PART 3: INNOCENCE LOST (2171)
"In position."
Each four-strong fire team stacked up outside a different set of doors.
"Check. On my mark."
The four members of Slipstream squad clutched their weapons in clawed talons.
"Breach in three, two, one ..."
The heavily armed soldiers aimed, pointing two Mattock-Tens, a Blitz and a Radiance at the door.
"Breach!"
The door smashed into fragments as the breaching charge detonated, a cluster of shrapnel scything through the poorly prepared occupants as the SEALs followed their makeshift frag blast into the room. Biotics flared up as the terrorists reacted to the unexpected attack, their actions clumsy and disorganised compared to the brutal efficiency of the elite soldiers. The heavy didn't fire his LMG, conserving ammo, instead using the underslung light shotgun to great effect. One of the Asari terrorists was caught with her barrier down, the shot tearing through her chest and spraying violet gore across the wall. The biotic specialist leaped into the air, a foot shrouded in dark energy lashing out in a flying kick that caught another of the terrorists in the throat, snapping her neck instantly. The assault specialist switched out his Ten for a Hyena assault shotgun, the weapon letting out a deep reverberating boom that took down a biotic barrier, allowing his combat knife to penetrate her skull in the weak point between two of her crests, killing her instantly.
The last terrorist reacted quicker than expected, spinning on her heel. An Overload stripped the assault specialist of his shields, then a Warp hit him full in the chest. A burst from the heavy's LMG put her down even as the medic hurried over to her fallen comrade.
"Shit! Vakarian, is he going to be okay?"
Sergeant Solana Vakarian propped him up into a sitting position and examined the wound. A biotic warp attack was an attack designed to kill. Surviving one was as much a matter of luck as of skill. Solana sported a set of curving bluish scars on her left hip from where she was hit by a glancing blow from a Warp a couple of years ago.
"Think so. Attack was off centre, most of the field passed him. Kandros, help me get his armour off."
The biotic specialist, Nyreen Kandros, knelt down and helped her remove the chest plate and left pauldron as the heavy pressed a finger to his comm built into his Omnitool.
"This is Slipstream, we have a mike delta, repeat one mike delta. Attempting field treatment."
The armour came off with a clang as Solana retrieved a regeneration spray module from her armour's grenade harness. Biting the cap off, she held it about ten centimetres from the stricken Turian's skin, spraying the cool blue fluid all over the wounded area.
"Medkits fix everything, calm down."
The assault specialist opened his eyes as his breathing slowed down to a more acceptable pace.
"Thanks Doc."
"Anytime. Looks like that's going to scar up nicely. The Krogan babes will be all over you."
The assault hissed as he gingerly probed his shoulder.
"Do medkits fix getting crushed to death by a lizard?"
She chuckled and hauled the assault up.
"On your feet, soldier. Armour up."
A minute later they were moving again.
"Try not to get shot there. The warp screwed up your armour."
"Copy that, Doc. Don't get shot, sound advice."
"Comedian."
The heavy contacted the other two fire teams.
"This is Slipstream team. Back en route, three minutes behind schedule. Compensating."
"Copy that, Slipstream. Gambit team also delayed, Eagle team holding."
Solana swapped her Ten for her TCN4, the submachine gun's punishing rate of fire better suited to indoor combat. Beside her she noticed Nyreen also swapping to her SMG as the assault checked over his shotgun.
"Ready to proceed."
The next three rooms were already clear, showing signs of hasty abandonment.
"Terrorists must've pulled back to protect their hostage. No sign of traps or bombs. Move up."
The fire team quickly made their way to the door and stacked up, readying their weapons. The heavy and the assault specialist were taking point, LMG and shotgun ready to devastate the room beyond.
"Slipstream in position."
"Gambit in position."
"Eagle in position. About time you guys got here."
"Breaching in three, two, one. Breach."
The door whooshed open, simultaneous weapon reports sounding out and smashing through six more terrorists.
"Freeze! Drop your weapons or I blow it!"
Twelve Turian heads swivelled round to see the terrorist leader with a shotgun pressed into the hostage. The secure server simply sat there, the AI imprisoned within completely unaware of its surroundings. Solana's visor cycled through records, eventually finding a match.
