Author's note:

Author got shot for bad pun but refused to remain dead.

A shower later and after trading the tight suit armor for more comfortable pants and a loose fitting shirt, Arek was looking forward to spend a few moments in the lounge. The hot water had soothed his aching muscles, and his frustration with today's mission was washed down the drain along with sweat and dust.

He stroke over his face. The short, red hair covering his chin was his beardy pride; he had given up on a full beard years ago, but maybe he should still have shaved the stray stubble on his cheeks today.

He was glad he didn't when the memory of a mocking voice calling him 'fuzz-face' returned.

Fuck you, porcupine, you're just jealous, as mom would have said! Maybe he should never shave again, only to spite Mojo.

He ran his fingers through his short, still wet hair. Too bad his pay wasn't based on the number of degrading remarks made by Mojo about his hair, his facial hair, his hair being red, his hair existing... He pulled a grimace to make the grim frown disappear, and put on a smile.

Things would turn for the better next time, with Thea now in charge. They'd only have to wait for Rani's recovery, and the lady was tough – as long as she wasn't death, nothing would stop her from jumping back into action. If it weren't for THAT guy, Arek would love his squad.

"Look who's here! Hey, Arek!" the creaking voice of a drell welcomed him the moment the door slid open.

"Kalron! Back from duty already?" He shook his friend's hand and followed him into the lounge. Three squads with four members each added to the crew of the SSV Hamburg, and at least one was usually deployed to a planet or space station, or supported the crew of another cruiser or frigate. Squads were formed from several races, with focus on their abilities. The crew mostly consisted of humans, but over the last two years, the Alliance welcomed whoever was willing to assist, enlisting them as full or temporary members.

Arek saw being assigned to outstanding soldiers like Almathea and Meyrani as an honor, and praise for his skills. It took him some effort, however, not to see Mojo as a personal insult.

"Sure. And from what I heard we did a much better job than you guys. Wine?" Kalron had guided him to the bar and waved for Patrick. The wiry, elderly human had retired from 40 years as a head of the canteen a few years ago, but returned to duty once he heard of the reaper attack. He was in charge of the bar, making sure that the crew were allowed a few moments of recreation between shifts and mission, without overdoing it.

"Beer. Thanks, Patrick. Busy evening?" Not that terms like morning or evening applied in their environment, but as far as Arek was concerned, it was evening the moment he stepped into a bar.

"People always feel a strong need to relax when the high and mighty visited." Patrick gestured at the roughly thirty visitors, and, with a tired smile, he hurried to a pair of asari adepts.

"Poor guy." Arek sipped on his beer. Good, almost as good as those from earth. Could be a little colder though.

On a regular day, rarely more than a dozen crew- or squad members visited the lounge. The room that was quite spacey usually was cramped now, and a whirl of voices flooded the four walls. It was loud, lively, and full with complaints, shouting and bragging. Arek loved it.

"How unfortunate, to end a mission with such a miserable outcome, on the day the Admiral grants us a visit."

Arek allowed himself to smile. Kalron spoke with the solemnity of a priest on a funeral, and he'd do so if he had heard that Arek lost a pencil. He appreciated his friend's sympathy, especially today, because it was genuine, but also amusing.

"Yeah. Talking about bad timing. You heard the story?"

"Not the details, but I know who you have to put up with, and that the two of you were about to jump each other's throat after your talk with Admiral Hackett. I'm glad that Almathea was with you." Now it was the Drell's turn to grin when Arek stared at him in surprise.

"When the fuck did you hear about that?"

"How do you humans call it? News travel fast through the grapevine? You should know, my friend, that in these dark days, your, let's say, confrontations with Mojo have become a means of entertainment to many. I even heard," Kalron leaned closer. He cleared his throat, and whispered, "some of the crew have taken to betting. As far as I'm informed, there are three very popular bets: Who will win a fight, when will it happen, and what will happen first – you two brawling or kissing."

"Ew, God!" Arek coughed, spitting out his drink. Kalron chuckled, and wiped the beer from his face. Arek cleaned his own with the sleeve of his shirt, and emptied his can in one long gulp.

"Is everyone crazy these days?" he spat, after trading his empty drink for a new one. "First off, I will win, secondly, I hope soon, and finally, damn! My morals aren't THAT loose!"

"There are different bets running, depending on if you two agree on ex- or including biotics."

