A/N: Sorry for posting so late (again), but I suppose it's tradition by this point (one that I wish did not exist). Anyway, I had this idea to maybe flesh out Virox's character and his relationship with the rest of the Normandy crew with these short bits and pieces of conversation between him and the individual squadmates or crewmates. And maybe sprinkle some exposition and world-building in the middle. They are all canon to the story, although they will not take place in any particular order. I'd appreciate if you let me know what you think of this format and I hope you enjoy it.
MIRANDA LAWSON
It has been a few days since Shepard and Miranda managed to get Oriana to safety and relocate both her and her family to a place outside of their controlling father's reach. Miranda wouldn't normally ask for a favor with something as personal as that, but she was extremely grateful nonetheless that Shepard managed to find the time for a detour. Truth be told, she hadn't expected the Commander to actually do it, and the fact that she did began to slowly erode her own reservations about Shepard's commitment to the wider cause.
Privately Miranda was also slightly jealous. Unlike Shepard, who had an almost natural ability to win over almost anyone with her determination and charisma, she was more a commander than a leader, and her cold and ruthlessly rational approach to problems was pointed out on many occasions by those around her. Her relationships were equally dry and professional, maybe with the slight exception of Jacob and Shepard, but other than that no one ever came to visit her in her quarters, outside of individual members of the Cerberus crew reporting in person at her explicit request.
Which was why her surprise was understandable when, during the writing of a report for the Illusive Man, the bulkhead to her room opened and revealed someone who was both uninvited and most definitely unwelcome.
At the entrance stood Virox, his tail stiffened almost parallel to the ground, and his cybernetic hands were clasped behind his back in a disciplined manner. Miranda tried to figure out the expression on the carvin's 'face', but in spite of her best efforts she couldn't for the life of her make out the alien's present attitude.
"Virox." She said with a cordially professional tone. She could act nice if need be.
"Miranda." The carvin replied and spared a short glance at her computer, noticing that she was working. "If the timing is inopportune I can return later."
Consideration was something that Miranda hardly expected Virox to show her, especially after their fiery stand-off in the CIC, making this particular display all the more jarring and off-putting. Her instincts, refined and sharpened by years of experience as a Cerberus operative, cautioned her to be wary of a potential deception. Still, she decided to carefully test the waters.
"Depends on what you need." She answered, keeping her eyes firmly on the carvin.
"It is less a matter of necessity and more of desire." Virox clarified before walking well into the interior of her room, prompting the bulkhead to close behind him. "I have heard about what you did on Illium. And it seems I owe you this visit at the very least."
Now Miranda was completely stumped. Every interaction between her and the carvin was characterized by an outright hostility and even borderline hatred from both parties. There was damaged pride and ego on both sides, and so everything about Virox's behavior seemed to hint at a very obvious trap. He wasn't making an impression of someone so easily humbled.
"I see Shepard is playing peacemaker again." Miranda adorned her face with a fake smile. "Commendable, but not requested."
"Commander has more important things to deal with than the petty squabbles of her subordinates, and I'm not some spineless hatchling. My own obedience has its limits." Virox scoffed, and curiously his voice did not betray any doubt. He genuinely seemed to believe it, even though Miranda had long realized that this wasn't the case. "And however this conversation turns out, it won't change the fact that I still despise you."
"The feeling is very much mutual." She bit back.
The carvin stared her down, visibly studying her face. She knew of the keen attention to detail his species had and so made every effort to keep her expression unreadable. Her efforts must have born fruit because he soon broke eye contact and glanced at the wider room instead. This was something Miranda wasn't particularly worried about, since, being a perfectionist, she kept it nice and tidy at all times while storing all the more... sophisticated equipment provided by Cerberus well out of view.
"For someone so professional and devoted to the cause, it was surprising to learn that you have a sister. A cloned one at that." Virox continued in the meantime. "Someone so important to you that you would elect to put aside our mission to ensure she was safe."
At the mention of Oriana, especially given that she was just thinking about her, Miranda felt an annoying sting. She would have much preferred for this matter to be known only to a select few, but apparently word spread fast. Too fast for her liking, and it wasn't too surprising that the carvin, who in spite of his antisocial behavior was still an avid listener, would know about that.
"I told you back in the CIC, you don't know me, carvin." She answered, though a tiny drop of venom slipped through her cordial mask. "Also, if you came here to mock me for my actions, then I suggest you stop wasting both of our times."
"You did it, even though Cerberus has already made arrangements to move your sister. You couldn't have known there would be a confrontation." He said, as if completely disregarding her previous comment. "In hindsight it was the correct decision, true."
"Your point?" Miranda asked, now quite annoyed by the carvin's apparent jabs.
Virox once again looked directly at her, his large circular eyes seemingly piercing her entire body, but strangely there was no hostility. "I came to apologize."
