Fandom Mass Effect: Endeavor

[RedCrow]

December 9, 2190, The Citadel, Lower Wards


"Yes Chief, I understand." Maribeth said as she hustled down into the Lower Wards for what felt like the hundredth time in two days. Her omni-tool glowed about her wrist, a sign that she was having a conversation and thus was not to be disturbed. A sign that the obstinate man following her was rather blatantly choosing to ignore.


"Miss, I know you can hear me." he said again, his tenor voice straining to be heard while also remaining civil. She gave him a stern look and held up her omni-tool, hoping he would get the hint. Unfortunately for her, if he saw the hint at all he chose to ignore it. Though for the moment at least he stopped talking. She continued walking at her brisk pace, her boots tromping against the metal floors in tandem with everyone else who was running about today. Her shoulders were tight, her back ached, she could feel the hot spots on her feet that would soon turn into blisters. She carried on though, knowing that as part of C-Sec it was her duty to help keep order until things went back to normal.


"Yeah, I'm on my way there now." she said, returning her attention to her section chief. She'd heard tell of a triage center that had been hastily constructed around one of the crashed pods from the Majesty of the Stars. She'd also heard it was headed by a krogan, of all things, but surely that was some sort of miscommunication. Still, whoever was in charge was doing good work, and with every hospital and care center full to capacity any help was appreciated.


"Roger, I'll check in with cent-com once I've helped relieve the security detail." she said. Her omni-tool faded away. She pulled her cap off and ran her hand through her short hair. She could feel the sweat on her brow that was staining her cap. Ugh, when was the last time she showered? Hell, when was the last time she slept? With no day-night cycle she was genuinely concerned about how long it had been. She shook herself and put her cap back on. She'd take another hit of stims if needed. She didn't normally like to use them, but desperate times...


"Miss." the same voice called again, shaking her from her reverie.


"What!?" she yelled, spinning on her heel to face him.


"Miss, please, you've gotta' know something." he said, undeterred by her ire. Something about this other human put her off. Most people in a crisis have a different look about them, an unmistakable look of loss or grief, they'll hold themselves, or hold someone else, they'll weep, or rage as they work through their emotions and come to terms but this guy... Nothing. His expression was hard, his intense stare drilling into her as if he were literally attempting to read her mind. She looked at his outfit, a 1/4 zip-up fleece top, cargo pants with an Alliance camouflage pattern, sturdy boots, maybe he was some kind of veteran? Would explain his ability to cope...


"Sir I--" she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she canted her hips to one side, "sir, C-Sec procedure states that we're not allowed to discuss any evidence in an ongoing investigation." the man's chest heaved as he sighed. Clearly he'd heard that response before.


"Right. Sorry." his apology seemed more like an automated response than a genuine attempt to smooth her ruffled feathers. She returned to her task, walking down to where the triage center was supposed to be. To her great frustration, the man was still following her.


"Sir, what're you--" she started.


"Headed to the triage center, right? Though I suppose by now it's more of a field hospital..." he said, keeping pace as he walked alongside her. She noticed how his footsteps made no sound. Definitely a vet, she decided.


"That doesn't answer my question." she said.


"Huh?" he replied, a simple, short, inquisitive sound.


"I said that doesn't answer my--" she tried to repeat herself.


"Oh, right. I figure if you're going there, then there must be other C-Sec officers there. Maybe one of them knows something." he said, staring ahead as he walked.


"Sir y-fine. Fine. Whatever." she decided it best not to say anything else. She would've liked to stop and figure out just what this man was after, but for the moment she had to focus on the big picture. She knew helping to keep the triage center secure and well supplied would do more for more people.


________________________


The Citadel, Presidium





Vyra sat on the restaurant patio, taking in the facsimile of the outdoors that was the Presidium. She looked up at the artificial sunset, and for a moment was almost able to make herself believe it was the real thing. Vyra felt someone approach, and by instinct her hand went to her right hip, missing the pistol she used to carry there.


"Can I get you anything else ma'am?" a feminine voice asked. Vyra turned, fixing her eyes on the asari waitress. Vyra cast her gaze over the table in front of her, nodding at the empty glass.


"Another drink would be lovely." Vyra said, her voice a pleasant contralto colored by the metallic flanging typical to turian voices. The waitress nodded and took the empty glass with her as she walked away. Vyra was not happy to be here. She knew any moment now an Alliance diplomat and an N7 Operative were to meet with her. She also knew that there was supposed to be a Spectre here to accompany her. The Council hoped that in a less formal setting, tensions wouldn't rise so high, people could set their pride aside, and maybe they could finally get some sort of plan of attack in motion. Vyra, for her part, hoped the Council was right.

 

[The Fuzzy Pixel]

So many people wounded and injured. Thankfully most of them were humans; the work was thus monotonous, but there weren't many surprises thrown at him. Krezk had enough to deal with as is. Most of the worst cases had long since been transferred to the Citadel's dedicated clinics, though; a field hospital simply didn't have the means to deal with the absolute critical. There was only so much medi-gel could do, and even that once abundant commodity was in short supply now. Due to the nature of the situation groaning cries for help were almost constant. A dirge to remind everyone of the tragedy that had occurred two days ago, as if the left over wreckage and news reports weren't enough.