"For the good guy you usually are you're damn well informed about this unofficial gambling ring. Isn't there some kind or law or rule against it?"

They moved away from the bar when a tired looking couple from the engineering deck pleaded for a bottle of scotch.

Arek was greeted from all sides with delighted shouts and slaps on the back, and Kalron patiently waited until his human friend and one of the navigators agreed on a date for another poker game, in private.

"Allow me to say," the drell took the earliest chance to speak, "You'll receive an invitation to dinner when you either win a fight that includes biotics this week, or lose a fistfight, also this week."

"How are the odds?" Arek laughed, and steered towards a corner at the left side of the room. If they were fast enough, they could claim two free seats on that good, old leather couch for themselves. "If it pays off for dinner, and a few drinks in the Dark Star Lounge on Citadel, I might lose on purpose!" He covered the last distance with a jump and slumped into the comfortable cushions before a salarian beat him to it.

"Arek, winning by fraud is not honorable." Kalron sat down next to him, a stern expression on his serious face.

"So is breaking about a dozen rules and at least as many laws to bet on your friend. Oh, fuck it. Talking about breaking about a dozen things." Arek let his head drop against the back of the couch, and poured more beer into his open mouth.

"Is something wrong?"

"Charming company." He pointed at the second couch, standing about two meters away from them. A drell and a turian had occupied most of the sofa, and were engaged in a lively discussion. Arek couldn't understand what they were saying; the tone was hostile, but if he didn't misread their faces, they were enjoying themselves. Well, that was what he read from the drell's face, he was never too sure with turians. And frankly, when it was about Mojo's freaking face, he didn't give a damn if that jerk was enjoying himself or not.

"Great, and I skipped dinner because I wasn't in the mood to see scar-face there." Arek bit the rim of his beer can. "Still can't believe he has a friend."

"I doubt it, I know for a fact that Barat isn't very fond of him. I assume it's more an arrangement born of mutual interests."

"Like what? Both being jerks?"

"That, bragging and both being infiltrators. I overheard them showing off numbers of headshots the other day."

"Bragging over his damn headshot count after it cost us the mission's success, that's Mojo for you." He took another gulp, his fingers slowly tapping on the armrest. "Asshole."

"I'm relieved I bet on 'brawling'" Kalron said with a chuckle. The he sat up, and leaned closer, assuring that nobody overheard them. "Did you hear? About his scar?"

"What about it? Thought he caught a rocket with his face or something satisfying like that."

"It's a rumour, but you did notice how symmetrical it is, and that he's barefaced? Missing a facial tattoo?" he explained when Arek gave him a questioning look.

"It's kinda a big deal among turians, isn't it?"

"Correct. They stand for the colony or tribe they were born into, it's apart of their identity. I overheard a conversation between Marek and Kat from the kitchen crew. There's a rumour that his tribe or colony exiled him. Whatever the reason was, it was bad enough to burn the tattoo from his face, so that nobody may assume he still belongs to them. Banished through and through, if you want to say so." The drell had to catch his breath after gushing the torrent of gossip.

"Wow, really? No wonder he's so damn calm about everything. He's used to being a disgrace."

"I told you, it's a rumor. I didn't ask if there is any proof," Kalron admitted.

"Got it, gonna keep it to myself for now. Let's change the topic to something more important!" A sweet smile brightened his face, he tilted his head, and fluttered his green eyes at his friend. "I want more beer, but I don't wanna leave this spot, ever! Would you get me more?"

"I'm afraid that would work better with Joshua, from navigations. Or Chen, from engineering. Or-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm horrible, I know. But you defend my spot, will you?" With a groan, he pushed himself up. Warm beer on an empty stomach after a day's work hadn't been the best idea. He felt a headache approaching, and he had to stand still for a moment for the room to stop swaying. It would be a good idea to eat something before he drank more, unless he wanted to invite a migraine and a sick stomach. Maybe he could coax Patrick to share his secret stash of snacks with him – for free.

Before began his stroll through the chattering groups he caught his name. No, not really his name, the exact words were 'rusted carpet-face', followed by a laugh that seemed to come with its own echo.

"Fuck you." He turned on his heel, and with one wide step, he placed himself in front of the turian, his back straight, his head held high.

Mojo looked up at him, and sighed.