Tela Vasir, Council Spectre.
"Doesn't look good for you, does it. An Asari spectre with Asari radicals with commando training in a safehouse on the Asari homeworld? That's a political shitstorm even before we haul your corpse up before the Council."
The Asari's eyes flicked between the SEALs with their rifles trained on her.
"I said drop your fucking weapons!"
The commander of Eagle team held up a detonator.
"Whoops."
The short range burst of electricity emitted from the 'hostage' stripped the Spectre's shields away, shooting through her nervous system and paralysing her. The commander shook his head.
"Noob. Pack her up and let's bounce."
Solana rubbed her helmet and chuckled.
"Can't believe they fell for that."
###
Liara stepped into General Massani's office and nodded at him.
"General. You have a job for me?"
The scarred veteran nodded.
"Yes. This is Agent Culpepper from the CIA."
She turned to coolly regard the man in the expensive business suit.
"Culpepper? You Humans have the strangest names."
The CIA agent nodded at her.
"Captain Ocean. I've heard a lot about you and your unit. Your assault on Battlemaster Kureck's Vorcha bands was inspired."
"I can attribute that victory to nothing but Blood Pack stupidity. I honestly did not think they would be dumb enough to fire rockets in their own generator room. What are you after?"
To his credit the agent took her abrupt change of tack in his stride.
"We've acquired a prisoner who we need some information from but we have all these oversight laws that stop us getting it."
"You're using the Suns as your torturers."
"I wouldn't put it like ..."
"Standard fee ten thousand unstamped platina, twelve thousand if people might come looking for the prisoner. Name?"
"The prisoner? She's called Tela Vasir, an Asari Spec ..."
"Twenty thousand."
"Done. We'll deliver the prisoner to the turnover point. She's a tricky one though."
Liara favoured Culpepper with a smile that had absolutely no warmth behind it.
"I'm trickier."
The agent left the room, promising to deliver the prisoner and the pay. As soon as the door closed Liara turned to look at Zaeed.
"You did good, Scarlet. You ever going to tell me your real name?"
"Nope. A Spectre?"
"You'll get it done."
She smiled again, this time a smile suitable for the man who straddled the line between commander and father for her.
"I always get it done, General."
###
"Mum!"
Sighing, Kleeah turned to her daughter. Jack was standing there, hands on hips, indignant expression on her face.
"Yes Jack?"
"Tali won't let me have a turn on the swing."
Sitting at the kitchen table, Rael chuckled at the long suffering sigh Kleeah let out as she was towed into the garden by her angry daughter. The scene was just so ... domestic. He turned his attention back to the reports spread over the table. He was largely retired from his role as a commando, instead diverting his attention to raising his daughters and training Quarian soldiers. Opposite him Raider let out a short electronic warble Rael had come to associate with a sigh. In recent years all the Geth had become much more Quarian. When he asked he received some spiel about 'dual-linking individual programs to allow for the spontaneous creation of red code matrices' and didn't ask again.
"The two shorter combat exercises in week 5 could be condensed into one longer one to allow for maximum time efficiency."
"They could, but it's better the recruits have a mix of long and short exercises so they have experience at both."
"We understand."
He glanced out of the window to the bubble garden. The tower the Zorah family lived in was shaped like an O with ten lines extending radially from equally spaced points on the main ring's circumference. Each floor was split into ten segments, each segment being a separate apartment. The tower widened as it rose, meaning the apartments were larger the higher up they went, and on the inside of the ring each apartment had a small strip of garden enclosed in a clean glass bubble. It was in this bubble garden that Tali and Jack were giving Kleeah a hard time.
"But I never get to go on the swing!"
"Shut up! You go on all the time! It's not fair!"
"Jack ..."
"Go away! You're stupid!"
"Tali!"
"Muuuum, Tali called me stupid! She's fucking stupid!"
"Muuuum, Jack said the F word!"
Glancing round at him, Kleeah made the Soviet hand signal for 'need backup'. He chuckled as he got up and headed out to the garden.
