Mass Effect: A Few Good Soldiers
Chapter 2: The Citadel
As Saren's massive, squid-like dreadnought flew through the vastness of interstellar space, the Rogue Spectre himself sat on the dreadnought's bridge with his head held in the palm of his artificial geth arm. His real hand still wouldn't stop shaking. He was furious with himself, with the geth, and with the humans. He hadn't wanted to reveal himself so early in the game. In fact, he hadn't wanted to reveal himself until it was far too late for anyone to do anything to stop him.
"We identified the ship that launched the strike team at Eden Prime," a cool cultured female voice said from behind him. "The Normandy. A human Alliance vessel."
"And the Beacon?" he growled angrily, already feeling he knew the answer.
The Asari Matriarch Benezia stood with her arms held behind her back. "Destroyed, though one of the humans may have used it."
Saren slammed his real hand down against his arm rest and roared angrily. A red haze fell over his eyes as he smashed and threw chairs and equipment. Stalking up to Benezia he grabbed her face in his hands, hands that could have crushed her head like an overripe melon. The Asari Matriarch stood calmly, not a trace of fear in her eyes or her stance. "The human must be eliminated," he said softly, before letting her go.
XXX
The first thing she was aware of was blinding pain. "Urrrghh," Lieutenant Commander Shepard groaned as she brought her hands up to her forehead. The last time she felt this wasted was after she graduated from the N7 academy and spent the entire night binge drinking with her classmates in celebration. No… scratch that. She hurt more now.
The first thing she heard was a male voice shouting, "Doctor? Doctor Chakwas? I think she's waking up." It took her addled brain a few seconds to recognize the voice as belonging to Lt. Alenko.
Slowly using her abdominal muscles, she pulled herself up. Pulling her legs halfway up, she rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "Not so loud Lieutenant," she groaned. Suddenly an image flashed through her mind of the enormous ship charging straight at her.
"You had us worried there, Commander," Dr. Chakwas said, consulting a datapad before setting it down on a table. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit doc," she answered truthfully, rubbing her fingers in little circles on her forehead. If it worked with hangovers, it might work here. "What happened?" she finally asked.
"We think it was the Beacon," Chakwas said, "though we don't know exactly what happened to you."
Alenko finally leaned forward from his position up against the back wall. "It's my fault, Commander. I must have triggered some kind of defensive mechanism when I approached it. You had to push me out of the way." He paused, before adding, "Thanks for that."
"Do me a favor, Lieutenant," she said, catching the man's eyes. "Stay away from glowing objects."
"Yes ma'am," Alenko said, with the kind of brittle smile that meant he didn't know if she was joking or was serious.
Shepard looked up and saw he was still there. Taking a deep breath she said, "You're dismissed." He nodded, and as he turned to leave she spoke. "Thanks for your concern, Alenko."
"You're welcome, ma'am," he said, tossing her a slight smile. As the door to the med-bay slid open it revealed Captain Anderson. He entered after exchanging brief pleasantries with Alenko.
"Give us the room," the Captain ordered, and when Chakwas and the nurse had left he turned. "How are you holding up, Shepard?" he asked, and though he was concerned for her Shepard could sense that this was far from the point of his visit.
She smiled one of her rare smiles. "Still alive and kicking." Then her smiled faded as she remembered what had happened back on the planet. "Sir, this op was FUBAR from the start," she said, shaking her head. "The geth haven't been out of the Veil for two centuries, and have brutally murdered anyone who entered their territory. Now they're all of a sudden attacking human colonies and working for a Turian Spectre?"
"This looks bad, Shepard," the Captain said as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Nihlus is dead. The Beacon is destroyed, and the geth are invading. The Council's gonna want answers."
"There's nothing I could have done, sir," she said, hating how much it sounded like an excuse even to her own ears. "We did save the colony though."
"That you did," he said, nodding. "And I'll stand by you and your report one hundred percent, but that's not why I'm here."
Shepard's eyes narrowed, "Let me guess… Saren," she hazarded. There'd always been rumors floating around the N7 program that Anderson had been the first human Spectre candidate, but something happened between him and Saren and he'd been kicked out of the program. Shepard didn't know if that was true or just a rumor. Either way, it sure seemed like there was bad blood between the two after the way his face darkened.
"You know who Saren is… correct?" he asked, and Shepard nodded. Everyone knew who Saren, was if only by reputation. "Well then you know what he's capable of, and if he IS working with the geth that means he gone rogue."
She'd been worrying about that too. A rogue human-hating Spectre sounded like a whole hell of a lot of problems for everyone involved, but - his hatred for humanity aside - he had come to Eden Prime for something other than revenge. "He was after the Beacon, Captain ."
Anderson nodded. "You're right about that. And worse, he's somehow allied himself with the geth," he said, standing up and starting to pace. "I don't know how or why, but whatever he's planning can't be good." He paused, staring at her. "You were there when the Beacon self-destructed. Did you see something… anything that might give us a clue as to why Saren was after it?"
"This is gonna sound… uhh, crazy," she said, and started running her fingers through her blonde hair. "When the Beacon grabbed me," she started to explain, "there were… images… some kind of vision or something," she finished exasperated.
"A vision," he said looking puzzled. "Of what?"
"Death," Shepard offered simply. "Of synthetics, geth possibly, slaughtering people." She shrugged, unsure of what exactly it was that she saw.
Anderson mused aloud, "The Council is going to want to know what happened."
"And tell them what?" she asked with a sarcastic tone. "Tell'em I hit my head and had a bad dream?"
"We have no idea what kind of information the Beacon might've held," Anderson argued. "Lost Prothean technology, blueprints for some ancient WMD? We have no idea, Shepard. Whatever it was, Saren wanted it bad enough to attack one of our colonies." The Captain's voice and eyes went deadly cold, reminding Shepard that he'd been one of the first N7s. "I know Saren. I know his reputation, his politics. He believes humans are a blight on the galaxy." Smashing his right fist into the palm of his left hand, he continued, "The attack on Eden Prime was an attack of war! With an army of geth at his command he, won't stop until humanity is wiped from the face of the galaxy."
Somehow, as horrible as that thought was, she didn't think Saren's plans were as simple as that. Plus, any open attack on humanity by Saren and the geth would result in a massive war between the Council races and the geth. As much as Saren hated humanity, she doubted he would start a war in which millions of his own people would die.
"I don't suppose we could handle him ourselves," Shepard suggested, and by 'we' she meant N7 commandos and by handle she meant 'kill.'
Anderson chuckled slightly as he understood what she meant, "We can't do that Shepard. If the Council ever found out we assassinated one of their Spectres…," he trailed off. "Humanity would have so many sanctions placed on us, it would be centuries before we got out of the dog house."
"I do covert," she responded, putting the right touch of righteous indignation in her tone. She did agree with him that if they were discovered they'd be in deep shit, but she thought that if ordered she could pull it off.
"I know," he said with a raised eyebrow. "I've read your jacket Shepard, but still we need the Council's support on this one."
"Aye, Captain."
"Now," he said, clapping her on the shoulder, "We're approaching the Citadel, so you might want change into your class A's to meet the ambassador and the Council."
XXX
"You wanted to see me?" Detective Garrus Vakarian said, standing before the Executor of Citadel Security. Garrus was a Turian from their homeworld of Palaven, and as such had blue facial markings to represent his home. A veteran officer, he had seen a lot in his service but had never before been called to meet one-on-one with the Executor.
"Detective Vakarian," the Executor, a Turian named Pallian, rumbled. "What I'm about to say will not leave this room…understood?"
"Yes, sir," Garrus said, hiding his curiosity beneath a mask of stoicism. At least he wasn't here to get reprimanded for his 'unorthodox' ways. One, Pallian wouldn't have bothered doing it himself and two, he wouldn't have sworn him to secrecy.
"We have a situation," the C-Sec chief said, crossing his taloned fingers in front of him. "Fourteen hours ago, the human colony of Eden Prime was attacked by geth."