The krogan's heavy frame was still clad in the concrete gray clothes he had worn when first stepping onto the Citadel after exiting his lifeboat. Dried blood speckled his attire, and when coupled with his weary expression the krogan didn't make for the most friendly of faces. Currently he was walking through the triage center hastily set up in one of the wide courtyards of the Lower Wards. Rows of cots and makeshift bedding made it easy to navigate from one end of the encampment to the other, allowing Krezk to catch up with a squat form trying to leave. Just as the volus made it out of the boundary of beds the krogan reached out to firmly plant his hand on the smaller being's head from behind to stop him.


"Leaving so soon?" rumbled Krezk in a tired voice.


"Eh-wha-?! Um, yes, I.." The volus didn't turn around and fidgeted with something in front of him. "I was looking for a friend and he's not here so.. I'll be leaving."


"Hnnn.. 'He,' huh? So the purse is yours?" The krogan's grip on the portly alien's head held firm as he started to drag the volus back.


"Ahh! Release me! I-I.. was just looking to return it!" The volus' voice was punctuated by the heavy breathing of his suit as he talked, interrupting his panicked words. "Yes, return it!" In one hand the volus held up the white purse he had swiped from one of the recuperating patients.


"How kind of you," cooed the krogan almost sarcastically. Krezk reached out to turn the volus back towards the triage center and nudged him forward. "I'll walk with you. Don't want any thieves giving you trouble, friend."


After the purse was returned to its rightful owner Krezk stood at the edge of the field hospital again, this time letting the grubby handed volus leave. With a disgusted sigh he shook his head then activated his omni-tool to check on some numbers. The lack of supplies was disconcerting as always, and the long hours spent taking care of hurt humans was starting to take its toll even on his hardy body. "Should get something to eat while it's relatively quiet, I suppose." As if in reply his stomach growled having been reminded of the last time Krezk ate: fourteen hours ago. The krogan patted his stomach with a soft guttural growl before turning to face the mass of injured people. The din of pained groans wasn't letting up, but at least no one was dying anymore. "Not like it'll be quiet for a while, anyways.."

 

[Graverobber141]

Beep. Beep. Beep.


Sweat dripped down Jaxon's brow as he raised his eyes to glare at his omnitool, which was resting on a table on the other side of the room. He gritted his teeth, lowering his body back down to the floor before raising it again in another push-up. He could feel his muscles straining at the effort. By this point, he had lost count of how many he had done.


Beep. Beep. Beep.


Exhaling in frustration, the Spectre rose to his feet and crossed the room quickly, picking up the device so violently it was like he planned to toss it across the room. What the hell was so important? The little alert message displayed on the holographic screen: "Meet diplomats in Presidium." Oh. Yeah. That. Sighing, he quickly washed off, got dressed in a simple pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and his combat boots, and headed out his apartment door to make his way to the meeting place.


The last few days had been hell. The first few hours he spent after the ship blowed was with a doctor that he was pretty sure liked causing patients pain. He hadn't been hurt that badly-only a few forehead stitches, some scrapes and cuts, and a minor burn on his shoulder-but he still had to fight get out. The first thing he did was bark at the Council's door until they gave him the assignment, and after that, he wasted more time as the human representative gave him a long lecture on 'playing nice'.


At least he got the job.


Stepping out of the elevator, he raised a hand to block out the artificial sun, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light. It was simple enough to find the cafe, and he pursued his lips as he searched the crowd and found who he was looking for. Only the turian diplomat had arrived, it seemed. He scoffed, mumbling under his breath, "Typical Alliance BS." He walked to the table slowly, drawing it out as much as he could. When he arrived, he jerked the chair across from Vyra out with his foot and plopped down in it, slumping back in the seat in a posture that clearly stated he wasn't thrilled to be there. He held out his arm so he could wave down a waitress, grunting, "Coffee. Black. Sugar."


After that was done, his eyes fell on Vyra, and he crossed a leg over his lap. "The name's Jaxon Asher. Spectre." He spoke in a quick succession, like he was here to get straight to business. He pointed a finger in her direction. "And I hope you're Jorren, the diplomat I assume who's here to hold my hand." He scoffed. "Or I'm sitting at the wrong damn table." He looked off to stare irritably at the waitress he had ordered from, tapping his foot against the table's metal leg impatiently.

 

[RedCrow]

As with most disasters it was the smell you noticed first. Maribeth felt the onslaught of burnt metal and ozone against her senses, it settled at the back of her throat, as if she were trying to swallow a small coin. Once that passed, there was the smell of medicine, blood, burnt hair and clothing coming from the triage center, followed almost as quickly by the groans of the injured. She was thankful enough time had passed that anyone in critical condition had already either passed on, or been moved to a hospital. She approached a turian standing in front of what passed for a gate to the center, really it was just a few empty supply crates set parallel to each other.


"Sergeant." she said, a terse greeting and acknowledgement of rank.


"Sergeant." he replied in the same tone. He heaved a weary sigh, his three-fingered hand moving to his face and rubbing at his green clan markings.


