Pt. 2 Degrees of Trust
1120 Hours, Tuesday, January 14, 2183 / En Route to Tortuga, Hispaniola System, Santa Maria Cluster, Nemean Abyss / 3 years, 4 months, 9 days Pre Reaper invasion of Earth
"Have you got anything new for us, Batha?" Was my immediate question upon entry to the med deck on the small corvette Cerberus had deployed to fly myself, and my assets wherever we needed to go.
"Rrgh," Came the guttural growl of a daunting, ever-vigilant krogan in the corner of the compartment. His orange eyes narrowed threateningly beneath his grizzled head plate at the sight of me approaching his lifelong asari companion.
Despite the fact that not two days before, Jacob and I had saved their lives by offering extraction and refuge from what had become an experimental batarian prison, the krogan mercenary had proven slow to trust- not that I blamed him. However, his personal investment in his role as the asari doctor's guard- on top of the budding stereotypes of his species' behavior- made me weary of the probability that he could prove to be a liability to our mission. Batha was the sole individual capable of settling his outwardly aggressive nature. Thankfully, she seemed to have faith in her rescuers.
"Hush, Nax," She cooed with a smile that put the krogan at perfect ease.
Jacob Taylor had merely been the first of several recruits I had picked up for this particular mission.
We had run into Doctor Batha and her irritable friend Nax in the middle of his own rescue attempt on Ahn'Kedar Orbital Platform. Ahn'Kedar had been the first of three leads I had chosen to investigate.
Several doctors and scientists had gone missing from stations near the Batarian Fringe. I couldn't imagine it was a mere coincidence, and my instincts had yet again been proven correct upon arrival.
Batarians in the Outer Rim had supposedly fallen tragically ill to a new, unknown super bug. Entire populations had been exterminated. Only communicable in high concentrations, it could incubate quickly and thus far had a 100% mortality rate. In an effort to devise a cure for what could only be a biological weapon, they had kidnapped a multitude of brilliant minds to devise a cure. And many, like Batha, had chosen to stay in an act of good conscience. Their efforts were not entirely in vain.
"The prototype cure has nearly been synthesized," She explained, flicking through her notes. Her soft, sea foam tinged features were drawn, and purplish circles lined the rims of her eyes. The news that the batarians in favor of separatism would likely use the blood plague to assassinate Jath'Amon and his entourage had made her anxious to draw a conclusion. "But, I'll need a large store of element zero to complete it. There weren't any leftover caches at the lab on Ahn'Kedar, and your mass effect drive doesn't exactly have any to spare. We'll need to find some soon."
"What do we need element zero for?"
I turned to see Jacob trudging down the stairs into the med bay with a cup of coffee in his hands. Wiggling his way around equipment, he placed it before Batha who gave him a gracious smile. Which, I found surprising considering I had never encountered an asari with a preference for coffee over tea. She must have been running on empty.
"Element zero is at the heart of many advances in medicines. In this case, it has a mutagenic effect that Miranda and I think-" She shook her head to dispel the urge of delving too deep into the more scientifically complex hypothesis we had mulled over for nearly two hours yesterday. "Well, it's not important right now. My work will cure this blood plague, though. That's what matters."
"I've got a lead on Bekke," I informed my accomplices, placing a hand under my chin. All of my leads had been in the Nemean Abyss. It turned out the batarians were busy out there: gunrunning, drugs, terrorizing human colonies...the works. "The batarians have been gathering forces there. All to protect something. Maybe it's eezo?"
"Sounds right," Nax grunted.
Intrigued by his voluntary agreement, I raised an imploring brow. "Oh?"
He shrugged gruffly, "Knew a couple batarian mercs that got hired by some businessmen from Bekke a couple months ago. Never said what they paying them to guard exactly. Only that it was big, and secret, and had something to do with one of the new mines. Batarians are all tight-lipped. Think that they're the first, and only ones to get their hands on something."
"Could be worth a look," Taylor nodded.
"As soon as we've taken a look at this arms dealer, we'll head straight there." I decided.
"Sounds like a plan," Jacob nodded, lending me a smile I did not return.
