18: The Hacker
The motel on the outskirts of New Thebes was typically cheap and dirty, a drab brick tenement that had evidently been built in a hurry. The rooms were small, the paint was peeling and the floors were dirty, with dust having gathered on just about every surface whilst the bedsheets were marred with stains Lyssa did not wish to ponder. The room she had rented, using Sevarn's credit chit, was on the fourth floor. The windows up here offered a very unremarkable view of the alleyway below, and the similar drab brick building across the way. The fluorescent lights in here provided a stark, white illumination that only managed to amplify the dirtiness of the room at large.
There was one large space, with a door leading into a small, dingy bathroom within which the one and only mirror was cracked in multiple places. There was one double bed, a pair of worn-out armchairs and a vidscreen at the far wall, with a small kitchen area taking up one corner. The place smelled damp, and the closer she drew to the bedsheets the more she detected other, more unpleasant smells. Nonetheless, poverty on Anhur was common and a place like this was typical for the planet. Some folks would have to spend their lives living in an apartment like this, for it would be all they could afford given the current state of Anhur's economy. Naturally, crime was rampant and every so often, Lyssa thought she could hear gunshots sounding from some distant corner of the neighbourhood.
Sevarn had gone out to get some fresh bedsheets and clothes. This had offered Lyssa a chance to have a shower, as well as wash her Cerberus uniform. She took the time to remove the insignia from it, before she left the discarded clothing to dry on a simple rack erected before the room's solitary climate control unit. It was a cold night outside, and as she sat in one of the chairs with little more than a towel covering her, she did feel a slight chill. She switched the screen on, finding it tuned in to one of the local broadcasters. After a few commercials, she found herself watching a news report. Normally, she gave the press little of her attention because of the lies she found they peddled, not to mention the overtly manipulative nature of such broadcasts. However, what she saw now caught her attention, and she found herself watching on with keen interest.
'The crowd gathering outside the gates of the Administrative Complex continues to grow.' The reporter, a thirty-something woman dressed in a fashionable red jacket and thick blue pants that were well-suited to ward off the cold air, stood at the side of a road somewhere within the inner-city area of New Thebes. Behind her was a wire fence, one adorned with rolls of barbed wire, with a gate visible in the shot that was manned by several armed guards. There was a sizeable crowd behind the reporter, many of whom had their attention directed towards the gate. Some were waving placards, yet Lyssa could not see what was written upon them from this distance.
'As it grows, so does the unrest. Already, a group of batarian counter-protestors has arrived, but for now the police have the two crowds separated and corralled. However, tensions here are high, and as more people arrive in response to these unconfirmed reports, the likelihood that the police can maintain control only decreases. The threat of a riot is very real, yet the Governor himself has not attempted to confirm nor deny these reports. Many believe that even if he were to deny these claims, the likelihood that these people will disperse is slim at best. Trust within the Anhur government has been at its lowest point since the Rebellions, and this latest fiasco is likely to make it plummet further.'
Lyssa frowned, trying to see if she could determine just what the cause of the protest was. She was curious, to put it simply. Given all that had happened to her in the past few days she had a feeling that a large protest springing up in the middle of New Thebes was no coincidence.
'Many here are convinced of the reports that Salak Vok, notorious batarian war criminal who led one of the more extreme paramilitary groups during the Anhur Rebellions, has been captured and is being kept somewhere within the Administrative Complex. Reliable sources maintain that Vok is in fact within the Governor's residence itself, and so far these claims have spread to all major local networks. Many of those gathered here are enraged that the colony's Governor could very well be sheltering a war criminal, and there are some protestors here who have since told us that they had friends and family who died at the hands of Vok's paramilitary during the war.'
Lyssa stood up then, as soon as she heard mention of the batarian's name. Is that where the bastard had gone, into the Administrative Complex? Just who had raided that camp if Vok was now hanging out with the Governor?
'Information was passed to us from reliable sources concerning a secret raid conducted against an insurgent camp far north of New Thebes,' the reporter continued. Some of the protestors behind her were now waving at the camera, and a few placards became visible. Statements such as 'BRING OUT VOK' or 'STRING UP THE BUTCHER' fell into view of the camera.
