Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.
Note: A mission most written about and really done till death, seeing how many writers use it; and there's some dialogue from the game, again.
Note#2: English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.
*ch4.
"It shall forever be a question in my mind how they manage to know it is I even under all this armor," the commander tsked, red light flashing on her helmet before turning lightly towards one of her teammates. "Are you quite sure you wish to be here? There's no telling when the next time we'll stop in – for sake of argument let's call it 'civilized' space," Shepard asked artlessly discarding the heat sink from her guns.
Blue Suns mercenaries and combat drones littered the floor, walls and an occasional crate, trashed or otherwise. Considering the number of bodies surrounding them by this time it was a bit too late to ask him that question, and she likely knew it. Reading her otherwise impeccable stance he knew he was correct. There were names for people like Shepard – none which should be spoken in polite company and none which would pass his lips. This matter on its own, it bothered him very little. He had dealt with his own share of manipulative employers.
"I am certain Shepard."
"You know best, I am sure," she tilted her head and easily spun around, her attention now fully focused on more than one safe in the area. She even rubbed her hands before engaging the decrypting of codes which acted as a wall between her and something potentially useful.
"Plundering, commander?"
"All for a good cause, officer. Should you feel the law is served best thus, you can take me into custody later," Shepard chuckled gesturing with the hand holding a gun while the other she used to hack the terminals. This old prefab factory had more goodies packed between one crate and another than one was to imagine. "All in all, it is not all that hard imagining Harkin as an underground mockery of missing persons' center."
"I didn't think you've met him, commander?" Garrus turned his head slightly, reloading and switching between his weapons. Long-range rifle for a gun.
"Briefly, and it was a tale to involve a cesspool of life, words spoken in shadows, greedy, wandering fingers and blood curdled on sharp, cracked edges. Not worth mentioning really," but as she said it she grinned under her helmet. For all the slyness he thought he possessed, Harkin was unimaginably easy to deal with. At least Garrus will have little trouble extracting information from him.
Turning his head to the other companion who still had some issues understanding Shepard-speech Garrus helpfully translated, "In plane words, she went to speak with him in Chora's Den. He got too familiar. She broke his face against the table." Face immovable as always, Thane still allowed himself a slight questioning lift of his eyeridge. "Don't worry. If you stay on the ship long enough, you'll learn to sort out the bullshit from the point eventually."
"Is that even possible?" The drell rasped in question. Even if Shepard did make sense, more or less, most of the time, there were situations, word composition – like now – where he suspected his translator had short-circuited. In fact, he was nearly led to believe that a good number of words she used didn't even exist in his own native language. It was only as of late that he came to conclusion that there wasn't so much a compatibility problem between their languages but the way she would flip and play with hers. Butcher it almost, some would say.
"Some have managed. All I know is, I'm still learning," Garrus said, images of her remarkably simple conversation with Anderson flashing in his mind for a moment before focus on Harkin, and through him, Sidonis took over.
Credits safely stored Shepard gestured at the two to follow her further in the office. Garrus didn't need much inclination to continue with search.
"What the hell is Harkin up to?" He asked, himself mostly, head going left and right around the small space.
Shepard pushed the switch and a thick metallic shield rolled down to reveal another crate filled warehouse. "Ah, heavy machinery," she exclaimed as Garrus leaned over to peer further in the complex. "That should narrow down the choice of any potential opponents." In turn she looked at silently snarling turian, critical eyes hidden behind the helmet and measuring turian's stance. "You are like a loaded, malfunctioning gun, Garrus. Am I to expect you to blow up as well?"
"Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear. If so, he knows why we're here and I don't want him tipping Sidonis off," he responded tightly. She nodded at his reasoning, his posture emanating traces of coiled anger. Eyes once more focused on the crates littering the complex beyond the glass, at least there'll be cover to be had. Then, there, in the background something moved and all three through reflex alone took cover where they could. "Did you see that?"
Shepard cocked her head, "LOKIs."
"He's getting ready for us," he murmured.
"Of course he is," Shepard quipped and leaned against the metal wall. Red light of her helmet focused on turian kneeling behind the console. "But before we go in I would like to know if by the end of the day I'll have to clean the spongy grey mass off my armor should Harkin prove too tightlipped."
"He's a real criminal now," he rolled his right shoulder, singed and decrepit side of his armor looked like a macabre tattoo in the mix of red and white lights of the small office. "Working for the Blue Suns. I should just shoot him on sight. But I need him alive, so I won't do nay permanent damage. Just enough to loosen his tongue." There was something in his tone, something to complete his raptor-like appearance, which made her doubt his words.
