Disclaimer: I do no own Mass Effect, I do not claim to own Mass Effect, I am only doing this for fun.
Author Notes: I had a great deal of fun writing this episode, along with 21, and 22, which form the "Noveria Arc". You'll know why soon enough.
Episode 20: Noveria
The Normandy reached Amazon system on its last hour of fuel, but the hop let Shepard finish her report so it was ready to transmit to Admiral Hackett just as soon as they were within tightbeam range of Amazon's relay comm buoy. With their tanks nearly down to fumes, Shepard ordered Joker to jump to Arcturus and get in line at the depot to refuel and so the Normandy would be at hand if Admiral Hackett had something for them. It was either that, or Widow, and Shepard knew full well that the lines at the Widow depot were longer and less sympathetic to an Alliance warship.
Just after breakfast Shepard went up to her domain in the OD. Arcturus shone through the viewports as the Normandy came alongside one of the smaller semi-automated fuel depots that orbited the system's second planet, Eirene. It was up to the engineers to ensure refueling went smoothly from there. So while their helium-3, hydrogen, and antiproton reserves were topped up, Shepard lapsed into routine work.
She would have liked to do more research on Cerberus, but the image she had saved for EDI had ended up a bust. Apparently whoever cleaned up the system did not just format the drives; they used a VI-assisted program that first wrote over every data cluster prior to formatting over the junk files, physically destroying what a simple format would have left behind. The only way they could have been more thorough is if they strapped explosives to the physical hardware. She was not happy, but also not surprised. It all fit the pattern; Nepheron had been an important facility. Banes apparently took care to scrub it thoroughly. Maybe leaving the empty, functional hardware behind was just another insult; he was confident in his victory over her.
The ship with the two running guards had also ended up being a bust. When the ship jumped out of the Voyager Cluster, EDI pinged the relays for their signature. They took Amazon to Hades Gamma, from there to the Exodus Cluster, and then Local Cluster. If Cerberus had some hole to hide on Earth or Mars there was no way to wholly follow. The Local Cluster itself was quite barren, with Sol being the only system of note within the ship's FTL range, and the Sol System itself had enough traffic that the ion trail of a ship that size would cross over with an untold number of others, even EDI did not have the sensory resolution to untangle that Gordian knot. Shepard was not surprised, she would bet that the two men realized they were lucky to be breathing and decided to run home. Shepard hoped they would realize their mistakes and learn from them, but she would not hold her breath.
The OD door opened and Shepard looked up. Nihlus strode into the room with the rigidity of being on a mission.
"Shepard, how long until the Normandy is refueled?" he asked.
"Good morning to you too, Nihlus." Shepard replied and turned back to the pad in her hand. She had not seen him at breakfast, probably ate in his cabin. She had a feeling there was a reason for it. EDI allowed him access to the Normandy's communication array. As long as they were linked with a buoy, Nihlus had a functional communicator in his cabin that allowed him to receive orders without using the Normandy's communication equipment. "Refueling is going to take another hour. We are taking on antimatter. There are safety protocols to follow and I will not rush Adams, not even for the Council."
"Good morning, Shepard." Nihlus sighed and sat on the couch extension.
Shepard glanced up, "So, where's the fire?" she asked. Right now, she really hoped the Council was twisting Nihlus' arm to handle some mercenaries. She could use the diversion of doing something straight-forward.
"There is no fire. Noveria is actually quite cold." Nihlus said as his mandibles gave a flick of amusement.
"Wiseass," Shepard murmured. "So what's on Noveria?"
Nihlus leaned back in his seat, and all humor drained away. "I submitted my report to the Council, and I had to mention the Rachni parts we saw on Binthu. Now, I cannot tell you how the Council knows, just that they do, but there is rumor that a lab on Noveria has been doing research on the Rachni. And not the benign archeological work sometimes proposed for Suen. Not somewhere like Noveria."
Suen, the Rachni home world, a tidally locked toxic wasteland even before the Krogan descended on it with nuclear bunker-busters during the Rachni Wars. Anyone who wanted to do work there was looking at hellish conditions; a combination of radiation from the system's sun, the natural toxicity of the planet, and the nuclear fallout that at best had only reached half-life once. Work there was only ever proposed, no one in their right mind actually wanted to do it.
Noveria was a hell of another sort, an ice ball well deserving a name shortened from 'Nova Siberia'. Barely above category one cold hazard and ill-suited for actual settlement it was perfect for high security containment laboratories where the cold created a natural hindrance to things getting out. It was only the dubious oversight and policy-making of the definitely-for-profit Noveria Development Corporation that put Noveria above places like Binthu and Nepheron.
"Sparatus mentioned that another Spectre was assigned to follow up on the lead. I am sure you understand why Rachni are a concern. My presence would be further surety that the situation is… contained."
Shepard noted his pause. Just what was he privy to that he did not want to share? Nihlus was most definitely withholding something, she knew him well enough to know when he was deflecting. He never actually lied, but he did love to omit details.
"If you are interested, we should be on our way as soon as possible. The assigned Spectre is… not known for patience." He went on.
Shepard hummed. He definitely knew who it was. But it did not matter. She could work with whomever as long as it was worth it. If this lab on Noveria was cloning Rachni tissue, then it could explain how the facilities on Binthu got their parts. Maybe there was a trail to follow; the Noveria lab's systems would have records of deliveries made. If she could connect Noveria to Binthu, then she would be interested where else parts were sent. "I am definitely interested."
"Good," Nihlus gave her one of his big grins and got to his feet, "I have messages to send."
"No rest for the weary." Shepard sighed as soon ad the OD's door closed behind him. Well she could not slack off on this one, an investigation never waited. Still, she was reaching into her energy reserves. Even her ability to handle this sort of stuff was not endless. After this, she would have to come down on Nihlus. They needed a break, maybe a week of straight leave, somewhere nice and warm, maybe with a beach. Shepard wanted a day or two just to laze around on a lounge chair. The Normandy was an Alliance ship; they could very well request a week off at some Earth resort. She was sure that even the non-Alliance crew would enjoy it.
To get from the Arcturus Stream to the Pax system of the Horse Head Nebula involved a double jump through the Exodus Cluster. There was no need to run stealthy when the Normandy made approach on Noveria six hours later. The sight of the planet from the window of the OD brought Shepard out of her abode. She made her way across the CIC and toward the bridge, Nihlus at her heels.
"We're here, Commander." Joker said as monitored the controls.
