Grains of Sand
Amber Penglass
Chapter Seven
When Shepard and Garrus returned to the compound, they were greeted by a scene of organized chaos. Amid shouts and the pounding of hurrying feet, the asari vanguard was snapping her left gauntlet into place with a snap and hiss of suit-seals settling into place, while behind her Ripper was sheathing a pair of curved blades at her hips. The woman really did seem fond of sharp things. To the side, the krogan was packing spare heat sinks into various suit compartments. The salarian was nearby, as well, his omnitool interface making his huge eyes seem to glow orange.
"Garrus," Monty greeted, grinning widely. "Got a situation." She sounded as if someone had told her Christmas was coming early.
"So I figured," Garrus replied. Shepard stayed back as he went to his team, holding his hand out for the datapad Monty was examining. She handed it over without complaint, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fill me in," he said.
"Erash caught a message with his super nerd spy network. There's something going down in thirty, involves that new club in Zeta."
"The one run by that human trafficker?" Garrus' voice was sharp.
"The same," the salarian standing by the asari answered, nodding. "Name's Denas. We'll want to avoid contact."
"Why, Mierin?" The asari asked, her expression coy. "Someone you know from your STG days?"
The salarian, Mierin, fixed her with a dark look, his only response a long blink. She snorted and moved away towards the ammo cache the krogan was still working at. How many compartments did he have?
"Ripper," Garrus called. "Stay here. Keep an eye on our new guest until Sidonis gets back, he'll fill you in. I want Butler to start working with them on a plan of theirs, whenever he shows up."
Ripper visibly restrained herself from protesting, then sat down, hard, on one of the couches. If turians could throw silent tantrums while looking murderous, this one was accomplishing it.
Garrus had, of course, already been decked out in full kit when meeting Shepard, so there was no need for him to get ready. As soon as the others were set -"Krul, the last time you put extra clips there, it took you a week to regrow your quad and I am not listening to you moan about that again."- Garrus took them out the back way, the same way he and Shepard had arrived.
He paused, briefly, to lean in low and speak to Shepard as he passed, his voice kept low. "Ignore Ripper's attitude. She gets antsy when she knows we're out having fun without her."
"Ignore the torture-happy, talon-sharpening expat glowering at me," Shepard replied sending the turian in question a sidelong glance. "Riiight."
Garrus grinned down at her, then made to move on before she raised a hand to forestall him. She didn't think about it, just lifted her hand in the gesture she'd made a million times, and he responded. He stopped. He didn't seem to note how it had been automatic, but she did.
"I could come with you, you know," she offered. She couldn't not offer, even knowing the answer.
He eyed her, for a moment. "You don't have a hardsuit."
"I'm pretty resilient," she said, and she couldn't quite keep the smirk out of her voice. "And I'm really good at ducking."
He shifted his stance, crossed his arms and regarded her with a calculating look. "I've never worked with you before."
"That's a lie, and you know it." The words were out before she could stop them. "We worked together just fine an hour ago."
He snorted. "One scared kid and a tried-and-true tactic." He glanced past her, at Ripper, then said in a lower voice, "Besides, I wouldn't be doing you any favors by taking you when I just told one of my own to behind." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I want you working with Butler and Sidonis on getting those components you need, in any case. The sooner Cerberus is off Omega, the sooner you're not trapped here."
He left. Shepard examined the sharp disappointment that welled up in her at the sight the asari, the salarian, the krogan -Krul- and Monty following him,. She did not like it, even if she understood where he was coming from. It had been a long, long time since Commander Shepard had been told to stay put.
When the door cycled shut behind Garrus and his team, Shepard heard Ripper let out a harsh exhalation, and realized the woman had risen and walked closer, silent as anything. Shepard managed not to embarrass herself, and didn't jump.
"It took him a month before he considered taking me out with him," Ripper said, surprising Shepard. She'd expected the turian woman to maintain a stony silence. Shepard turned to face her, consciously keeping her arms at her sides in a non-defensive posture.
"You'll note, I'm still here," Shepard told her, going for diplomatic. Ripper gave her a look.
"He was considering it, though." Ripper sighed, and some of her homicidal resentment seemed to bleed out of her. "Come on, I've got things to do."
Shepard followed, contemplating her companion's words. He had been considering it, she realized. Briefly and not hard, but he had. On the Normandy, she hadn't often had the luxury of testing out the people she picked up, going with her gut instead and just taking the untried ones out on relatively 'safe' missions before risking having them at her back on more risky ventures. Garrus, apparently, was taking advantage of having time on his side.