Her eyes wandered off to drell, still in shadows on the opposite side of her. He returned her look motionless, perfectly poised to strike should situation call for it. Even if he were to have an opinion on the ongoing matter he would keep it to himself. He was naught but onlooker now, and a second gun to help. Jack or Grunt for instance, would certainly let their tongues wag. For a moment she contemplated the little things which made the contrast between two alien men, though both had all credentials necessary to perform a kill. She made it to the half of her list before her mind revolved back to the matter at hand. She could fool around later.
There was temptation to ask about his intentions regarding Sidonis' planned execution but the question would be redundant as Shepard was well aware. Instead, she held up both of her pistols. "Well then," she eagerly declared pressing another switch to open the door leading out, "let us be off. It is impolite to let the master of the house wait."
Sounds of working machinery filled the air, easily covering the footsteps and other movement from their opponents – mechanic or otherwise.
"Shepard," close to her ear EDI's methodical voice easily cut through, "I patched into warehouse scanners. The crates in the transport carriers overhead are rigged to explode when dropped."
She cast a glance above and then at her team, "I have a few ideas which benefit from incorporating that," she grinned. Barely in they were and immediately so hard pressed by the fire, a quick roll to cover and a count of targets was all they could do. Through her helmet's sensors she counted the number of people shooting at them. Predominantly drones, but there were more than a few Blue Suns as well. Harkin must either be sitting on a gold mine to pay them, or at least offers them his special service of disappearing with discount.
"On either side, keep them penned," she ordered calmly gesturing at the groups of mechs and mercenaries firing at them. Following orders, and having an idea what the commander was going on about, the two men immediately set about sniping out those who would peer over and expose themselves too much. The key was to press them back, or at least not let them scatter. Garrus, with his precise yet aggressive shots – most meant to disable and wound before aiming for the head; and Thane, who was snipping anything down with an efficiency of a mass effect powered lawnmower – a poor yet disturbingly accurate comparison.
With experience Shepard danced between enemy fire until she reached the cover between a set of crates with, to her mind, the best view. Peering over to see if her crew had accomplished the task, she counted some and guessed the position of others. Flipping back and ducking low, bracing her armored feet on the opposite crate behind which just a moment ago she was taking cover, the aim of her shotgun was now focused on the crates sliding above their heads.
"Do keep your heads low, gents," she ordered through the comm firing first three shots, with many more to follow. Her alien companions had but a fraction of a second of time before crates started falling down about them in loud explosion and with debris flying about like bullets, not picking and choosing between wounding and killing friend or foe.
Only the sturdiest of crates survived and but a few LOKI mechs were still moving, not to speak of their organic opponents. These were easily dealt with as the three walked out of their cover; Shepard most casual of them dusting debris of her shiny armor.
"Nice handiwork," Garrus praised deadpan eyeing the destruction left in her wake. It almost looked like something a raging krogan would leave behind.
"Flatterer," she crooned, lightly tapping his armor.
Pause and easy post-battle atmosphere cut rudely when Harkin's voice sounded through the PA system with all too recognizable, 'You're never getting in here Garrus!' It was followed with shockingly honest, "Oh, do shut up," aggravation coming form Shepard herself. Almost as a response, ahead of them platforms started rising, three or four, obscuring their way forward and halting their progress.
Between them Garrus sneered, revealing needle-like teeth, "Harkin's going to regret this. We'll have to go around."
Yes. Yes, they would.
But not Shepard.
Not taking into account his words she moved, blue light sparking in her eyes and around her limbs, as she propelled herself upwards towards the highest rising platform, racing easily as if she were jousting down the main lane. Above, her hands gripped the edge of a container, momentum propelling her forward and up – she flipped over and took cover behind it, making it seem a maneuver as easy as if she had done it once a day since she joined the Alliance.
"Show off," Garrus grunted lowering his rifle and shaking his head.
"I take it we should to go the long way around," Thane changed the heatsink, evenly observing his commander's escapades. Were this any other time in his life, particular the happier one, he might have been tempted to charge his employer extra just because of the lack of planning and unpredictability of the mission itself. It was not however; and those days were long gone.
"She didn't offer us a ride." Garrus gestured to a meandering path between crates, "This way."
And with that, both of them started their climb around.
Above, Shepard was having far too much fun for someone in her position to have. Quick glance and four shots later a couple of surrounding Blue Suns dropped in sizzles, sparks and blood. As the silence settled, even before her colleagues caught up, she stood, eyes and sensors equally scanning surroundings. Suddenly, another set of heavy machinery sounded from above and as her eyes followed the source she realized that her repertoire of enemies had been enlarged by two which could count for six.