"That bad huh?" Maribeth asked, stepping a little closer. It was understood that C-Sec had to behave a certain way in front of civilians, but among themselves that veneer could safely be stripped away.


"You have no idea Mary." he said. She looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. He gave her a quizzical look before following her gaze.


"Ah. Well. I suppose you've got some idea, haven't you." he corrected himself.


"Unfortunately." she said. She put her hands on her hips, "So who's in charge here?"


"Krezk. Gray clothes, dour expression, krogan, y'can't miss him." he said. She raised a brow.


"Yeah, that's about how I felt. He may be krogan, but apparently he's still a fine doctor." the turian checked his omni-tool, sending a message to the other C-Sec officers providing security.


"More replacements should be along in a minute. Anything else I should know?" she asked.


"Well... Lao made another offer of food and medical supplies from his private stocks." the turian said.


"He would." she huffed as she crossed her arms. The fact that that strange man was no longer with her barely registered in her mind.


~


He moved between the cots where the injured lay and the beleaguered first responders with practiced ease. He wasn't here to make trouble, and people were able to pick up on that. He even would have liked to stop and help, but he had his own mission to pursue. The C-Sec officer he'd been speaking with earlier had made a good point, there was no reason to ask anyone in C-Sec since their rules and regulations prevented them from discussing much of anything about the disaster with non-C-Sec personnel. But a doctor, one who had actually been aboard the ship before the disaster occurred, hopefully he would have no such compunctions. Spotting the doctor was easy enough, he looked like a mountain wrapped in gray and stood a full hump, head, and shoulders above anyone else there. For the moment the doctor didn't look busy, so he decided to make his approach. He came in from the side, making sure to move into the wide cone of vision that all krogans had.


"Doc? S'cuse me, doc?" he called out as he stepped forward, raising a hand in salutation.


"Doc, hey, uh-y'don't know me, but most people call me Pickle." he said.


"I need your help. When you were on that ship, did you see a group of people in dark uniforms with a red band around one arm? There would have been a man among them, bit shorter 'n me, small gut, shrapnel scars on the left side of his face? What about - there'd a' been a turian with them too, gray shell, bright yellow markings, part of his head fringe broken off, see anyone like that?" he asked. He had a peculiar manner of moving his hands about as he talked, indicating the different body parts with gestures as he spoke of them. Judging by his rising tone these people were important to him.


"Hey! Hey!! What do you think you're doing?" Maribeth approached Pickle from behind, pulling on his shoulder hard enough to make him spin on his heel. Pickle's hands clenched into white-knuckle fists, but his face showed no expression. Maribeth, unimpressed but not looking for trouble, simply moved her hand to the grip of her pistol as a friendly reminder of its presence.


"You can't just go bothering the doctor like that. I'm sorry sir, I'll get him out of here." she said, giving Krezk an apologetic look.


"Wait, what? No! Doc! C'mon doc, y'gotta' help me!" Pickle protested as she began to move him away.


___________________________


Vyra looked just a little more disappointed as the Spectre made his approach.


"No shit." she said, her tone flat as she assessed and appraised him with the trained eyes of a veteran. It was all he would get as a greeting.


"I've been briefed, Asher, and most of us who work with the Council know of you, even if we don't know you directly. So unfortunately for us both, you're at the right table." she said. She downed the rest of her drink as the asari brought his coffee over. When she moved to take Vyra's glass Vyra gave a little wave, indicating that she was done for now. She looked back at the human in front of her as she leaned back, crossing her legs and arms in a feminine manner that had taken her some time to learn. She liked his attitude, they were always so much more fun when they had something to prove.


"Look, the Alliance diplomat should be here any moment. I know you didn't exactly leave the Alliance on the best terms, so when they get here do me a favor and swallow your ego, bite your tongue to keep it from coming back up, and just sit there and look pretty, OK? If we play this right I can enlighten them as to why it would be best for a human Spectre to handle this in the name of the Council and then you can finally get to work, alright?" she asked, her tone completely professional. She checked her omni-tool for the time. When the hell were the humans going to arrive anyway?

 

[MyUsualTriumph]

Andi was never late.


She cursed herself and tapped at her datapad as she made her way through the citadel. Her boots were a steady and persistent click as she made her way through the hustle and bustle. "No, no, that's not... Ugh." She muttered to herself, tapping a few more buttons on the screen. This was ridiculous. She was a soldier, not a politician. When did this become her business? Ever since she the disaster, it seemed as if playing the diplomat was all she had done. Sure, she had witnessed the disaster first had, and she was more well-spoken than many of her peers, but regardless it was not easy.


Andi forced herself to look away from the datapad as she approached the presidium. All of the Alliance nonsense would have to wait. Now was the time for her to play spokesperson. As she tucked the datapad away, Andi looked over the expanse of the presidium. It really was beautiful. Lush green grass, crystal blue water... Andi had seen the real thing, and knew it was no comparison. The true beauty of god's work was something no man-made entity could replicate. However, the effort was admirable.


