CHAPTER 19

The Turian

After over twelve long hours of no contact, Wrex had sent Urdnot Grunt along with a small unit of scouts to see what was taking Garim and his team so long.

He found them.

Not in the condition he knew Wrex was hoping for, but Grunt found them nonetheless.

With a burning fury growing deep within him, Urdnot Grunt stared down with both anger and disgust at the dead krogan splayed out before him.

Garim's head, looking like it had been caved in from a savage blow to his face, was a bloody mess. The brash krogan had always been a pain in the ass. One that Wrex had to put in his place every now and then. But despite all the trouble the Garim usually caused, he was a capable warrior, and seeing his mutilated body filled Grunt with a quiet rage.

Turk was found just down the road from Garim, lying face first in a pool of his own blood behind a pile of semi-melted rubble. Dom was lying still on his back in the middle of the street, with a bloody, gaping hole in his neck. His young, green eyes were fixed open, forever staring up into the blue, earth sky. As for Renk… they only managed to find pieces of him.

Curiously, the human driver, along with his truck and their payload, were nowhere to be found.

"Haven't seen wounds like this in awhile," came a gruff voice from beside Grunt.

Urdnot Gen, one of the other scouts that had accompanied him, was kneeling on the ground busily scanning Garim with his omni-tool. "Whole head smashed in, obviously… Tendons in both arms and legs severed… Can't find any bullet holes. What the hell kind of scavenger fights like this?" he asked, looking up to his glowering companion.

"A dead one…" Grunt answered in a low and ominous growl.

Grunt turned away from Gen and slowly started pacing up and down the street, craning his large head side to side to better take in his surroundings. The whole street and neighborhood was a wreck. He doubted he could glean much information from the ruined buildings. The devastation from the Reaper's invasion made sure of that. But there were a few things he noticed that didn't seem to fit.

He looked to the bodies of the fallen krogan.

They were all facing different directions when they died. Attackers came from multiple sides.

He looked to the young Dom in the middle of the street, noticing that both of his hands were bloodied and empty.

Didn't draw his gun… ambush.

Grunt tilted his head up to look at the building facing Dom. The front facade of the third floor was gone. What was left of it was covered in dust and dark soot from explosives, along with a small collection of bullet holes focused around the remains of one window in particular. No other floor had such damage.

A sniper. He shot Dom and they shot back.

Grunt turned and walked over to the area where Turk and Renk were found. He flared his nostrils as he approached, smelling the very faint, yet familiar scent of ozone coming from the semi melted ruble.

Plasma damage… Geth weapons?

He moved past the rubble to stare down at Turk's body. Out of all the wounds so far, Turk's was the most bizarre. There was hardly a scratch on him, save for a single slit in his broad, heavily armored back. With his foot, Grunt pushed hard against Turk's broad shoulder and flipped him onto his back. As Grunt had suspected, staring him in the face was a matching slit on the dead krogan's chest.

Grunt scowled as he studied the wound, fully understanding just by looking at the angle, that both of the large krogans' hearts had been pierced with a single, well placed strike.

"Scavengers are getting ballsy attacking us like this," grumbled Gen, who had sidled up to stand alongside Grunt.

"These weren't scavengers…" hissed Grunt.

"Not scavengers?" Gen balked, tilting his head at him. "They took the weapons, and ran off with the truck. Who else could it have been?"

"See that?" he said, pointing to the melted pile of rubble. "Those are plasma burns. That means geth weapons."

Gen did a double take as he studied the melted stone. "The… geth killed our men?" he asked, trying to hide a small hint of growing fear in his voice.

"The geth are dead, idiot," scolded Grunt. "Someone's using their tech. You think anyone around here knows how to use geth weapons?"

Gen shrugged innocently. "...Quarians maybe? They know geth stuff."

Grunt scowled at him incredulously, wondering why he was even trying to explain it to his frustratingly clueless companion.

"Well… who do you think did it?" asked Gen.

"Not sure. This all feels wrong. It smells wrong," Grunt answered quietly. "It's too… clean."

Grunt looked to the pavement behind them, noticing that it was stained with distinctive black skid marks from speeding tires. The dark marks went down the street, ending abruptly only a few dozen meters away.

"Any sign of where the driver and truck went?" asked Grunt.

Gen shook his head. "Truck's gone. Its locator beacon is off, so it could be anywhere. Found some human blood down the street that looked fresh. Could be his, but there's no sign of a body."