"Sorry Raider, I need to deal with this."
"We will be on standby with a medkit."
That made Rael guffaw.
###
There were many planets in the galaxy. Some were hot, some were cold. Some were dry, some were wet. Some had crushing pressure cooker atmospheres, some were airless rocks. Some were visions of paradise.
Heshtok was a shithole. There really wasn't a polite way to put it.
Tûrånìy hissed to herself in irritation as a gust of wind caked her in additional grime. She had long given up the idea of cleanliness - as a member of the Prophet's Chapter it was her duty to go places no other Chapter would venture and convert the locals, no matter how vile. Her holoshroud was allowing her to blend in disguised as one of these Vorcha creatures and the Dark Artefact implanted into her chest made the already weak minded creatures more susceptible to her influence. Already one tribe had appointed her their leader after she tore the previous leader's heart out and ate it in front of him. It was going well.
###
"Congratulations, Lieutenant Shepard!"
Laughing with glee, she threw herself at Garrus who caught her, spinning her round before setting her down.
"I'm so glad you managed to get leave to see my graduation."
"Wouldn't miss it. So when are you shipping out?"
"I've got about ten days before my orders come through. So how have you been, Centurion Vakarian?"
She easily fell into step beside Garrus, who subconsciously slowed his pace to allow her to keep up.
"Alright. Bit of a slow day. Did you hear the news about Vasir?"
She screwed up her face in thought.
"One of the guys mentioned the Council were throwing a fit about a missing Spectre. Don't see what all the fuss is about, they're always dropping off the grid."
"Apparently an anonymous merc group claimed they captured her."
"Pff. Yeah right. Spectres are practically invincible. Arterius got his arm eaten by a Chryssachae and it didn't even slow him down."
They walked on in silence for a few seconds, steering towards the hotel she was staying in for the night.
"So me and a couple of the lads were wondering ..."
"Mm?"
"You know Krogan have four balls?"
Garrus looked sideways at her.
"Yes. Where are you going with this?"
"How are they arranged?"
It took his brain a moment to process what she said.
"What?"
"I mean, are they two by two, or all in a line like a testicular Newton's Cradle, or maybe tetrahedral ..."
"If you're so desperate to know I'm sure there's plenty of educational material on Fornax. So, SEAL huh? Like Sol?"
She smirked at him.
"Subject well changed. Yeah, like Sol. How's she doing anyway?"
"Good. Just called last week, said she took out a nest of synthophobe radicals."
He slid his arm around her shoulders as she put hers round his waist.
"So, got any plans for tonight?"
"Alcohol and my best friend."
"Works for me."
###
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR SQUEAMISH READERS
"How are you today, Miss Vasir?"
Tela Vasir awoke abruptly and was instantly aware that she was in trouble. She was naked, cuffed to a hard metal chair with biotic inhibitors on her palms and forehead and an automatic turret set up in front of her, chaingun humming merrily. Sitting in a chair behind the turret, her feet propped up on a stool and a long blade in her hand, was a strange Asari-looking creature with bright green double pupilled eyes and markings on her face.
"Now then. You have some information we need. You will have one chance every ten days to tell me that information. As long as you are sitting in this chair you may speak freely."
Naturally, the Spectre took the opportunity to start ranting. The other Asari let her finish. It took almost ten minutes before Tela had run out of breath.
"If you're quite finished, we have a question for you. What is the connection between the Citadel Council and the Pure Daughters anti-AI radicals?"
"Fuck you, Suns whore."
"Very well. Theseus, Ulysses."
Tela hadn't even realised the two enormous Krogan with unformed silver crests were even there until they grabbed her. The cuffs unsnapped but before she could do anything a long needle had punched into her side, straight into her left ofola. The ofola was an Asari organ that appeared as a long, coiled tube around a central organ about the size of a tennis ball, serving the function of kidney, liver and part of the digestive system. The needle stabbed straight into the central part of the organ, making her shriek in pain as the contents of the syringe were deposited into her body. The biotic inhibitors came off her but her ability to control dark energy was still terrifyingly absent. Must have injected a biotic blocker.