Miranda blinked once, and then again. It took her a few seconds to make sure she heard the words correctly. Virox was... apologizing to her? She wasn't sure the carvin had uttered those words to anybody onboard the Normandy, not even to Shepard. This made her subconsciously go back to the idea that this conversation was indeed a set-up by Shepard, but she quickly rejected it. Virox was bad at hiding emotions and even worse at lying, that much was certain. So why?
"...I must concede, I did not expect that." Miranda truthfully said, still trying to find a way out of this strange perplexment she felt. "Though I'm curious what exactly you want to apologize for."
"When we first met, I took you for a faithful believer of the Cerberus cause. A highly competent believer, yes, but little more." Virox elaborated. "I could empathize with it, because I have both seen and been someone like that. And why I understood how you could be a threat to myself and my people."
Judging purely by the contents of his statements one could safely assume that there was a passive-aggressive venom seeping through the carvin's mouth as he uttered those words. But again nothing of the sort was present. Miranda even started to wonder whether this manner of speaking was simply natural for the carvins and it was simply the process of translation that made it sound so hostile, or if Virox managed to somehow learn to sugarcoat his jabs in an emotionless tone.
"But knowing that you have a sister - a tangible and physical entity to represent what you're fighting for... that is new and alien to me." He continued.
"Having a sister... is alien?" Miranda asked, understandably skeptical of his statement.
"For most people no. It's common for our women to lay at least three eggs over the course of their lives in a civic union. 'Marriage' is the word you humans use, I believe." Virox answered. "But I am a... 'Child of the Empire' as they would say now. Never had siblings. I was raised by the State in absence of family. Taught to be fanatically loyal. Never knew anything else."
Now this was interesting. Aside from some additional data for his dossier, Virox's words were a valuable glimpse into the inner workings of the Carvin Empire. The Illusive Man would certainly want to know about this in case the carvins ever came into conflict with Cerberus or the wider humanity, and so Miranda made a mental note to pass this information to him at the earliest possible convenience.
"You were... 'made' by your father for the purpose of his own ambitions. And you rejected that fate to forge your own." Virox continued in the same tone, although there was a hint of something else hidden underneath. "You found strength to escape your past. I did not. Figured you deserved respect and an apology, even if just for that."
His past. Carvin Empire was very reserved when it came to Virox's dossier, and the carvin wasn't exactly willing to share much either. And even though she had already guessed that trying to prod the carvin for more information would most likely end in failure or even setbacks to her intelligence gathering efforts, what little he told her was still valuable.
A second thought started running through Miranda's mind, in parallel to the analysis of these revelations. One that made Miranda very uneasy. An idea that Virox was perhaps not as different from her as she wanted him to be. He was also uncomfortably correct in his assessment. She too was genetically designed and tailored to whatever whim or vision her father had for her. Her entire youth and education were crafted for the sole reason of building a dynasty.
She pushed the thought away. She managed to escape and even prevent her sister from suffering the same fate, while Virox was still stuck in servitude of his government. All she could (and would) spare him was the faintest thought of pity. Nothing more.
"I don't ask for your compassion. All I want to do is apologize for dismissing you as someone lesser than you really are. I took you for an indoctrinated servant, with your eyes set firmly on the 'cause', like I have seen with many fanatical loyalists in the past." Virox said, as if reading her mind. "I'm not designed for perfection, but I can and will own my mistakes. Whatever they may be."
Miranda looked at him and studied his expression, once again finding no signs of dishonesty, before answering "Apology accepted."
The carvin turned away and headed towards the door. A short hiss accompanied the opening of the bulkhead, and as Miranda was about to return to her work, Virox stopped in the doorway one final time.
"And don't take this as a tacit permission to spy on me. I would much rather avoid having to make good on my threats." He said, for the first time accenting his words with a low growl.
"I can obey Shepard's orders just like you." She replied with a smile and a moment later the carvin was gone.
Relieved that this conversation was finally over, she looked back to her computer and opened a new document which would soon contain a report on what she had just learned about Virox. Both the Illusive Man and Yeoman Chambers would receive a copy, though the latter only a trimmed version. Knowing what to expect from all the members of their unique team was essential to their final success, and especially so when a member of an enigmatic species such as the carvins was concerned. And perhaps knowing some more personal details about Virox would finally put the human crew at ease whenever he interacted with them.
Her fingers ran over the holographic keys as the report started to take form, and with it so did Virox's image in her own mind. Previously she viewed him as little more than an aggressive alien enigma, but perhaps there was more to him than the rows of sharp teeth and the imposing posture indicated.
Guess I was somewhat wrong about you too. She thought, allowing herself the briefest of smiles before sending both this new and the original report to the Illusive Man.
Now to trim the former and send it to Kelly for future reference.
RUPERT GARDNER
Mess Sergeant Rupert Gardner made no secret of his dislike and distrust of aliens. He lost everything to batarian slavers, and he saw with his own eyes the impotence of the Citadel Council as well as the Systems Alliance that tried so hard to suck up to them. His time spent with Cerberus, and especially under Shepard's command, was a clear indication to him that the traditional governments and institutions were not where the real change was being done.
