Disclaimer: I do no own Mass Effect, I do not claim to own Mass Effect, I am only doing this for fun.
Author Notes: We're approaching the halfway point of this season. Spirits, have 12 weeks already passed? Where does the time go? Well enough of my rambling, enjoy!
Episode 12: Omega [Part I]
By lunch time the next day, the Normandy was almost half way through its return FTL hop to the Akoman relay. Joker had orders to top up the tank again before hitting the relays back to the Citadel. The stopover on the Citadel was highly likely to be very short. Needed only because there were things they absolutely had to pick up to make Tali's life on the Normandy as comfortable as possible. Also with the number of dextro people on board now three, Shepard thought it would be wise to requisition a second refrigeration unit and mark it 'dextro foods only'.
Before they entered FTL, Shepard contacted Admiral Hackett via comm and requested that the Alliance send a mop team to help the miners with the damage done to their facilities. She had a feeling that at this rate she would supply the Alliance Corp of Engineers with plenty of work. Her full report was done and set to send just as soon as the Normandy dropped out of FTL and linked into the comm buoy network near the relay. This meant Shepard had a good twelve hours of nothing to do, so she wandered the ship, checking up on people.
It was during one such stopover that the engineers armed her with a report on the field test of the Thanix, how the system took actual combat situation firing. According to Donnelly, the Normandy's oversized core barely registered the power use. The problem was, as EDI slipped in, beyond that. EDI's sensors recorded that the beam hit three degrees off where it should have. While not a problem at the range the Normandy fired, Shepard knew full well where three degrees would lead at longer distances. The beam also widened with the distance beyond expected parameters. With the loss of constriction there was power bleed. Between the live shot, and the data they had from the trial runs, and with no distractions and competing demands, EDI was able to figure out the mathematical ratio of range, constriction loss, and power bleed. She said it would help targeting in the future.
All that meant was that the guns were nearsighted. In theory the Thanix could be fired with the same precision as a kinetic weapon, but in practice, these had a flaw in the tooling. None of it was entirely news, just confirmation of the limitations discovered during initial testing. Alliance R&D officially had no clue how the Turians managed to keep the Thanix guns accurate and focused. Intact wrecks of Thanix frigates were needles in a galactic haystack. That the Alliance had as much as they did was already a feat.
Standing on the observation space overlooking the shuttle bay after she left engineering, Shepard spotted Tali moving about in the starboard cargo bay. From what Shepard could see through two sets of viewports, Tali was working on the geth, probably running that hardware analysis she promised. In the shuttle bay below Garrus and Ashley were at two different armory work tables. Ashley was checking up on the Vindicators the marines used. Garrus was working on his own rifle. At the very least they could work back-to-back without a situation developing. Shepard smiled at that.
She turned and called the elevator to go up to the CIC. Once there, she greeted the monitor shift with a friendly hello and made her way across toward the bridge. Joker was in his seat with his lunch. In FTL the Normandy essentially flew a straight line on autopilot, but it was never a good idea for the pilot to step away.
"Hey Commander," Joker greeted.
"How's the horizon?"
"Dull. Nothing but interstellar dust and gasses," Joker replied.
Shepard hummed but said nothing. Interstellar dust and gasses was good.
"I'm wondering here, how many more misfits are you going to invite aboard?"
"Misfits, really?" Shepard asked.
"Yea. I mean take Nihlus. When he's not doing only-EDI-knows-what in his cabin; he's laying about the OD like some tabby Sphynx. And he's a Spectre, they're all misfits."
"Joker." Shepard said, warningly.
"Then there's Garrus. Now I'm no expert on Turians, but they don't usually quit jobs like that. That one's like a delinquent you're enabling." He went on, as if her warning had never registered.
"You're treading the line, mister." Shepard replied.
"Yes, mom." Joker replied.
Shepard sighed; she was not going to justify that with any sort of response.
He must have heard her sigh, because he chuckled. "You should know though, I don't mind Tali. She… seems like she's trying to help."
Shepard thought that the only reason he had nothing to say about Tali was because he was yet to pick up the ammunition. "I am honestly wondering if I did the right thing inviting Tali aboard." It was best to steer him away from finding said ammunition, even if it involved giving him some of another kind. "Tali is a civilian. Everything starts and ends there," she said, as she began to pace the breadth of the bridge.
"She also went down into that mine, probably knowing she might have to face the geth alone."
Shepard stopped mid-pace.
"Wait. Did I just think of something you didn't?" he wondered.
Shepard did not reply; she did not know what to say.
"Oh hell, I need to buy a lottery ticket!"
"I'm serious here."
"So am I! But alright, can't buy it until we drop out of FTL anyways. Here, I don't think you need to be worried. Not many raw civilians go for a shotgun as a fashion statement self-defense weapon. It's too messy. Most go for the big bang, like one of your poppers. They also pistol-whip themselves in the face firing it the first time. Tali can probably handle herself, and if not, she's going to learn from one of the biggest badasses in the galaxy."
Shepard actually smiled. Flippant as Joker was, trust him to say what needed to be said, one just had to look past the way he said it. He could be offensive, outright vulgar even, but he was more intelligent and observant than he let on.
"I know why you're worried. Kaidan and I were talking," Joker went on. "He told me that you berserk rushed the black geth. He thinks you're reckless. I think you just don't want anyone to get hurt, so you take the biggest risks. You want to protect Tali, but I get the feeling she won't let you."
Joker definitely had a point. Tali had already expressed her frustration about being asked if she was alright one too many times. The young quarian seemed headstrong, brave, and if there was any lack of combat skills, that could be addressed. Ultimately, fighting was not exactly what she hired Tali to do. She needed the quarian's tech expertise, and to be sure Tali seemed eager to lend it.
