Crescent Nebula, Tasale System, Illium

Nos Astra, Liara's apartment

2311 Local Time, July 21st, 2185 Gregorian Calendar

After a full day's work all Liara's body craved was the comfort of warm food and a soft bed. It has been quite an eventful evening. A tense stand-off between a buyer's security detail and her own representative's hired muscle had almost escalated into violence, but her timely intervention (helped by her hard-earned reputation) managed to diffuse the situation. A few other large transactions were also certain to boost her account's balance and help fund her... other expenses.

It was the results of these expenses that she was now reviewing, sitting at her desk already in her sleepwear and staring at her computer. Her dinner, barely touched, was to the side and slowly going cold. Even after leveraging numerous valuable favors and expending enormous amounts of both resources and credits, her contacts found nothing that moved her closer to finding the Shadow Broker. Most of them came back empty-handed or with data that wasn't worth the cost to acquire it. The few that did not come back vanished in some perfectly mundane circumstances, something Liara attributed to the skill in subterfuge of the Broker's operatives.

Shepard's help with exposing Nyxeris was a massive help to her efforts, but her hopes that the data carried by such a valuable operative would set her on a clear path to the Broker were soon dashed. The Broker often had contingencies upon contingencies for these types of situations, and Liara's search once again seemed to stall. Shepard did contact her again recently with news that she acquired some data that could potentially lead to some big discovery if decoded, but privately Liara doubted that it would contain anything that she didn't already know.

Then there was one other option she was yet to explore. It was not a lead per se, more of an angle of approach, but the potential risks were enough to discourage her from pursuing it so far. That being the Carvin Empire.

After a brief period of he carvins made no secret of their absolute hatred and disdain for the Shadow Broker. In fact they openly crafted both their internal and foreign policies at least partly around their efforts to combat his influence. They did not lack neither the resources nor the will to do what was needed, as evidenced by their overwhelming and perhaps needlessly exaggerated reactions. And there was the issue - they did not have the necessary skills and knowledge of galactic affairs to support their well-supplied efforts. Both of which she could assist them with.

But Liara had reasons to be wary of cooperation with the insectoid aliens. For starters they did not just hate the Shadow Broker, they seemed to loathe all criminal elements within and around the Terminus Systems. From the well-established criminal bosses to irritating but mostly harmless smugglers, they were all treated the same and ruthlessly stamped out by the carvins. And while most of what she was doing was technically legal on Illium, she doubted that the carvins would see it the same way.

A cooperation with the Carvin Empire could also put a bigger target on her, one that she was not necessarily comfortable with having. The current status quo, where Shadow Broker was still clearly underestimating her and thus allowed her to operate more freely, suited her fine. The moment the Broker would start seeing her as a legitimate threat, she would be on the clock to find him before his agents killed her.

Still, in the absence of other options, cooperation with the carvins seemed more tempting by the day. Part of Liara's mind urged her to contact the Carvin Empire if Shepard's information proved to be of little use, and at this point, feeling tired, desperate, grasping at straws, she had no will to argue with it.

With a sigh of dejection she pushed away her computer and decided to finish her meal, preferring not to go to sleep on an empty stomach. The food had gone mostly lukewarm by this point, but she was used to it. At this late an hour all of it tasted equally bland. Besides, she could always eat something hot for breakfast tomorrow.

She was almost done with the meal when her computer started letting out soft beeps in regular intervals - a request for contact. Liara dropped her fork in surprise, before shoving the food out of the way once again and looking back at the computer's screen. Perhaps it was finally some good news.

Indeed it was a request to establish connection, but strangely the caller was none of her known contacts. While she did not rule out the possibility that they were using stolen or appropriated communications, those past two years had taught her to be cautious. She set up all of her firewalls and quickly ran the IP address through various databases and screens. No results, not even a cluster or general region of origin. Enough to make her extremely suspicious.

Her heart started beating faster. The surge of hope had suddenly transformed into dread and unease. What if it was a trap? What if the Broker finally decided to end her? But she had to take that chance. She hadn't gotten this far into her pursuit without taking risks. With trembling fingers she opened the channel.

"Yes?" She asked, consciously trying to calm down her tone.

"Doctor T'Soni." Came a voice from the other side.

It spoke in asari language but was heavily encrypted, to the point that it would have been near impossible to associate it with her own species. Such a level of artificial distortion and encryption immediately made her think of the Shadow Broker, but this wouldn't be the first time she had dealt with a customer that preferred to remain anonymous.

"I am contacting you as a representative of an interest group that has taken a notice of your activities. Activities of which the aim seems to align with the interests of my employers." The voice continued. "They wish to extend an offer of business cooperation to you, or at the very least a purchase of your services, and offer handsome compensation for either option."

