I had a problem.
I had exactly twenty-one credits to my name, and, as far as the future in the Mass Effect universe was concerned, no marketable skills. I needed to make credits to, at the very least, eat, if not find a place to stay. I didn't have a clue what to do just yet, but for now the best thing, I thought, would be to stay in the Citadel. Mostly because I didn't have money to go anywhere.
Although I have to admit, the idea of getting my ass out of the Citadel, since I knew the big shitstorm was coming, was tempting. Maybe I would do it, but I couldn't even afford the freaking trip.
So, I had to find a job, because I needed credits. And the list of jobs I could fulfil was very short, and rather underpaid. Unskilled manual labour that couldn't be done by mechs was not very abundant. I could cook, but I didn't have any references or credentials, so it'd be a bucket monkey job at a line. Best I could see on the list was about ten credits an hour.
"This sucks..."
The asari at reception gave me a glance, so I tried to keep my mutterings down to the minimum. The Citadel had more than a few employment offices, and this was the one AVINA claimed had the best employment rates for humans.
Thus, here I was. After a quick interview to check what my skill set was, they gave me a list. I didn't mention anything regarding guns or security, because they required a security clearance, and I wasn't sure I wanted to go there. And more importantly, I had had my fill of shooting things for now. I had my trusty Striker, and a kinetic barrier that'd make a small frigate jealous, but I wasn't sure I wanted to use it in public unless I had to. I was wearing it underneath my brand new clothes – pants, t-shirt, unbuttoned shirt, I stood out in the midst of the future jumpsuit fashion parade, but it was a timeless classic in my opinion – but it was on the "low" setting. I found out I could set it low enough so as to not be visible unless I got shot, at which point the system took over and charged it to max.
I also managed to find out what it looked like when it was visible. It was freaking weird. Imagine looking at a moving X-ray that sometimes shows a skeleton, sometimes the flesh underneath your skin, all under a sheet of water. Sounds strange? Well, that's what it looked like. Distorted, strange, and I have to say, if you saw that coming at you with a gun that could shoot at you through a foot-thick concrete wall, probably fucking scary too.
Damn but I missed that gun. I wish I had kept it. Hm, come to think of it, maybe I could ask the stupid AI for it.
That took me on a completely different mental tangent. The AI. She had fucking thrown me back almost like she had slapped me on the face. Well, it was about fucking time she gave me some help.
I took the datapad, opened the edit menu, and started typing.
WE NEED TO TALK, AI. RIGHT NOW.
After a short wait of nothing happening, I tried again.
RIGHT NOW, OR I'M OFF TO THE PRESIDIUM TO SHOUT ABOUT THE REAPERS. I'LL EITHER GET COMMITTED OR-
I didn't even finish the sentence before I was yanked out rather unceremoniously. I realized that, until then, the AI must have been rather careful about it, because now the yank felt almost physical.
And there she was. She didn't even give me a chance to speak.
"Roy, I'm-" She stopped talking, and her face changed to the faraway look. Was she getting plugged in or something? "What is it you wish?" she said, in her creepy-creep voice.
Weird. These meetings kept getting weirder and weirder.
"Two things. The first one, I want that gun you gave me before."
"No."
…
That was it.
"What? Why?"
"We cannot spend resources for that."
And again, that was it.
"Well, fucking thanks. The second thing, when is the attack on the Citadel happening?"
"We do not know."
"Okay, just cut the bullshit. If this has happened thousands of times, you have to know when Nazara attacks!"
"The time of the attack is dependent on the actions undertaken by Shepard. She is the key to the future of the galaxy."
"And I'm not on the Normandy, so fuck that. When?"
She paused. Processing? Thinking? Hard to tell. And it's hard to describe how creepy it was, too. In the beginning she was strange, yes, but as time went on, she got less and less... shit, I was going to say human. That's where the creepiness came from. I think the AI-ness was coming though. The more I went off script, the less it could emulate the right human reaction. It was going straight for the bottom of the uncanny valley. Who the hell was this fucking AI?
"The shortest time we have registered for the attack is twenty-nine days from today. The longest time is one hundred and ninety-seven. Past times are not a guarantee of the events on your current timeline. You have diverged from all paths we have seen."
"Yeah, so you said, no one managed to get kicked out of the Normandy. Fine. What about-"
I didn't get to finish before I was unceremoniously dumped again, landing so hard it almost felt like a physical crash on the asari's office. Fuck, everything was spinning.