"Don't think I did not notice." Joker went on, voice lowered, "Your instinct drives you to protect everyone, at personal cost if it comes to that."
Shepard froze to the spot.
"Some would tell you to stop treating others like raw recruits," Joker went on. "But that's not the reason you do it, is it?" he paused then, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You just don't want to see anyone you personally care about get hurt."
"Who enjoys that?" Shepard asked.
"No one," he turned back to the sensors, but Shepard caught a knowing smile on his expression. "And don't worry; your secret is safe with me. But let me ask you this. If you don't want to see any of us get hurt, how do you think we feel?"
Shepard hummed; Joker had just gone for the armor piercing questions.
"Also, I am selfish and thinking self-preservation here, but Captain Shepard will have all our heads if we let you get hurt. I figure Eden Prime still rains charred geth. I shudder thinking what she'll do if someone actually hurt you. Now are we done? I'm here to fly this ship, not to play councilor."
"Relax, Joker. I just wanted to know that I'm not out there." That was admitting more than perhaps strictly necessary, but Shepard liked to think that Joker was more objective in these sorts of situations. That by remaining at a distance, above it all, he got to see things differently.
"You're out there. Just in the good way." Joker replied.
"Alright, I get it. Eyes front and keep us on course."
"Aye, aye, ma'am."
Shepard turned and walked away. He could see through her, but Shepard could see through him as well.
"By the way, you're totally welcome!" Joker called at her back when she was already two steps beyond.
Shepard chuckled and picked up the pace. For all his complaints, if Joker truly did not want to do something, he would not do it. He was also the one person on this ship whom she could trust to give her an honest, non-sugar-coated opinion. Joker was hardly intimidated by her position; he knew he could get away with about everything with her, and he exercised his right to that liberally.
They returned to the Citadel in the middle of the night cycle, so when Joker eased the ship into her docking cradle, most everyone who did not have to be awake went right to sleep, but Shepard got right to work. There were supplies to order, including the cooling unit. Given that everything took so damn long to requisition on an average day, she wanted the forms to be on the docket first thing in the morning. Nihlus' Spectre clearances meant nothing to the Alliance supply depot on the Citadel.
She ended up going to bed about three in the morning, and was up after a less-than-refreshing four hours. Just by how hard she had to work to force herself to get up she realized that she had been in her final gear non-stop since Eden Prime. The pileup of things to do was not easing up. Yet she could not afford to throttle down, this was just her lot in life right now.
Thus after breakfast, complete with an extra strong cup of black coffee, she breezed into the OD. Nihlus was lounging on the couch under the viewports, and there were datapads on the coffee table. Shepard sighed; there would be no downshifting for her.
"Bad time?" He asked.
Shepard shook her head, she would have loved to say yes, but did she have the luxury? She bypassed her desk and moved toward the couch. As usual, Nihlus lowered his feet and sat up. She was not going to pretend to understand why he had taken a shine to that particular spot under the viewports. He had to prop up the corner pillow and lay in a very specific manner so that his fringe would not go through the upholstery, but he seemed awfully comfortable nonetheless. Shepard was also glad that he had forgone armor in favor of another of his dark tunic outfits. Armor plates were murder on leather. Was it a crime that she wanted her OD to look better than the commons at boot camp?
"Where's the fire now?" She asked as she sat down.
"No fire." Nihlus replied as he pushed one of his pads toward her. "You said you wished to help me with Eclipse."
Shepard picked up the pad and scanned over the contents.
"I got word from one of my contacts. I know where the leader of the smuggling ring will be for the next four days."
Shepard looked up from her pad. "We do not have a brig on the Normandy."
"Will not need one," Nihlus replied.
Shepard raised an eyebrow, but she would not insult her own intelligence by asking if that actually meant what she thought it meant. There was just one question, how far would her help go? Was the Normandy to be his taxi, or would he need her to lend a gun? "What's the plan?" she asked.
"Omega is a mess of criminals," he launched after a moment. "Eclipse has a sizable presence, but I do not know where specifically D'Aros will be. My contact will have more information once we get there, failing that... we do this in the traditional way." He leaned back into the cushions, giving her one of those penetrating looks he fired whenever he was analyzing, trying to figure something out.
"What do you need me to do?" she asked. She had the impression that he wanted to see if she would object to the ramifications. Someone more idealistic would baulk and say that all criminals needed to be brought in, put on trial, and put behind bars. Shepard saw it a little differently. She knew that if the Council was to start locking everyone up, they would need a penal planet to keep them. Who would fund that? Most of those same people would baulk anew at the first suggestion that they foot the bills. The logistics of doing that were woefully impractical.
Then there were the issue of making lawful arrests in places where the Council had no official recognized jurisdiction. C-sec's authority stopped at the borders of Council Space. Everyone knew that. Spectres were not really above the law; they were outside it. Their authority was institutionalized in Council Space, but out in the Terminus they were no better than any other bounty hunter. The only difference was in who ordered them to hunt, and who benefitted from it. Right now Nihlus probably wanted to see if she could do the job, good, bad, and ugly all in one.
"I am your mentor, and this is a typical Spectre job. No better way to learn what is required of you than to assist me in the field."
She glanced back down at the pad in her hand. It was a dossier on their target, including a candid, long-distance image of an asari clad in the yellow and white armor of Eclipse, Kiarah D'Aros. Colloquially called "Captain D'Aros", like Eclipse was some sort of legitimate military or law enforcement organization and not a band of pretentious crooks. D'Aros was the head of an Eclipse cell of sorts. Her little helpers were guilty of extortion, racketeering, smuggling, the list went on. She probably had enough money to hire a crooked lawyer to get any case made against her tossed out. That was, of course, if she did any crime within Council Space, where C-sec could even press charges to begin with.
