Blueshift

Twenty minutes.

Nihlus was rarely, if ever, conflicted. He followed his instincts and did what he knew what best, and while it may have left his superiors unhappy, he was usually right.

But crouched in the catwalks outside Club Redshift, Nihlus was most certainly not following his instincts. His instincts had told him he should march down to the club, find Curt Weisman, and demand to know everything he knew about Terra Libera and the attack. Then hack their database, find out what Weisman hadn't told him, and report the group to the local authorities for good measure. That was what his instincts told him to do. But his human had told him not to.

Nineteen minutes.

Which shouldn't have mattered, but it did. He shouldn't have cared, but he did. He'd been set to lock her in the bathroom and bar the door with her cot (at least it would be good for something) when he'd seen her crestfallen face.

Nihlus shifted, resting his sniper against the railing. You keep your personal life personal, or things get complicated. He'd let it get personal, which meant it got complicated.

Eighteen minutes.

At least this proved that, however he tried to deny it, this was most certainly not a one-night stand. And however much it bothered him, he felt comfortable with her. More than comfortable. Which was unfortunate, since her old gang could choose any of the twenty minutes he spent doing nothing to turn on her.

Seventeen minutes.

Saren had once told him about a mission on Camela. The Council had ordered him to work with a human, and the human had let his personal feelings get in the way. An eezo refinery had held both their objectives, and the human's mate. The human had gone after his mate, and the entire refinery had been destroyed as a result.

"All for a woman?" Nihlus had scoffed in disbelief.

"What more can you expect, from a human?" Saren raised his hand for another drink, and a waitress sauntered over. It was the first time Nihlus had ever been to Palaven, and Saren had decided to treat him to drinks for it.

"He shouldn't have let his emotions get in the way," Nihlus continued, ignoring the pointed racism in Saren's rhetorical. "One life for a thousand is a small price to pay." He finished his drink and eyed the waitress. Something seemed off about her…

"That's the math," Saren nodded, swirling his drink, "I'm glad you can do it." He glanced over his shoulder at the waitress and twitched his head. Her eyes lit up and she nodded, vanishing into the backroom and remerging in casual clothes. "Head back to the room and don't wait up. We'll meet with the Cabal team in the morning."

Nihlus had ended up following his instincts, which told him to follow Saren. When Saren and his date were ambushed, he hadn't regretted doing so. The fight ended with Saren explaining he knew about the ambush, and had been tailing the waitress who was a member of an Anti-Council terrorist group. It was the first, and so far only, time he'd regretted following his instincts.

"I told you to go back to the room." Saren ended his lecture with. Nihlus felt curiously light-headed, and he finally realized why the waitress had seemed off. Saren hadn't had any of the drinks she'd brought them. "You have good instincts little brother," Saren noted, as Nihlus's vision went hazy. "I'm glad you trust them." He caught Nihlus just as he was about to pass out from whatever drug he'd been slipped. "But before your instincts, you need to trust me."

Sixteen minutes.

Trust the human and his emotions, and wait out the next fifteen minutes. Trust his instincts and his training, and go in now. In all likelihood, he'd just end up arguing with himself until time made the decision for him. He wasn't even aware he was growling until someone commented on it beneath him.

"You hear something?" The voice -male, human - asked his companion.

"I hear you bitching," Snapped the second voice. "What is it this time?" Nihlus took stock of the situation. Two men with hair dyed a garish red were dragging a body between them towards the club. It must have been a light load, female, from the time they were making.

"Just thought- nevermind." He shook his head and shifted the weight of the woman. She was covered in scarves and wraps, all a cheerful yellow. Her head lulled and a muffled groan reached him.

"Keelah…" She was a quarian.

"Oh look, our gypsy princess is awake." The second man chuckled.

First panicked, "She wasn't supposed to wake up until we got back to the club,"

"Who cares?" He shrugged, "Everest won't mind if she's a little used." The quarian finally regained consciousness, and shoved away from both men. She stumbled forward a few feet, clutching her head with one hand and supporting herself against the wall with the other.

"You're sick," The first man shook his head, but made no move to intervene. "She's an alien."

Fifteen minutes.

"Where am I?" The quarian muttered, turning to press her back protectively against the wall. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ken," The second man announced with nonchalant cheer, "This is Dan," He waved at his comrade. "And you, are in for a treat."

"I'm not in for anything." The woman snapped. Nihlus knew all quarians had six months of training before leaving for their pilgrimage, so in theory, she should have been able to take care of herself. Should have been able to stop what turians considered the worst crime any sentient being could commit. "I'm leaving, get out of my way." In theory.

"What, no kiss goodbye?" Ken snorted, blocking her path away from the club's back entrance. The woman made an effort to shove past him, and he threw her back against the wall, reaching for the clasp to her mask. "Come on, just one."

"Bosh'tet," The quarian smacked his hand away, "I take my mask off and I could die. Now leave me alone, play games with someone else."

Nihlus had his sniper rifle trained on the back of the human's head. It would have been an easy kill, but his talon hovered over the trigger. They were his human's old gang, his human's old friends…

Ken laughed, oblivious to the large, armored turian on the catwalks, and made another move for the quarian. "That's what happens when you live your life inside a condom, sweetheart," A glint of silver flashed as he drew a knife from the back of his belt. "You get screwed."

And they weren't worth saving.

Fourteen minutes.

His shot blew the human's head from his shoulders and splattered the quarian with blood and bone. She screamed, and ran in the opposite direction with her hands covering her head. The other human dove for the club, bellowing warnings to his gang, and firing blindly with his sidearm into the hallway.

Times up.