Chapter 5: All Things Come in Threes

To my complete and utter astonishment, things were looking up. My case was actually going somewhere. I now had a sense of why my client's daughter had gone missing. Maybe it had started as a cry for attention or an attempt to escape a neglectful mother. But now it had turned into an abduction, one of many that fit a particular profile.

I also had allies, who had proven they could handle themselves in combat and—more importantly—could work together towards a common goal. This case hadn't even seen the end of the first day, and already I'd been beaten up and shot at. Whoever was behind these abductions, they meant business. It was a relief to know that my… my team meant business too.

Finally, after patiently tracking down fruitless lead after fruitless lead, I had a destination. All the abductees had been tricked or manipulated into going to the same establishment—Amber's. So that's where we were headed next.

As we walked, I tried to remember everything I knew of Amber's. It started out as one of many run-down and seedy clubs, indistinguishable from the rest what with its poor lighting, sticky floors, watered-down drinks and overcharged prices. Almost as if they were trying to meet every questionable criteria on some list.

Then they started cleaning up their act. Adding more lighting in general—decent stuff, not the cheap crap that burned out within a month or developed a permanent flicker within a week. They actually started cleaning the floors, not to mention walls and tables and chairs. Funny how a little thing like that can make such a difference. And they stopped watering down the drinks, so you could actually get a buzz. Spirits, they even stopped ripping off the… oh, who am I kidding? Their prices were still outrageous. Baby steps, I guess.

Back when I was still working with C-Sec—both before and after that exciting, terrifying time I spent with Shepard on the Normandy—I used to keep an eye on the place. Deep in my gizzard, I knew there was something wrong about the place. The speed of the makeover was too sudden for my liking. For that matter, where did the owners find the credits to pay for all that? I tried to follow the money trail, but to no avail. Whoever it was, they'd done a damn good job of covering their tracks.

There was something off about the people too. Some of the staff seemed to have gaps in their work histories that never seemed adequately explained. Where they'd come from, what qualifications they possessed, that sort of thing. And the customers… as humans would say, there was something piscine about them. The long-term customers always seemed to have long-standing ties to certain unsavoury businesses, semi-legal enterprises and organized crime. Not to mention all the credits—and sapients—they had in their pockets. As for the more… transient clientele, they always seemed to arrive just before something happened. The arrival of a suspicious shipment, a heist of some sort, the sudden death of someone. Their departure was just as convenient.

If I had my way, I would've shut the whole place down. Rounded up the staff and as many customers as I could into custody for interrogation. Scan every squad millimetre and go through every computer terminal and omni-tool. And then maybe burn the place down as a public service. Accidentally, of course.

Naturally, that didn't happen. Brass wouldn't sign off on it. All circumstantial evidence and hearsay, they said. In order to authorize any kind of thorough investigation, we needed hard proof. Of course, the only way to get that hard proof was to conduct a thorough investigation. Privately, some of them admitted that. But they wouldn't budge. Which left me with no other choice but to keep an eye on Amber's on my own time.

And people always asked me why I never had a social life.

Sadly, I never got any of that hard proof. In fact, I only got one thing out of all my extracurricular activities. Well, two if you count the missed opportunity to hook up with a really hot turian I met once upon a time. Three, if you count the missed opportunity to take a gorgeous asari up on her offer of catching a movie. Four, if you...

...all right, all right! I gave up romance and happiness to chase my obsessed and possibly skewed interpretation of justice. You happy now?

Anyway, the only upside to all that time I spent alone and single was a thorough knowledge of the back alleys, catwalks and maintenance tunnels around Amber's. Which I was currently using instead of the main streets, which any idiot could monitor with his eyes closed. Well, not really, but you get the idea. I was in the lead, since I supposedly knew where I was going. That left Tali and Geirk to chat.

"Shotgun pellet fragments and spreads out," Geirk was saying. "Cause damage."

"I know how a shotgun works," Tali replied. "I have fired one before."

Geirk shook his head. "But you not use shotgun properly. You wait too long to fire. Let pellet spread too far. Not cause maximum damage. Yes. Your shotgun—one you use now—you always have it? Always train with it?"

"No," Tali shook her head. "I started out with a Mark I Storm shotgun."

"That the problem," Geirk shook his head. "You treat all shotguns the same. Should not do that. No. Shots from Storm series spread quickly. Poor accuracy. You compensate by letting target get closer before shooting.

"But that shotgun different. I see it have tighter spread. Better accuracy. You can shoot targets farther away. Not have to let target get close before dying. Not have to fire so many times. Not have to risk overheat."

Spirits. Was Geirk giving Tali a... lesson?

"I... guess I never realized that," Tali admitted.

"Me, don't mind if targets get close," Geirk continued. "Get close, stop firing shotgun, use claws. Rip throat out. Or heart. Or guts. Or spleen. Like having choice. Yes. But you not have claws. Maybe better if you not let targets get that close. Yes?"

