A Fox Amongst The Wolves

by jerseydanielgibson

Marshal Sam Collins has moved to the biggest challenge in her life; creating a Marshal's Office on the Citadel itself. Tensions run high as a young woman stands stalwart against bigotry and oppression amongst the predators in the stars to represent her kind. Can an Autistic Savant cop prove to the galaxy what a human can do, or end up the fox amongst a pack of hungry wolves?

4. Human Lives Matter, III

Mass Effect is owned by THEM! You know who THEM are! FrostBioEAWareBite…

Apartment 2905, 1040 Block Mid-Wards, Human Wards, Zakera Arm, The Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, June 16 2175

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Return Of The Smexy! NSFW!

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Alliance Federal Marshal Samantha Lynn Collins woke up the next morning on a Saturday, a traditional day off for most Government employees. Laying in her bed in her bedroom, she looked over next to her to see Petty Officer First Class Jane Catherine Shepard laying next to her, the Non-Com already awake and looking upon her, a smile of satisfaction upon the redhead's lips as her green eyes traced over Sam, one of her hands slipping onto the soft skin of her abdomen, tracing the slight muscular bulges of her abdominal muscles with a gentle fingertip. Sam smiled at the show of affection as Jane leaned over to give a kiss, soft lips pressing into her own tenderly as the redhead pulled away a minute later, still smiling at her.

"Sleep well, babe?" Shepard asked, her tone mirthful as her eyebrows juked up twice to indicate a lot more than a seemingly innocuous question. Much to Sam's surprise, Jane had rather liked the bedroom when she saw it for the first time last night. She had absolutely fallen head-over-heels in regards to the strange anatomically shaped bed representing a part of a female's anatomy. Sam hadn't slept in it yet (she couldn't bring herself to) but had done so last night in Jane's arms. Surprisingly, the bed was actually very comfortable, the mattress made of some warming gel that not only reached a temperature close to the user's own, but slightly conformed to the body's natural curves and shape, increasing the chance of a comforting sleep. It was really quite exquisite.

"The parts that I slept, yes." Sam replied with a smile of her own, remembering Jane's enthusiasm when the young woman admitted that she hadn't even slept in the bed yet. Shepard had gotten rather playful after that comment. She was still tracing Sam's abs with a finger, loping around each in figure eights, moving up, then down, and then to the other column, repeating the process. "Are you… trying to seduce me?" Sam looked at where Jane was stroking her skin as the redhead's hand slipped along the crevice in between her abs, dipping towards her navel and slowly sliding downward.

"Mmmmmaybe." Shepard replied teasingly, her eyebrows twitching upward again, her playful grin turning wolfish as Sam shivered when Jane's fingers found a sensitive spot and slowly began to exploit it. "Pretty certain Stacy and Royce are already up and moving, so we don't have to worry too much about waking up the neighbors." The younger woman gave off a light gasp as Jane lightly pinched the spot she had been focusing on, kneading it gently.

"You're… incorrigible." Collins forced out as she shivered, feeling a gentle aching throb slowly growing in the pit of her belly, reacting to Jane's rather obvious advances.

"It's a talent, I'm sure." Jane leaned over and nuzzled Sam's head, getting the younger woman to move her head over so the redhead could kiss the sensitive skin along her neck and shoulder. The woman, damn her, knew what she was doing. "I didn't hear you complaining last night about it."

"Not complaining now… either." Sam let off in-between soft breathy gasps as she felt the ache in her growing pleasantly, feeling soft lips alternating between kissing and nibbling on her sensitive neck while she felt Jane's fingers slowly sliding downward, the traveled path eased by lubricating fluids as Sam let off a moan as fingers found their way into her, pushing past soft lips and brushing against sensitive flesh. "You… are a brute, Jannie."

"Are you asking for me to be a brute?" The redhead whispered into her ear with a very satisfied tone as Sam whimpered slightly as the fingers slowly worked their way in deeper, the aching feeling they brought growing stronger the deeper they went, sliding against the responsive walls inside of her as Sam mewled with sweet agony. "Because I can be a brute, if you like." Jane demonstrated by pressing her fingers in deeper, brushing against a very sensitive spot deep inside of her, making Sam shiver as her breath caught in her throat. The ache was growing fierce within her as Jane began to slide her fingers in and out slowly, rubbing against the sensitive flesh, stimulating the nerves that would bring her towards what she was craving; ecstasy. "I want to hear you moan and call out my name." The redhead whispered into her ear as she nibbled on her lobe, making Sam pant as Jane's hand continued to work inside of her, slipping in and out of her as she curled her fingers deep inside of her to bring her aching desire closer to fulfillment. "I want to feel you cave in and submit to me." Sam whimpered, feeling the muscles deep inside of her growing taunt, squeezing against her throbbing aching flesh, the intensity building in crescendo. "I want to make you mine."

"Jannie… please…" The younger woman moaned, her eyes closing tight as she fought to keep the pressure growing within her contained, the fierce need crying for release denied for as long as possible. She relished the intensity that threatened to burst forth from her, the throbbing pressure that was consuming her making her feel lightheaded and euphoric. The carnal craving for satisfaction was trying to win over her want for that peak of physical want, to hold herself there as the redhead brushed her fingers along the wet, aching channel inside of her, tightening upon her flanges in expectation and fulfillment. "Please! Please… pleasepleaseplease…" She couldn't hold it back anymore as Sam opened her eyes and looked right into the emerald orbs of the woman she loved, gasping for what she wanted, begging for her lover to fulfill her.

"If you insist." Jane smiled as she thrusted her hand deep inside of her hard and furious, the tips of her fingers hammering against that sensitive spot deep inside of her, sending powerful waves of unfiltered excitement and stimulation throughout her, her body reacting to the brute act by arching her back and her pent-up desires exploding from within her with a force that sent her into a dizzying gasp of deep satisfaction and electrified completeness as Jane slowly worked her hand against Sam's twitching vaginal muscles to milk her orgasm to its last aching conclusion as the younger woman slowly relaxed, sinking back onto the mattress as she looked up into Jane's eyes, feeling content as she laid there, sweaty and somewhat covered by her own orgasmic secretions. "I can't get enough of you, you know?" Jane said softly as she brushed her lips against Sam's, kissing her softly. "I feel like I've finally found what I've been missing all this time but never knew. Someone worth having, someone worth working to better myself, to be better for."

"Then I am glad." Collins replied, feeling exhausted but energized as she slipped her arms around the Petty Officer, the need to feel closer to her strong. "I am glad that you feel this strongly about someone, and that I am that person. We should always strive to do better for ourselves, to be better. And I like that I can share that with someone who can recognize the effort and success."

"I know what you mean." Jane murmured as she looked into Sam's eyes, those magnificent green eyes looking at her with personal satisfaction, not just physical. "I was thinking about the Military Academy before, how I wanted to go because I wanted to be a Commissioned Officer, to feel like I was accomplishing something greater in my life. While I still feel that way, now I want that challenge because I want to prove myself, to reach that obstacle and defeat it. I want to do it for myself, but I also want to be able to share it, to have someone appreciate my efforts and struggles to accomplish my goals. And I know you would, and I know that you will be doing the same, working hard to make this all work out." Jane gestured to their surroundings, indicating the Human Wards. "You have the harder path, Samantha, but I like to think that I help by making that path just a little bit better and brighter by having someone there to share it with, to encourage you, to hold you during the tough days. I may not be as smart as you are, but I know that even someone as dedicated as yourself needs someone to help them through it all 'lest it be a lonely life."

"Well said, and thank you." Sam lifted her head to kiss Jane, smiling as she did so. "Now we need to take a shower. I know I smell like morning sex. But first?" The younger woman gave off a grin as she turned Jane over so that she was lying on her back. "I'm going to be returning the favor." The brunette looked the redhead in the eyes as she lowered herself downward on her body, sliding her head in-between Jane's thighs.

"You are such a fucking tease, Samantha." The Petty Officer replied as her voice petered off into a self-satisfied moan of pleasure.

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Author's Note: WARNING - These next couple of sections are not pleasant. They will deal with mentions of torture and sadism, and an individual suffering immense pain.

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Master Chief Petty Officer Stacy Michelle Valentino sat at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee at her elbow and a Daily News-subscription datapad in her right hand as she read through the going-ons of Earth Alliance Space as she usually did in the mornings whenever she was on a boat and not much else was going on. She mostly ignored the claptrap of sensational media fucktards spewing drivel to the masses, showing just how ignorant reporters and staff writers could be to any concept that wasn't related journalistically, often sounding like a bunch of whiny children that hammered upon the 'big topics' of scandals and soundbites while missing out on important details.

The politics page was mostly crap (some EarthGov Terra Firma Party Senator opened his or her mouth and everyone cringed), and the news out in the colonies was, as always, fifty-fifty on the good news/bad news scale. It seemed like Watson was finally able to support cyanobacteria outside in the environment in the low-pressure, low-oxygen planet that was both mineral-rich and contained dense metallic ores such as iridium and uranium for mining, while Benning was once again having another civil unrest fiasco. Stacy was rather glad she wasn't in the Marshal's Office on that planet.

She selected one story while taking a sip from her Kuerig-brewed coffee about the case against Garm Kanador Jor'raddah, known as Jor'raddah the Jackal. A soundbit at the trial espoused how Garm had refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Systems Alliance Court of Laws, like that would have done anything. There was, interestingly enough, about a dozen prosecuting attorneys from that many governments each trying the Jackal at the same time, the Alliance hosting the trail with three separate Justices to preside for fairness and legality, one being an Alliance Judge, another being a Hierarchy Justice, and the last being a Citadel-appointed Asari Judicial Councilor. The Jackal didn't stand a chance in hell as his defense attorney, a Hegemony-appointed Defense Representative, objected to every charge with a slue of racial epitaphs and denial of basic rights towards his client, as if anyone were trying to starve or torture the Jackal.

The trial was a big-ticket item on the news, probably in all sectors of Council Space. The Turian Prosecuting Attorney had been recorded in saying how interested he would be discovering how to 'peel' a Batarian like a fruit, his mandibles twitching psychotically. The Elcor representative from the Dekuunan Confederacy had a rather laughable comment as well; he was (with all honesty:) going to crush the life out of the Jackal. And that was a species that was normally considered pacifists! Stacy looked up why and found out that the Jackal had killed an Elcor cow he had been holding hostage. That was a big no-no. Even Krogan were smart enough not to mess with Cows, knowing fully well that Bulls were larger and stronger than even they were.

There was an electronic knock on the door.

Stacy looked around and sighed, seeing that, typical lazy Saturday morning-style, she was the only one up and about. Senior Chief Petty Officer Royce Mason was actually looking for gyms to join for both himself and her, and Marshal Sam Collins and Petty Officer Jane Shepard had yet to leave 'their' room; Stacy didn't need a star map to figure that one out. The blonde woman sighed as she stood up from the stool, taking both datapad and coffee cup with her, figuring that it was probably Captain Alec Ryder at the door, about the only other person who knew where Sam lived.

Stacy looked at the holographic monitor that served as a peephole viewer, and was shocked to see a Turian at the door. A female one, at that. Carrying what appeared to be the Turian version of a Navy SeaBag…

"The Legio." Valentino realized, seeing the Haliat Armory Light Legionus Armor that all enlisted crewmembers wore on Hierarchy ships, the medium versions given to their Non-Coms, and the heavier ones to their Officers. She had seen the Turian Sailor in the lobby waiting for her interview appointment, and Stacy had done nothing but stare daggers at the Turian during the wait, never saying a word to her. Surprisingly, Jane had actually talked to the Turian for a few minutes, some make-nice conversation that showed that Jane didn't necessarily have issues with Turians; Batarians were her passionate hate, and Jane likely would date a Turian before ever making nice with a Batarian. Stacy wasn't sure how the Legio found Sam's apartment, or why she was here. Perhaps Collins had invited her? Val made a judgment call, remembering her conversation with Sam the previous night, and opened the door.

There stood Legio Nysiana Velyanis, looking as if she had gotten the absolute shit kicked out of her.