The two Krogan roughly slammed her to the floor, pinning her on her front as a Salarian in a labcoat wheeled a gurney into the room.
"Up onto the trolley on her front, please, and secure her."
She was hauled up and repositioned on the gurney, quickly strapped down despite her struggles.
"Run decontamination protocol and inject paralytic."
She turned her head to look at the green eyed Asari as the paralytic drug froze her nervous system. If she could have, she would have shuddered in revulsion as a green hand stroked lightly over her crests.
"The Suns pretty much control Omega's organised crime, including the organ trade. You know, you have a very common blood type and two very healthy ofola. You're going to make two sick Asari very happy."
Tela didn't figure out what she meant until the scalpel cut into her back.
###
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR SQUEAMISH READERS
Dakar Hego hummed a rapid Salarian tune to himself as he put the finishing touches to the Asari lying on the gurney. Despite being paralysed she could still breathe, but luckily her screams had subsided into whimpers. Shifting his forceps around he grabbed one of the severed tubes and fed it into the metal eye, using a skin scaffold to secure the metal into her side. In all there were seven essential tubes leading into each ofola, necessitating seven eyes to be implanted in each side of the back, lining up nicely with the seven connectors on each side of the rig.
"And done. Okay, bring down the harness."
A recessed hatch in the ceiling slid open, revealing a metal rig that descended on thick steel cables to hover just over the stricken Spectre. Dakar tugged the rig down the rest of the way with one hand, lining it up even as he sponged the violet blood off Vasir's back with his other.
"Hmm. I think we'll use the sixteens. The twenties would probably shatter her pelvis. She's quite petite."
He loaded up the boltgun with sixteen centimetre nails and stretched Vasir's limbs out until they fit in the rig.
"Start with wrists and ankles, I think. Then knees and elbows, then hips and shoulders."
He lined up the boltgun with the first eyelet.
###
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR SQUEAMISH READERS
Liara walked over to the Spectre. With her limbs and torso nailed to a metal rack she definitely looked less threatening.
"Hook her up."
The Salarian doctor pulled the twin clusters of tubes down, lining them up with the two sets of eyes in her back and connecting them up, seven thick needles sliding into their sockets and taking over the function of the lost ofola that were even now sitting in cryostasis units off to the side.
"Hello Tela. Now, I'll just recap for you since a hotheaded Spectre such as yourself didn't listen in biology class. We have taken your ofola and replaced them with a machine that will filter your blood and provide you with intravenous nutrition as well as a steady supply of biotic inhibitor drugs. If you are ever separated from these tubes you will have about forty minutes before your blood toxicity increases beyond the maximum safe level, and a further twenty minutes before you slip into a coma. Now you're all set up, let's get the torture proper started now shall we?"
She produced a leather cap that fitted over the Spectre's head, covering her eyes, earholes and crests, and zipped up the back, blinding and deafening her. Then she tapped something on her Omnitool and an enormous needle aligned itself to hover ten centimetres above the Asari's neck.
"Switch it on."
Drip.
A single drop of water fell from the needle and splashed onto the back of Tela's neck as the rig receded, it and the needle, and their unwilling passenger, lifting smoothly into the air.
"See you in ten days Vasir."
###
"Come on Lizzie. Time to get you back to your room."
He was fairly certain somebody had spiked her drink.
"But I'm soooo hot, Garrus. I want to go swimming."
"You need sleep."
She leaned into him and gave a drunken chuckle.
"So do you. Sleepy time."
The elevator dinged and deposited them on the floor of Lizzie's room. He dragged her along the corridor and to the room, keying open the door.
"But I don't wanna!"
"Now, Lizzie."
With a theatrical sigh, she stomped three steps into the room, then tripped and fell flat on her face. He rushed over to her.
"Are you alright?"
She rolled over onto her back and started pulling at her shirt, mumbling to herself.
"Uh ... what are you doing?"
"Too hot."
She shrugged her shirt off, then started pulling at her tank top, lifting it over her shoulders.
"Lizzie?"