"Yeah," Tali agreed. "Makes sense."

Tali was always up for learning and trying new things. That's one of the reasons why I liked her. But if she started mimicking Geirk's way of speech, then we might have a problem. Better to finish this case as soon as possible. Yes.

...

Crap.

I picked up the pace a bit. Mostly because that pile of decomposing... whatever-it-was that the keepers hadn't picked up yet was really stinking up the joint. And, maybe, just maybe, because the thought of adopting some of Geirk's bad habits was scaring the crap out of me—"Whoa-whoa-WHOA!"

"Garrus!"

Though maybe not quite as much as the thought of falling off the catwalk and plummeting all the way to the ground, where I'd become a pile of decomposing turian-in-hardsuit. As the humans say, 'slow and steady wins the marathon.' And 'watch your feet.' And other sayings and clichés that I undoubtedly mangled beyond recognition.

"Are you all right, Garrus?" Tali wanted to know.

"Yeah," I reassured her. "I'm fine. Just tripped, I guess."

"Garrus get paid for finding asari," Geirk reminded me. "Yes. Garrus not get paid for taking header off catwalk. Not paid for screaming all way down like little girl. Not paid for getting smushed into big, flat dextro pancake. Not—"

"All right, all right!" I burst out. "I get it!"

"Just try to help. No charge. No."

I continued on my way, though at a slower pace than before. Tali and Geirk followed me as we went up a ladder to another catwalk, up again to the top level. Then we walked along before going down, then down again. Took a left here, a right there, another left here, then another right. Finally, we went down corridor B-something and through exit junction A.

And there we were: Amber's. Still had the coloured concrete walls, real authentic stone cobblestones—I once did a mineralogical scan to make sure—and stained glass windows. Very warm and inviting if you didn't know any better. Still warm and inviting if you had legitimate—or illegitimate—business.

But if you were bumbling around looking to cause trouble, like yours truly, then the greeting could be considerably colder. Vacuum-of-space cold. Motioning with one hand, I brought Tali and Geirk to a halt. "All right," I began, "we need to get some intel before we go any further. Zephi and the other asari could be anywhere inside Amber's."

"Is Amber's a large establishment?" Tali asked.

"No," I shook my head. "But there are still a lot of places they could be. Near the front door. In the middle. In the corner. In the kitchen. By the back door."

"Also need to know number of people who need killing," Geirk added. "Or might need killing."

"Uh... yeah," I nodded. "That too. We don't know how many people are in this asari-targeting racket. Or how many people might support them simply because they don't appreciate outsiders running roughshod through their local watering hole. Going in guns blazing is a great way to get us killed. We need to think about this carefully and plan our next move."

Tali turned her head sharply and stared at me. At least, I assume she was staring at me. Her helmet's faceplate was certainly facing me. "What?" I asked. "You disagree?"

"No, no, that's exactly what I was thinking," Tali said. "I... just didn't expect you to say that."

"Think you know someone," Geirk sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "Then find out it all lie. Yes."

This was another reason I missed Shepard. In any other situation, it would be him being the voice of reason and me poking fun at him. You never appreciate what you have until it's gone...

"All right," I said, shifting the topic away from my newfound image as a responsible turian and back to the task at hand. "Geirk will go in and gather intel. I'll cover the front entrance to make sure we don't have any unexpected company; Tali gets the rear."

Seeing Tali's head tilt in curiosity, I elaborated: "If I go in, and even one person recognizes me or pegs me as a former C-Sec officer, my cover—and the chances of getting the asari out safe and sound—will be blown."

"What about me?" Tali wanted to know.

"Three years ago, a quarian was hired to fix the plumbing at Amber's," I told her. "One of several illegal workers."

"And?" Tali prompted. "What happened?"

"We found his body dumped in an alley. He'd only been working a week. I'd never seen that many bullet wounds, lacerations and broken bones on a single body before."

"You know? The back entrance sounds like a good idea," Tali decided firmly. And quickly. Couldn't blame her.

"Geirk has a reputation as..." I trailed off, trying to find a delicate way to put it.

"Dirty rotten scoundrel?" Geirk suggested. "Brooding bad boy? Crazy homicidal psycho?"

He sounded so proud. I guess I would be too, if I was in his shoes. Except the last part, of course. Honest. "The point is that he's known amongst the kind of clientele Amber's attracts," I continued. "As long as he can provide a story that doesn't involve missing asari, he'll fit right in. No one'll suspect a thing."

"Already got story," Geirk reassured me. "I go in to find missing batarian. Got bet going that I find him before bounty hunter Massani."

"Zaeed Massani?" I asked curiously.

"Yes," Geirk nodded. "You know him?"

