Osiris

Jack had grown quite fond of her little cubby hole on the engineering deck of the Normandy that she had converted into her own private living quarters. She loved the sound of the ship’s systems thrumming and hissing around her. Despite the knowledge that she was surrounded by pipes pumping thousands of litres of highly explosive materials, she couldn’t help but love feeling the strength of the ship around her, the power. It was intoxicating, so much raw energy around her made her feel more powerful, as if it was infecting her. She also liked the fact that nobody seemed to be too eager to bother her down here. Apart from one or two crewmembers that she had invited down to blow off some steam from time to time, she had the area to herself twenty-four seven. Well, except for Shepard’s visits, she came down to Jack’s quarters constantly: checking up on her, talking about “feelings” and “friendship” and all that sentimental crap, never for the good stuff.

And damn, Jack thought, I really want the good stuff from her.

Shepard had that perfect combination of sass and sweetness: that sanctimonious crusader for justice that made Jack want to fuck her senseless, and the bad-ass bitch soldier inside to make it all different kinds of fun.

But alas, Jack had never been able to get under her skin (or her clothes) in that way. She knew that Shepard had swung that way in the past, but that was with an asari ... a hot asari scientist. EVERYONE swings that way. Unfortunately she had never shown that sort of interest towards Jack which of course made Jack want her all the more at first, but she eventually got used to it. By the time they had hit the Collector base, Jack had more or less accepted the fact that she would probably never get the chance to get in Shepard’s pants ... well, she would never say “never”, there was always alcohol to try. She was even starting to enjoy her little routine visits.

Shit, Jack thought, I’m going soft.

It was true. After the Collector base Jack no longer had a reason to stay on the Normandy: her deal with Shepard was done and after nuking the biotic training facility on Pragia she had no further use for Cerberus. Still, she found herself convincing herself to stick around, she felt comfortable here. Hell, she might even go so far as to call one or two of the crew her friends, including Shepard.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the intercom speakers hiss to life before Tali’s voice rang throughout the small space.

“Jack,” the Quarians voice echoed “It’s your shift with the prisoner.”

This brought a smile to Jack’s face. She had been waiting to get some time alone with Saren; the turian intrigued her. She could understand Garrus being trigger-happy around him; that man was wound up so tight he could eat nails and shit corkscrews. Everyone on the ship had heard what he and the crew of the first Normandy had been through to bring Saren to justice and she couldn’t blame Garrus for wanting to simply put a slug in his skull the minute he reappeared, but Jack would never have believed that there was anything in the galaxy that could make Garrus leave the ship. Leave Shepard.

It was blindingly obvious to Jack that those two should have been fucking each other months ago but they both seemed too focused on their jobs to realise their own feelings. For Garrus to strike out solo from the ship and leave Shepard to fend for herself? He must’ve been really desperate to prove that Saren was crooked. Especially since he didn’t trust anyone else to protect her; the whole crew knew that if Garrus was left behind when Shepard went shore-side then he was not going to be particularly pleasant company until she got back safely.

As Jack made her way towards the brig she was surprised to find herself getting nervous. She was Subject Zero, she didn’t fear anyone and absolutely everyone feared her. However, even she couldn’t ignore what she had heard of Saren’s history. He had been the most successful (not to mention the most ruthless) Spectre in the council’s history before he had become the most wanted and most dangerous threat to the entire galaxy. There were whole planetary governments that had grown to fear him, and that reputation was earned solely from Saren’s known deeds. She doubted that anyone in the galaxy knew details of his countless covert operations and “extra-curricular” activities.

Her nerves were suddenly replaced by confusion as the door to the brig hissed open to reveal not the straight-faced, stone silent prisoner she had seen upstairs but the last thing that she could have expected: Saren leaning forward, casually chatting to Thane about hand to hand combat.

“I must say I was impressed by your cognitive ability.” Thane said respectfully. “Your reactions were unusually fast and your strategy – adaptive and unpredictable.”

“It wasn’t my first time fighting a drell. Your eidetic memories require an opponent to act unpredictably. But your speed and balance were incredible, even when you started to get fatigued ... Keprals?”

“Yes.” Thane said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“My sympathies.”

Jack couldn’t believe it; twelve hours ago these two men were trying to kill each other, and both still bore the injuries they had inflicted upon each other. Yet here they sat chatting like friends in a bar.

“Hey!” Jack interrupted, turning to Thane as he stood from his seat. “You makin’ friends?”