She peeled her sports bra off her chest and then froze, the bottoms of her breasts visible out from under the clingy white material. She looked at him and he could see the sheen of sweat covering her hard, sinewy body.
"Garrus? I'm way too hot."
He caught her as she collapsed, muttering curses under his breath as he carried her to the bathroom. She was panting like an overheating Vorcha, heat rolling off her body in waves. He dumped her unceremoniously in the shower and switched it on full blast, making sure the water was ice cold. She shrieked and curled up as the cold water hit her, cooling her skin and soaking her clothes.
"Cold! Too cold!"
He reached in and hauled her out of the shower, feeling her shiver and press up against him.
"Mm. You're warm."
He plucked one of the fluffy white bathrobes off the bathroom door and wrapped her in it, dragging her to the bed and raising the sheets for her to slide under them. He turned to leave.
"Don't go."
Her grip on his hand was surprisingly strong. Looking back at her, he saw absolute certainty in her eyes.
"Stay. Please."
With her other hand she patted the bed beside her. He thought about leaving but the pleading in her voice was impossible to ignore. Sighing, he clambered into the bed next to her, feeling her curl up beside him and rest her head on his shoulder.
"You know, there's this guy called Garrus."
Spirits, she doesn't even know who I am anymore. I should leave.
"He's been my best friend, like, forever. But I really like him, you know, as more than a friend."
Those words made Garrus stop short and listen.
"He's kind and funny and clever and I know it's weird to be attracted to a Turian because they're all hard and spiky but I'm not attracted to a Turian, I love Garrus ..."
Her voice trailed off.
"That's you, isn't it."
He was unable to reply for a moment, eventually managing a strangled yes.
"Crap. Night night Garrus."
Then she fell asleep. Garrus turned his head so her hair nestled under his chin. There wasn't anything to say.
###
Drip.
By counting her heartbeats Tela had figured out there was exactly fifty four seconds between each drip.
Drip.
The pain had faded hours ago, her entire body numb save from the dripping of water onto the back of her neck.
Drip.
She had no idea where she was. She was alone with her racing thoughts and the droplets of water.
Drip.
She was completely immobilised, not able to move a single muscle. She wasn't even breathing. She assumed the tubes that had replaced her ofola were oxygenating her blood.
Drip.
The water torture slowly, steadily eroded her will to resist.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
###
In the inky blackness of space a window opened. The window was small, the roiling red ring only wide enough to accommodate a tiny sliver of a ship. The three rocky shards that passed through the portal lit off their main drives, fiery glow pushing them towards their intended targets.
Khar'Shan's defence grid didn't even see the three lithocutters approaching the planet. As the cutters slipped into the atmosphere they deployed kilometre wide, gossamer thin wings that allowed them to slowly glide undetected down and into the cities of the Batarian Hegemomy.
The three Prophets inside the cutters checked their holoshrouds, disguising their forms as Batarian nobles, the Dark Artefacts throbbing with the power of suggestion.
###
When Lizzie awoke her head was pounding and her tongue felt matted with a carpet of fur.
"Ugh ..."
Her neural net cheerfully informed her that it was scrubbing her bloodstream of toxins as she cracked open one eye. Memory started to seep back from last night - her drink's bitter aftertaste, light-headedness and being dragged back to the hotel by Garrus, then being thrown into the shower to snap her out of whatever ... Garrus. Shit.
Her eye registered a sloping view of a Turian chest up close. Without his shirt on Garrus's plates were a greyish brown colour, a central ridge surrounded by interlocking plates that were utterly alien yet undeniably familiar. Just seeing them made her feel safe.
Garrus stirred, his arm reflexively tightening around her before relaxing again. His piercing blue eyes opened and focused on the ceiling, then he bent his face down to the head of red hair nestled on his chest.
"Sleep well?"
She glanced up at him, her own eyes almost as blue as his.
"Uh ... I reckon I should address what happened last night ..."
She was cut off as Garrus tightened his grip around her.
"Is it true that you feel that way?"
There was a long pause.
"... Yes."
"Then you should probably know ... I feel the same way about you."
