| 3 |
Running down the stairs, Braith lifts the front of the slitted dress and curses herself for wearing heels instead of grabbing a pair of sneakers to bring with her from the apartment.
She makes the lobby of the Nurinata, and slows to a walk, taking in the sight of the extravagant décor…When she and Erec had done their walk-through earlier, everything was still in the works…Now, it was breathtaking.
How am I going to find Erec in all this!
A singer's voice belted through the speakers in the corners of the exhibit hall entries, and hypnotic music reveled in the darker rooms, lit with spheres of light for dramatic enhancement of the environment…Large showy displays featured the advent post-Reaper-War of technology powering space flight and more, and Braith could not see through these productions that had glitter and more lights swirling around them, casting everything into dark and blasts of colorful rays.
Who approved that? She hurries through the lines of guests, donors having been cleared, and the rest all family or friends brought along and having to be passed through her security staff.
Braith approaches one of her men and he nods to her as he listens to a headpiece that circles his ear, "…Braith," she hears her name and she turns as her staff tends to scanning another guest, "…You made it!"
"Of course I made it," she smiles at Aylahana, Erec's wife, and the asari closes with her for a hug, "…Erec didn't say you'd be attending tonight."
"Change of plans," Aylahana's wide, sloughing eyes smirk in the corners, making her all the more pretty than she rightfully is, "…Kids have the night with their—" Her eyes widen, "…Erec's expecting you, right?"
"Yeah, where is he?" Braith has to lean closer to call over the din.
#
Hiding among the catwalk high above the exhibit hall, Casnar glances sidelong at the security agent—tied and gagged, stripped out of his clothes, and staring at the big drell a few yards away, cinching a collar over his violet-blue-silver tebris, out of lights, and any chance for those of Shepard Analytics staffing to hear the krogan's muffled groans for help.
"Quiet, piruza ( humpback )," Casnar holds up his gun, and aims it at the immediately-less-noisy security agent, "…Thought you'd be about my size…A little snug around the groin," he checks the pants' crotch area, "…But I'm sure my ass looks better than yours did in these from behind…" He leaves the skinny krogan to blink after him, and start up yelling through the tape holding his maw closed as the drell pulls up the anorak hood and walks along the metal grillwork, seeking his target. He bends over the railing and searches the dark and lights below—for someone who will look similar to his idea of Erec Brünner in his head…Add a few years, he reminds himself, …He'll have those hair and skin treatments to delay any sign of aging, the primp…He curls his lips in a canine-baring growl that quickly smooths back into his penchant surl. "There he is," he hisses, feeling his grip on the gun tightening as his tebris lifts behind the cowl of the anorak, "…There he…" As he points a gun, about to flick on a laser and give the man a scare, a tall asari and an elegant woman, wearing a coat over a green dress, cuts into his view of Erec by a Pool Garden display—superficial, what with the petals of the flowers on the chain vines all opened, "…Hmm…" He pulls on a wire hung above his head and looks up as he tugs tentatively and then more aggressively to determine the strength of its anchoring well to the ceiling…It is not one of those plugs, but a grounded one, or more accurately, ceilinged…Taking advantage of the dark and scattering flashes of rainbow lights, he uses the wire cable to hang a little lower from the catwalk, twenty feet up…
He drops the rest of the way down, expediting his need to use a stair or lift. He startles a few of the guests as he lands, and straightening to his full height in the krogan's uniform, "…Shepard Analytics, no need to worry, folks, we only have the best hanging over you," he chuckles at his joke, seeing their gullible smiles.
"What else will they think of," some lady says as her date hauls her over to the open cash bar.
Pulling up his hood from the back of the anorak, Casnar hides his smooth gold crests and walks through the camouflaging crowd, the hall's displays and lighting design, the music making the evening into quite a distracting show.
#
Smiling in relief at having found Erec so easily—thanks to Aylahana—Braith grabs his arm sleeve "…He's here, Erec."
Erec turns from having kissed his wife in front of the flashes of vid-cameras, and looks quizzically at Braith, while Aylahana starts in some conversations with guests complimenting the blue sequin dress she is wearing to the night's affair, "…You know what he looks like?"
"No, but I know he's here. I've been emailing him. I know, Erec, my instincts tell me…"
Casnar moves closer to the group, avoiding the flashes and camera lenses as he aims directly for these…The brilliance of the flashing lights will help to hide him—all tallness and rather obvious Shepard Analytics attire on his built frame…And seeing him in the uniform of the security at hand that night, no one gets in his way or stays in his path, once they notice the drell inside the hood coming through the crowd, that is. Casnar chuckles at how close he is to Erec, it will be quite the surprise.
"Erec, I hate to burst your bubble-time, but we need to bring you somewhere else…Right now…These lights and the way you changed the setup—"
"Pretty nice, huh?" Erec plays cool and distracted, not wanting to have to be hustled out of the cameras' view by Braith so early yet, "…Do this in about ten, fifteen minutes, Braith?" he asks her, cupping his mouth to hide his words as he speaks directly through the hand-cone into her ear, "…You smell nice, is that perfume you're wearing tonight?"