'Vok was apprehended, but local authorities stepped in and brought him here. Why, we cannot determine. Some suggest there are ties between Vok and the current Governor, but again this is mere rumour. The sources providing the initial claims are reliable, but per protocol we cannot reveal who they are to the public…'
'Son of a bitch.' Lyssa moved for her uniform, mostly dry on the rack before the heater. She threw off the towel and promptly got dressed, suddenly unwilling to stay here in this fleapit for the night. As she began doing up her uniform's top, there sounded a knock at the door. Her gun was within reach, and she plucked it from the nearby table. She moved for the door, ready to unlock it, only for it to swing open on its own.
Sevarn poked his head in, his brow plates narrowing as he sighted the pistol being trained his way.
'Relax, Raine. It's me.' He pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside, with several folded bedsheets under one arm. Under his other arm, he had some folded up clothes, mostly drab looking ones at that. He threw the bundles onto the bed, and Lyssa stepped over to take a better look.
'We're not staying here,' she told him, and Sevarn frowned.
'Why not?' This latest suggestion had caught him off-guard. He closed the door behind him, before he watched Lyssa with a curious look in his eyes.
'Because Vok is in the Governor's residence,' Lyssa said. 'Or so it seems. It's worth checking out.'
'Checking out the Governor's residence?' Sevarn's frown only deepened. 'That has to be the most secure place on this planet. You can't just walk in.' He scratched at one mandible, giving the whole thing a little more thought. 'Besides, how can you be sure he's even there?'
'I'm not, but I sure as shit ain't going to stay here on the chance he is there. I want that bastard at my mercy, and I want to squeeze him for everything he knows.'
Sevarn remained dubious. There was something oddly endearing about the look of a confused, doubting turian. The more predatory elements of their features seemed to fall away, and in Sevarn's case his cool blue eyes adopted the kind of look Lyssa might expect to find on a lost puppy.
'We're leaving, then?'
'At the very least, we'll find a place closer to the Governor's residence. You've got money, don't you?' She quirked one sceptical brow at the turian. 'Seriously, all that Hierarchy money and this is the best place you can find?'
'It's not my money,' Sevarn said.
'It's the people's money, yeah, you told me.' Lyssa shook her head. 'Seriously, we're going to be using that money to hunt down an enemy of the people. Be they human or turian, Salak Vok is an enemy to everyone.'
Sevarn sighed, seemingly resigned to this latest suggested course of action.
'What did you have in mind?' He asked her. Lyssa smiled at him then, pleased that he was falling in line. There was nothing like bossing around a turian, if only because they were often so very keen on bossing everyone else around.
'Well, we get a room close to the Administrative Complex. We scope the place out. First thing we'll need to do after that is confirm that Vok is in that Complex. And then, if he is, we'll need to find a way in.'
'And how do you expect to do either of those things?' Sevarn folded his arms over his armoured chest, eyeing Lyssa with renewed doubt.
'I know a guy, best hacker on Anhur. I might have engaged his services on Cerberus' behalf more than once in the past.' Lyssa smirked at the thought, for where this individual was concerned Lyssa was not really his favourite person. 'Now, I know where we can find him. Thing is, he won't be too pleased to see me. You might have to help me get him on board, you know?'
'A hacker?' Sevarn's features seemed all the more expressive now, if only because of his general disbelief at the whole proposed scheme. 'What kind of hacker are we talking about, here?'
'A criminal, a mercenary who sells his skills to anyone willing to pay enough. Your Hierarchy funds might come in handy there.'
'Of course they will.' His sarcasm was blatant.
'Like I said, he might not be pleased to see me.' Lyssa shrugged her shoulders. Sevarn knew the gesture, and this time it brought on another curious look from him.
'And why would that be?'
'Well, you could say he's my ex.'
Dawn came upon a New Thebes beset by renewed tensions. The crowd that had formed around the walls of the Administrative Complex had grown overnight, and now thousands filled the streets. Many were human, there to pressure the Governor and his cronies into giving up Salak Vok. Rumours abounded that the batarian had been sighted on the grounds of the Governor's residence, but no one could properly confirm these claims. There were counter-protestors in the mix, batarians mainly, those who were there out of support for the perceived war criminal who, to their people, was a war hero. The honking of car horns and the cries of disgruntled citizens could be heard from blocks away, and what was supposed to have been a regular workday in the city had turned into anything but. Traffic had come to a standstill towards the city centre, and many human citizens within the city had simply decided not to go into work today.