However this came with a small but noticeable inconvenience. While Gardner himself (alongside some of the Cerberus crew) harbored some reasonable and healthy distrust towards aliens, the Commander had no such reservations, and was content on bringing ever stranger alien individuals onboard the ship. Apparently some of the aliens were Shepard's old friends, back from when she commanded the original Normandy. This did little to ease Gardner's skepticism, but at least with the turian and the quarian he could defer to Shepard's past experiences with them. The same could not be said about the rest of the aliens, who ranged from mildly unsettling to outright terrifying.
On the surface, the salarian professor Mordin Solus seemed practically harmless. He looked small, thin, frail, and almost gave off an impression that a gust of wind was enough to knock him over. But the crew, Gardner included, knew that there was more to the amphibian doctor that met the eye, and that he could probably dispatch them all with ease. If not with a gun then with food poisoning. This was why Gardner regularly asked EDI whether Mordin was doing anything around his food supplies and ingredients.
The next scariest member was the baby krogan Grunt. The massive lizard had this almost perpetual sadistic grin on his face, which appeared to intensify whenever he looked at someone. Also he was a pain to maintain, and Gardner was unfortunately one of the 'lucky' ones to have to clean up after him when Grunt was away on missions. Now normally one would put an angry krogan somewhere near the top of the list of potential threats. The fact that this wasn't the case onboard the Normandy was an indication of how dangerous the rest of the aliens were.
Thane Krios was like a ghost. He had an almost uncanny ability to appear seemingly out of nowhere and vanish the same way. His steps made practically no noise, and, shortly after he was recruited, some of the crew confessed to Gardner that they had trouble sleeping due to fear that the drell assassin would come into their dorms and snap their necks during their slumber. It helped somewhat that Thane was always polite and apologetic for unintentionally scaring the crew, attributing his way of movement to years of training and muscle memory.
Justicar Samara. Her biotics were so powerful that one couldn't help but feel a faint tingle whenever she passed by. The closest human equivalent Gardner could think of for an asari justicar was a mix of a warrior monk and a vigilante sheriff. He hadn't had the time to read up on them, but from what Hadley told them, justicars were apparently obligated by their Code to kill a criminal on sight. This wasn't at all reassuring, considering that Cerberus was a criminal organization in the eyes of all other alien governments. Still, she was yet to try and kill them so that was something, although nobody really wanted to find out if or when that situation would change.
And then there was Virox. Out of all the xeno additions to the crew, he was hands down the most alien of them all. Whereas the others were all bipedal with four limbs and a mostly vertical posture, the carvin's body was bent slightly forwards, keeping balance only thanks to a massive spiked tail. His large posture combined with cybernetic replacements for all his limbs made his presence unmistakable and unmissable whenever he entered a room. A low rumble always followed his footsteps.
For most this would already be enough to actively avoid the carvin, but Gardner did not have that luxury. Given that one of his jobs was cooking for the crew, and the fact that other crewmembers did not dare to bring food directly to the carvin, he was forced to come face to face with Virox whenever the latter came in person to receive his meal. The three insect-like outer jaws laced with teeth, combined with the second set where his actual mouth was, were enough to give him a cold sweat whenever the towering alien stood in front of him. Thankfully the carvin never stuck around and always took his food back to the main battery, coming back only to return the plate and cutlery.
"Hey Rupert! I know that you consider your calamari gumbo your culinary Magnum Opus, but I really hope you can make something good with those new supplies that isn't seafood." Zach Matthews, who came down from Deck 2 and awaited the upcoming meal alongside the rest of the crew, called out. "Or is it only squids and shrimp that the Commander manage to buy for you?"
"Yeah, most of us aren't used to this 'marine diet' on the daily. Give us something closer to home." Jenny Goldstein chimed in.
"Quit yapping about." Gardner rolled his eyes while stirring a special sauce of his own recipe that he came up with to accompany the main dish. "I swear, a man finally gets to make a decent meal with good ingredients and you lot suddenly act like this is a Michelin Star restaurant in Paris or the Presidium."
"I mean if the ingredients are the only problem, then surely with that being solved you can cook us some fine meat, can't you?" Richard Hadley jokingly asked.
"Y'all are so sick of seafood, maybe I'll just go back to making the Chef's Special if you miss it so much." Gardner playfully bit back, eliciting laughter among all those present. "Don't you worry your little heads. I've prepared something truly special for today, which is why I need your inputs. How do y'all want your steak?"
At the sound of the word 'steak' all the crewmembers cheered, and the Mess Sergeant smiled, wondering how it was that all it took for the crew to keep their high spirits was a decent meal. And he would give them more than that. The meat that Commander bought him wasn't just some second-grade tube-grown garbage, but genuine fresh beef. He could only imagine how expensive it must have been to procure alongside the rest of the ingredients, which made him appreciate and respect Shepard all the more.