One platform below she heard Garrus' 'Oh, crap. Two heavy mechs – incoming!' warning spark through the comm. Rapidly she went about switching to a more murderous version ammo, cryo, as her fingers reached for the shotgun and once more she hid herself.
"Gents, should you have some free time at your disposal," – a blast of rapid, drumbeating fire stifled her voice – "a lady requires some assistance regarding a mediocre tight spot up here!" She ducked in further as heavy gunshots ricochet just above her head and her hiding place. Shepard grunted ducking behind another heavy crate as the one behind her exploded. Whatever they were filled with did not make them sturdy, nor safe.
"Let's go!" Two men rushed across and up, between boxes, taking cover from two YMIR mechs. Shepard gave them cover, drawing the attention away and singling one out. Thane moved over to the right, lightly dodging with an occasional biotic blast to make the second follow him, while Garrus set about to weaken its shield.
As shots hummed around her, Shepard went through familiar strategy in her head. Heavy mechs, thick armor, sturdy shields, bucket load of ammo in reserve, twin automatic mass accelerator cannons and a rocket launcher. Slow and can easily be sent onto overload with precise shots to the head.
Tactics: keep them in close vicinity of each other, freezing one, and then overloading it would greatly weaken the other allowing for further dismantlement.
"Keep them closely corralled if you'd kindly," she said leaning over the box, shotgun posed and aiming at the head of one of killing machines. It took a clip but one succumbed. From both sides her companions laid heavy fire – more a distraction considering how armored they were.
"Shepard! The other's still advancing," she heard one of them call.
"Just a little more," she whispered ignoring any stray shots in her direction and maintaining a steady fire at the head of white statuesque mech. Sparks started around joints of its neck and head, light on its receptors flashing dangerously and ice melting from it.
"Take cover!" She ordered and a moment later a volatile explosion shattered through the hold. The second mech – kept closely to the first – was severely damaged now, stuttered a bit, targeting systems off as it sought them out. In its rumpled state it became an easy pray.
Shepard wasted no more ammo on it.
Standing up from her cover she looked over her armor with calculation. She had taken some damage, as she knew she would – being correct eighty-five percent of the time was proving to be a burden – and she sighed tiredly. This space station was proving to be more dangerous in regards to her health than a great deal of other places in the galaxy.
*/*/*/*/*
In the control room Harkin had himself efficiently backed into wall, so it was with no small surprise that at the sight of Shepard's red and grey armor he tried to flee. But whilst trying to escape Shepard – a foolish notion on its own – he collided with not so friendly disposed Garrus.
It was lights out for Fade that afternoon.
*/*/*/*/*
Orbital Lounge was not too far away, as nothing was on the space station, and most of the journey – Garrus' and not all too safe – was spent in silence. He somewhat sharply navigated them through the crowds and brought them to a parking overseeing a walkway below. Looking where they've landed Shepard distastefully and mournfully put two and two together and didn't like the four that game out at the end.
"Harkin's a bloody menace. You shouldn't have just let him go. He deserved to be punished," barely parking the vehicle he wasted little time to point out. He also refused to look at her and the faint blue of his scope reflected in the glass of door next to him.
In darkness of the shuttle Shepard tsked disapprovingly, "Such a selfish spoilsport you are Garrus. Good Captain Bailey will do a happy dance once he has him in the cell."
"A cell," he grunted glancing at her and she could feel the air vibrate from his voice, "You think that's enough?"
"Hardly matters. However, you shooting a man beaten down is not a characteristic of your personality I wanted to see." Her helmet was resting in her lap, her expression free for others to see range of emotions – and this time there was a hard edge to it. A seriousness which could almost be described as grave.
He looked away, "What do you want for me Shepard? What would you do if someone betrayed you?" He sounded tired and that tiredness angered her. A rare emotion.
"Do not act like a naive chick, Garrus. The list of people I'd delight in hurting is by far longer than the number of creatures you've killed in your life," even if the tone of her voice was light, the words were not and efficiently, it shut him up and made him think. Perhaps precisely because of her personality he might have expected her to be 'trigger-happy' with those she branded as her enemies. "This is not something missing from your life. It's not something you must do," she said quietly, her hand falling from her lap and almost reaching for him.
"Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if I don't? Nobody else knows what he's done. Nobody else cares." He shook his head, "I don't see any other options."
"Options always exist. Talking is an option."
"Talk all you want but it won't change my mind. I don't care what his reasons were. He screwed us. He deserves to die."