"Erec," she gives him a fierce expression, "…This is not the time to play around! Don't be so aloof! He's—"
Erec takes a hold of her arm and tugs her close to fake a smile at her, "…Best place for me to be is in everyone's view, Braith!" He lets go, pats her cheek as she stares at him, near infuriated by his behavior, "…He won't be able to confront me in front of all these cameras, see? I thought about it!"
He taps her temple with his index finger, Braith trying to work her mouth to say something not wholly rude, "…Erec Brünner, he wants you to be in—"
He shoves her away, "…Braith," Erec says loudly, "…Watch your feet!"
She sees him from the ground, her hands behind her on the floor in something wet, likely spilled drink or so it feels. A tussled loop of black hair hangs over one of her eyes…The other eye is staring in shock at his apologetic expression, "…Need some help?" she hears and looks straight up and back, tilting her chin up, black hair falling from the eye so she can see with both now. Casnar lowers down, the hood over his head concealing him some with the darkness, "…I said, do you need help, as in getting up off the floor, lady?"
No one's ever called me a lady before, Braith thinks dumbly...As she stares up into the hood, trying to remember her agent's name who's helping her and doesn't know hers…
Why doesn't he know who I am…He's not saying it as a joke either…I don't know him…That's not my guy!
She knows the faces of her staff because she hires them herself.
She does not recognize the agent above, and immediately takes hold of his wrist…He does not recognize her, so he does not know she is the employer of all the security at that event.
He helps her to stand and Braith looks down, trying to think of what to do…She has him, her hand is actually on him…
Does he have a gun, a weapon?
"Yeah, thanks, clumsy me," Braith says loudly to be heard, "…You help me over to a chair or the bar," she fakes a lame ankle, and reaches down to remove her left shoe, "…I think it's a second-degree sprain…"
"He shoved you," Casnar says clearly, his voice rough, "…I saw it from a mile—Would have that far, too, but I saw it here."
He hesitates, and seeing she is not freeing her grip on his right arm—the arm closest to his gun—Casnar looks up to see Erec moving away with the crowd of media, and his periwinkle-blue supermodel of a wife in her sequined dress.
"It's swelling, oh gods, I need ice, I need to sit down," Braith milks it for all she's worth, seeing that Erec and Aylahana are getting clearer of them, "…But not on the floor!"
Casnar curses in his head, and yet he assists the woman in the green dress, pulling her coat up over her bare shoulders, back towards the direction he had stalked Erec from…An open cash bar, he recalls, having had some accessible tables and chairs nearby on a raised stage.
#
Casnar stares out over the building crowd filling the exhibit halls, his opportunity to grab Erec and shove a gun in his face still present…
But the woman he has helped to the table and chair set on the stage is taking her sweet time.
He looks over at her hand still on his arm as he guides her to a seat, "…I'm going to let you go here and find someone to help you, lady," he tries to pull his forearm away—She has a tight grip on him.
"Please don't go," she sits down in a chair finally and hides the "injured" left ankle, "…It hurts…I need you to call an ambulance, or help me to a com-dial, aren't you a security agent for Shepard Analytics?"
Casnar doesn't even nod his head, "…Surely you can ask the bartender, they have com-dials and omni-tools…" He says and trails off as he looks down at hers, then to his…Idiot…Me or her? he thinks angrily, "…You can call yourself an ambulance—" His eyes widen as he sees the muzzle of a gun at his crotch, pressing against the firmness of his member hidden away behind several layers of clothing, "…Who are—"
Braith stares at him, her teeth in a smile, "…Hi…We should talk…Remember me."
Casnar snarls, "…Due Diligence!…Looks like your ankle's just peachy," he says as she stands again from her chair, holding the gun tilted towards his leg, his inner thigh, "…You don't know what you're interfering with…He threw you on the floor!"
"I'll deal with Erec's idea of working together later…I'm paid to take the abuse since I'm his shield in a way, and Erec's normally gentle…Not that he needs to be with me," she keeps her cool, staring more and more into the reveal of his angry face under that anorak hood…What she sees is something bordering on that dumbfounding, stupefying, mind-gibbering handsomeness that only other species could be blessed with…Are those green eyes?…His skin is…golden or brown, I can't tell just…
"Take off your hood so I can see you better in the light," she nudges his seam with her Whisperer, cleverly concealed in her coat.
"Nice try," he snarls back, canines baring, "…I take off this hood, you'll have drells gunning for me left and right, you might as well rip that wig off your scalp you're going to make this painful for both of us, Due."
"My hair's natural," she narrows her eyes, looks at the lump at the nose of her nozzle, "…What's that, extra padding? You wearing a sanitary napkin?"