"Sir? Are you all right?" the receptionist said.
"Y-Yeah," I replied, closing my eyes and pressing my finger on them. "Just fine..."
After a few seconds everything levelled out, so I could open my eyes again and go back to the list. Damn. Four weeks to six months. What on Earth would take Saren six months to attack the Citadel? I mean, all he needed now was the cypher and the location of the Mu relay. Hardly something that'd take six months.
Whatever. Four weeks minimum, so that was fine. Enough time to get a bit of money and figure out what to do next. I went back to the list.
Relay Rob's. Line cook. 8c/h.
Relay Rob's. Food delivery. 3c/h plus tips.
Rulame Maintenance Services. Cleaning and Maintenance. 450c/h.
Slam-dunk. Warehousing. 9c/h.
...
Wait a goddamn minute.
Rulame Maintenance Services. Cleaning and Maintenance. 450c/h.
…
I looked again. Four hundred and fifty credits an hour? I opened the entry, and looked at the description. No skills required, on the job training, possibility of overtime at twice the hourly rate. What on earth was that? The lack of details worried me a little, but at four hundred and fifty credits... Not only that, there were several openings for the same position.
The weird thing was the clause at the bottom. Weekly pay, with a minimum one week before any pay was made. I could smell a rat.
"Ah, yes," the asari, Maleina, said. "It's... not a job for everyone."
"What exactly is it?"
"It's shit," she deadpanned, sitting back on her chair and smiling. For effect. "That is what you humans would say, I believe. Rulame Maintenance is in charge of the sewer and recycling services of the Citadel."
"Well, not glamorous, but for what they're paying..."
"It is not the first time I heard that," she replied. Nonetheless she raised her omni-tool and started sorting through it. "Very well, I'll forward the information to Shala."
"Shala?"
"Your future boss." She looked up from her omni-tool and smiled. "I send her so many people that we're on a first name basis."
"Oh. Great."
"Can you start today?"
I shrugged. "I can start right now."
"She will be thrilled, I'm sure."
"… even a quarian?" Mikhailovich said, the distaste in his voice obvious.
Shepard bit her tongue. She was in a bad enough mood as it was, and now she had to hear a stuffy admiral with a stick up his arse badmouth her engineer. Luckily for her, she wasn't the one who had to answer.
"We are part of the larger galactic community," Anderson said. Mikhailovich all but rolled his eyes, but the captain wasn't done. "This mission is too important not to accept the help of other races. Moreover," he added, pointing at Shepard, "we are about to join the Spectres, and perhaps the Council itself. We have to show how we can work with others."
Nice. Anderson still managed to surprise her, even after all this time. She didn't have it in her to play politician. Hell, if she hadn't managed two weeks with Roy, she wouldn't last a day with the Council.
She needed to go out there and find him. Him, and a bottle of something horribly strong. At this point the best solution she could see was for both of them to get drunk and have it all out. How long was Mikhailovich going to go on for anyway?
"I see your point, but this is the Alliance's most advanced ship."
"It is. And our quarian engineer has already suggested three improvements."
"We should have never mixed politics with this ship," Mikhailovich muttered.
"Can't say I disagree with that, sir," Anderson replied.
"Aliens aside, you have left an unvetted civilian loose with information on this ship, you-"
"Morgan is completely reliable," Shepard snapped, stopping just short of insubordination. Before she could say anything else, Anderson raised his hand to ask for calm.
"Morgan has been an invaluable resource," Anderson said, "and proven himself to be trustworthy."
"If he is so reliable, why have you released him?"
"It was his choice, we weren't taking him prisoner."
Shepard pursed her lips tightly, keeping her mouth shut. It was too damn hard. Mikhailovich had found faults with everything, which was ironic given how he was bitching about the fact that the ship was supposed to be part of his fleet. So it appeared that the Normandy was grape flavoured after all. Extra sour.
Well, at least Anderson had good answers for him.
"Hm, it is still a security risk."
Whatever.
"I shall send my report to the admiralty," Mikhailovich said. "It... won't be as negative as I had first expected."
Like I care.
"Good luck Captain. You're humanity's representatives, as you say. Make us proud."
"Yes sir," Anderson replied.
"Commander."
"Sir," Shepard replied, saluting.