Shepard was not at all surprised that he had been listening for her arrival. Noveria spread in front of them like a milky white marble streaked with lines of grey. Its nearly unbroken cloud cover full of ice crystals had a strong albedo effect; the planet almost glimmered in Pax's direct sunlight. At only 0.87atm of pressure and 0.81g, and despite being closer to Pax than Earth was to Sol, Noveria's atmosphere was too thin and too reflective to work as a thermal blanket. So despite being within the star's goldilocks zone for a garden world, it just did not have the correct conditions to be one.
Joker tapped at the communication links, "Noveria Approach Control, this is the SSV Normandy. Requesting a vector and a berth."
"Normandy, your arrival was not scheduled. Our defense grid is armed and tracking you. State your business."
"Citadel business. We've got a Council Spectre aboard."
There was a long pause and Shepard glanced at Nihlus.
"Landing access granted, Normandy. Transmitting vector and berth coordinates now." The comm finally replied. "Be advised: we will be confirming identification on arrival. If confirmation cannot be established, your vessel will be impounded."
Shepard blinked, stunned.
"Coordinates received, control, beginning final approach. Normandy out." Joker replied coolly, but then turned to look at her over his shoulder, "What a fun bunch. I think I'll take my next leave here."
Shepard was not amused at this threat of impounding an Alliance warship. She glanced at the Spectre standing to her right, "Nihlus, let's not turn this into an incident where I'd have to show them that they can't impound us."
"That will not be a problem." He replied, turned, and exited the bridge.
For all their sakes Shepard hoped it would not be. She knew that there was no docking system in existence that EDI could not hack and release, but she did not want to have to do it. "I'll leave you to it, Joker."
"Aye, aye, ma'am!"
She turned and made her way toward the elevator. Nihlus wanted her in armor and ready to go as soon as the docking clamps were attached. Apparently whoever they were set to meet was indeed that impatient. She was honestly beginning to worry.
The Normandy was shown to a large covered docking cradle blasted into the side of a mountain just below Noveria's de facto capital, Port Hanshan. The planet's topography was such that one had to do with any rock to build on, even if the rock in question was a mountain face. Noveria's glaciers were kilometers deep and any climate controlled structure built on the ice without expensive shielding would slowly sink into it.
Shepard met Nihlus at the Normandy's airlock and the two went through the equalization cycle together. The docking bay was like the mouth of a cave, the wind outside resonated across the lip and echoed in the cavernous space despite the atmosphere-retaining mass effect field at the very edge. Everything was a rather bland beige grey color, and dimly lit at that. The Normandy was too long for this cradle; her rear end passed through the retaining field even as her nose was almost flush with the back edge of the cradle itself. The ship itself was held fast by every single set of docking clamps that were there, and it still looked rather awkward. As Shepard walked out onto the U-shaped suspended walkway surrounding the cradle, the computer in her armor revved her suit heater and her helmet HUD flashed a temperature plunge to zero degrees centigrade.
A faint flash of red from her left made her realize there was a second, identical docking bay running parallel to theirs, and it was not empty. Floating in it, moored to a set of identical docking clamps was an abyss black ship. At around the same length as the Normandy, its blunt, straight, gun-like profile, and tell-tale wing-like stabilizers folded under its belly identified its construction readily. Though the Hierarchy fleet was normally clad in a rather bland beige-grey main color with burnt-orange or terracotta red accents on the stabilizers, this ship was undeniably a Turian frigate.
"That is the Impera." Nihlus tapped her shoulder. "You might not want to stare too long; there are dock-hands who will tell you that staring into the paint gave them nightmares." He added as he moved past her and down the walkway toward the docking bay exit.
Shepard followed, "You're kidding, right?"
"I am a Turian; we do not have a sense of humor," he grinned.
"Wiseass." She mumbled and glanced at the black ship one last time. It had no portholes that she could see, and then there were those blinking red warning lights, otherwise the paint seemed to consume every bit of light, reflecting nothing back. Shepard imagined that it would utterly vanish against the backdrop of the void of space. Even if visual identification was rarely used, if this ship allowed its engines to cool, it could be right there and no one would see it. There was something unsettling about that.
As they came around the corner, Shepard saw three armed figures standing by the glass double doors that led into the port proper. Two women and a turian, and they looked like they had their weapons ready. Nihlus did not break pace as he approached, and neither did Shepard, though she began to think that Joker was on to something.
"That's far enough," the woman in charge called as soon as they drew near.
"We're not here to cause problems." Shepard replied.
"This is an unscheduled arrival. I need your credentials." The woman replied.
Shepard did not particularly like this woman's haughty tone, she spoke as if them coming here was a personal inconvenience to her.
"And you are?" Nihlus asked matching her disdain.
The other woman's eyes narrowed as she gave the Spectre a rather withering stare, "We're the law here, show some respect."
The dark haired Asian woman in charge glanced at her blond colleague but turned back to the Spectre, "I'm Captain Maeko Matsuo, Elanus Risk Control Services, Port Hanshan security. Your credentials, please."
If Shepard was to guess, Nihlus was not impressed, the look in his eyes was frigid. It was like looking at two heavy-weight contenders size each-other up before they got down to having a nine-round fight over a title. This woman had an ego, but Nihlus had his pride. Shepard knew she best step in, before the bell chimed for round one. "This is Council Spectre Nihlus Kryik. I am Commander Shepard, Spectre candidate; we're here on official Citadel business."
"Load of horsecrap, ma'am. A second Spectre? A human Spectre candidate?" the blond woman argued.
"We will need to confirm that," Matsuo replied, "For now I must advise you that while Spectres are permitted to carry firearms on Port Hanshan, Commander, I'm afraid I must ask you to relinquish yours."
Shepard glared; no one was so much as touching her weapons.
Nihlus stepped in between her and Matsuo, "Spectre candidates are allowed to carry firearms under the authority of their training Spectre."
"Captain Matsuo! Stand down," a voice called over the loud-speaker. "We have confirmed their identities. It is as the Spectre says; a candidate is allowed to carry weapons under a Spectre's authority."
The blond woman standing next to Matsuo was less than pleased; Shepard wondered if being wrong galled her that much. What was so unbelievable about a human Spectre candidate anyways? She would concede that maybe two Spectres was overkill, but there were reasons for it too, reasons a glorified rent-a-cop did not need to know, and should know better than to expect to be told.
"You may proceed," Matsuo conceded. "I hope the rest of your visit will be less confrontational."
Nihlus turned and moved toward the doors, Shepard followed, "Joker was right," she murmured. "This is the place for a vacation." She honestly could not tell what was colder, the atmosphere or the reception.