That got his unbridled attention, but what did it have to do with him? He was a C-Sec detective, not a Spectre. "What does this have to do with me?"
Pallian actually looked pained as he said, "Despite your record for insubordination, you are the best detective on the force and you'll be needed. You see," he paused, a fire entering his eyes, "the humans' claim the attack was led by Saren Arterius. I for one believe them. The bastard is without honor."
Garrus blinked as he processed the information. Unlike most Turians, he didn't despise most Spectres because of their actions. In fact he agreed that sometimes rules needed to be broken for the greater good. It was something that most Turians just didn't understand, but Saren… Saren was a monster, and even he saw that. "You want me to open an investigation into him?"
The C-Sec chief nodded. "I don't have to tell you how difficult this is going to be… investigating a Spectre, and you're on the clock Garrus. The Council doesn't want to believe that their favorite has gone rogue."
"I understand, sir. How long do I have?" Garrus said as he rapidly went through a mental list of every source, contact and informant he had, wondering if any of them could be of any use.
"A standard week," Pallian said deadpan.
Garrus felt his mandibles flare in shock and surprise, "A week!" he exclaimed, "Sir, that's…"
The Executor held his right hand up, signaling him to stop. "I know… still, that was the deadline the Council gave us."
XXX
Shepard stared out the window of Ambassador Udina's office as the Ambassador argued with the Council. The Special Forces Operator in her thought this was a damn silly spot for an Ambassador to work because of the large open air vista. A rookie sniper could drop the Ambassador like a deer. That said, there wasn't much crime on the Presidium, and given the amount of security they had to go through to get in here she doubted that even SHE could have smuggled a weapon inside.
Digging her right index finger beneath the collar of her dress uniform, she tugged on it a bit, giving her a little more breathing room. She hated wearing her dress blues and tried to avoid it whenever possible. It wasn't that she didn't have pride in what it stood for; it was they were so damn uncomfortable.
"This is an outrage," Udina growled at the holographic Councilors. "The Council would act if the geth attacked a Turian colony." Shepard winced as he started to talk. She was no diplomat but yelling at them didn't seem like the wisest way to go about things.
"The Turians don't found colonies on the borders of the Terminus Systems… Ambassador," the Salarian Councilor stated dryly.
"Humanity was well aware of the risks when you went into the Traverse," the Asari Councilor added, almost sounding bored.
Glancing at Anderson with an 'I told you so' look, her 'assassinate Saren' idea was sounding better and better by the minute. The way this was going, they'd be lucky to even get a C-Sec investigation.
"What about Saren?" Udina shouted shaking his fist at the Council. "You can't just ignore a rogue Spectre. I demand action!" There's the shouting again, Shepard thought, shaking her head.
"You don't get to make demands of this Council," the Turian Councilor all but snarled.
"Citadel Security is investigating your claims against Agent Saren," the Asari said stressing the Spectre's title. "We will discuss the C-Sec findings at the hearing. Not before." Then the three holograms dissolved.
Udina sighed angrily before turning to Captain Anderson. "I see you've brought Commander Shepard with you, Captain," he said, before turning to look at her.
"Ambassador," Shepard said with a polite nod of her head
"I have your mission reports," he said before raising his eyebrow. "I assume it's accurate?" he questioned.
It was a fair question and Shepard wasn't offended in the least. When N7s filled mission reports - assuming the mission was one that reports were to be filed on - they were rarely fully forthcoming. Joint Special Operations Command knew that the N7s did most of the wetwork, and turned a blind eye as long as what the N7s did didn't make headlines or reach the ears of the Military Oversight Sub-Committee. Otherwise, you could expect a blindfold and a cigarette. Everyone who joined was made aware of that.
"They're one-hundred percent accurate… sir," she added on almost as an afterthought. She still wasn't all that use to dealing with civilian brass… were they still called brass if they were civilians?
"Sounds like you got the Council to give us an audience," Anderson said quickly, and Shepard had to suppress a smile. He had been an N7 once upon a time and hadn't had the opportunity to read her report, so he didn't know if she was lying.
Udina scoffed, "They weren't happy about it. Saren's their top agent and they don't like him being accused of treason."
"Those bastards are gonna have to face the music sooner or later," she said, crossing her arms, "or they'll wake up one day and find the geth goose-stepping through the Citadel. I say we deal with him ourselves if they won't." As soon as she said it, another thought passed through her mind… did the geth goose-step?
Udina actually snorted in a brief moment of laughter before his semi-permanent scowl came back. "Calm down Commander, Anderson told me of your little idea and I'll have none of that. You've already done enough to jeopardize your candidacy for the Spectres." Pointing his index finger at her he continued, his tone taking a slightly darker edge. "The mission to Eden Prime was a chance to prove you could get the job done. Instead, Nihlus winds up dead and the Beacon was destroyed!"
"Wait just a god-damned minute," Shepard exclaimed furious and got right up in his face. "That wasn't my fault! That mission was supposed to be a simple pickup, not a snatch and grab of a five-ton piece of stone. Hell," she shouted, throwing her arms up while walking away only to turn back to face him, "I didn't even know what was going on 'til we were over the damn planet. IF I had been informed earlier I could have planned contingencies, not to mention had a real team - not a biotic boy scout and an FNG!"
She felt her anger fade and straightened to attention, awaiting a reprimand. She was still pissed. Not because of the fact that she may have jeopardized her Spectre Candidacy - she still didn't want the job - but because she hated the idea of failing. As a famous twentieth century general once said, 'the very idea of losing is hateful to Americans.'
Again to her amazement Udina chuckled. "Dammit Shepard, I like you," he said grudgingly, before admitting, "you're right, Commander. Let's hope the C-Sec investigation turns up something useful, otherwise the Council might use this as an excuse to keep you out of the Spectres." The Ambassador sighed. "The investigation is going to take some time, so I suggest you and your crew get some shore leave. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
XXX
6 days 16 Hours later
Garrus Vakarian was getting ready to bash his own skull in with a blunt object. During the last week he must have had only four or five hours of sleep max and was running on caffeine and power drinks. In the course of his investigation he'd called in every favor he had, and a few he didn't. Still, it got him nowhere. Worst of all, he had the feeling that some of the people may have known something, but were too scared to talk. Honestly, who could blame them?
Once, after a Batarian assassin tried to kill him, Saren hunted down the Batarian's family, friends and associates. He systematically killed them all, before finally killing the assassin himself by having him skinned alive and his carcass hung from the Afterlife sign on Omega. Needless to say, it was a memory that lingered in peoples' minds. Crossing Saren Arterius was hazardous to one's health.
Garrus had even tried to make contact with the Shadow Broker through Barla Von, a rumored contact for the mysterious information broker. The Volus had turned Garrus away, saying that the broker wouldn't turn on one of his most valuable customers.
It greatly angered him that all that work had been for nothing. He still was convinced Saren was a traitor, but he couldn't find anything to prove it to the Council. Arriving at his destination in Bachjret Ward, Garrus parked his aircar and got out. This was the closest ward to the Alliance Fleet moorings, and where one of his contacts had last seen the woman he was now searching for..
Walking through the section of the ward that the humans had come to call New New York - must have been a cultural joke of some sort because he didn't understand it - he finally came to the place he was looking for. "O'Malley's Genuine Irish Pub," the sign read.
"Don't see many of your kind here," the pub's bald and massive bouncer said, holding out his hand to stop him from entering. "Whattayah want, Turian?"
Pulling his C-Sec badge from beneath his shirt and resting the other hand on the butt of his sidearm, Garrus straightened up to look as intimating as possible. "I'm looking for someone."
"Don't know nothing," the man said quickly.
"Easy, I'm not here to arrest anyone," he said in what he hoped was a placating tone. He didn't spend much time around humans and didn't know a whole lot of their customs or body language. "I'm looking for a human woman. About one-point eight meters, blonde hair, green eyes; she's Alliance Navy, goes by the name Shepard."
The man's head bobbed. "I know who you're looking for, inside," he said jerking his thumb towards the door.
