Mordin turned around to find one of the most curious assortments of beings he had seen in his long (short) life.

Three, all human, the oldest heavily scarred and just over middle age. In the lead was Commander Jane Shepard, Butcher of Torfan, Savior of the Citadel, flanked by the older human, a male, with scars around his eye. In military-grade armor, both bearing the symbol of Cerberus. Cerberus on Omega not entirely out of question, Commander Shepard in Cerberus armor on Omega, however, certainly so. Commander Shepard and the older human armed with standard Alliance implements, again inside the question, the third human, however, was again out of it. The third human wore some sort of pullover sweater and athletic pants, as well as a gas mask polarized as to conceal their face; weapons most curious of all, as the third human was holding what appeared to be a double-barrel shotgun. Apparent human design, old human design. Weathering suggests intensive use, barrel sawn off to presumably make weapon less cumbersome. Older human male eyeing the third human with distaste, Shepard eyeing older human male with distaste. Best descriptor of group: motley.

"Commander Shepard," Mordin said, "Finding you here curious. Concern with plague uncertain. Has been known to conduct smaller missions in the past." Mordin turned back around and approached his desk. "Affiliation with Cerberus unclear. Turncoat against Alliance? Cerberus interest in plague also unclear. Pursuing weaponization against non-humans? Known to be xenophobic and use terror tactics. Hmm. Odd, very odd." Mordin picked up the carnife handgun and cocked it, before turning back around to the group. "Most curious of all: Commander Shepard currently known to galaxy as deceased. Care to explain?"

"Can I smack him?" the older human asked.

"Zaeed," Shepard said tiredly. Then, to Mordin, "and I can't explain that. Not right now, anyways."

"Of course," Mordin said. "Logical response. Still, harbor suspicions. Repeating query: Care to explain?"

"If you're thinking of using that gun, don't." The older human grunted.

Mordin surveyed the man, and then the other presumable mercenary as well. He couldn't make out their face through the gas mask, but he could see the human shift some.

"Uncomfortable?" he asked. "Unfamiliar with Salarians, perhaps? Working with Cerberus could suggest an upbringing sheltered from aliens, perhaps sheltered upbringing could explain possible bigotry. No Cerberus branding on his clothes, however. Weapons antique. curious, very curious." Mordin hummed, then looked back to Shepard.

"I can't tell you everything," Shepard said. "Not right now."

"With Cerberus, plague affects aliens, supposedly dead spectre shows up on Omega unnanounced. Forgive me, Commander, but I cannot offer you anything you or Cerberus likely want. Busy with cure." Mordin glanced to the ceiling as there was a long, metallic groaning sound and then several dull thuds. "Just got busier."

"I'll help you," Shepard said, "I have an offer for you, Dr. Solus, but it's obvious that these people need help."

"Use of people, not separating humans from aliens." Mordin observed. "Previously employed by Alliance, Citadel Council. Apparently working for Cerberus yet offering to help aliens. Undercover assignment?"

"Not exactly," Shepard said. "I can explain later. That sounds like something bad just turned off."

Mordin hummed. "Indeed. Air flow shut down. Bad, very bad. Need help, don't have enough forces to turn back on without leaving clinic vulnerbale." Mordin went back over to his desk and retrieved a medical case. "Inside is cure for plague. Needs to be distributed throughout quarantine zone. Need airflow to do that. Take cure to fans, put in cure, turn air flow back on, save patients. Once done, will hear you out." Mordin held out the medical case. "Deal?"

Shepard nodded and took it.

"Oh, one more thing," Mordin handed Shepard the carnifex. "Was going to use it but needed here. Gesture of good faith." Shepard took it as well, but before letting it go, Mordin said, "May no need to be said, but will say anyway. Have plenty of forces here, Commander. Suggest don't betray me."

Shepard nodded. The third human snorted.

Mordin turned to them. "Amused?"

"Kinda," the human said. "Respectful, mostly. You've got the right idea about things."

Mordin hummed, then turned back to his work.

Mordin spent the rest of the day, after agreeing to Shepard's deal, taking stock of all the equipment at his disposal. He had already given his thanks to Shepard, and didn't expect anyone else before sleeping, when the door to his lab slid open. Mordin didn't look up.

"Hey," they said. "How's it hangin'?"