"Only by reputation," I replied. "Everyone on both sides of the law's heard of Zaeed Massani. He's one of the best—and infamous—bounty hunters and independent mercs out there," I elaborated for Tali's benefit. "He'll go from one end of Citadel space to the other end of the Terminus Systems to get his man, or woman, and to hell with anyone who gets in his way."

"Sounds like your kind of guy," Tali said wryly.

Since when did she get so cheeky?

"So: trying to beat Zaeed Massani to the punch. Yeah. They'll buy that. Just... do me a favour, Geirk?"

"Keep heads intact so you can blow them away later?"

"Don't get carried away," I pleaded. "It would be nice to keep the body count to a minimum."

Geirk shot me a weird look. "Must be on something. Need drug testing. Yes."

"And on that cheerful note, I'm heading to the back," Tali said.

True to her word, she left almost immediately. Geirk waited for about five minutes, more than enough time to ensure that she was in position, before strolling towards the front entrance.

Then I was alone once more.

I stood there, hidden in the shadows. As my eyes watched, darting around to pick up any and every detail, my mind raced back. This was just like that... well, it wasn't exactly a mission. Assignment, perhaps? Whatever it was, it occurred during one of our return trips to the Citadel. Shepard had overindulged his usual habit of looting every crate, container and corner and wanted to sell off the excess before his back gave out—or before Ashley finally had enough and assaulted a superior officer for constantly giving her more work.

After selling all the weapons that he didn't have any use for, he indulged another habit of his: approaching random strangers, striking up a conversation and learning everything there was to know. This led him to talk to a waitress at Flux named Rita, whose sister Jenna had been recruited to work at Chora's Den as an undercover informant. And that triggered a third habit of his: offering to help someone who needed help. That habit, at least, we share. Or shared.

Shepard had a way of convincing people to help him or help themselves. Sadly, it didn't always work. Try as he might, he couldn't convince Jenna that her new life would be very exciting and very short. That's when Chellick stepped in. He didn't usually take such a personal involvement in his undercover operations unless he deemed it necessary. Evidently, an upstart human Spectre and a hotheaded former C-Sec officer bumbling around Chora's Den qualified as necessary.

It turned out that Chellick was using Jenna to track down an illegal arms producer. He'd gathered enough intel that he was willing to cut her loose and extract her, but he still needed some more hard evidence. True to form, Shepard offered to help acquire that evidence by meeting a seller and picking up a shipment of weapon and ammo mods.

I helped Shepard set up the meet. On my advice, we split the squad into three groups. One group would meet the seller, Jax. Meanwhile, the other two groups would stake out the entrances to the meeting point in advance, just to make sure there weren't any surprises.

My inner musings were interrupted by the telltale hiss heralding the opening of a comm channel. "Garrus?"

All right. Time to focus. "Yeah, Geirk?"

"No asari seen in dining area. Moving to rear."

"Wait, Geirk."

That was Tali. "What's going on?" I asked.

"I have an asari... stumbling her way towards the back. She's activated the door chime. And a human just opened the door—looks like a bouncer. They're... hang on, let me turn up the gain on my audio feeds."

...

"The bouncer is telling her that the line-up is at the front. Unless she's a stripper, but he doesn't think she is because no one called in sick tonight." Tali reported. "The asari is saying... Ugh, she's saying she could totally take her clothes off if she wanted to... now the bouncer is checking her out... no, I think he's just staring down her blouse... now he's asking if she comes here frequently and she's saying..."

...

"I think she said Sam sent her," Tali said. "Hard to tell—she's slurring a lot. And she's swaying back and forth so much, she's making me dizzy. But the bouncer stopped staring at her breasts to look up and down the alley. And... now he's letting her in."

Ah yes. Nothing identifies a vile pit of injustice quite like a man going from pervert to professional in ten milliseconds flat. "Geirk? Change of plans. Stay where you are and—"

"See asari. Yes. Will keep eyes on her. Won't lose her. No."

With that decided, I returned to watching and waiting. Just like Shepard and I did, all those months ago. We were tasked with meeting the weapons buyers and receiving the merchandise. While we waited, Shepard and I talked. I'd told him that I didn't have a problem with being patient and waiting around. In these kinds of situations, you had to arrive early. Make sure you aren't followed, secure the area, get a sense of the terrain and local traffic, watch for potential threats or dirtbags.

I was all for putting in the time and effort to get the job done, but not if it meant satisfying some data-pusher or bureaucrat who had spent too much time sitting in front of a computer to know the crap that was happening out in the real world. I didn't have the patience to sit idly by while innocent civilians suffered at the hands of criminals and cowards.

I could tell he sympathized with me, but didn't entirely agree. Sure enough, he confirmed it in a subsequent conversation—he too didn't believe in standing idly by when innocents clearly needed his help. But sometimes he disagreed with how the situation should be handled. Where I might call a move decisive, he might deem it sloppy. Where I saw efficiency, he saw expediency.