Thane looked from Jack to the still shackled and seated Saren for a moment before turning back to her.

“His loyalties have yet to be determined,” He said, “But conversation passes the time, I have grown to enjoy such conversation.”

“Didn’t figure you for the conversational type ... Mr lone assassin.”

“It is a ... recent development.”

“Well your shift is done, I’ll take him for the next one.”

“Thank you, I should rest.” Thane said as he walked stiffly out of the brig. “Do you require anything?”

“Food,” Jack said enthusiastically, “The decent stuff, though. None of that protein mix shit.”

“Very well.” Thane said politely.

“Thanks.” Jack mumbled almost inaudibly, she fucking HATED saying that word. She took her seat as the door closed and turned her attention to Saren, who was now staring at the wall, his mood apparently sullied by his new guard.

Sexist pig, she thought, all these turian military bastards are the same.

“What, no chit-chat for me?” She said sarcastically, receiving only a muted scoff in response. “You better get used to female baby-sitters, half of the crew on this junker are chicks and you’re gonna have to work with them.”

“Your sex is not what offends me ... human.” Saren spat, venom in every word.

“Ah, yeah. You hate humans.” Jack said, suddenly remembering the rumours she had heard flying around the mess hall. “That’s OK, I don’t like ‘em either.”

“You ARE human.” Saren said, confusion creeping into his voice.

“Fuck that.” Jack replied, smiling before her face turned more serious. “Humans kidnapped me, experimented on me and tortured me into a fucking biotic weapon for half my life. I don’t have any more love for humans than for any other race in this fucked up galaxy, I look out for myself.”

She sat back, rested her head against the wall behind her, feigning disinterest while she waited for a response. Five seconds. Ten. From the corner of her eye she saw Saren relax forward and rest his elbows on his knees, obviously completely uncaring of anything she said. She resigned herself to silence and cursed her luck for being put on guard duty.

“They experimented on you?” Saren’s voice cut the silence with something different in his voice, something that Jack couldn’t quite place. Was it pity? Sadness? Looking at him directly she could now see that he was staring not at her, but rather through her into the distance, his attention seemingly lost in a faraway thought or memory.

“Yeah.” Jack said slowly. She waited through another long silence as his gaze fell to the floor at his feet.

“When I was young I was in the Turian military academy with my brother. He wanted to be a fleet pilot; he had always wanted to fly. But he entered the elite infantry corps with me ... he wanted to keep me safe, he always thought I was too impetuous for my own good. We were on our first tour of duty when our fleet that caught the first human explorers trying to reactivate the 314 relay. We didn’t have much to do with the initial mid-space skirmishes, but afterwards the fleet sent scouting contingents onto every nearby terrestrial planet to search for any other human incursions and negotiate their eviction from the system. Our unit was sent to Akuze, tropical hell hole. We found a mid-strength human military and scientific contingent, about twice our number. My squad were assigned as security escort to the first contact team, but the humans were too scared ... cowards. They opened fire on us before our negotiator could even open his mouth. We had to fight our way out of their compound ... lost a lot of men.

“My brother, though, he wasn’t so lucky. We were both caught by a stun grenade outside their perimeter, blew me into a patch of shrubbery and knocked him unconscious. I watched as they dragged my brother onto a transport skiff. They took at least three others alive, those of my unit that were left followed the shuttle on foot using one of our men’s emergency locators. It took us two days to find their secondary compound. We didn’t have the numbers for a full assault so we went in quietly that night to get our men out, including my brother.”

Jack didn’t make a sound. She didn’t know why he was telling her this, hell she wasn’t even sure if he realised he was saying this out loud, but she wasn’t going to interrupt. She waited as the silence stretched out, he sat motionless, still staring through the floor beneath him. She started to think that he was not going to continue before his voice cut the air again, barely more than a whisper.

“There was nothing left to rescue,” he said “The humans wanted to know their enemy, want to know how best to kill us. The bodies of our comrades had been dissected like lab animals and then burned like garbage. The ones they took alive: they suffered even worse. They had locked them in separate cells and tested them in extreme heat, cold ... poison gas. They kept them alive long enough for them to complete their experiments. My brother died alone and in agony at the hands of cowardly human scientists. I found the video logs of him screaming as they flooded the room with radiation and watched as he was cooked from the inside. Then they wheeled his corpse to the incinerator and burned his body.

