Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Mass Effect, Bioware, Washington D.C., Knights Armament Company, or a life.
A/N: ...
February 24th, 2183. 8 P.M.
Normandy SR-1, en-route to the Citadel.
"Cory."
"Huh." I reply, not looking up right away.
"What do you think?"
"Oh, um.. Detailed. Location, staffing, building layout. Almost too detailed."
"Like somebody wanted us to know all of this." Shepard says, matching my thoughts.
"Maybe." I say, rubbing my eyes. "Truth be told, I don't have the energy to ponder this. Let's get some rest." He nods, and we go our separate ways.
(Tali)
The feeling of loss permeates the ship. Engineering is devoid of the usual cheer, jokes, and chatter that echoes through it when they aren't on their so-called "Inspection behavior". It isn't long before I leave, energy drained. I'm making my way to the elevator when I see them.
Cory and Garrus are at Ashley's workstation, heads bowed as music echoes throughout the Cargo Bay.
"... Their tears are filling up their glasses,
No expression,
No expression.
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow,
No tomorrow,
No tomorrow."
The somber tone continues as I stand next to Cory, his head tilting up to look at me briefly. I take note of the pictures on the bench; one of Kaiden in the mess making a face at Shepard, the other showing a younger Ashley in Alliance fatigues, standing proud next to some younger Human girls. 'Her sisters'. I bow my head as the song continues, the vigil lasting for a few minutes after the music ends. Slowly, Cory raises his head and walks to the elevator, Garrus and myself close behind. The descent is quiet, save for Garrus looking from me to Cory, and then back.
Regardless of the odd behavior, we return to our respective rooms without conversation. I sit opposite Cory as he starts untying his boots, kicking them off with little care for where they land. I look to the leather bracer laying on my nightstand. "Cory?"
"Hmm?" He mumbles, looking at me.
"I've been meaning to ask... Why did you leave that with me?" I ask, motioning towards it.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention." He says, undoing the two silver bracers on his arms before removing his jacket. "I want you to have it, and learn how to use it."
"Oh. Why?"
"It's served me well over the years, and I think that with practice, You'll come to master it too. It's close-quarters abilities are unparalleled." He says, an almost salesman-like tone in his voice.
"Well, that would hold true... If it fit." I bring up, and he frowns.
"True." He yawns quietly. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Should be at the Citadel by morning. Goodnight, Tali." He adds.
"Goodnight."
I come to, soft music playing in the room. Something instrumental, relaxed. Good thing Cory seems to also enjoy sleeping with background noise. Trying to sleep with the quiet was maddening.
But I'm the only one who's rest was peaceful. I see him shifting about, an expression of terror and pain on his face. I want to wake him, but he lurches up before I have a chance, chest heaving a bit. He scans the room a bit, still half-asleep. He squeezes his eyes shut, his breathing slowing down. He shifts into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes as I sit up. "Morning."
"Morning," I reply tentatively. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing out of the usual," He mumbles, Checking his Omni-Tool. "We should be at the Citadel now. Shepard's at Huerta Memorial," He adds, scrolling through something. "We're gonna be here for a while, while he speaks with the Alliance and the Council. Political BS, in his words." He says with a smile. "Hmm, I know. Tali, You want to start using that bracer, yeah?" I nod. "Then we'll head to my friend Granith. He'll be able to fit it properly while I check over my gear. After that we could visit Ashley. Sound good?"
"Hmm," I consider it. "Okay, that could work. It would be nice to be able to walk around the Citadel without getting harassed."
"Pffft." He blurts out. "Only reason I'm bringing you along is so I have a bodyguard. You intimidate people." I snort a bit before I'm able to get it under control.
"Yeah, of course. This isn't going to end horribly. Not at all."
"Shit." Cory mutters, looking at the C-Sec holo-banner in front of the store. "What happened here?" He addresses an officer standing by a Sky-Car.
"Attempted robbery." The Turian woman replies.
"Granith okay?" He asks.
"The Krogan? He's fine. Couldn't say the same about the thief," She motions toward the ambulance, a body bag being loaded into it. "You a friend?"
"Yeah." Cory replies. "Can we head in?"
"Sure, we're just about done here." She looks away a moment before taking a closer look at Cory. "Wait," She stops him. "Do I know you from somewhere?" He looks vaguely nervous as she squints at him, and then something clicks as her eyes widen. Just as I'm sure she's reaching for her sidearm she- squeals?