Spirits, he might've had something to say about my whole 'go-to-Omega-and-dispense-justice' idea. We'd only known each other, fought side by side, for a year, but that was more than enough time for me to know that he was the better man. A true hero that truly deserved all the praise and accolades, no matter how much he might want to deny them—and I could tell he sincerely wanted to deny them.

I wished he was here. Not just for his silver tongue or his tactical prowess, but because he had a knack for figuring out the best path through any problem. And because I missed him.

But Shepard wasn't here. He was dead. All I could do was fumble my way through and hope I didn't fuck it up.

I couldn't afford to do that. Zephi's life might depend on it.

"Garrus?"

Of course, Zephi wasn't the only asari who was in danger. "Yeah, Geirk?"

"Asari enter bar."

Wait. I've heard this story before.

"Human right behind her. Asari get drink, even though she already hammered. Asari chug drink down while human scan her with omni-tool. Human give signal to bartender. Bartender mix another drink—but think he add something. Asari drink that too. Asari slump on bar. Bouncer and bartender call her cheap drunk. They take her out back door."

Okay. Maybe I hadn't.

"I can confirm that," Tali reported. "Two humans, with the asari between them. They're heading down the alley."

I quickly pulled up a map of the surrounding area on my HUD. "Tali, stay where you are," I ordered. "Watch them until they're out of sight, then wait at least three minutes before following. I'll be in position by then. Geirk, I'm sending a NavPoint to your omni-tool. You'd better be there in ten minutes tops."

There's an art to tailing a target. Go into it without knowing what you're doing and you'll be made. If that happens, your target might run. Or lead you into a trap. Or take hostages. Or open fire. Or—if you're really unlucky—shit their pants. No matter how you roll the dice, they'll always come up with something dangerous, potentially lethal and probably messy.

You have to blend in to your surroundings. Walk like you have somewhere else in mind, someone else to meet, and you just happened to be in the same area and at the same time as your target. Always be aware of any sites or activities you can take advantage of if your target pulls off any counter-surveillance techniques. Window shopping, stopping to admire a hot chick, that sort of thing.

You can't get too close or walk too fast, or your target will make you for sure. You can't hang back too far or go too slow, as you risk losing your target. Every target, every situation is different. It takes a combination of training, experience and instinct to know how to follow your target, how much lead you should give and when you should stop.

It's easier to tail a target when you have a team. When you have a team, you can pass off to a partner and then wander off. Let your partner trail along for a spell before passing off to someone else. Do it often enough and it'll be a lot harder for the dirtbags to figure it out. It's not impossible—all it takes is one person whose training or tradecraft is sloppy and the dirtbags'll start actively looking—but it's a lot harder.

Of course, there's an art to that too. You have to know when to pass off to the next member of your surveillance team. That involves things like gauging the wariness of your target. Extrapolating where they're heading in the next few minutes. You also have to keep track of how many times a particular team member is doing the following. If your tail is paying attention and employing the proper techniques, he and she will realize that the same person or persons keep showing up, at which point the jig is up.

And the most important thing of tailing a target with a team? Keep them in the loop. Nothing identifies a tail quite like running onto the scene and wildly looking around. Trust me—it's happened more times than I care to remember.

So I let Tali follow the humans and the asari out the alley and down a few blocks. By then, I was ready to take her place. A quick text message to Tali sent her meandering towards a kiosk selling hardsuit mods while I smoothly sauntered in. I tracked the targets while pretending to surf the extranet on my omni-tool. After a few minutes, I started picking up the pace. It wasn't long before I passed them, which was fine since Geirk was in position and ready to follow them from the catwalks.

We did this for the next half hour, switching over at random points. It was tricky at first. I had to cover as many possible paths as possible, which isn't easy when you only have three people. But I had a couple ideas on where they were going. After a while, it became an idea. Singular.

And after a while, it became a very strong feeling in my gizzard. From there, it was only a short skip and hop to a sure thing. Tali and I entered the corridor together and joined Geirk at a junction point. "Humans take asari in there," he said, tilting his head towards the door.

"Chora's Den?" Tali groaned. "Again? Really?"

"Been here before," Geirk guessed, his words more a statement than a question. "Yes."

"Tali had some information on Saren," I began.

"Saren?" Geirk interrupted. "Spectre Saren? Got tired of sitting, staying and playing fetch with Council masters Saren? Went rogue, got geth army, tried to take over galaxy while twirling mustache Saren?"

"Yes, yes, yes, sort of," I replied, answering his questions in order. "He didn't have a mustache to twirl."

"You sure?"

"Very."

"Can't trust what you read on the extranet," Geirk sighed, shaking his head. "No."

"Anyway," I said loudly, "Tali had information connecting Saren to the geth. She offered it to the Shadow Broker in exchange for protection. The Shadow Broker put her in touch with one of his agents, Fist.