"I don't suppose there will be a line of sight good enough to do this clinically." Shepard mumbled.
"Not on Omega, no. D'Aros is a former commando, which means powerful biotics on top of training." Nihlus replied.
"You would have gone after her alone?" Shepard asked.
"Yes." His reply was blunt. "Also, as this is a Spectre job, I cannot allow you to bring your marines."
A fancy way of saying he wanted to see how she could handle such a mission on his terms. Maybe it was for the best that she did not bring her marines. D'Aros sounded like a real piece of work. The conversation with Joker lingered in her mind, maybe she was overprotective, but asari commandos were never easy opponents. Lawless asari commandos that had no line of decency or restraint were even worse.
"But I am willing to allow you to bring Vakarian." He shifted his arms, laying them across the back of the couch, the picture of nonchalance.
The measured tone with which he made that concession told Shepard enough. Everything about this situation was an experiment, something to poke, prod, and measure. "Care to explain why?" she wondered.
"He did not tell you?" Nihlus asked. "He was on the Hierarchy's list of training candidates for Spectre. Though, I have no idea why he never pursued it."
Shepard blinked, mystified. First, it seemed the Alliance was not the only bunch with a list of Spectre candidates, and second, Garrus had been on it? She could see it, all considering. "Whether Garrus wishes to take part in this… is up to him. I will not order him."
"I expected you would say that," he stated blandly.
"You want to find out why he never pursued training, don't you?" she asked. There had to be an angle in this for him.
"I am curious. They do not add individuals to the list who do not show potential."
There it was. The concession was entirely self-serving. Still, at least Nihlus was being honest about having personal motives for a change. There was also the question; would Garrus sit this one out? Somehow, she knew a snowball had a better chance in hell. Nihlus probably knew it too, and thus why he was awfully smug. "You're incorrigible, you know that?" she wondered. At times like these she wondered if tolerating him as much as she did was truly worth it.
"I would not be half as good as I am, if I was not," he smiled.
Shepard rolled her eyes, "Alright. So guess that decides things." Better shift tracks now before the conversation veered into territory she did not want to go into. "If all the things we need are delivered on time, we can depart the Citadel by the evening. I'll let Joker know to point us toward Omega. Is there anything I should know?"
"Not at this time," he replied.
"Well at least I know what I'll be doing for the next couple hours." She said, more to herself than him. If she was going to be facing an asari commando in the near future, she needed to be ready.
As Shepard predicted, the Normandy was on its way to Omega by evening. The trip required three relay jumps as Omega was literally on the opposite side of the galaxy. But other than that, it was a quick jaunt. She ended up on the bridge when Joker made the final jump, and treated herself to the sight of the station on approach. The number of times an Alliance ship visited Omega could be counted on one hand. She knew Admiral Hackett would be less than amused that she took the Normandy there, but there was no other choice.
Omega was the complete diametrical opposite of the Citadel. Both were centers of power, the capitals of their region of space. Law-abiding Council Space versus the lawless Terminus. Both stations were ancient, both having been inhabited for a thousand years. Their dimensions were also similar, and so was the population.
The majority of Omega was within a hollowed-out asteroid, with an exo-structure extending out as a stem, all of it floodlit with ominous red light. Where the Citadel might look like a flower with five petals, growing in a radiant field of pink and purple, Omega was a mushroom, a fungus that not only did not require sunlight, but actively shunned it.
Shepard had Joker bring the Normandy in under main power; they would not broadcast the ship's stealth capabilities. Even before they got too close, they were contacted by the station's control tower. However it was a lot less professional than the Citadel's. They needed a docking cradle, they had to get in line for one, and throwing Nihlus' clearances around would mean nothing. Fortunately, very few ships lingered for long on Omega. There was freighter traffic and passenger shuttles, but nothing too respectable. The voices answering the hails were not exactly welcoming either, for one, the accent gave them away as batarian. Shepard only trusted them as far as she could throw them.
By the time they made their way up the line, the Normandy was guided into a dock right up on the edge where the asteroid ended and the exo-structure begun. The cradles here were relatively large, and well maintained. Shepard was under no delusions; she knew they would be the most monitored as well. An Alliance ship coming into dock had attracted attention.
"EDI, I want you on alert. Someone might get the bright idea that they can help themselves to the Normandy."
"Rest assured, Commander, I will not allow anyone unauthorized to access the Normandy or her systems," the AI replied.
"Can you access the docking controls and release the clamps in an emergency?" Shepard asked.
"If I am ordered to do so, it will be done."
"Good." If she was going to be away from the ship with Nihlus, she wanted to ensure that the Normandy could make a clean break if things got toasty. The chances of it were slim, but they were not at zero. Better safe than sorry.
Shepard left the bridge and made her way across the CIC toward the elevator. One last outstanding issue needed to be taken care of. One the elevator arrived; she stepped aboard and hit the button for deck three.
When the door opened again, Shepard looked up and stopped.
"Commander."
"Garrus," she replied mutely. Just the individual she wanted to talk to and it looked like he had been on his way somewhere. "Is something the matter?" she asked.
"No. I wanted to discuss something with you, if I could."
"Of course," Shepard grinned. Laughter drifted from the mess area behind the elevator shaft. It sounded like the crew was having their fun, which meant that deck three was not going to be the best place to discuss anything. "Where would you like to talk?" she knew full well that they would end up in Life Support. Thus she was not at all surprised that Garrus went back to his quarters and she had to follow.
As soon as the doors shut behind them, the ruckus from the mess area dropped to half-volume. The space was as immaculate. The only sign that it was occupied were the weapons that now took up the shelf, and the small folding table brought in, on which Garrus' armor was neatly laid out, ready to be donned. There were some items lying tucked into the shelf corners, a kit for cleaning weapons and armor, but overall the space looked very sparse.