Mikhailovich stepped out, closely followed by Anderson, who gave a kill me now look to Shepard as he passed. She had to restrain herself from laughing and undoing the hard work Anderson had put in. With a shake of her head, she stepped out and followed. She hadn't gotten three steps when her omni-tool chimed in. Alenko.
"Yes?"
"Erm, we just got a delivery for Roy, commander."
"A delivery?"
"Yeah."
"I'll be right there."
A delivery for Roy, what the hell? Who'd be sending him anything? Maybe he did some online purchase before arrival, though that sounded strange.
Well, she had time to ponder on the lift ride down.
The door opened to a still very empty cargo bay, and three people hanging around the requisitions officer's counter. Williams, Alenko, and of course, the officer himself.
On the counter, she immediately recognized Roy's armor case.
"Who sent this?"
"Uh..." the Req looked at his omni-tool. "Serrus Guns."
"Oh."
Did he have it upgraded? That'd make sense, given how he'd been treating it. Or maybe he had bought an upgraded one. Shepard turned the case around and opened it. Of anything she had expected, what she didn't expect was to see Roy's armor as it was originally made. Alliance colours, with the original pink pattern. With the way the thing shone, most of the plates were new too.
Shepard picked up one of the pieces and looked at it closely. Yep, brand new. Roy hadn't just left his armor behind, he had gone through the trouble of getting it fixed and repainted somewhere else before throwing it back at her face.
She slammed the case shut, the sound summoning silence through the cargo bay. Dammit. She took a deep breath, thinking.
"Uh... commander? We also got this for him," the Req said. Uniform. Cleaned and pressed.
"Of course you did," Shepard deadpanned.
Any further discussion was cut short by a chorus of omni-tool chimes. Everyone immediately checked them, including Shepard. It was a general recall order. Return to the Normandy immediately, new and urgent orders to be issued.
Dammit.
"Vakarian!" she called, making for the lift. She didn't need to look back, but heard the distinctive steps of a Turian rushing to join her.
"Shepard," he said as soon as he caught up. The two of them stepped into the lift, and waited until the doors closed.
"Do you still have your contacts at C-sec?" she said.
"Of course, Shepard. They aren't just contacts, they are like family."
"Really?" she gave him a look. "You were quick enough to dump them and join us." She paused, and then huffed in annoyance. At herself. "Sorry, that was uncalled for."
"It's not a problem," Garrus replied. "I left the job, not the people. The people are my family. The job was rules and shackles. It felt like I was fighting both the criminals and the system. I couldn't take it anymore."
"Rules are generally there for a reason," Shepard said.
"Not always for the right reason," he rumbled. "I have seen you and Nihlus break them in more than one occasion."
"Necessity may make you paint outside the lines, but following them is best for everyone."
"Not for everyone," Garrus muttered.
Broody, angry, she was touching on something very personal for him. She could guess it was one of the real reasons he had left C-sec, not just because he heard the call for fun and games with the Spectres.
"But you asked about my contacts," Garrus said, closing that conversation. Shepard made a mental note to get back to it next time. "What do you need?"
"I need you to keep an eye on Roy. He's on the Citadel."
"He is staying there?"
"Maybe, that's what I want to know. I want to know what he does, who he talks to, everything."
"You want us to interrogate him?"
Us, that wasn't lost on Shepard. Neither was the slightly hopeful tone in Garrus' voice. He still hadn't forgiven him for the doctor's death, even though he must have known it wasn't his fault.
"Nothing so drastic. Just watch him."
"Sure, I'll ask my partner Ian."
"Ian?"
"Yeah, he's human. You would like him," Garrus replied, his mouth opening into a toothy grin.
"Great. I want to know his every move."
"Why? Do you think he's planning something?"
"I don't know, but I doubt he'll just sit back and relax. He knows something, and sooner or later he's going to act on it."
"You got it."
The lift finally dropped them at the mess level, and they both walked up the stairs towards CIC. Activity was frantic, with the crew already preparing for launch. Anderson was up at the podium directing everything.
Should have been tested in the lab my ass, that setup is perfect, Shepard thought.
"Captain, what's going on?" Shepard said.
"We just received a report, contact has been lost with Feros."
"Feros?" Garrus said.
"It's a small corporate colony," Anderson said. He pointed at the galaxy map, highlighting a system. "Attican Beta."
"That's not a good place to have a colony," Garrus said.
Shepard nodded. Much too close to the Traverse. Wild space. Too small a colony for it to be regularly patrolled by the Systems Alliance as well.