"I'm sure we could come to a mutually beneficial agreement. What sort information do you seek? What would such cooperation entail?" Liara answered the question with one of her own. "I shall inform you of the price of either, and if I do not have the information you seek on hand, you will also receive a notice about additional costs as well as the estimated time of acquisition."

"I am afraid that, due to the lackluster data security on your planet of residence, I cannot disclose all of the finer details of the offer in this transmission." The mysterious individual replied. "My employers have allowed me to share the fact that the cooperation would strengthen your own business position and more importantly hurt your biggest competitors."

The wording used was clearly made to be intentionally vague and imprecise without knowing the proper context - the exact way someone would try to hide something from outside observers. However, the problem was that Liara wasn't sure if she knew the proper context, and she was the one being addressed. Nonetheless, she had a sneaking suspicion about whom she was talking to, and she did not like it one bit.

"There are very few competitors who could even remotely threaten my position. And for them I am well prepared. If you're offering me security from or hostile action against my competition as payment, then no matter what your request would be, the deal is very one-sided. Again, I would need specifics regarding the nature of your request. Only then can I calculate the cost of the service."

For a moment there was no response, and Liara instinctively checked her firewalls and security programs for signs of intrusions. So far they did not show any indication of hostile action, but if the person on the other side was who - or more accurately 'what' - Liara thought it was, then there was a very real possibility that there wouldn't be any until it was too late.

"...My employers are willing to approach you after they have been cheated by one of your competitors. The greatest one of them all, if our own information is in order. One that we know for a fact you are intensely trying to drive out of business. Permanently." The voice finally said. "Aside from a generous upfront payment and a steady stream of orders in the future, they offer you resources and other types of assistance in your endeavors to do so. In exchange you will share any and all actionable intel about the target and agree for a mutual information exchange for the duration of the joint efforts to eliminate them."

Bingo. With these three sentences Liara was certain she got almost everything she wanted: identity of the mysterious caller (or more accurately their 'employers'), the context needed to see through the deceptive speech, and most importantly what they wanted from her.

"Well... this certainly puts everything in a different light." She replied, feigning indifference. "I suppose now I understand your caution."

"Should you agree to hear the complete terms of exchange and begin cooperation in earnest, another representative of my employers will be ready to meet you in person in seven solar cycles at the latest." The mysterious individual informed her. "You should be warned, however, for our mutual acquaintance may already be in possession of information regarding my employers' intentions towards you. Be on your guard for preemptive strikes. We hope to hear your answer soon."

With that the connection ended abruptly, and Liara stared at the now dormant device in front of her. Blood flushed from her face and scalp, so much so that she felt a faint tingling numbness in the back of her head.

The carvins seemed to have made their first move and contacted her about the Shadow Broker. There were no aliens in service of their Empire as far as everyone was concerned, so she must have been talking to a carvin AI or a very advanced VI at the very least. Only that way could they replicate asari language and speech patterns so accurately. And mixed in with all the filler was what she had long expected to be the main request: they wanted her expertise and knowledge of the intricacies and inner workings of the criminal underworld. It was impossible to be sure how genuine were their propositions and whether Liara wasn't just being used by the enigmatic aliens.

But it was the last bit that scared her so much. If what the carvin contact said was true, if the Shadow Broker knew about their intention to cooperate with her and hunt him down together...

I wouldn't put it past him to know. She thought.

It was always possible that the carvins were bluffing to get what they want. But if they did, why risk so much? The evident generosity of their offer was a clear sign they found her quite valuable. Alas the only sensible explanation seemed to be that they told the truth and shared it for the dual purpose of pressuring her into a swift decision and to protect their potential asset. She hardly expected the ruthless and cynical carvins to have done this out of any misplaced sense of altruism.

The biggest irony was that, after lamenting about being stuck in place with her pursuit of the Broker, Liara would go to bed tonight dreading the fact that she moved a step closer to enacting her revenge. Though to be fair it really seemed like that step was taken for her by someone else, and not in the way she wanted.

Still feeling the unpleasant numbness in her scalp, she turned off the device in front of her and glanced at what was left of her dinner. The melted cheese covering the remaining vegetables was by now completely cold, having likely hardened enough to be crunchy if she tried to take a bite. Liara wasn't the type to waste food, but after this evening's revelations she physically couldn't force herself to finish the meal. She took the plate and slid its contents into the trash bin. They did not resist.

Her eyelids felt heavy, yet her mind was still in turmoil. She climbed the stairs and, dragging her feet on the floor by the end, collapsed onto the bed. Then everything went blurry as exhaustion finally caught up with her.

I really hope you'll have some good news for me, Shepard. A single thought went through her head before darkness overtook her.