"Thank you," Garrus said, and pushed his way into the pub. He was greatly surprised by the interior of the establishment. The walls were covered with finished wood, and the bar was a single piece of mahogany; the owner must have gone through a lot of work to make this look like an old earth bar.
As he entered, his senses were assaulted by the stale smell of smoke, the smell of whiskey, and other strange intoxicants. Turians had a heightened sense of smell left over from their predatory ancestry, and Garrus had to flare his nostrils several times to get the smell out.
Glancing around the pub, he finally found someone who fit the description of Commander Shepard. The blonde haired woman was sitting at the bar wearing a leather jacket and faded blue jeans, with a glass full of an amber liquid in her right hand. Gathering his courage Garrus made his way over and sat on the stool next to her. Garrus hoped the Commander wasn't one of those humans who hated Turians over the Relay 314 Incident. Even though the war was nearly thirty years over some humans - and Turians - still held grudges.
She looked at him and one of her eyebrows rose up. "Can I help you?"
Garrus cleared his throat. "Commander Shepard?" he questioned, making sure he had the right human. She nodded and he held out his hand in a human gesture he'd come to know. "I'm Garrus Vakarian. I'm the head detective investigating Saren."
Suddenly her green eyes lit up before quickly dying out. Switching her glass to her other hand she shook his. "Somehow I doubt you came all the way out here to tell me good news," she said, and took a swig from her glass.
Garrus rapped his talons on the bar counter and sighed, "You're right, Commander."
The Commander raised her hand. "It's just Shepard," she said before taking another sip from her glass. The amber liquid disappeared down her throat. "Kara to my friends." She paused before the right side of her lip twitched upward. "Or rather, it would be if I had any."
Garrus was shocked by the admission. "Shepard then," he repeated. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't find anything," he said, running his hand over his head and fringe, "but Saren's a Spectre and everything he touches is classified. Plus, anyone who might know anything is too afraid to talk."
"Figures," Shepard scoffed, signaling the barkeep to refill her glass. "After the Batarian incident, who would?"
"I know he's guilty. I just know it," Garrus said, smashing his left hand into the palm of his right. He was still pissed that he hadn't found anything. "I'm sorry Com-," he paused, before correcting himself. "Shepard."
XXX
Kara Shepard had only been to O'Malley's a couple times before with her old N7 team, when the fleet group they were attached to came into dock. One of her former squadmates had frequented the place whenever he was on the Citadel, and had brought the team along one time.
After a few days of sitting around on the Normandy and the embassy with nothing to do, she had been ready to go bat-shit crazy. She was a woman of action, and long periods with nothing to do drove her crazy. It was enough… had been enough to drive her to drink.
Wincing as the scotch burned down her throat, she said, "I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Saren wouldn't be a Spectre if it was that easy to beat him." She paused. "Order a drink, Detective Vakarian." she caught the eye of the bar keep, who constantly seemed to be cleaning glasses. "Put it on my tab."
"It's Garrus," he said and ordered a drink.
"Garrus," she said to the blue face Turian, "thanks for the info." When he didn't move after finishing his drink she asked, "Did you want something?" She studied Garrus's face carefully. She wasn't all that good at reading Turians, but the look on his face said he wanted to talk to her about something… and unless she was off it was important.
The Turian looked uncomfortable and quickly downed another drink. "I want to join up with you, Shepard. You're going to take down Saren and I want to be there."
Shepard sighed, running her hand through her golden hair. "I appreciate the sentiment and confidence Garrus, but it doesn't look like we're going to be able to do anything if the Council doesn't believe us."
"You're not giving up already…are you, Shepard?" the Turian challenged.
She smiled slightly. She was starting to like this Turian. "Of course not," she said back, "I'm just not sure what to do next. I have a meeting with the Council tomorrow so I'll see how that goes."
"There's evidence out there, I know," Garrus said hotly, "we just have to uncover it." He paused for a second. "You also don't have to worry about me holding my own. I was a scout sniper in the Turian army with a recon unit, and a team commander for a Special Response team here on the Citadel."
"Impressive," Shepard said, and she meant it. Turian scout snipers were sneaky sons of bitches, and had wreaked havoc during the First Contact. Many an Alliance officer had fallen to deadly accurate fire of Turian snipers. During the liberation of Shanxi, the army had been forced to use tanks and ground attack aircraft to kill the bastards. Plus, he'd been on C-Sec's Special Response Team, the equivalent of human SWAT teams. They were reputed to be one of the best paramilitary police teams in the galaxy.
"Though," she continued curiously, "isn't detective a step down from team leader?"
Garrus chuckled while nodding his head. "Wasn't exactly my choice," he said cryptically.
Shifting on her stool so her left elbow was on the bar and her head resting on her left hand she faced him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The Turian grumbled. "I was on a hostage rescue mission," he said taking a brief sip of his drink. "I knew the situation was bad. The terrorists had already killed one hostage and were threatening to kill more. Command ordered me to wait, but I knew if I did then they'd only kill more."
Shepard grimaced, and this time not from the scotch. That was why she never like working with civilians; they complicated everything. That was also why she had a lot of respect for SWAT teams and their equivalents. Anyone who could storm a room full of people and not shoot until you were 100% sure you were going to hit a bad guy had balls. "What happened?"
"I went in anyway," he hissed. "Wiped out the terrorists and saved all the hostages." Then a far off look entered his eyes. "The executor and the section chief were pissed. They called it 'insubordination' and 'unnecessary risk of life.' However, I'd been successful, so they couldn't just kick me off the force. So, they transferred me off the Special Response Team."
"Beside," he continued, "you might need a good cop to track Saren down."
Raising her glass she agreed. "Alright, welcome to the team," Shepard said as she drained her glass. "Meet me at the human embassy at 1530. That should be about an hour after my meeting with the Council." The N7 Commander rose, straightening her jacket as she did. "I'll see you there."
XXX
Saran Arterius paced inside his quarters on his flagship. He had received summons from the Council nearly a week ago, to answer to human charges that he had led the geth in an attack against Eden Prime. He'd pleaded that he was on an important mission and couldn't physically return to the Citadel, but agreed to appear by hologram.
He'd dodged the proverbial bullet with that one. There was no way he could have hidden the cybernetic upgrades he had received in person, but he could easily doctor a hologram so he appeared normal. Picking up a metal chair, he slammed it into wall. The chair dented and deformed as it struck the wall, and Saren picked it up and hurled it against the far wall as he roared. Everything had been going so smoothly until Nihlus, Captain Anderson, and Lieutenant Commander Shepard came along and interfered.
"Anderson," Saren roared. He'd thought he'd seen the last of that human when he sabotaged the man's mission to keep him out of the Spectres. However, it hadn't been Anderson who had nearly ruined his plans on Eden Prime. It had been the female who'd lead the ground team. Heading to his personal terminal he brought up Nihlus's files.
Ironically, when Nihlus died, his personal files had come into his possession and would prove most helpful in learning about his new opponents. He started searching through the records looking for one in particular. When he found the one he was looking for, he would have smiled if he was capable of it. Quickly typing several keys he caused a holographic screen to appear and on the page was written:
TOP SECRET
Alliance Military Personal File
Lieutenant Commander Kathryn Shepard
As he quickly skimmed the file he purred in pleasure. Everything he'd ever want to know about her was here; her personal history, military jacket, psychological evaluations and more. She was what the humans called a military brat with two military parents. Her father had been killed in the Relay 314 Incident on Shanxi before she had even been born. Saren paused empathetically for a moment when he read that. He'd lost his only brother there as well, but the feeling passed almost as soon has it came. He then felt a feeling of disgust that he could empathize with a filthy human.
He read on. Not surprisingly, she had joined the Alliance Navy herself, attending the Britannia Royal Naval College and graduating in the top of her class. She spent the next two years on the Mars Military Training Reservation, more commonly known as Hades, training to be an N7 officer. She graduated second in her class and was promptly assigned to a field unit.