"I met Fist at his workplace—Chora's Den," Tali took over. "After a few minutes of conversation, he directed me to a nearby alley, where I would meet the Shadow Broker. I didn't know that Fist had sold out to Saren and the so-called meeting was actually with some of Saren's hired goons."

"Meanwhile, I was trying to continue my investigation into Saren's activities," I continued. "Turned out a human named Shepard was trying to do the same thing. We joined forces, along with a krogan bounty hunter, and stormed Chora's Den. After a lot of fighting, we managed to get some information from Fist before he was killed. Then we went after Tali, and found her just in time."

"Though I was holding my own quite nicely until you showed up," Tali added.

"True," I conceded. "And now we're back here again. Funny how things go full circle." Taking a chance, I peered around the corner. "Not much traffic," I observed. "Come to think of it… there isn't any traffic at all." Raising my arm, I activated my omni-tool. "Hmm."

"Hmm?" Tali prompted.

"According to this, Chora's Den is temporarily closed due to 'unforeseen circumstances.' They'll be open as soon as possible, apologies for any inconvenience, ya-de-ya-de-ya-da."

"Convenient," Geirk growled. "Yes."

"Yes," I agreed, my mind spinning. I entered in a quick search. My omni-tool spat out the results. "Interesting," I said aloud.

"On a hunch, I looked up all news and social media announcements on Chora's Den," I explained, before Tali or Geirk could ask. A quick tap brought up a holographic display of the results over my omni-tool. "As you can see, Chora's Den has had four unexpected closures over the last year. The first one occurred when Shepard and I went in, guns blazing, to find Fist and get some answers.

"What interests me are the other occurrences. The second closure was almost three weeks ago—about the time that all these random asari disappearances started. The third happened last night—which corresponds to Zephi's abduction. And now tonight's sudden shutdown, at roughly the same time that this asari was taken here."

"But I thought more than three asari have gone missing," Tali said.

I shook my head. "Most of those were resolved without incident. Besides, remember Geirk's report on the asari getting scanned? I'm betting that the person or persons behind these abductions are looking for asari that meet a specific set of criteria. They hired random thugs to redirect asari to Amber's, where they can run a quick scan without notice. If the asari don't match their criteria, let them drink themselves into a stupor or have a one-night stand. Something that doesn't draw any unwanted attention. But if they are a match, then they get drugged and delivered to Chora's Den—which conveniently closes to minimize the chance of any witnesses.

"Whatever they're doing, we have to stop them. Now."

"Garrus," Tali protested. "We'd be going in blind. For all we know, there could be dozens of criminals in there—please don't look so happy, Geirk," she added, spotting his toothy grin.

"Not exactly," I disagreed. "We know the layout: main room's a circle. Outer edge has some protection from tables and chairs. Bar set in the middle. On the other side is a door leading to a small storage room, with a door at the far end leading to the office.

"We also have the element of surprise. They've been doing this for almost three weeks without getting caught. And this is the third time they've transported an asari to Chora's Den, right under C-Sec's nose. There's a good chance that they've let their guard down by now."

"At least wait until we get some reinforcements from C-Sec," Tali pleaded.

"I already checked my inbox," I replied. "No response. All my e-mails must have been bogged down in the system. By the time Chellick or anyone verifies they aren't spam, opens them, puts in an official request for or unofficially mobilizes a rapid reaction force and gets over here, it could be too late. It could already be too late for Zephi and…" I paused, as a thought occurred to me. "Geirk, who are you after? And what exactly are the details of your contract?"

"Hired two weeks ago to find asari. Goes by Liselle. Either bring her back alive or kill everyone who helped abduct and kill her."

"Bring her back to…" I prompted.

"Omega."

Omega. The lawless epicenter of the lawless Terminus Systems. The same place I was destined for, assuming this job didn't kill me. And someone from that rotting cesspit wanted this Liselle badly enough to hire Geirk and offer the requisite bonus fee for his bring-'em-in-alive rates. I wished I had time to pursue that. But then, it wouldn't be the first time I wished for something. "Zephi and Liselle might already be dead," I continued. "But we might still be in time to save this last asari. I know it's a big risk. But there are lives at stake and we're as ready as we're ever going to get."

I took a deep breath. "So I need to know: are you with me? Will you help me?"

Tali paused, considering all the available options. Then she took a step towards me. "I'm with you, Garrus" she declared.

Geirk already had his assault rifle in his hands, practically bouncing on his feet. "Let's go kill bad guys."

Oh. Yes.

The terms of engagement were quite simple: get in, rescue any captives, get out. If anyone got in our way, they had one chance—and only one chance—to stand down before we put them down. Not something you'd see in the C-Sec handbook.

I spared a moment to pray that the spirits would understand my need for haste before leading my team through the door and into Chora's Den.