The brunette scanned the expanse of the presidium, looking to find the rest of her party. She was meeting with a Council rep and a Spectre. Vyra Jorren and Jaxon Asher. She had heard the Jorren had once served n the military, which served to calm her nerves ever so slightly. She had spent the week trying to speak with people who had never seen combat, and was thoroughly exhausted. It would be refreshing to speak to someone who understands. Then there was Jaxon. ... Well, his infamy preceded him. There wasn't a soul in the military who hadn't heard of his exploits. Andi groaned. Technically the meeting wasn't scheduled for another two minutes, and she was the last one there. "Game face, Porter." She muttered to herself as she tightened her ponytail. With a deep breath she approached the table.


"Hello!" She greeted with a smile. "Andromeda Porter. I'm from the Alliance military." She offered Vyra and Jaxon her hand in turn to shake as she took her seat. She smiled at the asari waitress as she walked over to offer her a drink. "Coffee, please. Black would be perfect. Thank you." Once the asari had left to gather her drink, she turned her attention fully to those with whom she shared the table. "How are you?" Perhaps it was a strange question, in the light of their meeting, but her father had raised her to be polite, no matter the circumstances. The galaxy could be drowning in flames, there was always time for manners.

 

[Graverobber141]

Jaxon glared over at Vyra, flaring his nostils much like a bull would. He picked up his coffee after it was brought to him, chugging back a gulp, even though it was pretty hot, before setting it down on the table. His tongue was scorched painfully, but he stubbornly bit down an impulsion to slam a fist down onto the table. "Well, good morning to you too." His speech sounded forced, probably because his tongue felt like it was on fire. He would be tasting ash for a week.


The Spectre turned his gaze else where, staring off into the crowd as he waited. His fingers drummed against the table's top. "And I left the Alliance on pretty good terms. I even turned in a resignation letter. It had only a few words: 'Go to hell.' All caps. Fancy envelope." His lips twitched into a small smirk, but it soon faded as he watched a woman approach their table. He grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. "This should be fun."


His eyes fell down upon the Alliance soldier's outstretched hand, and he raised an eyebrow, as if saying 'Really?'. He didn't accept the handshake; he merely scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. He eyed up Andi critically, frowning a bit. He had been hoping for someone with at least a few scars. But that name? Porter? He thought he recognized it...


"I'm just so swell," Jaxon replied with mock enthasium. "And I am extremely happy to be here today...After almost being blown to shreds in a tragic event that will forever taint the history pages." He threw on his best, sarcastic smile as he turned his head back to Vyra.

 

[Halluxenogen]

"You're being so well-behaved today," Yenne commented, scrolling through news feeds she read a thousand times on her omni-tool, refreshing and refreshing and refreshing. She lay on the bed in her HabCapsule.


"One of us has to be," Quilibet remarked. The geth stood idle only a few feet away from her, standing at attention. It stared around the area, waiting on Yenne's next move.


Her last few hours on the Citadel was spent eavesdropping in the Dark Star Lounge, on the catwalks, and listening to news feeds throughout the Zakera wards. Everything was too loud for her taste and none of the noise was telling her what she already didn't know. Who she needed to talk to was some survivors. Though Yenne was almost certain most those who survived were still in shock, and they wouldn't just let her parade around, interrogating. She'd have to be delicate about it.


Yenne dismissed her omni-tool and quickly sat up, finally deciding that no new information was going to be published at the moment. "Let's walk around some more," she suggested, sliding off her bed, "We're going to check by the field hospital. Maybe we can swing by the bar again." The thought of doing either brought on a migraine.


"Because that course of action succeeded the last five times you have attempted it," Quilibet said, before it paused and made that whirling sound that always sent Yenne's nerves to the edge; it was analyzing her. "We detect a sharp advancement in anxiety and irritability. Have you taken all your medications? Are you positive you would like to depart at this moment?"


"There's nothing else to do and I don't feel like reading anymore," Yenne explained, brushing off its first question, "but I've changed my mind, I think you should just stay here. Your presence is somewhat offbeat."


"We are tempted to say no, just to see your reaction," the geth watched her as she made her way to the door, "Given your current state, it would not be recommended to go on your own, Creator-Yenne'Jalas."


The quarian counted five, ten, twenty different scenarios in her head before groaning, "No, you're staying here. Power down and save your energy."


As soon as Quilibet did so, Yenne made her way through the wards and down the elevator. It's there again, she thought, always with the staring! She took comfort in the confinement of her enviro-suit, the only thing that separated her from them, and ignored the cold sweat she was getting. She could've sworn a couple of C-Sec officers looked at her the wrong way. Quilibet had consistently told her it was nothing, a delusion, but she knew someone was watching her. She spent half of her time checking her pockets for all her things and looking over her shoulder rather than listening to the news like she intended; she wouldn’t admit it but she depended on Quilibet for most of that. It always found some way to calm her; she found reassurance in its synthetic, monotonous voice compared to the loud, bustling populace-


Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the elevator, alerting her that she had 'arrived at her destination.' Immediately her attention was taken by the scene just a few meters before her. A krogan, a man in his late twenties, and a C-Sec officer, of all things to run into right now. "Shit," Yenne cursed, pretending to be on her way.