"What is so important on that planet for a corporation to start a colony?" Shepard said.
"It's a prothean world," Anderson said. "Prothean ruins cover most of the planet's landmass. The colony was founded to start exploring those ruins."
"A corporation has claim on a known prothean world like that? How did that happen?" Garrus said.
It was a good question. Most claims were for unexplored planets with potential for something useful, not a planet filled to the brim with prothean artifacts. No corporation had that kind of pull. Should have that kind of pull.
"Matriarch Benezia."
They all turned to the newcomer's voice. Nihlus. He was walking down the CIC towards them, and he didn't look too happy.
"Nihlus," Shepard said. "Whatcha got big guy?"
"A kick in the ass, as you humans would put it," he replied, his subvocals growling angrily. "The Council wasn't happy about Therum, but we managed to secure Liara, so they let it go. It's not going to look good on your record, Shepard."
"Well, I'm a bad girl," she said, winking at the Spectre.
"Shepard, I don't know what you're used to get away with in the Systems Alliance," Nihlus replied, "but the Council like quiet, clean results. This is as bad as I've seen during a Spectre mission."
"The day's still young, I bet we can top it with Feros," Shepard said, her smile intensifying.
"Shepard! We-" Nihlus stopped talking, and the look on his face changed as he realized what Shepard was doing. "Very funny," he deadpanned, his subvocals betraying the fact that he was indeed amused.
"So, Benezia," Shepard prompted.
"She's a heavy investor in ExoGeni, the corporation in charge of Feros."
"The Colony was founded in 2178," Anderson said, bringing up the dossier on the central console.
"So Benezia has been working for Saren at least that long," Shepard said.
"Perhaps," Garrus interrupted. "A lot of Asari money has been funnelled towards human colonization efforts. It's a booming market, Asari colonization efforts are slow and methodical. Humans colonize aggressively, and are open to external investment."
Nihlus nodded at that. "Yes. We turians look for dextro-amino worlds. Much less abundant, and we keep them to ourselves. The only ones who could compare to human colonizations are batarians, and nobody wants to invest with batarians."
That got a chuckle out of everyone.
"Still, to pull something like that..." Shepard said, looking at the map. "That's a lot of prothean tech."
"They have to report any findings," Nihlus replied, but only got a look from Shepard. "I know, I know."
"Does Benezia really have the political weight to pull this off?" Anderson said.
"She does. Or at least, she did," Nihlus replied. He stopped to think for a few moments. "Garrus, I need you to coordinate with C-sec, get me a list of Benezia's properties and interests."
"It will be a long list," Garrus said. "Wouldn't a Spectre be able to access that information and more?"
"I will. I want to compare the two lists, see what's been kept out of C-sec. Try to keep me out of the queries."
Smart cookie, Shepard thought.
"Not a problem," Garrus said.
"Okay, the crew's all here," Anderson said. "We're ready to go. Shepard?"
"We are missing a Mako," she said.
"It will be at least three hours until we can find a replacement," he said. "We'll have to make do. Anything else we're missing?"
The question was obvious. No Mako, but she could live without it. All the crew was there. Her team was there, except for Roy. Supplies, she had put an order for Spectre grade weapons with the Req, but it wasn't critical.
"We're ready Captain, let's go."
Shala, my new boss, was an asari. Purplish skin, tall, with yellow face makeup that stood out so strongly it was almost garish. She gave me a very clipped greeting, tossed me a datapad with the details on the job, and told me to read it as she led me towards the work area, where a quarian was waiting. She wasn't wasting time, let me tell you. In fact, she didn't even ask my name, she read it off the file and just made me follow her.
The offices were close to the Presidium, as well as the entrance to the sewer system. It all looked very high tech, not what I expected. I had a mental image of a morlock-like existence under the luxury of the citadel, scrubbing crap away and all that, but it wasn't it. There was a second level underneath the main floor of the Presidium, under the water and the bridges. It wasn't particularly pretty, there was grime all over, but the metal looked in good condition – no rust or broken corners that I could see.
"I'm Mika'Talae nar Nissen," she said, and turned around with a gesture for me to follow. "This way."
She was smaller than Tali. Thinner, too, she was so thin that even though her suit had been pulled as tight as it could, it still looked somewhat loose on her. The suit itself looked old, even for quarian standards. It had been patched and re-patched far too much without the major repairs it needed.