"Ten of them," he leers, "…That's mine…And I would like all ten of them in one piece…I aim to have my hands on your…employer," he hisses, leaning so close she can see the gold of his skin, and the flare of tebral spines and folds along his patak ridges, "…You'd better be willing to pull that trigger," he grabs her wrist, forces her hand down, and Braith strikes his neck, "…Lady," he chokes at the sudden force into his tebris through the cowl fabric, "…You've a grip!" He wrestles with her, kicking over a chair and fighting for the gun…Braith holds her palm against the cowl, trying to cut off his air and shove him back at the same time…A little biotic help assists her, but she does not want to make a scene—or more than what they are causing as they struggle over the Whisperer, "…Let go, Due!" he grits out, picking her up by her waist and aiming the gun towards the stage floor, "…Shoot, why don't you!"
#
Erec sits down for a bite to eat with some of his highest gifting donors, Aylahana still chatting with a group of vid-cameras while he samples the fare, "…Have you tried the steak yet? Did it come out well?" he asks the guest next to him.
Behind his table is a loud crash, but it is hardly heard as the singing from the live performers in the next exhibit hall is so loud, and Erec barely notices that several security agents have run through the crowd either side his table of donors and he, Aylahana quickly drawing the attention of the vid-cameras back to her posing beautiful self.
Casnar and Braith fall on top of one and other, Casnar wheezing as her knee lands on his testicles between his legs…His hood covers his eyes as his lips purse in a whistling sound and Braith struggles to stand just as his hand grabs her knee, and he flips her finally off him, "…Don't move!…Uh, chief?"
Braith's fast to her feet as Casnar takes out his own gun and jams it in her cheek, "…I didn't want to do this but you leave me no choice—Get me out of here, I'm not going to prison for—"
"You promise to talk," she asks, the guns of her agents all pointed at him while he has the muzzle of his own in the skin of her cheek.
Casnar blinks, "…Is that all you want? To fucking talk, lady?" his voice nearly shrieks, "…I don't want to talk, but if it will get me out of this hot mess you've set me up in—"
"I'll call them off…They're my staff," she says, the pressure of his gun muzzle almost cutting into her skin, "…I don't really need them because if I wanted to, I could lift you off your feet and slam your head into the ground a few dozen times with my power…Now relax and put the gun down…Guys, gals, arms down! Guns down! Let him walk with me! I'll escort him out," she speaks sideways into her lifted omni-tool on her wrist.
Casnar hesitates…He looks at the crowd, over the heads of her men and women, armed and waiting for him to carry through with his side of the deal and he can only think that Erec's laughing at him…Damn it all!…He curses, and turns his glare to Braith, "…Walk me out of here, now, Due..."
Braith tests her cheek with her fingers as the gun moves away, "…You smudged my makeup," she glances from her fingertips to his face, or what she can see, the hood still inspiringly up, "…This way and keep close to me." Without a second glance at her staff, Casnar follows the woman out of the hall and back towards the entrance of the museum. He is allowed to keep his gun, and does not put it away.
#
Holding hands over both tenesses ( ears ), Casnar opens his eyes finally, pulls back the hood to drop it behind his neck, tapping his fingers irritatedly on a fake China plate. Across from him, Braith sits with hands in lap, no gun aimed at him, trying not to stare at how thick his neck is, the awesome ridges of his angular jaw line, the chin near clefted as he covers it up with a smoothing palm, fingers as long and strong as tentacles, "…You're kidding me," he says, breathing through a sigh, "…I had him right there…And you took him from my grasp…" The eyelids slid apart, one by one—four total, as is common among drellkind—and emerald eyes, rich as gems, with tiny black pupils narrow at her face, "…You…Due Diligence," he adds with much vehemence.
"My name's Braith Shepard. I run Shepard Analytics at Nolyn on Brausiva," she tucks her fingers together as she has twiddled these for the past five minutes, waiting for him to talk in the museum café. The music can be heard through the open door.
"You're the reason I do not have my reactor yet…My reactor, your employer stole from me."
"Care to tell me your side of the story now?" she asks, bending over her edge of the table, "…Erec's told me his already."
Casnar stares from the side of his eye, his arm on the table as he leans to the end of the booth.
The café is empty but for the late night barista, pushing a mop over the floor and glancing at them occasionally. Braith looks from the cleaner to the drell across from her, "…So, you're Rakhïken?" she asks to try and break more ice.
Casnar snaps in bad temper, "…I am Rakhïk," and then grumbles, "…Rakhïken's the language."
"Oh," she looks down at the silverware she's gathered on her plate, in case he decides to get fancy and try to cut her, "…I've only met the ones from Kahje."
At his derisive snort and cough, she lifts her eyes to his.
"Only met the ones from Kahje," he sneers at her disdainfully, drumming his hard fingers on the tabletop, "…Listen to you, so cute and worldly now aren't you…Humans…You've only got half clans' represented here in the city, Due, or Braith Shepard, whatever you want to call yourself now…Maybe I call you Shepard-dick or something cute too."
"You don't have to be such a prick," she replies, straightening, creaking her seat cushion, "…Are all Rakhïk drells such assholes?" she asks, forcing on a smile.
"I'm one of the better-mannered," he admits, looking away from her face.
Braith nods, "…You did offer to help me after I fell."
"Landed on your backside after that cretin pushed you." He points his fingers, "…You protect a scum like that?"
"He's my client. I have to." Braith observes him as he thinks it over.