"Go back to your little buddy. This is a conversation between grown-ups." He waved his hand to shoo him away, turning his shoulder towards Arek.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Arek whistled with his sweetest voice. "And here I thought when you talk about me anyway, I might as well join."

"Too bad that talking about you is far more amusing than talking with you."

A few voices behind Arek snickered.

"Aren't you funny." He nodded at Barat. "Did you tell your friend that it was your fault alone that we blew it today?"

"Aw, don't be sad, I'm sure you'll quickly find something else to blow, won't you?" Mojo's amused voice changed into a sneer of disgust, and the growing crowd around them chuckled.

"Haha, hilarious." Heat flushed over Arek's face. It was one thing when he joked about his own morals, or if friends teased him because he, well, liked to share a bit of fun more than one partner. Having Mojo sneer about his promiscuity was a whole different thing!

"I think you're more in need of a good fuck than I. Too bad I don't know where to find a paper bag big enough to hide your ugly head." There, that earned him a few laughs with the audience. But except for an occasional laugh or chuckle, the crowd around them fell silent. Of course they didn't want to miss another quarrel between everybody's darling Arek and Mojo, whose skill in killing with his rifle was only exceeded by his talent to piss people off. Well, if they wanted to see a show – Arek was only too willing to deliver.

"At least I don't depend on the pity of others to not feel lonely." The turian didn't seem impressed by the fact that a whole room was listening to them, and waiting for his retort. He was still comfortably leaning against the couch's backrest, one leg lying on the other. He took a sip from his drink, and turned back to Barat.

"Where was I before we were interrupted?"

Oh no! This is not over yet! Any reply would do, as long as he wouldn't allow him to leave him standing like he wasn't worth the turian's time.

"Glad to hear it. Guess you'd be very lonely, I mean, who pities an asshole who isn't even wanted by his own family?"

"Arek!" Kalron hissed behind him, but Arek shushed him with a wave of his hand.

Bull's eye! Arek's mouth twitched. Finally, he had his attention. The turian rose from his seat, and, at least a head taller than the human, now looked down on Arek.

"What was that?"

"That? Nothing. Or would you actually calling it a big deal that your own home colony didn't want you? That they kicked you out, but not before making sure no trace of their tattoo was left on your face? Sad story, Mojo, very sad. Need a hug?" His grin faltered when a hand shot forwards and grabbed him by his throat.

"Stop that!" he croaked as the three fingers tightened. A blindly thrown kick hit the turian's leg, but if Mojo flinched Arek missed it.

"It's a lie. You're too stupid to figure out the true story, so you make yourself important with a lie. If I hear you spread it again, I'll snap your neck."

Arek tried to cough, but couldn't push enough air through his throat. The green eyes staring down at him were becoming blurry. Mojo was saying the truth, at least about the part to snap his neck, Arek believed him that much. He wasn't so sure about the rest, but that would have to wait. For now-

The air between them thickened as it turned blue.

The force of the shockwave swept Mojo from his feet back onto the couch. He didn't have enough time to let go of Arek, and dragged him with him. Only when the human fell on top of him his hand loosened the grip.

"Ow, you should gain some fat!"

Standing only a few inches away when the shockwave hit its target tainted his vision blue for a few seconds, but the groan beneath him, and that he could breathe freely again told him it was worth it.

The swelling laughter was boiling over around him, putting an instant grin on his face. He lifted his head, and poked the hard shoulder.

"Well, guess you didn't-" His voice broke into a yelp as a force tightened around his throat for the second time this evening. Next thing he knew was being hurled to the floor.

He blinked the last blur away as he looked up – and met the furious gaze of his squad leader.

"Amalthea, since when have you been standing there..." Well, this was one of the moments where he had better shut up. He held his breath and closed his eyes while Amalthea's wrath burst over him.

"Is that you trying? Is that the worth of your promise when you say you want to try your best? Do you think you can do what you want and ridicule our squad in front the crew because we're friends? If this is your best, Arek, go and resign! I don't need you in my squad if this is the best you are willing to do!" A deep growl rolled with her voice and threatened to drown her words. Her blue of her cheeks changed into a dark purple, and her eyes blackened when she turned around.

"And you, Mojo! Provoked or not, I will not have you threaten and hurt another squad member!"

"Wait." Another figure shoved herself past the raging asari, and took a stand in front of Mojo. "I have to tell you a few things myself, Mojo."