"Aw, fuck." Stacy could see the Turian trying to muscle through the pain, her alien eyes wincing as her limbs twitched and spasmed, obviously injured. Several of her plates looked cracked and deformed, and some of the softer tissues that the plates didn't protect were discolored and swollen in places. The Turian didn't say a word; her eyes downcast as she held onto her bag, pride the only thing keeping her standing.

"I… don't know where else to go, Centurion." The female whispered, her flanged voice tinged with pain, unable to look Val in the eye. She had gotten the shit kicked out of her, and Stacy had a nasty suspicion who and why. The tone she had was filled with shame, Turians not likely to come to a superior for aid and succor; to do so was to admit defeat and/or failure. The fact that she had was saying a great deal, and none of it good.

"Get in, Legio. I'll scare up a First Aid Kit." The Master Chief said, standing to one side as she jerked her thumb towards the interior of the apartment. Velyanis merely nodded meekly as she entered into the apartment, looking around with widened eyes at the opulent domicile. "Let me get your bag, and you sit in one of those stools by the Galley, and stay put." The female had addressed her as Centurion; a low-ranking Officer in the Hierarchy. Technically, Stacy would be considered a Tesserarius in the Hierarchy, a Guard Commander and third-in-command of a Centuor or a Diviso in the Navy. If the female was going to address her as a superior, then Stacy would make sure that she wouldn't do anything to get herself injured any further. Velyanis unshouldered her bag, wincing as she did so, Stacy taking it and setting it by the door as Nysiana limped towards the kitchen, limping badly at that. Stacy knew what that limp represented.

They had broken her spurs; a Turians' Achilles heel.

Stacy immediately went and slid herself under the Turian's arm, hearing the Sailor wince as the Master Chief helped her towards the stool, her mind racing. They reached the piece of furniture, and the Legio audible sighed in relief as she sat on the stool, still holding herself in a way that indicated that she must have been very badly injured. Mother of God, but Stacy knew what they did to her.

It had been a Prodiderat sentencing and execution.

"Sam! Jane! Here, quick!" Stacy hollered as she looked to the Turian female, knowing what might have been done to her. Gone was the purple face-paint of her clan (though as she understood it, it wasn't her family clan), leaving her barefaced; honorless. Several of her faceplates were obviously deformed from strikes and beatings, some chipped and others fractured from the blunt force trauma, likely from the buttstocks of Elanus Risk Control Services' M-15 Vindicators. She was cradling one taloned hand close to her body, holding it palm-up and in a way that probably meant that her hand was broken somewhere. But that's not what scared Val. Even the broken spur wasn't the worst thing she could think of.

Velyanis's eyes were drooping, and Stacy had to catch her before she passed out and fell onto the floor, her injuries too severe, having pushed herself too hard and too far to the one possible safe location she knew of. She must have gone from her post on a Turian Hierarchy vessel to a Citadel Public Transportation Authority Lot to rent an Aircar, gone to the Human Wards, and ascertained where Marshal Collins had lived and walked there with broken spurs and Lord knew what else. Nysiana… had to be the toughest son of a bitch Stacy could think of. Both Collins and Shepard came out of their room, both hastily dressed with their hair wet from a shower interrupted when Sam's eyes went wide at the sight of the slumped Turian being held by Stacy.

"It's Legio Nyisana Velyanis, Sam. They hung her by her fucking spurs and beat her with rifles. We need medical attention, someone with knowledge in Turian physiology that isn't a part of the Hierarchy. An Asari or a Salarian in one of the Citadel Hospitals might suffice, but…" The Texan could feel her heart quake in pain and rage at the thought of what they might have done to the Turian.

"They might have peeled her, Sam. They might have ripped off her plates."

"Oh, fuck…" Shepard gasped, covering his shocked face with both of her hands as Collins went pale at the thought. Stacy doubted either one of them had ever seen such an act, but probably knew of it. Stacy, sadly, had seen it before. "What can we do?" Jane asked immediately as she went to Stacy's side, helping her hold up the female.

"Leave her armor on. It's… all we can do besides keeping her from getting further injuries." The Master Chief replied as the Petty Officer nodded, looking at Nysiana's ruined face and biting back words. "Get a washcloth with some water, and at the least we can help her keep cool. Turian bodies heat up when their injured, and they can burn out from it if not careful. She walked here on broken legs." Shepard's face fell at the sound of that. "Carry her to a couch, and we'll prop her up as best we can."

"Hierarchy?" Shepard asked, looking to Stacy with alarmed eyes, and got a nod from the Texan. "Fucking bastards."

"Hey, are you anywhere on or near the Citadel?" Sam was talking to a communicator piece linked to her Apple Corps iTool, obviously not calling a clinic, Stacy realized. She was calling someone else. "Look, I need a favor, and it's a big one." The Marshal looked over as the two women carried the Legio onto a living room couch, easing her as gently as they could onto the cushions, the unconscious Turian letting off a slight moan of pain as they did. "I need a Doctor who is knowledgeable in Turian Emergency Trauma Care, probably surgery as well. NOT a Hierarchy Barber-Surgeon; an Asari or a Salarian will do if need be." Stacy took the wet cloth that Jane had dashed off to get after laying the Turian down on the couch, and the Master Chief placed it along the Legio's exposed neck, wincing at the sight of her cowl, which was beaten and deformed under the soft cloth of her armor. She was actually surprised Nysiana had her mandibles still, though both looked discolored.

"Look, I've got a Turian here who is very seriously injured, and she limped here because she thought this might be the only safe place she knew, and I'm practically a Goddamn stranger to her. She's in my care and protection, and I don't give a shit about whether or not if its proper or legal in the Hierarchy Code of Honor or not, Nihlus. I… Will… Not… Stand… For… It." Sam was in full Marshal Mode, her voice hard and commanding, not to be fucked it. Velyanis whimpered in her unconscious state and Stacy turned her attention back to her patient, seeing those beaten and fractured faceplates shrivel and wince in pain. The Texan steeled herself for the worst as she took the uninjured hand of Nysiana Velyanis into her own and held it.

"Hold on, kiddo." Stacy whispered to the Turian, who was blissfully blacked out.

"You're amongst friends, now."

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Half an hour of waiting is what it took for Centurion Magnus Nihlus Kryik to arrive with an Asari Physician pushing a small hover lift with supplies upon its platform when the electronic knock came. Not once had Master Chief Stacy Valentino left the side of Legio Nyisana Velyanis, who had regained semi-coherent consciousness within the past minute or so. Senior Chief Royce Mason had returned already when Marshal Sam Collins contacted him, asking him to return, the Non-Com taking one look at the injured Turian and his face going murderous. Petty Officer Jane Shepard, likewise, was at the Turian's side, speaking soothing words to her when Nysiana came to, whimpering when she had awoken, not knowing where she was and unable to identify who was kneeling above her. Jane was brushing the softer part of Nysiana's skull behind her short fringe, trying to calm her down and reassure her that she was not in any danger, using a cool cloth to dab at her overheated soft flesh. There was literally nothing else they could do for the female Turian other that to keep her as cool and as comfortable as possible in her grievous state. Velyanis was merely murmuring and babbling, not making much sense as she cried out once with some memory of what happened to her.

"Sam." Kryik entered into the domicile when Collins let in her new visitors, the Turian Blackwatch Commando's eyes going immediately to the couch that the Turian was on, moving towards the patient. "I brought Hospitallar Shayana B'mora, an Asari Doctor specializing in several species. She is one of us, she can be trusted." Stacy knew what that meant; the Asari was a SPECTRE Doctor. Kryik had come through.

"Good." Collins replied, her voice tense and angry, her fury caged but still waiting to be let loose. "Stacy mentioned a Prodiderat, and… we're afraid someone might have peeled some of her plates off. We don't know what to do."

"Goddess." Hospitallar B'mora shook her head, her turquoise face going shocked. "Let me have a few moments to pull out the necessary equipment and supplies for such a thing, but you should know…" The Asari looked over to Velyanis, and then to Sam. "There will be little I can do save prevent infection and further injury. Let me treat her first and then I shall go over options of treatment and recovery if that is the case."

"Thank you, Doctor." Sam bowed her head for a moment, stepping out of the way to give the Hospitallar the space and time she needed to prepare. "Nihlus? You and I are going to have words after this."

"Understood." The Turian male nodded, undoubtedly knowing that something like that was going to happen, seeing Sam in such an agitated state. "She'll need to be stood up if you want to take her armor off. Chances are, if they have peeled her, then it might be… adhered to her wounds."

"I'll hold her, you take off her armor." Stacy volunteered, looking to the female Turian, who seemed semi-cognizant of what was happening. "Nessie? Hey, I'm going to pick you up, and we're having an Asari Hospitallar look at you, okay?" Stacy said in the kindest voice she could muster, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She was all but dead certain they had peeled the Legio. She wouldn't be whimpering this badly from her other injures, even her broken spurs. "What I want you to do is hold onto me the best you can, and when it hurts, I want you to squeeze me, okay? I can take it, but we need to remove your armor."

"Nnnoooo…" The Turian moaned, her voice barely lucid as her eyes lolled about slightly, hovering in and out of awareness. God, the female knew what was about to happen, knew what was going to have to happen. Stacy looked up to the Asari Doctor and shook her head once, blinking away the tears that threatened to cascade down her face. "P-p-please."

"We need to treat you, Nessie. It's going to hurt, but we'll be able to make it better, okay." Stacy soothed the Turian, seeing her gold-green oval eyes fluttering for a moment and then snapping to hers, focusing on her. "We can do this together, Legio. I will hold you up, and all I need you to do is hold onto me and squeeze when it hurts."

"O…okay." Velyanis' pained voice replied as Val grabbed one of her hands, helping the Turian sit up first, a gasp of pain coming from her mandibles as she did so, contained by sheer force of will. The Master Chief leaned her torso towards her as Stacy shouldered her up, the Turian's triceps going onto her shoulders to ease the burden on her broken spurs as Nysiana gasped sharply, but let no other noise out, holding back whatever she was feeling. The Texan slowly turned to where the Turian's back was facing Nihlus, going the Blackwatch member a nod. Kryik took a breath as he moved towards the whimpering female, slowly unclasping the armor's lock points at the top of her shoulders to release the backplate. When it didn't just fall off, he frowned.

"She's… Spirits, it's her back." The SPECTRE said, his voice… hollow. "Her armor's adhered to her wounds from clotted blood and other fluids. There's… really only two ways to do this." Nihlus' mandibles drooped as he looked to the Asari. "Fast and painful, or slow and painful."

"M-make… it-t… q-q-q-quick." The female sucked in her breath, already wrapping her arms around Stacy tight as she prepared herself for the inevitable. "Spirits, grant me strength." Her whisper was hardly there as she prayed, and Stacy held on tighter, looking to Nihlus and giving him a nod, bracing herself for the worst. The SPECTRE's talons went to the armor, and much like a band-aid, took it off in one motion.

Nysiana screamed, an ear-piercing shrike of utter pain as Stacy held her up, her arms underhooking Velyanis' armpits as the Turian's arms squeezed her hard, almost crushing the breath out of her as she howled in pain, louder than any scream Val had ever heard from another being, sapient or animal. The back piece clattered to the ground and the blonde could smell the tang of blood whiffing from the injury now exposed. Shepard's eyes went wide at the sight as her face immediately went green, and the Petty Officer rushed towards the kitchen to puke violently into the sink at the sight. Royce, who had been standing by Jane, looked green as well, closing his eyes and turning away from the sight in utter disgust. Sam looked as if she had been struck, her body swaying slightly as her face went very pale at first, and then very, very hard, her eyes focusing on the sight. Doctor Shayana B'mora looked almost as if she were going to be sick as well, though she was able to control herself. Nihlus looked… dazed, muttering. Nysiana's screams turned to tearful cries, whimpers of agony that wracked her body.