Warp Tunnel

NSK Voidwalker, Null Group quarters

0604 Local Time, July 23rd, 2185 Gregorian Calendar

Punctually they received their first issue of rations for the day. Aside from the mess officer who brought them meals, the rest of the ship's crew did not much interact with them. Protocol specifically urged that both the combat and non-combat elements report strictly to the Commanding Officer, and that interaction between the two sections should be kept to a minimum.

Null Four was satisfied with this arrangement, since the crew often acted erratically and in ways he couldn't understand whenever they talked to him. Even the briefest and most to-the-point exchanges made his interlocutors uncomfortable. Their pheromones immediately shifted their scent to that indicative of stress, which confused him, but he dutifully followed his directives and did not press the issue in any way. Even his fellow Nulls barely spoke to one another, sometimes going for days at a time without a word between them.

Their commanding officer, Captain Irill Or'Zaal, was different. He was strict and demanding, but fair, and had shown them more consideration than anyone at the Mother Facility ever had. Although it had to be said that he also exhibited that strange distant behavior at first, but this faded away quickly after their first few assignments. Recently he even gave each one of them 'unique designations', or 'names'.

Null Four, or 'Slice' had a mixed opinion on them receiving distinctive designations, mostly because, once again, he did not understand the strange behavior around them. On the one hand he was pleased. Somehow being addressed in a unique way made something inside of him feel fuzzy, as if he had a more tangible grasp on who and what he was. He couldn't tell if the sentiment was shared by other Nulls, since he felt it was not mission-critical to ask them.

But on the other hand, the strange attitude of both the Captain and the ship crew towards these new designations made Slice feel perplexed. Supposedly these new designations were given to improve communication efficiency and brevity, but once they returned from deployments the Captain insisted that they avoid using them, especially around the crew. Furthermore he requested that Slice specifically, assisted by their VI 'Blink', edit all of the outgoing audio and video files destined for the Frontier Command in a way that would mask the use of these new designations. Why this measure was undertaken Slice did not know, but the Captain had insisted on maximum secrecy every time.

Unfortunately this was not the end of confusing problems. After their last failed mission to Omega the Captain's behavior... changed. He became noticeably more reclusive, and his pheromones were almost constantly indicating stress, even greater than that of the ship crew. At times he would have sudden outbursts of anger, which (if they happened to be the target of it) would trigger a visceral reaction in them.

Slice could not remember much from his time at the Mother Facility, but the feeling of discomfort and pain he was dealt whenever he disobeyed an instruction or had failed in an assignment echoed in his body with every scream and shout of their commanding officer. He was not alone in this sensation, as other Nulls (including even the massive Wraith) would shiver along with him, as if they were being shocked by the all too familiar zap rods of the Mother Facility.

It was clear that they had done something to displease their commander. But what was it? Where did they fail? What did they do wrong? Slice couldn't think of anything that was not objectively outside of their control. Unless that asari criminal, Aria T'Loak, was telling the truth. She seemed like she knew something about the Captain. But she was an enemy, she couldn't possibly know...

The four Nulls were just about finishing their meal in silence. The Captain was not with them, having left earlier to speak with the crew, which left Null Two, Roadkill, as the highest ranking individual in the room. Slice wrestled internally whether what he was about to do was a good idea or not. In the end he chose to go through with it, and after consuming the last part of his ration bar, he lifted his head and glanced at his comrade.

"Permission to speak." He said.

Surprise, perplexment, confusion. The other Nulls did not even bother hiding their emotions, and while Slice wasn't surprised by this, he felt a faint urge to back away from what he was trying to do. But he was committed now.

At first Roadkill did not seem to realize that he was the one being addressed, but once he did, he instinctively glanced at the entrance to their dorm before replying "Granted."

"Recent shift in Captain's behavior... worrying. Adverse effects on unit cohesion. Reasons unclear. Requesting guidance on how to proceed." Slice cautiously said.

Once again there was a good few seconds of silence as his comrades processed his words. Roadkill in particular seemed deep in thought. Slice knew from careful observation that his superior had noticed the same things he did. They all did.

"Remain focused. Questioning the Captain's abilities will be punished." Roadkill answered slowly, though there was a hint of doubt in his otherwise emotionless voice. Sharp blade tips peaked out of his knuckles with a barely audible squeak.

"Not questioning. Concern." Slice clarified. "Directive from the High General Council is clear - Protect, assist and follow orders. Captain's displeased attitude towards us suggests a breach of one of these instructions. But I cannot identify which and in what way. Repeating the request for guidance."

This time Roadkill reacted almost immediately. He broke off eye contact and stared at the table. His knuckle blades retracted, and Slice realized in disbelief that he saw an emotion he had never seen before in any of his teammates - shame.

"Possible explanation. I deviated from mission parameters. Afterlife. Requested a beverage without prior consultation with the Captain. He was displeased." Roadkill admitted. "Will request appropriate punishment from the Captain at the earliest convenience."