The glass doors rotated out of the way automatically. The atrium beyond was split in two levels with a fountain fronting the doors, flanked by two sets of steps to the upper level. The space looked like it tried to be a glitzy business tower atrium at a fraction of the cost. Nihlus took the steps without preamble or even recognizing her vain attempt at levity. Shepard followed without saying another word.
At the top of the steps she saw the drones that hovered over the landing, and as Nihlus stepped near them, an alarm sounded. A dark-haired woman on the left, dressed in a violently pink long-sleeved full-length dress waved to the man at the console in the security booth and the alarm cut off.
"Weapons detectors. Don't mind them," she said as she came around to talk face to face. "I am Gianna Parasini, assistant to Administrator Anoleis. We apologize for that reception. It is unusual for us to receive one Spectre, let alone two and a candidate."
Shepard understood what was being said between the lines, the hired security was jumpy about people who could circumvent the carefully arranged web of protective regulations that allowed the NDC to operate Noveria at a profit. Corporations considered their physical locations to be their sovereign states and their methods and assets as worthy of protection as any state secret. To that end, the security of a corporation was paid to protect assets like they were the heads of state. A Spectre was like a foreign dignitary with diplomatic immunity, someone that could not be kept out, but also a potential disturbance to the moment they departed.
Shepard heard a door open somewhere behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze met a pair of cold silver eyes, and suddenly as cold as the docks seemed, they had nothing on the look the other Spectre gave her. Now Shepard knew what made Nihlus tense to the point that he could barely even muster a grin at a joke. Everything began and ended with the fact that standing about ten meters away, clad in his white and black armor, was Saren Arterius.
"Please go on ahead, your colleague was just in a meeting with Administrator Anoleis, he will be past the elevator there." Parasini said, unaware of what was going on.
Shepard turned back to the woman and flashed her an apologetic smile, "Thank you Miss Parasini, but it would seem Spectre Arterius has…" she glanced back over her shoulder, the withering look on the other Spectre's face had only gotten harsher, and Shepard suddenly could not find the right terms to finish her sentence. 'Come to meet us' did not seem right for two reasons. First, Nihlus said he was impatient, she knew what that meant, and second using 'us' would be a blatant fallacy. Saren was definitely not happy to see her.
"Nihlus, did I not tell you that this matter is above your charge's clearance?" He asked.
No greeting, not even for his own former student. His tone was cool, free of open animosity, but Shepard bristled all the same, because it was all clearly there in the subtext.
"You did. But I remember I disagreed." Nihlus replied just as calmly as he turned to face his former mentor.
The withering look turned on Nihlus, but he showed absolutely no reaction to it. Then it vanished and the white-clad Spectre turned back to the elevator. "Come."
Nihlus moved without a second thought and Shepard followed. That single word was unmistakably an order, and Saren expected no argument. Shepard could not believe her rotten luck, but she supposed that if the matter at hand had to do with Rachni, the Council would send their best, and it made sense that the best would be their longest-serving Spectre.
"What are we looking at? Rachni?" Nihlus asked as the three of them stepped into the cabin.
"Sources indicate the lab on Peak Fifteen has been experimenting with the Rachni, yes." Saren replied.
Nihlus glanced down at her and Shepard nodded. "We encountered Rachni body parts used for research on a recent job on Binthu," she volunteered.
The elevator door opened and the three of them stepped out and moved down the hallway. She did not miss the fact that Nihlus stepped into the space between Saren and her, a living buffer.
The passage opened up onto what she assumed to be Port Hanshan proper. The space was no less trying and failing at glamour on a budget as the dock below, with high ceilings, grey walls, flowing water, and huge panel windows that showed the snow squall outside. If one asked Shepard, she would say it was more depressing than glamorous.
"Human lack of foresight never ceases to amaze me," Saren observed.
Shepard had to force herself not to react to such blatantly obvious baiting. "This has nothing to do with foresight. If scientists are experimenting with cloned tissue, the ethics might be questioned, but it is essentially harmless. The Rachni communicated over vast distances without using technology as we know it. Their method is poorly understood. There are grounds for simple scientific curiosity." She could not believe she was indirectly defending Cerberus. There was nothing good in their methods and end-goals.
"Humanity's curiosity would subject the galaxy to the Rachni if given the opportunity." he sneered.
"If poorly handled there is that potential for it, yes, but that outcome is the only thing we ought to prevent. Pure scientific pursuit should not be abandoned merely because some potential outcomes are undesirable." She glanced at Saren, but with Nihlus between them, there was no way to make real eye contact. "Truly, if people avoided pursuing advancements just because of potential undesirable outcomes… the first individual to notice fire's potential as a tool would have instead put it out as a hazard and never considered it again. And then where would that lead?"
"She got you there," Nihlus mused.
Shepard knew where his argument was really coming from, and it had nothing to do with science, and everything to do with who pursued it. He also did not like her, and so would be argumentative just as a matter of course. "Shall we agree to disagree? I realize that you do not like me as a person. That is your right, and I will not try to dissuade you. But I am here to fulfill my duties, both to the Council and the Alliance. In the interest of carrying out our respective duties, I suggest we do not pursue personal conflicts."
The white-clad Spectre sneered.
Nihlus chuckled but quickly bit the sound off with a false cough when Saren turned his glare on him.
She also suspected some little part of it had to do with the prevailing galactic consensus. The Council was surprisingly conservative when one thought about it. They tended to react with knee-jerks and enforce the comfortable status quo. This was most evident in their fear of artificial intelligence. Shepard truly believed that all advancements had to come with safety regulations, and mistakes would happen, but those were a fact of life. Stifling advancement never worked in anyone's favor.
"Now, my interest in the matter is simple." She went on, only pretending to be oblivious. "We connected the scientists on Binthu to Cerberus. If the scientists at the Peak Fifteen facilities are likewise affiliated, then that's more proof that Cerberus is an organization and not merely an image. In that case, I have reasons to do everything in my power to stop them."
"Fine, human. You have made your point. Do try not to get in the way."
Shepard knew better than to be seen rolling her eyes.
"So we are off to Peak Fifteen?" Nihlus asked after a moment of silence.
"We would be, if you had arrived an hour sooner," Saren replied. "Anoleis is using a snowstorm descending over the valley below Peak Fifteen as an excuse to keep us bound here. The shuttles have been grounded and he refuses to issue a vehicle pass until it is over."
"So, Anoleis is cooperating in name only." Shepard hummed.