He doesn't seem that bad really, he's just royally pissed off…And like I said, he was the only one to help me up and walk me to a chair…Must have a decent upbringing to mind for others like that…Probably had to be a real battle for him, too, walking away from Erec with me…I could easily keep him pinned down if I had to use the energy, but he's strong and big…Bigger than Thane and Feron, I wonder why, genetics maybe?…
"Is there a way I can help you," she clears her throat, stirring the green eyes to lift to hers again, "…That doesn't involve you publicly humiliating Erec and being front page news the galaxy over?"
"You get me back my reactor…That's what you can do if you're going to imprison me under your watch."
"Where would I find it? Saying I entertained the notion with you."
His fist slams on the table suddenly, rattling the plates and silverware. Braith glances quickly to the startled—then annoyed-looking—barista, "…That's what I was going to find out before you fell all over me with your ruse!"
Sitting back as she waves her fingers to the woman, urging her to not mind them too much, "…You were going to cause a big scene…You made that clear, and still do," she reminds him.
"We didn't?…" he scoffs immediately, "…What else you have in that head of yours—Air!" He turns to set his shoes on the floor at the end of the booth, "…You're wasting my time."
"Where exactly do you think you'll go from here, Mister Soterios?"
"It's sered ( master ) to you," he juts his finger at her and flinches, tension in his back pulling at scars, "…Shit," he winces and settles down, taking a breath…
"What's the matter? I didn't hurt you too much when we were rolling around, on and off that stage back in there," she nods her head towards the outer lobby filled with emptiness as the lines have made it inside the event, and genuinely feels some pity for him.
The pain in his flinch was real.
Casnar blinks as the stab of pain fades, "…I'm hungry, I need to eat something. I lost my chit inside that fucking party, rolling around with you."
"Help yourself," she nods to the café and flips out her own. "I'll buy for you…You're not from around here."
"No, does it look like…" He pauses, knowing he's said too much, "…I've been here longer than I should be, but that can't be helped…" And with a sigh, "…I can't go back without the reactor."
#
Braith leans forward over the table again, "…What's your story, you going to tell me or not," he stands and goes to the barista, ignoring her as she follows with only her gaze.
Casnar places his elbows on the counter, "…Mind if you warm up something for me," he winks at the barista, a strawberry-blond human with a small nose and wide eyes, "…Maybe an espresso, some pastry with it," he tilts his golden head towards Braith, reclining in her dress and coat with one arm on the top of the booth, "…Devil in the green dress and rucker for a trench over there's paying for it."
Braith frowns, "…Don't be calling names, Sered Soterios," she says loudly across the café space, and he turns and glares.
"Don't say it out loud, woman, people listen for that name."
Eyes rolling, Braith stands and lifts aside her coat panels to check her gear.
Casnar watches, getting a slip of long and athletic leg through the slit of the bottom skirt, a one-piece with a satiny shine to it. "That's a nice gown," he pushes off the counter, another appetite stirred, "…Now I have a chance to breathe after you clobbered me," he walks over, still in the Shepard Analytics outfit, "…You should have a purse or a shorter jacket for the shoulders, there's straps right?" He takes a pull of her sleeve…innocently enough. Braith glances at him from the holster case, detached of the leather halter straps, hidden in her coat once more with her knife.
"Yeah, well, I can't pack heat in spaghetti straps."
"Let me see…Go on," he motions for her to go ahead and take off the coat, "…I'm not a pervert."
"You aren't?"
"I might have certain bedding tastes when it comes to that kind of vulgar thought…How base of you to think it," he raises an eyeridge at her subsequent eye-roll, then grins harmlessly, "…I do like how clothing fits on a body…Movement and the proper fabric is appropriately a fetish of mine…Not really a fetish, I'm being facetious…" he replies to her eyeballing-stare, "…Your company uniforms are comfortable, I can move in them," plucking at the anorak fabric with his fingers.
Hesitantly, Braith checks the counter for his order—but the barista is still working the machine and preparing it for the espresso, while an oven heats up a pastry, "…Okay, hell with it," she shifts her arms out of her sleeves, but stops and glares at him. "Don't get any ideas. My gun's coded."
"Nice, thanks for the late warning," and he twirls his two fingers to urge her continue with removal of the top coat. Braith sets it on the bench, away from his reach, but her gun close at hand.
His own remains inside the band of his pants.
"Doesn't look like much now, does it," she says with a conspicuous shrug of defeat.
"I beg to differ." Casnar likes the simplicity of the green dress, accentuating her shoulders, and especially her neck and hips, the bust, "…It becomes you."
A reluctant smile edges the corners of her mouth upward, just barely, as she suddenly feels self-conscious, "…It works for me."
"It does," Casnar's eyes are matching the hue of the dark green dress, his tebris hidden—but for along the back of his jawline, Braith would not have noticed a little pulse of the pretty, blue-violet folds of skin.