Having taken orders for how the crew wanted their steak, he also kept in mind to prepare a small dedicated portion for the dextro-protein members. Among the ingredients he received was a dedicated portion for them, since they couldn't eat levo foods. Naturally this left him with a smaller choice to pick from, but he did make a few portions of grilled xemna meat (a turian herd animal), choosing to believe that it was as close as he could get to a dextro steak under the circumstances. He knew that the quarian in particular could probably appreciate the gesture, since she once told him that 'meat was extremely rare back home'. She was one of the aliens Gardner was most accepting of, since after her arrival he had much less technical maintenance to do.
News of the steak being prepared spread quickly through the ship, and given that the Normandy was safely travelling in FTL, even those currently on their shifts came in to take their portions with them back to their posts. Deck 3 became more crowded and chatty, with the only interruption being a brief moment when Operative Lawson emerged from her office to look at the commotion. Most of them half-expected her to berate them for being so noisy, but she simply took her plate, sampled the stake and told them to carry on before returning to her 'crypt', much to everyone's surprise and relief.
The aliens for the most part did not overstay their welcome and took their plates to their rooms, for which Gardner was grateful. At least they did until the doors to the main battery opened and two figures emerged.
"Oh come on, it's one meal. Is it really too much for you?" A familiar turian voice echoed from the hallway.
"I don't like their company and they for sure don't enjoy mine. What's the point?" The equally memorable voice, consisting of insectoid squeaks and clicks, spoke in reply.
Gardner immediately figured out what was going on, and sure enough the rest of the crew also noticed, turning their heads almost in unison towards the main battery. The loud chatter omnipresent on Deck 3 died down, with only a few people still speaking back in the Starboard Observatory common room.
"Evening, everyone." Said Garrus Vakarian walking down the stairs and into the mess room, followed shortly by his carvin companion. He then lifted his chin, seemingly taking a deep breath. "Mmmm, looks like the Mess Sergeant had outdone himself yet again. What are you all eating?"
"A steak. Somehow the Commander managed to get us some real cow meat." Thomas Hawthorne replied, perhaps having his tongue loosened a bit by the rare dish he was now consuming. The rest of the crew remained relatively silent.
"A cow, huh? I heard from some human friends that it's pretty popular. Wish I could try it without... you know, dying." Garrus chuckled, and the atmosphere became ever so slightly more relaxed. He then turned towards Gardner, with Virox silently following suit. "I wonder if perhaps, among the available meat supplies, the Mess Sergeant managed to find something more dextro-friendly."
"You're in luck, mister Vakarian. Everyone gets to have some meat today." Gardner answered, although a single chilling droplet of sweat ran down the back of his neck and under his shirt, as the piercing gaze of the carvin weighed heavily on him. "I, uh... managed to make some impromptu xemna meat, partially from an extranet recipe. Don't really know how it turned out since I can't taste test it. Give me a moment, I'll have it ready in a second."
He turned towards one of the previously prepared portions, while conveniently looking away from Virox. Before long he filled a plate with the xemna meat, some sauce to complement it, and a portion of what probably passed for vegetables in dextro-protein cuisine. Garrus took the plate and sampled some of the meat mixed with the sauce.
"Hmmm. Not bad at all." He judged, visibly savoring the taste. "Although... it could do with some taetrian spices. I could pick some up from the Citadel, but with the war recovery still ongoing I can't imagine it'll be cheap."
"Well, I'm just glad it doesn't taste like a varren's ass, which is what I feared it would." Gardner replied, then somewhat timidly turned towards Virox, who was yet to receive his own portion. "What about you? You can eat steak, right? How do you want it? Rare, medium, well done?"
Virox glanced at the raw sliver of meat designated as his. It was noticeably larger than those of the other crewmembers, but both EDI and Doctor Chakwas had informed him in the past that carvins required a higher calory intake than most other species, which was why Virox's food allocation was often higher than that of others.
"Let it sizzle on the pan for thirty seconds on each side. It'll be enough." He requested, and Gardner could swear that he saw the carvin's tongue briefly running over his inner jaws.
"Uh, sure. Very rare. Yeah, I can do that." The Mess Sergeant promptly answered and got to work.
Soon both aliens had their portions. This was usually the time where they both took their food and returned to the main battery. But to Gardner's horror, they instead headed towards the dining table. His sentiment must have been shared by the other members of the crew, since some of them awkwardly looked away from the approaching aliens, while others even shivered in visible discomfort.
"You must tell me how that steak tastes. Until now I only had opinions from humans. If it's really as good as they say then I may just take immunosuppressants for a chance to experience that taste, even if only once." Garrus joked as the two of them took their seats. He then glanced at the humans sitting in front of him. "What's the matter, guys? I know I am THE Archangel, the most notorious vigilante of Omega, but that didn't seem to bother you before."
He chuckled softly, and both Hadley and Matthews hesitantly joined in. Goldstein could only muster an abashed smile, since she was obviously the most uncomfortable in the current company, and the overall atmosphere hadn't gotten any less tense.