Instead, I glanced at Nax suspiciously. Leaving a krogan mercenary aboard a company ship without proper supervision did not sit well with me. Why should I abandon him long enough to be marooned planet side? Although I doubted Batha would allow it, Nax was highly protective of her and much larger. The giant reptile could certainly subdue his partner, and make a run from the people that were offering to pay him. If I were to force him to accompany us, he would accuse me of purposefully leaving Batha in harms way, alone and with only the five-person crew to keep an eye on the ship's safety.
Neither was preferable. So, I gave him a job to put his skills to use. "Mr. Taylor and I will head ashore once we reach Tortuga. We should only be gone a few hours. Nax, I want you to stationed as security while we're gone. Keep pirates away from Batha and the ship. We'll keep in radio contact."
"I wasn't gonna go anywhere anyways," He grunted.
Drawing my lips into a thin line, I nodded in approval, turned on my heel, and excused myself. The gangways of the corvette were cramped and the bulkheads provided narrow pathways that echoed the tiniest of movements. I didn't have to turn around to know I was being tailed on my way to the cockpit to check our status and alert the pilot of the krogan she would need to babysit. Jacob's footsteps were heavy and thunderous. The typical sign of a marine without expertise in stealth operations, unacquainted with the need for discretion.
As I passed the minute kitchenette and captain's cabin, Jacob finally caught up with me. "Lawson, wait up!"
My pace slowed, but I made no effort to pause and wait for his dallying pace. He fell in perfect step just behind me, and cleared his throat as though making an attempt to start a conversation. "About Nax."
I stiffened. "What about him?"
"I think you can trust him to do what he says."
Stealing a quick breath, I let the terseness slip from my features. Flashing him a quick smile over me shoulder, I asked, "What makes you think I don't trust him?"
"You said he could complicate things for us," He reminded me as though I'd forgotten our first meeting with the krogan.
"Sure. Back on Ahn'Kedar when we were in the middle of a gunfight," I said with amused, innocent eyes. "Now, we're on Tortuga. He'll be useful. I like to think up any possibility."
Jacob nodded solemnly. "Well, I trust you. So whatever you say goes, Miranda."
Overall, he had taken my direction superbly. His faith in me had been quickly won, and with surprising ease. One of his first questions for me had been whether or not I was a spy. But once I'd given a noncommittal reassurance that he could ask questions after the batarians were dealt with, he had become much simpler to manage as he put his duty first. However, despite the aura of the quiet, unquestioning, perfect soldier-boy swarming around his armored body; I was slightly inclined to believe he initially trusted me so quickly because of the fact that I was a pair of big, blue eyes with a passion for doing the right thing.
My employer was still a mystery to him. The Alliance had recently bastardized a few of our black ops cells for performing illegal experiments in Council space, and labeled our entire organization terrorists. The Illusive Man and I had agreed it best to let Mr. Taylor understand our ambitions before the media's bias could affect his opinion.
When I granted him a warm grin, he rubbed the back of his neck. "So, Tortuga? What can you tell me about it?"
"Never had the pleasure?"
1000 Hours, Saturday, July 4, 2167 / Cerberus Experimental Training Facility "The Farm", Nos Astra, Illium, Tasale System, Crescent Nebula, Terminus Systems / 18 years, 10 months, 19 days Pre Reaper Invasion of Earth
The Farm.
Nicknamed for it's ability to discharge a very specific breed of operative, and inarguably the most impressive underground facility I would ever see, none but Cerberus' best that resided on the upper border of Council Space were sent to train for their careers. There were no more than ten future agents under careful tutelage at any given time. Each student's course was individualized, personalized, confidential, and dictated by our personal mentor. We knew each other's names and faces, and were only brought together for certain activities: charm school, scholastic classes, physical fitness, and downtime.
My aptitude in death-defying car chases- where I terrified Petrovsky on more than one occasion- interrogations, withstanding torture techniques, sparring, infiltration, observations, and strategy were all honed by my teacher's diligence, patience, and good faith. And as seriously as we both took our assignments, Petrovsky was always able to put me at ease after a day of rigorous mock torture trials, lift my spirits when I was hard on myself for imperfect marks in my courses, or make me laugh when I took things too seriously. Even when I had yet to realize I was in desperate need of appraisal.