Most of her missions for the Alliance were classified and not even a Spectre could get those files. There were a few he recognized by reputation, though; Torfan was certainly one of those. He'd read intelligence briefs on the Alliance retaliatory strike on Torfan, but he'd never actually known the name of the Spec Ops Commander who lead the attack.
Finding another chair, Saren sat to study the files he had been given. Long ago he had learned how powerful information was, and he wasn't going to give up any advantage he had.
XXX
Shepard followed Anderson from the embassy towards the enormous spire that rose up from the Presidium. Most people merely thought of the Citadel tower as the home of the Council, when instead it housed the bureaucratic heart of Citadel Space and served as the office of the common bureaucrats who kept the galaxy running.
Not that this elevator would take them to any of those levels. This lift took people from the Presidium, assuming they managed to get past the security checkpoint, straight to the Council Chambers. Shepard felt her jaw drop as she stepped from the lift. The walkway was framed with cherry trees, and waterfalls stood proudly at the back of the chamber.
People dotted the chamber. Some were diplomats and ambassadors waiting to meet with the Council or their flunkies. One, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, was an Alliance Rear Admiral arguing with a Council representative.
They made their way up the rising stairs, and as they did Shepard noticed something peculiar about the layout of the chamber. The elevated positions, the clear lines of fire, and the availability of cover the higher you advanced all pointed that whoever created this chamber had tried to make this area as defensible as possible.
Finally they reached the top and she, the Ambassador, and the Captain stood up on a catwalk over an atrium looking at the three Councilors and a huge holographic avatar of Saren. Shepard felt her blood run cold as she saw the rogue Spectre standing arrogantly, his arms folded across his chest.
"The geth attack is a matter of concern," she heard a voice echo from above her as she ascended the stairs. It was a voice she quickly recognized as belonging to the Asari Councilor. "But there is nothing to indicate that Saren was involved."
"The C-Sec investigation hasn't discovered any evidence to support your charge of treason," the Turian Councilor added sounding angry with them for wasting his and the Council's time. Shepard felt her lip twitch at his remark. Garrus had told her as much and she wasn't quite sure what chance they had of convincing the Council of Saren's guilt.
"An eyewitness saw him kill Nihlus in cold blood," the ambassador countered. Again Shepard felt her lip twitch. The dockworker had been their only actual witness to Saren's actions. He'd been taken up on the carrier Charlemagne, which had arrived at the head of the Fifth Fleet, for transfer to the Citadel where he could testify.
"An eyewitness you have failed to produce," the Salarian said coldly. The Alliance hadn't produced the witness because he was dead. The MP's had found the man in his quarters having presumably hung himself. The ship's doctor had ruled the death a suicide by Shepard wasn't so sure; it was far too coincidental.
"I've read these… accusations," Saren said the last word dripping distastefully off his tongue, "and I resent them." He added quickly and forcefully, "Nihlus was a friend and a fellow Spectre."
"That only let you get the drop on him!" Anderson shouted back, angry.
Shepard stared up at Saren, trying to get a feel for the old Spectre. Turians were hard to read and the fact that he was communicating via hologram didn't help either, but she would of sworn she saw amusement flash over his face. "Captain Anderson, why does it always seem you're involved when humanity makes false charges against me?"
So apparently the rumors were true, Shepard mused, looking back at the captain. Saren and he apparently DID have a past. Shepard felt a brief flash of annoyance jolt through her. That outburst was not going to help them one bit. Saren was obviously going to try to spin this as a private vendetta, and Anderson was only playing into his hands. Saren's gaze shifted to her and his mandibles twitched ever so slightly; she was going to have to ask Garrus about Turian body language.
"And this must be your protégé," Saren said mockingly, pointig a clawed hand at her. "The one who let the Beacon be destroyed."
Shepard raised an eyebrow. "That mission was classified top secret," she said in a matter of fact tone, crossing her arms across her chest. "How'd you know about it?" She doubted an agent of Saren's experience would make such a careless mistake as mentioning something he wasn't supposed to know about.
"As Nihlus's mentor," the Spectre started, "his files reverted to me upon his untimely demise. I read your report. I wasn't impressed, Commander." His mandibles twitched again. "But what can you expect… from a human." He spoke the last word with the same disgust you'd use when talking about vorcha.
"I think we can conduct this meeting without insults," she said in an overly civil tone, and felt her mouth twitch up in a smile as anger flashed over his face.
"Your species needs to learn its place, Shepard," Saren snarled. "You're not ready to join the Council. You're not even ready to join the Spectres."
"He has no right to say that," Udina interrupted hastily, no doubt seeing years of work going up in flames. "That's not his decision."
Fortunately for the Ambassador, the Asari councilor agreed. "Shepard's admission into the Spectres is not the purpose of this meeting."
"This meeting has no purpose," the Spectre snarled. "The humans are wasting your time and mine."
The Councilors glanced at one another before slowly shaking their heads and then the Asari spoke. "The Council has heard no evidence of any connection between Saren and the geth. Ambassador, your petition to have Saren discharged from the office of the Special Tactics of Reconnaissance is denied."
Shepard shifted on her feet. Walking in here she hadn't expected to hear a different verdict, but even knowing the odds she still hated to lose. Saren, however, couldn't help but twist the dagger a little deeper. "I'm glad justice was served."
"This meeting is dismissed."
Shepard watched as the Council turned and left quietly, talking amongst themselves as they did. Saren's avatar gave one last triumphant glare before it dissolved. Shepard balled her hands together so hard that the bones in her hand ached. She HATED losing.
"It was a mistake bringing you, Captain," Udina said, tiredly running his hands through his receding hairline. "You and Saren have too much history. It made the Council question our motives."
"I know Saren," Anderson said vehemently. "He's working with the geth for one reason," he said, holding up a corresponding finger. "To exterminate the entire human race. Every colony we have is at risk. Every world we control is in danger. Even Earth isn't safe."
"My suggestion's still open," Shepard said, only half joking.
"No," Udina said firmly. "We need to do this legally. We need something to expose him as a traitor and a murderer."
"Detective Vakarian offered his help," Shepard spoke up. "He said he'd keep looking for any possible leads. He should be waiting for us back at the embassy."
"Do you trust him?" Udina questioned. "This… Turian?"
Shepard mulled over the question for several seconds before answering. "I wouldn't say I trust him. He hasn't done anything to earn it yet, but I believe he wants the same thing as us," and by that, she meant bringing down Saren.
XXX
Garrus Vakarian was at the human embassy, periodically checking his omni-tool for the time. He had gotten in with only a brief check with the ambassador's secretary, and now waited for the Commander and Ambassador to return.
Against all odds he had new information from one of his confidential informants - a doctor who ran a free clinic in one of the worse sections of the Wards - about Saren. Dr. Michel had been an informant for him ever since she opened her clinic.
The clinic was used by all kinds of criminals and lowlifes in addition to the regular people. As long as Dr. Michel passed along the little tidbits of information she overheard, he made sure she got her funding from the government to run her clinic. That said, the good doctor had made it clear she wouldn't or couldn't testify in court; to do so would likely get her killed.
Garrus shifted on the couch trying to get comfortable, but the designer obviously hadn't had Turians in mind when he created it. Suddenly he heard voices and stood. The Ambassador, Commander and Captain entered the room.
"Detective," he heard the Commander say, and he saw the ends of her mouth pull up. If he remembered correctly, that meant she was pleased to see him. "What have you got for us?"
Garrus flared his mandibles, pleased with himself, "A contact of mine came through. She says she has information on Saren, but she won't give it up over the comm. I thought you might like to come with me to get it."
Shepard threw a look at the Ambassador, and he nodded. "We'll need to stop at my hotel so I can change," she said, gesturing to her dress uniform.
"My aircar's out front," Garrus gestured, and they head out of the embassy. As they made their way down the stairs, a questioned formulated in his head. He studied Shepard in her blue… outfit. She had called it a dress uniform and he knew human military wore it for formal occasions. To a Turian, the notion of having such a uniform was ridiculous. What was the point of it if you couldn't fight in it?