"If you want to appeal to my honor and discipline as a fellow turian, Meyrani, save your breath." Mojo struggled back to his feet, his legs still shaky from the impact, but he was standing straight as he looked down at the smaller turian woman.

Her arm was bandaged and resting in a sling. A crutch helped her to take the weight off her injured leg.

"Don't assume I'm dumb! Amalthea, I apologize for ignoring your order, but," she let go of the crutch. Her hand shot up, and the sharp, pointy claws of her two fingers dug into the skin under Mojo's jaw.

"Mojo, I don't care that you're turian, or what's your real name," she hissed, drilling deeper. "I don't care if you like or hate us, or what you do with your free time. You two want to beat each other up? Fine. You hate everyone of us, good. But if you endanger another mission, if you drag down the honor of the squad, and ridicule my work with your incompetence one more time, I'll slit your throat." She ripped her hand away and wiped it on her shirt, leaving two bluish marks on the white fabric.

"Remember the most important thing about both of us being turian: I know where to place the blade."

"This is a mess..." Amalthea rubbed her neck, looking from Meyrani to Mojo while avoiding to take notice of the audience.

"Wow... I mean, Rani! You're better!" Arek was back on his feet, caught between the urge to fall around her neck, and a sudden hunch that it was maybe a better idea to stay out of reach of any turian present. He cast a sideway glance at Mojo, half expecting him to launch forward and tear Meyrani apart. He noticed the twitching mandibles of the turian's face. This... wasn't a smile, was it? It was sometimes so difficult to tell for him if a turian was amused, or baring his teeth.

"Good, I finally know who I'm dealing with." He wiped the underside of his jaw with the back of his hand and looked at the two drops of smeared blood. "Keep it up, kid."

Arek and Amalthea tensed, ready to go between the two turian when Mojo set in motion. To their surprise, all he did was giving Meyrani a slap on her shoulder as he walked past her on his way out.

"Uh, do I have to be scared of both of you now?" Arek tried to muster up a chuckle, and feared it sounded rather weak, fitting how cold his face felt.

"I wish anybody of you was scared of me," Amalthea sighed before Meyrani could answer. "I know, I'm new to this kind of authority, but could you guys please, please stop attacking and provoking each other? Even if it's hard? I neither want to explain to Crusher nor to Hackett that my squad stabbed each other to death only hours after I was put in charge."

"Can't I blame the alcohol, and Rani her painkillers?" He picked up the crutch and handed it to the turian woman, freeing her from the strain to balance on her one good leg. "I'm sure they filled her up with drugs so she could even stand!"

"Not funny, Arek." Almathea let herself fall onto the free spot of the couch. "What are you looking at? The show's over!" she snapped, and the people surrounding the small group took a step back. "Somebody get me a drink, NOW!" Finally, the crowd dissolved.

"Here." Kalron had slipped away when the commotion had reached its peak, and now returned, handing Amalthea a small bottle filled with a liquid of a pale, rosy color. "Forgive me." He smiled at Meyrani and shrugged. "I wasn't sure what you like and can digest."

"The thought is appreciated." She sat down next to Amalthea, inhaling sharply when her knee bent slightly. "Water has no effect on me, but would be refreshing."

"Understood!" The drell hastened back to the bar. Arek grinned after him.

"You left quite the impression on him, and definitely on me." He considered squeezing himself between the two women, but dropped the thought. Things were uncomfortable enough for Meyrani as they were, and he wasn't sure how angry Amalthea was still with him. He looked around. Other seats close by were taken, and he wished he wasn't dizzy. The growl from his stomach was loud enough to compete with that of the brooding asari. The shockwave had been small, with low impact and reach, but the size of the back hole in his empty stomach seemed to have doubled.

"If it left an impression on Mojo I'll be forever in your debt." Amalthea chugged down her liquor, and stretched out her arms, the muscles flexing under her shirt as she let them rest on the back of the couch. It was an unfair world. Turians were taller than most human, and Amalthea was tall for an asari, so although being of average heigh for a human man, Arek was the smallest of their squad.

And the muscular built of the valkyrie? Arek could only dream of that. He was of an athletic, defined shape, which was more than enough for his job, and it was all he could expect. He had given up on stocking up muscles years ago. As a natural biotic he was powerful enough to stand his ground, but whenever a mission allowed him to catch his breath he admired Amalthea's hand-to-hand combat skills, and with that, her strength. He wouldn't call himself envious, but if he could charge himself among the enemy forces and wreck havoc with his fists as well as with his biotics, he wouldn't complain.