"You're overthinking it, Miranda," My guardian whispered kindly, snagging the datapad I'd had my eyes glued to all morning out from under me and replacing it with a steaming mug of tea. He smirked when he realized I was still glowering from the barstool in the upmost floor's breakroom. "Unshackle yourself, and take a break."
"Thanks," I grumbled begrudgingly as I worked through hacking the final node on the omni-cuffs. Four seconds later they sizzled out of existence, and I rubbed my sore wrists.
Petrovsky took hold of my sleeveless forearm and tsked. "I didn't think it was possible with the omni-cuffs, but your multitasking is going to rub your skin raw."
I grinned cheekily as I accepted the medi-gel ointment he'd offered. "At least I've stopped breaking my thumbs."
He cringed, clearly recalling the distinct popping noise a small bone in my hand had made the fourth time I had attempted to remove a pair of metal handcuffs. As unorthodox as my method had been, it had worked, and I was still functional. Oleg tapped my nose in good humor, "You, my dear, have the pain tolerance of a krogan."
"And the redundant nervous system to match," I agreed, savoring the taste of proper tea Oleg had procured for me. Just the right amount of cream and sugar. Not too bitter, not too sweet.
When I reached for the datapad, Oleg hid it behind his back. "Like I said, you're overthinking it. You're more than prepared for your exams. Give your mind a rest."
I frowned. "I can't. Not today. Just let me give myself a stroke, and I'll take a break when I'm dead."
Just not today.
Petrovsky let out a long, sad sigh. One that I now knew to be genuine. "Miranda, do you trust me?"
"Of course."
"How much?"
"With my life," I answered honestly.
"Then, today, don't pretend it's not your sister's birthday." That was exactly what I didn't want to hear. "Be angry if you want. Cry in your room for an hour. Be a little reckless. But, do not bog yourself down with work."
I opened my mouth to argue, a seething glare sealing itself into my features. But, Petrovsky was prepared. "Before you say anything about work being a productive coping strategy, know that I'm disagreeing with you. I want you to actually enjoy the challenges I give you. Not use them as a means of distraction. That's an order."
The breath leaving my nostrils was incredibly long. My fingers and toes twitched in irritation, and I could feel the heat draining from my face as I masked my frustration. "Fine, but what am I supposed to do for the next fourteen hours?"
He smiled in success, "Well, I've got a meeting with the Illusive Man."
"About what?" I asked at once.
"I'll tell you once I know," He promised. "But, you're a teenager, and Nos Astra is a big city. Go have fun, don't do anything stupid, and I'll give you credits for lunch. Make friends."
I gave him half of a smile. "I don't have friends. Friends are liabilities."
Petrovsky rolled his eyes, though he knew it to be true. Trusting too many people came with certain sacrifices. Regardless, my mentor practically shoved me out of the break room with a reminder that he'd better not find me sulking in my room later in the day. Huffing and folding my arms across my chest, I watched him skulk away and wandered aimlessly in my own direction.
I had desperately attempted to avoid any reminders that today was in fact Oriana's birthday. I even told myself that it didn't bother me. She was safe and happy with a family that loved her, and her first birthday would be a lovely affair. But, I couldn't help wondering how much she had aged. If she was speaking. Probably. Toddling and able to give others an earful. I found myself wondering what her voice was like. How she would speak to me.
I was so lost in thought that I nearly collided face first into the lanky frame of an old acquaintance.
He made no move to give return my personal space, so I was forced to subtly retreat a few steps backwards to fully glare up into dark, amused eyes.
"Got your head in the clouds, Lawson?" He teased.
"Got a map?" I retorted. "Because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here today."
Lieutenant Lentz held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I know where I'm supposed to be. I just thought I'd pop in for a visit before I went to go look after your-"
Gruffly clearing my throat, I pegged Lentz with a hostile glare that dissuaded him from finishing that sentence.
Nodding in understanding, the operative smiled charmingly and glanced around the fairly empty corridor. Lowering his voice, he offered, "Look, I just wanted to see if you'd like to take the day off? Go see something kind of cool?"