Grunt grumbled angrily as he took to pacing slowly around Turk's body, working to piece together what happened and why. A myriad of possibilities went through his mind, but before he could settle on any one of them, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. There was a faint mark on the ground. He hardly noticed it at first, but as he drew closer it became more and more apparent.

A… footprint?

The tread pattern of a human combat boot was unmistakable. On the pavement not far from Turks body, was a singular, bloody footprint. Not far from it, Grunt saw another, and then another.

Grunt grinned wickedly to himself as he followed the bloody tracks. It seems one of their killers had become careless and stepped in Turk's blood, creating a short trail that lead toward the heart of the human city.

"Get Wrex on the comms," he barked to Gen. "Tell him we found Garim's team. And a trail…"

"Entering Earth's atmosphere now. ETA to the landing zone: 5 minutes."

Garrus' tired eyes sprang open at the intrusive sound of the pilot's voice chiming through the shuttle comms, along with that uncomfortable feeling of vertigo one gets during a rough re-entry.

He yawned groggily as he straightened himself back up, somewhat disappointed his short nap couldn't have lasted just a little bit longer. Rolling his neck from side to side, Garrus worked to loosen the muscles that had stiffened while he slept.

Despite being back amongst his fellow turians, complete with access to a fresh variety of dextro safe food and comfortably ergonomic beds, Garrus had been afforded little in the way of rest.

Primarch Victus had wasted no time putting him to work since his return. For the last few days and nights, Garrus had been busy aboard the Primarch's flagship, the PFS Endurance, coordinating resources for the Turian's search and rescue efforts across both Earth and the Citadel. Even when compared to physically repairing the Normandy, it was taxing work. But Garrus wasn't one to complain, and he would gladly help wherever he was needed.

And now it seemed he was needed at the krogan camp on Earth.

In a rather short message, Wrex had told Victus that his men needed some help organizing their logistical operations, and that with his experience, Garrus would be perfect for the job. It was a simple, earnest request, but both Garrus and Victus suspected otherwise. The krogan weren't exactly keen on asking the Turians for help, especially for something as mundane as organizational support, but Victus didn't see the harm in granting Wrex' request. Especially when they would still need each other to rebuild.

Once he was satisfied that he had stretched enough, Garru decided to pass the remaining time by clicking on his omni-tool and combing through his messages.

Most of them ended up being current status reports from the various SAR teams he had been tasked with overseeing. To his relief, many of them were positive. Survivors were being found, and they were eager to be rescued. However, the unfortunate downside of finding more people meant that the SAR teams needed more resources. Resources that were becoming more and more strained almost every day.

A problem he knew would have to be addressed soon considering their present circumstances. He was generally optimistic, but not enough to think it was something that could be solved before any hard choices would have to be made.

He glanced through his messages one last time, looking to see if there was anything urgent he needed to address, and when he saw that there wasn't, he clicked off his omni-tool, sank back into a comfortable position in his seat, and closed his eyes hoping to squeeze in just a few more minutes of sleep.

But a sudden jolt from the shuttles landing thrusters quickly ended that hope, and after several bumpy seconds, the shuttle finally touched down on the landing platform. Garrus sighed as he begrudgingly stood up from his comfortable spot, walked over to one of the shuttles main storage compartments and pulled it open. Waiting for him inside was a large bag filled with supplies he figured he would need: food, clothing, weapon repair kits, etc, along with his favorite rifle.

He had no real intention of using the rifle, but he figured that at least during his downtime he could work on making some modifications to it that he had been thinking about. The rifle had served him well during the Battle of London, however, in Garrus' mind, when it came to weapons, there was always room for improvement.

Stashing his rifle neatly on his back and pulling his bag of provisions from the compartment, Garrus opened the wide shuttle door and was immediately greeted with a gust of fresh air. The cool breeze felt pleasant on his face and neck, and he smiled inhaling the crisp, earth air.

Despite the comforting feeling of fresh oxygen, Garrus' mandibles twitched in disappointment as he looked up to the sky. The sun, which he knew to be bright, yellow, and warm, was hidden behind a seemingly endless blanket of gray and dark clouds. And beneath that foreboding sea of overcast clouds, was the broken and ruined city of London.

He frowned, taking in the sheer devastation. Before the war, Garrus had only seen pictures or vids of the once great human city. He never had the chance to visit the human homeworld, and now he could only see what was left of it after the Reaper's ruthless invasion.

His thoughts turned to Palaven and the destruction that was doubtlessly waiting for him there. He silently wondered if either planet would ever regain their beauty from before the war. That if the scars left by the Reapers would ever truly fade.