Garrus stood by, dutiful, his hands clasped behind his back. Did he think she was conducting a surprise inspection of his living quarters while she was here? "So, what can I do for you?" she asked.
"If I may be bold, Commander, I wanted to talk about the roles of the non-Alliance crew." Garrus ventured.
Shepard raised one eyebrow, which caused him to shift his weight from foot to foot.
"I understand the unique position Kryik occupies aboard, and now Tali has adopted some of the duties of an engineer. This leaves me uncertain of what responsibility is expected of me."
Shepard smiled, "Remember what you said when you joined the crew? You volunteered your services as a soldier. By my understanding, that is limited to the same role as Chief Williams or Corporal Jenkins, though admittedly outside the rank structure. If that is all you wish to do, that is all I expect. I did not assign Nihlus or Tali those second duties. Nihlus is… I have no real authority over him, and Tali volunteered to run detailed diagnostics on the geth."
"I see. Then I suppose it is only fair that I off- erm… volunteer my skills." His mandibles flicked playfully.
"Oh?"
"I overheard Engineers Adams and Donnelly discussing the main battery at breakfast."
Shepard squashed her instinct to tense up.
"The Alliance has done a passable job of reverse engineering the Thanix system, but… I can make the guns better."
Shepard froze to her spot, was Garrus truly offering to look at the Thanix cannons? "I will not and cannot ask you to do that. I don't think the Hierarchy will take too kindly to the idea of someone helping the Alliance to the Thanix system."
"Technically I am not helping the Alliance to anything they do not already have."
Shepard shook her head, "And when do politicians of any kind care for the word 'technically'? No, I will not ask you to do that. The Thanix we have is… flawed. If it suddenly improves, everyone will wonder." It would also put her into a rather awkward position, the same sort as sitting on what she knew about the Citadel security compromise. Technically it would be dereliction of duty for her not to hand over even slight improvements to Alliance R&D. If the Normandy was ever called into dock for work on the guns there would be no hiding any improvement either. "I'm sorry, Garrus, but I just can't let you fix whatever issue we got. We are stuck with the guns we got, and they seem to work… well enough."
"I understand, Commander. It is your ship. But- at least- well they were discussing the energy draw; I think I can optimize it. You can say the improvements were made by Donnelly."
Shepard tipped her head to the side; it seemed like he really wanted to play with the guns. She sighed, "Alright. But… I want you working with Donnelly and Adams on this." She figured the engineers would not let him tweak too many of the bugs out of the guns.
"I will get started on that as soon as possible."
Shepard cleared her throat, "That's… there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Nihlus has a Spectre mission lined up… and well-" Okay this was awkward. How did one go about explaining this? "He does not want the marines to come along on this one. Really, his initial idea was a two-person operation."
"If you need my assistance, I will be there."
"Well it would be nice to have a third, but it's not me requesting the assistance, he made an exception for you specifically," she smiled wanly.
He watched her for a long moment in silence. Shepard knew there would be a storm brewing in a manner of seconds.
"Does Kryik not trust the others to have the skills?"
Shepard honestly wished it was that, because if it was that, Nihlus would have had an actual leg to stand on. There was a gulf of training between her and the marines. ICT training also came with the mental conditioning to handle nasty jobs like this. "No, it's more that he wants to see your skills. He knows about your Spectre training candidacy."
Garrus went rigid and his brow plates drew down, casting dark shadows over his eyes as his mandibles drew tighter to his chin. "He needs to mind his own business."
Shepard sighed; she knew this would be his reaction. Garrus did not like Nihlus, and while they agreed to a sort of armistice, this was effectively a breach of it. "That is why I am not requesting your assistance in any manner. I will not hold it against you if you choose not to do this."
"I will be there, Commander. I do not trust Kryik not to have another ulterior motive. I will not let him be your only backup on this."
There was intensity in his voice that instantly put her on alert. A thought flashed through her mind, the most cynical aspect of her psyche slipped in unbidden input. Was she about to bumble into a trap? To be sure, Omega was the right sort of hell-hole where the death of any single individual would not create a fuss. With a smaller team it was even easier to rig up an accident. She shook her head to banish those thoughts. She would not let herself doubt Nihlus every time her mind could come up with a way a situation could be used to sabotage her. If Garrus still had suspicions, they had to remain his own. "When should I brief you on this?" She asked.
Their late arrival on Omega created a stir among the crew by next morning. After breakfast Shepard went to the OD on the search for her mentor and partner. Though she had discussed the basics of the mission with Garrus the evening before, there were still details to hash out. Not seeing him at breakfast was not all that strange. Yet two steps into the OD it became evidently clear he was not there either, which officially stumped Shepard.
She was just about to ask EDI to ask her where Nihlus was hiding when the door swished open. Shepard turned; almost expecting it to be the Spectre in question, but it was Tali with Lieutenant Adams. The chief engineer led the way into the room, but Tali hung half a step back, her hands behind her back.
"Commander, may we have a moment of your time?" Adams asked.
"Yes, of course."
"Erm… Commander, I was asking Engineer Adams some questions about the Normandy… I was curious and well, we kind of got talking-" the Quarian took a deep breath. "I think I know where you might be able to get the T6-FBA Couplings."
"Great. What do you have in mind?" Shepard replied. Contrary to what some might think, the engineering parts were still on her list of things to get, but they always seemed to get knocked down by other, seemingly more important things. The engineers never said a thing, but she really would have liked to get those parts for them. If Tali could solve the issue, Shepard would not dare to say no.
Tali wrung her fingers together, "Omega is a good place for salvage, lots of old ships are sold here, mostly for scrap, but… some can be fixed. My people come here on their pilgrimage, hoping to buy something to bring back to the fleet."