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Like what?"
"It's a surprise," He whispered mischievously.
"I'm not a big surprise person."
Lentz turned on his heel, and motioned for me to follow him outside. "Aw, well. You'll just have to trust me when I say it's a good one. Come on, Miranda."
1300 Hours, Tuesday, January 14, 2183 / Tortuga, Hispaniola System, Santa Maria Cluster, Nemean Abyss / 3 years, 4 months, 14 days Pre Reaper invasion of Earth
"So this is Tortuga?" Jacob scrunched up his nose with sheer dissatisfaction. "Lovely place."
"It's not all that bad, really." I mused, shading my eyes from the harsh glare of the sun smoldering its way through the hazy taupe atmosphere.
Like any remote civilization on the fringe of the Nemean Abyss, Tortuga was well accustomed to piracy. Of course, seeing as the grand majority of the planet's residents were in fact nomadic scalawags longing for a free port without trade tariffs, and the location was outside of the jurisdiction of any particular race, Tortuga was not warred over by rival clans. Even pirates wanted to have free reign over their own homes.
Jacob grimaced at me as though I'd suddenly grown another head.
Placing my hand on my hip, I shot him a disbelieving stare. "Well, I wouldn't buy a summer home."
Hell would have frozen over before I even allowed myself the consideration. Crime rates were exorbitant, so it wasn't particularly safe. The ambiance was severely lacking in sophistication, and- Oh, there's a turian with his hand around the throat of a volus.- Tortuga was wild and uncivilized, but in the grand scheme of the wicked ways of the universe there were far worse places.
Like Anhur.
Jacob and I trudged at an even pace down the cluttered docking ramp, and away from the corsair ship I had hired to fly us- and anything we picked up- to and from our leads. In contrast to the ease of poise and inconspicuous nature I had mastered, the marine kept a tight hold on his shotgun and a weary eye on his surroundings. Every few seconds he would bristle as another daunting character lurked past, unwittingly attracting onlookers.
"Put your gun down," I muttered under my breath, my eyes strained ahead, sweeping the area for immediate danger.
With a sharp expression, Jacob sneered at me with ground teeth. "This place is a firefight just waiting to happen."
"And you're asking for a reason to start one." Subtly gesturing between the small cluster of turians throwing us greedy eyes from a cargo slip and the assault rifle in my partner's grasp, I whipped up a patronizing smile. "Put your gun away."
Huffing an uncertain sigh, Jacob did as he was told and slung the shotgun over his shoulder as we rounded a corner into a marketplace in pursuit of our informant. Tucked into a pocket of boulevards just a few hundred yards from the port, merchants chattered back and forth. Some waved beads and garments at potential customers, others howled orders to the dockworkers unloading goods into the warehouses they were backed up against. Several different genres of music blared from apartments and bars. Brawlers stumbled out of saloons, and others were evicted by bouncers.
"You stick out like a sore thumb in that armor." A shifty-looking salarian I'd been keeping an eye on stepped out from the shadows at the edge of an alleyway.
"Told him that myself, actually." I consented, crossing my arms over my chest. I gave the crowd we were detached from a once over, and noted that only turians and krogans were dressed in full armor. Batarians and humans tended to wear chestplates and carry sidearms. They certainly were not adorned in the white and navy blue of an Alliance marine.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes as Jacob leveled his weapon at the slimy amphibian was impossible. Especially when he barked, "Who the hell are you?"
At least he's on guard.
The salarian's hand shot straight into the air. Good to know he hadn't changed. Still a coward in all his might. His nervous eyes flickered between myself, and the barrel of Jacob's gun. "Call me Ish. I'm a friend of Miranda's."
Taylor looked to me for clarification.
"Something like that," I shrugged. Friendship was not exactly how I would have described our relationship. Amiable? Of course. Ill will intended? None. Mutual trust? Absolutely not. I flashed a smile, "Good to see you again, Ish. This is Jacob Taylor. What do you have for us?"
"Is it time for Nazario to pay his dues?" The salarian countered with a gleam in his large oval eyes. Something told me that Ish most certainly hoped so.
"We just have some questions for him." Jacob corrected.