Ripper led her down below the compound, passing by the corridor that would have taken them to the interrogation room Shepard had seen the once. They went through another, larger, set of doors and emerged into a dimly lit warehouse. Judging by the layer of dust that covered most everything, the boxes and crates she was seeing had been there long before Garrus and his people moved in.
"Might as well make yourself useful," Ripper told her. "Garrus has wanted this warehouse organized since we got here. Says there's probably some valuable stuff in here somewhere." She gestured vaguely to an industrial mech that sat, powered down, off to the side. "I think that thing still works. Have fun."
And then, despite Garrus' words about 'keep an eye on' Shepard, Ripper turned and left.
Shepard turned and blinked at the mech.
"I suddenly have a new definition of the words 'busy work,'" she said, laughing softly, and headed for the mech. Even if it wasn't functioning, she was pretty sure she could fix it. In a surprisingly pleasant way, she spent the next few hours not looking over her shoulder for the first time since waking in on a Cerberus table.
Butler came and found her just as Shepard completed her first test circuit of the newly repaired mech. Its gait was clunky, too much so, but it would have to do- she couldn't fix that particular issue without some parts she didn't have. She spotted the human as she turned the mech around to park it back its docking bay to finish recharging, and gave him a brisk wave to let him know she'd seen him. She secured the mech, powered down its cells, and climbed down out the cockpit.
"Sidonis with you?" She asked, and Butler nodded. He was looking at her oddly. She wasn't one of those people who turned to inward self-doubt whenever a sideways glance came her way, but she did notice them. She ignored it for now. If he had a question, he'd either ask it or not. If he had a problem with her, she'd either find out about it or not. Worrying about it helped no one.
"Yeah, he's upstairs. He filled me in already."
"What do you think?" She grabbed a rag she'd found and used it to wipe her hands clean of grease and dirt, then tossed it aside to follow when Butler turned to lead the way back up to the ground level.
"I'm not overly fond of blowing up people who are stranded, but hey, it's Cerberus, so..." he gave a nonchalant little shrug that told her that, Cerberus or no, it bothered him.
It bothered her, as well, and had been on her mind while she'd been fixing the mech.
"As a last resort only," she told him. "I want to talk to Sidonis about rigging it so that it only blows if Cerberus manages to restart their drive core before authorities take them into custody."
Butler visibly relaxed, and palmed open the door leading into the main floor of the compound. "That sounds good," he said. "And if Sidonis can't do it, Meirin or Erash can."
"There's nothing I can't do," Sidonis said by way of greeting, clearly having heard Butler as they came into view. He had commandeered one of the tables near the kitchen, covering it with various components and machinery. A holographic display module was set up, and he was playing with what looked like a rudimentary version of the 'crybaby' she had described. Parts of it resembled the pieces laying on the table- he'd already collected much of what they needed in one short afternoon. Sidonis flashed them a grin along with his cocky words as they approached. Shepard gave him a rueful look in return, impressed despite herself, and the three of them got to work refining their little plan.
Hours later, Butler called for a break and made his way into the kitchen. Shepard checked the time and frowned.
"Did Garrus communicate with either of you on how long he anticipated his mission to last?" She asked the human and the turian. Not that predictions meant beans, but the lack of communication was bothering her. Not her mission, not her people, not her home ground- there was no reason for her to have received any sort of mission update, she knew that, and yet... She hated being in the dark.
Sidonis glanced at his omnitool's display, and gave a turian approximation of a shrug. "Not for a few hours now, but that's not unusual. He put out a full day cycle minimum before we go in guns blazing in any sort of rescue attempt." Shepard raised an eyebrow, and without further prompting the turian explained, "Any time any of us goes out, Garrus has us determine a timeframe for any potential...well, badness. No one's allowed to go in after anyone else before that timeframe elapses, unless we get information that supports early action."
Shepard nodded. It wasn't a concept she as unfamiliar with. It was, in fact, one of her own rules. She felt her lips twitch into a mirthless smirk.
Butler returned with a trio of meal packets, one dextro, in one hand and a trio of drinks in the other, also one dextro. They ate and drank while continuing to discuss their project, but it wasn't the food that kept Shepard from dedicating her entire attention to the topic at hand. She couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She told herself it was because she was so unaccustomed to having her fingers off the pulse of a mission, that she should trust Sidonis and Butler's assessments. And yet...
"Have either of you see Ripper since you got back?" She asked suddenly, interrupting Butler as he reached out to poke at the bit of display he was talking about. Two sets of eyes blinked at her.
"Ripper's here?" Sidonis asked, sounding confused. He looked down at his omnitool.
"Garrus told her to stay behind, keep an eye on me." Shepard's tone was wry. No one liked being told to babysit, especially not people like Ripper. And people like Shepard didn't like to be babysat, either.