"What is it, Turner?" The asari grinned at him. "In for another round of arm wrestling?"

"And enforce that bad opinion you got of me the last hour? I don't think so. Yo, thanks, Kal!"

The drell had returned with Meyrani's water, and a drink for Arek, and another for Amalthea. "Hey, that's just water!" Arek protested after taking a sip.

"If you'd kissed him I'd have brought you champagne." Kalron crackled at the sight of Arek's wide eyes and wrinkled nose. "I'm sorry, my friend, but if you knew the odds you'd have been tempted, too."

"I don't think want to know. Wait! Didn't you say before-"

"I lied," Kalron replied with a sly grin Arek hadn't believed to ever see in the kind drell's face.

"And I don't want to hear about any of that," Amalthea interrupted. "You, what was your name again, Kalron? Can you do me a favor? Stick around Arek a little while longer this evening and keep an eye on him. If he runs into Mojo again, drag him to the other end of the ship."

"That goes a bit too far, Thea. Don't get me wrong, Kal, you're a good friend to have a round, but I don't need a babysitter! I was just a little tipsy, and yeah, I provoked him, but he started it, and-"

"I ended it, my highlight of the day when I thought it couldn't get any worse."

"Thea, I'm sorry. Today sucked for all of us, and I swear, it won't happen again." At least not like this. If he didn't get too close to Mojo the next time they argued so he couldn't be grabbed, and wouldn't have to counter-attack.

"I hope so." She sat up, her voice suddenly tired. "Arek, as a friend, I understand you. Goddess, he's such a damn jerk, and I can tell you, I wanted to tear him to pieces 17 times this week, I counted. But... you know... being an asshole isn't a crime, and they put him into this squad, and now it's our job to get this thing to work. And you're not helping. What is it about him, Arek? You usually don't give a damn about what people say or think about you."

"Good question." He'd pay money for an answer.

Others had made fun of him before. Well liked as he was, and as easily he made friends, there had always been people who looked down on him. Because he was a biotic, or a human, or a redhead. Some sneered at him because he was 'easy', or just for the fact that others enjoyed his company anyway. Yeah, jealousy was an ugly thing, as his mother used to comfort him when he was young, and if people rather boiled in their own jealousy than having fun with him – their problem. But good God, if that damn turian had perfected a skill, then it was pushing Arek's buttons!

"Wish I had an answer." He shrugged. "Day one, he didn't give a damn about me. Day two, I only needed to breathe and he'd mock me for that. We're specialists in different fields, so rivalry can't be it. Thought he's jealous because people love me and don't like him, but eh, I think he prefers it this way." Although how anyone would prefer being like this is beyond me, but everyone to their own. As long as I'm left alone.

"He just has it in for me, for no reason, and I guess that pisses me off! Might as well give him a reason. But I won't do it again, promised!" He crossed himself, spilling his water over his shirt.

"Is that a human thing? Sealing a promise by wasting water?" Meyrani eyed him with mild curiosity. "Or doesn't the kind of liquid matter?"

"Not really, it's... complicated. Pretend it never happened, okay? Are you staring at my chest?" He pulled his shirt until it stretched tightly over his skin. "Trying to make that Salarian of yours jealous?"

"Sorry, Arek, mind beats matter anytime." Her mandibles moved and bared her teeth, which Arek didn't doubt to be a turian smirk.

"Back to topic, all right? First off, Kalron, be a buddy and get me another." Amalthea waved the empty bottle. The drell bowed, took it from her and hurried to follow her request. She leaned back in her seat and grinned at Arek.

"If you and Mojo shared a bit of his attitude my life would be heaven."

"He has a soft spot for strong women. Would you really want me and Mojo to fall for-"

"I'd rather mate with a thresher maw than hearing you finish that thought! Thanks, Kalron." She took the drink and rose her bottle to the smiling drell. "Back to business. You can prove your resolve sooner than you think, Arek. Commander Crusher got the order to pick up some high brass as soon as the third squad is back, and he's sending us."

"Sweet! Sounds like something even Mojo will have a hard time to fuck up. Where are we going?"

"Omega. If you want to grab a bite and catch some sleep you better hurry. We'll arrive in five hours."