"Unlikely cause." This time Killstreak chimed in, having remained quiet so far. "In such case anger should have been directed only at the second-in-command, but all of us had been subjected to verbal reproaches. Reason has to be different."

They went silent, trying to think of a reason for why their commanding officer was acting in this way. Throughout this time a thought itched in the back of Slice's head. He couldn't get what he had heard back in Ish's apartment out of his mind. Both from the asari and their commander. What if that was the key to solving the mystery?

"During conversation with Aria T'Loak, Captain Or'Zall spoke of a promise. To find and kill the Shadow Broker. That the Broker betrayed him and the Empire." He spoke again. "The criminal, Aria T'Loak also remarked that his pursuit was... personal. The Captain mentioned that-" he hesitated briefly, wondering if he should say this or not. "-that we are not the first team he had."

Roadkill and Killstreak were the most moved by these revelations. The very fact that they were indicated that they either haven't heard that conversation or did not listen to it. Both were plausible options since they were the ones guarding the door to their target's apartment during and after the interrogation.

"Is this true?" The former asked Wraith, who was the only one yet to speak, as well as the only one besides the Captain capable of verifying Slice's version of events.

Wraith remained motionless. Being so much larger than them and even more extensively augmented too meant that even the other Nulls found him a bit strange. Sure, they appreciated his powers, and he was still their comrade, but there was some distance between them nonetheless.

Finally, very much in character for himself, Wraith answered monotonously with a single word "Affirmative."

All of them exchanged glances. They finally had something to work with. But some questions still remained, namely 'how was the matter with the Shadow Broker personal to the Captain, and what did it actually mean'.

"What do we do?" Slice finally asked, hoping that with this new information they could finally make a unified effort to end this uncomfortable state of affairs.

"Shadow Broker is the source of the issue." Roadkill answered, his pupils narrowed slightly with a new sense of purpose. He spoke with determination and drive. "We remove the Shadow Broker, we complete our objectives. The Captain will be pleased. Angry no longer."

The rest of them hissed approvingly. They shared Roadkill's view. Hunting down the Shadow Broker was their objective anyway, but now they had a more genuine reason to pursue it. Privately Slice also wondered if this feeling of a more direct attachment to their mission was what would be considered 'personal'. He never experienced such feelings before, certainly not back at the Mother Facility.

"Return to your quarters and await orders." Roadkill ordered, having also stood up himself. The rest of them followed suit, and were about to head for the exit when a sound of footsteps reverberated from behind the door.

All of them immediately halted and listened carefully. The feet were heavy, the steps strong and quick, very rhythmical. No other member of the crew walked like that. It was unmistakable - the Captain was coming.

And sure enough after a few seconds the sound intensified, before the door slid open with a hiss. The Captain walked in, his eyes glued to his omni-tool.

"We've got authorization for the Illium operation. I want all of yo-" He started, but upon seeing them all stood up from their seats, he cut the sentence short and observed them carefully. "What's this about?"

Slice was about to respond, but Roadkill was quicker. "We finished our assigned rations, sir. Requesting permission to return to our quarters."

He did not mention the conversation, which Slice found surprising. He expected the second-in-command to reveal what they were talking about, but he didn't. Why? Did Roadkill know something they didn't? Or perhaps he still felt guilty for his behavior on Omega?

The Captain did not immediately reply, still intensely studying them. What was that strange expression on his face? Surprise? Concern? Fear? The deviations from his normal expression were too subtle and mixed up to say for sure. He was certainly not angry like before, which was a huge relief.

"...Granted. And start preparing for our next assignment. Insertion will occur in five to seven days time, depending on conditions." He finally answered. "You'll receive mission-relevant data shortly, both on the target and the environment. I want you to study it and memorize as much as you can. But keep in mind that it'll be a stealth operation. Combat engagements only as a last resort."

Slice and his comrades straightened up and nodded in acknowledgement, before taking their leave, the piercing gaze of their commanding officer still upon them. Until a few minutes ago they only had an objective given to them by higher authority. Now it felt like they had a powerful drive to pursue it. They would succeed in their mission so that their commander could be at peace, which would in turn grant them the same.

All they had to do was wait for their deployment to Illium.

FTL

Normandy Sr-2, Deck 3, Main Battery

1002 Local Time, July 25rd, 2185 Gregorian Calendar

"Ugh..." Virox groaned heavily, waking up from a long sleep.

He usually slept standing up, usually leaning against the wall next to EDI's terminal, always sure to magnetically lock his legs to the floor. Past experience had taught him that failing to do so would more often than not lead to one finding oneself awake and on the floor - abruptly and unwillingly.

"I still can't understand how you do it." A familiar flanging voice reached his earflaps. "Sleep anywhere and in any position."

"Must have had it pretty easy in boot camp then." The carvin opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the light. "What did they have you do, wake up at noon and march around the base singing songs?"