Alarm bells ring in my head as the woman grabs something from inside the patrol vehicle. "Wow, I can't believe it's you!" She says to him. "Umm.. Could you sign this?" She asks him, holding up a piece of armor. "I'm a big fan of your music." Music? He takes the moment in stride, smiling and scribbling something down on the inside with a marker. "Thanks!" She says cheerfully, moving to place the gear back in the vehicle as Cory moves toward the store.
"What in the name of the Ancestors was that about?" I ask him as I catch up.
"I'll never tell." He chuckles, stepping past a leaving officer. Scorch marks adorn the left wall and floor, a stench lingering in the display room. A masked salarian scrubs at the wall as another is busy typing something at a terminal on a desk. "Hey guys. Granith in the back?" The man at the terminal nods, readjusting the chemical mask. We walk to the back of the store, stepping down into a small workshop.
"What's that smell?" I ask Cory as a Krogan stands from his workbench.
"Burnt flesh." The man answers, shaking Cory's hand as I switch off my olfactory sensors, trying hard not to gag. "Little Pyjak, should've known better than to try to steal from a weaponsmith. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I need access to my backup gear, grab some replacement parts. My friend here," He gestures to me as I try to recover. "Needs a bracer refitted." I hand Granith the item in question, and he gives Cory a strange look, but takes it to his bench.
"This, it won't take too long. But your gear is the warehouse, I didn't have much space here. I'll send for it, though. should be here in about 45 minutes."
"Good man." Cory says. "Are you okay staying here?" He asks me. "I need to take care of some things, but Granith will take good care of you, right?" He adds, addressing the man.
"Of course." He says, waving him off.
He nods, stepping back into the front before I can say anything to counter. Granith motions for me to sit.
"So, you're the one wielding this now?" Is the first thing he asks me.
"I suppose so." I say uneasily, sitting down.
"Hmph." He takes hold of my arm, slipping the bracer on, and proceeds to take measurements. I fidget a bit, but none of the movements are aggressive or rough. He types down the numbers on a pad, looking back and forth at my arm and his measurements. "Cory is a strange human." He says quietly after several minutes.
"Hmm?"
He looks up at me. "This bracer," He holds it and the attached arm up slightly. "Is synonymous with his name. I believe his words on the matter were 'From my cold, dead hands.' when I asked him if he wanted me to take it and get something more advanced... And here you are, in possession of it."
"Is it really that special?" He considers it.
"He didn't give you something like this as a random gesture. In the old Krogan culture, A weapon that is so stained with blood, is only given to your child to bear in their Rite and beyond, or..." He trails off.
"Rite?" I ask him, and he focuses again.
"The Rite of Passage." He says. "Proof that a Krogan is strong enough to survive, and live among his clan. Either that, or a partner." I stiffen a bit, and he continues. "Not like that. A hunting partner, back when Krogans were not bound by clans and warfare. My grandfather spoke of it fondly, a time where you could live off the land comfortably. I was young then, I didn't appreciate what that was. By the time I took my Rite, the Krogan were already embroiled in our endless wars.
"Anyways, the old hunters would have a partner, someone they trusted with their life. A weapon or tool with great meaning would be given to this partner, and by accepting it, the pact was sealed. They would defend each other with their dying breaths." He takes in a breath, and something catches my attention.
"Granith," I start. "The way you speak of these things... How old are you?"
"Old enough to remember what Quarians look like." He shrugs a bit. "Old enough to remember a time before the Salarians found us, when our world was coated in irradiated ash. Most Krogan will tell you of the Rachni War, and the Betrayal. But they forget that we wanted more than we earned. That for our brutality and violence we were chosen to fight their war. We weren't ready for that amount of power; we hadn't learned from our mistakes. And we still refuse to.
"Okay, that should do it." He says, removing the bracer from my arm. "I'll get this re-adjusted to the measurements I took. Won't be long. I hope you'll forgive my rambling, Tali'Zorah."
"It was quite interesting, actually." I say honestly.
"Hmm. Well, in any case, I may just be and old man romanticizing an old weapon, and the gesture doesn't mean much. I'm less sure about Human culture, but I know they're closer aligned with us than anyone the Council recognizes as people." The statement is strange, but he doesn't offer any further explanation. "You should go and find Cory." He says suddenly.
"Why?"
"He should be on Bachjret, 221st and Saema." He replies, not answering my question. He turns his back to me, setting the bracer down on the counter. With little else to do, I follow the idea and head out of the store to Rapid Transit.