"Anoleis works for the Noveria Development Company, which are still nominally subject to Citadel conventions. He does not want a galactic incident on his watch. Because if we go there and find living Rachni... regardless of how well the company handles litigation, his head is on the chopping block." Nihlus glanced down at her.
"How typical," Shepard shook her head. Still, it was something that some corporate middleman feared the fallout of letting Spectres on Peak Fifteen more than he feared having a Spectre within a hundred meters of himself personally, especially when that Spectre was as sociable as Saren Arterius. There was definitely something going on at that laboratory that the administration wanted to sweep under the carpet as soon as possible. "He won't issue, but he can't be the only one with passes, we just need to find someone else." She finished. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard saw Parasini come up from the docking bay, it was rather difficult to miss the woman in that violent pink dress.
"I have no intention of going around asking," Saren argued, his distaste palpable.
"Wait a minute, Saren. I know what you are about to suggest, but we cannot do that either. Sparatus wants this done quietly. Taking the Impera's runabout will be the definition of loud." Nihlus jumped in.
"I thought the human would be useful for something," Saren argued back.
Shepard froze, "I am not breaking a Councilor's orders, getting my ship impounded, and causing an incident that will require the Alliance to come down on the NDC. That would look rather bad on my performance review." He really ought to try to be a little less obvious.
The white-clad Spectre spared her another one of his withering looks.
Nihlus was grinning again. "Shepard is right; we need to get a pass from someone other than Anoleis."
Shepard crossed her arms and glanced at the assistant, was she listening? Were the Spectres aware that human ears were not that bad?
"Shepard, what are you thinking?"
She turned her head, "I am thinking who might have passes. Obviously there are other labs on this planet, people have to come and go, who decides that? I imagine project leaders, head researchers, lab administrators..." It was a deflection if there ever was, but Shepard was aware that Parasini was interested in them. The woman let them through the gates with barely a slap on the wrist. If Anoleis was obstructionist, his assistant seemed to have an agenda of her own, far more than a simple secretary ought to have.
"Fine, we will investigate who might part with their pass. We will meet here in an hour. Human, do not do anything without our authorization," Saren said, turned and walked off.
She watched him go; did he really think she would follow his orders just like that? She was here under Nihlus' authority. If she wanted to do something, she only had to report to Nihlus, and maybe not even then. She knew her mentor was not the micro-management type, he trusted her judgment pretty far.
"He will try to find something on Anoleis; it would be the most direct route." Nihlus said.
"So what's your plan?" Shepard wondered.
"I will look around. You- do not take this wrong, Shepard, but you are human and not a Spectre." His green eyes had a peculiar twinkle, one of his mandibles flicked in a grin. That little bit of amusement told her there was a second meaning to his words.
"Yea, yea. I know my responsibilities." She affected a tone of hurt, but the mirth in his eyes was still there, and so she knew he got the jest. Finally he nodded and walked off in the same direction that Saren had gone.
Shepard put her hands on the railing overlooking the lower level of Port Hanshan as she watched her partner try and pretend he was not out there to find dirt. By now everyone at Port Hanshan had to know there were Spectres afoot. From there the assumption would easily be that the two turian strangers with the arsenals were them. She was just a little powerless trainee girl. Of the three of them, she probably had the better chance because she would not put people on guard as much.
"I get the feeling you do not get much respect," a voice said to her side.
"Story of my life," Shepard replied and glanced to the side; Parasini slid into place where Nihlus had been. "Spectre Kryik is not that bad, but… Spectre Arterius is a jerk." She affected the aura of a weary, underappreciated assistant-type, just in case. It was hard to miss the swiftness with which Parasini moved in. Was she waiting for them to disperse to make an approach all along? Shepard could see it. Saren hardly invited someone to confide in him. Nihlus was right; she was more approachable, and if she played along, she would be more relatable as well.
"They are certainly unique," Parasini noted. "Almost as unique as Mister Lorik Qui'in, administrator of the Port Hanshan's Synthetics Insights office. He actually does work in the hotel lounge. If you need something to do for the hour, you should meet him, he's quite the fascinating conversationalist."
Shepard raised an eyebrow.
Parasini looked at her omni-tool, "Now excuse me; I am needed in the office." And just like that, the woman walked off.
Shepard watched her go, and it took a moment to realize that maybe that had not been just idle talk. Did Administrator Anoleis' assistant just put her on a trail? It was as good a lead as any. She found Nihlus on the level below and their eyes met, and he nodded, and Shepard knew he had been aware of Parasini being there all along. She turned and walked down the length of the path toward the neon sign that advertised Port Hanshan's hotel.
Port Hanshan's bar lounge was inside the hotel, at the top of another elevator across the main port plaza. Once Shepard exited the elevator she found herself right on the lounge floor. The place was not entirely impressive, essentially set up in the similar style as the rest of the facilities. The environment was livelier though, the bar was full of customers, and she could not see a free table anywhere. There were one or two ERCS guards about as well.
She scanned the scene, a vast majority of humans, but there were a couple salarians and a pair of asari seated in a booth having an animated discussion over datapads even as they sipped drinks. Then, seated in the corner, Shepard spotted a lone turian. His plates seemed to have an ombre pattern, light grey on the face darkening to chocolate brown toward the back, which worked with his colony markings, bars of white that framed his face and splashed over his forehead. He wore a rather expensive looking dark suit, and held a datapad in one hand and a drink glass in another. Working, at a lounge, he had to be Qui'in. The only empty seat in the house was right in front of him, convenient and not-so at the same time. Now how to make approach? She could not very well go up to the table and start asking questions, could she?
Well she was not local, and she was supposed to be the underappreciated, overworked assistant girl for a Spectre, now cut out of the action. It was time to act the part. She took a slow, circuitous route toward Qui'in's table, as if looking for a seat. It allowed her to take note of the patrons, some looked up, some eyed her weapons, but the majority simply gave her a quick look and turned away. That was good, it meant no one cared about her being there. Maybe they did not even know what an N7 logo stood for, nor made connections to the Spectres about. It was entirely too typical of self-absorbed corporate types.
She stopped a few meters away from Qui'in's table, as if contemplating the seat. It was a rather large table, and definitely not a booth, but it was toward the back of the bar. In the end she laid her hands on the back of the free seat and affected her best smile, "Excuse me sir, may I sit here?"
Qui'in looked up, his caramel-colored eyes bored into her a moment but then he set the pad down and sat up straight in his seat, "You may."