All this was little more than background noise to the blue-grey toned drell who lurked about the ground floor of the apartment complex he called home. There was a shop down here, a pawnbroker of sorts, run by a portly forty-something human man who also owned the building as a whole. As such, the drell was not an unusual sight around here, even if he was one of the few of his kind living on this backwater planet.
Like most of his species, he was tall and slim, his smooth skin carrying with it a deep blue, slightly muted grey tone. What stood out immediately were perhaps his large dark eyes, before one's gaze would be drawn to those other traits common to his kind: deep red frilly skin at his neck, a pattern of dark lines that served to segment part of his head and continued down his chest, with even more striped patterns that marked his torso and would be visible if it were not for the burgundy jacket he wore, which in turn was accompanied by a set of black pants. Civilian wear that was human made, but he had paid for it to be properly tailored to his lither frame. Despite his slim build, a drell male's body was covered in wiry, dense muscle that offered an edge in any brawl. This particular drell would have been in his mid-twenties, still a young man for his kind aged at a similar rate to humans.
He had a mail locker down here, as did the other tenants. As was to be expected in the morning, the building's owner was at his usual table nearby, whilst his slightly younger yet still very chubby brother was over at the counter in the corner. And then there was another portly human man of about forty, a nephew of the owner or so the drell had been told. All three certainly held resemblances to one another, and all three had little in the way of hair, with the older of the trio wearing a set of spectacles. The trio wore a mix of simple T-shirts and jeans, and as the drell proceeded to his locker he could hear that they were once again engaged in a heated discussion.
'So, I'm sitting here,' the younger of the three said, and he motioned to the table in front of him to emphasis his point. 'And Mario, he's sitting across from me, right?' He then motioned to the younger brother. 'We've got a pizza, right between us.'
'Yeah, go on…' The older of the three and owner of the building, Antonio, looked up from his data pad, apparently intrigued. None of the three paid much attention to the drell as he sauntered by, pausing by the row of lockers at the wall.
'It's a large pizza, eight slices between the two of us. So, picture it in front of you, all right?' He pointed at the table before him, and the old man looked down as if expecting to see the pizza right there in front of him. 'I eat from this corner, at my side. Then he takes one from his, right?'
'Right.' Antonio nodded his head in understanding.
'I ate the next one on my side, and then he skipped the one on his side.'
Immediately, the third member of the discussion piped in. The drell was only vaguely listening, his large dark eyes set upon the locker's keypad. He had been expecting a package, and so had been pleased to see the notification on his omni-tool that it had finally arrived.
'Maybe I didn't want that one?' Mario suggested.
'Then he stands up and takes one from my side!' The other man sounded positively outraged. Antonio cocked his brow, eyes widening slightly.
'I didn't stand up!' Mario shouted.
'He reached across, and he took my slice!' The third man, the nephew, was sounding increasingly agitated.
'Look, Mario, you should have eaten the pizza on your end.' Antonio turned to the other man, and unlike the younger pair, his voice was level. The voice of reason, or so the drell surmised.
'And then, when he's done with his first slice, he reaches over and takes one from my side of the pizza.' From the way the man's voice began to increase in volume, it seemed that this apparent infringement of standard etiquette was unforgivable.
'I can take whatever slice I want!' Mario countered.
'No, you can't.' The nephew's voice was firm, as if this was some unwritten, sacred rule. 'You had what was on your side, I had what was on my side.'
'You're wrong, Mario.' Antonio shook his head slowly, seemingly disappointed in his younger brother.
'You took from my side,' Mario accused, pointing a finger at the nephew. Immediately, the nephew's mood soured further.
'Fuck off, no I didn't!'
'Yes, you did! So, I took a slice from your side.'
'Fuck off.'
'No, you fuck off.'
'You don't take a slice from the other man's half,' Antonio interjected, having to raise his voice a little to be heard over the pair's arguing.