"Is that human-speak for 'pump him full of lead'?" Keenly interested, there was no disguising the fact that Ish strongly desired to hear Nazario's eulogy played over local news.
"Always a possibility, but hopefully it won't come to that," I disagreed with a clipped tone.
"Trust me, Miranda." I nearly snorted in disbelief with the salarian's plea. I trusted Ish no further than I could throw him- without biotics that was. There were times his deals were shoddy at best, but the slimy little amphibian was a fountain of information, and I could almost admire his greedy, unattached entrepreneurial spirit. Even still, seven feet was too long of a leash. "I'm...well acquainted with Illo Nazario. No matter how hard you try, someone is going to wind up shot."
Jacob's sullen expression became even more pronounced. "I can't imagine anyone that lives here is an all around good guy."
"Nazario has a habit of running weapons from here to the Batarian Fringe. He's been working with them for years. It's easy clientele- so long as Nazario doesn't accidentally send a human to deliver his goods. That could cost him an employee, and more importantly- a sale."
"Does he do that a lot?" Jacob inquired, clearly disturbed by the prospect of a few of our own race winding up in the dutiful hands of a sworn enemy. I found myself wondering if Jacob had ever actually witnessed the horror Hegemony was capable of inflicting on others as well as their own- like I had on Anhur.
"Send humans into Batarian Space?" Ish quirked his large teal-streaked head to the side. "No, not usually. Unless he's got a very naive volunteer, or a real problem with him. Illo is a businessman, and he's well aware of what would happen if his supplies were shipped in by the wrong the person. Nazario has a client list as long as my arm and enough thugs to take on an army. So, some of his men are expendable."
"What usually happens to the humans he deploys?" Jacob grimaced.
"You haven't come across many batarians, have you?"
"The ones I've run into have had a habit of shooting at me." It took him a moment to realize he had answered his own question.
I cleared my throat, "While I appreciate trivia I'm already in the possession of, I'm not paying you to withhold information from me, Ish. Or security access cards."
"Right." He coughed into his three-fingered palm, and straightened himself. "Rumor has it he hasn't cut any deals in the last couple of weeks. Some folks think he's planning something big."
"Such as?" I implored.
Ish frowned. "You'd have to ask him that yourself. Of course, you might not be able to. Others think he might be dead."
"Explain." I demanded.
"As far as anyone knows, Nazario has been holed up in the center of his compound for the past couple of weeks. No has seen him leave. It's just east by a few blocks. I'll give you the navpoint."
"Then we'd better get in there now," Mr. Taylor decided.
"Agreed."
"I've got the codes for the back door, Miranda. That's how you'll want to get inside. The guards have been monitoring the front perimeter to scare people off. Some batarian pirates just moved in, and they've made everyone a little weary."
Something told me those batarians had been bad for business.
Ish chirped after I pilfered a few credits into his account. "The codes change every three hours, so act fast. Lovely working with you again, Miranda. And it was nice knowing you, Mister Taylor."
Not ten minutes later, Jacob and I had infiltrated the rear entrance to the rather large compound through the smallest of five conjoined warehouses. With a pleased smirk, I drew my gun and whispered, "Ah, Ish. So useless and useful at the same time."
"You sure have some interesting friends."
"You don't know the half of it." I told him before checking the thermal friendly-foe scanner on my omni-tool. "Scanners show a lot of unfriendly blips further inside, Jacob. Ish wasn't kidding about Illo having a lot of thugs. We'll need to be careful."
As diligent as we were, we still wound up stockpiled with a barrage of turian guards. Unfortunately, the noise of that particular gunfight led us to be ambushed by the very same batarian pirates that Ish had shown no particular fondness for.
"Ish set us up!" Jacob growled as he dove for cover behind a rail of shipments.
I was instinctively defensive of my contact as I fired two shots into the foreheads of two pirates with my Predator. "It's not like Ish to…Oh, what am I saying? This is definitely something he would do."
"Do you have a habit of friends stabbing you in the back?" Jacob's face contorted in anger as he narrowly avoided being struck with a plethora of enemy fire.
