitted. "Over four months."
"She must be a remarkable woman, to have captured your attention," Kurin mused, not noticing that Ash's mouth was set into a grim line, clearly indicating she did not want to discuss the subject. Mercifully, Kurin's omni-tool pinged. "It's Essa," Kurin said as she scanned the message. "She's located the contact."
Thank fuck, Ash thought, grateful to have something else to focus on.
Their contact was an extremely nervous looking Salarian, even more frenetic than was usual for his species. His state probably had something to do with the fact that he was nursing a gunshot wound to his thigh. With Essa standing guard at the door to his rundown apartment, Ash and Kurin took a seat. Three decidedly dirty glasses were placed on the table.
"A drink, yes?"
The Salarian was pouring before Ash had a chance to refuse. While she ignored the generous measure in her own glass, Kurin knocked hers back immediately and accepted a refill. From the manner in which the asari winced as she drank, Ash had no intention of downing the stuff.
"Much obliged, Xeron," Kurin lifted her glass in appreciation. "Subterfuge always gives me a thirst."
From the manner in which she lingered over her words, Ash had no doubt as to what part of the whole damn mess she was referring to. She was in no mood to play nice as she placed an arm on the table and leaned her entire body forward. "Spare the pleasantries. We're here for info on the Reaper."
Xeron's already wide eyes goggled even further. Like a wounded puppy, he sought out Kurin. "Not very polite your companion."
"She has her moments," Kurin replied whilst staring at Ash. Eventually she focused on Xeron, who was now a very pale shade of green, and gave him an encouraging nod.
"Yes, yes, the Reaper. I've got intel. You'll be pleased," Xeron nodded, pressing his palms together in a supplicating manner. "However I must insist that payment is discussed first."
Kurin answered by reaching into a concealed pocket in her leathers. She withdrew a credit chit and tossed it on the table. When Xeron reached for it eagerly, she slammed her hand atop it decisively. "Intel first."
Trembling with nervous energy, the Salarian busied himself with a hidden panel on the floor, continuing to speak as he did so. "A month ago, contracted by a merc gang. Used my services many times. Trust me. I don't ask questions. Everybody's happy."
"What exactly are your services?" Ash interrupted.
"Decryption," Xeron replied simply. It appeared to be all he had to offer on the subject until Kurin coughed. He continued reluctantly. "Breaking into high-level systems. Two decades spent working for STG. Got bored. Started accessing forbidden intel. Council. Anything. Caught. Convicted of treason. Sentenced to death. Reprieve given in exchange for working for the Council." He shrugged. "I'm old, not much time left. I agreed."
When he finally removed the panel, all that was inside was a thin datapad. With little fanfare, he tossed it onto the table between Ash and Kurin. The marine was faster, claiming it impatiently. A few vid files were all that was held on the device. Ash tapped the first one. The quality was poor and it took her a few moments to decipher the images. Her lips parted slightly as she recognised an all too familiar shape silhouetted against the darkness. As long as Ash lived, she would never forget the insectoid form of a Reaper. Even barely visible on the small screen, it still sent chills down her spine. The moving image then sharpened slightly. Ash could make out a myriad of what must have been massive cables anchoring it to an asteroid. She briefly noted the time stamp in the corner. It was dated just three weeks earlier. However, as uncomfortable as it was to stare at the thing, Ash couldn't see anything to fear. The Reaper appeared to be a lifeless hulk, exactly the same as all the others in the wake of the Crucible's blast. The only point of difference was that this Reaper appeared completely intact.
"It's just a hulk." It was Kurin that spoke. Ash hadn't realised that the asari was standing directly behind her. Kurin leaned in for a closer look. Her breath was warm on Ash's cheek when she spoke again, "This is what the Council was so worried about?"
"Second video," Xeron urged, wringing his hands together.
Ash brought up the second recording, already starting to feel a sense of relief that this had turned out to be a false alarm. That premature complacency was shattered the instant the recording began. No longer lifeless, the Reaper's appendages were unfurled. Tendrils of red light arced from its core - brilliantly bright even on the small screen. The image forced Ash back to those desperate moments during the battle for Earth, with Harbinger between their pitiful squad and the Crucible. On screen the Reaper unleashed its pent up energy. The datapad fell from her trembling fingers.