"Miss Zorah believes we have a good chance of finding the parts with any of the salvage dealers here," Adams added.
"Great, well…" Shepard knew whom to send with them, especially given that they would not be following her on her job. "Take Alenko, Williams, and Jenkins with you and bring a sidearm. This station isn't exactly the Citadel."
"Yes, ma'am." Adams nodded.
The two left after that, with Tali walking next to the engineer with a spring in her step. Shepard watched her go and smiled faintly. The girl was really trying to be helpful, perhaps trying too hard, but Shepard would not rain on her parade. This took care of a little side problem, it would keep the marines busy. Now she had to tell Joker that he would be in charge of the ship while they were away. She also needed to discuss security with EDI. With the bulk of the fighting force away from the ship, the situation posed a possible safety risk.
An hour later the part-hunting group departed and Shepard came up from the shuttle bay, armored, and packing her arsenal. Nihlus and Garrus, similarly arrayed, were waiting for her by the airlock. Nihlus needed to meet his contact, and he seemed convinced that they would be able to go after their target right afterwards. Shepard had her doubts, but she was not going to voice them out loud.
Once they were beyond the Normandy's clean, well-lit CIC deck, it was like stepping into a whole other world where nothing was the same. Two breaths taken and her nose prickled at the stale, almost fetid air. The dock corridors were hardly lit, and whatever light there was, was not meant to mirror sunlight. Its reddish hue extended every shadow and every corner gained the ominous possibility of ambush. There was litter on the floor, and the dark grey walls looked black. It was as if the whole station was desperately trying to be the exact polar opposite of the groomed, polished, and immaculately ordered Citadel just out of spite.
They followed the long corridors, and Shepard cast looks into every nook and cranny. Not for some curiosity, but because her sense of danger was tingling. It was a good twenty minutes before they exited the dock station. The space seemed to open around her and one glance up said enough about where they were. There was actual space here, tower-like buildings rising up from a flat base. Beaten skycars zipped overhead and she knew that if she focused hard enough she would see a rock ceiling somewhere up there. They were within the station's hollowed out asteroid mushroom head.
"So, where we're off to?" Shepard asked in a whispered tone as she continued to scan about.
"My contact is meeting us at a favorite nightclub in this area," Nihlus replied.
Shepard cast her gaze about again, and then stopped cold. Staring at her across the street was an alien with four eyes, clad in a beige and black jumper suit. She had to restrain herself from glaring back, which might just be dangerous here. No matter how much she wanted to be better than that, she was still ambivalent about batarians. She knew that on the individual level not all of them were monsters. However at the end of the day, culturally, they practiced slavery as an institution and an industry. Hegemony slaves were little more than cattle, and there was no way to rescue them all without triggering an open war. That was enough to get her hackles up. Slavers were right next to raw sewage on her list of nasty things.
Then the Spectre moved, seemingly unaware of the glare war she was trying not to have with the alien across the street. Her danger sense continued to prickle, but then Garrus slipped into the space on her right, which blocked her view across the street. Eventually her ears picked up the first reverberating pounding of a bassline coming from somewhere and the batarian no longer mattered.
Nihlus led them onto a sort of open plaza at the end of which was what looked and sounded like a nightclub. Music of dubious quality echoed from within, the bassline already thrumming in her head. Most curiously, there was an elcor bouncer at the head of a sizable line of people waiting to enter. The whole structure looked vaguely like a pyramid-shaped temple, steps up to the door, with a large holo-screen over it flanked by flame emitters. There was real, naked fire, on a space station. Shepard went out on a limb to assume that the ducts had not seen cleaning since installation. Together it would explain the air quality.
"Please tell me your contact is not meeting us in there," Shepard murmured.
"I would be lying," Nihlus replied. "It is a good place to talk and you know it. The patrons are too distracted by drinks and dancers, and the music is a mix of frequencies that mask conversation."
"This bassline would muffle even our subvocals," Garrus added.
Shepard had to admit, when put like that, going in there was a sound idea. She just hoped she would not develop a headache in the interim. Her armor's emergency medication module contained painkillers, but they were meant for something a little more severe than a migraine induced by stale air and bad music. She idly wondered if the atmosphere had similar effects on them, but thought it better not to ask.
It took a good half an hour to enter the club; they had to stand in line with the rest of the crowd. Shepard spent the time just trying not to show her mounting sense of unease. When they were finally allowed inside, she honestly wished they could have had the meeting outside. They had to pass through a corridor lined with holo-screens that projected yet more fire, and everything seemed to be lit up with red/orange lights that were beginning to grate on her. Past a set of inner doors, the floor of the club was vaguely circular, with the very center dominated by a large pink-hued holo-projection roundel that came up from a level below, complete with asari pole-dancers on an elevated catwalk around it. There were bar counters and elevated seating areas. It looked like this was the face of the club; the real party was probably on the level below.
"Classy," Garrus said. "So is this like Chora's Den on the Citadel?"
Nihlus spared him a side-long look, but said nothing.
As they moved deeper into the club, Shepard surveyed the surroundings and patrons. There was a mix of turians, asari, humans, and in the midst of them all, batarians. She was officially not in her happy place, but she would be dead before she admitted that to her companions. "Where's this… friend of yours?" Shepard asked as she turned to Nihlus. It was a bit of a tactical choice to not use the word 'contact' right now.
"He said he would have seats somewhere here," Nihlus replied.
Shepard followed him around the holo-roundel, right past an asari definitely trying to crawl into a human's pants right there in the club. Nihlus stopped about halfway to the back, at a seating area. Most of the tables were occupied by inebriated patrons, but one table for four in the corner only had one turian seated, and judging by the lack of condensation on the glass in front of him, he had been there for a while. He wore grey scratched up armor, had at least one side-arm that she could see, dark brown plates, gold eyes, and no colony markings to speak of.