The first thing I take notice of when I step out is the dinginess of the area. The Citadel is a gleaming metropolis, but this area of the industrial-heavy Ward feels... Neglected, ignored by those on the presidium. As I near the address Granith gave me, I realize there's no businesses here, or residences. Only storage facilities, with large lift gates and security doors. It's behind one of these doors that I hear something, the chatter of several high-pitched voices.
I'm standing too close to it, as I jump away when it swings open, revealing Cory's surprised face. "Tali. The hell are you doing here?" He asks me, quickly shutting the door behind him.
"Granith sent me." I reply. "What are you doing here?"
"Friggen turtle..." He grumbles. "Always has to mess with me." I'm about to ask him again, when the door opens a crack.
"Cory?" A small, blonde-haired Human boy inquires, poking his head out. "Who's this?" Cory freezes a moment, then recovers.
"This is Tali, a friend of mine. Tali," He addresses me hesitantly. "This is Graham."
"Hi!" The boy waves to me. "Come on in." The boy disappears behind it, and I follow him, an uncomfortable look in Cory's eyes as I step inside.
I'm greeted by a sight that gets sadder the more I look. More than a dozen children, Humans, Asari, and one Turian, none older than 16, are gathered around in the dimly-lit storage room, eating and passing the time however they can. I look at the dolly and crates stacked next to the door, and back to Cory. His eyes are focused on one of the girls, a Human who couldn't be but six or seven.
"These kids." Cory begins. "Were cursed from the start. Broken homes, parents who either died, or didn't care about their kids. Some of them, they were born here or moved with their parents. When they end up alone, C-Sec won't let them stay. Either they're placed back on the homeworlds, or end up in the worst parts of the Galaxy. They end up in the hands of monsters, the kind of places where death is a mercy. And even if they end up back on the homeworlds, life is a nightmare. If they end up in the system on Earth, their fates are sealed. Violence and vice get their hooks in, almost every time. It isn't much better on Thessia, and for that boy," He points to the Turian boy. "It means a life of military service, payment for his care. The kid doesn't have an aggressive bone in his body." He shakes his head a bit.
"So, these kids stay hidden on the Citadel?" I ask.
"Well, they slip through the cracks, ending up in places like these." He looks around. "The conditions aren't great, but they're better off here then living the same life elsewhere. Even the poor on the Citadel don't do too badly. For the most part, they go ignored, performing odd jobs and gathering information."
"Information?"
"Yeah, gutter kids don't attract too much attention. Means they can hear things other don't. They exchange this with certain people around the Citadel. Criminals, mostly. The irony of this is that most legitimate information brokers try to exploit these kids. The "bad guys" like myself have been straightforward with them."
"So the food crates, the medicine. Payment?" He shakes his head.
"I've been giving them that, regardless of what they can or can't provide. Keeps them from getting desperate. There are over 20 camps similar to this, scattered throughout the Wards. this one is pretty average. The older kids do their best to teach the younger ones how to read, type, how to present themselves for when they eventually get beyond this kind of life."
"Ancestors, how could the Council just ignore this sort of thing?"
"You and I both know the Council is very good at ignoring anything that might put a smudge on their perfect, shiny world. " He says bitterly. "This is just standard for them. A few people around here help out when they can. A nearby Human-run clinic checks up on them, keeps them pretty healthy. There's a Salarian professor from Tayseri Ward that gives the older ones teaching supplies, text-pads of every subject. A few others here and there. It's not much, but better than them burying their heads."
"How do I know you persuaded them on those matters?" I ask him wryly.
"I just opened their eyes. They volunteered to help once they knew the extent of the problem." He waves to a few of the kids, before heading outside, motioning for me to follow.
"I didn't know you cared this much." I tell him as we walk back to Rapid Transit.
"They strike a cord with me." He says quietly, calling up a cab.
"Who was that girl you kept looking back at, the one with the brown hair?" A dark look crosses his face.
"You really wanna know?" I nod. "That was Millie."
"But who is she?" He doesn't speak right away, ushering me into the now-waiting sky-car. We set the destination back to Tuchanka Arms, and Cory activates his Omni-Tool, scanning the car. Seemingly satisfied with the results, he begins.
"Two years ago, I was on contract here on the Citadel. A Sand dealer was expanding, taking profits out of her rival's market. Job came in to make an example of her. I didn't think of it much then, just a dealer taking out another." He leans into his seat, closing his eyes. "I kept going over that night in my head, wondering if I could've noticed something, acted differently. Not that it matters now.