'Stay the fuck on your side!' The nephew barked.
'You stay on yours!'
The nephew threw his empty coffee cup at the younger brother, who put up his arms and deflected it with ease.
The drell punched in his locker's code, and the small metal door flipped open to reveal a cardboard box within, about half a foot in width.
'It's bad pizza etiquette, that's what it is!' The nephew declared.
'Hey, hey, wait a second. We got someone else here.' Antonio swivelled about on his chair, turning his attention to the drell. 'Hey, frog boy.'
"Frog boy" was the term these three generally used to refer to the one drell tenant they had in the building. Given the reasonable rent and the comfortable living conditions, the drell had found himself tolerating the nickname, even if one may have considered it derogatory.
'What is it, Tony?' The drell tucked the package under his arm, before he closed the door and turned to face the chubby man. Drell seldom gained weight in the manner a human could, and part of him could not shake the small measure of amusement he often felt when he saw a human who was so clearly overweight.
'What do you think?' Now all three men were watching him expectantly. The drell quirked one brow ridge, unsure.
'Think of what?'
'Don't pretend you didn't hear us,' Antonio countered. 'Don't you frogs have like, a perfect memory or something?'
'I heard the discussion.'
'Yeah, and?'
'And what?'
'What do you think? Who was in the wrong here?'
The drell regarded Antonio with a small frown, before he cast his eyes over the other two men. All so much alike, all distinctly overweight and all looking to him for his opinion as if it were some kind of religious decree.
'I think arguing over a pizza that no longer exists is counterproductive.' The drell started on his way for the corridor entrance nearby, keen to head back up to his room. However, the three men immediately started talking after him:
'Oh, come on, that's an anti-climax,' Antonio stated.
'You ate the pizza, it's gone. You've likely digested it all by now.' The drell stopped and turned to face the three men once again. He did hear the main entrance doors slide open a short way behind him then, but he was too distracted to pay it much attention. However, the younger brother's eyes shot right over to the doors upon hearing the sound and they widened noticeably.
'Hey, hey, when was the last time someone that good looking walked in?'
The drell, who had been about to speak further, found this remark curious and so turned around to follow the human's gaze. When he cast his eyes upon the tall, athletically built blonde human woman now standing just inside the building's lobby, he felt his heart skip and not in a good way.
'Hey, Chas, how have you been?'
Memories came flooding back in a torrent, and the drell known as Chas Rofan had to pause for a few seconds in order to clamp down on them all. Lapsing into perfect memories was a trap a drell often had to work to prevent, and as the woman started to walk towards him with a smile on her face, he found himself rushing back to the present.
'Oh, no, no, not again, Lyssa.' He turned and started to hurry away from her, all while the three portly human men nearby looked on with a mix of smiles and mild confusion on their faces. Chas could hear the woman starting after him, and so he broke into a jog that sent him down the corridor proper. He had to get out of here before that woman sunk her claws into him again…
He rounded a corner, only to go barrelling into a turian. The turian hardly moved; rather, it was Chas who ended up falling over, his package slipping from his grasp and clunking to the floor. He landed on all fours, feeling a little sore. As he was about to push himself back upon his feet, he felt a powerful hand grab him by the back of his collar. The turian lifted him up with a startling ease, and Chas' dark eyes found themselves looking into the crystal blue ones of the turian.
'Lyssa, I've got him.' The turian kept his eyes fixed firmly upon the drell, and the look in them suggested he was hoping the drell might struggle. Chas did not see much point, not when it was obvious that Lyssa Raine had come here with a very clear purpose in mind and with help to boot. Not the usual kind of help he would expect for a Cerberus operative, but there was no denying that this armoured turian meant business.
Lyssa appeared from around the corner and Chas found himself turned around to face her, all while the turian kept his hands firmly clasped about the drell's arms. The corridor about them was quiet, the carpet soft underfoot, with some background noise provided by the overly loud chatter of the three men out in the lobby. It seemed they had moved on from breaches of pizza etiquette and were instead talking about the apparent connection between their drell tenant and the attractive woman who had sent him running.
'You know, Chas, running away gives all the wrong messages. I thought we had a good thing going, you and I?'