"I don't think it's you they're nervous about." Virox suddenly spoke, his eyes still glued to the practically raw meat on his plate.
"I was trying to make the atmosphere more relaxed." Garrus looked disapprovingly at the carvin. "Thank you for ruining it."
"You're welcome." The latter replied, completely unfazed by the turian's scorn.
Instead he was focused solely on the steak. Gardner watched with mixed emotions as Virox cut a small piece of the meat and let his inner jaws consume it. There was something so strange and 'alien' in the way he ate. The soft meat vanished inside the mouth of the carvin as he absorbed the taste.
"Hmmm. Tasty. Much better than varren's ass. And I should know, I'm speaking from experience." He mused, and after quickly spreading some sauce on the remaining steak, he impaled the entire thing with his fork and put it to his mouth.
The sharp teeth on his three long outer jaws pierced the barely cooked meat, and small droplets of cow blood shot out of the flesh under pressure. He then pulled on the meat with the strength of his entire head and ripped off a sizable chunk, before it was led into the inner jaws by the outer set. The process repeated itself a few times until there was nothing left of the meat. Vegetables vanished almost as quickly as the steak, although there was considerably less enthusiasm during their consumption.
Gardner, along with the rest of the crew, observed the spectacle, trying to hold back a nervous shiver building up at the top of his back. Cow blood stained the carvin's teeth. When he ate, he didn't look like he was enjoying a meal. He looked like he was devouring a freshly hunted prey. His long snake-like tongue emerged from the mouth and cleaned the few remain bloodstains once he finished. The pupils of his eyes twitched, having become narrower, like those of a predatory reptile.
"Delicious. But I wonder... would it taste better if it was raw or cooked even more?" He said and collected his plate and tableware, before taking it straight to Gardner. "I'm impressed, Mess Sergeant. With those culinary skills, I might eat you last in case we run out of food supplies."
His jaws then suddenly shot out and seemingly gnawed at Gardner's face. For a split second Mess Sergeant saw his life flash before his eyes, as his body instinctively recoiled backwards to evade the jaws. His back collided with the cupboards behind him and only then did Gardner realize that Virox hadn't actually hurt him. Instead he was standing behind the counter, albeit still intensely staring at him.
And then a rhythmic clicking escaped the carvin's mouth. He broke eye contact and the sound became even more pronounced. Much to his surprise (and annoyance) Gardner finally recognized the sound as 'laughter', or at least the closest carvin equivalent. Virox was laughing.
"You did not faint or run away. I respect that. Don't worry, I have no plans on eating you lot any time soon." The carvin remarked, still chuckling, before turning towards Garrus. "You were right, Vakarian. This meal was good for me in the end."
"I would say 'I told you so', but that was just not nice." The turian replied, having also left his plate on the counter. "You scared the entire crew, nevermind the Mess Sergeant."
Indeed Gardner noticed that the eyes of other human crewmembers were opened just a tad bit wider than usual, and that they were nervously glancing at the carvin from their seats. Their legs were shifted to the side of their chairs so that they could quickly stand up and run away just in case. Gardner took some comfort in the fact that they shared his fears, if only to a smaller extent.
"Thanks for the compliment." Virox said and both of them made their way back to the main battery laughing. Garrus gave one final goodbye to Gardner and the crew sitting at the table, which they were too uneasy to reciprocate. Shortly after the bulkhead of the main battery closed and Deck 3 fell silent.
When it became clear that the aliens would not come back for the time being, the humans relaxed. Their breaths, which they tried to keep calm, became heavy with huffs and sighs of relief.
"I hate it when he comes around." Hadley finally broke the silence. "At least with the tank-bred krogan you know what to expect, and you could probably outrun him. But the carvin? He gives me the chills."
"You got that right." Goldstein agreed, her face a bit whiter than usual. "I mean did you see how he ate? And a steak that was practically raw? You can't look at him doing that and not think about your own arm or leg being stuck in his jaws."
Others joined in, sharing their own observations and fears regarding the carvin. It would have been interesting to say the least if he heard them talk about him in this manner behind his back. All of them knew about the fiery stand-off between the alien and Operative Lawson, and she had biotics on her side. But then again it wasn't out of the question that he could hear them anyway. Nobody really knew how good Virox's hearing was, though by the looks of things they at least hoped it wasn't good enough to hear them at the moment.
Gardner listened to their conversation in silence. Their remarks were quite accurate and he had no issue relating to them. Hell, just a few moments ago he was an inch or so away from losing a better part of his face.
But then he thought about what Hadley said. About how the krogan were less scary than Virox simply because of the fact that they were a known entity, and the realization hit him. He didn't feel as uncomfortable around the other aliens since he knew their species somewhat, and if he had any trouble understanding something the extranet was always there to help him. Carvins were different. Aside from being large and mean looking, nobody really knew what to expect from them. Most -people hadn't even seen a live carvin in their life. They were an unknown.