"There you are, I would have come out to get you, but that would mean losing these seats," the turian drawled. "These are… new friends?"
"You could say that," Nihlus replied.
"Sit. We will talk."
Nihlus eased onto a seat across from the barefaced turian, which effectively left the flank seats. Shepard decided to stand behind Nihlus while Garrus took up position nearby, it looked like neither of them wanted to sit next to a complete stranger.
"Come now, tawny, I do not bite."
It took Shepard a moment to realize the turian was addressing her, and though she was not sure what 'tawny' meant, his smarmy tone was unmistakable. "Call me that again, and you'll be unable to bite," she replied.
He laughed, "That one got spirit. I like her."
"Janus," Nihlus' said, voice lowered, almost growling.
He leaned back in his seat and raised his hands. "Fine," then he reached into a pouch at his side and withdrew a piece of folded up paper, which he slid across the table in Nihlus' direction. "The address, and before you ask, I double checked. I do not want you coming after me for bad information again."
Nihlus took the paper and glanced at its contents. As far as Shepard could see, it was written in some Turian script. She would need her omni-tool's recognition and translation program for it. The Spectre folded the paper back up and tucked it into one of his pouches. "This will do, Janus."
"So that is all?"
"That is all," Nihlus got up from his seat, but he never took his eyes off the other.
Janus' mandibles flicked in amusement, but then he turned toward Garrus and raised his hand, "Word of advice for you, Cipritine. Get that armor repainted. You will live longer."
Garrus glared, his disdain was obvious for all to see.
"Do you antagonize everyone you meet for laughs? No other hobby?" Shepard murmured.
Garrus glanced at her.
"Spirited and perceptive," Janus said, his mandibles spreading into a smile. "Lovely waist too."
"If you two are done, we have somewhere to be." Nihlus said.
Shepard said nothing, because at the end of the day, Nihlus was right. They did have somewhere to be, and someone to kill. Fortunately for Janus, it was not him. She spared the barefaced turian a glare before she followed Nihlus with Garrus walking at her right. The hair on the back of her neck was upright the whole way to the door, as if the barefaced turian's eyes were still on her.
Something about him just bothered her, and it was not his questionable comments. Shepard could handle any lewd pervert. No, there was something else. He was not the typical snitch or informant. They tended to be a little more subdued, used to getting by. The worst were spineless, the sort that would sell out their own mother if they got roughed up thoroughly enough. This one was anything but spineless. Was it merely the difference of species?
"Something about that bareface is… wrong," Garrus murmured as soon as the doors closed behind them and they were in the narrow flame-lined hallway leading to the front doors.
"Indeed," Shepard replied.
"So, the question… is Kryik so oblivious… or-" Garrus stopped there.
"You think we're walking into a trap, don't you?" Shepard glanced up to meet his blue eyes.
"That is always a possibility with spooks involved."
"He supplied me with information before, and there was only one time it was wrong, albeit only technically. My target was still in the district, just not in that particular building." Nihlus explained.
"Let's just hope this time is not that time all over again." Shepard murmured.
"For his sake, it best not be."
Shepard remained convinced the whole venture was a bad idea the whole way to their destination. Going up against a bunch of mercenaries, including a former asari commando with just three people did not settle well with her. If she normally could have explained it as herself being overly-cautious, after meeting Janus, she could not help but feel like there was a reason to be overly-cautious.
Their destination was in the stem section of the Omega mushroom, in the so-called districts of Omega. Down here the air was no fresher or more circulated, and the lighting no brighter, perpetually casting a twilit gloom over everything. What constituted as streets were narrow covered passages lined with tightly-packed structures, little more than pockets of space let to rent or ownership. All of them painted that desolate dark grey color, as if covered in soot. Even the valiant attempts at wall art seemed somehow muted, whether by age or grime.
Some structures were clearly tenement-like apartments, small overcrowded rooms that housed Omega's teeming, impoverished masses. Others were shops, discernable only by the small gaudy neon signs mounted over doorways. The floor was filthy, and in spots tacky, clinging to the soles of her boots. She did not want to know with what. Aside from the ubiquitous litter of foil food wrappers or nutrient paste packets she also saw at least one corner where a few old-fashioned hypodermic syringes lay abandoned.
If the Citadel kept its unsavory elements well hidden under a polished veneer, tucked into the corners and underbelly of the wards, Omega flaunted its decay like a badge of honor. The population was a mix of humans, asari, turians, batarians, and the odd salarian living side by side, all sharing the same general squalor and misery. Once or twice they passed dirty-faced, rag-clad, leery-eyed children playing right on the street. They scattered out of the way just as soon as one noticed the three of them had weapons. Homeless individuals gathered in the spaces between structures, seemingly wearing all they owned as they sat around, glassy-eyed, and clutching bottles of liquor that probably cost a week's worth of tossed change. There were haggard-looking hookers as well; scantily-clad, and unabashedly displaying themselves near the doorways of tiny dumpy local dive bars.
Shepard was acutely aware that Garrus' gaze kept flicking from side to side as he took in the sights. Hers was likewise scanning, though she had her eyes out of for any sort of danger. The dark spaces, long shadows, eerie lighting, none of it allowed her to feel any sort of comfort. There would be no relaxing for her until she was back on her ship.
In the end, they must have walked at least a few kilometers down the length of this section of the station's stem. The tenements and tiny shops slowly gave way to larger structures, some with visible pipes connecting them to the hull of the stem. Sprayed-on graffiti slowly changed as well, going from the efforts to liven up a neighborhood, to outright gang tags in a myriad of sizes and languages that Shepard could not read. Some were sprayed haphazardly on top of each other, creating a mess. Yet it was the neat ones that drew her eye, places where something was first painted over with a coat of ill-matching grey paint, only to be sprayed with another tag, one in predominantly yellow and white colors.