###
The Salarian's eyes bulged as slim blue fingers gripped his throat. Samara slapped the SMG out of his hands as he tried to bring it to bear, then broke his wrist as he reached for his Omnitool, all the while keeping her hand around his thin neck.
"Tell me. What was the name of the ship the Eclipse used to smuggle her offworld?"
The Salarian merely clawed at her arm with one hand, the broken wrist limply hanging at his side.
"Your life hangs on the answer."
The Eclipse Engineer's jaw worked for a moment then he went limp in her arms. She dropped the body, letting it fall at her feet and stepping over it as he walked towards the door.
"Justicar Samara?"
She turned to the source of the voice.
"I am Samara, a servant of the Justicar Code."
"Agent Cachco-Hchavari, KGB."
An unusually small Raachok stepped out of the shadows.
"I understand you are seeking the Ardat-Yakshi known as Morinth?"
"What is your interest in Morinth?"
The Raachok glanced at his Omnitool, as if considering something, then activated it.
"We found CCTV footage linking her to several high profile deaths on Bekenstein. Seems like someone's using her as an assassin. Our two investigations are now pursuing the same person."
"Are you suggesting a partnership?"
"Yes. I am."
###
Miranda reached a hand out and grabbed the person's wrist as they passed her hiding place. The unfortunate individual didn't even have time to squawk in surprise before Miranda was plunging her knife into his neck.
The mark gurgled, feebly trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hands. Not bothering to wait until he was dead, Miranda rifled through his pockets. A couple of credit chits, a handful of empty sweet wrappers, a photo of a girl and ... jackpot. Two hits of red sand. She could sell those to the Sliders. Each one would buy her at least a week of food. The man finally expired as she fished a chocolate bar out of his bag and unwrapped it, just pausing to smell the bar before taking a bite.
The flavours spread across her tongue, rich dark chocolate and hints of orange, bringing a near orgasmic surge of pleasure. It must have been at least a year since she had tasted chocolate. Moaning aloud in ecstasy, she wrapped up the rest of the bar and put it back into the man's coat pocket before stripping the coat off the corpse. Her previous coat was an old ratty brown rag she had taken off a dead Jack about a year ago and it needed replacing. The mark's coat was pretty nice, all things considered. A little large for her but she'd take it.
The next thing she did was check over the credit chits. Sixty five credits. A solid haul. Credits weren't worth squat down in the Foundation but there was a crooked tat parlour on West Avenue that did gangers in the basement. That was the way it worked in the Foundation - the more tattoos you have, the more people leave you alone. Tattoos were, after all, the mark of someone tough enough to get the creds they need for ink. Miranda already had both her arms covered in ink and she also had a string of skulls round her neck - one for every life she took. Thus far the count stood at ten and reached almost halfway round her throat.
"Miranda Lawson?"
She spun on her heel, knife instinctively raised as she reached for the biotics that hadn't been there since her amp was stolen on her third day on the run.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The stranger walked up to her, his steps light and powerful. He was a killer.
"My name is Kai Leng. My employer would like to speak with you."
###
The Sword of the Citadel was an amazing ship. At almost two kilometres long she fit the Earth bloc dreadnought category, four HR motors descending on a spur beneath her fuselage, surface studded with proton beam emplacements and protected by proton shielding. Her design was far more streamlined than other Turian ships and her AI, Gladian, made her far more effective in combat than even her impressive weapons and defences would suggest. She was part weapon of war, part work of art and part statement of friendship.
Tevos hated the ship.
The Sword had been completed at the same time as the Destiny Transcendant, the Asari super-dreadnought designed to replace the Ascension as the Council flagship. She had been shocked when the Turians had submitted the Sword as a competitor to the Transcendant. Naturally she had voted for the Transcendant and Luceius had voted for the Sword. What had really turned her shock to outright disbelief was when Murtok had voted for the Sword. His reasoning was sound - eezo based ships weren't really scalable and the Transcendant, despite its enormous size, was barely an improvement on the Ascension - but it still rattled her. That damnable AI's words from all those years ago came back to haunt her.
You've grown too comfortable on the top of the pile.