“My team pulled out, there was nobody left alive to rescue. I stayed behind ... and I slaughtered every living thing in that base, shot every last one of them. It was a kindness compared to what they deserved.

“The council swept the whole incident into classified files: they needed a peaceful solution. The humans were never made to account for what they had done to our men, to my brother. The next week, the council selected me for Spectre training and removed me from my unit.”

“Shit.” Jack whispered incredulously. Saren, shaken from the memory, locked eyes with Jack for the first time since she had entered the room. She a saw a pure, unbridled hatred burning in his eyes.

“Humans are cruel and savage by nature.” He spat “They don’t deserve a seat on the council. They would be quarantined into their own solar system for the rest of time if I had my way.”

“So...” she began hesitantly, “why are you helping us?”

“’The enemy of my enemy...’” he said “Shepard knows that the Reapers are coming and intends to stop them. For now, that makes her my ally.”

The silence that followed was one of the most uncomfortable that she could remember enduring in her life. She jumped in her seat like a startled schoolgirl when the door hissed open beside her. A young crewman stood nervously holding a tray of food which Jack snatched from his hands angrily, pissed off that she had been so startled. She dove into her food vigorously, filling her mouth as an excuse for the lingering silence and avoiding Saren’s eyes that she could feel silently burning into her.

This was going to be a VERY long shift ... Fuck

Garrus had always been amazed how quickly Chora’s Den could clean up after a shootout. He doubted that they had even stopped serving drinks. To be fair, they had had a great deal of practise at it: there had been over a dozen “incidents” in Chora’s Den in his final year at C-Sec, and those were only the cases that were officially reported. He could imagine that there were more than a few incidents that people had paid good money to keep under wraps.

As the doors to the Den opened, Garrus found exactly what he had expected: business as usual. There was no sign of the fatal shootout that was merely a hiccup to this morning’s business. The bartenders looked as bored as usual as they kept up with the relaxed pace of the evening, the asari dancers gyrated on table tops and above the bar and the customers drank and laughed oblivious to the morning’s disturbances. Garrus, however, ignored them all. He was looking for someone in particular, whom he found at the usual table along the back wall, sipping at the bright blue drink in his hand.

“Garrus Vakarian,” the turian said pleasantly. “It’s been a long time. Sit down, have a drink.”

“General.” Garrus replied respectfully as he sat on the opposite side of the table.

“Ah, finally a young man who still respects us old wardogs. You’ve been a busy man since we last met.”

Garrus smiled wryly. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Septimus. I’ve just been minding my own business, despite whatever you’ve heard. To be honest I’m surprised a former general was even listening to stories about me at all.”

“Such modesty.” The general laughed. “I must admit I would have paid much more attention to you when we met three years ago had I known that you and Shepard were going after Saren. However, after the battle of the Citadel, I started keeping an eye on you. Spectre training, going vigilante then disappearing into the Terminus Systems only to come back on a ghost ship following a dead commander: quite impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.” Garrus wasn’t quite sure why the general was being so talkative but decided to let the warm welcome play out.

“So, where is Shepard?” Septimus asked as he scanned the room casually.

“We ... parted ways.” Garrus said, trying not to sound uncomfortable “Temporarily. It’s just me.”

“Do you mean it’s just you and the Krogan you left by the door.” He said smugly, smiling as he saw Garrus flinch as he realised he had been caught in a lie. “I’m old and I’m drunk, Garrus. I’m not dead.”

Garrus smiled at the comment as he tried to lead the conversation back on track.

“I have a feeling this conversation is leading to a point ...” Garrus probed.

Septimus’s face became slightly more serious as he took another drink before answering.

“My point is, Garrus” He began slowly, “That you are a busy man; a man who doesn’t waste his time with friendly drinks with old veterans. So the fact that you are sitting at my table means that you want something from me. I don’t mean to be rude when I say that I would rather get back to the company of the delightful drink in my hand so why don’t we get to why you are here. We’re soldiers, you and I, let’s not play politics.”

“Fair enough.” Garrus said, relieved to be free of pretences for once. “I’m looking for information.”

“Information about who?”

“Who indeed. I need an ID and history on a mercenary who was killed this morning trying to kill Shepard.”

“Sounds like C-Sec matter, why come to me?”

Garrus paused.

“I think he was a Black Talon.”

The general froze, his drink raised halfway to his mouth as he stared disbelievingly at Garrus.