"When I started doing this, I appraised every job; who I was after, who wanted it done, whether they deserved it. Passed up a good amount of work because it felt off. As time passed, I just took the word of my handler."
"Handler?" I ask.
"The jobs were all routed through the Shadow Broker and his people." He explains. "I was recruited directly, but the jobs after that were through an agent. The Shadow Broker is only hands on with things that are critical to his business. Or that could net him a lot of money.
"So, I stopped looking into my jobs as much. planned out the attack, prepped for it, but I stopped asking why. Went to her apartment unarmed, posed as a junkie looking for a hit. Something I did or said spooks her last second, because she pulls a shotgun and tells me to get out. I push it up and away, and she fires it into the ceiling as I tackle her. I knock it away, but she struggles to grab it again. I get my arms around her head from behind as she gets a grip on it, and I jerk. It takes me a few moments to realize someone was looking at me from the door to the bedroom."
"Millie." My heart clenches.
"No," He says. "Her sister, Angelica. Fourteen at the time. Sees me hunched over her mom, goes for the shotgun. I bolt, and she couldn't get a shot off by the time I'd made it to the stairs. She was half-asleep, but I figured I was done. No favor I'd earned with the Council would erase an eyewitness. They'd finally have a bulletproof case, and I wasn't going to kill a kid."
"So what happened?"
"It went unsolved. Whatever description she gave of the junkie that murdered her mom, it wasn't close to me, or C-Sec didn't look too hard for the murderer of a dealer. The girls didn't have other family, so they eventually slipped through the cracks. Angelica shacked up with some piece of shit dealer, same guy who wanted their mom dead. He ended up getting her hooked on pharmaceuticals. Didn't matter to her, as long as Millie was safe.
"But she wasn't. Angelica overdosed on pills about a year ago, and the asshole tossed Millie to the street crowd. She's been here ever since. When I found out, I started keeping tabs on her. Made sure she was looked after, the others too." He exhales deeply, head in his hands a moment before he continues.
"I tore that family apart, for a guy who used and abused the scattered pieces. Let me tell you something, Tali. For all this galaxy holds, Humans are the most pointlessly cruel of the bunch. Krogan may strike down their enemies as a show of strength. Turians will strike down their enemies to instill order. Batarians will beat their slaves to show dominance. But Humans? They'll kill for almost no reason at all."
"What happened to the dealer?"
"What always happens to his kind." He doesn't deliberate further, and makes to get out as soon as the sky-car touches down.
"Wait." He hesitates, looking back at me. "Why tell me all of this? What am I meant to think of it?" I ask him.
"Why? Because you asked." He exits the car, motioning for me to do the same. We start walking back to Granith's as he continues. "Nobody's ever tried to figure it out. I don't really have reason to lie to you, and I lie to most everyone." He chuckles a moment, before continuing. " Think of it what you will. And if you're gonna turn me in, at least wait until we finish our work. there's still some good I can do." It was the furthest thing from my mind until he says it aloud, but I can understand the concern. "Do you think of me as evil?" He asks suddenly.
'Evil?' I think of what he's done, the killing, the darkness that surrounds his being... And I see the kindness; Feeding starving children, working so hard to save Ashley, a person he thoroughly disliked. Risking himself to protect me not once, but several times, twice when he didn't even know me. Even if he stood to gain from these things... No, not evil.
"You don't have to say anything." He says, making me realize I went silent for the remainder of the trip there. "My sins will catch up to me, eventually. When the time comes, I'll walk with the Reaper in silence." We walk in, the statement hanging over us.
Most of the clean-up is complete, enough so that the smell has mostly dissipated. The shop workers now busy themselves with making sure the shop is ready to operate again, powering up the adverts and raising the window shutters. Granith waves us into the back, pointing towards the wall whilst he motions for me to sit. Placed against the wall are three crates, the first of which is wider and shorter than the others. "You're an asshole, old man." The Krogan just chuckles as Cory goes to the crates.
Granith fits the leather bracer to my arm again."You should be good to go." He tells me. I flex experimentally, the blade shooting out between my fingers. I look at the flat of it, reading the inscription.
"Work in darkness, to serve the light."
A/N: Hey everyone. Next chapter is about done, and will go up soon.
Two years now. When I started this story, I was in a shitty place in my life. Writing this put me back on the right track. So, thank you everyone who's stuck by it so far, and my thanks to those of you who messaged me and made this story better than I could on my own. Supporting myself has been a time-consuming experience, to say the least, but I'm still here, still writing when I can. With luck, that'll never change.
Cheers, Artyom.