Most of it was just as I remembered it. Dimly lit. Floor, walls and ceiling all white, the better to reflect the lighting. Lights ran in a circle above the bar, glowing in an icy blue hue, while red lights smoldered from the walls of the bar itself and the perimeter of the room. The lights were individually bright, but small and spread out. The result was a mosaic of contrasts: bright but dim, harsh yet subdued.

Any conversation came to a halt as we barged in. Heads turned. Eyes narrowed, cold and empty one moment, fiery and burning the next. Hands dropped to weapons, which were present in depressingly predictable quantities. The silence lingered, almost deafening our ears. An intangible, unseen pressure vibrated through the air, building to an unbearable climax.

"We're here for the asari," I said at last. My voice carried throughout the room, distracting everyone from my careful series of eye movements and blinks. "We don't want any trouble."

Half the dirtbags in the room dove for cover. The other half pulled their various weapons out of their holsters. "Weapons free!" I barked.

Tali, Geirk and I were already ducking behind various tables I had selected with my HUD, pushing them over to protect us from the onslaught of gunfire. Geirk and I were firing our assault rifles in short bursts to keep the recoil down and minimize the heat buildup. Each round of fire was aimed at a different dirtbag, keeping them occupied and softening them up while Tali took them out with her pistol. She could have used a different weapon, but she'd never displayed any fondness for the assault rifle or sniper rifle. And the shotgun was only good at short range—meaning that if she had to resort to that, either we were in a position to be significantly more aggressive or we were thoroughly screwed.

Though she didn't have all the fun. She took out one surly turian—I pretended that she didn't mean to shoot him in the crotch first. Geirk would've gotten another, but a barrage of gunfire ricocheting off his shields sent him scurrying to another table. I finished off 'my' target before swiveling on my heels. The pair of humans trying to flank us stumbled to a halt, clearly realizing that they'd been made. I raised my assault rifle and opened fire, pouring a lethal stream of fire right through one of them. The other one took a flying leap to the side, sliding behind another table. No matter: Geirk and I were tied for five kills each, while Tali had four.

That was when two cylinders rose into position, one on either side of the door leading to the storage room and office at the back. A bright light burst into life at the top of each cylinder. "Hostiles detected," a female voice boomed out. Or voices—sounded like a couple VIs speaking in unison from the various speakers located throughout the room. "Shield generators on-line."

All right, I told myself: any doubts about whether we should make our way towards the back had just been squashed.

Then a single female voice spoke. "Who am I?"

That was weird. Another thing I'd have to investigate, once the situation had been downgraded from 'possibly terminal' to 'probably hazardous.' "Cover me," I yelled.

As Geirk and Tali complied, I switched to my sniper rifle. Aiming through the scope, I filtered out all the lights, the dull rapid thuds of automatic fire, the occasional boom from a shotgun, the screams of various dirtbags and the howls of joy from our resident vorcha psycho. I slowly exhaled, steadying my aim. My talon gently pressed against the trigger, almost caressing it…

…a shot rang out…

…and the left shield generator exploded, sending burning eezo and shrapnel everywhere. Including the hapless salarian who got shredded to pieces.

"Alert: shield generator one off-line," the voices announced in stereo. Then, a second later: "What's that noise?"

I panned my sniper rifle to the right. No clear shot—the bar was in the way. The same could not be said for the human with a day's growth of stubble on his face. "Seven kills," I announced, as I lowered my sniper rifle and sprinted for a better position.

"Five," Tali replied, as another human collapsed.

"Six," Geirk growled. "Enjoy while you can, Garrus. You not stay in lead for long. No."

"Talk is cheap, Geirk," I called out, spotting the perfect vantage point to take out the second shield generator. Unfortunately, there was a turian occupying that spot. Fortunately, I had momentum and surprise on my side. Without slowing down or pausing, I charged right into him, shoving him out into the open. Wrex would be proud, I reflected, as I crouched down. Again, I lifted my sniper rifle, aimed and fired.

"Alert: shield generator two off-line."

"I don't remember."

This time, no one was close enough to be taken out by the exploding shield generator. But that was okay—there was a target right in front of me. And looming over me. I lifted my sniper rifle as if to fire. The turian sneered, knowing that I couldn't possibly fire again. Not so soon. Not when my weapon was in the middle of venting all that heat.

I sneered back, just before rising to my feet and reaching out. Taken by surprise, the turian tried to step back. My arm shot out faster than he could retreat, my talons latching on his hardsuit. Then I dropped back down, letting my body weight and gravity overcome the dirtbag's momentum. I landed in a crouch. He landed on his face. I grabbed his head, lifted it up, then slammed it back down on the ground once. Twice. Three times. Then I pulled out my shotgun, jammed the barrel against the back of his head and fired.

"Eight," I called out.

"Six," Tali sang.