"You Garrus Vakarian?" came a gravelly voice from behind him.

Garrus turned his attention away from the ruined city and saw a krogan in dark battle armor hastily stomping up to him from the other side of the landing pad. Garrus recognized the color of the armor. One of the members of Clan Urdnot.

There was an intensity in the krogan's green eyes as he stood waiting for his answer. Even with his weapon holstered on his broad back, the krogan looked no less dangerous.

Garrus nodded. "I am," he said, making sure to keep his own eyes locked squarely on the krogan's.

The krogan continued to stare for a moment, almost like he wasn't sure he believed him.

"Good," he finally answered. "The chieftain's waiting for you. This way." The imposing krogan tilted his head toward the encampment, motioning for him to follow.

The krogan spun on his heel and took off down the ramp, not bothering to look back to see if his turian charge was following. Slinging his heavy bag over his shoulder, Garrus quickly locked step to match pace with the lumbering krogan. He picked his head up as he walked, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest to make himself seem more intimidating. Strength was not only a virtue in krogan society, it was practically law, and he had no intention of appearing weak in a camp full of rowdy krogan soldiers.

He saw that the krogan were quick to make themselves at home in the ruined city. The encampment was nestled comfortably on the outskirts of London, with the krogan making use of several of the ruined buildings as makeshift barracks, along with a large open courtyard that worked as a staging area for their many shuttles and ground vehicles.

The smell of burning meat wafted gently in the air, and before long he spotted several crude fire pits in the alleyways between buildings, where several hungry krogan were attempting to roast some dinner. Garrus wasn't able to make out what kind of animals they were. He figured they were probably varren, but the size of the carcasses made him wonder if perhaps the krogan were experimenting with the local wildlife instead.

Garrus couldn't help but notice that only a few of the krogan were giving him dirty looks as he passed. The ones that weren't busy setting up habitation units or repairing weapons and vehicles, usually only gave him a curious glance. Astonishingly, some even nodded at him in a subtle form of greeting.

Garrus was pleasantly surprised. He was used to catching hateful looks from krogan due to the two races' bloody history. But it seemed the events of Reaper war, with the curing of the genophage and subsequent alliance with the turians, may have had a positive effect on krogan mentality. He figured there was still too much bad blood between the two races for them to become friends overnight; krogan had long lives and even longer memories; but he was happy to see that progress was at least being made.

The two continued on for a time before finally coming up to a freshly built habitation unit. Wrex' command center he figured judging by the two similarly armored krogan standing guard out front. The guards quickly moved aside for Garrus' guide without a second thought, but their eyes lingered on the turian and the folded rifle mounted to his back. They both gave him a hard look as he approached, wordlessly letting him know that they wouldn't hesitate to crush him if he tried anything funny.

Garrus ignored their threatening looks and casually pushed past them, letting them know in return how little their threats meant to him.

The door to the habitation unit opened instantly, and the two of them stepped into a spacious yet dimly lit command center. What few amenities it had were strategically spaced around the room, easily allowing for a large group of fully armored krogan to gather. Adorning several walls were flags bearing the different clan symbols that made up the united krogan nation. Each was placed equally apart on the wall without one being above the other, save for the Clan Urdnot flag, which Garrus noticed was sitting just a tiny bit higher than all the others.

Crudely bolted to one of the walls adjacent to the flags was a collection of grisly trophies. Wicked claws, misshapen limbs, and even a few monstrous heads from the more terrifying Reaper aberrations were set up in a gruesome display of victory. Garrus grimaced as he studied some of them. While he understood the appeal of showing off prizes from a hard fought victory, he couldn't get past the knowledge that those limbs belonged not to the Reapers, but their innocent victims. A fact he figured the krogan either didn't fully consider, or quite possibly didn't really care about.

Garrus' eyes were soon drawn to the middle of the room, where a krogan wearing deep crimson armor was leaning against a holo-table, diligently studying a bright holographic map floating inches in front of his face.

"I brought the turian, boss," grumbled Garrus' escort.

The krogan immediately turned his head just enough to get a look at him, allowing Garrus to see the familiar scars and red hued crest of his old friend.

"Garrus!" boomed Wrex, his red eyes instantly brightening as he pushed away from the table and stomped toward him.

"Wrex," Garrus beamed, reaching out a hand to the venerable Krogan. The two clasped each other's forearms and squeezed tightly, with Wrex grinning as he tightened his grip, quietly hoping to see if he could make the turian squirm.