"Only after a breakfast of desserts and a massage." Garrus answered with a chuckle and Virox couldn't help but let out one of his own.

The turian seemed to have figured out a way to get him to talk more, somehow pushing just the right buttons for Virox to speak more openly. Over time this newly formed bond of theirs started to soften up the rest of the crew. Virox noticed that the distance they usually kept between him and themselves shrank substantially compared to when he first arrived here. Most of them still viewed him with a safe level of suspicion and distrust - a sentiment he reciprocated.

"Had dreams?" Garrus asked again, having stepped away from the gun console and rested on the opposite wall. "Nightmares?"

"Some." Virox shrugged, his vision mostly clear by this point. "Just some snippets, bits and pieces of various memories. Why? Did I finally start to talk in my sleep?"

"Nope. Your tail. It spins around, ticks like a clock, only at random intervals. I noticed you tend to do that when you're nervous." The turian glanced at the cybernetic saw blade at the tip of Virox's tail.

The carvin scowled. He didn't mind Garrus taking notice of this new annoying habit - a surprise even to himself - but he also knew that a lot of the other members of the crew weren't as keen on him as the turian, and could try to use it against him. More troubling was the fact that he started developing such habits in the first place. Back in the Empire he had earned a reputation among conscripts and professionals alike to exhibit practically no distinguishing quirks, aside from an almost perpetually foul humor. It took little over two months on an alien warship for him to develop some, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"I won't pry if you don't want to talk about it." The turian said. "Still, if you'll ever need an ear, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"I hate how often this reverse psychology garbage on your part has worked on me." Virox rolled his eyes, but couldn't really force himself to be angry. "Also, really? Just you, me, EDI, Miranda and the Illusive Man? All of us listening intently and talking about our problems? I'd understand if it was just the two of us."

"Fair point." Garrus laughed, and the room fell silent.

Truth be told, Virox felt less at ease than he was letting in on. He didn't lie when he said that he dreamed of bits and snippets, but those bits and snippets were far more vivid and detailed than he'd made them out to be. And they were far more regular to be an accident.

These nightmares had little in common, aside from being a blurry mess of all the different stages of his life. Sometimes he'd see the ruined cities of Carvistorn, others its damp caves he and his comrades would use to hide. During some nights he would see glimpses of his failed attempts at civilian life. More recently he'd see Shepard, Garrus, and Seviros - the last one annoying him the most. But there was one part that always managed to make its way into the nightmare. The one demon that, from the moment it first entered his head, has lived there rent-free and indifferent to any and all attempts to evict it - the Collector.

Virox could not fully explain the feeling he had when he conjured up the image of that particular being. The moment its triangular face, its four glowing soulless eyes, its carapace-covered body appeared in his head, something inside him would snap. Like a rabid beast, chained to a wall by his conscious effort and willpower, it would lash out, gnaw and howl in a hopeless attempt to break free.

At first he thought it was just a pathological type of Rage, trying to throw him into a frenzy, but no. Virox had experienced Rage several times before, and both the prelude and the actual sensation was different. Rage was indiscriminate, unfocused, more like a survival instinct. It granted great strength and enhanced reflexes, but also compelled one to lash out at anything and everything remotely hostile. An untrained individual could even hurt their friends by accident, so mastering one's instincts in this most mentally vulnerable state was an extremely important part of training.

This sensation, however, was fundamentally different. Instead of losing focus, Virox felt the exact opposite happening. All other psychological noise, distractions, pointless thoughts seemed to disappear when he thought of the Collectors. His instincts sharpened, and he felt the urge to kill. Not survive. Kill. During a recent outing with Shepard on Sanctum he conducted an experiment, trying to imagine some of the mercenaries they were fighting as Collectors. The results were almost immediate. Time seemed to slow down, his cybernetics would move more smoothly and precisely, as if fine tuning themselves even further to his brain's commands. Every shot fired, every target hit, all would result in a sudden shot of adrenaline and pleasure. Shepard complimented his skills afterwards, which he deflected, attributing it to his training and cybernetics. Wasn't sure the Commander had bought it, but even if she had not, she did not press the matter further.

He had already learned to control this instinct, and after visiting Tuchanka he felt confident in his abilities to control it, but both its nature and very existence still bothered him. And despite their noticeable differences, Virox suspected that the line between that sensation and the Rage was far thinner and less clear than he was comfortable with. As such he preferred to keep it tightly under control, so as to not slip from one into the other by accident. Still, at the present it was more of an asset than a detriment, and if this could be replicated in other soldiers, it could provide a valuable boost to the effectiveness of the Imperial Army.

"By the way, Shepard wanted to see you today." Garrus pulled him out of his thoughts. "Came shortly after breakfast, but you were sleeping. Said she'd wait in the meeting room once you decide to head her way."