"We are entering Eclipse territory," Nihlus announced.
"Kind of obvious by the wall art," Shepard replied blandly. "I can't read the script, but the tags are all the same, and no one else seems to use yellow and white around here." Shepard slipped her hands down to her hips and turned on her guns as she looked down the length of the street. She could only see three doors for some distance, two on the right, and one on the left. Shepard brought up her omni-tool and fired up the electronic detection tool. The application scanned for specific wireless signals that gave away hidden cameras within a certain range. A few pokes revealed nothing, so that was not going to be way to find the place.
"So where is their compound?" Garrus asked.
Nihlus pulled out the folded slip of paper and handed it to the former detective. Shepard hummed, if she was a betting woman, and she was, it made sense for Eclipse operation to occupy a big, if not the biggest piece of real-estate in the area, simply because their tags monopolized space already. So she made her way toward the single door on the left. A few seconds later she heard footsteps behind her, as well as the whine of weapons powering up.
The console on the door was red. Shepard tapped it, but the status display blinked and then fizzled out of existence. It was then that she saw the warping on the door halves; something had bent the edges inward, creating a gap between the sliding panels. Shepard placed both her hands level with the warping and slipped her fingers into the gap. Nihlus and Garrus raised their weapons, barrels pointing into the doorway.
When Shepard pulled, the doors sprung open without the need to lay in any real exo-frame-assisted strength, revealing a near-pitch-black maw. The turians stepped inside immediately, flashlights coming on, sweeping the chamber's corners.
"Clear," Garrus said with a distinct note of disappointment in his voice.
"I have a bad feeling," Shepard said as she followed them inside. "The door is broken. Someone forced it open and left marks."
"And a dead mercenary," Garrus said. His assault rifle's flashlight beam trained on a salarian clad in familiar yellow and white armor. The whole front section of which was just gone, the plates shattered, his green-hued blood all over the remains and splashed in places on the floor around him in a very tell-tale radiating pattern. "Shotgun with shredder rounds at close range."
"There is one more here."
Shepard turned her head; the Spectre stood over a human mercenary slumped against the wall, likewise clad in Eclipse colors. There was no obvious damage done to his armor that she could see, but blood had part-welled-part-frothed up from his mouth and dribbled down his chin onto the floor between his legs. "Drowned in his own blood," she mumbled.
"His back armor is cracked," Nihlus announced.
Shepard looked up along the wall behind him and quickly found a spot three quarters of the way up where there was obvious denting and tell-tale drag scratch marks. She would bet a thousand credits there would be yellow and white paint chips in all of them. The elevation revealed something in of itself. "We're looking for someone physically strong enough to pry open the doors. They also have biotics, but the shotgun tells me they do not avoid the up close and personal."
"The damage on the salarian is horrendous. Any gun that can lay this spread will have a lot of recoil. We can rule out the perpetrator being a human, asari, or salarian. No offense meant, Commander, but I am aware of the force required to fracture human bones, a gun that can do this would have more than enough recoil for it."
"None taken, Garrus. What's true is true."
"You really think there was just one perpetrator?" Nihlus wondered.
"Just one," Shepard repeated. "Look at the trajectories." She stood right in front of the door, "Our assailant opens the door, steps in…" she raised her right arm, pointing at where Garrus stood, "Salarian response times are faster, so bam, shotgun blast, the salarian goes down. Then one arm movement throws the human into the wall with enough force to break his ribs and drive fragments through his lungs. He would be stunned by impact, and then quickly unable to breathe as his lungs began to fill with blood."
Nihlus hummed, "Alright. None of this changes the operation. We assume they are still here and follow the trail of bodies," Nihlus said. "If they are not, and every Eclipse is dead, we still need to confirm whether D'Aros is among them."
"Aye, aye… sir," Shepard replied as she drew her guns. This was definitely the last sort of spanner she expected to foul the works. Someone definitely wanted a whole bunch of Eclipse dead, and they were either bad news themselves, or sent someone seriously powerful to do it. As far as Shepard was concerned, she wanted every Eclipse in this place to be dead, even D'Aros. She did not want them to be only mostly dead, and then actually meet the individual responsible for this gruesome picture.
Nihlus took point as he led them through the doorway at the back, deeper into the building. Shepard hung at the back. Maybe it made her callous, but was it wrong to wish to avoid having to fight someone who made such brutal short work of mercenaries? Those kills were efficient and impersonal; she would even call them professional. The overkill was by dint of weapons used, not rage.
The space beyond the antechamber opened up into what looked like a warehouse floor. Here the lights were turned down low, just enough to make navigation possible. Support pillars held up the roof and the catwalks up above. Between the pillars there were rows of racks stacked with crates of various sizes. It looked like whatever this was; it was certainly no small operation.
Nihlus and Garrus fanned out into the first side rows to scan the sides of the place. Shepard stayed in the middle, though she could definitely see there were no living enemies left. The silence was so absolute that it seemed impossible someone other than them was there, mercenaries were not known for stealth capabilities.
She passed by the bodies, noting only their positions and how they died. Her mind catalogued the shotgun wounds and biotic feats as she looked for evidence of a potential second assailant. Yet all of the kills were consistent. Shotgun blasts to the right, biotic kills to the left. The directions showed her that the assailant used biotic mnemonics with their left arm. Whoever it was definitely possessed a certain amount of professional ruthlessness, as if killing four people was just another day at the office.
Near the back of the space she paused when she saw a slight break in the pattern. The last mercenary was neither thrown, nor shot. His helmet face-shield was smashed, remnants of it still stuck out of the frame. A spider-pattern of cracks radiated from a central impact over his forehead. Classic direct blunt force trauma and his corpse slumped against a row of crates in a rather undignified haphazard manner that told her he died on his feet. Probably held upright long enough for his body to relax enough so that only gravity had a hand in his final pose.