Still, he noticed the way her long legs extended out of her skirt, all the way to the strange little shoes she wore with the heels raised higher than the rest of the shoe. They couldn't be very comfortable, he mused, as he watched her walk. He was going to have to ask her about it… first he was going to have to ask if it was alright to ask.
He watched her with a keen eye. She was a predator. He had known that from the moment he met her, from the way she moved and scanned her surroundings, always looking for trouble. She reminded him of one of those Earth feline predators he'd seen on the extranet… a lioness or tigress; graceful and utterly deadly. It was incredibly attractive.
"Is there a problem, Garrus?" Shepard said, breaking him from his evaluation of her. The human women stood alongside the passenger side of his air car with a strange expression on her face. He wanted to say it was curiosity, and he hoped she wasn't angry for the way he stared at her.
"No Shepard, just thinking about the mission," he lied, and unlocked his aircar. "Let's get a move on."
XXX
Commander Kara Shepard finished replacing her dress uniform on its hangers in the closet, before turning and pulling her jacket off the back of a chair. She studied the old, worn jacket and smiled. Though most people wouldn't have known by looking at it, this jacket was one of her most precious possessions. It had been her great grandfather's jacket, and he had been a Rear Admiral in the United States Navy. Emblazoned on the back in yellow letters was the word "Navy," and underneath that was the old US Navy emblem; an eagle with a red, white and blue shield for a chest, holding a anchor.
The old jacket had passed through four generations of Shepards to get to her. One day, as her granddad had told her, she'd give it to her kids - assuming she ever had any. With practiced grace she slid on the jacket before reaching out and grabbing a pair of aviator sunglasses to slip over her eyes. All that was left for her to do was holster her side-arm in her shoulder holster, which was concealed by the bulk of her jacket, and then head down to meet Garrus.
She paused after sliding her weapon into its holster. She had seen the way the Turian looked at her; like he was studying her, almost, but there had been something else there… desire? Shepard wasn't ignorant about her looks. She knew that many men and some women found her desirable, but she'd never gotten that look from a Turian before. She was sure that she was supposed to be feeling disgusted, but she couldn't. Deep down, she recognized a kindred spirit; he was just like her… a predator, a hunter, and that excited her.
Shepard left her hotel room, headed down the hall to the elevator, and went back down to the lobby where Garrus was waiting for her. She stepped out of the elevator, and made her way down the stairs leading to the elevator. She was thankful to be out of her heels and back into her combat boots.
"Ready to go, Shepard?" Garrus's dual tone voice rang out.
"I'm ready," she said, straightening her jacket, and allowed him to lead her out to his aircar. When she was strapped in Garrus shifted into gear and took off. "Where are we heading?"
"A clinic in one of the seedier districts of Bachjret Ward," Garrus said, as he skillfully drove his vehicle through the constant streams of traffic that flew around and through the Citadel. "The doctor that runs it said she had information."
"Is she reliable?" Shepard questioned. The last thing she wanted to do was waste her time on a wild goose chase.
"She's never given me bad information," Garrus said, his eyes never leaving the skylanes. "Sometimes the information she's given has been a little late, but never bad."
Minutes later, he brought his vehicle to a halt and parked it in a rather dark and seedy parking lot. The pair leapt from the car as soon as the hatch opened, and Shepard let Garrus lead her in the direction of the clinic. This area was just like Garrus had predicted: dark and seedy. It reminded her of the less fortunate areas of any major city.
In an effort to blend in - a necessary skill for any covert operative - Shepard shoved her hands in her pockets, hunched her shoulders, and bowed her head. A quick look at Garrus and she saw he was doing the same, which increased her confidence in him; he knew what he was doing.
The pair wove their way through the crowds, keeping a good distance between each other, and periodically switching who was in the lead. Garrus coughed, and nodded in the direction of a building which had a heavily built man standing on the right side.
"That's a lookout it I ever saw one," Shepard whispered, as she reached into her jacket and pulled her weapon free of her holster. She brought it around and slipped it in her waist band near the small of her back. "How do want to play this?"
"Hard and fast?" he responded questioningly, sliding his own weapon into his waist band.
"Follow my lead then," she said, a smile touching her lips. Pulling her right arm across her chest like it was injured, she walked towards the door to the clinic.
When it was clear where she was headed, the lookout/guard moved to block her. "Clinic's closed," he said gruffly.
Shepard hissed like she was in pain and cradled her arm. "I think I broke my arm," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea how much this hurts?"
The tattooed bruiser growled, "Get lost, bitch," and pulled back his sleeveless jacket to reveal a pistol in the waist band of his pants.
Letting her eyes go wide, Shepard feigned fear and nodded quickly. She started to turn like she was leaving, but at the last moment pivoted on her right heel and slammed her right elbow into his face. The man staggered back into the wall and Shepard, quicker than he could react, jammed her gun hard into his stomach. "If you want to live past the next few seconds, you won't make a sound," she said. She relieved him of his weapon and handed it to Garrus, who had by this time moved up to cover her six.
The bruiser glared at her as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. "Fuck you," he spat, spitting blood on her face.
Shepard growled and took a step back, leveling her weapon at his face. She briefly considered killing him, but instead settled for pistol whipping him across the face. He crumpled to the ground. Wiping the blood away, she kicked the man in the balls, causing him to curl up and whimper.
She took a position to the left side of the door. "What's this doctor look like?" she questioned. She didn't want to shoot his informant by accident.
"Human," Garrus replied. "Female, light skinned, with red fringe." Shepard raised her eyebrow at the term, and he corrected himself, "Hair, with red hair."
Shepard nodded and brought her hand up with three fingers extended. "On three," she said and Garrus nodded. Taking a deep breath, she started counting, "One…two..."Her left hand was on the door while her right held her pistol. "Three!" she shouted, and slapped the button.
The door whooshed open and Shepard entered, hugging tight to the left side. Breaching a room filled with an unknown number of hostiles and a hostage was no walk in the park. Breaching, period, was just about the most dangerous thing a soldier could do. She'd rather wade through some alligator- infested swamp, or freeze on some frozen tundra hunting for a pirate base, than breach into an unknown situation.
Four figures occupied her field of were all human, three males and a female. That made things a little bit easier, she quickly thought as she placed her sights on the male thug to the far left. Her trigger finger caressed the firing stud, and the weapon spoke in one earsplitting roar, sending a tiny sliver of metal flying down range. The round impacted the thug on the far left at the base of his skull and he went down dead.
"What the-," the middle thug started to shout as he reached for the doctor, apparently to use her as a human shield, but he never made it farther than that. Shepard shifted her aim and fired again, catching him in the chest and sending him spinning to the ground.
Raising the muzzle so it pointed in the air, Shepard moved carefull towards the doctor who seemed to be in shock. As Garrus rushed to check on the good doctor, Shepard came up on the bodies to inspect them and make sure they were all dead. Toeing the thug on the far right over onto his back, she saw the man had a hole right between his eyes. That was one hell of a shot, she thought, as she threw Garrus an admiring glance.
When she did turn back to him, she saw him comforting the nearly hysterical doctor. "Doctor Michel," he said grabbing her by the shoulders, "calm down. What happened here? Who are these men? Where they here about the information you have for me? What is it?"
"Easy, Garrus," Shepard said, not looking up from securing the corpses' weapons. "Give her some room."
Garrus backed off and slowly the doctor came back. "They work for Fist," she started.
At her curious look, Garrus explained, "Raphael Fist is a minor crime lord and the owner of Chora's Den, a local strip club."
Michel nodded, "They wanted to shut me up, to keep me from telling Garrus about the Quarian."
"What Quarian?" Shepard asked, only a moment ahead of Garrus. Quarians - she had never actually met one before, few people had. They were a race of nomadic space travellers who had been exiled from their homeworld and colonies after a devastating rebellion by the geth, after the synthetics achieved sentience.