Detonating Jacob's pull with a vicious warp field, I ripped apart three enemies that had wandered too close. "I don't expect Ish to meet a happy end. His track record isn't the best."
"But we trusted him anyways?"
"Not completely."
As we advanced through the hallways, we were confronted by a smug batarian, five of his men, and their guns. We held our ground, biotics flaring on our shoulders as he tilted his head back and laughed. "I wondered what kind of warped souls could leave me all these turian corpses. Figures it would be a pair of filthy humans. You lot really do despise them as much as you hate us. What's it like to have so many enemies?"
"What's it like to be an isolationist?" I spat back.
"Rrgh. If it weren't for your people, we wouldn't have had to leave Citadel space."
"That's unlikely." I motioned to the guns in their arms. "So, you here to assassinate the arms dealer?"
"Nazario?" He laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, we're just here to remind him who he's dealing with."
"I take it you've worked with Illo in the past?" Jacob asked.
"We're not here to discuss business with you, humans," The pirate spat, his visor hostilely narrowing in to focus on us. "Out of the way, or you're just another pair of corpses on the pile. I've got no qualms killing a couple of your kind."
I'm sure you don't.
"We've had a bad day. I'd recommend stepping out of the way. After all, we created that pile," I reminded him, lethally flaring my blue corona.
The batarian visually cringed at the sight. Biotics were something of a rarity amongst his people, and he certainly hadn't expected to run into two humans with the rare control over element zero. He stuttered, "Uh, yeah. We don't want any trouble. Sounds like you're here to do our job for us anyways. Turn back, men, let's leave these humans."
We kept our guns trained on their backs during their entire retreat before we reeled on the red-lit lock they had been attempting to hack just before our arrival. I frowned when I saw the results on my combat scanner. "There's at least four turians behind the door. Well armed, and expecting us. If we can get past them, we'll know exactly what's happened to Nazario."
Jacob hugged his shotgun to his chest as he took cover on the left side of the door. I was only on point long enough to hack through the lock. The moment the light flickered from crimson to ivy, I slammed my fist against it. When the doors parted, I raised a glowing fist, and Jacob dove to my side, aiming his own weapon at three turian guards.
No shots were fired.
All that came was a frail, doubly harmonic voice from the cot just behind the thugs. "Please, no shooting. No more fighting. We're no threat to you humans."
"Illo Nazario?" I asked, approaching the bedside cautiously as his men lowered their weapons and stepped aside.
"That's me," He coughed into his talons. Unlike most turians, he was bare-faced. World-less, or a spacer. They were not trusted amongst his people, and I saw no reason to completely disregard that aspect of such an alien culture. The rims beneath his eyes were uncharacteristically purple, and the sheet white appearance of his carapace was a dead giveaway to the lack of oxygen in his blood. Illo Nazario was ill.
"You look like you're on your deathbed." I murmured, looking to see if Jacob was drawing any conclusions.
"I am," Nazario barked, this time spitting up a trace of blue blood into the palm of his hand.
"Does this have anything to do with those batarians outside?" Jacob wondered.
"Batarians?" Nazario echoed. It was becoming more and more obvious that he was slipping. "I haven't had any business with them…Not since…Not since they did this to me."
My eyes grew wide in realization. "They did this to you?"
He nodded and attempted to sit up on his makeshift cot. With a shaky hand, he clawed for the glass of water on the nightstand. One of his personnel immediately groped for it, and offered it to him carefully. "I didn't think it was anything to be worried about…Especially not for humans. I ended our business relationship the minute I realized…"
"Realized what?" I demanded as he entered another coughing fit.
I did my best to keep my voice level, but the implications behind Nazario's illness were severely disconcerting. If both turians and batarians could be infected by this biological weapon, then it was exactly as Batha and I had hypothesized.
Mutagenic. Capable of attacking every race on the Citadel. Which meant these pirates were aiming to exterminate more than just Ambassador Jath'Amon. More than just the rumors. More than batarians planning to attack the Citadel on the day of Jath'Amon's visit. More than simply disrupting the peace talks.
They were aiming to take out every species on the station. Every ambassador and councilor in the meeting. The Council and humanity's Alliance were in peril.
Our problem had just become astronomical in proportion.