Clearly, someone who was in even direr need of credits than I was.
"I'm Roy," I said, picking up the pace.
"Uh-huh," she nodded, and pointed at a wall. "Put on one of those suits."
They looked like armor suits, but they were a smooth one-piece items. Hazmat suits of some sort? I couldn't tell, but they were mentioned in the datapad they gave me, so I went on ahead and put it on.
"So how did you end up with this job?" I said, trying to make conversation.
"Look, I don't mean to offend you, but you'll probably be gone tomorrow, so let's get this over with."
…
Right.
I shrugged as I put the helmet on, the OSD greeting me with an all clear. It was a very simple OSD, of course not showing kinetic barriers or anything else. Once it was secure, Mika sealed the outside door, and opened the hatch in the middle of the room.
Then the smell hit me.
It came even through the suit's filters. Let me tell you, I've smelled shit in the lab (literal and figurative shit) that would peel the paint off the walls, but that smell, that was something else. I found myself gagging even while inside the suit.
Bloody hell.
"Oh ka'she!" Mika shouted. "Come on!"
She bolted down the hatch, and left me scrambling to go after her. There was a ladder going down, and she had slid down without even bothering with the steps. By the time I got to the bottom, she was way ahead of me. Over my head, the hatch closed automatically.
The place was surreal. It was like a labyrinth of narrow corridors and colour-coded pipes everywhere. Mika stopped at one of the junctions to check a terminal, which gave me enough time to catch up to her.
And yes, the smell was getting worse.
"What's going on?" I said.
"One of the exchanges has broken, can't you smell it?"
"I can smell something all right. What's an exchange?"
"You are about to find out, follow me!"
Thus, we ran. We ran for like half an hour, and I do mean ran. For ship-bound people who live in cramped quarters, quarians sure can run fast. And on every step we took, the smell got worse and worse. When we arrived to our destination, I finally got to learn what an exchange was.
There were several species living in the Citadel, and each one of them had very different, very alien biology. This, of course, included what ended up in the sewer system. As long as things stayed separate, it wasn't a problem, but when they mixed... Well, let's just say that a whole lot of microorganisms that had no business ever being together found themselves a little party to create some chemistry that was never, ever supposed to happen in the known Universe.
And one of the exchanges had blown up.
…
For the sake of my own sanity, as well as everyone's breakfast, I will spare the details of what happened that day. We spent six hours in the foulest, most vile place I have ever experienced. By the time we were done with the cleaning and the repairs, a whole twelve hours later, the only reason the suit didn't have to be washed inside as well as outside was the fact that I hadn't eaten since the last time I threw up.
Not great.
And all through the day, I could tell my quarian colleague was enjoying herself. Not because of the filth, but more because of my reactions. At one point, when we finally had all the leaks closed, I sat down and started laughing until I gave myself hiccups. And why not, I had come to save the galaxy, and I had ended up cleaning the toilets of the Citadel citizens.
Not even that, actually. It took me ten minutes to recover from that giggle attack.
When I came out of the chemical shower (of which I had taken three, one of them in full hazmat), twelve hours later, I found Mika already clean and packing things away.
"I never thought I'd welcome the smell of a chemical shower," I said, raising my arm to smell the shirt. Yeah, nothing left there. Ever had that feeling that a smell is stuck in your nose, even through you know it's gone? Yeah. But at least I could tell I didn't smell anymore.
"I am starting to dissolve the joints of the suit, because of all the showers I take," she replied, her eyes narrowing in amusement. It was amazing how expressive her eyes could be.
"And I can believe that," I said, laughing. "So, same time tomorrow?"
"Y-Yeah, you're coming back?" She sounded as awed as if I had revealed myself to be a prothean.
"Sure," I said with a shrug. "Can't get any worse than today, can it?" I looked at her, and when she didn't answer immediately, I continued. "No, better not answer that."
She laughed at that at least.
"I will see you tomorrow, then. Early start."
"If I can get up... Or find a place to stay for the matter," I said distractedly.
"A place to stay?"
"Yeah," I replied. I took my credit chit out of my pocket and showed it to her. "I've got exactly twenty-one credits to last me until I get paid next week. If I can last that long, jeez."
"Oh..."
"What?"
"Be careful, they don't like vagrants on the Citadel."
I could hear the distaste in her voice when she said the word vagrant. It sounded almost like she was putting in it a reflection of how the word had been used on her. She was a quarian, after all. That's what they always got everywhere.