“What leads you to think-“

“Obvious military background: he was the lead shooter, had military equipment and weapon modifications, state of the art omni-tool and C-Sec couldn’t identify him even though he’s Palevan born. Now if he’s Palevan born that means he would be 4th fleet ... your fleet. Missing I.D. records mean covert ops: Black Talons.”

“Garrus,” Septimus put his drink down and leaned in close to speak more quietly “The Black Talons are the most covert section of the 4th fleet. Every single one of those men is a hero. If you expect me to betray any of them to you just because you did me a favour a long time ago, you must be either stupid or crazy. Either way, I think it’s time you were on your way.”

Septimus made a motion with his left hand, signalling to the bodyguard who followed him discreetly at all times and who would have been waiting for such a signal since Garrus had approached the general. After a few seconds of waiting, the general saw a smug smile creep into Garrus’ features. Risking a glance over his shoulder to his guard’s table, his heart skipped a beat and his blood turned cold as he saw the turian slumped unconsciously against the table, seemingly passed out drunk to any passer by. The huge armoured form of a krogan sat across from Septimus’ guard, raising his glass and smiling cruelly as he saw the general look over.

His eyes were drawn back to his own table as he heard the all-too familiar sound of a weapon powering up. Turning back, he saw Garrus give a nod to the Krogan as he pointed a pistol at Septimus under the table.

“Be careful, Garrus.” The general warned, his voice conveying a great deal more confidence than he felt. “You are playing a very dangerous game.”

“So are you.” Garrus replied unflinchingly. “You think I believe that you kept an eye on me out of mere curiosity? You wanted to see just how much I had found out on Omega, exactly how much I knew.” He saw the general’s eyes flash towards the door, he was nervous. “Well, let me tell you EXACTLY how much I know. I know that the 4th fleet smuggling operation was started under your command just before you retired. I know that you still run the operation and I know that you move more narcotics and illegal mods through Omega than half of the gangs: half of everything illegal that the 4th fleet impounds coming into citadel space gets turned straight back around by your men and sold back into the Terminus systems. You know who I was on Omega; you think because you don’t traffic guns or hire out muscle that I wouldn’t notice? Now, you get me every piece of intel you have on this scumbag and whoever hired him or I swear I will go to war on your entire operation: I’ll burn every shipment and kill every distributor you have, I will tear apart every illegal deal you try to make in the galaxy. Then I’ll send enough evidence to the hierarchy to burn your entire life to the ground. All those years of service, your precious reputation will be swept away, forgotten ... and your pension, erased. All of your political contacts that you wine and dine with every week will cut you off. You’ll be a pariah, Septimus. And just when you think you’ve lost everything you can stand to lose: your money, your friends, your reputation ... I’m going to come back and blow out both your legs, and put you in a chair for the rest of your life: a crippled, disgraced old man.”

The general sat in silence as the image sank in. Garrus knew he had struck the right nerve: Septimus was a military man to the bone, the thing he valued most was the respect he had earned from others. He let him have the time to imagine the full weight of the life that Garrus had promised to give him and weigh his options. After a minute or so, he saw the General’s muscles sag slightly in defeat.

“What do I have to go on?” he asked weakly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Garrus relaxed slightly.

“Palevan born as I said, middle aged, lots of facial scarring – lacerations, probably another turian. He carried a thresher maw tooth round his neck and my partner tell me he favoured a scimitar shotgun with an E.M. spread condenser and a turian fleet issue combat sight.”

The general nodded, it was enough information and Garrus knew it. The Black Talons were the covert special force of the 4th Fleet. Their very existence was denied if captured, all identification was destroyed upon their induction into the unit. Their numbers were small and dropouts were rare. To find out which one had such traits and possessions would be a simple task for Septimus, who was one of the few people who had enough influence within the fleet to access their records.

“You have eighteen hours, come to the Binary Helix docks tomorrow morning.” Garrus said as he holstered his pistol, stood up and walked away, followed by the krogan a few seconds later who finished his drink as he left. Septimus slumped back in his chair, sullen and angry as he gulped back the remains of his drink and ordered another.

Wrex caught up to Garrus as he neared the skyway.

“Whoever hired these guys did so off-station.” Wrex said. “We’re gonna need a ship if we’re gonna go after ‘em.”

“What a coincidence,” Garrus said with a smile. “I happened to hear of a very fine ship being impounded by C-Sec just this afternoon. Meet me in the Binary Helix docks early tomorrow, we’ll have a ship.”