Mordin glanced up to find the third human across from him. Jack, he said his name was.

"Jack. Met today. Not Cerberus. Approved of threats." Mordin said. "Commander visited earlier. Said she trusted me more because unaffiliated with Cerberus. Understand sentiment: share it with commander. Presume you're here for same reasons?"

Jack wasn't wearing his gas mask anymore, and without it on...

"Heterochromia. Intriguing. Inherited from parents? Involvement with Cerberus still unclear. Cerberus experiment? Numerous scars as well. Would explain cynicism. Would explain distrust. Young human, though, and old Salarian. Again, logical conclusion: here because don't trust Cerberus. Want ally on ship?"

Jack blinked, then huffed. "You've got me, man."

"Doctor," Mordin corrected. "Short life, earned title over almost ten years. Important accomplishment. Ought to be respected." Mordin studied Jack. "Don't trust other crewmates, correct? Therefore stranger is in own way more trustworthy."

Jack nodded slowly. "Yeah. Everybody here is so... creepy. I don't like the smell of it."

"Employment of somewhat crude metaphor. Hmm. Harsh upbringing? Would explain scars."

Jack pointed to one of the scars on his chin and smiled wryly. "Actually, I got that one falling down some stairs."

"Joke. Deflection to preserve emotional state?" Mordin asked.

Jack shifted. "You, uh, okay. This is getting weird."

"Don't trust Cerberus either," Mordin said. "Extensive history of xenophobic violence. Terrorist group. Interest in Collectors only because are harming humans. Unconcerned with aliens like self. Hmm. Wonder why you are working for them?"

"I didn't really have a choice," Jack shrugged. "They held me captive for almost a month."

"Captive?" Mordin asked. "Intriguing. Related to heterochromia?"

Jack shifted again. "Kinda."

"See. Sensititive subject, didn't mean to pry. Just curious. Almost whole ship is professionals; soldiers, engineers, most with military background in Alliance. But not you. Casual clothes, antique weapons, crude implements in combat. Again, very curious."

"I find the old ways work just fine," Jack said. "There aren't many problems that can't be solved with buckshot. In, um, my experience."

"Harsh upbringing?" Mordin asked.

Jack's eyes dulled some, then he said, "Yeah."

"Understand. Again, didn't mean to pry. Merely interested. Also have some experience with 'rough' life, offer condolences for past difficulties."

"Thanks," Jack said. "The Commander wouldn't tell me much about you. How do you, uh, understand what I've been through?"

"Former special tasks group. Can easily be called 'rough' by many."

"Special tasks?" Jack asked.

"Yes. Branch of Salarian military, highly classified-"

"I know what the special tasks group is," Jack interrupted. "I may have been... sheltered, I guess, but I've done my research."

Mordin studied him again. "Intriguing person. Many contradictions. Shepard warned me you lie often."

Jack laughed. "Yeah. But I'm not lying when I say my dad would have liked you."

"Father? Doctor as well?" Mordin asked.

Jack nodded. "Just a regular doctor, but yeah."

"May ask for more detail?" Mordin asked.

"Those people on Omega," Jack said. "He would have respected that."

"Sounds like a decent sort," Mordin said. Jack glanced away, then back to Mordin.

"He was," Jack said.

"Ah. My condolences."

Jack shrugged. "Thanks. You... I think you're a kind person, doctor, unlike most of the people on this ship."

For once, Mordin was quiet. But only for a moment, then he said, "Thank you. You know... performed Gilbert and Sullivan once."

Jack blinked. "Huh?"

"Human artists. 20th century. Wonderful music."

"I know who Gilbert and Sullivan were," Jack said. "My dad would've really liked you."

"Will take that as a compliment," Mordin said.

"It was meant as one," Jack said. "You up for a midnight snack?"

Mordin peered at him, then glanced at the time. "Oh. Very late. Unfamiliar with protocol, however. Not friends."

"We're coworkers," Jack shrugged. "And some of the only non-cerberus people on the ship. That's good enough for me."

Mordin studied him for a third time. Long and hard, then said, "Alright. But not too much. Need my beauty sleep."

Jack laughed. He held out his hand. "Jack Armstrong."

Mordin shook it.

"I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Jack said wryly.

"I am unfamiliar," Mordin said.

"Another time," Jack said. "Another time."