'A good thing?' Chas shook his head. He felt a little awkward, held by the turian. He swept his gaze over Lyssa, noticing the somewhat unremarkable civvies she wore, complete with a navy-blue jacket that appeared to have been purchased from a discount store. However, he sighted a black combat vest just underneath it, which suggested that although she was incognito, she was not taking any chances. There was likely a kinetic barrier active on her as well.
'Last time we had a "thing", Lyssa, I got shot in the backside and ended up in jail. They have me out on probation, but the thing is I can't actually leave Anhur. I'm stuck here, on this shithole. All because I trusted you.' Chas recalled it all with extreme vividity. He saw some fleeting guilt cross Lyssa's face, but it was quickly pushed aside by another of her wry smiles.
'I got you that probation, Chas. Did that ever occur to you?'
It had, but he was not going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it here.
'What happened was not supposed to happen. For what it's worth, I apologise.' Now her smile broadened. 'I reckon I left you with plenty of good memories to go with that one bad one, surely?'
Chas did not reply. She was right, of course; he had plenty of memories of their encounters, from when she had first approached him to secure his services for Cerberus, to the night they had spent together prior to the deal that had seen him wounded. That did not make the apparent betrayal sting all the less.
'You didn't seek me out to apologise, did you?' He asked her. Lyssa shook her head, and her features adopted something far more serious. 'What's happened?' He squirmed his way out of the turian's grip then, shooting him a mean glare.
'Well, to put it simply I've been set up and a whole lot of people are trying to kill me,' she stated. He had learned early on during his acquaintance with Lyssa that she had a knack when it came to boiling things down to their basics. 'My turian friend here is in a similar position I am. And the one man who might help us is Salak Vok.'
The drell's already large eyes widened a little more with surprise upon hearing this name. Lyssa's own features had soured, as if simply stating the batarian's name was enough to embitter her.
'You want my help in finding him?' Chas asked her.
'Not exactly. We already know where he is. In fact, most of Anhur's population does.' She frowned, and Chas realised that he was missing something critical here. 'You don't watch the news, do you?'
'Neither do you.'
'True, but this is the kind of news that's hard to miss.' She smiled at him again. Chas only offered her a scowl in return, unable to shake the feeling that her being here was only going to complicate his life again. Still, he could not refuse her, despite how much he wanted to. The presence of the turian served as discouragement enough to refuse her.
'Who's your new friend?' He asked her, nodding his head at the turian.
'That's Sevarn.' She looked to the turian and motioned to the drell in turn. 'And Sevarn, this is Chas Rofan. He's one of the best hackers in the Terminus Systems.'
'I'm the best in the Terminus Systems'
'Yeah, well, I wouldn't want to inflate your ego too much.' Lyssa gestured to the turian, a signal for him to step aside and allow the drell some freedom. 'Now, Chas, if you would be so kind as to take us to your room, I will explain to you everything we need done. And there may be a reward in it for you if we succeed.'
Somehow, Chas doubted this last part, at least in regard to financial reward. However, looking back at Lyssa, he figured she might offer some form of recompense in other means, given their past together. Then again, from the way he saw that turian watching her, mainly as she walked on ahead of him, he thought that maybe his chances there had plummeted.
'Are you going to be all right doing this?' That was Natasha, her voice laced with worry. Kanen, seated at the technician's desk as the technician in question fiddled with part of his environment suit, turned his head and regarded the woman with a smile. A smile, he realised, she could not actually see under his frosted face plate.
'I'll be fine,' Kanen replied. They were in one of the quieter side rooms of the SOTIG headquarters, a sort of computer room at that wherein walls of server towers and hard drives and display monitors took up most of the surrounding walls. The technician, a young dark-haired woman outfitted in an unmarked blue uniform, had been making minor adjustments to the systems within Kanen's suit. Specifically, the implementation of a sophisticated receiver and transmitter that most conventional scans would not be able to detect.
'Besides, the Governor's an old friend of mine,' Kanen added, even if he himself did not entirely believe this. He realised his doubt was clear in his voice, and he sensed Agent Booker take a step towards him from where he had been waiting nearby. There was something about this intelligence operative that uneased Kanen, presumably something to do with the sense that here was a man who was willing to do anything necessary to get the job done. If that meant throwing a quarian mercenary into a proverbial den of wolves, then so be it.