"Yesterday," the doctor started, rubbing her hands together with worry, "a quarian came to the clinic. She'd been shot, but wouldn't saw by whom. I could tell she was scared, probably on the run. She wanted to get in touch with the Shadow Broker. She said she had information proving that Saren betrayed the Council. She wanted to trade the information for a safe place to hide. So, I put her in contact with Fist. He's one of the Broker's agents."
That got Shepard's undivided attention. The Shadow Broker was the top information dealer in the galaxy. He or she or it sold state secrets like they were trinkets at one of the local markets. Alliance Intelligence, in cooperation with Naval Special Warfare, had devoted a significant amount of resources to tracking down the elusive broker, but nothing had ever come of it.
The operation had eventually been terminated, after the lead agent had been arrested when it had been revealed that several large payments had been credited to his account. The internal security agents eventually traced the payments as going through Illium, the Citadel, and half a dozen other worlds until it came to Noveria. While nothing could be proved, internal security believed him to be the reason the operation failed. The agent had been burned, and she had never heard from him again. Personally, she believed he was framed, but she couldn't prove that either.
"Not anymore," Garrus said holstering his weapon. "Now he works for Saren."
Michel looked completely floored. "Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker? That's stupid, even for him. Saren must have made him quite an offer," she said, rubbing her head.
"I say we pay Fist a little visit," she said, smiling at Garrus who nodded back at her. She turned to leave and stepped over one of the bodies. "You might want to call C-Sec and clean this mess up. Oh, and don't mention us," she finished sternly as she left the building.
When she the exited the building, she noticed that the man she knocked out was still lying there. He groaned, and she looked down at him for a second before kicking him in the balls again. "Remind me to never piss you off, Shepard," Garrus chuckled.
"That's a very good idea." She smiled before asking, "You know where this club is?"
Garrus nodded, "Come on, I'll show you."
XXX
The echo of metallic footfalls sounded as Saren stomped his way down the ramp of his shuttle, escorted by a phalanx of gleaming silver geth troopers. The shuttle rested on top of a large landing pad for a top secret laboratory on the planet Virmire.
"Agent Saren," an Asari addressed the Spectre with a small bow. "Welcome back to Virmire. Doctor Droyas is in the lab," she paused, sounding somewhat nervous. "He said he couldn't be disturbed, but I could fetch him if you want."
The Spectre regarded the scientist through cold silver eyes. He was slightly peeved that the doctor hadn't been here to meet him. After all, he had funded and provided the means for the doctor to save his species from a slow degradation into extinction. But the Spectre fought down his annoyance; if the Doctor came through, than it wouldn't matter one way or another. With both the geth and the Krogan to command, he would have mighty army at his disposal.
"How is his research going?" Saren snapped tersely as he headed off the pad and towards the facility. He didn't pause or slow his pace as the scientist struggled to keep up with his long strides.
"Doctor Droyas said he's made great strides towards the elimination of the genophage," she said excitedly. "We should be ready to begin testing in a few weeks' time."
Saren stopped abruptly, and the Asari bumped into him and fell back flat on her ass. The Spectre spun and grabbed the Asari by her throat, lifted her up and pinned her to the wall. "You've been saying that for weeks," he growled, causing the scientist's eyes to widen with fear. "If I don't see some improvement soon…," he trailed off, letting her mind work through all the horrible possibilities that awaited her, and with a grunt he let her fall to the ground.
The Asari slowly picked herself up off the ground. "Of course," she stuttered, rubbing her bruised throat, and without anything further took off in the opposite direction.
He snorted as he watched her go. She didn't understand what all this was. The little blue woman thought this was about solving some problem or righting a perceived wrong, when it had nothing to do with it. This was about power - power to effect change and power to preserve.
The Spectre entered the lab where the Krogan doctor worked. Almost immediately, the smell of antiseptic and blood assaulte his nostrils. This was brute force medicine he realized, as he stalked through the operating tables upon which rested several dissected Krogan bodies. Long ago such things stopped having an impact upon his soul; long ago he'd stopped seeing individuals and only focused on the bigger picture. The needs of the many… as the old saying went.
"Spectre," a voice at least three octaves lower than his own grumbled. "What a pleasant surprise," the Krogan doctor lied through his many teeth.
"Doctor," he grumbled back, evaluating the Krogan before him. The Krogan looked more like a butcher than a medical doctor, with his blood-stained apron and surgical gloves. "I want a report," he said, walking over to one of the dissected corpses. He plucked an organ off the cart with his taloned fingers. He couldn't remember which organ it was - Krogan had multiple redundant organs - but he thought it was a kidney or maybe a liver. "On your progress," he finished, letting the organ fall to the floor with a sickening squish.
"The current strain of retro-virals has shown promise on the latest batch of test subjects," the Krogan said, referring to the corpses. "Within a few weeks I'll have a viable cure."
Saren rapped the talons of his right hand on the table. "Good," he said, "and to make sure there are not anymore… delays... I'm leaving a legion's worth of geth here."
"That wasn't part to the arrangement," the Krogan snarled, taking several threatening steps forward before the whir of ten geth aiming their rifles at him cause him to stop.
A dark, almost demonic, gleam entered Saren's eyes and he stared down the Krogan. "I'm altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further," and with that. the Spectre left.
XXX
Garrus and Shepard entered Chora's Den looking like they were there to party. Shepard had her jacket open and her shirt pulled down so it revealed a good amount of cleavage. As they entered, Garrus was intently aware of her arm around his waist and her body pressing up against his. Her hand was rubbing his waist, and that was causing his body to react in a way that was going to become very obvious very soon.
They got several stares from the partiers as human/Turian couples weren't all that common, but eventually the intrigue wore off and they went back to their festivities. Sliding into a booth, he felt Shepard rest her head against his shoulder and whispered, "Do you have a plan, detective?" she whispered, and she ran her hand over his thigh.
He knew this was for show, and clenched his jaw so hard the bones ached to stop his body's instinctual reactions. "Shepard," he hissed, grasping her hand with his own. He had to stop her know before he embarrassed himself. "We have to figure out a way to get past the guard," he said, gesturing to the large Krogan.
To his relief Shepard, removed her hand and threw a brief glance over his shoulder before saying, "Maybe I could get invited for a personal visit to Fisk."
The tone of her voice clearly stated what kind of personal visit she would have to try to convince him she was going to provide. Garrus felt a growl form deep in his chest that took him by surprise. In the short time he'd known this human female he developed feelings of… he wasn't quite sure what they were. He respected her abilities as a soldier and he felt protective of her, "I'd rather you not have to put yourself at risk."
Shepard glanced around the room for a brief second. "Well Garrus, I count seven guards, not counting the Krogan," she said softly, and rested her head against his shoulder as another couple walked by.
Garrus reached his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, in keeping with the ruse. Narrowing his eyes he glanced around the room again. He'd only seen six guards, seven if you count the Krogan. He flared his mandibles in frustration, he still only saw six. He looked back at her. "I only see six."
She leaned in till her face was only a few inches from his so it looked like she was whispering something intimate. "Two by the door." She started out with the easy ones first. Those were the big bruisers that everyone was supposed to see. "The three by the strippers," she said, pointing to the two humans and the Turian meant to keep people from getting too friendly with the strippers. They were a bit more disguised, but still easily seen to those who knew what to look for. "And the couple three rows behind us."
He'd seen them before; like a good cop and former scout sniper, he made sure he was always aware of his surroundings. The human couple sat at their booth, made out, and occasionally got up to dance before sitting back down to drink and chat. He was about to question Shepard's observations when he suddenly noticed something - they weren't actually drinking. They brought the drink to their lips, but didn't actually drink any of it; instead, they just pretended.
It was an old trick used by cops, criminals, and any others who wanted to stay sober in a scene where drinking was expected. Spirits, he realized, she was right. Alright, so a straight fight was out of the question. Suddenly a thought came to him. "We could start a bar fight and slip in the office during the distraction."
Shepard paused before Garrus saw a smile slip over her face, and what he could only describe as a mischievous glint lit up her eyes. "Dance with me," she said, pushing him out of the booth and dragging him onto the dance floor. "Follow my lead," she whispered.