Shepard perched on the edge of the seat and folded her hands on the table, one on top of the other, intentionally flashing a cue of discomfort even as she put out the airs of genteel manners.
"What brings you to my table, Miss…"
"Shepard. I am just… waiting. I have an hour while my mentor and his colleague do their jobs."
"Ah. The topic of the day, Spectres on Port Hanshan. They're certain to… what was that Human expression… upset the fruit cart?"
Shepard grinned, but did not correct him.
"And here I am, conversing with the very human candidate. Fascinating." He hummed. His tone was amused and light, and his manner of speech almost coy, but it was still laced with some sharpness. "Now I do not wish to make false assumptions, but you are armed and not drinking, something tells me our meeting is not a chance encounter. What can I do for you?"
Shepard smiled wider, he was intelligent alright. Any other time she should have gotten a drink to seal the act, but this time she did not want alcohol in her system. Nihlus would have forgiven her one little drink in the name of cover, but she was taking no chances with Saren.
"My colleagues and I have some business outside Port Hanshan, but it seems like Administrator Anoleis is keen on keeping us right here."
"So you need a garage pass and I happen to have one. How fortuitous."
Shepard noticed that the coy edge to his tone vanished, the game was up. Had Qui'in been playing with her as much as she had tried to play with him? He did not seem too bothered by a little harmless subterfuge, which was good.
"I am the manager of the local Synthetic Insights office. For the moment at least." He continued in the same straight-forward tone. "Mister Anoleis closed my office; he claims to be investigating reports of my corruption." There was a dismissive note in his voice, as if the accusation was utterly preposterous. "The administrator is an interesting man; he has become quite wealthy since he took direct control of rents."
"I sense a connection there." Shepard mused. It seemed Anoleis was a thorn in everyone's sides. Shepard had not met the man, but nothing she heard made her like him.
"Indeed." Qui'in glanced toward the door briefly, but then leaned forward, one hand on the table, the other on his thigh. "I acquired evidence of Anoleis' actions." His voice dipped lower, quieter, "His hired goons are ransacking my office to find it. Your unique privilege puts you in position to help me, and show Mister Anoleis that it is not wise to obstruct Spectres. If you recover the evidence from my office, I will give you my pass, as well as a sum of credits."
Shepard mulled over this. Was there something above board here? She had no delusions about where innocence lay, there was none. This evidence Qui'in had was going to be used as blackmail. If it was otherwise, Qui'in would not be sitting in the lounge, working, even as he knew there were goons tossing his office. This was a game of metaphorical chess, who would check-mate the other first? But for all of it, Shepard had no reason or desire to help Anoleis. To be sure, sticking it to the administrator would be as Qui'in said, showing him that obstructing Spectres was a bad idea. If Qui'in was not lying, Anoleis was a crook, and she already suspected he was a bastard before-hand. The talk of credits would have to be nipped in the bud though; Shepard did not take kick-backs. All she needed was the pass, so was doing this worth it? Spectres had the right to do as they pleased, as long as they got the job done. If this was just her and Nihlus, he probably would have done it. Saren was a problem though. She would have to do this alone and try to keep her method a secret for the time being.
"Alright. I'm interested." She paused for a moment there. "I assume you will tell me where the evidence is stashed?"
"Of course. However there is one other… oh what is that charming Human expression? Fly in the… lotion?" He met her gaze, and suddenly Shepard knew that the second shoe was about to drop. "Violence against Mister Anoleis' thugs may be necessary. He has members of Hanshan's security team searching my offices and is paying them under the table. Ms. Matsuo is unaware of their outside employment."
Shepard hummed, well this was definitely up her alley. Qui'in did not need to know that she was a covert agent and had a cloaking device handy. She could sneak around the guards, bide her time until they were not looking, and get the data that way. It might take a bit longer, and she might miss her rendezvous with Nihlus and Saren, but if she could get that pass and flash it in Saren's face, any tardiness would be a moot point. "I will retrieve the evidence, Mister Qui'in."
"Excellent." He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out an ID card, "Here is my pass into the office, it will activate the elevator." From another pocket he withdrew an OSD, "The evidence is on my office computer. This OSD contains the key to access it. Slide it in into the drive and it will auto-execute. Oh and try to keep blood stains off the carpets, would you?"
Shepard palmed both card and OSD and got to her feet, smiled somewhat politely, and wandered off. She did not want to look like she was in a particular rush, and she wanted to take stock of the people around them. The bar was reasonably loud, but she could not be sure they were not overheard. She saw no obvious evidence of people watching her go; no one was suspiciously interested in an omni-tool, or even watching her at all. It would not matter really if she was spotted, she could count on Nihlus stepping in, but she would have loved to avoid the necessity for him to do so. Call it a matter of personal pride.
Finding the Synthetics Insights office proved easy enough. The lobby of the office tower section was halfway to the garage, and just as dull as the rest of the facilities. There were more of the ERCS guards here, but a many of them simply ignored her presence. She found the elevator with no problem and slipped inside before opening her omni-tool to access her cloak. Once invisible she swiped Qui'in's card through the reader and hit the button labeled Synthetic Insights. The elevator doors closed and the cabin began to ascend. Shepard shifted to hug the wall, in case the cabin made a stop, she did not want to be discovered if someone bumped into her.
When the cabin arrived and the doors opened, Shepard found herself in a sort of atrium that opened up onto the office proper. It was a rather open space with two floors, the main floor and a loft. The high ceiling gave it a luxurious airy feel, and big windows offered a prime view of the blizzard roaring outside but also let in plenty of muted sunlight.
What caught her attention was that Qui'in was not joking about the carpet. Synthetic Insights had wall-to-wall off-white carpet that would prove unbelievably troublesome to clean if blood got on it. Qui'in was a smug pragmatic bastard, but somehow it amused her enough to hold no particular animosity toward him. She could respect his blatant unapologetic honesty. The carpet worked for her as well. While not particularly plush, merely something to keep the bite of the cold floors off one's feet, it was just plush enough to absorb the sound of her footsteps. It was also relatively old as well; there were trodden paths around and in-between the desks and toward the side rooms. The plush would not show weird footprints.
The office itself was quite functional, but scant. She could see powered down demonstration models of various synthetic assistants, robots with sophisticated VI programs that helped with a thousand and one different tasks. Many of their models helped the elderly and disabled maintain self-sufficiency. Synthetic Insights was also one of the only companies in the galaxy that ran Council-approved and licensed research into AI technology.