'You were his bodyguard for some time,' Booker said. Kanen locked gazes with Booker, whilst the technician closed shut the outer compartment of his chest armour she had removed in order to fit and calibrate the device. Now she turned to her computer screen, tapping away at the interface in order to get the device functioning and keyed into the greater SOTIG network.
'What happened that made you leave, exactly?'
'I didn't leave,' Kanen replied, and he saw Booker give him a tight, unconvincing smile. 'I was fired. He got cheaper mercs. Former Eclipse, mostly. And some of the Governor's friends did not appreciate having a quarian in the Administrative Complex.' Kanen sighed, as he mulled it all over. 'I must have saved that moron's life ten times over.'
'Are you confident that you can get in to see him?' Booker's false smile disappeared. 'Without starting trouble, that is?'
Kanen had to carefully mull this over, all while Booker watched him, the man's doubts only growing in turn. Finally, the quarian met the man's gaze again and gave him a nod.
'Look, I can get in to see him. He owes me a few favours, as do a few of the staffers there. Thing is, I say I was fired, but it was also a well-timed firing. I sort of picked up on certain shady backroom dealings that the Governor was engaged in, and I didn't like what I was seeing. He was dealing with some questionable characters, and he was allowing less savoury batarians more sway in his administration.'
'He would have to, after the Rebellions.' It was Natasha who said this, and Booker turned to look her way. 'Playing nice with the batarians is the only way to keep the peace around here.'
'You mean to say that the Governor is corrupt?' Booker was not at all surprised. 'That's the norm on Anhur. Especially where government officials are concerned.'
'He has to share power with an Administrative Council,' Kanen added, for further explanation. He figured Booker was familiar with the method in which Anhur was governed, but he continued nonetheless: 'And they're roughly an even split, batarian and human. It's just that the Governor was beginning to make moves towards more extremist factions. They must be making him some solid offers, but I don't see him selling out his fellow humans. He may be corrupt, but the man does have standards and there are lines even he won't cross.'
'So, can you get in to see him?' Booker was insistent. They would have only one chance to get this right, and if Kanen blew it for any reason than things could get messy. Sending a strike team into the Governor's residence hardly seemed like a good idea, and it would only serve to risk exposing SOTIG to the outside world. The only reason they could go on working like they did here was because of secrecy, and if the local authorities learned of the Alliance black op within their midst there would be serious repercussions throughout the sector. The Terminus Systems as a whole could be affected, and even the Citadel Council might get involved. Thinking about all of this, Kanen felt a whole new added pressure settle upon him then, on top of the typical dangers to be expected on an assignment such as this. He certainly did not want to be the reason a war started.
'I don't need to remind you the consequences of screwing this up could be disastrous?' Booker asked him. Apparently, the man had read his mind, or had a better gauge on the barely visible facial expressions Kanen was making under his mask.
'No, you don't. I know what might happen.' Kanen stood up then, flexing his arms, aware that his heartrate had increased just a little. 'I won't screw this up, Booker. I want to get to the bottom of all this just as much as you do.' He paused, aware that this did not sound entirely believable. 'I mean, at least that way you won't need to keep me locked up and I can get the bounty off of my head, right?'
Booker did not reply. He turned to the technician, and she gave him a nod.
'All set, sir.'
'Let's not waste any more time.' He motioned for Kanen to follow. 'We'll head out to the Complex. You'll go in alone, Kanen, while we keep watch from nearby. You will be monitored at all times.'
The pair, followed by Natasha, made their way into the drab grey corridor outside. This took them to the main operations centre, and as they started for the way to the exit, Booker's attention was suddenly diverted to that of a dark-haired woman walking from the other direction. Kanen had not seen her around here before, but he supposed he had not been here long enough to know the dozens of staff who worked here by sight.
'Rachel, I didn't expect you back in today.' Booker stopped, and the woman, whom Kanen took to be in her late thirties or early forties, paused. She looked a little uneasy, and Kanen got the impression that she was tired, the bags under her eyes deeper than what might be considered normal. Nonetheless, she had done her best to cover them with some makeup. Her hair looked a little tousled, her clothing a little unkempt and her demeanour was somewhat fidgety, as if getting stopped like this had put her on edge.