Garrus felt the pressure acutely, but stubbornly refused to show any sign of it. Instead he simply returned the gesture and squeezed the krogan's massive forearm as hard as he could. Wrex chuckled at the attempt.

Mercifully loosening his grip on the turian, he brought up his other hand, and delivered a firm yet welcoming pat on Garrus' shoulder, staggering him slightly and eliciting another laugh from the krogan.

"Bout time you got here, Vakarian. I was beginning to wonder if Victus had changed his mind about letting you off your leash."

"You think the turians would pass up a chance to show the krogan how to get things done?" asked Garrus, smirking playfully as he straightened himself back up from Wrex' forceful welcome.

Wrex let out a throaty laugh, but Garrus was sure he heard an unamused grumble coming from the krogan that led him here. Wrex noticed it too and rolled his eyes at the humorless soldier.

"You can go, Corr," he said, waving him off. "See if you can scrounge us up some food. And none of the crap from last night. Don't know what the hell that thing was Doren cooked up yesterday, but it definitely wasn't food. Oh, and see if we still got any of those turian rations left over. I'm sure our friend here could use a bite."

"Thanks, but I brought my own," said Garrus, gesturing to the bag slung over his shoulder.

Corr shrugged indifferently at Garrus and quickly made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of them alone in the empty command center.

Wrex shook his head. "Hope he didn't treat you too badly. Corr's never been fond of turians."

"Could've fooled me," joked Garrus, swinging his heavy bag from off his shoulder and dropping it to the ground beside the nearby wall. "He and your guards seem a bit on edge. They expecting trouble?"

"You could say that," grumbled Wrex. "Come on. Now that you're finally here, I've got something for you."

Wrex turned and made his way to a couple of large crates at the far side of the room. Garrus' curiosity was officially piqued, and he raised a suspicious eyebrow at the krogan as he followed him. Wrex dug into one of the crates, and after making a couple of loud clinking sounds, produced two bottles of liquor along with a few metal cups.

Motioning for Garrus to join him, Wrex set down by the holo-table and slid one of the empty cups across the display and over to Garrus' waiting hand.

"A celebratory drink is in order!" he bellowed, twisting off the cap of his liquor bottle and filling his cup with a pungent green liquid, which judging by its powerful smell, Garrus guessed was ryncol.

"Had to make a few trades to get this," said Wrex, picking up the other bottle and examining it. "It's safe for turians… so I've been told. Thought Victus might want some, but he keeps making excuses. Here, try it!"

Wrex gingerly tossed the bottle over the table. Carefully catching it with his other hand, Garrus examined it closely, trying to discern if it really was safe to drink. The label had been roughly scratched off, and the bottle had some signs of wear and tear, but it was the color of the liquor that was the most curious aspect. It was a slight reddish hue that seemed to shift into a purply pink if he held it over light. After a few seconds of turning it over, he finally remembered where he had seen this liquor before.

"Horosk? You bartered for a bottle of horosk?" he asked in amazement. "Who traded it to you?"

Wrex shrugged. "Some batarian mechanic from the Omega fleet. Needed some parts for the tomkahs and I noticed he had a stash of this stuff in his workshop. Had to give him a few boxes of varren meat for it, but I figured it was worth it."

With care, Garrus twisted off the cap and poured some of the liquor into his waiting cup. The smell of it immediately hit him, and he began to wonder if this was a good idea. Horosk had a reputation for being a strong drink. Strong enough even to put a few of its unlucky drinkers into a coma. But Garrus didn't want to be rude to his generous friend, so he figured he would try at least a taste of it and hope for the best.

"To saving the universe from giant monsters!" Wrex cheered, holding up his cup to Garrus.

Garrus smiled and tapped Wrex' cup with his own, making a small clinking sound. "To cheating death one more time," he added. The two immediately brought their drinks to their lips, with Garrus only taking a small sip while Wrex knocked the whole thing back.

Garrus grimaced a bit as he drank it, but while it was still intensely strong, the flavor wasn't as bad as he feared it would be. Wrex slammed his cup back down to the table and immediately let out a satisfied sigh.

"I needed that," grinned Wrex, picking up his ryncol and pouring himself another round. "So how've you been Garrus? Heard Victus put you on desk duty."

"For now," said Garrus. "He needed someone to help manage a few search and rescue teams. Guess it could be worse, all things considered. After everything that happened in London, it's been nice to be able to sit down for a while and not worry about anything shooting you."