Virox himself did not help matters with his secretive attitude and a very overt disdain for most of the human crew (it wasn't really clear if this was because of their race or their affiliation with Cerberus, and nobody was brave enough to ask). In fact, this brief lunch visit was arguably the longest and most meaningful interaction the carvin had had with them so far. And yet it did so much to lift the spell of dread.
Yes, Gardner was still terrified by the alien, since he wasn't fond of non-humans in general, and the carvin's overall appearance didn't invite trust. But at the very least now he had some idea on who he was dealing with. And anyone with more sense of humor than Operative Lawson already had their standing increased substantially in Gardner's eyes. Even if that sense of humor had a pinch of psychopathy sprinkled into the mix.
As the rest of the crew continued their discussion on their reception of the carvin, Gardner allowed a small chuckled to escape his lips. He still wasn't sure about having all these xenos aboard, but having served a few months under Shepard's command and alongside her alien squadmates he was slowly starting to see what she was on about.
He sighed, letting the pressure that had built up in his body finally escape, while still keeping a tiny smile on his face. Then he glanced at the stacks of dirty dishes and tableware and figured that after today's feast he would have his hands full well into the evening. Thus he got to work amidst the increasingly lively chatter of the crew.
Hell, maybe one day I'll manage to look him in the eye without almost crapping myself. He thought, while filling the empty dishwasher with plates.
SAMARA
Very rarely did Samara leave her quarters in the Starboard Observation Room if not requested to accompany the Commander for a mission, instead preferring to spend most of her time meditating and contemplating both recent events and the Code. But in spite of grueling training and centuries of experience, her body was still flesh and she sometimes needed to stretch her legs. That, combined with the fact that her life quest to hunt down Morinth - the very reason she became a Justicar in the first place - was now completed, she found herself leaving the comfortable walls of the Observation Room more often than before.
She was meditating about her future and what would come now that the Galaxy was rid of Morinth's destructive presence. She couldn't retire of course - the oaths of a Justicar were binding until death - nor could she settle down with her other two daughters. But maybe, once the Collector threat was vanquished, she could perhaps spend a little time with them before returning to her duties. A brief visit was all that the Code would permit. She hadn't heard from them in centuries, and hadn't seen them even longer. The yearning of companionship and familiar love hadn't fully disappeared after years of her service to the Code. It was always there, like an old scar that would never truly fade away.
Her meditation was disrupted once again by her own body. The feeling of thirst, while not severe, still distracted her from her thoughts, more so because they were so personal. Reluctantly she stood up and left the room, heading for Port Observation Room where drinks were stored. She passed the Memorial Wall, with the names of the fallen crewmembers of the first Normandy inscribed in two neat rows. A sign of respect, one that always struck her as uncharacteristic of an organization such as Cerberus. Most of the crew weren't involved in Commander Shepard's efforts two years ago, which was why this gesture felt more like an appropriation of someone else's glory. Still, the Commander didn't seem to mind, nor did the other veterans of her crew.
As she walked, she briefly sensed an invisible presence to her right. 'Kasumi' was observing her. Samara was yet to come into direct conflict with the thief, and while she did not approve of the human's profession, they seemed to have come to a silent understanding and made sure to avoid direct encounters if possible. What was strange, however, was the fact that the human had left her usual resting place and, instead of simply wandering around the ship like she usually did, she simply waited next to the elevator, unwilling to come into the room.
Samara did not have to wait long for the answer to this mystery, as she immediately noticed the reason. While everything that was normally inside the room was placed exactly where it was supposed to and did not give any reason to be concerned, it was what (or more accurately 'who') usually wasn't there that could give most people on the Normandy a pause.
In the middle of the room, standing by the the open observation window was none other than Virox, gazing into the endless void. The Normandy was presently heading for a nearby Mass Relay, and so one could clearly see the view outside, which presently was adorned by a comet. Its tail, while actually massive in scope, appeared to be merely a tiny smudge on the star-filled black. It was that comet that Virox was presently focusing his eyes on.
Based off of the limited interactions she had with him, as well as the gossip between the human crew, Samara half-expected the carvin to tense up, especially given that someone was approaching from behind. But surprisingly nothing of the sort occurred, instead he was still focused at the distant celestial object moving towards the edge of the window.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Samara asked, joining Virox by the window. "The vastness of space seems to have a calming effect on everyone, regardless of their species."
He did not reply immediately, but a slight twitch of his eyes in her direction was a clear indication that he acknowledged both her presence and her statement. In this pose, silently staring through the glass, he almost seemed smaller. Definitely less imposing than usual, which was perhaps why the aura around him was less hostile and more inviting to outsiders.
"My people have always seen the sky and space as realms of the divine. Places we are destined to return to." He finally answered, still focused on the comet that was about to disappear from view. "Our natural superiority, the fact that we managed to conquer and subjugate our planet with such ease, even our wings..." He paused at that last word and pressed a button on his wrist, prompting a pair of feathered appendages to emerge from his back. "...are supposed to be a reminder that we belong up there, not tethered to the ground. That we have to earn our way back into the divine realm through the conquest and control of ourselves and our instincts."
