Chapter 4: Unlikely Allies
The Citadel, that massive hub of interstellar politics and trade, was bathed in the luminescence of artificial night. The vast skyscrapers loomed like silent sentinels, their gleaming facades punctuated by neon lights that painted the cityscape in hues of blues and purples. These lights cast reflections upon the gleaming pathways, creating shimmering patterns that danced in the cool, recycled air.
Tucked within the maze of the Citadel's endless roadways, Thane's vehicle sat in momentary stillness. Inside, the soft, ambient glow from the dashboard illuminated Charissa's pale face, her breathing even but shallow, evidence of her recent ordeal. Thane, his green-scaled hands steady, worked the vehicle's communication console with practiced ease. Fingers dialing into a specific, encrypted frequency, one that connected him to a familiar and trusted ally: Dr. Mordin Solus. As the call connected, a series of subtle beeps gave way to the recognizable voice of the Salarian scientist.
"Thane?" Mordin's crisp voice crackled through the device, each syllable shaped with his characteristic rapidity. There was a hint of surprise, overshadowed by urgency. "Unexpected. Purpose of call?"
Thane paused, his eyes glanced momentarily at Charissa, her vulnerable state starkly evident even in the dim light.
He chose his words with care, "I have someone with me," he began, the gravity of recent events evident in his tone, "She's been through an ordeal. She needs protection. And she might require medical attention."
For a moment, there was nothing but silence, a stark contrast to the bustling life outside. The only sounds were the distant hum of the Citadel's vast machinery and the faint echoes of conversations from its countless inhabitants. It was as if time had momentarily halted, waiting for Mordin's decision.
After what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, Mordin finally spoke, his voice softer, carrying a rare note of compassion.
" Understood. Bring her in."
As Thane navigated the sleek lanes of the city, his mind wandered back to Charissa. The quiet strength she exhibited, her intelligence that shone even in moments of duress, had imprinted upon him. An assassin by trade, emotions were luxuries he seldom afforded, yet her vulnerability awakened something within him. Emotions, ones he thought he had buried deep, began to bubble to the surface.
Ahead, the stark, imposing silhouette of Mordin's facility that he called home, loomed large and imposing. Situated in one of the quieter sectors of the Citadel, it was designed to keep its contents in and intruders out. As Thane's vehicle glided to a gentle halt, the large metallic gate of the facility began its slow ascent, revealing the interior.
Stepping out, Thane's senses were immediately filled with the sterile scent of antiseptics and the subtle undertones of various chemicals — a signature aroma of Mordin's workspaces. From the entrance of the facility, the Salarian's lithe form approached rapidly, his stride purposeful and quick, reflecting his ever-active mind. His pale red and white scales caught the ambient light, lending him an almost ethereal quality.
Recognizing Thane, Mordin gave a curt nod, indicating for him to follow. "Quickly," he chirped, "No time to waste."
In the dim glow of the vehicle's interior, Charissa began to rouse, her senses jarred by the sudden wash of bright LED lights from the facility. They pricked her vision, prompting her to shield her eyes momentarily. As memories of her ordeal came flooding back, a surge of adrenaline pushed her to sit upright, to understand her surroundings. Yet, Thane, always alert, sensed her sudden movement. His hand, surprisingly soft for a killer's touch, pressed her gently back into the plush seat, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions.
"Easy," he soothed, his voice deep and resonant, a stark contrast to the clinical, cold environment of Mordin's lab. Thane gently eased her out of the vehicle, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back, he led her to Mordin's examination bed.
Charissa felt a veil of weariness draped over her senses, dimming her usual sharp observations. Yet, even through the heavy fog of exhaustion, her scientist's mind caught fleeting details. The firm, gentle pressure of Thane's hand guiding her, the confident strides that seemed to know their exact destination, and the cool, ambient lighting of Mordin's lab all registered, albeit as distant, muffled notes.
As Thane guided her forward, she couldn't help but lean into his strength. Every fiber of her being screamed for rest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so discernible through their close proximity, threatened to lull her into a sense of safety. The scales on his hand, usually cool to the touch, now radiated warmth, as if he was intentionally trying to shield her from the clinical chill of the lab. Before she knew it, she found herself beside an examination table, Mordin's many instruments whirring and buzzing nearby. Thane's steady presence anchored her, as he seamlessly helped her onto the table, ensuring her comfort.
Mordin's voice, as ever, broke through her daze. "Exhaustion evident. Adrenaline will metabolize shortly. Minor contusions identified. Signs of waterboarding, familiar with method. Will recover."
Trying to focus on the present, Charissa blinked slowly, her voice barely above a whisper amidst her confusion. "Who... Why...?"
Thane, sensing her confusion, leaned toward her fluidly, his silhouette like a falcon descending. His face, now level with hers, allowed those enigmatic olive-green eyes to capture her gaze, exuding a potent mix of fierceness and solace. "I promised you safety," his voice rumbled softly, the timbre of his words designed to both reassure and command attention, "This is the best place for now."
A multitude of emotions played across her face: confusion, gratitude, fear. But overriding them all was the desire to understand, to piece together the puzzle.
"Why am I a target?" she finally whispered, her voice trembling, "I'm just a scientist."
Mordin, having completed his initial checks, chimed in, "Precisely. Scientists with potential breakthroughs, especially in genetic studies, often - targets."
Thane stepped closer to her, the subtle implication not lost on Mordin, who observed with a cocked brow. "Connections made in extreme circumstances tend to be... intense," he mused aloud.
Charissa, her initial fear fading, tried to pull herself up. "I need to understand. Understand why my work would lead to... this." Her gaze locked onto Thane's, seeking answers.
Thane, for the first time, seemed at a loss for words. Clearing his throat, he began, "Your work, whatever it is, has put you on someone's radar. But you're safe here, for now."