Garrus was about to ask her what she meant when he saw her fist flying towards him. He didn't even have time to duck or shout out before her fist connected with his face, knocking him flat on his ass. "You fucking asshole," she shouted, "you think you can just feel me up like that!"
In a flash of understanding, Garrus realized what she trying to do. It was ironic that she was playing off the hostility between the Turians and humans to pull this off. "You little bitch," he roared in fake anger as he stood up and rubbed his snout. Lashing out, he grabbed her by the throat carefully so not to actually hurt her. "You're gonna pay for that!"
"Hey, let her go," a dark skinned human male said, grabbing his wrist.
Garrus had to stop himself from sighing in relief - the plan was working. Ripping his wrist from the human's hand he roared, "Get your hand off me, human. The little cock-tease and I have a score to settle."
"Let hell you do, scaly," the human said sternly. "She's coming with me.
"Where do you get off thinking you're in charge here, ape-man?" another Turian growled. The 'little dispute' was growing as humans and Turians and even a few Salarians started taking sides. Heated arguments started, and it was only a matter of time before a punch was thrown and the fight started.
In the chaos, no one noticed the two slip away and towards the door that led to Fist's private 'play room' and office. With the guards focused on breaking up the fight, they didn't notice Garrus and Shepard slip past the door. Moving swiftly down the hall holding their weapons at the ready, Garrus heard a noise. Raising a clenched hand, he signaled Shepard to freeze. The noise sounded again, and his eyes went wide as he realized what it was. Apparently Shepard did as well, as she snorted in a laughter.
With a swift kick, Shepard knocked in the door. "Freeze," she shouted, aiming her pistol. "Don't make a move."
A second later Garrus entered the room, his weapon leveled, and almost immediately raised it up again. Fist was hardly in a position to fight back. He was naked as the day he was born, with two naked women on either side; it was clear what they had just been doing. "What the fuck his going on here?" he shouted, reaching for his weapon.
Shepard, however, was intent on keeping him from accomplishing that. She fired a single shot in front of his outstretched hand. "Not so fast, Fist," she said, letting the barrel of her pistol drift down to his most 'precious' of areas in an unspoken threat. "The Quarian. Where'd you send her? Tell me now and you might escape without becoming an eunuch."
Garrus grimaced at the threat like, any sane male would, and Fist said quietly, "I don't know where the Quarian is-" but whatever he was going to say next was cut off as Shepard discharged her weapon. The round struck about an inch from his 'jewels.'
The two woman screamed, and so did he. "Fuck, you crazy bitch!" he shouted, before quickly adding, "I don't know where she is, but I know where she will be. The Quarian isn't here. Said she would only deal with the Shadow Broker himself."
"Impossible," Garrus said firmly. "The Broker only works through agents."
Fist paused, but quickly spoke as Shepard's finger tightened on the trigger. "She didn't know that. I told her I'd set up a meeting. When she shows, Saren's men will be waiting for her."
"I'd tell us the location before my friend decides to beat it out of you," Garrus threatened, with a nod in Shepard's direction.
"In the back alley by the markets," he said quickly. "She's supposed to meet them any minute now, if you hurry you can still catch them."
XXX
Shepard ignored the stares and the shouts of indignity as she pushed, weaved and shoved through the crowds of people. She and Garrus raced through this district of the Wards. They only had matter of minutes to get where they needed to be, or the Quarian would die and they would be back where they started with nothing but a corpse to show for it.
"Do we have a plan, Shepard?" Garrus huffed as he ran alongside her.
"Not in particular," she called out to the Turian. She was pretty much running on instinct by now, and they were rushing into the unknown with no intelligence or support. She briefly considered calling the local C-Sec precinct for backup, but quickly realized that they never get here in time.
They arrived at the entrance to the alley behind the markets and Shepard spotted, among the scores of residents and passersby, a lone Turian holding a poorly concealed sub-machine gun. She nudged Garrus to look over in that direction. "Lookout," was all she said.
After a few seconds he nodded, and Shepard reached down and pulled a matte-black hardened carbon steel folding dagger from its concealed carry place in her boot. Making her way through the crowd, she waited until she was less than two meters from him before calling, "Marcus," in such away so it'd sound like she was talking to an old friend.
The Turian whose facial markings Shepard thought looked almost clown-like, blinked, "You've got the-"
With a quick movement of her fingers and a flick of her wrist, the blade was out and she had the tip pressed against the Turian's femoral artery equivalent. His eyes widened as he realized all she would have to do was press hard, and he'd be dead in half a minute.
Reaching with her free hand, she took the sub-machine gun from him and pushed him slowly back into the alleyway and out of the main traffic area. She took a quick look over her shoulder to make sure Garrus was still with her and covering the lookout, before folding the knife and sliding it back into her boot.
She briefly studied the weapon in her hands. An M-9 Tempest - a rapid fire fully automatic weapon heavily favored by special operations troops and mercenaries alike. She did a brief check of the weapon and found, that while it had been poorly maintained, it was still functional. Without hesitation she smashed the butt of the weapon into the Turian's head, knocking him out cold. After the lookout had been taken care of, Shepard and Garrus moved deeper into the alleyway with weapons held at the ready.
"Where's the Shadow Broker?" they heard an electronically amplified female voice say. Shepard raised a hand and lowered herself to one knee, signaling Garrus to take cover. "Where's Fist?" the voice repeated again, sounding equal parts scared and angry.
From her cover Shepard took a quick glance and saw a Turian, four Salarians and a Quarian. "Relax," the Turian cooed, stepping closer to the Quarian. "Where's the data?"
Shepard cursed under her breath as she aimed down the sights of the SMG. There were four of them, all armed with sub-machine guns, and as far as she could tell the Quarian wasn't armed at all. She didn't like these odds one bit.
"That's it, the deals off," the Quarian said, making a slashing motion with her hand. The Turian, predictably, did not look pleased and turned to signal his men, but he never made it as the Quarian tossed some sort of explosive device which detonated at his feet.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Shepard opened fire. She didn't quite aiming at anything, but just tried to keep their heads down as the Quarian leapt behind some crates. Once the Quarian was more or less secure, she shifted her aim to focus on the three remaining Salarian hitmen. Garrus had killed one. Her next burst caught one of the amphibians right in the chest, dropping him.
"Fuck," Shepard shouted as she felt the side of her right arm flare up in pain. She dropped back down behind the metal crate she was using for protection. She glanced at her wound and grimaced. The wound itself wasn't that bad. It had hit her bicep, going straight through the muscle and out the other side. It hurt like hell and would cause problems if it wasn't treated, but that was not what the grimace was for; the grimace was because she now had a three inch long cut in the arm of her favorite jacket.
"Shepard," Garrus shouted, and she could hear the concern in his voice. "You still up?"
Clasping her left hand over the bloody wound she held up her right hand, wincing as she did. "I took a hit, but I'm fine," she shouted back. To empathize that point she fired several more bursts from her weapon, sending the rounds downrange. "Get the Quarian."
Shepard fired again and so did Garrus. This time, they received no fire in return as the last enemy fell. Shepard covered Garrus as he quickly advanced towards the Quarian's position. Once she was sure she would be fine Shepard dropped back down, resting up against the crate as she laid her weapon down next to her. Unzipping her jacket she took a good segment of the base of her undershirt in her hands, and ripped a strip long enough to bandage her arm. Gingerly, she tied the makeshift bandage tightly around her arm to stop the flow of blood from the wound.
By the time she was finished, Garrus had come back with the Quarian in tow. "Shepard, this is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," Garrus said, referring to the purple environmental suited Quarian.
Shepard blinked slightly at the name. "Is it alright if I call you Tali?"
The masked and helmeted head of the Quarian nodded briefly. "That's fine," she started but trailed off. "Keela," she shouted, pointing to Shepard's wound, "are you alright?"
"Fine," Shepard growled as she stood. "You still have the data?"
Tali patted one of the pockets of her environmental suit. "It's still here. It will give me the chance to repay you for saving my life."
"Good. Let's get back to the embassy."