"Not much of a choice," I said, and shrugged. "But thanks."
She seemed to be about to say something, and then have second thoughts. I paused, and waited a bit.
"Well..."
"Hey, if you've got an idea it'd be great," I said.
"Okay. I like you."
… what?
"So I'll show you."
Phew.
She stood up and gestured for me to follow. We moved past the entrance and down one of the three corridors branching from the main maintenance room, until ten minutes later we arrived at another hatch.
"Okay, it's down here. Well, there's more entrances, but this one is close."
"Where are we going?"
"Check this out!" she said, and opened the hatch.
There was a ladder, and as far as I could tell it went down to the sewer level, but as soon as we were down, I realized there was another hatch down there. It looked very different from the normal hatches, like it had been crudely cut from the metal floor. Without another word, Mika went and opened it. Manually. No buttons, just a lever and a pull.
"What on Earth is that?"
"I don't know! I found one by chance, there's like a whole other level down there, look."
I followed her, down another level. The hatch went past a whole two metres of metal before opening to a corridor. It looked completely different from anything above it. The corridors looked like they had been cut into metal, rather than built. Hexagonal, low enough that I had to bend down to walk. And there was light, too. It looked like the lights of a Christmas tree, a rope with glowing bits every foot or so.
"Wow."
"Yeah. I think the keepers use this to move around. It's kind of cool, isn't it?"
"No kidding. So there's like corridors and stuff?"
"Yeah!" I swear, she sounded like a kid with new shoes, showing me all that. "There's rooms on the sides, all of them cut like this," she added, gesturing at the hexagonal shape of the corridor. "If you want to stay in one, I bet no one will bother you."
The prospect wasn't brilliant. I mean, it was eerie down there. The empty rooms were exactly that, empty. Walls and empty, featureless metal surfaces. But given how I didn't have a place to crash, it'd have to do. I've slept on concrete with only a sleeping bag before.
"I think it'll do nicely. Thanks a lot. I can't believe you found all this, nobody knows about it?"
"I don't think so. I had to put the ladder myself to get down here. I've been mapping this for a while, see?" she added, raising her omni-tool and creating a projection. It was a three-dimensional map of the Citadel. It was criss-crossed with tunnels everywhere. And I mean everywhere. She must have spent months on it.
"Wow. You're amazing!"
She looked at me when I said that, eyes big and bright behind the visor. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked away, grabbing her left arm with her right hand and rubbing it in a nervous gesture.
"Um... thanks..."
The trip to Feros was a long one. There was a lot of space to cover, and several relay connections to make. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sure, a planet full of prothean artifacts was tempting, but it was really far, really undefended, and out of any civilized defense force's path. Thus, they had been on the move for sixteen hours, and they had two more to go. One more hour and it'd be briefing time, but until then she could try to enjoy the quiet and the coffee. Or at least pretend to.
What worried Shepard was the loss of contact. If Benezia had funded the corporation which was digging through the ruins, why would their forces attack it? She could think of a couple of possibilities. Maybe whatever it was Benezia wanted, ExoGeni didn't want to let go of. Or maybe she wanted to wipe all evidence and leave nothing behind they could follow.
Neither one looked brilliant for the colonists, which was the real reason why she was worried. They were going in blind once again, but at least they had the best stealth ship in the Galaxy. Still, she'd have liked more information. If Roy was there, she'd probably be grilling him again. Maybe it was better that he wasn't, then. Sometimes she didn't know when to back off.
And speaking of Roy.
"Cleaning sewers?" she said, putting her coffee mug down. There were a few people milling around the caf, but they were keeping their distance.
"Cleaning sewers," Garrus replied, leaning back on his chair. He looked amused by Shepard's incredulous reaction. "The administrator ran a background check on him, and got his Spectre-granted clearance. Is that still valid?"
"As far as I'm concerned, yes," Shepard said, musing. "Why?" she finally said after several seconds.
"It's easy work, and it pays well. All he would need is a strong stomach. The turnover is staggering, he will probably have a new job by tomorrow."
Shepard shook her head. "I doubt it. He's too stubborn."
"If you say so, Shepard."
"I do." She paused to take another sip of her coffee. Double roasted Turkish brew. Strong. Her secret stash was starting to run low. She had hoped to refill it at the Citadel, but she hadn't had time. Damn surprise inspection.