"Fuck," Ash whispered. "That thing's operational."
She didn't react when she felt the firm weight of Kurin's hand on her shoulder. Instead she sat staring at the frozen image of red light filling the datapad's screen. For some insane reason, Ash found herself thinking about the pathetic trio of mercs they'd met in the alley. She even smiled as she remembered their manners and their dejected expressions in the wake of her refusal.
"I fail to find anything amusing about this," Kurin said in a heavy voice. "Look at the time stamp. I saw enough of what those things can do on Thessia - even just one of them. We're going to need more ships...we're going to need a Fleet."
"No," Ash relied quietly. For some reason she was gripped with a sudden sense of purpose. After months of floundering around as little more than the Alliance's poster child, this was something she was meant to do. It was exactly the sort of high stakes game that Shepard would have played without qualm. Her hand was steady as she reached for the glass, downing its contents in one quick gulp. "This needs to be taken care of as quietly as possible. We report back to Tevos, but as far as she's concerned, we've got everything under control. We've got a plan."
Kurin stared at her in disbelief. "We've got no plan and only two ships."
Ash felt like grinning madly. "Not yet." She rounded on the Salarian with feverish intensity. "Start talking, Xeron. I want to know everything you know about this Reaper."
"And then what?" Xeron asked in a high-pitched voice.
A grin spread across Ash's face. She helped herself to Xeron's alcohol as she continued, "And then the fun starts."
Omega, Sahrabarik
It was a challenge to wrap her mouth around the entire parcel of food she held in her hand, but Mycea Kasos managed it - albeit in a decidedly ungraceful fashion. She sighed contentedly as her jaws worked around the steaming hot mouthful, ignoring the sticky sauce that was currently making its way down her chin. It was only when she had swallowed that she used her finger to swipe the sauce back into her mouth, lest she waste a drop. A second mouthful went the way of the first as she watched a decrepit ship lumber into a nearby berth. The fact that the vessel's origin wasn't instantly recognisable was enough to tell Myke that it was probably a pirate, but it also lacked any serial numbers or identifying marks save for crude letters slapped on the side. Myke's grasp of Batarian was poor at best - although it was far more likely that the ship's name was The Bloody Maiden as opposed to The Beautiful Flower. Whilst continuing to eat, Myke wondered what it would be like to leave Omega on one of the dozens of vessels that came and went every day. Half of her longed for it, while the other half was terrified at the prospect of leaving everything she knew.
A wayward dollop of sauce suddenly fell from her chin, landing squarely on her clothing. She scowled. Ordinarily such an accident wouldn't concern her, but the hoodie she wore was a favourite, a gift from Shepard. The garment was black and unremarkable save for a red and white stripe running down one sleeve, but Myke prized anything Shepard gave her - even an old hoodie shrunk during a wash cycle. As she attempted to mop up the mess with her hand, Mycea saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye. While she was the first to admit that her observational skills left something to be desired, she knew she was being watched – or perhaps it was due to the fact that the hooded stranger no longer made any attempt at concealment. Her initial assumption was that Aria had sent someone to keep tabs on her. It was plausible enough until Myke reminded herself that she was worth little more than shit on a boot to the Queen of Omega.
Or is that how you want her to think of you? Myke argued with herself. Aria was one of the few individuals she hated…and she hated the older asari with every shred of passion she could muster. It suited Myke to think that she was a piece of shit, because it was exactly how Aria made her feel.
The brief thoughts of her sire did not solve her problem. Other than Aria, Myke could think of no one who would waste their time watching her. Despite everything, she still thought of herself as an insignificant nobody. The young asari suddenly felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. She was a nobody who just happened to be friends with the Galaxy's most famous martyr. Her latest mouthful was sitting in her mouth in a congealed lump. She swallowed and nearly choked, wishing she'd thought to buy a drink.
"I can hear you from here, mouth breather," Myke called out after managing to clear her throat. It was an optimistic bluff. She could barely see the figure's outline in the shadows let alone hear them breathe.
Myke risked turning on her perch, her food still clutched in one hand. A glance told her that the stranger was asari. The protuberances of head crests were distinct beneath the hood she wore, even as she stared out at the same view that Myke had previously been enjoying.