"M-m-mercy…. p-p-please!" Velyanis begged, holding onto Stacy tight, her head pressed into the Non-Com's shoulder as she cried, her sobs loud and hard. "S-spirits, give me peace!" The Legio was begging to die.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Nessie. You're doing fine." Stacy said, doing her best to be soothing as she stroked the back of the Turian's head, hoping to give her some measure of comfort as hot tears poured down her cheeks, unable to stop them. "You are alive, and you are not alone. We stand strong, and we stand together. Now let the Doctor do her job so we can get you healed and back on your feet. We're here for you, and you are not going to face this alone. You've made it this far, we'll help you the rest of the way, okay Nessie?"

"O-okay." The voice was weak and horse from the screaming cries and the whimpers of pain as Nysiana held on, Stacy never budging an inch as the Hospitallar came forward with an auto-injector for the pain, giving her a dextro-chilarity local anesthetic to dull the pain that was undoubtedly radiating from her back. The female Turian whimpered slightly as her sobs lessened, and the weight of her increased as she grew flattened and uncoordinated, unable to give any respite even on her broken legs.

"I have a portable table set up. Please lay her upon her chest so I can start with her back." Doctor B'mora ordered, and Nihlus complied by physically moving the table closer to Velyanis, almost right next to her as Stacy shifted the weight of the Turian slightly to move her onto its plastiglas surface. The Sailor whimpered only slightly as Val moved her onto the portable operating table, Nihlus helping by lifting her legs above her spurs to adjust them without making the broken spurs any worse. The Hospitallar attached two small disk-like devices to her temples as she touched one, and a Holographic Interface Visor appeared before her eyes, tinted green as she moved to her first piece of instrumentation; another auto-injector that was undoubtedly filled with antibiotics. Stacy felt tentative talons brush her hand, and she saw that Nyisana had slipped her uninjured hand into her own, holding it gently, careful not to accidentally stab her with her talon tips.

"Please… stay. Help me… through the pain." The Sailor pleaded, her voice slightly slurred and weak as she tilted her head slightly to look at Val, the sight of it breaking the Texan's heart. God, the Legio was so damn scared and hurt, she was turning to a human for comfort! Sam surprised her by pulling up a chair for her, the Marshal nodding her head to her, her dancing blue eyes expressive, her face filled with worry. Stacy took a seat, never letting go of that taloned had as she sat in front of Velyanis where the Legio could easily see her. What was she suppose to say to a female that had the skin torn off her back? Who had been beaten to an inch of her life, her legs broken, and her back plate ripped off? There were no words that she could think of, no saying or quote that could come close to bringing any measure of comfort to this poor creature. But for some reason, Stacy thought of a memory that she had honestly forgotten about, something back from her childhood.

She had been born near El Paso Juarez in a farming bloc to grow as much food as possible when global food shortages was the biggest issue around pre-Prothean Discovery. Her mom, like most others in the bloc, was a farmer tilling soil and picking crops on the hopes to extend humanity another decade or so. But before the ecosphere crashed in the early 2130's, her mother had been a singer in a fairly popular band, playing in clubs and venues. She had only seen moderate success, but had pursued her dream of being a musician before the environment sputtered and backfired all throughout Earth.

Stacy had grown up listening to her mother singing softly when picking tomatoes and corn, or whenever they lived in their communal rooms, given board by the mega-ranch they worked off of. Lisa Valentino had a beautiful voice that had been ruined by the growing pollution and rising carbon trioxides counts, singing while she worked even when her voice no longer sounded so sweet, sometimes cracking and sputtering. Music had always been her mother's passion, and sometimes, if Stacy thought long and hard about it, she could still remember her voice softly singing away. Her mom had been dead for years now, since before the First Contact War, but the reminder was bittersweet as Stacy remembered one song her mother sung to her whenever she was ill from the pollution and smog, a song she had written. And while she could never hold a candle to her mother's voice, the act of it had her smiling all the same.

Stacy began to sing.

"I… have wondered about you.
Where will you be, when this through?
If all… if all goes as planned.
Will you redeem, my life again?
My life again?

Fallow fields the wheat is sown,
Water down your empty soul.
Awake the seed of silent hope,
Water down your empty soul.
Fight your foes you're not alone,
Holy war is on the phone.
Asking to please stay on hold,
The bleeding loss of blood runs cold.

And I need you to recover,
Because I can't make it on my own…
And I need you to recover,
Because I can't make it on my own…

I… have wondered about you.
Where will you be, when this through?
If all… if all goes as planned.
Will you redeem, my life again?
My life again?

And I… have wondered about you.
Where will you be, when this through?
And if all… if all goes as planned.
Will you redeem, my life again?
My life again?

And I need you to recover,
Because I can't make it on my own…
And I need you to recover,
Because I can't make it on my own…
And I need you to recover,
Because I can't make it on my own…
And I need you to recover,
Because I can't make it on my own…
On my own…
I'm on my own…

"My mother use to sing me lullabies." Nysiana murmured, the anesthetic and the injuries taking their toll on the Turian female as the Hospitallar worked, taking a salve of MediGel mixed with gene-grown bonding materials meant to help protect and heal damaged flesh, to promote new growth of skin, taking a pair of disinfected gloves and gently rubbing dollops of the white creamy substance upon her back. Velyanis tensed up at the feeling at first, but relaxed when the instinct to protect herself faded away with the realization that the act was beneficial. Her eyes drooped slightly as Stacy held her taloned hand. "You have a pleasant voice, Centurion."

"It's Master Chief, but you can call me Val." The blonde woman smiled. "My friends call me Val."

"I'd… like that." The Turian's eyes drooped further as her head laid upon the table, breathing normally, unconscious once more. Stacy looked to the Doctor, her visor-hidden eyes reading whatever display was coming up on the obvious medical-related piece of equipment she wore, unlike anything she had ever seen.

"Her vitals are within normal perimeters, Master Chief." The Hospitallar said softly as she concentrated. "The salve will help promote healing, but I am afraid that it will only heal her wounds. It will not regrow her plates."

"I know." Stacy replied, frowning. That was the whole point of the punishment, after all. "They labeled her a betrayer, and they made it easier for someone to betray her in the future by leaving her back vulnerable."

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

"Nihlus," Marshal Sam Collins began as she gently but insistently pulled the Turian Blackwatch Commando into the other spare bedroom she had, unoccupied for the time being, "I will warn you that I am not mad at you. But I am extremely angry. So if I yell at you, I want you to know the difference, and that our friendship is not in question." The SPECTRE nodded, obviously seeing that this was needed. "What… in the fuck… is THAT!" Sam's hand jerked towards the main portion of the apartment, where Legio Nysiana Velyanis laid.

"That shouldn't have happened." Centurion Magnus Nihlus Kryik replied, his voice subdued as he shook his head. "Yes, there are punishments in the Hierarchy that pertain the use of hanging one by one's spurs, another in which one is beaten by their own unit, and a third in which peeling of plates is the punishment. Having said that, I extremely doubt your Legio has committed any offense that would warrant such punishments. Having said that, who is she?"

"Legio Nysiana Velyanis, granddaughter of some Legion Legate back on Taetrus. Got surrounded and captured." That had Nihlus' mandibles twitch, probably a grimace to indicate his view on that. "I know, Turian viewpoint and all. That being said, she had some mark of shame or cowardice as face paint, was still a Tier-Three citizen after almost five years serving in the Hierarchy Navy, and they had her shoveling shit in a Dreadnaught. Human viewpoint? That's utter fucking bullshit. I know there are some examples in human history where something like that has happened, so we're not exactly on a high-and-mighty horse here, but that's just… barbaric." Sam wasn't afraid to use a word that seemed to be pinned upon the human race when others were concerned. "She wanted to serve her people but they kept her in that bilge hold scrapping s'kak. She was punished for a crime she never committed. So… she found the listing for Marshal Deputies and I gave her an interview yesterday.

"She's one of mine, Nihlus."

"This… explains much." The SpecOps Warrior replied, thumbing a mandible with his thumb talon. "I can't say I know why they did it, but I think I understand now. You are right; they punished her for what her grandsire did, and that is sadly something we do. I don't agree with it personally, but I've seen it plenty." The Turian shook his head sadly. "I can only imagine that they must have discovered the fact that Legio Velyanis was trying to become a Marshal Deputy, or something similar. Legally, any sort of charges of betrayal is done by the High Military Tribunal on Palaven. If you had attempted to hire her only yesterday? Someone went too far. A Turian trying to be hired as a human Civil Protective Services Officer does not look good, but would not suffer legal repercussions, merely social and status repercussions, such as loss of meritocracy tier and possibly loss of citizenship. But someone such as her… someone took it personal, and they overstepped their bounds by a great deal. If they had taken her to the Tribunal, she might have been punished considering who she is, but none of those punishments would have been meted. Probably loss of citizenship and exile, but not being hung by one's spurs until they snap, beating by one's own unit, or removal of plates. Those are literally our worst punishments, by far worse than Capital Punishment by firing squad. The fact that they did all three to her is beyond appalling. What ship was she serving? Did she say?"

"The THV Valiant Resolution. Dreadnaught-Class." Collins realized that a Dreadnaught was commanded by an Admiral, and in the Hierarchy Navy, an Admiral was an incredibly powerful authority figure, at least Tier-Eighteen in the Meritocracy, depending on rank and Fleet Status. A Legio's word against that of a Pretorius Legatus? The Marshal doubted the Hierarchy would even give them the time of day. "Is there anything we could do?"

"Realistically, very doubtful." The Blackwatch Commando replied with a sigh, seemingly understanding Sam's distress. "I know that does not please you, and to tell you to let it slide would offend you. I am telling you this because if you made the attempt…" Nihlus' brown mandibles twitched slightly, "I do not see the situation improving at all. It might make it even worse, having a high-ranking Turian such as an Admiral as an enemy. I would go with what Legio Velyanis might want. Talk to her when she has made some headway into recovery, see how she thinks of the situation. She may wish just to move on past it, and no matter how you feel about it, I believe that you should respect her wishes on the matter. If she seeks to enact legal recourse, I can look up some of our laws and who would be best to look into the matter, as well as talk to her so she understands what she might get into. She…" The SPECTRE looking in the direction of the patient, and though a wall blocked their view, Sam could tell that Nihlus cared, that this situation bothered him fiercely. "She truly made her way here from her ship? With her injuries?"

"Yes." Collins replied quietly, unable to imagine it. She had no idea of the Valiant Resolution was docked on the Citadel or not, or if they had cast her away on a shuttle and dumped her off. "I didn't tell her where I lived, so she must have went to a public terminal or AVINA and asked for directions, figuring… God, I must have been her only Goddamn choice." A bitter pang of guilt stabbed into heart. "This wasn't what I wanted, Nihlus. She came to me looking to be something taken away from her by others due to her grandfathers' actions, looking to be a part of something denied to her because of what the Hierarchy did. She wanted to be a cop in Civil Protective Services, but I imagine she was probably looking at a lifetime of shitscrapping in Orlop Decks throughout the Navy, not much better than a slave." The Turian male said nothing to that, though the reference obviously didn't sit well with him by the look at his faceplates. "I could hear that determination, Nihlus, that force of will that had her walk through the door of a human government building to give it a shot, no matter how incredibly unlikely a shot she might have had. I can only imagine what her life must have been that she was pursuing a Systems Alliance Government job listing site and saw my posting, for her to look at it and say to herself 'I will try, if only so that I can say that I did something'. I wonder if she ever realistically thought it might work out."

"That does show some incredible determination." The SpecOps Warrior replied, nodding his head slowly. "Can… I ask a favor out of you?"

"Of course." Collins replied, folding her arms and looking to the Turian. "What is it?"

"I know… that you are quite angry right now." Nihlus began, his flanged voice soft. "As you should be. You see Nysiana Velyanis as one of your own, and I know the sight must hurt you personally. I first want to say that you had nothing to do with this; this was not your fault. Nysiana made her choice coming to your Office, and you gave her… you gave her something she has probably been looking for her entire life; a chance to prove herself." The brown-plated Turian went quiet with that for a moment, looking… back? Sam realized that there was more to Nihlus than she knew, and something about this touched him.