Virox huffed and rolled his eyes. "What did I do?"

"Don't know. What did you do?" The turian asked playfully, but, after seeing Virox's less than amused expression, he added "Relax, she just wanted to talk about the next deployment. Apparently she wants you to come with her."

"Should have said so from the beginning." Virox muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Garrus chuckled, having long ago gotten used to his annoyed glares.

"I'll eat you some day." Virox bit back, finally standing up properly. At this point he was thoroughly disarmed in the face of the turian's wit.

"Yeah, and puke out all of your entrails from the dextro meat."

"Sod off, Vakarian."

"And good day to you too, Ri'Kaan."

Virox left the room with a chuckle, taking a moment to stretch his arms out once the door had closed. The muscles around the implant sockets were a bit sore from the standing sleep, but nothing that would last more than a couple of hours. Feeling more awake now, he walked down the hallway and into the common area. Gardner was still working around the kitchen with his back turned towards him, but next to a stack of dirty tableware there was one plate still with food on it. Judging by the smell it was well past cold. Virox's breakfast.

He did not mind eating late, since his body was far more energy demanding than that of the other aliens. That was one of the reasons why he slept so much - to conserve energy. But even with this adjustment he was still being issued larger portions. Deciding to not let the food go to waste, he grabbed one of the used forks and started quickly gobbling up the rations. Gardner must have not heard him approach, because at the sound of him eating the Mess Sergeant flinched slightly and made a sound that something akin to a small wild animal would make rather than an adult human.

Neither of them said a word, and after the last bite, Virox placed his plate with the others, giving a silent nod of appreciation to the man before stepping away. He had long learned that when dealing with the human crew it was better to say less.

As he made his way to the elevator, his eyes were drawn to the glass windows of the Medbay and what was beyond them - namely Doctor Chakwas, performing a check-up on Tali. Virox hadn't seen the quarian since their last conversation in that very same room. Both Garrus and Shepard had urged him multiple times in the past to talk with other people and socialize, so that his image would soften up in the eyes of the still distrustful crew.

Socialize... right. Virox thought, at this point annoyed by the incessant pestering. Then again, what's the harm? It's only Tali and Chakwas, the greatest danger these two pose is that of non-consensual wing groping, and I have a remedy for that.

There was also another reason for the visit. The last time they talked the quarian was on pretty heavy sedatives. It wasn't clear if she remembered anything from his visit, and he wanted to check up on her regardless. He owed her this at the very least, considering she almost died for his selfish actions. And so, having made up his mind, he took a sharp turn left towards the Medbay.

The bulkhead opened well in advance, and for a split second Virox was blinded by the sterile white light that he hated so much. He adjusted quickly though, and his eyes wandered towards the two figures near the back of the room - one sitting at the edge of the bed and the other standing next to it.

"-has healed splendidly, and the final symptoms of the infection should subside within a day or two." He heard Doctor Chakwas speak, looking at Tali with a pleased expression. "Still, you should take the immunoboosters as before. I'm sure after your next visit you'll be good as-" She stopped, seeing as the quarian's gaze turned to the door. At the sight of the new arrival she blinked in surprise. "Virox. I did not expect to see you here. You haven't gone with Shepard in a good while now, so it can't be wounds."

"Would you believe me if I told you that I came here to 'socialize'?" The carvin responded with a question.

"Truth be told, no, but you have a habit of surprising people, so I won't count out the possibility." Chakwas smiled earnestly.

"Hi Virox." Tali also joined in. Her feet were dangling freely right above the floor.

Virox immediately noticed an oddity in her suit, one that was not there before. Around the spot where she was wounded, the suit's material was slightly different. Lighter colored and less dirty - a detail so subtle that someone less attentive or with worse eyesight wouldn't even notice it. The fact that the suit was once again whole and had no visible damage suggested that the recovery process was near its end. It wasn't possible to discern much else, whether by sight or smell, as the air inside the room stung Virox's nostrils with the stench of antiseptic.

"You're doing alright. Glad to see it." He said, sending a nod of gratitude towards Doctor Chakwas, to which she responded with a smile.

"You mean that suit rupture?" Tali asked, looking at where the wound used to be. "I've seen worse, really. Back when Shepard was hunting Saren was way worse. I almost died from poisoning. Polonium rounds. And even after I joined in with the original Normandy I've had to patch myself up regularly from minor suit breaches, so really it was nothing."

Her voice betrayed small hints of forced reassurance, and Virox wasn't surprised by this. From all the articles he had read about them he knew that quarian lives were virtually completely dependent on their suits. Any breach or rupture could be fatal or cause permanent damage, and it was often down to luck how things turned out.

"Don't need to act tough in front of me. Remember, I got you into this state in the first place." He pointed out.