"That doesn't sound like you," accused Wrex, eyeing him suspiciously and searching for any injury he may not have noticed on Garrus in the dim light. "You don't look too worse for wear. Heard you made it all the way to the beam. Hell, that must've been fun."

Garrus' mandibles twitched faintly as he thought back to the battle, vividly remembering the reaper attack and his forced retreat not long after.

"Not as much fun as I would've liked…" he admitted quietly. "Didn't quite make it to the beam, actually. Had to fall back at the last second."

Wrex' smile eased as he saw Garrus' expression sour. "Yeah… Heard about that too. How's she doing?"

Garrus frowned, understanding who he was referring to. "Tali's injuries have healed up just fine from what I can tell. But to be perfectly honest… I'm still a bit worried about her."

"Eh, she'll be fine," Wrex said, dismissively. "That quarian's made of tougher stuff than you'd think."

"I know. It's just… she's been struggling with a few things since the battle. And seeing Shepard in the state that he's in… Well, that was jarring even for me. Can only imagine how she feels."

"He's that banged up, huh?"

"It's bad. Doubt he'll be back on his feet anytime soon, that's for sure."

"At least he's alive," Wrex said, optimistically. "That's better than dead. She'll come around. You'll see."

"Yeah, you're right." Garrus said quietly before reaching for his cup as the conversation brought a new idea into his head.

"To the Commander's recovery," he said, raising his cup again in the air.

The krogan smiled mirthfully and raised his in return. "May it be as fast as a krogan's!" he boomed proudly before knocking his drink back again.

Garrus took another small sip of the horosk before setting his cup back down on the holo-table. He studied the holographic image that was floating in the air above, noticing that it looked like Wrex had been surveying a map of London. Garrus' thoughts immediately went back to wondering why he was even here in the first place.

"Be honest with me, Wrex. Why did you ask for me to come here? It can't be for logistics. If it were, you would've asked for a salarian."

"I've already got five doing just that," Wrex admitted with a hearty laugh. "That's what I like about you Garrus. Always able to see through other people's crap."

"So why the lies? What's this all about?"

Wrex' playful grin disappeared and Garrus noticed a sudden seriousness in the krogan's gaze that he didn't quite expect. "I've got a bit of a… problem… that I could use your help with."

Garrus smirked playfully while casting Wrex a suspicious look. "Look, if this involves some kind of romantic trouble between you and Bakara, I'm gonna tell you right now. I can't help you."

"I'm serious," Wrex growled. "A few days ago, I sent several teams into London to go pick up some ordnance. One never came back. I sent some scouts to figure out what was up, and they found 'em… Dead."

"Dead?" Garrus asked, dropping all levity. "You mean they were killed?"

Wrex slowly nodded. "At first I thought maybe some scavengers got 'em. But their wounds weren't… normal."

"Define not normal."

"How about I show you instead," Wrex offered, tapping in a few commands into the control panel of the holo-table. The holographic map of London immediately faded, and was swiftly replaced by a collection of gruesome pictures. Pictures of several dead krogan.

One was laying on its back with a single gaping wound in its neck. A high caliber sniper round Garrus guessed, judging from the size of the wound. Another had its head caved in, along with several deep cuts that nearly severed its elbows and knees. A third was lying on its face to the ground. The only thing that Garrus noticed about that one was a single slit on its armored back. The fourth was just a collection of smoldering body parts.

"See anything normal?" asked Wrex, narrowing his eyes at the turian.

Garrus didn't answer. He was still studying the pictures. Out of all the bodies, the third one was the strangest. It was the largest of the dead krogan by far, but it had suffered the least amount of visible damage.

"What happened to this one?" he asked, pointing to the third picture hovering in front of him.

Wrex tapped another command and zoomed in, bringing up several body scans along with it. "Both of his hearts were pierced… With a sword."

The krogan's words immediately stole Garrus' attention away from the display. "A sword?"

"Who do we know that likes to use swords?" Wrex asked rhetorically.

"Cerberus…" he answered, almost not believing the word coming out of his mouth. Memories of the pro-human paramilitary group instantly flooded Garrus' mind. Cerberus had committed untold atrocities against both aliens and humans alike. All in the name of human survival, or more appropriately, human dominance. He had hoped the organization had been destroyed and gone with the death of the Illusive man. A foolish idea in hindsight, he now believed.

"Uh huh," said Wrex. "Best part is, bastards took all the ordnance my men had gathered. A whole truckload of Thanix missiles."