Given the way he was looking at her, Garrus clearly disagreed with her assessment.
"Have you stopped to think this is all he's really able to do, Shepard? He's not..."
"One of us?"
"I was going to say qualified."
Shepard shook her head at that. No, he could have been qualified. He certainly had the gumption for it. All he needed was time, time that she hadn't given him. She had leaned too hard on him.
The fact that she knew why she had done it racked her the most. The irrational response to wanting to protect her crew at any cost. Williams had gotten on with the game, but she had treated it like a proper game. She knew how to dial it back and inject some more humor in it. Hell, the way she walked into the conference room after his blowup she looked ready to-
"Shepard?"
"I never did put you in the same team as Roy," she said. "Maybe I should have."
Garrus stiffened at that, but didn't say anything. Yeah, she had missed the chance. Eventually he'd have to get over the fact that Roy couldn't have done anything for the doctor. Given how things had unfolded, she was dead even before Roy made it to the clinic. In some way, she was pretty sure Garrus knew, too, but refused to let go of the fact that he had gone straight for Tali.
Hm, Tali. Maybe-
Her thought was pushed aside by the sound of a sudden scream, quickly followed by a crash. Shepard and Garrus looked at each other for an instant, then immediately sprang up to their feet. There was another crash, and sounds of struggle coming from the infirmary.
She rushed to the door, and opened it to find something she really hadn't expected. Nihlus and Liara were squaring off with each other. Liara was glowing blue, her left sleeve tinted blue with blood. And Nihlus looked like he was bleeding from a cut on the back of his head.
"What the hell's going on!" Shepard shouted. "Nihlus!"
The turian turned to look at her, and in an instant Shepard knew he wasn't all there. His eyes looked unfocused, darting left and right.
Then he spoke. It wasn't Turian. It wasn't anything she had ever heard. The translator wasn't picking it up either.
"Nihlus?" Shepard said. He growled at her as soon as she took a step closer. "What happened?"
"He's not himself," Liara said. As soon as she spoke, Nihlus turned to her, and Shepard saw her take a wary step back.
Oh hell no.
"Nihlus!" she called. "Eyes on me, big guy."
She didn't get his complete attention, but she got some. He slowly backed away, looking alternatively at Liara and at Shepard. Again, she grunted and said something she couldn't understand.
"Commander, what-"
Chakwas' voice stopped as soon as she stepped in. Shepard didn't have to look, she could hear her steps, and feel her moves.
"Doctor?"
"It's all right," she said, her voice calm and reasonable.
Chakwas took a couple of steps in, heading towards her desk with her hands up at chest level. Now there were three targets – Garrus had, thankfully, stayed behind – and that was making Nihlus restless. She kept looking around, mumbling in that unintelligible language. Lights were on, but judging by his eyes, nobody was home.
"Doc?" Shepard insisted.
"I have this," Chakwas said. For the benefit of everyone in the room it seemed. She reached under her desk, and pulled something out.
Shepard had expected Nihlus to react to that, but he didn't do much. Until Chakwas started walking towards him, one hand raised in front of her. She saw him fixate on her, and on her third step she knew he was about to jump at her.
"Doc!" Shepard called.
It all happened in an instant. Nihlus growled and lunged at her, trying to slash at the doctor with his bare hands. Turians had sharp talons, she knew that well. To her surprise, Chakwas dodged the attack gingerly, then hit Nihlus with a cross left, right behind the mandible. It was remarkable to see. Not only she didn't stop, she hit him on the knee, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. The two of them fell to the ground, with Chakwas on top.
"As I said, it's all right," she repeated. "It'll just take a moment."
Nihlus struggled weakly for a couple of seconds, then went limp.
"Freaking hell, doc," Shepard said. "That's a Spectre."
I didn't even see her inject him.
Chakwas pulled herself up, and had to hold onto the stretcher to keep her balance. Shepard stepped in immediately to steady her, but the doctor just waved her away. She was breathing hard, and Shepard could see her legs weren't at full capacity either.
"I'm getting too old for unruly patients," she said.
…
Unbelievable.
"Now, let's take a look at you, young woman," Chakwas said, turning her attention to Liara.
Hers, and Shepard's too. And everyone else's. A small mob of people had piled up outside the medbay, trying to look inside. A simple glance from her, and Garrus sprang into action.