"In that," he continued after coming back to the conversation, "you have done yourself proud. You looked upon her with fairness and equality, and I doubt you just gave it out. She earned it in your eyes, and I imagine that in that moment you accepted her, Velyanis was probably thanking every Spirit in the Book of Valluvius at her success. I… know that feeling, Sam. You gave her what she wanted… no, she earned it, but you gave her the opportunity to prove herself, and…" Again, the Turian when quiet, and Sam took a step forward and placed her hand on the Turian's forearm, looking at him with concern. "Something similar happened to myself when I was young, growing up in the Attican Traverse outside of the Hierarchy, having been born to a mining outpost owned by a manufacturing corporation. Someone gave me that chance, so I know that feeling. I do commend you upon your lack of nepotism, and I wonder if Velyanis had even thought it might be a possibility. Still…" Nihlus gave off a sigh. "The favor. I know this upsets you greatly, but I ask is that… do not blame the Hierarchy directly for the actions of an individual or set of individuals. I know that some look at the way we do things and are upset or discomforted by it, especially humans. We are not a perfect people, and I ask that you judge an individual by the individual, and not the whole of the species because of a few."

"I have a feeling you mean more than just what happen to Nysiana." Collins replied quietly, thinking of the Wards.

"Yes, I do." The Turian replied, nodding. "I imagine that the coming weeks and months will be difficult for both sides, and I imagine that the strain between our species will get worse before it gets better. Please do not judge my species on the actions of a few, and do not judge an individual based upon their species or government. My… mentor never understood that. Saren absolutely loathes humanity, to the point that he made decisions that I did not agree with on a fundamental level. He was the one who gave me that chance to prove myself, but… but he and I parted ways due to his attitude towards your species because I did not agree with him and he wouldn't change his ways. I have no use for a being that won't extend some benefit of the doubt, and I know it can be difficult, like it can be between Turians and humans, or Batarians and humans. What you did for Legio Velyanis? It was a incredible act of civility on your behalf, and why I do not doubt she has thanked you profusely, I would like to extend the same courtesy because such actions should be held in high regard." To that, Nihlus put his talons to his heart and tipped his fringe towards her, saluting her. "I will… report this day to the Imperator of the Office of Special Tactics, both of the actions that occurred to Nysiana, as well as your own. You have proven to me once more that you have shown the values of a SPECTRE Operative, not merely just an Associate Member. I know the intent is for you to use your ship hunting abilities for our purposes, but I believe that you can be a great deal more. I would like to have you are our side as a sister, I think you could do your species and the galaxy proud."

"Well, as much comfort as that is, we've got other things on our plate right now, Nihlus." Sam looked over to see Doctor Shayana B'mora standing at the doorway, respecting their privacy. "Yes, Hospitallar?"

"I have come to inform you that I have completed what I could for the time being for the patient." The Asari Physician replied, standing there in a respectful pose; her arms and hands held behind her, dressed in a medical jumpsuit that didn't look to be a part of any of the hospitals of the Citadel. "I wish to discuss treatment and… possible options for her health." The Asari looked at the both of them for a moment, and then to Sam directly. "Will you be able to guarantee her safety for the time being? She will be very vulnerable for at least the next week while her bones heal and the MediGel heals what they did to her back."

"I will." The Marshal replied, and to her surprise, Nihlus nodded as well, obviously willing to be involved. "I will incur whatever costs are required for her therapy, medications, and procedures."

"That will not be necessary… sister." The Asari gave a ghost of a smile, reminding Collins that, like herself, this was a SPECTRE. "I will come back to see to her wounds as necessary, but we will need to look at options for more permanent solutions. Her legs will heal with little complications in the future, and I have the necessary medications that will allow her injured plates to heal. Unfortunately, she will have malformed plates for the rest of her life without surgical intervention, though we have time to assess if that is what she desires. The main concern I have is her back. They tore off her back plate completely, and there is nothing I can do about that with the equipment I have. She will require a graft, or a corrective plate."

"Explain." Sam asked, looking to Nihlus.

"A graft plate is one taken from a fallen Turian, donated for the cause of the living." The Turian replied, knowing of what Doctor B'mora spoke of. "It comes with complications, of course. There is the risk of secondary infections, failure to adhere, rejection odds, and she will be on anti-rejection medications for the rest of her life, interfering with her immune system. The drug are, as I understand it, quite unpleasant to take. It will be difficult to acquire one as well, as they will only come from Hierarchy Medical Facilities, with a long wait list of those who have damaged their plates from service or accident, and the first thing they will do is ask." Nihlus' mandibles twitched at that. "Likely, her Commanding Officer has sent some form of report indicating that she was peeled, which will reduce that possibility to zero. Our other option for acquiring a graft will be outside of Council Space; essentially, a Black Market Organ Dealer. That… is not a preferred option."

"No." Sam shivered at the thought, remembering hearing tales about Earth's own black market organ syndicates in the mid-21st century, nauseating tales of people waking up in ice-filled bathtubs with organs and limbs missing, paid for by the rich and wealthy who wished to live longer. "Corrective plate?"

"A synthetic plate." The Blackwatch Commando supplied, his tone subdued. "That is not so uncommon for those who wish not to wait, and one can be found with little difficulty. They can also be acquired outside of the Hierarchy, so we need not worry about any repercussions about that. But it comes with its own risks as well. A corrective plate is not a permanent solution, more like a… prosthetic, I believe the term is." To that, the Hospitallar nodded. "It can be removed, and will have to be strapped onto her daily. There are care and maintenance procedures, and it will need to be fitted, as a 'one size fits all' is not a solution. She will not be able to sleep with it on, and her back will still forever be vulnerable. She will need help from someone she trusts to care for her back as well; antibiotics, checking for injuries. We evolved with an exoskeleton, and once a part of it is removed, what is underneath is thin flesh protecting the tissues and organs underneath. She will be susceptible to injuries, and all one would need to do is to remove the corrective plate to truly harm her. One could easily push an object through her back now to pierce an organ and cause her significant distress and injury. She… is crippled, essentially."

"No, I refuse to see it that way." Collins replied, her voice hard at first before she calmed herself, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment to get a better grip upon her emotions. She remembered well the sight of Nysiana's back, the tissues weeping blood, the sight of her exposed spine through thin semitransparent skin, the musculature of her back. It was like an anatomical representation still of the human body with the flesh removed for medical training, except on a living being. The sight had disturbed her greatly. "She is not a cripple, Nihlus." Sam spoke again, this time more in control. "Being a cripple is a choice, not an infliction. One can work past their flaws and strive forward. I…" Collins realized that Nihlus didn't know of her condition, she had never told him how it was that she could access Relay Data and read it while no one else could. The Office of Special Tactics thought it a skill; in truth, it was a gift that came with a price. "I remember hearing that word in my orphanage, being told by caretakers that we were mental defects and cripples, heard them laughing in the hallways as they went on and on about their petty problems while we suffered and were ignored no one checking on us silent tears in the pillow no one there to comfort us in the night the silent screams of loneliness neglecting us put us in our rooms no lights no noises no one there no one at all screaming silence beating me told me to be a good girl,"

"Sam!"

Collins looked to see Petty Officer Jane Shepard standing in front of her, holding her by her shoulders, her green eyes alarmed. The redhead's arms slipped around her, holding her close as Jane whispered to her, her voice soothing, comforting, fighting the memories that threatened her. No, stay here, with her. Sam closed her eyes and buried her face in the warmth of Shepard's shoulder, breathing in her scent, smelling the scent of her shampoo and conditioner, the fresh mint of Irish Spring. It… was comforting.

"Sorry, I…" Sam removed her face from the comfort of Jane's shoulder, taking a long breath and holding it as long as she could, seconds passing by as the steady craving for fresh oxygen built up within her, began to scratch away at her with needy claws and burning howls. She ignored it, focusing on the face in front of her, those caring green eyes that matched with hers, never looking away, and never giving in. Stay with me, those eyes told her. "Thank you." Sam whispered.

"Of course." The Petty Officer smiled, looking at her sweetly. There were kilograms worth of pain behind those caring green eyes and Sam realized God, I had slipped and she had spoken a little about her time in the orphanage, reliving some of those confusing days when she was a child, the memories she didn't dare relive. "Hey, don't go back there. This is where you belong."

"You are right." Sam nodded, returning the smile. "How is she?"

"Nysiana? She's… awake." The redhead frowned. "She's very depressed, I think. Stacy's talking to her, though, of all people. It's really touched her, and I never thought I'd see the day she'd warm up to a Turian, but…" Yes, that had surprised Sam as well, seeing Master Chief Valentino not just helping Velyanis physically, but emotionally as well. She wondered if their conversation from last night had anything to do with it, but more than likely it had been a growing number of situations and occurrences that made her rethink the situation. The sight of Nysiana beaten so, in so much pain, and yet had the strength to make it here? It was humbling to see. "Sam? She needs help. Lots of it."

"We will give it to her then." Collins replied immediately, no doubt in her mind or in her voice. Nysiana was one of them the moment Sam shook her hand and hired her, and she wouldn't give up on one of hers. "I have another spare bedroom that she will use for the time being, and we can help her and see to her needs while she is here. We'll… need to know what Turians normally eat on a daily basis." She looked to Nihlus, whose mandibles twitched quickly in an amused grin. "I don't think there are any dextro-chilarity related grocery stores in the Human Wards. And we're not exactly allowed in the others."

"I will pick up the necessary supplies, no worries." The Blackwatch Commando nodded, needing no further explanation. "I will gather some for myself, as there may be need for me to visit as well. At the very least, I think she will need the moral support of one of her own kind to show her that some of us can look past such things."

"Thank you, Nihlus. I don't doubt she will be grateful for the support of those who care." Sam nodded, counting her blessings that she had a friend like Nihlus Kryik. "Will we need to come up with a reason why the two of you are here? A human Marshal somehow knowing a Blackwatch Commando is rather suspicious, and I have no idea what your cover is." Sam looked to the Hospitallar, not knowing if B'mora was a public SPECTRE or a clandestine one. She knew that Kryik's cover was that he was a Blackwatch Commando under a fictitious unit that consisted of a few others like himself, Turian SpecOps Warriors who were clandestine Agents of the Council. Elias Korvan of the Final Line was of the same 'unit'.

"I will worry about that, and its repercussions." Kryik responded, nodding his head. "If she asks, refer her to me, and I will tell her what she needs to know. As for the Hospitallar, Velyanis can be told that she is a Physician seeing to her needs regardless of how her injuries came to pass. That will be easily believed, and in line with what Shayana does." Jane frowned for a moment, still in the room, discovering yet another SPECTRE. There was already a Citadel-oriented Nondisclosure Agreement towards 'certain' classified information that she was allowed to know, mostly due to the fact that she, along with Master Chief Valentino and Senior Chief Mason, knew that Nihlus Kryik was an Agent of the Council. The others that had come to Therum to fight for the people of Nova Yekaterinburg hadn't identified themselves, and most had kept their helmets on during the duration of the battle and afterwards to safeguard their identities. Nihlus Kryik, having been injured by a Batarian State Arms Hishock Harpoon Gun, had to remove his helmet and armor for first aid purposes on the onset of his injuries before he could be brought to the Marshal's Office's Pit to be treated in the improvised Medical Clinic that had been created in the jail cells.

The three Navy MP's knew his face and his name, Stacy evidently knowing of him from years before. As Sam understood it, sometimes having a core group of people know of the SPECTRE's true occupation was necessary to garner help and allies when necessary. That may one day be her, selecting others to help her in her endeavors as an Agent of the Council, looking through people to find those who were willing to serve a greater purpose. Would she select Stacy and Royce, those two paragons of Military strength and professionalism? Would she pick Jane with her rough-and-tough attitude? Would she only select humans? Would… would she find another to add to the ranks of the Office of Special Tactics? It was something she hadn't really considered before, though… she did have something similar; her Marshal's Office. She could easily look for others in the name of the Alliance Federal Marshal Services, creating a 'group' of specialists to have on-hand for such things, like a SWAT Team at the ready, or C-SEC's Rapid Response Unit. That had her thinking of her future and the future of the Citadel Marshal's Office. It would take time, but perhaps she could look into it.

Until then, she had an Office to start, and friends by her side. It was enough, for now.