It was true. For two thousand years the Asari had been the dominant race in the galaxy and now that was starting to change. The Earth bloc had thrown the balance of power into disarray. It would be acceptable, preferable even, if the Turians and the Humans had gone to war and hated each other for it.
She had seen the future. The future had a fringe and mandibles. For the first time in recorded history the Asari councillor wasn't the most powerful individual in the galaxy. So she hated the Sword and all it represented.
Who were these Earth bloc powers anyway? Upstarts new to the galaxy, barely two centuries since they had first tasted vacuum, rocking the boat like an excited child oblivious to the damage they were causing until it was too late. She had liked having the Quarians as exiles and the Geth as the galaxy's boogeymen. Now Geth Primes were parading up and down the Presidium with Quarian kids on their shoulders. She had liked having the Turians as the Council's attack dogs. Now they were thinking for themselves and couldn't be counted on for unflinching loyalty. She had liked the Batarian Hegemony being the puppet power used to justify their military expenditure. Now they were tearing themselves into shreds in the sixth year of a civil war that was only getting bloodier.
The fact of the matter was that she was afraid of the changes to the galaxy. A fear that was turning into anger, anger starting to manifest as hate. That path didn't lead anywhere good.
###
"Chieftain Wrex?"
"What."
"An offworlder is here to see you."
"Who is it?"
"A Krogan with a strange smell."
"Probably a Citadel pyjak."
Wrex leaned back in his rocky throne. Six years ago he had gained the favour of the Blue Suns and it was an allegiance he was reaping the benefits of. The Blood Pack were only holding on in Clan Weyrloc, the remainder of the clans being united, forcibly or not, under Urdnot. In return Wrex supplied the Suns with Krogan recruits that would be trained not just as Krogan Warriors but as soldiers. Wrex had seen the way the Suns commanders like Zaeed Massani, Jentha May or that Asari he had brought to the Suns, Scarlet Ocean (clearly a false name) used their squads like surgeons, each soldier moving with calculated precision, wiping out positions that could have withstood a full company of charging Krogan. The holdout clans and the traditionalists could rant about Wrex selling out to the aliens but none of them could deny Urdnot warriors that had served with the Suns were brutally effective, not because they were physically superior but because they could use their heads for more than a blunt instrument.
"Show the offworlder in."
The offworlder Krogan was led in by two of the Overguard, the elite force of warriors charged with the protection of the rapidly expanding underground city of Urdnot. For the first time in almost two thousand years the Krogan were building, with Suns assistance constructing vast networks of tunnels, clearing rubble and shoring up crumbling ruins. Like almost everything, the image of Krogan walking through clean, intact structures was an expression of Wrex's newfound power.
"Warlord Wrex. I come bearing ..."
"What are you?"
He got up and walked around the offworlder, sniffing.
"You're not Krogan. I can smell it. So what are you?"
The offworlder merely stared.
"Answer."
The image of the green crested Krogan before him wavered, then disappeared in a flash of light. When Wrex's eyes equilibrated again all that was left was a smoking black sphere on the ground that radiated a sense of wrong. He raised a foot and crunched the device beneath his armoured tread.
"Find the offworlder's ship. I want to know everything about him."
The Overguard warriors nodded and hefted their shotguns, heading out to the landing fields. Wrex leaned back in his throne, hand under chin. Then he made a call.
"Pasana? Tell Massani I have something of interest."
###
It was the third day of their leave.
"Look, Lizzie, I really don't know about this."
She sighed and rested a hand on his chest.
"I want to make this, us work. I guess I'd feel better knowing we've done some research."
"I see what you mean. But really? Is this the way to go about it?"
She sighed.
"It took me long enough to convince myself, but I really think it would help, you know, get things started."
"I just don't want this to turn into a horrible interspecies awkwardness thing."
"Hush. No more arguing. Let's just get this over with."
They leaned back into the pillows as Lizzie pressed the remote, turning on the ceiling mounted vid screen above the bed. The title screen of the vid popped up.
Confessions of a Xenophile 21: Belle and Derian
"I can't believe you convinced me to watch interspecies porn with you."
###
A/N: Extra long chapter to get us going in Innocence Lost.