Garrus' mandibles twitched. "Have you told Hackett?"

"No. I'm not telling him a thing."

Garrus stared at him incredulously. "Why the hell not!? If Cerberus is operating on Earth and in possession of powerful explosives, then he needs to know."

"Don't you think I know that?" barked Wrex. "The reason I haven't is because I'm not so sure his men are who they say they are. My team had a human guide driving them through the city. He knew all the locations of the ordnance, and based on what we found, they got ambushed at the last missile on their list."

"Have you been able to locate the driver?" asked Garrus.

Wrex shook his head. "No. He and the truck are long gone. Its tracking beacon is disabled too. All I know is, he got the coordinates of those bombs from someone in the alliance, took my boys out to go get 'em, and disappeared."

Garrus thought hard for a moment, wondering if perhaps Wrex was looking too much into it. That maybe these were simple scavengers who just got lucky? Perhaps the human driver simply fled? But if that were the case, why did he not report in? Or turn his tracking beacon on?

His mind kept going back to the sword wound. It just couldn't be a coincidence. Cerberus phantoms were fast, agile, and most important of all, skilled with monomolecular blades. He doubted any random scavenger would know how to properly use one, or be intimately familiar with krogan anatomy well enough to kill a large one with a single strike.

"We could tell Victus," Garrus offered. "At least that way we can have someone on alert for potential Cerberus attacks."

Wrex shook his head and grumbled. "Victus and Hackett talk too much. He'd tell him as soon as he could. Besides, I want these Cerberus assholes to think everything is normal. If they see the turians and the humans mobilizing for an attack, it might tip 'em off. They'll run before I get a chance to find them."

Garrus let out a frustrated sigh. "If you're so intent on keeping this to yourself, then why involve me? What do you need me for?"

Wrex' lips slowly curled into a wicked smile. "My scouts found a trail…"

"A trail?"

"Yeah. One of the bastards took a step in my men's blood. They left a short trail that leads deeper into the city. It doesn't go far, but at least I know they are still somewhere in London."

"That's a pretty wild guess, Wrex. What makes you so certain they are still in the city?"

"Just call it a hunch," Wrex shrugged. "If they are still in the city, I'm gonna go find 'em. That's why I need you, Garrus."

"You've got a whole army of krogan at your command," he responded almost indignantly. "If you're so sure you know where they are, just send them in."

"I would, but an army of krogan isn't exactly subtle. They'd hear us coming long before we found them. A small team is our best bet, and I need someone who can track. Someone with a keen eye, and is a good shot too. That's where you come in. So whaddya say, Garrus?" asked Wrex, smiling innocently while opening his arms out wide. "Will you go into a ruined city and help an old friend find and kill some dangerous assassins?"

Garrus rolled his eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but Wrex' plan intrigued him, and while he had found himself enjoying his peaceful stint aboard the Endurance, Garrus wasn't sure he could pass up the opportunity to go on a dangerous mission. The mere thought of it energized him, and the exhaustion he had been battling the last few days disappeared in an instant.

While Garrus understood this was probably reckless and just plain foolish, the excitement and mystery inevitably won out in Garrus' mind, and he finally relented. "Fine, I'll help you, Wrex."

Wrex laughed victoriously and slapped the turian hard on the shoulder, knocking him off balance again. "That's the turian I know! Never one to turn down a suicide mission!"

"On one condition though," Garrus declared, giving Wrex a stern look. "If we can't find any trace of them in 24 hours, I'm alerting Hackett and Victus. Understood?"

Wrex smirked. "Hell, I'll tell them myself if that happens. Now c'mon. Grab your gear and get ready. I'll get a tomkah up and running for us to meet my scouts at the ambush site."

Somewhat surprised with himself for even agreeing to doing this, Garrus picked up his bag from by the wall and followed Wrex toward the exit of the command center. As he walked, he busily wondered to himself just how they were ever supposed to find their target in such a large city with so many possible places to hide. Calling it a needle in a haystack was putting it mildly. But as he thought, a sudden idea krept into his head of a potent resource that may be able to help them. Something that he knew could read even the most minute details from the environment.

Just before Wrex crossed the threshold, Garrus reached out to him. "Wait! Can you reach the Normandy with that thing?" he asked, gesturing to the holo-table.

"Yeah. Why?" asked Wrex, raising a curious eyebrow at the turian.

"Because," answered Garrus with a smirk. "I know someone who might be able to help us."

That is… if he's even willing.