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Legio Nysiana Velyanis woke up feeling groggy, lying on her chest plate as her eyes felt heavy as she opened her lids, seeing the world come in fuzzy and unrecognizable for a moment, her eyes trying to adjust. A brief swell of panic came to her as certain memories washed over her; being hung upside down, the absolute agony in her legs, the punishing blows that came again and again, the intense burning pain in her back as…

…Oh Spirits, they had peeled off her backplate.

Velyanis whimpered at the thought, and she found that she was suddenly looking at a Human, a female one with a flexible fringe colored like wheat. The Turian looked at the soft faceplates and horizontal mandibles that Humans had, seeing them puckered strangely, as if she had eaten something sour. A gentle hand went onto the back of her unbroken one, holding it tenderly.

"Nessie? You're safe, okay?"

"I… okay." She remembered where she was, and how she got there. The flight in the X3M Contragravity Citadel Public Transportation Aircar had been agonizing, her back burning with pain as her plates on her face and her chest cried in agony, splintered and shattered as they were. She had looks up the only being she knew on the Citadel that wasn't a Turian, finding Vigilus Samantha Collins listed, as well as her nest. She had practically crawled through the Human Wards checkpoint, C-SEC Officers laughing at her as they made her crawl through the multiscanner, taunting her and degrading her in front of Humans, calling her barefaced and a coward. One had hit her with a sick-stick, and she had puked on the floor in front of her before one of the Turian Officers had kicked one of her crawling arms away to make her land in the puddle of her own gizzard-juice, laughing as he did so.

It had taken her forever to reach the WardTram, alternating between walking and crawling on her crippled legs, her broken spurs grinding with each step as she took the conveyance to the 1000 Block, then another that would take her from Lower Wards to Mid-Wards, and finally a third that took her to the center of the 1050 Block (Mid-Wards), where she walked another hundred meters or so to Shangri-La Tower. Humans had been staring at her as she moved, whimpering in pain as she did so, and surprisingly doors were held for her when she entered the Tram, and one human male offered her his seat in front of his kin, Nysiana practically collapsing as she went from the 0800 Block to the 1000 Block two kilometers away, the respite giving her relief. She had logged in as a guest at the lobby of the Tower, gaining temporary access to the Twenty-Ninth Floor, and had practically stumbled her way to the apartment she had located using a public terminal and AVINA, her clearance for the Hierarchy Navy yet to be revoked.

She had pleaded to every Spirit in the Book of Valluvius that someone would be home, that someone would help her.

Thank the Spirits she had been right.

"Val?" Nysiana asked weakly, remembering the Human now, the one that had held her hand and sang to her when the pain threatened to break her, the one that held her when her armor had come off and… Peace! She had begged to die, the agony unbearable. She had shamed herself terribly in front of these strangers, these Human strangers, and yet they said not a word of it. No ridicule came from their strange, soft mandibles, and no insults were given. "H-how bad?"

"The truth?" The female with the wheat-colored flexible fringe asked, her strange round brown eyes looking at her with all seriousness. Velyanis merely nodded her head. "Two broken spurs, your left hand was broken, about seventeen cracked plates, four were splintered, and two were shattered. Several more were beaten into deformity and…" The Human female's face went harsh, "your back."

"I know." Nysiana had to shut her eyes to keep the tears from leaking out, to keep her shame in. "S-S-Spirits, t-they-y…"

"Shhh, it's okay now." The female said soothingly, trying to comfort her. That… wasn't normal. Why wasn't this Centurion berating her for her weakness? "You're one of us now, and we look out and take care of our own, Nessie."

"Hey, you're awake!" Another female stepped in, this one with fur fringe the color of scarlet red. She seemed younger of the two females, but it was hard to tell with Humans unless their fringes went gray with age. It took her a moment to remember the female from yesterday, visiting her when she was at the Vigilus' Office. Jan? Jane! That was her name. "Is there anything I can get you? Water? Um… I don't think we have anything else dextro-friendly." Jane's face winced at the admittance.

"Water is fine." What she really could go for was a bottle of Palavenian Silver, but Nysiana doubted she'd get that if she were on medications. The younger Centurion with the scarlet flexible fringe moved off to the Galley to get her some water as the older one looked at her, checking on her. It was… different, these Humans were different. Nysiana knew they were different, of course, but… she hadn't ever really been around them before. What she knew of them had come from scuttlebutt on the vessels she served, the rumors and derogatory terms about monkeys in general. She certainly didn't see them hooting or eating bugs off one another, and she figured that was something mean and untrue. She… would have to ask, but she was embarrassed to. She didn't want to offend them. Jane came back with a small clear container with water inside, along with a thin tube sticking out of it. "What is this?" Velyanis asked, eyeing the tube, which looked to be made of thin PlastiGel, hollow on the inside.

"It's a straw!" The younger Centurion replied. "I… ah… didn't know if your mandibles could use a Human-oriented glass, so… I thought this would work just in case."

"The glass is close enough." The container was clear CeramiGel, then, and round instead of ovaliod like Turian-styled drinking receptacles were, or fluted ones with smaller necks. She grunted a little as she tried to drink while lying down, but the movement made her back flare up in pain. She grimaced as she was forced to use the straw like some hatchling with their first drinking receptacle.

"You're healing, it's okay." Val said softly, taking a cool damp cloth and placing it on the back of her neck to help keep her temperature down. Somehow, the Centurion knew what she was thinking. "You want to be tough? Heal up properly first so you can go back to doing it the right way. Masochistic bullshit only makes it longer and worse in the long run. Trust me on this one, Legio."

"I'm… not a Legio anymore." Velyanis said softly, pulling the straw from her mandibles as she felt the bitter tang of that thought in the back of her throat. Almost five years serving the Hierarchy faithfully, despite the s'kak jobs and details they gave her, the worse positions and the worse hours, the merciless teasing and insults. She had been so determined to prove them all wrong by showing them that she wasn't a coward, that she could take whatever their dished and… it didn't matter now. Her shame was complete.

"You're a Deputy now, same as us." Jane replied, nodding her head as she sat down in a Human-oriented chair, looking into her gold-green eyes with her own pure green ones. "Hierarchy doesn't want you? Fuck 'em." The Human shrugged her shoulders, as if it was the most natural thing to say! "We do."

"You do?" Nysiana Velyanis couldn't believe she was hearing this. These Humans… were mad! She was a Turian! She was crippled! And they wanted her?

"Yes, we do."

The female turned her head towards who had spoken, and saw the Vigilus standing there, only a meter or two away. She was dressed in more Human-oriented clothing, not her Duty Uniform; a white short doublet with a pair of blue fabric leggings. Vigilus Collins approached her as she knelt by the table that she laid up, looking at her with blue eyes that stared at her intently. The eyes softened at a moment, the scrutiny over for whatever reason.

"There is an Asari Hospitallar here that has volunteered to look over your treatment and help you get fully healed. You will follow her orders to the letter so you can get back on your feet, but no sooner than when she thinks is appropriate. Understood?" The Vigilus commanded, and Nysiana gulped a little bit, nodding her head. "Most of your wounds and your bones will heal well, but we will need to talk about possible surgeries and corrections. Are you up for that?"

"Yes, Vigilus." Velyanis replied, feeling… she didn't know how she felt. This wasn't like the Hierarchy at all. If a Sailor had been as injured as she in conflict, she would have been shipped to some planet-based Clinic under the care of Barber-Surgeons while being mustered out of the Hierarchy. "I… don't have any Credits to pay for it."

"I will be covering the expenses." Collins informed her, surprising the Sailor. The Hierarchy, of course, paid for medical expenses, having a social medical program to see to the needs of its citizens. But to have someone charge for her medical had been a scary thought; Nysiana had heard how expensive it could be. But that someone was willing to cover the costs?

"I will find a way to make it up to you, Vigilus. This I swear." The former Legio promised.

"Then get better, by following the Doctor's orders. I don't want to see you up and about one minute earlier than her expressed approval… Deputy Velyanis." The blue eyes were boring into her own again. "Now we need to get some personal input from you concerning some of your more permanent injuries. I know some of your damaged plates will heal in fullness with treatment and time, but some of them have been rather pulverized, I fear. As I understand it, that can be corrected with surgery."

"It doesn't matter." Nysiana replied, closing her eyes, not wanting to see that face that was trying so hard for her. "I am already barefaced. A few deformed plates are of no concern."

"That term will not be used again."

The female Turian opened her eyes to see the Vigilus', her eyes hard.

"That," the Human stated, "is a term made up by cowards." The venom in her voice was harsh. "I do not understand why it means that one is untrustworthy, but I don't care. I judge individuals by their actions and their worth, not by the words of others and superstitions. Colonial markings or no, you are a sapient being that is worthy of respect and honor regardless. Never live based upon those who would judge you by a word. I know that feeling well, and I will not abide by it, not for myself or for anyone else. I look at you and I do not see a coward, Nysiana. I saw a female who had the courage and audacity to walk into my office to follow her dream, no matter how unlikely. You may be the first ever to try. We have a word for that; pathfinder, one willing to walk where no one else has. You could have given up and given in at any point of time before you stepped through my door. You could have left my office and apologized. You fought for it, even when I highlighted what you might face, you fought for it. Why?"

"I… wanted more for myself." Velyanis replied softly, looking at the Vigilus. "I was never going to leave the Military, stuck at a Tier-Three Citizen, working the nastiest duties, forced to work the longest hours. I… wanted to be able to hold my head high and say that I earned something for myself."

"Doesn't sound like the work of a coward to me. Or one who would hide their face." The Vigilus replied as she slipped her flesh, stubby five blunted talons into her own, holding her uninjured hand. "I have seen bravery in many forms, Nysiana, in many walks of life. It is easy to be courageous amongst those with courage, when their eyes are on you and they may see your fear. But to be courageous when there is no one else, to stand alone when no one is watching and continue to be brave and true? Few ever get that chance, and fewer succeed. Are you going to let those cowards win? Or do you want to hold your head high?"

"I will not live in shame anymore." Nysiana replied, her flanged voice strong and true, looking at the Vigilus with conviction. "I… still want to be in your Civil Protective Services, if you'll have me."

"I will." The Human replied, her horizontal mandibles pulling up in a smile. "I'll need you healthy, so you get that way. We'll work up a training doctrine and equipment for you, since we've only got Human-oriented equipment, and you will be the only one without any law enforcement experience on your side. So for the first few months, I will stick you with a partner, someone who will watch your back and teach you how to do your job, Deputy. So let me ask again; your plates that have suffered being pulverized and malformed, would you like to look into surgical options?"

"I… do not." Velyanis replied after a long moment, thinking it over. "They may see me bleed, they may see me cry. They will not see me disguise what they did to me. I… am a survivor; let others see my scars and recognize that I will never break."

"You don't get much more Turian than that." Centurion Val said with an audible snort through her pointed, narrow snout, but there was a knowing smile upon her mandibles. "The concept isn't too different from Human skin graft so… if you do change your mind in the future, you can do so when you're not so full of piss and vinegar."

"Um…"

"She means stubborn and overly enthusiastic." Jane said, chuckling as Velyanis tried not to imagine being filled with… eww. She wasn't even sure what ven-ah-gur was! The scarlet-fringed Human came to the rescue on that one. Humans had the oddest idioms! "Don't worry, she tells me that about once a week."

"Humans are weird." Nysiana replied, her eyes immediately going wide at the slip as her whole body tensed up at the insult she had inadvertently said. Much to her surprise, all there females in front of her found it amusing; Val snorted but smiled, Jane chuckled, and Collins merely shook her head, trying not to laugh out loud. This was a side of Humanity she had never seen or heard of before, the side that was behind closed doors, the side that was amongst friends, Nysiana realized. At first, she thought that there were merely sharing it with her, to make her comfortable. But no, that wasn't it, was it? They weren't sharing it with her.

They had included her.

"Regardless," the Vigilus smiled, but continued on, "we will honor and respect your wishes. For your back?" The brown soft-fringed female winced. "That will need to be addressed. I will not let you risk yourself so easily, and I will not have you expose yourself to injury in such an easy manner. The Hospitallar has told me of a couple of options that we can look into, but as I understand it, we may have to look into the fact that a corrective plate will be the only option available for you." That… was a rather diplomatic way of looking at it, Velyanis thought. She understood that the Vigilus wasn't trying to imply that she was vulnerable or weak; she was expressing her interest to help her heal and continue to work towards what she most wanted.