'I've got some tests to run,' the woman replied. She spoke quickly then, as if worried she had forgotten something. 'And I have to access some files that I can't do so from home.'
Booker nodded. He seemed to regard her with a more careful eye, but if anything struck him as strange about the woman he did not say. Instead, he put on a smile.
'Very well, Rachel.' He paused briefly, before he added: 'How's the daughter?'
'She's getting along well.' Rachel Shaw's voice sounded a little terse, but she appeared to compose herself, rubbing at her eyes and clearing her throat. 'What about yours?'
'Spoke to her the other day. Elysium's doing wonders for her.' Booker sounded genuinely glad. Kanen was simply surprised to hear that the no-nonsense intelligence operative was a family man.
'Look, we better get going. Go see Lena for the daily briefing.' Booker started onwards for the exit again, and Rachel gave Kanen a curious glance. The quarian offered her a smile, which again was likely not going to be visible to her, before he started after Booker. Natasha fell into step beside Booker, with Kanen only a few paces behind.
'Who's she?' Natasha asked him.
'One of our consultants. Rachel Shaw, xenobiologist, expert in alien physiology.' They paused before a set of thick, frosted glass doors. Here, Booker swiped a pass card through a keypad to the left of them. 'She's practically our backup doctor, if there's ever any emergencies.'
The doors opened, taking them down another corridor. This one led to the underground parking garage, an otherwise drab concrete expanse containing about a dozen well-maintained and very expensive cars, including a few armoured vehicles. After passing through another security checkpoint, Booker brought them towards a pair of black SUV-type vehicles, their paintwork having been polished to a shine. Four other men waited for them by the vehicles, three of whom were in the blue and unmarked armour of a SOTIG commando. The fourth was a tall thirty-something man in a black suit, his short hair slightly wavy, his complexion hinting at some distant Latin American ancestry.
'You see the satellite images we sent you?' Booker stopped before the assembled group, and the man in the suit nodded.
'We've picked out a rooftop not far from the Complex,' he stated. He then shifted his attention to the quarian and his human companion. 'This the guy?'
'That's right.' Booker turned to Kanen, motioning for the man in the suit. 'Kanen'Jaslek, this is Carlos Alvarez, the commander of our tactical operations division.'
Alvarez put out a hand to shake, something that caught Kanen a little off-guard. Not many people actually wanted to shake hands with a quarian, and so after a moment spent getting over his immediate surprise, he took the proffered hand within his own gauntleted one and shook it.
'We'll be keeping an eye on you the whole time, Kanen,' Alvarez said, as he released the quarian's hand. 'We've done this kind of thing a hundred times before. And from what I hear, you can handle yourself pretty well when things go wrong.'
'I try my best.' Kanen felt some small stirring of pride.
'And that's all we can hope for.' Alvarez turned again to Booker. 'The protests out there are getting worse, James. Kanen might have trouble getting close. Security about the Complex has been amped up and the CED are crawling all over the neighbourhood.'
'Kanen stands out, doesn't he?' Booker did not sound at all concerned by this. Alvarez nodded his head in the affirmative.
'You think we should be sending him into a place like that?'
'The fact that he stands out will work in our favour,' Booker countered. Kanen could see where the man was coming from, given his history with the Governor. If he was sighted outside the Complex, there was a solid likelihood security would pick him up. All the more so if they knew of the bounty on his head.
He looked over to Natasha then, and he sighted some distinct worry on her face. He took a step closer to her, brushing his hand against one of her own.
'Don't worry about me,' he told her, his voice low. While Booker and Alvarez continued to discuss the last-minute details of the operation, the pair of disparate lovers shared a quiet moment.
'I can't help it,' Natasha muttered. 'You realise just how dangerous this is, right?'
'Of course I do.' Kanen shrugged his shoulders. 'But I'll be fine. I've been in much more dangerous predicaments.'
Natasha looked him in the eyes then, one eyebrow cocked in a way that suggested significant doubt. Kanen could not help but feel some of that doubt rub off on him.