As Shepard moved deeper into the space she noticed the ERCS rent-a-cops scattered about. There were three on the bottom floor, with two busy rifling through storage drawers and scanning walls, looking for hiding spots in the most classic locations. Shepard recognized the third as the blond woman who was met them at the docks, which was quite interesting. She turned toward the staircase leading up to the loft portion of the room and ascended slowly. With no carpet on the steps, she had to consciously suppress the sound of her footfalls.
The loft was similarly carpeted, and here there were more desks than product displays. The facility's electrical closet was on the far side of the room, labeled with a convenient universal pictographic sign. Two more ERCS guards, one man and another woman, were going through things. What surprised Shepard was that they still wore their uniform armors, plain as they were, and their weapons. Anoleis clearly hired them to be hands and feet, not brains.
Shepard slid past them to the corner where she spotted an office; it had to be Qui'in's personal workspace just by process of elimination. It had plain glass doors, conveniently left open. As Shepard walked past the outer loft level desks, she kept a careful eye on the two guards and on keeping her movements smooth and fluent, a ghost drifting through the room, lest she expose the faint ripple of her cloak.
Now that she knew the number of people in the office and its layout, it was time to act. Crooked as these rent-a-cops were, she would very much prefer to do this non-lethally, preferably even non-violently. Taking bribes under the table was simply not a crime that warranted killing them, not when she was there to get information that would end up as blackmail. This part was already unpleasant, no need to make it worse.
She slid past the glass door into the office and paused, at the back of the room was a desk and terminal, and seated at it was another ERCS guard. The man was engrossed in whatever it was that he was doing on the terminal. She slowly moved around the table and hovered behind him to get a good look. He had an OSD of his own in the drive, and was working on code of some sort. With a jolt Shepard realized he was the technology savvy one of the whole lot of these crooks. If he found the data, it could turn ugly for her client, if one could call Qui'in that. She also could not access the data with this man still conscious. Shepard tapped at the side of her helmet to shift her HUD to bio-readings, took a slow deep breath, and moved into position behind him.
Her helmet HUD synchronized with the man's vital signs and swift as a striking cobra Shepard wrapped her right arm around his neck, angling his throat to be in the hollow of her elbow, and clapped her left hand over his mouth. The man jolted, tried to shout, but Shepard slipped her right hand into the crook of her left elbow and applied pressure, even as she stepped back, dragging his wheeled chair away from the table so he would not be able to kick its legs to cause noise.
The guard flailed, clawing at the hand over his mouth, her arm, her armor, her exoframe, any purchase he could find. But within five seconds the flailing began to weaken as the blood choke kicked in. At ten his body fully relaxed and Shepard released, though she kept a grip on him to prevent him sliding to the floor. Her helmet HUD still registered a pulse, though it was slower now, and because the choke worked on the carotid and jugular instead of the trachea, his breathing merely slowed down as well.
She lowered him to the floor slowly and then eased into the chair. Haptic keyboards were funny in the sense that they still worked despite the fact that she was cloaked. A few strokes of the keys shut down the compiling code. Shepard yanked out the foreign OSD and tucked it into the pocket of her webbing, a bit of insurance. In a manner of seconds she had Qui'in's OSD in the drive and as he promised the terminal recognized the device and the key program auto-executed. A hidden partition manifested on the list of storage drives right before her eyes, and then a second program kicked in, and the contents of the partition began to copy onto the OSD. Shepard would bet that Qui'in wrote both programs and put them on this OSD just for such an event. It idly made her wonder who he might have been during his military days. She would not buy him being just an infantry grunt. Not with his intellect.
She glanced at the unconscious guard, the last thing she needed now for him to be the sort of bastard who regained consciousness quickly, despite a blood choke. The computer said it would take another minute to finish copying, right now was the most dangerous moment in the whole operation. The ease with which she waltzed past the guards getting in, she could walk right out. The guard at her feet would not be a problem until he woke up. But by then she should have the information to Qui'in, a pass in hand, and he would be in too much trouble to matter.
There was a scratch from below her and Shepard froze. "Hodder, status report." A female voice cracked over a radio.
Shepard recognized it, the same blond woman. She would know that authoritarian bark anywhere. And just like that her little fantasy of a clean get-away crashed and burned.
"Hodder, you there?" the voice asked again.
The status on the screen hit eighty-five percent.
"Hodder is not responding. Someone go and check. Now!" The voice demanded.
Ninety percent, Shepard had her hands on the keyboard already. The copy process finished and she closed the windows and input the commands to eject the device. As soon as the screen flashed, she yanked the OSD out and stuck it into her pocket. Another quick set of taps ensured the partition vanished from view and set the terminal into standby.
It was then that she heard hurried footsteps outside, despite the carpet. Shepard slid out of the seat and stepped over the unconscious Hodder to the corner of the room where the sunlight from the windows did not quite reach. A woman stepped into the room and instantly saw the unconscious guard. She ran over to him, kneeled, and probed at his neck. Her hand went to the radio at her hip a moment later. "Captain Stirling, Hodder's out cold."
"Out cold?" The female voice repeated.
"I don't think he fell asleep, ma'am."
"No. He's not that big an idiot. Stirling to all hands, lock the place down, we have an intruder. They have a cloak." The voice said.
"Could it be the Spectres?" the woman in the office wondered.
"No. I saw both peacocks in the lobby fifteen minutes ago. It's the Alliance dog. Thomas saw Qui'in talking to her." Stirling replied. "Moira, you and Gillian, search the second floor, she's probably still up there. I have the first. That bitch won't get past us."
"Yes, Captain."
Shepard heard enough. Apparently one of the ERCS guards at the lounge was on the take and there to keep an eye on Qui'in. Now she knew she had to knock all of these assholes out before she could leave. If she slipped out, they would realize she did, and there would be alarms. She could not afford that. She needed to buy herself time to make the exchange and find Nihlus and Saren.
Moira got to her feet and tucked her radio to her hip. Shepard moved, rounded the table from the other side. The woman moved toward the door, but before she could reach it, Shepard was on her. An arm wrapped around her neck and another at her mouth, Moira thrashed against her practiced blood choke, but as with Hodder, she was out cold in a manner of seconds and Shepard eased her to the floor. Now she needed to turn the tables, her cloak had an obvious flaw and they had numbers and weapons.
She slipped out of the office scanned the loft. Moira was the woman who had been working on the second floor, which meant there was only one guard left up here. He had vacated his seat and drawn his rifle, but otherwise he looked about as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Still, she would not dare to close in on him like this. If he saw so much as a flicker of her cloak, he would fire, and with the cloak engaged she had no shields to give her protection.