"Now I don't know a lot about the subject, but I know someone who does and is willing to look into it for your benefit if you'll let him. He is a friend of mine, and he has expressed his interest in seeing to your needs for the time being. When you came here and we did not know what to do, it was he that I called, and it was he that got you a Physician to tend to you. I have trusted him with my life and the lives of my men in the past, and he has never let me down." Nysiana realized that the Vigilus was speaking about a friend that wasn't a Human, most likely a Turian. That would make sense, considering the circumstances, though the female doubted there were many Turian-Human friends out there. But the build-up seemed odd. Was the Vigilus afraid she would whimper at the sight of another Turian? Perhaps the Human was trying to put her at ease during her weakened state. That would make sense. "I would like for you to meet him, since you will probably be seeing a good deal of him over the next few days."

"That is fine." Velyanis replied, nodding her head. The three Human females made some space as a male Turian came into view, armored in… Spirits!

It was a Blackwatch Commando!

"S-s-sir!" Nysiana Velyanis panicked at the sight of one of the most elite soldiers the Hierarchy produced, the infamous Blackwatch Unit utilized against any and all who would dare harm the Hierarchy and its citizens by means of secrecy, espionage, sabotage, or terrorism. If the Hierarchy produced some of the finest soldiers in the galaxy (and they did), then the Blackwatch was the epitome of combat elites; wrath and vengeance made flesh and armor. "S-sir, I…"

"Relax, young one." The male replied softly as he sat down in one of the Human-oriented seats, trying to get comfortable on a piece of furniture not meant for Turian postures. "There is no need to enact ceremony with me. I am here as a friend, called here by a friend. I wish to help you while you recuperate."

"But… I…" Nysiana knew the tales, and knew what she was now. No matter what the Vigilus might think or say (and it touched her that the Human wouldn't stand for such things as being called barefaced), this was a male Turian in full view of her shame, who undoubtedly knew who she was and what she had suffered.

"Nysiana, you are one of the bravest sapients I've ever met. And I mean that from the bottom of my spirit." The Commando said, a slow smile creeping on his mandibles. "You remind me of someone else I know, too proud to not do the right thing, no matter the cost. A rookie cop on a toxic world, woefully unprepared, and yet never backing down no matter the odds. What was it that you said back on Revan, Sam? About the law standing tall?"

"'For where the law stands tall, no good man shall perish, but live forever on in justice and equity. And where evil men exists, it is the duty of those sworn to protect the innocent to ensure they meet their righteous end'." The Vigilus replied, surprising Velyanis. That was… actually pretty good. Collins had worked alongside this Blackwatch Commando? Humans were tougher than she knew! So that was how they knew each other? She would have to ask later, if they were willing to talk about it. Wait… Revan?

"Was that… the place they were breeding slave hatchlings?" Nysiana asked, tightening her mandibles up as she realized she probably shouldn't have asked.

"Yes, yes it was." The Vigilus responded, her voice soft, her eyes haunted as a hand went absently to her belly. "A way-in-over-her-head rookie cop, but with some good friends at her side." The female looked to the male Turian and smiled.

"I was there." Velyanis whispered, remembering the House of Horrors. "They ordered me to help collect the bodies of the hatchlings in that one room. It was… it made me sick to see that, to see so many little bodies so carelessly tossed, like trash. I must have wept and apologized to every one that I carried to the Mortuary Team in the next room. Such a despicable act, I remember how glad I was that it was stopped, that the perpetrator was captured instead of just killed so he could be forced to give up the rest of his barefaced organization." She didn't hide the disgust or venom in her flanged voice. "I… heard there was a Human involved. I did not know that was you, Vigilus."

"She was the key instrument to it." The Blackwatch Commando replied, nodding his fringed head. "She was there every step of the way, right by my side. Never balked, never gave in. Admitted that the task was more than she had been trained for, and yet still used her skills as an investigator as well as a Deputy to make sure that the House of Horrors was dismantled. The law stood tall that day, did it not, Sam?"

"Indeed it did, Nihlus." The Human smiled, nodding her head. "Could have gone without getting shot in the gut, though." Velyanis winced at that. Gut shots hurt. "So Nihlus here wants to discuss options for your back, as well as getting you supplies for the next week or so. I'm putting you up until you're on your feet at the very least, and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer." Velyanis was about to object, but lost before she could say anything. "First off, you are healing, and… vulnerable. You'll be safe here, which will be one less worry for me. Second, I doubt you have any other accommodations considering what your previous Commanding Officer did to you." Yes, that was certainly true. "Lastly, what kind of person would I be to put out a person in need?"

"I… thank you, Vigilus."

"It's Sam."

"Nessie." Velyanis said with a smile, looking over to the older Centurion, Val giving her a nod. "I think I rather like that name."

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Marshal Sam Collins sat in her office, looking through a few data packets sent to her from various organizations throughout Earth Alliance Space, mostly updates and need-to-knows that all managerial-level persons such as herself needed to keep eyes on. It was Saturday, and she had headed into the Marshal's Office for just a few hours of work in case something strange decided to happen on a weekend (which happened too often). Master Chief Stacy Valentino had as well, mostly to play with guns. She was a Navy Master-at-Arms, having gone through multiple classes and training modules to keep herself at expert levels of weapons technology permitted throughout Council Space, generally knowledgeable about any military-oriented weapons, law enforcement weapons permissible, and civilian model capabilities. Stacy was a gun nut in a firearm-oriented position; a match made in Heaven. She was already calling the Armory her 'Office', and Sam wasn't about to dissuade her. The Texan was passionate about her job, and letting her do anything less was a crime.

"Got something for you here." Val walked in through Sam's already opened door, the quiet office soon to be occupied when Monday rolled around. The Master Chief was carrying a rifle that had Sam look at it. She didn't immediately recognize it. "This baby here?" Val was carrying it veteran-styled, hugged against her chest with the weapon pointed almost vertically downward, cradled to the right side of her chest. "This is a Armax Arsenal Crossfire Assault Rifle, Mk. VII. Turian-made, but with parts and pieces meant for us five-fingered folk. Take a look."

The blonde woman stood close enough to hand the weapon over as Sam looked up and down its body, knowing that Armax Arsenal weapons were high-quality, expensive, and generally only sold to those who held high-class weapons licenses for it. Stacy had modified the weapon heavily, more than just the pistol grip that housed the trigger assembly and ammo block well for 'five-fingered folk'. There was an attachment to the front of the weapon, another pistol grip that would recess into the undercarriage that was also a tactical light that had three lenses on it; light, infrared, and laser. The magazine well had been doubled as well, widened and lengthened for the larger one point five kilogram blocks, as well as a beveled port for easier reloading. A Trijicon SACOG sight was mounted on the top receiver, the Smart Attenuated Combat Optical Group sight meant to not only provide a magnification viewer that went from one power to fifteen power, measuring the size of the target with known distances and zooming automatically, but would adjust the reticle with a variety of conditions; atmosphere, pressure, wind, temperature, and particlization. A recoil buffer and stabilizer had been grafted to the weapon's collapsible buttstock, as well as a magnetized buttplate to connect the weapon to the users' shoulder in case one-handed firing was necessary.

Normally, the Crossfire fired a seven point five gram military-authorized penetration slug instead of a breakable round, but had been modified with a ten-gram shaver. The barrel was about ten centimeters longer than normal, and when Sam pulled back the heat dispenser cover, she saw that the heatsink was an after-market install; it wasn't made of copper, but of hardened ceramiglas, offering close to twenty percent more heat diffusion. All in all, it was a very fine weapon. Perhaps a bit excessive for the normal run-of-the-lot cop, but in a SWAT members' hand?

"Wish we had a few of these on Therum." Sam mentioned, her voice melancholy as she put the rifle to her right shoulder and looked down the sight, seeing the simple red dot reticle that would auto-adjust with distance and conditions. "No Smart Targeting Software?" Usually such things were displayed on the inside of a sight holographically, meant to assist aim and adjust micro-degrees to ensure accuracy. Collins saw none of those upon the SACOG.

"Those things are wonky at best, and hackable, to boot." Stacy replied, waving off the idea of STS as if it were of no import. "Oh, it's good for certain things, like 'traditional' battles where you're on one side, and they are on the other. But in a fluid environment and ever-changing battle lines? No, not practical." Sam sat back, interested. She wasn't a gun nut, though she knew some things about common weapons. "STS will have IFF redundancy programs to keep fratricide down, but they're horrible for hostage situations or when things get close and nasty. Generally, you can't fire anywhere within a meter of your own guys, the STS recognizing the IFF set to 'friendly' and preventing you from, say, shooting the bogie about to stab him to death, or hitting a terrorist piece of shit with a hostage when it recognizes an unarmed combatant. Plus, the VI's on those things are generally laughably easy to hack and interfere with. Want a weapon that won't work when you need it most?"

"No, most definitely not." Sam replied, feeling the weapon in her hands. "Yours?"

"Royce's', actually. I got me a customized Colt Arms M-99 Sabre Engagement Rifle that's pretty much tricked out like that one there," she nodded to the Crossfire, "save that I didn't need to make mine human-compatible. You don't want to know how much each of those costs."

"I'm sure I don't." Sam winced as she handed the Crossfire back. "Why have these but carry Nexus Gladius' Battle Rifles?" That was what the MP's had on Therum, the Nexus Engagement Reliable Firearms' standard issued weapon, the basic model found in the hands of mercs, private security that allowed rifles, and even law enforcement agencies.

"Royce and I… have been around the block a few times." Val replied, wincing slightly as she sat on top of Sam's desk top, on the opposite side as so not to crowd her in. "We were both up for SpecOps a few years back, and… I told you about that mission with Nihlus. Had that Sabre with me, and that weapon saved my life more than once by being more powerful than what most standard armor can handle. Got Royce that Crossfire in case he was ever in some similar situation. They were both locked up and sittin' pretty in our personal storage locker in Arcturus. Whoops." Collins just shook her head. Yes, they were expensive rifles with some high-quality modifications. "That Modulus of yours will be gettin' tweaked, too." The Nexus ECS-10 Modulus Assault Rifle had been 'acquired' from the hands of a dead human slaver in Revan when Sam realized that her Nexus 2169 Lawbringer just wasn't going to cut it completely. Nexus Engagement Reliable Firearms made good weapons, but only 'good'. Armax Arsenal was generally the go-to weapons company of Turian gun nuts, and Colt Arms had been making fine weapons for centuries for humanity. "But the best weapon in this Office? That one."

Sam looked down at her 696, holstered on her left hip.

"Know much of it?" Stacy smiled, her head leaning to one side as Sam professed that she didn't; she only knew of it from Office scuttlebutt back on Therum, when it hung off the hip of Frontier Marshal Bartholomew Weathers, her predecessor. "It's a mass driver; old mass accelerator technology from back before we were zipping through Mass Relays with Eezo, but updated with current technology at the time. Back during the Resource Wars in the early-2120's, Smith and Wesson went and made a weapon that would crack through human armor, especially engine blocks in APC's. That was the Model 696, and it was a real nail driver, able to spit out a round at over thirty-seven hundred Joules when most rifles at the time were pegging less than two thousand.

"Of course," Stacy shrugged, "the FCW happened, and the Council imposed their Treaty of Farixen, limiting what weapons we could make. Mass Accelerators were banned, too slow to activate Kinetic Shields, and the few that did survive were because they were less-than substantial and had to be converted to take standard slugs. That," Val pointed to the Model 696, "may be one of a few hundred left when human ingenuity ruled weapons and armor. That hogleg of yours hits harder than most high-end rifles do, and some of the weaker sniper rifles. Notice it doesn't collapse into carrying configuration?" Sam nodded; the Smith and Wesson looked like a revolver of old, and didn't have any moving parts save for the activation hammer and the heat-sink cylinder.