#
Walking him to his skyrunner—to ensure he does not return to the Nurinata—Braith tugs her coat closed in front, the steam from the sewers occasionally blasting cold air with its expellence of whatever bowels' release. Casnar smokes a bedi between his lips, his eyes hooded as he walks along the sidewalk with her, lights from the fixtures above passing over their heads. His hood remains down, exposing his smooth and golden crests. Braith glances at his build, keeping pace with her, "…Where do you live?"
"Not telling you," he speaks with the bedi between his lips, its floral scent pleasant, "…Why don't you tell everyone where you live."
"I live on Atmore Street, the tower with the blue effect at the top."
He looks at her with some surprise, then ahead his eyes go once more, "…That's awful trusting of you."
Braith shrugs, "…Someone really wanted to kill me, they could try, I guess…"
Wouldn't get much satisfaction when they found me on their doorstep again, she adds in her head. Casnar coughs.
"What makes you so cocksure of yourself, Shepard," he strides to a stop and turns, taking the bedi down and gesturing harshly with it at her, "…What are you trying to pull with me?"
"I'm trying to protect my client, is all."
"Right," he spits at reference to Erec Brünner, "…Gold-star client who would rather use a woman as a human shield."
"You don't really recognize me, do you…" Her hands slide into the silk-lining of her coat pockets, "…I'm Commander Braith Shepard…Galaxy at war with Reapers, you recall?"
"No," he twists the bedi into the other corner of his mouth, Braith slightly agape, "…Don't care…Knew about Reapers, and they knew to stay well away from Rakhana. We don't have technology there, just peace and flaw."
Braith inwardly laughs, "…Really, I guess Rakhana being a dead planet and all—"
"It's not dead," he mutters, flicking the ash off his cherry, "…It's misunderstood. Meant to be that way."
"Really."
"Yes, really," he remarks snidely, then covers his face with his hands as he tries to light the bedi again with a light from his omni-tool, "…We operate unlike the rest of the galaxy. We don't get involved nor do we care to be involved with whatever's going on out here…Until recent years, you'd never see drells walking out in the open, without some hanar holding the end of their leash."
Taken aback by his assiduous rhetoric, "…You don't have a positive relationship with the hanar?"
"Hanar, shmanar," he waves his hand and pulls the bedi out of his mouth to jab, "…You ever met a hanar you liked?"
He had a point, "…Not really, come to think of it."
Casnar turns on his heel, "…Come on, walk me on my leash to my skyrunner…It's not far for those heels."
Braith follows and catches up to him, "…I know drells who speak well of the hanar." She thinks of Thane, …Ooo, he's supposed to call, and checks her omni-tool for any notifications. There are none.
"They do if they've been hand—correction, tentacle-picked by their handlers, what we call sponsors on Kahje."
"I heard that…" she lies to keep him talking.
Casnar circles his hand in a rounding gesture, "…They change their eyes, their gods and goddesses, everything. Whole generations are mind-fucked by the hanar into believing they need the Compact. Kahje's important, save the fucking planet, save the poor, pathetic drells and their pitiful lives…" His lips curl in disdain, "…There's a use for every drell they bring up there, it's not incidental…My own blood was on Kahje, still is, and what happened to her…"
"Her," she repeats, intrigued, "…You have a family member, like a daughter or something?"
"No," he stops again and stares at her, "…No," he repeats less gruffly.
For a long moment, he disappears into a memory, and Braith watches, wondering what he will spit out for her to further understand him by, and what's the story with this guy…Thane used to solip, and tell her vivid experiences within his past, and here she was standing before this golden drell wearing one of her staff's uniforms…Probably Weixley's by the size of it…And he is about to speak…But Casnar blinks his eyes and moves off, leading himself towards his skyrunner.
"That was…" She runs after him in her heels.
"What."
"Did you just have a memory trip?" she asks, coming abreast with him.
"No."
"You did! And you didn't blab it out," she says, "…Every other drell I've met—"
"Let me guess," he tilts an eye briefly in her direction, "…Is from Kahje, and repeats their memories like their guts are coming out of their bellies."
"Yeah, that was graphic…" She slows, "…Why didn't you?"
"I'm a Rakhïk Drell. I'm not taught to share."
"Isn't everyone from…"
"Not all drells are born on Rakhana—and there are other species and races there, mind you," he exhales with more irritation, streams of smoke jetting from his nostrils, "…Kahje selects who they want because Kahje has a plan for those they welcome. They are raised from a young age to become tools for the Illuminated Primacy. If you think the hanar's brainwashing sounds bad, and it is, you'd laugh to know who they copied it from." He pulls out his bedi, and blows a big cloud to his left, directly before her, making her stop to avoid it. He nods, "…This here's my skyrunner," Braith looks at the vehicle they stopped alongside, and it is black with creamy red seats, "…I'll be getting in, and you'll need a ride back, unless you want me to let a lady walk in the dark in an evening gown and high heels alone."
"You think I can't handle myself?"
"I want you to get into my vessel," his eyes have a knowing look, "…I don't doubt a woman can handle herself, but I thought the same without really knowing any better once, and it didn't work out well for her," he pops the door up, motions for her to get in, "…You've walked this far with me, let's talk some more about how you can assist me in behaving like the good drell you want me to be, with regard to your client."