Sidonis cursed and stood abruptly. Shepard stood, also, her body language reacting to his; tense, worried, suddenly coiled and ready for action. Butler followed suit.
Sidonis caught Shepard's eye and said, "That communication I told you I got a few hours ago? It came from Ripper. She's not in the compound, hasn't been for hours. She went after Garrus."
"She'd only do that if she thought something was up," Butler said, but he sounded unsure.
"And she didn't tell us?" Sidonis snapped. "Even she's not that stupid. Something's up."
Shepard blinked at him. "Well, no shit." The next words out of her mouth grated. "What do we do now?" She knew what she'd do if she were in charge, but damnit she wasn't.
Sidonis gave her a predatory grin, aided none too little by the array of sharp teeth put on display. "We go get the moron, is what we do."
It was a work of beauty, how quickly Butler and Sidonis not only suited up their own selves but also scrounged up a spare human female set for Shepard, as well. It was older even than Monty's outdated Alliance hardsuit, and was one of the worst fits she'd ever endured. It was huge and awkward, an old heavy model made for someone taller and thicker. However, it put hard ionized ceramic over important things like lungs and heart and had a functional, if antiquated, shield generator. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and it wasn't quite bad enough to make going without the safer option. Besides, if it came to it, she really was good at ducking.
It occurred to her wonder, once, why Sidonis seemed ready and willing to put her in armor pull her alongside him and Butler, when Garrus hadn't. She had a few theories, most of them coming down to differences in leadership style and none of them really something she could analyze at the moment. She was too satisfied at not being left behind again to look at to closely.
The three of them made their way through the subterranean labyrinth that took them out and away from the compound. They emerged into the glaring lights of Omega's Zeta district to the sounds of heavy music, raucous laughter, and a crowd of brightly dressed people of all species dancing in the street.
A festival. Shepard hated festivals. Especially ones that took place at night. Every laughing couple could stab her as they whirled by, every drunken stumbling idiot might be hiding a sidearm under a dirty coat, every shadowed alley might hold a thieving crew, every high window a trigger-happy sniper. All of those could be said of anywhere, anytime, but dark and crowded street faires made such occurrence that much more likely to happen, that much more likely to succeed. Shepard felt more than saw Butler and Sidonis tense alongside her, knew they were thinking along the same lines as she was.
"Sidonis, take point," she said. He was the biggest, would be able to cut through the crowd the best. Sidonis glanced at her, probably at the unhesitating command in her tone, but he obeyed. She hadn't meant to give an order, but there it was, no taking it back now. Butler fell in line behind her, and the three of them speared their way through the crowd with relative ease. Sidonis' avian eyes scanned ahead of them, able to see further and better given his height advantage; most of the crowd was made up of humans and asari, two species almost universally a good head shorter than a turian of only average height. Sidonis was not average height.
Shepard checked her omnitool. While making their way from the compound, Sidonis had forwarded her a copy of their route to the club in question. Specifically, their route down to a side entrance used for deliveries. According to her readout, they weren't far.
They weren't the only armed group they saw. Shepard wasn't surprised; in a melee like this, it wasn't unfeasible for people of means to hire a bodyguard or two, or some muscle to defend their storefronts from looters and the damage of careless revelers.
As they neared their target building, a gaudy thing painted in several different clashing shades of grey and orange and pink and red, the three of them began to communicate with silent, subtle gestures in a mixture of human, turian, and universal hand signals. They slid free of the crowd and into the alleyway beside the club, and out of sight. Butler and Sidonis went to crouch on either side of the delivery entrance, while Shepard got to work at the locking mechanisms. A few short moments saw the old fashioned digital tumblers coaxed into place, and they were in.
The interior was dark. Shepard hit her helmet's night vision setting, but nothing happened. Broken. She scowled and slid the visor open- it wasn't a ballistic one anyway, so it offered virtually no protection and just hindered her vision in the already dim room. She blinked into the gloom, and in a moment she began to wonder if someone wasn't slowly raising the lights. Her night vision was good. It wasn't this good. Or at least, it never had been before.
'Improved sight in the dark' was added to her growing list of things she suspected Cerberus of having a hand in. 'Supreme resistance to sedation' was still her favorite. 'Head of bald egg' was definitely her least.
Sidonis took point again, and she let him. If they were to come across Garrus or any of his people, they'd recognize Sidonis or Butler. Shepard? Shepard they might shoot on sight and ask questions later.