"That weapon's pure meat and muscle, with six separate mini-heatsinks that contain all the heat from one shot, needing to be cooled before firing again. Technically? That's illegal." The MP's brown eyes danced with mirth. "How Weathers got it? No idea, probably was his from long ago or maybe he bought it when it first came out and the company was forced to recall them back. Can't quickdraw a collapsible weapon; takes two seconds for it to configure and the rails to power up. Yours? Fit to fire at any time, as lethal as the day she was made."

"It's more powerful than your Sabre or the Crossfire?" Collins asked, a little awed. She had been carrying it because it had come with the badge, and it looked like what a Marshal's gun should look like; a tool of authority and instrument of intimidation. While she wasn't necessarily a cowboy, it was a cowboy's gun, and she was a Marshal. It just fit like that.

"Oh yes. Sabre's closer to it than the Crossfire, and not by much for both, but yes. May I?" Stacy held out a hand, and Sam pulled the gun from her Kydex holster and handed it to Val pistol grip first. The Master-at-Arms accepted it, holding it in both hands, her fingers brushing along its ReSteel surface. "A human-made weapon meant for human hands, before alien technology forced us to change our line of thinking to be more like them. A real piece of history and innovation, this here hand cannon." Stacy smiled a sad smile, shaking her head sadly. It was obvious what her opinion was on those ideals. She had been born in a time where there were humans and nobody else, every achievement made by human minds and human hands. "Nothing I can do for this revolver; wasn't made for alien tech or mods. But honestly?

"You can't improve upon perfection." The Master Chief smiled lopsided as she handed the revolver back. "I'd kill to find another, if another does exists. I even looked it up during leave. Plenty of takers on the FFS boards on all the weapons sites in Alliance Space after the Battle of Therum, pics and stills of you and your hogleg in action have certainly gotten attention back to 'human' weapons. No givers, though. I imagine one of those would come at a dear price. Probably more than my Sabre as-is."

"And to think I brained some bouncer with it." Sam smiled as she reholstered the revolver, making Stacy laugh out loud.

"Oh, that ain't no fragile squirt gun, Marse. That'll take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. Won't jam, won't get hacked, won't be interfered with. A gun as a gun is meant to be; a tool deadly in the hand of an artist." Sam frowned as she looked at Stacy. "Oh no, I'm not taking it. Would love to, but you've earned the right to that 696, Sam. Watched you blow off that SIU Commander's hand with a quickdraw, and all I saw was blur." The Non-Com smiled. "Maybe if I were still an ODST Helljumper sent into stupidity from a Karmen Line I'd might arm wrestle you for it. Be that as it may," Stacy patted Royce's Crossfire, "I got my babies ready to vrock n' vroll."

"Of course." Sam smiled, letting the older woman have her day in the sun. "Armor?"

"Looking into it." The Master Chief nodded, getting into another one of her field of expertise. "The AimPoint Ballistic Impact-Resistant Vests are rated Level-IIa, so that will add about five hundred Joules of impact resistance. That's a standard five gram slug, and a seven gram round." Vests were meant to be worn under armor, though it could be worn under normal clothing, too. Collins knew a fair bit about the BIR Vests meant to protect the torso, much like the ballistic bodysuits that the Navy had the MP's wear on Therum. "We can coat them with some AblativGel for about an extra hundred Jays, but you'll sweat it out in a month under normal circumstances, and after every serious mission. But that extra hundred can be the difference between bruised ribs and a shot lung.

"The Patrolman's," she continued, talking about the Rosenkov Materials' Medium Patrolman Armor, standard armor for every big city police force, "are good quality. I wouldn't go fighting a war in it, but a tactical response or a bad situation will be fine. They're rated at a kiloJoule, so add the BIR Vests and some AblativGel and you've got enough stopping power for most civilian rifles. Not the hunting kind, mind you, but the popguns some survivalist thinks is a Lancer, like the old Mattocks and MA-4's from the FCW. Something ad hoc'ed or street-modded… maybe not so much. That's why we got the Kinetic Defense Fields. They're good for five kiloJays total, but I'm not too impressed with the charge recycler; that sits at a five hundred Joules per second recharge rate. I've got them set at twenty-five percent power, so that'll slow anything less than military-grade down to paint-scratching. I'll run the specs through the Armory's computer and give it a good gauge with common weapons and prior weapons busts on the Citadel to see what we might be up against, and adjust accordingly."

Sam nodded, understanding what Stacy was talking about, but letting the woman perform her job that she was obviously more-than-qualified for. The Marshal had learned a little of this in the Marshal's Academy mostly to be familiar with, but knew that for someone like Val, the intricacies were in the details, and someone such as her could make the difference between life-and-death. It was one of the reasons she wanted the Master Chief in her Marshal's Office. "I'll send over my ideas and plans for approval to you when I go through the weapons and see what's allowed and available for the standard-issued Springfield Seven-Five's and Glock 18's. Probably put a rate-of-fire limiter on those cute little machine pistols to help keep rounds on target and Deputies from getting a little too nervous during stressful moments."

"Good idea, I like it." Collins was well aware how behind she was on the power curve, so to speak. Not only was she now operating a law enforcement agency in the middle of a start-up, but also she was going to have to play some serious catch-up on a variety of levels. She still had gigaBytes of information to read through pertaining to all the systems that the Citadel used; the Public Address Systems, the hololights displays that most just assumed were for advertising, the CyberLink System, AVINA, the Citadel Public Transportation Authority, both AirCar rentals and the Trams, the EID systems that logged in their Personal Area Network Accounts, the Araike Technologies' Multiuse Scanner that C-SEC used at checkpoints throughout the Citadel (and especially the Human Wards), the Tech Alarms for BlackTech, Social Networking Interactive Software that provided a sort of 'virtual world' through the various SNS providers that literally added another entire dimension to the Citadel, and so much more.

Sam tried wrapping her hypercalculic mind around the fact that there was literally a cyberworld all around her, the Citadel a SMARTCity; a massive urban development integrating information and communication technology and ExtraNet of Items technology in a secure fashion to manage the Citadel's assets through the use of a supermassive Virtual Intelligence System, AVINA. These assets included Wards departments' information systems, schools, libraries, transportation systems, hospitals, power plants, water supply networks, waste management, law enforcement, and other community services. It used rapidly-updating urban informatics and technology to improve the efficiency of services, as well as the reduction of cost and waste resources. The system allowed AVINA to interact directly with the community, the Citadel's infrastructure and to monitor what was happening in the Citadel, how it was evolving through its sapient inhabitants, and how to enable a better quality of life. Through the use of sensors integrated with real-time monitoring systems, data was collected from citizens and devices and then processed and analyzed. The information and knowledge gathered were keys to tackling inefficiency, or so the 'official' statement said.

What Sam heard? BIG BROTHER really was watching. She wondered how many intelligence services were illegally tapping into it.

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Master Chief Stacy Valentino and Marshal Sam Collins were walking back from the Marshal's Office, having done a few hours for the weekend mostly to get into the habit of things, setting up their respective positions and using the time before things began to hit the ground running. Stacy enjoyed working with Sam, the young woman being both smart but also willing to learn. It wasn't unusual for her to work with someone much younger than herself, most Ensigns in the Systems Alliance Navy and 2nd Lieutenants in the Systems Alliance Marine Corps usually twenty-one or twenty-two when they graduated from Military Academy or another College-endorsed Reserve Officer Training Corps. True, Sam was younger at that, only nineteen, but the young woman had showed herself to be driven towards her goal, picking her path and accomplishing it upon her own merit. That spoke a great deal about her as a person, and Stacy had to admit that Collins was far smarter than she was at the same age, regardless that the younger woman was a savant or not.

Val had been a headstrong young woman more interested in fighting and drinking at the time, more than likely to find herself tumbling into some man's bed during the weekends and interested in blowing shit up. Thankfully, a Chief Petty Officer by the name of Hans Bromm had figuratively smacked her upside the head more than a few times to get her act straight, turning her into some trashy Sailor with no real plans for her future and into someone who could look themselves in the mirror and have some personal pride in themselves.

She had started studying for her Tests to get up in rank, using the ENavyU courses to take correspondence lessons that put her ahead of her contemporaries, and began taking shit more seriously. Val was looked upon more than others were because of her Navy Cross that she earned in the disaster of New Beijing during Operation: Repensium, and she cleaned up her act and got her shit together so that there was something worth looking at. She gotten her ranks, taken extra training modules to become tougher and better, and even gone to UArc online to earn her Bachelor's in Psychology.

On top of that, she was qualified at Light Jump, ODST, a certified Armorer, and expert in searching both people and locations, had taken extensive courses in interrogations (both in lock-up and on the field), and was sometimes lent to the Office of Naval Intelligence for a little extra muscle whenever wetwork was needed for one of their Agents. She met Royce on one of those missions when she was just a Petty-2 and he a Petty-3, the Australian the typical 'mule'; there for heavy lifting. They ran into each other on-again/off-again between missions, posts, leaves, and deployments, and after a year of messages and such, Royce finally got the nerve to actually ask her out on a real date. Stacy hadn't seriously dated anyone before, and the Aussie was a gentleman despite the macho bravado. Even after knowing each other for ten plus years, the Texan couldn't imagine herself being with anyone else.

Stacy and Sam were heading towards the 1100 Block (Mid Wards) to the 1000 Block (Mid Wards), only being a kilometer or so from the Marshal's Office to Shangri-La Tower where Collins' apartment was, a nice convenience. They were on the Main Boulevard of the Mid Wards, where the strip was lined with businesses, shops, cafes, and entertainment venues like a long shopping center, the Boulevard getting the most amount of foot traffic due to the WardTrams that ran back and forth, as well as the main accesses deeper into the Ward Blocks themselves. Digital Holographic Advertisements arched over the Boulevard in the hopes to capture the attention of potential customers as digital flyers were placard upon walls for informational purposes as well as adverts. Light-board monitors flashed megasigns to inform travelers of some of the bigger companies that sold their services and products, department stores and franchises being the glitzier ones while smaller ones generally hovered above doors or raced along the pathways to catch attention of passersby.

And around them was the masses of humanity itself, everything from well-dressed businesspersons walking the Boulevard or taking advantage of the Auto-Walks to punk-looking 'gangers with odd haircuts and dyed colors, dressed in whatever was the latest trash fashion. Val grimaced at the sight of what looked to be a teenaged woman only slightly younger than Sam swaggering with attitude in the opposite direction with about a dozen piercings decorating her face and ears, a shaved undercut leaving only the top portion of her hair, which was a dyed green mess of dreadlocks. She wore a 'shirt' that was apparently made of translucent plastic, buttoned just below her small breasts to lift them up, completely on display as if she were an exotic dancer in a gentleman's club. She was tatted up the wazoo, only her face bare as several decorated the shaved portions of her skull and neck, with two sleeves and full-body trunk. Her face was surly and beckoning for a fight as she eyed everything and everyone, her 'don't give a shit' attitude almost like heavy perfume. The ensemble of her 'clothes' was complete with baggy cargo pants and a pair of combat boots clomping away on the Boulevard, striding past people and not moving away for anyone for any reason. Stacy just snorted as the punk passed them by, oblivious to them and the fact that they were Officers of the Law. Val was half-tempted to take a PacRod and give the chippy a nice motherly lesson in manners and taste, but doubted that Collins would find that amusing.

"Thank you for having better taste than that." Val told the younger woman walking next to her, who snorted.

"At least she attempted to wear something resembling a shirt." Sam shook her head. "A pair of suspenders would have been a nice addition."

"And cover up that sweet ink?" The Texan drawled, making the Marshal chuckle at the absurdity of the thought. "She looked like a damn walking piece of 'ganger art, you ask me."

"Makes you wonder if there's a rose, rainbow, or butterfly hidden somewhere in that mess." Collins snarked, making Val laugh at what was generally considered a girl's first tattoo. It would have been pretty funny to discover if there was one of those on an ankle, buried underneath the rest. It was good to hear Sam joke. More often that not she was too serious, buried in work, and that ceaseless mind of hers working overtime even by her impressive standards. Just being able to be a person and a woman? Stacy didn't doubt that Collins didn't get much of a chance at that growing up in an orphanage, and then busting her ass double-time in Uni, according to her. Val had seen the transcripts when she asked Sam about them, and saw that the young woman had done eighteen credit hours a semester! Start including studies, schoolwork, and whatever research and papers she had to do during that time, and Val doubted the young woman had anything considered a life. Hell, Jane was her first anyfriend, boy or girl!