"And the comets and shooting stars are seen as important signs." Samara deduced, receiving a nod from the carvin.
"The stars are seen as the dead who lived virtuous lives. Shooting stars or meteors that vanish in the atmosphere... they are the souls of those who were refused entry or were for some reason cast out. Burning bright in their attempt to be accepted but ultimately being extinguished through their failure." Virox said, and his expression seemed to shift into one of deep melancholy. "As for comets, given that they regularly return, they are seen as messengers. Either divine beings or the most virtuous mortal souls that appear from time to time to inspire us to do great deeds."
"Curious..." Samara remarked. She came into contact with many alien cultures that attributed religious and cultural significance to the stars during her quest, and the carvins did not strike her as the sort to be overly spiritual. At least based off of Virox's past behavior. "But you do not believe?"
"No, I was... compelled to leave my faith behind. But I still inherited its cultural impact, like all of my people." He answered, finally looking at her directly. The word 'compelled' also felt like a euphemism for something more severe. "You must have met many aliens. You figured us, or... well, me... quite quickly. Tali was more surprised by my people's spirituality."
As he said those words, his expression soured, and his wings dropped. Samara did not need to wonder why. Almost two weeks ago the entire ship was abuzz with talk about the secret carvin facility and Tali's condition after the quarian was taken into the medbay in critical condition straight out of the shuttle. And while her health had somewhat returned and she could conduct some basic work on the ship, she was still under strict observation and often visited the medbay for check-ups. It was abundantly clear that Virox felt responsible for this state of affairs, a feeling that bothered him significantly, or else he wouldn't have reacted the way he had.
The comet disappeared from view, and so Samara stepped away from the window to attend to the main reason why she came here. She approached the bar and browsed through the drinks. The Justicar Code had imposed many things upon those who followed its path, but asceticism wasn't one of them. Justicars were often celebrities, recipients of awards and gifts from influential people. Drinking alcohol was therefore not prohibited.
She browsed the liquor stash of the Normandy to find something softer on the liver, and when she did, she turned back towards Virox, who was still looking at where the comet used to be just a few moments before.
"Care for a drink?" She asked.
Virox waited for a few seconds, contemplating the idea, before answering simply "Sure."
And so they got to work, with Samara opening the bottle using her biotics. A soft fruity scent, pleasant to the nostrils, escaped it. Meanwhile the carvin reached for a pair of glasses from one of the cupboards. He lifted them out of their container and was about to place them on the countertop when one of the glasses suddenly shattered in his hand, launching crystalline shards, big and small, all over the surface.
"Blasted voidspawn, son of a..." A string of what must have been less-than-flattering untranslatable epithets came out of Virox's mouth, as he slowly placed the second glass on the countertop, extra careful to not break it too. "Give me a moment, I'll clean it up."
"No need." Samara replied and extended the palm of her hand towards the shards.
Her fine-tuned biotics came to life as she carefully pushed the tiny specks of debris towards one place, forming a singular larger pile in the process. The shards dutifully moved in accordance with her will and after a few seconds there was no glass left on the countertop that wasn't already part of the pile.
"Thank you. And sorry about that." Virox said, before scooping the shards with his hands and throwing them in the trash.
"You seem unsettled." Samara remarked while pouring the beverage for herself and the carvin. "Battle fatigue and exhaustion are natural occurrences for warriors, and it is important to regularly restore one's inner balance. I could teach you how to do that through meditation. My people mastered its art over millennia."
"It's not that." Virox scoffed half-heartedly, having put a straw into his drink and taken a sip. "Everything is so much more fragile out here than back home. Glasses, buildings, equipment... people."
The last word once again weighed down heavily on him, and he folded his wings into their hiding place on his back. His tail practically hugged the ground, and his general demeanor suggested a state of deep melancholy and dejection.
"You speak of Tali." Samara mused.
"Not just her, though I guess physical fragility is the most obvious aspect of all this." Virox answered. "But it's also the psychological kind that I cannot relate to. Like trying to save everyone every time. The priceless nature of individual life, it's... alien to me."
"So you believe that not all lives deserve to be saved?" Samara asked yet again, wishing to understand where the carvin was coming from.
"Don't you? I've heard you have no issue ending the lives of those committing wicked acts, regardless of whether people committing them had done so out of genuine malice or were forced into them by circumstances." He pointed out. His glass was already almost empty and so he poured some more liquor into it. "I'm starting to think that you would either get along very well with the Ravashir, or try to kill them over technicalities."
Samara did not know who or what Ravashir was, but judging purely by the context, she suspected that it could have been some sort of equivalent to asari justicars, albeit less 'spiritual' and more institutionalized, considering the apparently far-reaching influence and control of the carvin state. But Virox's tone also betrayed some sort of distaste.