The room they navigated was a delivery bay of some sort. The door they'd come in through was a small side one, while across from it was a larger set of doors meant to allow bigger vehicles to back in and unload. There was one truck, parked and darkened, its rear hatch shut. There were boxes and crates strewn everywhere, it little to no discernable organization. A small, unimportant corner of Shepard's brain thought of the handful of OCD people she'd known in her life, and snickered silently.
The trio came to a stop in front of the parked delivery truck, where a half circle of disorganized crates provided cover from all directions. All three checked their various sensor programs on their omnitools, all three exchanged potent glances when none turned up anything but themselves. No life signs, no movement that their 'tools could pick up.
Sidonis raised a hand and signaled, and Shepard frowned as she watched his fingers convey a message. He wanted himself and Butler to continue on, and for Shepard to remain and guard their retreat, should they need one. She signaled her acknowledgement and crouched down where she could see all the access points.
She watched Sidonis and Butler slide free of her cover and edge towards another door at the far end of the room, and wondered if they were thinking the same thing she was; why, if Garrus and his team had supposedly been here handing out mayhem and bloodshed, was it so quiet? It made her uneasy. Shepard didn't do uneasy, not in the middle of an op. She saved that for afterwards, when the 'holy shit I can't believe I survived that' set in. During? Hesitation and nerves during got you killed.
Still.
Shepard pulled up her tracking programs again. If their sensors were being jammed, and jammed delicately enough that her omnitool wasn't even registering that it was being blocked, then maybe with some tweaking...
Behind her, a grating noise filled the heavy silence. She turned to see the rear hatch of the delivery truck slam open. She had enough time to see a net, its fibers sparking and glowing with energy, before she dived to the side and rolled-
Not quick enough. The net caught her, tripped her, and before she could get back up the energy in the net was surging through her suit and frying it's outdated circuits in an instant. Her shield generator popped and smoked, and then the electricity reached the servos in the joints and destroyed those, too. She could still move, the suit wasn't that heavy, but it was suddenly like trying to fight while underwater. Sitting up became a study in stubbornness. By the time she managed it, her attackers had emerged from the truck and had her surrounded, the unfriendly ends of a half dozen weapons aimed at her head.
"Tag, I'm it?" She said. The attacker in front of her, the one who'd thrown the net, snickered and flipped his rifle around in his grip to slam the butt if it against her exposed face. She didn't black out- contrary to what the holovids showed, most people didn't actually go unconscious from a single blow, not unless it was in the exact right place on the right person. She did, however, see nothing but stars long enough to be unable to put up a fight as she was bound, gagged, and had her omnitool stripped from her gauntlet. She watched, fighting back nausea, as a boot came down on the piece of tech and destroyed it utterly.
From the back of the truck, a seventh figure emerged and looked at Shepard with a mixture of pity and resignation. Shepard snarled wordlessly, braced herself, and spat at Miranda Lawson's feet, the wet globule splattering across pristine black boots. Pain erupted from Shepard's shattered nose, radiating outward and gripping her skull with barbed fingers. She forced herself to breath through the agony. Worth it.
"Get her in the vehicle," Lawson said, her tone and words clipped, and at once Shepard was hauled upright and into the truck. As she was dragged past Lawson, the woman said, "Now, Shepard. I believe there's a conversation we need to have."
Sorry for the hiatus! Life. Meh. You all know how it goes.
Little note... I've always wondered about the variations in armor proficiency in ME classes. No one goes knowingly into dangerous situations without wearing the best damn protection they can, so there has to be a reason why a biotic wouldn't wear the heaviest damn armor available. The easy explanation, and one I assume is sort of a given, is that the heavy suits hinder the movements seemingly so essential to a biotic's abilities. However, the soldier class doesn't seem to have issues moving (I know, game mechanics and programing and wire models determine that. Go with me).
So, is it a weight thing? Seems to be so, to me. It makes sense- the denser a substance (ie, the better it can protect), the heavier it is. The heavier the armor, the more likely it is the wearer would need something to make moving in those things easier, make sprinting across battlefields feasible. Plus, in several armor designs there are what appears to be artificial joints/servos at the knees. So, it has been my headcanon for awhile that hardsuits come equipped with some sort of hydraulic assistance. Then, it becomes a balancing act for the various classes; how much protection (weight) can be offset by mechanical/hydraulic assistance, and how much weight can you handle if they fail? Thus, why biotics might go with lighter armor that would require less, or no, aforementioned mechanical/hydraulic assistance; if such assistance were to fail, they wouldn't be trapped, helpless, in a person-shaped tomb. Whereas, a soldier class, with their assumed enhanced strength and muscle weaves, might be able to muscle through it and still shove a shotgun in someone's face.
Tada.
...yeah I think about this stuff way too much. Until next update! :-)