#
Steering the skyrunner through the air and banking just shy of the corner of the museum's expanse there in the city, Casnar leans over and unlocks her door, catching a whiff of her perfume and her scent, "…You have twenty-four hours to give me the reactor," he tells her as she stands from her seat, carrying the uniform he stripped out of, "…Any minute after, I'm going for him again, you won't stop me a second time," he looks at the turn of her chin, her eyes meeting his.
"You have to be patient," she says, standing onto the sidewalk, "…Erec's spooked about seeing you, and I'm not all that sure about the technicalities legally with this reactor and you and him."
"That's why he'd better come to his senses and see me," Casnar growls, eyes intently peering up at hers, from her seat as he leans over the console, "…I've been robbed and left to suffer, consequences he should have faced…Being human, he wouldn't have survived them, but I did..."
Braith steps away and closes the door, but the window remains down, "…I can contact you at the email I've been pinging?" she asks, reserved with her wonder what he's been through exactly.
"Yes," Casnar looks to the windshield, "…I'll be waiting to hear from you."
He gives her one last glance, then closes the window. She feels sorry for him, …You're not that bad of a guy…She turns and heads for the Nurinata entrance, climbing a few stairs to a rise and then walking down again.
Casnar rubs his face and hisses, …Fool, go back there, behind her back! Get that bastard to squeal where it's at! You said it would be done tonight! What are you doing! A pair of eyes and a pair of…She's persistent, I'll give her that…Idiot…He leans on the steering, turns and banks the skyrunner about, accelerating to the museum again.
Braith heads inside and greets some of her staff, "…Anyone find Weixley? I think this is his suit and he's gagged somewhere, keep an eye out for him," she hands the uniform to an agent, who starts talking on omni-tool. "That went better than I'd hoped," she says to the others, "…Everything been calm while I handled that job?"
Casnar pulls down to the curb and searches for his gun and knife.
As he has his crests down, he doesn't notice the first skyrunner fly by, but he does hear the close rush of the second one, and both of these park on the sidewalk, not in the lane as they should.
He raises an eyeridge as he studies who steps out of the vehicles, …Shit…Souledivinie…Lucannon's crew, and that's Kine…What the hell are they doing here?
The doors slide open. At the alarmed expressions of her staff, Braith turns, stopping her hands from leaving the inside of her coat. A group of thick bodies, covered in coats, heads topped with hats stand inside the lobby. "Hi," she says first to greet and catch their attention—they are looking around, heading towards the exhibit hall with all the noise and music, darkness and flashing lights, "…Nurinata Museum is closed tonight to the public. Private event…You have invitations?"
"Brünner here?" The rasp is smooth, rough at the same time.
"Drells," she understands from what she sees visible between their thick collars and low-brimmed hats, "…I thought I just got rid of one of you."
Kine looks at her, his interest new, "…Say again?" He smiles disarmingly and walks casually over to talk to her, looking down at her face, "…You just got rid of one of us? Wouldn't happen to be my buddy, Casnar, would he?" Braith's dawning expression tells him he's right where he needs to be, "…He leave how long ago?"
"I literally saw him at the curb not even five—"
"He say where he was going," Kine cuts in.
His abruptness gives her a red flag, "…I think he was going to head home, Rakhana-bound," it was a stretch, but where else would he go that this drell might fit with him easily.
Kine stretches his arm and points to the doors, "…Which way did he leave, what's your name?"
"Braith, Braith Shepard, I'm security."
He looks at the hint of green inside her coat, "…Brünner pay you well?"
She furrows her brow at him, "…You were asking where Casnar went."
The drell with the silver eyes looks a little too long at her, but Braith doesn't let herself be cowed, "…You got balls, Shepard, looking a Souledivinie drell in the eyes…What direction did he go in, and he fly a black skyrunner?"
"Like yours, kind of," she can see theirs parked obtrusively on the sidewalk.
"Red interior, leather seats, heat warming," he asks.
"Yeah," she lifts her eyebrows, "…It was a nice ride."
"So you been inside it…" His tebris does a little blur of movement, and Braith steps back as he grabs her arm and shoots his hand into her coat, blocking her gun, "…Casnar's got a new hot ticket," he says as Braith's biotics fire up, "…Bihm, she's an I'lorie—"
Around her, her agents back up with their guns out, aiming at the drells now pointing their own weapons back, and Braith's pulled snug to Kine, "…You flash that nice heat about you, girlie, I'll have my men plug each of your agents a hole in their chests, come talk with me and it won't be so messy," he says as her power wanes and withdraws into its place in her body.
"A few questions, that's what you want? There's a better way to go about it than manhandling people," she says calmly.
Kine draws her with them as they back up and head to the doors, "…A few questions, maybe a little more, depends on what Dominga wants to know," Braith shakes her head at her staff, and as the doors close her off from them, they run to the glass and watch helplessly as Kine stuffs her into the first of the skyrunners.
"Son of a…" Casnar hisses as he sees them bend and bundle Braith into the skyrunner, "…Now look what you've done."