When a response wasn't immediately forthcoming, Myke grew impatient. Her food was growing cold and she couldn't bring herself to continue eating whilst being watched. "If you're one of T'Loak's mercs you can piss off now."
The asari turned slowly, deliberately. Myke almost dropped her food as she caught the full force of one of the most intense gazes she had ever seen. Beneath the dark hood, stone-cold eyes regarded her with impassive scrutiny. Seconds felt like hours. Myke felt as though her every thought, her very self, the sum of what made her an individual, everything was being judged in that one stare.
Trust me to find someone even more terrifying than Aria T'Loak, Myke thought, gulping discreetly. The other asari's eyes narrowed and Myke quailed further. Surely she can't read my thoughts? Can she? For Goddess' sake, grow a quad, Kasos! It took a great deal of willpower to square her shoulders and force a semblance of confidence into her expression. However any effort was utterly unravelled when the other asari closed the gap between them in three purposeful strides.
"The detritus of your meal still covers your chin," she announced suddenly. It was no surprise that her voice matched her visage – throaty, rich, and yet emotionless enough to send a chill down Myke's spine. She towered above Myke. Her lithe limbs were clad in an unadorned set of light combat armour. A hood left much of her face in shadow, save for brilliant, piercing eyes.
Myke blinked in disbelief. "You're standing there to tell me I have food on my face?" She dared to drag her sleeve quickly across her chin.
There was no trace of amusement in the tilt of the asari's lips. "I am looking for a human."
"Yeah, so?" Inwardly Myke was still cowering, but she attempted to sound bored. Unfortunately her voice came out with a distinctly high pitch. "Quite a few humans on Omega. Can't say that I know them all."
"It is my belief that you know the particular human I seek," the asari intoned sagely. She nodded toward Myke, indicating the sleeve of her hoodie. "Unless of course you stole that garment?"
Myke bristled at the insinuation. "I'm no thief!"
Warning signals peeled almost audibly between her ears. The realisation that the asari was looking for Shepard made her feel physically sick. Her mind started working rapidly, attempting to figure out a way to leave and warn her friend. However every scenario ended up with her being trussed up or pummelled senseless. With a sudden rush of blood to her head, she tossed her meal over the parapet and stood.
"You'll not find whoever it is you're looking for on Omega," Myke said adamantly. It was at that point that she wished she could use biotics. All she had were words, pitiful sounding words. "If you've got a shred of sense you'll book passage on the first ship out."
Shit, I confront Aria and I think I can take on anyone, Myke thought as the other asari merely looked down on her as though she could squash her flat with a thought. The statuesque asari appeared several centuries her elder. In addition she was almost impossibly impassive in everything – her speech, her mannerisms. There was none of Aria's unbridled passion. This individual reacted to absolutely nothing, not even Myke's pitiful threat. Myke regretted wearing Shepard's old hoodie. It was just so damn comfortable!
"I admire your loyalty, child, but you should know that I can be exceptionally persuasive." The asari then lowered her voice. "You would do well to take me to Commander Shepard."
"Or what?" Myke demanded.
Blue eyes hardened even further. "I had hoped to avoid an unpleasant situation."
"You can avoid it-" As Myke answered, she folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. It helped to keep her hands from shaking "-by fucking off. Even if I did know where the hell this Commander Shepard is, I wouldn't tell some random asari merc."
The asari's response revealed the first hint of emotion Myke had seen creep into her stern features. She cocked her head ever so slightly to one side. For just a moment, a hint of sorrow flashed in her eyes. When she spoke again, her gaze had softened a fraction. Instead of appearing terrifying, she was merely intimidating. "Perhaps then, if you did happen to know where Shepard is, you could pass a message for me?"
"Unlikely," Myke replied, although her curiosity had been piqued.
"I believe that Shepard will see me."
The edge had disappeared from her voice. It was replaced by a quality that was difficult to place - with elements of severity tempered by sorrow, and an undercurrent of persuasion. Myke fought the sudden urge to blurt out everything she knew about Shepard. It was only then that she realised she was trembling slightly.
The other asari continued, "My name is Samara."
TBC...
A/N: So it's been a little while between updates...and I'm probably very rusty, but I'm back. Which is a good thing, right?