Apparently the krogan was a doctor and the human looked like he wanted information just as desperately as her. Only he appeared more audacious and forthright about it. Dark uniforms? Red bands? What was he going on about? The only thing stopping him from getting an answer, it seemed, was the officer who had her hand planted firmly on a sheathed pistol, shoving the shouting man away from "Doc."


She'd never use it, Yenne thought, intimidation tactic. She kept her head down low.

 

[RedCrow]

Vyra looked at the hand for a moment before she remembered what the typical human response was. She shook Andromeda's hand, and wished that for once Asher would play nice. Alas, it was not to be.


"At least you weren't actually blown to shreds, what a terrible tragedy that would have been." Vyra said. She looked Andromeda up and down. Typical Alliance military, rattled from the incident, tired and overworked, just like everyone else in the Citadel. Vyra was aware of Andromeda's more famous father, and vaguely wondered how much he played a role in her current position. In that moment Vyra felt a small ounce of pity for the human, wondering how many of her own kind had had that same thought. Perhaps that explained why they decided to send her down here without some sort of diplomatic back-up.


"So, Miss Porter, I understand you've been busy these past couple days." Vyra said. She hated having to use the civilian title of 'Miss' but none of her aides were able to find out what Andromeda's actual rank was.


"Surely the Alliance is reeling from this disaster, and much as the Council appreciates your initiative, there are other more radical factions that don't look as kindly upon human military presence." Vyra said. She took a deep breath, wishing she'd had a stronger drink earlier.


"However, there's wisdom in compromise, and I don't see the point in letting people suffer for the pride of some bureaucrats. So let's say that Asher is the one in charge, on paper anyway, since most people are willing to tolerate a Spectre, especially one trying to end a terrorist threat. Don't fret though. Having you here waiting in the wings would be a waste of your time and talent. Instead we could make you a military advisor assisting in the investigation, put a second set of eyes on all the evidence, right? This will put you both out there in the field, where maybe you'll both be able to finally do some good." she said. Her tone remained even, despite her racing heart. It was a gamble after all, one that she'd catch all kinds of hell for if they decided to go through with it.

 

[The Fuzzy Pixel]

The presence of a walking human entering the peripherals of his vision snapped Krezk's green eye towards the being almost immediately. At first he thought it was another injured person trying to get up and leave, but after a cursory scrutiny the man didn't appear to be limping. This observation pulled the krogan's attention away from his omni-tool, which he promptly deactivated as the human greeted him. Krezk nodded at first in acknowledgement of stranger's hello, but a slightly skeptical expression twisted at his scale covered face soon after.


"Pickle?" echoed the krogan curiously not in recognition but in puzzlement. It was an odd name indeed. Another quick look over was given to the human as Krezk turned fully to face the man. There didn't seem to be any signs of injury or trauma to the human's head, nor were there any other hints of Pickle having been in the triage center before. The man confirmed this with what he had to say. When suddenly asked about people who may or may not have been on the ship that exploded two days ago Krezk raised a brow. He held up a finger to gesture for Pickle to stop talking, not wanting such a discussion to occur within earshot of any patients less it triggered some emotional backlash.


The human was determined however; and, lo and behold, something he said, or did considering the animated hand motions, did make the weary krogan pause. Krezk tapped his chin thoughtfully several times, forcibly ignoring the ensuing commotion escalating before him as his green eyes strayed to the side. For a moment he said nothing before his gaze flickered back to Pickle and the woman trying to drag him away.


"Wait," spoke Krezk almost reluctantly. "It's fine. He just has a question, but not here." His tired stare drifted to the many patients on cots and makeshift beddings pointedly. "Not here," he repeated firmly as he looked back to the two humans. "Thank you for your presence Officer, but I'll be fine. Please continue your duties. You, Pickle. Come with me." Krezk led the man back towards the glorified entrance to the encampment, but stopped short to move to a small clearing on the side. He scratched almost irritably at the armored plate on his forehead as he regarded Pickle with a thoughtful stare. The krogan's voice was low in tone as it always was, but this time he spoke more softly.


"First off. Don't get the injured riled up with your excitement. I don't need that kind of trouble right now. As for your questions.." He sighed and shook his head before continuing. "I've seen a lot of red, and a lot of injured humans these past two days. So I can't help you with the human you're looking for. The turian, however; yeah, now that you mention it I did pass by someone like that yellow markings and all. Didn't pay him any attention then, though. He must've seen some hard action to get his fringe damaged like that." For a few moments Krezk looked back to the rows of patients before looking back to Pickle.


"If he got out of that mess he didn't end up here. Sounds like you know these people by more than their looks, though? My best guess is that you'd do better asking people who might have access to the ship's logs. System Alliance folks. Or the company representatives who would have managed the Majesty of Stars arrival here on the Citadel." The krogan shifted his weight as if anxious about something and looked around again before focusing back on Pickle. "This sounds important to you, so I'll tell you what. I have to regularly send out updated reports on the patients here. A copy also goes to the two groups I just mentioned. I can give you the reports to run out to them." At this point Krezk grunted, a bit uncomfortable with what he was about to say. He spoke in an uneasy tone now.