"All right everyone, show's over. You've got the scariest medical officer I've seen, so let her do her job," he said. He hit the manual control of the door, and it closed with a faint hiss.
C-sec through and through.
"What the hell happened?" Shepard said, turning to the asari. She had sit down on one of the stretchers, and Chakwas was looking at her arm. "What did you do to him?" she added, her tone sharp and accusatory.
"Nothing!" Liara said, jumping in place and wincing in pain when she did. "We were just-"
"Commander," Chakwas interrupted. "Would you mind terribly getting Nihlus on one of the stretchers?"
"What?"
She looked down, and saw Nihlus there on the ground, completely helpless. Maybe it was that, maybe it was Chakwas' interruption, or even her presence. Whatever it was, it cut her sharp words and made her take a mental step back. She was about to lay hard on Liara without even stopping to figure out what had happened... Or even stopping to help Nihlus first.
"Oh... of course."
The turian was heavy, probably because of the armor he never took off. She always thought it had to be incredibly uncomfortable, but she found out turians actually liked the feeling of being "clothed" like that. Something to do with their skin plates, and they didn't mind the extra weight.
Liara hissed again.
"There is no need to worry, it's not as deep as it looks," Chakwas said.
"I'm sorry Liara," Shepard said, her voice now calm and steady. "But what happened?"
"I... I was trying to help Nihlus with the prothean vision, as he called it. I started the meld, but as soon as I touched those memories, he..."
"Yes?" Shepard prompted, putting Nihlus down.
"I cannot tell what happened. He attacked me, and started speaking prothean."
That got Shepard's attention. "That was prothean?"
"Yes. At least I believe so, I have never heard it spoken. I couldn't understand him. I pushed him away by reflex, I didn't want to hurt him."
"You defended yourself," Chakwas said. She had cut away the sleeve, and was cleaning the cut on Liara's arm. "There is no need for apologies."
"I did not do this on purpose, Shepard. I swear, I-"
"It's okay, I believe you," Shepard said. One thing she could say about Liara was that she was not a good liar. She wore her feelings on her sleeve, and her distress about the situation was obvious. No, she definitely had not done it on purpose. "We'll figure this out. What do you think, doc?"
Chakwas turned to give Shepard a glance, and Nihlus a much longer look. Shepard followed her gaze, and looked at the turian. She took a medi-gel pack and some gauzes, and started cleaning the cut on his head. It wasn't particularly deep, and she knew for a fact turians were quite thick in the head.
Specially this Spectre.
She had been so caught up with her own drama that she had failed to take better care of him. She was worried about her own belly button, and in the meantime, Nihlus was working through having to hunt down his Spectre mentor across the galaxy while slowly losing his mind to a prothean beacon vision.
"It is hard to tell," Chakwas said, stopping her thoughts. "I believe this is the first time we've seen a turian interact with a prothean beacon. You can go, commander, he'll be out for a few hours no matter what."
"What? I can't just-"
"Basic triage, commander," Chakwas said. "Nihlus is sedated, you just cleaned the cut, and Liara is bleeding."
"And he'll be out a few hours? We're only two hours from Feros."
"Well, you'll have to manage without him."
Not the point, but... damn.
Author's Notes: Of all the possibilities of things that could happen in the aftermath, scrubbing sewers was probably not something may people were expecting, I bet. Fear not, there is method to my madness! I mean, it should be obvious enough, right? Just think of the possibilities hidden under the regular levels of the Citadel.
On the other hand, we have Nihlus slowly sinking into madness. And if you consider how Feros is supposed to unfold, well, it's a little inconvenient. Yeah, I know, I'm a dick to my characters.
Last chapter had a hell of an impact! Lots of reviews, and lots of support! Thanks! I hope the follow-up didn't disappoint, but it's good to catch one's breath every so often after all that's happened.
general-joseph-dickson: You're probably right. Right now, Roy doesn't even know what to do. Hell, he's not even allowed to go home, that doesn't leave a lot of options.
OpenSourceArtist: Yeah, right now Roy's not even thinking of going back to the Normandy. The most immediate problem is the upcoming attack on the Citadel. Well, before that, the most immediate problem is getting some credits at all.
Mizuki00: Thanks! Your reviews are always so enthusiastic they always make me feel better about my writing :D
And once again, thanks everyone for the numerous reviews, follows, and all the good stuff. Next time, a sentient plant, a man with a plan, and a slap on the face. Who will get what? We'll see!