"No matter how you feel now or what you do now, this will not be of help to you or to them."
"I appreciate your concern but I'm not you." He ignored her words, pointing it out as if it were an insult. Perhaps it was now. Though Shepard had hard time identifying if he considered comparing himself to her an insult or the other way around.
"Not yet," she leaned back. "And I'd prefer if you didn't start sailing into these waters."
"Really? I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this. Why should he go on living while ten good men lie in unmarked graves?" There was sadness and anger in his voice – more anger than sadness – and speaking to him would not solve anything, she knew. "I'm sorry Shepard, words are not going to solve this problem."
"I need a set up." He looked around eyeing for a good spot. "I can get a clear shot from over there," he gestured at the shadowed spot.
Stubborn, she concluded. More thickheaded than an exuberant youth.
"Speak then," she snapped her fingers.
"Keep him talking and don't get in my way. When he's in my sights I'll let you know. Give me a signal so I know you're ready and I'll take the shot." She didn't respond. Didn't look at him. Shepard disagreed though she did not voice it. "You better go. He'll be here soon."
Doors of the shuttle opened and closed with a small quake and the turian moved away to place nicely concealed from lights and cameras, hurried and rigid steppes but Shepard paid him no heed. Instead her lips were set into a thin, rigid line – a stark contrast to her usually grinning facade. Silence settled for long enough to make the drell, who still sat behind, wonder until a definite sound of electrics flying and plastic and metal breaking cut through the air as easy as her fist did through the console. Unblinking and with a frown settled on her brow she pulled out her fist and switched to the driver's seat starting the shuttle. Her helmet, which gave off a red glow, was left to roll around as she directed it to the lower level.
As Shepard parked the vehicle was covered with blanket of silence. Shutting down the engine she leaned back, her eyes were unfocused as she looked at the people going back and forth across Orbital Lounge.
"I suppose apologies are in order," she said finally tilting her head slightly to the backseat and passenger sitting there. Material of her seat let out a groaning noise as she did so.
"Apologies? For what?" There was an honest questioning titter in his voice.
"Ah, besides being dragged all this way and no more indecent people to shoot at," her hand reached to her belt where her guns were, "ergo wasting your time, I'd have to say, for having to witness this spectacle." Her hand moved over to her back and took off her shotgun, her guns, and placed on them all on the seat next to her.
Thane watched her curiously, and her action of stripping herself of everything, excluding the armor itself, which in the eyes of others would clearly mark her as a dangerous individual. Weapons were usually a mark not only of someone deadly but well protected, as well. Shepard had always been an individual well protected; be it by guns she wore, skill she possessed or people she surrounded herself with. This evening she will be back to her wits alone.
"No apology is necessary, Shepard," she heard him say quietly from behind.
"Truly? That is good then, I suppose."
Finishing with the last piece she stepped out and he made a move to follow suit but she turned around gesturing him to stay behind in the shuttle, "Here your skills won't be necessary, Mr. Krios."
"You are unarmed Shepard," with a frown he noticed even if she was well aware.
"As is Sidonis," she replied waving her hand in dismissal. "This turian will cause me no harm, therefore any reason for your potential anxiety is nonexistent."
His inner eyelids moved over his eyes. If he were to tell it from a professional standpoint gained from many years of experience, it wasn't Sidonis who gave him cause for alarm where his commander's health was concerned. Garrus was teetering very close to the edge and, from what he had observed, Thane firmly believed that only years of respect towards Shepard had stopped him killing Harkin then and there while lying on the floor.
"Once all this is over, Mr. Krios," she started once more her voice professionalism pure, "if you'd please, bring Garrus back aboard the Normandy."
"Of course," he inclined his head slightly, not questioning why it were to be him and not her to do such.
"Also, should Miranda, if by any chance your race posses it, reach for your jugular regarding my whereabouts, do mention to her that the loft still requires extensive decorating."
Not that he had any idea what she was talking about but he nodded once more.
She looked up towards terrace where Garrus was preparing his sniper rifle and sighed. Shaking her head she turned and started down the lounge. He was about to return to that cab when he heard her add, "And please, in the name of all your gods, do not let him steer. There is significantly high chance he'll drive into something just to vent out his rage," before she disappeared into the crowd, direction where Sidonis – easy to spot being one of very few turians in the area – was sitting.
"Shepard, do you hear me?" Garrus' voice cracked in her ear making her grimace. With her back to him he could scarcely see it, though.
"Loud and clear." She took her hand off the radio and then added gruffly to her own piece of mind, "And regretting every minute of it."
*/*/*/*/*