"I doubt they'll just let you rifle through their logs, but if that information just so happens to find its way into your hands.. There are some names I'm looking for as well."

 

[RedCrow]

Maribeth pulled her hands away from Pickle as soon as the doctor decided everything was alright. She sighed as Pickle left to walk with the doctor.


"If you say so... Welp, if you decide you need anything else you can find me or any of the other C-Sec -- and they're not even listening." Maribeth sighed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could feel the lead weight of exhaustion settling in her feet and around her shoulders. She wondered how long she could go before she absolutely needed another hit of stims, or if she'd be relieved and finally allowed a few hours for sleep... Sitting around thinking about it wasn't going to get anything done though. She decided that movement would stave off the desire to sleep, and began patrolling the campsite. Beyond some emergency first response training, Maribeth did not know much about first aid. The people she saw in need were beyond her capacity to help, so she decided to move to the perimeter of the triage site.


"Goddammit..." she muttered to herself as she walked. What could she do? What could C-Sec really do about this? All the teddy bears and blankets on the Citadel couldn't give a kid his legs back. She shook her head. Such thoughts were a path to self destruction. She knew that. Every officer with more than two years under their belt knew that.


"Focus on the now," she reminded herself. Speaking of which... She spotted a quarian in a black and gold suit staring at the camp. She'd heard part of the Migrant Fleet had traded with the Majesty of the Stars shortly before the disaster. Old prejudices being what they were, the fallout probably hadn't been kind to the quarian people either.


"Miss?" she called out to the quarian as she approached, "Is everything alright Miss? Unless you're hoping to check up on someone, you might want to move along. Some of the people here are eager to find someone to blame."


___________________________


It hadn't been Pickle's intent to cause trouble, but he could see the doctor's point. He must have looked quite a sight, coming in and ranting about men in strange uniforms. He stood quietly, following the doctor with his eyes, hands clasped in front of his waist, feet spread shoulder-width apart. He looked like a coiled spring held taut through self-discipline. Apparently stillness did not suit him, but when it was required he would do his damnedest to remain absolutely still.


As the doctor continued to speak, Pickle chose not to comment. Of course Pickle knew these people, but the how and why of it were his business. The doctor made some good points about where Pickle should continue his investigation, then began to make a request.


"Done deal Doc." Pickle said, almost as soon as the doctor was done talking. He activated his omnitool and held it out.


"Transfer the data package and tell me what you need." Pickle said. Even though there was no money involved this was still mercenary work, something with which Pickle was infinitely more comfortable. He didn't bother asking the doctor why he needed the names, it wasn't his business after all.

 

[Halluxenogen]

The quarian's inquisitiveness heightened as the krogan lead the human to a secluded area, addressing him in hushed whispers. The officer, now left to her own business, appeared deep in thought. Then all hell followed as she looked up and advanced towards Yenne.


She felt her heart lurch into her throat and her stomach sink; everything in her possession became suddenly more prominent. The officer stopped in front of her, and all she could hear was the thud of the heartbeat in her ears. Up close, she realized she recognized this officer. In the time she had been on the Citadel, she had seen her working throughout the wards. To Yenne, just another officer with the accusatory looks. But keelah... had she asked something? When her brain caught up with her, she wrung her hands, forcing herself to straighten out her back and look the officer in the eyes.


"Yes, I am quite aware, and…" Yenne finally spoke as her eyes drifted and lingered on the two in the distance. She needed to stall. The officer wouldn't let her stick around without a reason. Perhaps appealing to her better nature was the way to go. When she realized she had gone silent for too long, Yenne quickly snapped her eyes back to the officer, "I'd have to ask you the same thing. You look shaken up by what happened too. I've seen you around and I appreciate the work you do on the Citadel."


That wouldn't be enough. She added, "I am looking for someone. Human female, goes by the name of Bianca Dowen. Kinda tall, with dark brown skin. She was on The Majesty. I just got back from the Fleet in search for her to confirm their safety, so please." A fat lie. Bringing up a dead woman's name left a bad taste in her mouth, but she had to come up with something on the spot. An old and gone acquaintance. Nevertheless, the officer couldn't possibly know that. She'd be damned if they decided to look through the passenger list.


Despite how fast she was speaking, Yenne would have to applaud herself later; she didn't show her apprehensiveness through speech and her voice was strong compared to how sick she felt. The deafening pulsation continued.

 

[MyUsualTriumph]

Andi bit the side of her tongue in irritation at the spectre's response. Yup. The spectre's reputation definitely preceded him. Truly, it didn't take that much work to be kind to someone else. Sure, he was tired and overworked, but who wasn't? In the wake of the disaster, Andi would challenge him to find an official in any service who wasn't exhausted and cranky. This is when kindness really mattered. That smile and genuine caring really made a difference.


Unsurprisingly, the beauty of it was lost on Asher.


“Lieutenant.” Andi offered with a smile when the turian appeared to stumble over the human civilian title. She wasn't bothered by it, but she knew the councilwoman was former military, and probably felt more comfortable using her rank as a title. Personally, Andromeda never felt comfortable being addressed by her rank. There were always those who knew how to spin it to where it sounded like an insult. Many of her peers were certain that she had not earned it, that it was simply a reflection of her name. Of course, she would show them up in the field and show them that she had earned it herself, though the bitterness still lingered.