XXX
A few hours later, with her arm professionally bandaged and her wound filled with a regenerative bio-foam, Shepard stood once more in her finest dress before the Council as Ambassador Udina presented the evidence that Tali had managed to secure.
She was quite impressed that the young Quarian girl had managed to ambush a geth and not only subdue it, but extract its memory processor unit and recover useful information. It was that useful information that was now playing over the loud speakers.
"Eden Prime was a major victory," Saren's voice clearly sounded. "The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit."
"And one step closer to the return of the Reapers," another voice said, a female voice that Shepard didn't recognize. From the way it sounded she was sure that it was either from a human or an Asari, and given Saren's apparent distaste for humanity she doubted it was the former.
Reapers. The very name was disconcerting. It brought to mind images of darkness and death, not to mention a black cloaked skeletal figure holding a scythe. The fact that the geth believed these Reapers were responsible for the destruction of the Protheans, the most advanced organic species in history, didn't help matters at all.
"You wanted proof," Udina said, thrusting a finger at the Council, and Shepard couldn't help but notice the smugness with which he said it. "Well, there it is!"
"This evidence," the Turian councilor said almost hesitantly, "is irrefutable. C-Sec has confirmed its authenticity. Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status and all efforts will be made to arrest him."
Throughout the Turian's little speech Shepard noticed that the Asari councilor was looking uneasy. "I recognize the other voice speaking to Saren. The one C-Sec couldn't identify. Matriarch Benezia," the Asari said very slowly, as if she didn't quite believe it. "She a very power biotic, and a leader of great influence among my people."
That got Shepard interested. Asari Matriarchs were supposedly amongst the wisest beings in the galaxy, and while she was sure they all weren't the wily sages they were made out to be, the fact that one would side with Saren was surprising and disturbing.
"I'm more interested in the Reapers," the Salarian added. "What do you know about them?"
"The geth believe the Reapers to be an ancient race of machines that wiped out the Protheans, before they themselves vanished," Shepard said, crossing her arms. "It sounds almost unbelievable," she admitted, "though I do find it strange that almost every culture - from humans to Asari, Turians and Salarians - all have the word 'Reaper' in their vocabulary. The fact that all the cultures also associate Reapers as agents of death is also interesting." She paused. "The geth revere the Reapers, and they believe that Saren will use the Conduit to bring them back."
"Do we know what or where this Conduit is?" the Salarian asked.
That she didn't know. "If the Conduit can bring back these Reapers, it's bad enough," she stated, even though she wasn't sure if she believed it.
"Why would Saren want to bring back the machines that supposedly wiped out all life in the galaxy?" the Turian growled skeptically, and Shepard found herself agreeing with him. "That doesn't make sense. It's impossible; it has to be. Where did they go, why did they vanish? If they were real, we would have some trace of their existence. We would have found something."
As far as Shepard was concerned, there were two possibilities. One, that the councilor was right and the Reapers were a myth; a fairytale Saren used to dupe a race of AI's into believing in enough to become his own private army. The second option was that the Reapers were real and they not only managed to wipe out the Protheans, but also all evidence of their own existence; they then somehow managed to seduce a Spectre into their service. She wasn't sure which was more terrifying. Though, if the first option was correct, then what could she make of her visions? They certainly seemed to support the option that the Reapers were real.
"The Reapers are obviously a myth," the Salarian added, "a lie he's using to cover his motives and secure the allegiance of the geth."
"What about Saren?" she spoke up. He was the reason she was here in the first place, and she hated leaving unfinished business. "He's still a traitor." She paused for a second, before adding, "A traitor with an army of geth at his command."
"Yes," Udina shouted, taking the foreground again. "That criminal is still out there. You know he's hiding somewhere in the Traverse," he made a clenching motion with his fist. "Send your fleet after him!"
Shepard glanced at him with a look of shock clearly etched on her face. Did he really understand what he was asking the Council to do? While the Attican Traverse was technically a part of Council space, it bordered the widely unstable Terminus systems. She wanted Saren badly, but she wouldn't start a war with the Terminus systems to do it.
"A fleet cannot track down one man," the Salarian said as if speaking to a small child.
Udina relented, and Shepard saw some of the fight drain out of him as his shoulders sagged. "A fleet could secure the Traverse and keep the geth from attacking any more human colonies." That was a far more valid point, Shepard mused, but she still didn't think it would fly at the moment. The Council wouldn't be willing to march until they were sure the geth were on the warpath.
"Or it could start a war with the Terminus systems," the Turian councilor exclaimed. The others let him speak, probably because any Citadel fleet would most likely be made up of a majority of Turian ships and units. "We won't be dragged into a war over a few human colonies."
"There is another way," the Asari interrupted. "One that doesn't require fleets or armies."
The Turian's eyes went wide and his mandibles flared. No doubt he realized that his argument had just provided a perfect opportunity for the elevation of a human Spectre. Shepard realized it too, and closed her eyes and brought her hand to her forehead. She had still been hoping to avoid the whole Spectre thing, and she wasn't particularly thrilled with what was being thrust upon her. Still, her whole life she had had the notion of duty drilled into her. Straightening her back, she waited for what she knew was coming.
"It's too soon," the Turian feebly argued. "Humanity isn't ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres."
"I can do it," she stated firmly. "I'm an N7 Special Forces Operator, and a damn fine officer. I'm the only one to command a team to fight the geth in over two hundred years. I saved the colony on Eden Prime, and uncovered Saren's treachery." She gritted her teeth. "I may not like it, but I'm capable of doing it."
The Asari and the Salarian looked at each other before nodding, and eventually the Turian nodded as well. The Asari councilor straightened, coming to her full height. "Commander Shepard," she spoke, her melodious voice echoing through the chamber. "Step forward."
Schooling her features into an impassive mask, she did so. She was about to become something she seriously disliked, and had previously held in contempt. She was going to join a group she felt was fundamentally immoral and unjust. She was doing this all for the sake of duty. As she took that step, she became aware that the general hum of activity died down as the beings in the room focused on her and the momentous event taking place.
"It is the decision of this Council," the Asari said, "that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactic and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel."
The Salarian spoke next. "Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fires of service and battle; those whose actions have elevated them above the rank and file."
"Spectres are a symbol," the Asari spoke again. "An ideal. They are the embodiment of courage, determination and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, and the instrument of our will."
"Spectres bear a great burden," the Turian intoned grudgingly. "They are the protectors of galactic peace; our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."
"You are the first human Spectre," the Asari stated solemnly. "This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species."
Shepard took a deep breath, came to attention, and saluted. She was fully aware of what this meant for mankind, and for herself in particular. The eyes of the galaxy were upon her. Everyone with a grudge, or a reason to try to hold humanity back, was looking to her to fail. As an N7 Special Forces Operator, she had thrived in operating in secrecy and from the shadows. Spectres attracted attention, and she wasn't sure she was going to like that.
"I have one question," she said, dropping her salute, and the Councilors nodded to her to continue. "Do I get a badge?"
Authors note:
Also if you want a mental image of what I think my Shepard looks like think of Katee Sackhoff aka Kara Thrace from Battlestar Galactica.
Goose-stepping is a military drill where soldiers in formation bring their legs and arms up ninety degrees when marching. Think Russians and Nazis soldiers marching.
Who else notice that Garrus only had something like a day to conduct an investigation of Saren? I'm no cop but that seems like an incredibly short time to build a case against someone let alone someone who has the authority and powers of a Spectre.
Also as you probably know I don't like the Spectres. I don't like the idea of a government organization operating on the principal that they are above the law. I think no matter how carefully you select the members of said organization that eventual it will become a force of oppression. That is the reason most police have systems of oversight and account ability to prevent abuse of power. It's like the old saying goes: power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely
While Shepard was Alliance black ops, that doesn't mean she was above the law. She did bad things for good reasons, with full knowledge that what she was doing was criminal according to the rule of laws. Spectres, on the other hand, can do whatever they want with no repercussions. That's the difference between black ops units and the Spectres.