By then, my sniper rifle had cooled down. I lifted it up again, ignoring the dead turian, my shotgun, and the mess it had just made. Activating my HUD, I did a quick scan of the room. A quick blink of the eyes ordered Geirk to keep the approaching krogan occupied. Preferably before he tore us limb from limb. Tali was assigned to the pair of humans that were hiding behind the bar. She gamely lay down a steady stream of shots, keeping their heads down with every exploding bottle. That gave me plenty of time to line up some shots of my own.

"Nine and ten," I crowed. "Damn, I'm good."

"After letting me do all the work," Tali retorted. "Seven."

"Only because I soften him up for you," Geirk snapped. "Yes."

While Tali and Geirk were arguing, I did another sensor sweep. Someone had to keep an eye on the battlefield, after all. "Geirk, two more dirtbags coming from the far side. Keep them pinned down—wait." To my surprise, there were only three more dirtbags. "Geirk, take care of those dirtbags. Tali, you and I get the krogan."

"Time to die, bitches! Oh, yes! Bwahahahahaaaa!"

"System in standby mode. EEG sync of new unit commencing."

"I can't see. Why can't I see?"

Tali and I were slightly more restrained. On my order, Tali fired a couple shots at the krogan's face. Wouldn't kill him, thanks to his thick skull—and his shields—but it did slow him down. Just as he was passing by one of the light panels. Certified to meet Citadel safety codes, which meant they weren't designed to handle a pistol shot from yours truly. The resulting explosion of light and glass in his face, brought the krogan to a screeching halt. That bought me enough time to bring up my sniper rifle again and fire a perfect headshot.

One that didn't put him down. Geez, that skull of his must've been thick!

A single shot rang out. The krogan went down. I turned to my right. Tali raised the barrel of her pistol to her helmet, mimed blowing some imaginary smoke from it, then holstered it. "That's eight."

"Yes it is," I agreed. "Now let's see how Geirk is doing."

We turned around. Geirk was ducking, dodging, rolling, somersaulting... basically anything to avoid the frantic gunfire from the last two dirtbags. Their barely concealed panic was perfectly understandable: Geirk's reputation was far worse—and far bloodier—than mine. Yes, I know that's saying something. And while Geirk wasn't firing back, all his weaving back and forth was getting him inexorably closer to his targets. Which suggested that he wanted to use his shotgun.

Then he vaulted over a table and charged right towards them, ignoring the shots that were now bouncing off his shields. Guess he wanted to get up close and personal so he could rip their throats out…

…

Wait. "That light…?" I started.

"Around Geirk's hands…" Tali continued.

"Is that…?"

"It looks like…"

"Biotics?" we finished in unison, looking at each other in surprise.

We turned back in time to see Geirk swipe at one of the dirtbags. There was a bright flash of cerulean light. He swiped at the other dirtbag. Another flash. Then he turned around and beamed at us.

The bodies of the dirtbags flopped to the ground. Minus their heads, courtesy of two point-blank blasts of biotics that had torn them clean off their shoulders, turned them into gory mixtures of hair, skin, bone and brains and embedded them into the wall.

"I… didn't know vorcha had biotics," Tali managed at last.

"Spirits," I said. "He wasn't kidding. He really is a biotic."

"Seven and eight!" Geirk announced. "Booyah! Who's next?" He looked around eagerly, head whipping from side to side. Then he looked around again. And again.

"That's it?" he pouted.

Much to Geirk's dismay, that was it. There were no more scum to blight this corner of the galaxy. Nor were there any in the storage room or the short corridor leading to the office.

The office, however, was a different story. A salarian stumbled to his feet as we burst in. He was dressed in a lab coat, which had a few stains on it. Dark purple stains. About the same colour and hue as dried asari blood. We'd interrupted him in the midst of tinkering with…

…with…

…

"Spirits," I breathed.

"Keelah," Tali gasped.

We were all caught off guard by the… structure standing before us. A series of girders and bracings surrounded an industrial-grade power core, forming a rough pyramidal shape that took up most of the office. A series of bags, tubes and wires hung from hooks attached to the bracings. Even a civvie could tell what they were: drugs and nutrients, IV tubings and attachments for bio-monitors.

All hooked into the three asari.

They lay there, strapped in a vertical position by metal clamps fastened around their wrists, waist and ankles. Tubes and wires ran around them, plugging into them like they were some sort of machine.

"EEG sync complete," they said in unison. "All units within operational parameters."

Which, I suppose, was the whole point.

"My legs," the newest asari—not Zephi or Liselle—whimpered. "I can't feel my legs."

"Yes." I almost didn't recognize the voice, even though it came from my own mouth. I turned towards the salarian, my eyes narrowing. "What is going on?"

"Oh, just putting some theories into practical application," the salarian said, blinking his eyes.