As Vyra began to discuss the current situation, Andromeda tried not to appear too uncomfortable. The brunette simply nodded her head politely and silently wished the Alliance had seen it fit to send her with some diplomatic back up. Of course, it was good to have the face of a soldier on the front lines, but many of the finer points of diplomacy were lost on the brunette. She tried not to wrinkle her nose at the prospect of Asher being in charge. He was a spectre, sure, but he was also arrogant and pig-headed. In layman's terms- an asshole.


Andi's brows furrowed slightly, thinking through the plan. “So, essentially you want us both in the field, figuring out what we can?” She was well aware of all of the red tape surrounding the civilian investigators, and as military personnel they would easily overcome it. The problem came in with exactly who she wanted to go about this mission. “I think it would need to be more than just us.” She spoke hesitantly, still learning her place in these negotiations. “Racial tensions are exceedingly high following the incident, and if it were just the two of us...” Her voice trailed off as her brain sorted through the many possible unfortunate scenarios. “Well, it might make a lot of people unhappy.”

 

[Graverobber141]

"Uh-huh. The Council would've probably been celebrating until they realized they didn't have anybody good enough around to clean up the mess." Jaxon scoffed as he leaned back in his chair, looking up at the fake sky above him. He folded his arms over his chest as he started to drift elsewhere, having finished his attempt to make Jorren's job ten times harder. It was nothing against her personally, he just didn't like paper-pushers, as if that wasn't obvious. If people just said what they wanted, were blunt, and skipped the fake words and fake smiles, the galaxy would run so much smoother, or so he believed. He couldn't stand the dance-perhaps because he couldn't even understand it-and that was obvious as his posture tried to state that he didn't care, yet with the way he tapped his foot repeatedly on the ground, he was getting impatient.


And then the diplomat who was supposed to grudgingly be on his side made her compromise. He sat up quickly, bringing his focus back to the conversation in the blink of an eye. He placed his arms on the table as he leaned forward, lips twitching slightly. He spoke in a firm, almost commanding voice, "One thing I want to make absolutely clear. I don't do this 'on paper' shit. Either something is, or it isn't. So either I'm in charge, or everyone just stays out of my damn way."


Once his point was made, he took a gulp from his coffee, and practically threw his body back into his former position. He was going to let the two of them hash out the details he didn't care about. He'd quite honestly rather not have a team he had to worry about, but, once again, with the damn dance of appearances. Didn't that crap almost cost the galaxy once already? He snorted at the thought.


And then it hit him. Porter. The Alliance bigwig. His stare shot back to the Lieutenant, and he eyed her up, as if trying to find the resemblance. He shook his head as his ran a few fingers through his hair, muttering, "Great." He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, besides himself. The realization that if he went through with this compromise idea, and if something were to happen to his new 'partner' on it, the Council wouldn't have any problems about throwing him under the bus to avoid a 'diplomatic' issue, he was sure. He decided to take the turian's advice for now, sitting there with his arms crossed, glaring, biting his tongue, and looking pretty. Well, more like pissed.

 

[RedCrow]

"No idea." Maribeth said. She hadn't heard of any names coming out of the disaster, living or dead, as they were trying to keep such information private.


"They'll notify her next-of-kin before they tell someone like me. Your best bet would probably be to get in touch with her family, if you're that concerned about her." She put her hands on her hips and looked around. It didn't seem like anyone nearby was feeling particularly rowdy.


"Look, I understand you're concerned, but I haven't seen anyone who matches that description around here. Now this is public space, and you're not doing anything wrong, but I would highly encourage you to move elsewhere. This isn't exactly the most civilized part of the Citadel, y'know?" she tilted her head.


"Anyway, if you'll excuse me. Miss." she touched the bill of her hat in the old Earth way of showing courtesy before stepping off to meet with other officers around the camp.


_____________________________________


"And that's it?" Pickle asked, hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised.


"Yes. That won't be a problem, will it?" Krezk's tone was flat, making it less of a question and more of a statement. Apparently he was not open to negotiation.


"Oh, yeah, sure, no problem I mean I'm just sneaking into Huerta Memorial after all."


"Of course. Surely not a proble--"


"The Huerta Memorial that was expanded and fortified in the aftermath of the attack on the Citadel."


"Right, as I was--"


"The same Huerta Memorial that's now crawling with C-Sec officers and private security from every damn CEO and corporate head that managed make it off that tub."


"Yes... Th--"


"That Huerta Memorial?" Pickle's eyes had a wild intensity to them. Krezk was quiet for a time, tired of being interrupted.


"Yes. As you said, that Huerta Memorial. I assume this won't be a problem for an individual in your current circumstance?" Krezk was unsure of what exactly the human was, but he seemed desperate, and Krezk had seen some of the wonders humans could work through desperation. Krezk watched the strange human, PIckle's eyes rapidly moving back and forth without focus, planning or thinking at a rapid pace.