"Yeah, Doctor Chakwas told me you've been worried for my health for days." Tali answered with a giggle. "Have to admit, it's cute how you'd care about anyone else besides yourself and Shepard."

Ignoring the pretty overt jab at his presumed self-centeredness, Virox looked at the Doctor, drilling through her entire being with an irritated glare. "You told her."

"Don't look at me like that. She could hardly remember your visit. You finally started to open up to others." Chakwas tried so hard to force an apologetic tone, but Virox could hear amusement hidden within it. "And since Tali was the target of this newfound affection, it seemed fair that she know about the Prince Charming that held her condition in such importance."

It took Virox a moment to absorb both the words and the implied message, but once he did he felt even more lost. He tried to reply, yet each time the words seemed to halt right at the edge of his throat, refusing to move forward seemingly by the shock and surprise of the Doctor's statement. He did not know if Chakwas, who was prone to jests when in his presence, was joking again. If so, to what end she did so remained a mystery. Finally, though, he managed to regain his composure.

"Okay, first of all, I don't fancy aliens. Gross. This is strictly concern born of respect and gratitude." He said with an annoyed scowl. "Second of all, even if I did, the age difference would make this sort of relationship at best inappropriate back home. Third-" He stopped when Tali turned away in visible discomfort and Doctor Chakwas' smile disappeared. "What did I say this time?"

"Virox... there are certain things that you simply should not say to a girl. Calling them 'gross', even indirectly is one of them." Chakwas explained after a short, uncomfortable moment of silence. "I do not really know anything about carvin social or courtship interactions, but in most of cultures wording like this would be considered offensive."

As if I would know. Though civvies back home would have probably agreed with her. Virox thought, being reminded yet again of his freakishness. He was raised by and alongside soldiers. Foul-mouthed, rude and to-the-point they were, and all of them with little to no appreciation for decorum. At times he wondered if his continuing problems with understanding the aliens really came from cultural differences or if his upbringing (if one could call it that) was the reason. Probably a combination of the two.

"I admit, I take partial responsibility for steering the conversation onto this topic, but please try to be more considerate in the future." The Doctor added, having noticed that Virox's own expression soured too.

"I understand." He answered truthfully, then looked at Tali twiddling her thumbs on the Medbay bed. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. I can sympathize with... you know, having trouble fitting in." The quarian tried to sound unfazed, almost brushing his words off with a laugh, but he saw right through it. And at that moment he understood that the 'gross' part wasn't the real issue.

Over these two months he saw Garrus trying to break the barrier he had set up around himself and simply be a friend. Virox resisted at first, but the turian was persistent and unrelenting in his attempts, which bore fruit. Perhaps Tali, being a long time friend of the turian, had the intention of doing the same. After all, their first encounters were less hostile than with the rest of the crew. He helped to save her on Haestrom, and she in turn fixed his damaged arm. But Virox, without realizing it, drew the line of their relationship at 'respect and gratitude', pushing her away as he had done with everyone else in his life. How could he be so blind?

Damn it all to a thousand Voids! He cursed himself for his ignorance. Seeing the disapproving expression of the human doctor and the clearly uncomfortable quarian, he felt like an intruder. Not for the first time, but now, unlike back then, he felt compelled to make himself scarce. That way he would avoid making more of an ass of himself.

"Well then. I have to go, Shepard wanted to see me about something." He made a half-turn towards the bulkhead, but looked back at the last second. "If you need me for anything, just let me know through EDI."

And with that he left the insufferable brightness of the Medbay behind him. But even though the stinging white light was gone, something else remained - an annoying, painful stinging of sort, pulsating regularly at the very base of his neck. A deeply unpleasant sensation.

Usually pain was something that would agitate a carvin. It tended to immediately boost adrenaline levels, sharpen senses and cause excitement. One of the reasons self-harm could work on some carvins like a drug. This feeling was the opposite. It felt more like mental self-flagellation of pure discomfort, as even though the pain itself felt real, none of the usual physiological responses that made it more bearable would manifest. Carvins were biologically incapable of crying - their eyes would always moisturize themselves at a steady rate - but if Virox had to think of an equivalent, it would be that. So much for socializing.

With his mind still completely wrapped around this most recent screw-up, he lost track of time, and came back to his senses only once he stood in front of the bulkhead leading to the meeting room. The other parts of the journey - the elevator ride, passing through the CIC, hearing Mordin saying something to him in the lab - all seemed like a blurry mess. He could judge by the faint smell that Shepard was already inside, and so, after taking a deep breath and clearing his mind of any and all distracting thoughts, he walked in.

Indeed, the Commander was waiting for him, leaning on the edge of the table that took up the majority of space inside the room. Her arms were crossed on her chest and her right leg was rhythmically bouncing up and down, seemingly out of habit or boredom. Virox wasn't exactly used to this sort of casual demeanor from a superior officer and he still struggled to determine which parts of the Commander's behavior were born out of personal quirks and which out of human culture.