#
Caught on the vessel's seat, Braith's heel comes loose.
"Take it easy, ass—"
"What were you about to say," Kine pushes his gun into her neck, "…That's more like it."
"Great," she quips, "…How many more times are guns going to be shoved at me tonight," she feels the door open on her left, another thick body with leather sits down beside her.
The smell of musty leather and smoke is stronger as the vehicle fills with big Rakhïk drells.
And then something…something cool and smooth is snapped against her neck and locks tight.
Braith's hand jumps to her throat, "…A separator? You put a separator on me without my consent! That's a felony!"
"Look," Kine pokes his gun at her face as she stiffens upright, "…You need to talk to someone important, not like that has-been trash Soterios, who we need to find since he's not supposed to be here…You're goin' to have to talk to a celebrity, maybe not in your circles, but in ours," he laughs with the others, "…Diaustra's the drell in charge in Lothairaxl."
Braith frowns, "…Why do I need to speak with him."
Thane's warning comes back, and she moves her hand towards her omni-tool to hit an emergency switch, but Bihmaus takes hold of the device before she can lift the panel and access the button, and shakes his head at her, "…Not a wise idea."
"Why am I being held against my will, and if not, I should be allowed to use my cuff."
"Bihm's making sure you don't warn Casnar, seeing you two might be in cahoots."
"That's funny, I've only known him for maybe two hours? Almost?" She stares at Kine from the others across from her seat, and crosses her knees, adjusting her dress down, "…I don't know what you want me to tell you guys."
"Where's Casnar staying…How'd he get here from Rakhana…He's en exile you know, he's supposed to be living in a little retirement community."
"Awful young to be in retirement…Retirement from what?" She looks distractedly at her toes, "…I'd like my shoe back, whoever's taken it."
#
Fifteen minutes passed 1900, Braith is tugged out of the skyrunner and encouraged to walk with bare feet down a staircase into a sewer outlet, and through a door among the pristine white tiles down there. She enters a smoggy basement, a rec room it reminds her of, what with green covered tables and thick padded chairs. She looks to who's currently guiding her in, "…Sit down wherever you like."
That she has no shoes on makes Braith think of future unpleasantries, "…How long is this going to take," she asks.
"However long you make us wait," a baritone voice enters the room through an open doorway set with more tiles, these brown in color, "…Kine, Bihmaus, take the others up top and leave me alone with our guest."
The biggest drell—and the ugliest she has ever seen—steps under the doorframe, ducking his crests, and rings clink from their attachments to these, "…Who are you, no wait, let me guess," Braith says, her eyes shrinking into her skull as she looks upwards from her seat, "…You're Diaustra."
"Diaustra Lucannon, at your service," he rumbles humbly and tips his shoulder and head slightly, standing at the other round of the table, his men going back outside, "…I hope you don't mind the formality of no shoes for our guests."
"That's okay," she tucks her feet together, the panel of her dress covering her shins, "…I was wondering if there would be paddling the feet with wooden boards, full of nails."
"We prefer more humane ways of convincing new friends of our little social club's intentions," he sits down as he speaks this, "…Telling us what they've been brought here to…" With heavy hands he makes a balled fist of thick red, purple fingers on the table, "…You are," he leads her on.
"Braith Shepard. Security consultant for Erec Brünner."
He laughs, a big, rolling, thunderous laugh, and slaps the table, jumping the mugs on it. "Erec Brünner's a comedian…That human knows how to make me laugh." He sighs, wiping his eye.
"Does he," Braith tilts her cheek up, "…I find him kind of tragic."
Diaustra wipes the corner of another eye, moving the dark wrinkles under his eyelids, "…He is that, too, yes…Cannot have one without the other, makes for a better story, no, Braith Shepard?"
"Speaking of stories," she goes on, "…I'm getting the pieces of one tonight…Want to tell me why I'm here and get this separator off my neck?" She lifts her chin to indicate the device.
His rheumy eyes swirl with something faint floating behind the dark pupils, "…I have a need for Tyrannus blood, Shepard, and your presence is going to bring me closer to the prey."
#
Comfortable in her basement parlor chair, Braith looks around the room and sees old paintings of very pretty landscapes, "…Did you purchase those," Braith asks, preferring to look at them over the dominga seated in front of her and pouring them glasses of some type of dark liquid.
"Painted them myself actually," Diaustra informs her with not even a glance to these, "…Drell can retain the world in their minds, no real need for paintings, but it relaxes me when I'm angry."
She looks at him now as he slides the tumbler towards her, "…What's that," she asks warily.
"Don't worry, dear," he drinks his thick tumbler glass, "…Gran'wen, a berry on Rakhana, found by the ocean."
Her eyes regard him suspiciously, "…Rakhana has no oceans." Least, that's what she remembers hearing…Has Thane been lying to her all this time?
