Chapter 8: No Good Deed
Garrus returned to consciousness slowly. He heard voices, but he could not understand what they were saying. He knew he recognized one but he could not recall from where.
Then he realized the voices belonged to salarians, asari and the one he knew was the voice of Executor Palin. Then he noticed the headache.
Garrus wondered if maybe he drank too much last night because he felt like he had the worst hangover in his life. He was beginning to be aware of the light behind his eyelids, or rather, how the light was irritating his eyes through his eyelids. He realized he was laying down and on something hard, probably a floor. Maybe he had passed out on the floor of a bar again.
He moved his arm and covered his eyes with it. The salarian voices grew more excited. Garrus wished they would go away and let him lie here in peace on this nice, hard, cold floor. He felt he deserved it after those weird Protoform cornered him and tried to convince him they have a whole civilization… before hitting him with something that felt like it set his brain on fire... when did he go to the bar...?
Garrus groaned and sat up, and rubbed his eyes with both hands. One felt like it was in armor while the other one didn't. He opened his eyes. His right hand was missing its gauntlet. Looking up his arm, his saw that his right pauldron had been removed as well and his underclothes had been torn off exposing his shoulder which was covered in a layer of what looked like dried blood but was far too shiny. He rubbed it and it flaked off easily, and his shoulder did not ache from the touch. He rubbed it all off and found light scarring underneath instead of a bullet wound.
"So, you awake," a salarian voice said behind him.
Garrus turned around and saw a group of armed salarians, all of which he would bet his training on being STG, behind an active mass effect curtain. A quick look at his surroundings revealed that he was in a plain, white, unfurnished cell and the curtain closed off the only way in and out. He couldn't see either Executor Palin or any asari anywhere despite being sure he had heard them earlier.
"We were not expecting you to take so long to do so," the salarian at the front of the group said, "we were expecting you to wake in route or earlier."
"How long was I out?" Garrus asked as he stood up.
"Approximately ten minutes."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"Felt longer."
"Your healing was fascinating to watch, I have never seen flesh simply knit itself back together. It would be incredible if we could replicate it."
Garrus blinked in confusion. "So, none of you did this?" he asked, gesturing towards his shoulder.
"Your attempt at maintaining your disguise is amusing but pointless. We all know what you are, there is no reason to hide it."
"What?"
"Is it that you will not cease this façade until the truth is announced?" the salarian asked. "Very, well. We all know that you are a Protoform, though I believe you call yourselves 'Hyoo-mons,' yes?"
"What?"
"Really, must you?" the salarian sighed. "It was all in the datapad we found beside you. If you wanted to make diplomatic contact to begin paying reparations, there are official channels for that."
"What… are you talking about?"
"Reparations for the trillions of lives your kind have killed and the garden worlds you have ravaged. It is the only way if you want to avoid war with the Council. I imagine the Terminus may join in for your activities in their space as well. Divulging the secret behind your rapid healing would be an excellent start."
"I am not a Protoform," Garrus said.
"Your disguise is incredible. All of our scans say that you are turian Spectre Garrus Vakarian. I am personally curious how that works."
"I am Garrus Vakarian. I'm not a Protoform!"
"Turians do not heal from bullet wounds in minutes, only krogan and vorcha do. And Protoform, sorry, 'hyoo-mons.' You are not fooling anyone."
"This can't be happening. I must be having a drunken nightmare or something…" Garrus mumbled to himself.
"Your kind can become intoxicated?" the salarian asked cheerfully, "Fascinating! On what chemicals might I ask?"
Garrus resisted the urge to bury his face in his hand and simply stared at the salarian in disbelief.
"Not interested in telling? Oh well, then how about as a different question? Can you tell me about this world you call 'De-rt?' Clever of you to flee the Quarantined System before the Council could find it. I suppose that is how you managed to wreak so much havoc across Citadel Space."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh yes, you claim that those are a rogue group, and the reason you fled your homeworld. 'Ert,' you call it? Short, but I suppose you wouldn't call it any of the many words for "place where demons come from" like the rest of the galaxy. What does the name mean in your language?"
"I really, really don't know what you are talking about. Look, Captain Balak and his men are Protoform, not me. You got to locate them before they eat somebody…" Garrus started.
"Where is the captain? He and his men managed to completely vanish by the time we found you. We will give you something if you tell us where he disappeared too, and how."
"You think I know? I don't know! And I am not a Protoform!" Garrus shouted.
"You don't know? Shame, I was going to give you some texts on galactic history. Judging by the datapad you dropped, you are quite the history scholar aren't you?"
"I barely passed history in school, sorry."
"Your people's standards on the subject are that high?" The salarian brought a hand up to one of his ear holes. "Oh, you are still persisting in your disguise. Yes, Vakarian barely managed to pass his history classes didn't he?"
"I am Garrus Vakarian. I don't know how my shoulder is healed, but I am not a Protoform."
"How do you do imitate other species so well? You can mimic so much, and yet not enough. You somehow gain passcodes and other information, but you don't get everything, like tics and habits and preferences. Your physiology is an almost perfect match for those you imitate, but you have never have biotics no matter what you are pretending to be. Although according to the datapad, I suppose that is not entirely the case since it says you have biotics of your own. So, I would guess that your ability to consume other species has some similar utilities to the asari melding process, except eezo is not necessary. How do you manage it without eezo, I wonder?"
Garrus groaned and held his head in his hands from the image that popped into his head. He could have gone through life without that. Preferred it actually.
"Why don't you take your true form? From the data you left your true appearance is not terribly grotesque. Honestly, I believe most of the galaxy was expecting something that resembled a thresher maw or an amphorous mass, not an asari."
"I am not a Protoform," Garrus said, tiredly.
The salarian sighed. "I suppose you are not going to speak the truth at this time. I'll come back later and see if you are more cooperative." Then the salarian turned and left with the others soon behind him, leaving Garrus alone in the plain, white empty cell.
********************No Good Deed: End *******************
Talk for reader:
Garrus is still not infected.
How is my grammar? Improved? Worse?