She inched her way toward the electrical room, watching the man as she did. He was staring into random bits of nothing for seconds at a time, probably hoping to see something. Shepard only waited for him to turn around before she slowly opened the electrical closet and slipped inside. The infrared motion detector detected her despite the cloak and the overhead light went on, so she shut the door to conceal herself. Once there, she turned to the panel on the back of the tiny coffin-sized space.
Tripping the main circuit-breaker would plunge the offices into darkness, which would cover her cloak's flaw, but before that she had to do something about the windows. She opened the maintenance terminal and brought up environmental controls. Port Hanshan was an interesting place, most places built in these sorts of hazardous environment had safety equipment for inclement weather, and she was not disappointed. Port Hanshan's windows had external debris shutters that could cover the transparent paneling. She only had to fool the system into thinking the storm outside was nastier than it was, which going by the readings the system reported, was already plenty nasty. Temperature outside was a brutal minus sixty and the winds gusted at eighty kilometers an hour.
Shepard brought up her omni-tool, typed a few commands, and then moved to the console in front of her. An override to disconnect the office from central control and a few strings of code on her omni-tool later and she managed to change the wind readings to a hundred kilometers. A moment later the console flashed a red banner, 'dangerous wind gusts detected' and then 'emergency shutter closure initialized.' Shepard smiled. The electrical panel began to hum. She switched over to the circuit-breaker control and gently opened the door behind her just wide enough to peek out.
The shutters on the outside the huge widows had engaged, slowly sliding across the windows. There was no way for the ERCS guards to know that she had tampered with them locally. That blizzard looked nasty enough that it was conceivable that a signal to close them had come from central control.
The shutters closed with a faintly audible thud and the humming in the panel died. She turned back to the console and input a few more commands to override the circuit-breaker controls. With the office isolated from Port Hanshan's master environment controls she finally slid her finger over the master switch. The electrical panel went silent and the closet was plunged into darkness as the terminal powered down. Shepard slipped out and closed the door, the darkness around her was near absolute, the shutters had small slits which still let in a trickle of light, but it was perhaps one percent of the previous illumination. She was officially in her element and could do as she pleased.
"What the hell is going on?" Someone asked from below.
Shepard saw weapon flashlights come on as the guards turned to their only lighting source, exposing themselves in the process.
"Check the electrical box… and where is Moira?" Stirling called.
Shepard noted the tension in the woman's voice, she was nervous. She ought to be, because if Shepard had her way, the whole lot of them would be caught sleeping on the dirty job. Tipping off Ms. Matsuo would do splendidly. First though, she needed them knocked out.
The guard on the upper floor moved toward the electrical closet, Shepard dodged behind a large planter box full of ferns and waited for him to come closer.
"Captain, I think Moira's down too; she was in the office. So…"
"Gillian, let me put this simply… that Spectre wonnabe is up there with you. The next words I want to hear from you are 'I have her, ma'am' or nothing at all, understood?" Stirling hissed.
Shepard would have laughed, Stirling had the leadership qualities of a rabid dog, and she had called her a bitch.
"Yes, Captain," Gillian replied. He moved like a man bound for the gallows, sweeping every corner and every nook, but his flashlight was just not enough to pierce the darkness. Shepard could easily tuck herself just out of sight; prevent the beam from hitting her cloak. He had no hope of spotting her.
He stopped at the door to the electrical closet and Shepard shifted. When his rifle lowered so he could open the door, Shepard was already out of cover. In one instant she snapped her arm around his neck, covered his mouth, and applied pressure. Gillian jerked, trying to shout his alarm, his rifle fell to the floor at his feet, but the carpet muffled the sound. In five seconds he was beginning to relax, in ten he went limp in her arms. Shepard lowered him to the floor and turned off his weapon's flashlight.
Three down, three to go. She was going to enjoy making Stirling look bad. The guards would wake up to realize just how easily she brought them down, and how much easier she could have killed them. When they were done getting over being fired, it would hopefully humble them into realizing that there were people out there who ought not to be bothered. If they insisted on comparing her to a dog, they ought to at least deign to call her what she was, a black dog, a portent of death.
Shepard inched her way to the stairs. The three ERCS workers downstairs were combing every corner and every nook, sweeping everything with their flashlights. She descended the stairs gingerly, careful to minimize footsteps, and once down, she slipped behind them as she watched one of the men move toward the back of the office floor, where the shadows were absolutely deepest. He stepped behind a wall section that supported the loft above and Shepard pounced and put him in a blood choke. The man managed a rather loud yelp, even with his mouth covered.
"She's back there!" the other man shouted.
Shepard heard footsteps, but the guard in her arms was already relaxing. She brought her knee up sharply, dislodging the rifle from his slackening grip. The weapon dropped and she kicked it aside, sending it skittering across the carpet. As the guard relaxed and Shepard eased him to the floor, the other man circled the wall and focused instantly on the light of the weapon, and like a lemming made his way toward it. When he turned his back, Shepard pounced on him as well.
"Troy, Lee, what's going on?" Stirling shouted.
The guard in her arms tried to shout but Shepard pinched his nose shut with her fingers for good measure. He thrashed even more violently, clawing at her armor and exoframe. On her count of five he begun to relax, and by ten he was out cold and on the floor. Shepard straightened and adjusted the armor plating on her forearm; he actually found and yanked one of her forearm plate attachment points.
"Shepard!" Stirling shouted. "I know it's you. Anoleis would throw you off world for what you did here. I won't. You know what we did to cop killers where I'm from?"
Shepard paused, she doubted Stirling cared one bit for her men, she was just angry that she was in the dark and at the mercy of a trained killer she could not defeat. Shepard having not killed even one of these dirty rent-a-cops aside, the fact that Stirling thought she had the moral high ground was just precious.
She inched around the wall toward the front of the room where the voice was coming from, aware that Stirling might be planning her own little ambush. What she saw chased the idea of an ambush out of the window, Stirling stood smack in the open; her pistol in her hand, her whole body glowed with a periwinkle aura. She was a bloody beacon in the dark, exposing herself, but Shepard knew full well that a choke was now out. She would never get the ten solid seconds on Stirling without being thrown, warped, reaved, or something else equally unpleasant.
"I am going to drag you right in front of those peacocks that keep you. I want to see the look on their faces." Stirling went on.
Shepard circled the woman to be at her back, where she would have no hope of seeing her cloak flicker.
"You are probably trying to sneak up on me, it will not work." Stirling added.