Diaustra nearly spits out his wine, "…Pft, what, no Beirchardt? No Isle of Tears! Hear that," he roars over his shoulder to the outer door again, "…She says there's no ocean on Rakhana," and shaking his crests, the rings clinking, the tebris swaying some under his buccals, "…Hilarious, offworlders, hilarious…The ignorance is breathtaking…Kahje truly pulled a blanket over our planet, but one day, one day soon, Rakhana, The Keep, shall be revealed."
There is a knock on the outer door.
"Come in, what is it!" he growls from his reverie, Braith looking over at Bihmaus appearing this time.
"There's someone here to see you, Sered," Bihamus body is vast, but not enough to hide the features of a quailing salarian behind him, "…Not scheduled, shall I send him away?"
"Who is it?"
"Some salarian, wants to look into rates."
"I'm busy entertaining Miss Shepard, who has remarked of my paintings," he chuckles and nestles into his big chair again, "…Shepard," his finger on the rim of his tumbler juts to the painting on the wall, "…Do you know where those landscapes are from? Take a guess…"
"Rakhana," she ventures.
Diaustra nods, "…The Rakhana the galaxy does not know…But for maybe the hanar, that is," he laughs belly-deep, pleased with her surprise.
#
Sitting low in his front driver seat behind the handles and dashboard, Casnar watches the underground entrance where he sees Souledivinie drells milling about and smoking bedis, talking quietly while several had left with Kine Pilandross. The salarian returns to the surface of the street and looks nervously at the other drells—who barely bat an eyelid at his diminutive existence. Getting out the door, Casnar runs into the alley, and awaits the salarian to make good on his word—if he wants the credits Casnar promised him.
He travels through the alley to another bend, passing over vents of steam and slick condensation formed on the bars, over the breadth of nearby metal walls. The salarian arrives maybe five minutes after Casnar has found the location on the corner of Etil Boulevard and Crisinik, and he hands him a spare chit he kept in the skyrunner, "…She in there?" Casnar asks as the salarian's three fingers wrap around the token.
"There was a lady, b-black hair, f-fit your description."
"You let on I was waiting for her? What did you tell them?"
"N-nothing, just looking for rates," the salarian quavers, staring hungrily at the chit. Pockmarks and bumps mar his skin and horns.
Casnar pats his shoulder, pityingly. "Go use it on something worthwhile, there's plenty on there, all for you." The salarian nods his pale tan head vigorously, and starts to run down another alley.
Casnar heads back to the skyrunner but takes a separate alley for another view…Climbing one of the pairs of pipes that are set close on the outer walls of the buildings' exteriors, he ascends four stories and takes out his gun, holding it, opening the sight to expand its magnification. Leaning over the edge of the balcony, he checks for any drells, or curious tenants, then aims his gun for the brothaul doors on Lithie Boulevard. Out front are two airlimos—one silhouette of a driver in each—at least four more drells guarding the main entrance to the brothaul. A set of stairs leads to the sewer entrance on the corner and an emergency escape on the roof, with catwalks and metal stepladders like those he has seen before, descending to the alley in the back he presumes. Removing the sights from his eye, Casnar waits for a chance to learn what has happened to the woman inside. Maybe she's telling them everything she and Erec know about me…She didn't have a broad grasp of drells in general, only that narrow Kahjic perspective, damn the jellies, he thinks acidly.
A few more minutes go by…Nothing happening. Casnar looks away, up to the clouds overhead, sighs and leans against the railing of the balcony.
Won't be able to do much for her anyway, he thinks, …Pathetic drell…Pathetic woman…Pity, she was nice. The minutes list into a quarter of an hour and Casnar sits on his bottom as he waits, wonders…A half hour goes by…Forty-five minutes…
He checks his omni-tool for messages but sees only the few from Braith, earlier in the day when she was asking him who he was, and what he was going to do…
Had he known he would be standing above the brothaul of one of his hated enemies? Waiting for a human woman, a woman who sat and tried to get him to figure out his life with her…
He was as surprised as he had been the day he learned that Erec had run off with his reactor, dropping him in the middle of nowhere and saying goodbye to their friendship…Some friend…Humans are unpredictable…Why am I waiting here on this one…This lady…
She fell with such violence from Erec's deliberate thrust of his arm, and she had been taken off guard completely…Casnar had wrestled with her, she was no easy push-over…
She, like he, had trusted Erec…And though this time round might be different, she receiving his pay for her protection, it whittled at his sense of justice…The injustice rather of someone he had trusted with a secret, turned it on his head, and now doing the same to someone else…
An hour goes by…and still the Souledivinie drells stand outside like bored sentries, smoking and participating in idle chatter. Casnar peers through his sights, puts his gun away and slides down the wall farthest from the building in his balcony of obscurity…And then he hears it: a skyrunner pulling down to park and the doors opening, there being additional voices, ones he recognizes…Erec! He stands and looks over the railing, aiming his sights, and hisses when he sees Erec's blond head, the white suit he wore to the event at the Nurinata that night…There he is…But why?
Climbing down the pipes in the alley, he runs to the nearest sewer vent, prys it up with his fingers, his strength helping him to lower it without a bang.
He drops into the cold waiting steam, and makes his way in the direction he hears their voices traveling through the infrastructure below the City Above.