"I'm sensing that the parallels you have drawn are by no means flattering." She said, stopping short of a direct accusation.
"Then I phrased it wrong. I despise the Ravashir on a personal level because they kept senselessly bothering me back home, but I can't really argue with the reasons for their existence. Both them and you are meant to be the guardians of justice and law, something I completely agree with. Though their mode of operations is more similar to the Spectres from what I've heard." He explained, but seeing her reaction added "I'm guessing that comparison to the Spectres isn't flattering either."
"We have different roles to play, and our methods also differ greatly." This time it was Samara that clarified her position. "I have once faced a Spectre, and while I couldn't condone his ruthlessness, I still admired his skills. He was one of the very few individuals that ever managed to escape my pursuit."
"Would've been interesting to see that, I'm sure." Virox remarked before focusing on his drink once again.
They sat in silence for a while, pouring yet another glass for themselves (Virox being on his third by this point). The carvin was visibly delicate with his glass, as if expecting it to shatter in his hands at the slightest increase in pressure. By now the fruity aroma had well and truly filled the room, causing a pleasant tingling in one's nostrils.
"Say... You've been around for quite some time now, haven't you? What, at least 400, 500 years?" He finally spoke again.
"I am nearing a millennium. But you flatter me with your conservative estimates." Samara allowed herself a small smile.
"So you've lived through a fair share of of the recent galactic history. The aftermath of the Krogan rebellions, the geth uprising, human rise to prominence." Virox continued, seemingly unfazed by her remark. "Based on what have already seen, how are my people faring in the grand scheme of things?"
Samara wasn't a stranger to these types of questions. She was in her matriarch stage after all. It was customary for both her people and the shorter-living aliens to seek guidance from the venerable members of her species. She also had the distinct advantage of having spent a much longer time outside of asari space than most of her justicar comrades, and so she was able to see much of the galaxy during her pursuit of Morinth.
But the carvins were a different beast entirely. Not only were they extremely recent arrivals (a single year for an asari was but a fleeting moment), but their cautious and secretive approach made it difficult to get to know them. Virox, whether he was aware of it or not, was both a perfect example of this, but also ironically the only real window into carvin culture and society the whole Normandy crew had.
"I cannot say for now. Too short a time has passed and too little interactions were had between your people and those of the rest of the galaxy." She said, studying the carvin's reaction. He was listening calmly. "However I can see in your culture the signs of a bold determination that makes you aim at great heights, as well as the cold calculating ruthlessness that could help you reach them. But be warned, for even though this may earn you the respect of some, it will make you few friends."
Virox absorbed the meaning of her words in silence. He did not seem to have any gripe with her observations, although he was clearly wise enough to not take them at face value, as the irises of his eyes twitched ever so slightly from left to right, seemingly following his train of thought.
"Our relentless drive and ruthless efficiency are not due to boldness or bravery... but fear. A traumatic, pathological, existential dread." He almost whispered the words, and the almost tangible weight he put behind them suggested that he knew what he was talking about. "Most will deny it if asked, but we are terrified of other sapients. Or rather what they could do to us."
"And what would that be?" Samara asked.
"Our first contact with aliens, what would eventually be called The Grox War, lasted eleven years. Little over a hundredth of our singular lifetime." Virox said, and his gaze somehow became even more distant. "In that time nearly a third of our homeworld's population perished. Whatever off-world settlements we established or were in the process of establishing were annihilated. It was called the greatest calamity that ever befell the Empire. Once it ended, our entire civilization implicitly promised to not allow anything of similar scale to happen again. And since sapient aliens were the cause... well, I think you can understand our distrust. That is why we waited so long before revealing ourselves, spying on you in the meantime."
"An unfortunate reaction... but unsurprising, I suppose." Samara admitted. "Then in that case, I sincerely hope that your people find the strength within themselves to master and overcome this fear and join the galactic community as equals."
Virox's eyes refocused and he let out a sound that she assumed was a carvin equivalent of a chuckle. "I'll drink to that."
He lifted the glass from the table, perhaps a bit too quickly, and raised it to his mouth. But before he could fit the straw in between his jaws, a high-pitched crack came from the glass, and once again shards of glass fell onto the countertop, accompanied by droplets of the sweet fruity drink. Still, this time only the uppermost part of the vessel gave in, leaving the rest of it relatively intact.
Virox closed his eyes and his jaws trembled angrily, but no sound escaped his mouth. Not a single word, not one annoyed growl. After finally opening his eyes, he used his second hand to support the glass from the bottom before carefully putting it back down. Then he lifted his gaze from the damaged container and onto Samara.
"You know, I might just take you up on that meditation offer." He scoffed.
A/N: Once again sorry for the late upload. Recently I haven't been feeling well both physically and mentally. Got stuck on the bit with Samara for well over a week, unable to write a word. Hopefully I'll get better soon, but then again I'm not here to make excuses. Have a good one. I don't know when the next one is going to be done.