Shepard wanted to laugh, so much posturing for someone so clearly out of her element. The fear was there in her voice, making her sound pathetic even as she barked threats. Shepard moved closer, careful to keep an eye on the woman's movement. Well there was the old school way of handling biotics, and she doubted Stirling had a barrier as dense as D'Aros' had been.
"Where are you?!" Stirling demanded.
Shepard chuckled, "Right behind you."
Stirling whirled; and Shepard swung. Her right fist connected with Stirling's jaw with a resounding crack. The glow of her biotics died instantly as the woman staggered and fell backwards on her butt before sprawling out on the floor. Shepard kicked Stirling's gun out of her reach and grabbed her by the front of her armor, but her HUD showed that the precaution was unnecessary. Stirling had hit her head on the floor, the carpet prevented a serious injury, but her heart rate and breathing had both slowed down; she was out cold with one good punch. Shepard well and truly loved her exoframe.
Shepard straightened and rubbed the knuckles of her right hand. The return still hurt, but not as much as the time she punched D'Aros, and it would go away in a little bit. If her knuckle remained a little tender, no problem, she could deal with that.
It amused her how some people just stopped thinking as soon as they were even a little bit afraid. Stirling had been afraid; it was there in her fraying tone. The fact that the woman was a biotic meant little. The Alliance operated the human biotic training programs, but going through one did not make the soldier automatically good. Stirling probably had some military training, but it clearly did not internalize. The woman became complacent, too used to the handling spineless white collar criminals. Too used to working for said criminals. It was almost too easy to bring her down, and would have been even easier to kill her. If Shepard had meant to kill, she would have given Stirling a Muay Thai shin-kick to the side of her throat, bruising her windpipe to the point of swelling shut, if not outright crushing it. A nasty headache and a bruise the size of the moon on her chin ought to be a lesson enough though.
Shepard stood there and listened. In the silence that settled over the office, she would hear any little bit of movement from someone stumbling about. There was no sound at all; the guards were still out like the lights. With the situation contained, Shepard moved toward the elevator and finally allowed herself to turn off her cloak. She had kept it on for too long; the emitters were running more than ten degrees too hot if her suit's HUD was to be believed. She could not feel the excess heat due to the ceramic plating of her armor, but her shields would not kick in until the emitters cooled down, and she would probably need to reset them.
The elevator ride was slow, the adrenaline in her system made it feel slower. She patted her pockets one more time, just to confirm the presence of two OSDs. She thought all-in-all that was a good job done. If there was blood on those carpets, it was just a little bit from Stirling's busted lip. At the bottom Shepard breezed out of the cabin and now that she could see, she checked over her armguards. Both were fastened properly and sealed, no harm done. When she looked up again, she saw Parasini standing by the lobby entrance.
"Commander," the woman greeted.
Shepard stopped, and spared her a look, but said nothing.
"This section of Port Hanshan is largely out of bounds to visitors. Central control reported a localized closure of the debris shutters and a power outage in the closed Synthetic Insights office. Now here you are."
"So things are moving on their own and the lights went out? Sounds like a poltergeist haunting." Shepard replied blandly.
Parasini's lips quirked into a small smile, but it hardly reached her eyes. "A smartass, huh? That's fine. I can work with that. Meet me at the hotel lounge for a drink, before you talk to Qui'in. I'll be waiting." Parasini turned and walked away, leaving Shepard to wonder what she was up to.
Just what sort of endgame Parasini had in all of this? She directed Shepard to Qui'in, and now here she was again. Shepard hummed thoughtfully as she pondered the possibilities. It occurred to her that if Central Control had reported the anomalies to the administrator's office, and if Anoleis had seen Synthetic Insights as the source, he would have sent in more of his hired goons. But no, Parasini arrived alone and unarmed. The lack of goons meant that Anoleis had no idea his illegal search-and-seize operation was busted. Parasini's timing in sending her to Qui'in was curious as well. The woman definitely had her own design in all of this. Was she on the take and playing her? It could very well be that Parasini knew those hired goons would not find the data, and wanted Qui'in to trust the wrong person. Meeting at the bar, when Shepard already knew there was someone on the take there sent her danger senses tingling.
Shepard shook her head and exited the office tower lobby. A tap at the side of her helmet showed the time, and Shepard blinked, surprised. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes. She was officially late to meet up with Nihlus and Saren, and she had no pass to flash, just a deeper curiosity, and possibly a situation. Her eyes roved over her environment. Seeing no hint of the Spectres anywhere, she turned toward the hotel instead. There was nothing to it, she had to go there, and hope that things would not come down to a fire-fight around civilians.
She patted the pocket containing the evidence again, to check that it was still there. It was a stupid thing, to be checking for it right now, but she did not need something going wrong at this point. Halfway to the hotel she flicked her wrist, and brought up her omni-tool to check for messages. One would think with her being fifteen minutes late Nihlus would sent her a message demanding to know where she was, but there was nothing. That was a little disconcerting, but maybe also encouraging. Maybe they had gotten into something on their own and lost track of time as much as she had. She was not going to message Nihlus, not without a pass in-hand and something to say.
Suddenly a hand landed on her shoulder and Shepard felt herself yanked into a small alcove that contained public extranet terminals. She grabbed at the hand on her shoulder, wrapped her fingers around a single digit, and turned, only to come face to face with Nihlus. Shepard recoiled, let go, and stepped back. She only had to twist a little more to break his finger given how wired she was right then.
"You are nervous, Shepard?" His mandibles flicked in amusement.
"A human that can feel guilt, what a surprise." A second voice drawled. "Do tell, human, what part of 'do not do anything without our authorization' did you not understand?" Saren demanded from his position by the wall, his withering look was back and worse than ever.
Well there goes that, Shepard thought to herself. She was officially out of the frying pan and in the fire.
Author Notes: Yep! Saren makes a more-than-cameo appearance! Shepard is scheming, and Nihlus is amused by it all. This episode was both very fun to write, and very challenging. All I will say is that the interplay of personalities between Saren and my version of Shepard was a lot of fun to figure out. They're so damn alike, and yet still opposites! My version of Shepard does paragon things for renegade reasons, and often quite selfish ones, and she's not repenting any time soon.
General Notes:
None this time…
Chapter Notes:
Tidal Lock – A body that is tidally locked to another has a rate of rotation that matches its orbital period around the host body, and thus only shows the same side to the parent body. Our Moon is tidally locked. Its rotation period is about 27 days, but so is its orbital period around the Earth, so we only see one side of it.