Shepard saw a light beam and half-heartedly raised Sin, but she recognized the outline of the person materializing around the corner and lowered her arm. When he finally closed the distance, Garrus stopped right over the mercenary as well.
"Spirits."
"Are you two not finished playing detectives?" Nihlus asked as he appeared from the other side.
Shepard ignored him, she was sure Garrus would give him a due look for the both of them. She crouched down, slipped her hand to the back of the mercenary's neck and felt around. "Neck's badly broken. I can't feel a single whole vertebra."
"Had to be something big to do that," Garrus turned and scanned their surroundings. Shepard followed his lead. If their assailant used a weapon of opportunity, it would be nearby. Yet within seconds she knew it was not. There was nothing at all loose around them. For being dingy and dirty, the warehouse was surprisingly orderly. Their killer was not interested in loot either.
The absence of a murder weapon certainly left only a few possibilities. She looked back down at the mercenary and inspected the damage to the helmet. "The butt of a big shotgun could not do this. The pattern is quite wide. He got hit with something just once. See the center indent? The weapon had a rather broad ridge aligned vertically. Now this is a crazy thought, but… the door, the shotgun, this… what if he was headbutted by a krogan?"
"Are you suggesting our mercenary-killer is a biotic krogan?" Nihlus stepped in, his tone suddenly no longer light and amused.
"Why not? It's consistent with the evidence."
"The Commander is right," Garrus added.
There was the unmistakable, but dulled swoosh of a door opening somewhere nearby. Shepard jumped to her feet and the turians turned their weapons in the direction of the sound. A large shape materialized from a side room. It was a tall, heavy-framed bipedal being with a pronounced hump on his back. His footfalls heavy, and the way he moved he did not appear at all bothered by the weapons trained on him. Standing at close to two meters with his hump, and weighing probably over half a ton in armor, it was a Krogan.
"I was wondering who was following me," he rumbled. "A human commando, C-sec, and… hmm… a Spectre. Sounds like the setup for a bad joke."
Shepard only registered one thing; for all that they figured out about him, this krogan had just pegged them for who they were with just one glance.
"We are here for the Eclipse, not you," Nihlus said.
"Is that so? Lower your guns then. One slip and I will add you to the wall décor." His body flickered with a tell-tale flash of violet-tinged energy. Not even a field, just an overt display that he could generate one.
"Nihlus, Garrus, lower the guns. He is not our enemy." Shepard said.
The krogan snorted, "Figured someone would have to give turians their orders."
Nihlus and Garrus looked like she backstabbed them, but the muzzles of their weapons drooped lower. The krogan likewise lowered his shotgun and straightened to his full height as he stepped out of the shadows.
The additional light revealed his armor was not the nearly brown color it first appeared, it was in fact closer to crimson. Though it bore no identifying marks, and certainly no white Blood Pack insignia, which was a good thing. He carried a massive shotgun in his hands, and as their gazes met, Shepard realized that even his eyes and visible forehead plate were some shade of red. The latter was scarred, with three or four pronounced slashes, looking like claw marks, going over the center of his crest, down the right side of his face and to his neck.
"There, that wasn't hard, was it?" he rumbled, clearly enjoying the whole situation.
"Let's not antagonize each other," Shepard replied. "I am Commander Shepard, we are here for the Eclipse. By the looks of those bodies, you're here for them as well."
"I am Urdnot Wrex, and you are mostly right. I am here for D'Aros. Those bodies chose to defend her." The krogan corrected.
Was he an independent mercenary? It looked like it. Shepard did not want to ask, just in case he was not, it might set him off. "It seems our goals coincide. D'Aros' people extorted my people. How about temporary cooperation?"
"As long as I get to kill her, I have no problems with that. Your turians look like they will need all the help they can get." The krogan said.
"My turians?" Shepard replied.
"You are in command, no?"
"Yes." Technically, she thought to herself.
"I know your name." Wrex went on. "A lot of people know your name out here. A single human killed a whole bunch of mercenaries and slavers before they even saw her. You made them look bad." He chuckled. "As one warrior to another, I can respect that."
"Well thank you, Urdnot Wrex." There was no other way to respond to that. The Krogan were a race of born warriors who lived by an old code of honor. The biggest badass got the most respect while humility was seen as a weakness.
"Let's do this. D'Aros is going to rue the day she was born when she sees us."
Somehow Shepard thought that by 'us' he meant him and her, not Nihlus and Garrus. Whatever beef he had with turians, she wanted no part in it, and she did not want to know its origin either, not right now. After seeing what he was capable of Shepard would do just about anything to avoid having to fight him as well. Fighting one long-lived biotic a day was enough for her.
She glanced first at Nihlus and then Garrus. The former seemed amused by this turn of events, the latter looked more worried. She turned and grinned at Wrex, "I don't think she'll have a lot of time to rue anything."
The krogan guffawed so loudly the sound echoed off the walls.
Author Notes: I kind of let my inner CSI and Criminal Minds lover out to play with this episode. It is something a little bit different than what we got in the game, but then my idea is to use all the odd talents the Normandy's crew has, that means Garrus' investigative skills as much as his technology and sharp-shooting skills.
General Notes:
Surprisingly, none…
Chapter Notes:
Turian slang – I kind of want to run with a bit of slang here, that turians do have it. I mean the term "bareface" is basically slang. In ME, during the Lair of the Shadow Broker DLC, Liara mentions that "azure" is Illium slang for a certain part of the asari body. By extension, "tawny" becomes is such a comment to a human female. I imply that asari and human females, to some, are too similar, and Janus is a shameless ass.