This was going to end well. "'Practical applications'," I repeated. "Perhaps you could elaborate, Mister…"

"Dr. Belron, thank you," the salarian corrected, with an edge that suggested the distinction was very important to him. Not because addressing him by his proper title was the polite thing to do, but because he was a Very Smart Salarian Who Earned It. In my experience, people like that always need to emphasize how smart they are and the best way to do so was to talk about all their accomplishments. "Dr. Belron," I nodded amiably. "And this was your doing? No graduate students to put it together for you?"

Another calculated jab to his ego. Some scientists liked the prestige of being such an important and distinguished figure that they had underlings to do all the grunt work in the lab. Other scientists took pride in being all hands-on and being involved in the process. I didn't know which category Dr. Belron fell in, but it was a safe bet he'd talk either way.

"Used to have graduate students," Belron sighed. "And a lab. And tenure."

Ah yes. Tenure. Very important in academic circles. From what I understood, it basically meant you had a job for life.

"But then someone reported me for ethical violations. Some little person who was too small to dream big. Just like the disciplinary committee. So I got fired. And I wandered around. Before I pulled together the funding to come here and set up shop." Belron looked at his… contraption and shrugged. "A bit crude, but it's just a prototype. Proof-of-concept stuff."

"Fluctuation in coolant systems detected," the asari said in eerie unison. "Correcting." Then Zephi shuddered. "I feel… cold," she whimpered.

It was all I could do to ignore their suffering. "A prototype of…" I prompted.

"Society can't exist without VIs," Belron shrugged. "We need them to collate data, analyze data, monitor news feeds, organize itineraries. Do the basic low-level stuff so we can concentrate on other, more important things. And while VI development has progressed significantly over the decades, there are definite limits to how far they can progress. Any effort to push past their boundaries, to make them think abstractedly, to take some measure of initiative either results in the whole VI crashing or the production of an actual AI.

"I decided to try something new. People often forget what VI stands for: Virtual Intelligence. An effort on our part to create ersatz facsimiles of our own minds, with all their data processing and memory storage capabilities, to facilitate usage and operation of modern computer systems. But I asked myself 'Why settle for a copy when you can employ the real thing?' In many ways, sapient minds are still more advanced and sophisticated than VIs. So that's what I did."

"Core temperature stabilized," the asari said in eerie unison. "Processing." Then Liselle flinched. "What's going on?" she asked.

"You…" I think I was starting to understand what he was getting at, much to my utter horror. "You took a computer—"

"A very advanced supercomputer," Belron interrupted.

"—but rather than install a VI interface, you… you plugged in a… an asari interface?"

"Unlike other races, asari have conscious control over their own nerve impulses," Belron explained eagerly. "That level of awareness made them optimal candidates. At least, that's what I thought at first. It's commonly known that humans have a dramatically complex and varied range of genetic diversity. Awareness of asari nervous system diversity is less common. Even I didn't fully appreciate it until I began searching for candidates who were compatible with my process."

"Which is why you only have three asari plugged in when you've been doing this for almost a month," I nodded. "What happens if you put in an asari who is… incompatible?"

"The system will be unable to establish a proper connection," Belron replied. "If so, it will reject the new unit. A failsafe I incorporated into its design: I didn't want any data corruption to occur that might carry over to the other units."

"Units?" Tali gasped. "They're asari! Living beings!"

"Oh yes, of course," Belron nodded amiably. "They still are: the integration isn't complete, after all. I wasn't able to completely sublimate their own sense of self-identity, which causes a certain inefficiency in the network's neural matrix. Ideally, the units would be augmented with implants, but I'd need a surgical suite for that. Maybe remove any unnecessary biological components while I'm at it. Or not—finding enough supplies to keep them alive is hard enough with all their organs and other systems in place."

As horrifying as it was to hear Belron reduce these innocents to 'units,' there was a certain cause for hope. It sounded like whatever he'd done to them might not be permanent. Certainly it wasn't invasive.

"But I suppose none of that will be possible now," Belron sighed.

"Why do you say that?"

"You clearly don't appreciate my work. Don't deny it—your acts of repulsion and disgust are just like everyone else who learned the specifics of the project. You've eliminated the criminals I hired to find units for my project and protect it from, well, people like you. Judging by the guns in your hands and the fact that you're pointing them at me, you won't let me go. Even if you were, I've invested everything I had in this installation. I don't have the credits or equipment to find a new base and start again. And I doubt anyone would fund my work in prison."

True on all counts.

Belron let out a deep sigh of regret. "Too bad. I was really looking forward to see how the network would perform with three units."

Then he pulled out a pistol from its holster at the small of his back, put it against the side of his head and blew his brains out.

Tali jumped in surprise. Geirk frowned, no doubt because he was hoping to do that himself.

"Alert: deadman switch activated. Self-destruct initiated."

"Help me."

Crap.