"Shepard. You wanted to see me." He said, straightening his posture.

"I did. Figured it's been a while since Sanctum, and I don't want you collecting dust." She looked up at him and pushed herself off the edge of the table." We're making a quick stop on Illium. You've never been there, have you?"

"Can't say I have." Virox answered truthfully, although, knowing where this was likely going, he felt a bit uneasy. Still he did not add anything yet.

"Come to think of it, I don't believe you've been to any of the big and famous places in Citadel Space. I'll have to show you the Presidium someday." Shepard continued, seemingly thinking out loud more than anything else.

Assuming they'd even let me in. Virox thought, being well aware of the level of distrust other races felt towards his people.

"We'll drop by Liara. She's an old friend, back from before I... well, died. Garrus must have mentioned her." The Commander quickly realized she got side-tracked and promptly returned to the topic at hand. "It shouldn't be a long stay, hopefully we'll be off-world within a day, doing something more exciting."

Virox nodded silently in understanding. Vakarian did indeed mention Liara T'Soni before, usually followed by laments that she did not join the crew of the new Normandy. But that was not what the carvin was most concerned about. For all his difficulties with socializing, Virox made sure to study up on the aliens and their culture, as well as some recent events, whenever he had the time. And after reading some headlines and articles regarding the rather tense situation on the frontiers of both sides, visiting a planet arguably most affected by this tension did not seem like a good idea at all. The fact that he also acted like a complete asshole towards Tali just a few minutes earlier did not help his case either.

"I... have some reservations about this plan." He said with a great degree of caution.

Within the carvin military culture it wasn't exactly forbidden to question superiors, but the line between what was considered acceptable criticism and insubordination was thin and very blurry, especially when the addressee was widely considered to be capable. There was also the underlying message hidden in such remarks: that of distrust in the superior's judgement.

Still, Shepard did not seem to mind it at all, as she calmly said "Go ahead."

Virox took a deep breath. He respected the Commander greatly, and even though he suspected she wouldn't mind hearing what he had to say, old cultural habits were still strong. "Forces of the Imperial Navy are blockading almost all trade routes into Illium. From what I managed to piece out, tensions are high on the borders with Terminus Systems, and will probably continue to be until the conference that has been going on is concluded. Simply put I doubt I'd be welcome there, assuming they'd even let me in."

A brief moment of silence followed, as Shepard looked at him in a peculiar manner. She did not look displeased, which was what Virox feared would happen. Instead her eyes began to slowly move left and right, seemingly in deep thought. For a moment Virox felt regret at his remark: he should have stayed silent and just bear with it. But then the Commander let out a sigh and once again leaned on the edge of the table.

"I'll make sure they let you through. Didn't have my Spectre status reinstated only for me to not use the perks. You just stay close and things will be fine." She said reassuringly. "However... if you have specific orders or instructions to avoid such places, or anything like that, let me know. Wouldn't want to bring unnecessary heat upon you from your superiors."

It was this. This tendency to put the well-being of individual subordinates equal to or above the main objective was something that Virox both admired and felt uncomfortable with. On the one hand he felt relieved and glad that his own concerns were being openly acknowledged and addressed. But on the other hand, having served in the military most of his life and having trained a respectable number of soldiers himself, this approach clashed with his own experience. An individual soldier was but a redundant and easily replaceable cog within the larger war machine. Their concerns, unless absolutely mission-critical, were secondary or often even tertiary. When Virox's own experience and worldview was met with Shepard's, it felt like one of them suddenly seemed to ring hollow. He just wasn't sure which one it was.

Nevertheless, the instinct of obedience superseded whatever conflict was happening in his head. He straightened out his posture and answered "No need. I think I'll manage just fine. Just let me know of what I should and shouldn't do once we land."

Shepard's unsure expression lightened up with a smile. Safe to say this was the response she was hoping for. "Understood. For now just be prepared for the views. Illium is famous for its splendor and glamour, and that fame is most certainly well-deserved."

A/N: Well, this is awkward. I know I left a note stating 'I don't know when the next chapter will be done', but honestly I didn't expect it to take this long. I won't lie - I still don't feel anywhere close to what would be considered psychologically 'healthy'. However, I do have a rough outline of future chapters. This one is basically a set-up for the Lair of the Shadow Broker arc, and there will be perhaps 3 or 4 chapters dedicated to that arc. Once it's finished, I think I'll drop a CODEX-style chapter in and we will slowly start moving towards the Endgame of Mass Effect 2. No ETA on the next chapter, but hopefully it shouldn't take a quarter of a year this time. Thanks to everyone still sticking around in spite of the wait, as well as to all the new followers.