And the way she had latched onto Stacy and Royce so quickly? Friends/parental figures, for sure. Poor kid never had a friend in her life, did she? It was like everything that everyone else did ten years prior was happening to her now. Then thrust her in some real bad scenarios like Revan, Therum, and the Citadel, and it was no wonder Collins brought the three of them, her personal support group when things had gone from difficult as shit to terrible beyond belief. The Citadel was a pretty place, but behind the veneer was the racism and oppression that all the races exhume upon one another, the lights and the glam keeping the masses ignorant. Sam could use a few more laughs and a few more friends. No wonder she connected with that Turian girl, Nysiana Velyanis; someone that was the Palavenian version of herself. Val was still a little iffy on that one, though what had happened to her had pissed the Master Chief off something fierce; no one fucked with a subordinate like that, especially over something so stupid.

"Val? Get back on the clock."

Sam's voice had Stacy out of her reverie as she found herself near the 1000 Block (Mid Wards) entrance where she saw a patrol of Citadel Security Services Officers heading towards them in a general direction, walking in a double-column ten Turians deep. Every single one of them was armed and armored like they were walking through New Beijing. It wasn't the first time she was seeing that, and she sincerely doubt that it would be the last. Humans walking to-and-fro through the Wards automatically parted out of the way, which was both smart and wise, but they way they did it… it wasn't common courtesy. It was more like seeing a child shy away from a parents' raised hand, knowing what that hand could do. It set an ugly beat to Val's heart, seeing humans in obvious fear of the Turians. This wasn't cops walking the beat, this was a state police keeping a people down through intimidation and fear, and worse if warranted.

And they got an example of it.

One man, walking in the same direction as the C-SEC patrol, ahead of them and talking to his OmniTool to whomever it was on the other side, hadn't seen the Turians trooping their way through the middle of the Boulevard as if they owned it. Another Human man, seeing what was about to occur, reached out and pull them man out of the way before he was trampled out of the way, but that didn't stop it. The first two Turians on the left-hand side moved with speed and precision, the buttstocks of the Elanus Risk Control Services' M-15 Vindicators spearing forward, striking hard and fast. Both men were struck in their faces, knocking them down to the ground hard, both the man who was walking and the other looking out for him. The Turians hadn't even broken stride, staying in formation as the third and fifth one in the columns kicked the injured men while they were on the ground. Val growled at the sight of the men being struck down, not too different from what she had seen in the horrors of Shanxi. People around the platoon had stopped and stared, yet no one was moving forward to assist the men. The Master-in-Arms could guess why.

"Don't." Stacy grabbed Sam's arm as the Marshal went to move forward, her blue eyes blazing anger as her left hand dipped towards the Smith and Wesson. "Twenty against two plus the surrounding populous. We'll be dead and they'll suffer the repercussions." Collins looked at her with such venom, but it wasn't targeted at the Master Chief. As a Marshal, she had some of the highest authority in all of the Alliance as a law enforcement agent, and a Federal Marshal even higher. Stacy would actually have to think of a Systems Alliance Federal Officer that was higher on the pecking order; Systems Alliance Secret Service, perhaps. To be powerless was a bitter, bitter pill to swallow, and Sam was practically quivering in her own skin, wanting to do something, what she was meant to do, but knowing that Stacy was right.

"It… hurts." Collins breathed out, and Val was reminded that sometimes certain activities that most would consider compromising or corrective could be straining for an Autistic, not being able to understand that sometimes doing the good thing and the right thing weren't necessarily the same thing. Catch-22's probably didn't sit well with Sam, someone who proven to be a very black-and-white viewer of things. Sometimes that neurodevelopmental disorder could get the best of her when stressed or when put in a position that she couldn't solve with logic. Here she was, the Federal Marshal for the Citadel, seeing Turians striking human beings, and knowing that Val was right; they were powerless at this moment. "This cannot stand."

"Agreed." Val's tone was no less venomous, anger in every letter and meaning it. She eyed the Turians hard, hard enough that it was a wonder that they didn't get set on fire as they continued marching through the Wards like they owned it. Hell, they did. "For now, we need to pick our battles. We're not going to win with three MP's and a couple of pick-ups that haven't even started yet. We need to come with the thunder, but we need to make sure we have that thunder first. We don't, not yet." Sam was breathing hard, controlling herself, but she slowly nodded, understanding. The anger didn't fade, but it was buried for now.

"Let's check on them." There was no need to explain; the men knocked down and kicked around. Stacy nodded as they moved from their position and more into the central Boulevard as they approached the two fallen men, still on the white Boulevard surface of the Citadel, rolling on the ground and moaning in pain. Sam went to the one who was in the way while Stacy went to the anonymous hero as they both queued up their Samsung BlueTools, the cobalt GUI-holographic different from the standard sunburst orange that normal users had. Stacy had already selected her Medical Diagnostics App, the scanner on her BlueTool already running over the surface of the man who was holding his nose, a fair amount of blood leaking from his hands. She almost didn't need the 'Tool to tell him that his nose was broken, but she wanted to make sure that nothing else in his face was, especially the zygomatic bones that were the cheeks and the upper maxilla bone that surrounded the nasal passage. He might have broken ribs from the vicious kicks from the powerful digitigrade legs of the Turians, Val knowing all too well how hard they could kick. The scanner went over the man for ten seconds as she swept him from head to toe, getting a basic layout of the man's structures; skeletal, musculature, endocrine, lymphatic, and cardiovascular-pulmonary.

"Broken nose is the worst." She told the man, who looked at her with two eyes that were already puffing up and beginning to blacken. "I can fix it now for free, or I can walk you to the nearest clinic." His eyes went to the blue OmniTool hologram surrounding her left arm like a gauntlet, and then to her.

"C-SEC?" The man asked, wearing normal civilian attire for someone out and about for the day, a long shirt made of synthetic weave, and light pants for someone that didn't need to worry about weather.

"Marshal's Deputy." The Master-in-Arms replied, understanding that the man obviously had some trust issues with law enforcement, especially after eating a Vindicator's buttstock. "I know more than enough basic first aid from the Navy as an MP. I've had a boo-boo or two in my time." That came with an all-too-knowing smile, one that didn't touch her brown eyes. It wasn't her that the extensive training and usage of medical response had been for, but for her men. She had lost too many due to wound and situations, often having to listen to a man cry his life away while trying to stem the enemy back, powerless to do anything. "So, set or clinic?"

"Set." The man grimaced slightly as he removed his hands, showing that his nose was lightly crooked. Stacy had to admit the guy had some balls. She took her right hand and gripped the bridge of his nose as the man nodded once, indicating that he was ready as she straightened the nose out with a nice popping noise added to it. The man grunted in pain, but that was it. Tough bastard, and she said as such.

"Well, human lives matter."

"There's that phrase again." Sam commented next to them, having scanned the man who had been on his 'Tool, his face puffy but apparently nothing broken. "What does it mean, besides the obvious?"

"You should talk to the ones who head us." The man replied somewhat cryptically, though his eyes weren't on them, but up towards some of the displays. "Let you gauge it for yourselves if you're interested."

"Okay, we'll bite." Stacy replied. The man queued up his OmniTool and touched it to Stacy's first, not using a network but a direct connection to transfer a small text message. Val was a little surprised by the obvious paranoia, but perhaps that was just the way things were. She didn't like that it had to be this way. Not at all. She looked down at her 'Tool and accepted the transfer with a simple twitch of her forefinger on her left hand, and saw a name and a contact location and time. It was located in the Scows of the 1200 Block, in some address she didn't recognize save that it was near the Backers, where the Block ended. The time was set for the next day, during the evening. The name meant nothing to her, save that the title was 'Alderman'. Still, she memorized it before deleting it.

The man's name was Donnel Udina.

- - - - - A Fox Amongst The Wolves - - - - -

Author's Note: I know that this was probably a hard read, seeing what Nysiana went through. It might look like I am making Turians 'bad guys' but Nihlus has a point; do not judge the whole based upon a few, and do not judge a few based upon the whole. This is really the meat of what this Arc is about.

A few of my readers have mentioned the jurisdictional issues that would most certainly arise with having two police presences in the same location. Yes, this is true. Keep reading, I got this all planned. It will be solved, probably in the exact way you might predict.

Some have also mentioned that Sam and Jane in a relationship that would be construed as an office fraternization. Like… Shep didn't sleep his/her way through all three games? I'm not going that route, of course. The relationship is to help them both grow, but it isn't all sunshine and flowers.

Stacy is growing as a person, someone who is a veteran of a war who now has to work with a member of a species she does not like. I'm liking the growth.

M4, Part 2 - The Faunts, for all those who forgot the music during the credits to the first Mass Effect game. I could have made it elevator music.

Vrock n' Vroll - Not a typo. Current Rock N' Roll… which make up something. Infused? Virtual? Direct link (no ears required)? I might go more into the music scene with clubs and the like because Tali really liked that soundtrack from… how is it I remember Doren the Bartender but not the name of the bar? I shouldn't cheat and look it up, but… ugh! Flux. :p

Armor: To me, having a shield that 'stops' round is nice, but having a shield that 'slows' rounds seems more effective. Lasts longer, and if the armor can take a softer punch and keep going… why not? My philosophy for ME armor is this; the armor is rated to stop a certain amount of force, and the shield will reduce some of that force, meant to 'cushion' some of the blow so it can slow more rounds instead of stopping only a couple. The Kinetic Shields can be changed from as low as 10% to as high as 90%, but this changes how long they will last, and how hard the rounds passing through it hits. Heavier armors are much more expensive, and actually are less capable as it is modulated for protection, not goodies. Light armor is meant for speed and reconnaissance, or long-period missions. Medium is the 'all-purpose' selection, balancing speed and protection, battery life and goodies (like 'Gels and mods). Heavy Armor has high-end protection in both physical and shields, but loses versatility like mods and 'Gels.

Joules - The Metric version of foot-pounds (because you meter-reading people have neither 'feet' nor 'pounds'. What do you walk on and buy shit with, again?). 1 Joule equals about 0.7376 foot-pounds (1 J = lifting a medium-sized tomato one meter straight up, or dropping it straight down upon impact). In a standard 55 gallon (160L) barrel of oil, there is 6 gigaJoules of potential chemical energy. The kinetic energy of a NATO M855 5.56x45mm 4.1 gram round fired at 930 m/s (Colt M16) is at 1,800 J.

SMART City - Exactly as I described it; a monitored array of life that is evolving to be more efficient through the use of scanners, readers, and computer managers. Think of your FICO and Credit Score becoming important in changing the 'value' of not only your house, but also the real estate around you. All those scary stories about being monitored by National Agencies and all-inclusive surveillances monitoring your every move? CLOSER THAN YOU CARE TO THINK! Aren't you glad your SmartPhone is connected to your Twitter account and your SnapChat? #NowhereToRunNowFucker (#FBISurveillanceVan) For a kick? Name your WiFi as that at a Starbucks and watch people jump! :D

BIG BROTHER - George Orwell's classic 1984. Big Brother was a near-deific socialist leader of Airstrip One (London or England), who monitored its citizenry through the use of cameras, even to the point where the protagonist (Winston Smith) was berated for not stretching out properly in front of his (and everyone's) morning exercise routine when the videoed instructor called him out on it. It is an amazing book, and I've used its Ministries (Plenty, Truth, Peace and Love) as the basis for the Batarian Hegemony (double plus ungood). This might be the first concept of a 'SMART City' through omnipresent surveillance devices and public manipulation. If you've never read this, please do so. At nearly seventy years old (released in 1949), it's more relevant today than when it came out, a future far too close to us now. Ignorance is Strength! War is Peace! Freedom is Slavery! Now where's my Victory-gin?

The young punk? That was Jack. For fashion, of course.

Udina? Oh yes. That Udina.