"Fine. Gimme' the names, I'll be back with your list." Pickle held out his arm, his omnitool glowing. Krezk activated his omnitool with a wave and transferred the data package in the same gesture. Pickle nodded in confirmation before stepping wordlessly from the tent. He began making his way to the nearest public transit terminal.


_______________________________________


"Dead simple when you think about it, isn't it." Vyra said.


She listened to Jaxon rant, wondering if all the arm-crossing and leaning back and forth was some kind of nervous habit. Perhaps he thought it lent his words a sense of gravitas. There had to be some reason why he acted like the worst parts of every action movie hero rolled into one. Vyra pushed past these thoughts. Doubt would do no good here. Doubt had stymied the Council for too long already. Jaxon's passion would help him in uncovering what had happened, she just hoped the Liutenant had the spine to rein in the worst of it.


"Anyway, of course it would need to be more than just you, but that's how Spectre's operate, right? The way I understand it you've got quite a few positions that need to be filled now, haven't you?" It was a callous way to refer to the Spectre's deceased crew, but she saw no reason to tip-toe around the issue as he'd probably respond poorly to any type of sympathy.


"And you're right, it might make a lot of politicians unhappy, but politicians aren't exactly people. Believe me." Vyra stared out into the Presidium. Her chest heaved a wistful sigh.


"So if you're both on board, ready to stop talking and actually start helping, let me know." She leaned forward, fixing her steely eyes on the two humans as she interlaced her clawed hands.

 

[Voices]

Verena jolted upright, trying to get her bearings. She was on a cot in a hospital that was bursting at the seams with patients, panicking civilians, and overworked doctors and nurses.


A sharp pain ran up her left side, and she looked down to see it bandaged heavily. A flustered Salarian doctor rushed over to her side, pulling out a datapad.


"Ma'am, now that you're awake, we have some questions for you if would be so cooperative," he said quickly.


Verena placed her pounding head in a taloned hand. "I'm sorry, where am I exactly? The ship... the Majesty... there was an accident. What happened?" she aksed, her agitation apparent in the metallic flanging of her voice.


The doctor flipped a few pages on his clipboard as he explained, "Ah. You're in Huerta Memorial Hospital on the Citadel. The crash caused explosions and therefore, heavy shrapnel. You had some embedded into your left side there. We removed it and bandaged you up. I'd recommend limited movement just in case those wounds open up again, though," he paused, glancing up at her.


She nodded, letting her gaze lift from the floor to those around her much more injured that she. Waking up in a place like this mad her skin crawl. It felt too familiar. "Your questions?" she offered, meeting his eyes.


"Ah, yes. Well, the identification you had with you on your person didn't match anything in C-Sec's databases. We simply need to know if you've ever been to the Citadel before," he asked.


"No," Verena answered quickly. "I haven't. I'm from Palaven originally and have recently been travelling back and forth from Omega and Illium on business. I haven't had a break in years, so the Majesty was a sort of... vacation. Courtesy of my employer."


The doctor recorded her information on the datapad as she spoke, then looked up at her again, "Yes, thank you. Now, is there anyone we should contact to let them know where you are? Family, friends?"


Verena's mandibles flared slightly at the inquiry. "No," she replied dryly and without another word.


There was a moment of dead space between the two as the doctor surveyed her quietly. "Very well," he said. "I'm going to need you to go down to C-Sec headquarters to be registered on the Citadel. If you feel well enough, that is."


"I feel fine," she pushed herself up off of the cot, her lean frame towering over the doctor.


He cleared this throat, "They're holding your personal effects, such as your weapons and armor. I've just sent your information to them."


"Thanks," Verena said curtly, turning away from him. She pushed her way through the stuffy hospital, dodging species of every kind that were rushing this way and that for different reasons.


The Turian stepped out of the hospital and took in a deep breath. She hadn't realized she'd been practically holding her breath the whole time. The small lounge waiting area outside of the hospital was almost equally as full as the inside, and she cringed at the sight. Turning her gaze to the large windows lining the room, she was immediately startled.


Verena had seen pictures of the Citadel, but being on it was different entirely. Where the hell was she?

 

[Halluxenogen]

Clearly, the officer had no concern of her false predicament.


The quarian squinted, "Ah…yes ma'am, excuse me for wasting your time."


A hefty weight fell off her shoulders as the authority dismissed her and went back to work. Her face contorted into a sneer while frustration was quickly snuffed, but her usually lengthy patience was wearing thin. Yenne mumbled under her breath, imitating the motion of rubbing her forehead the best she could with her mask on.


When was the last time she had popped one? She counted four months now, but had promised herself restriction from the guilty pleasures.


From the corner of her helmet she spotted the man from earlier withdrawing from the tent with a satisfied look on his face and what looked to be a plan on his mind.


"At long last," she breathed with content. A new atmosphere was much needed. She did not need the discomfort of the wounded to add to her own. Briskly, she turned on her heel and made her way towards him.


Upon catching up, Yenne intercepted his path to the terminal and placed her three-fingered hand on his arm to catch the bizarre human's attention. She let go and stepped back as soon as she thought she had it. The man had a height advantage that irked her the just slightest bit. Comparatively not as skyscraping as Quilibet.


"Couldn't help but notice the scene between you and the krogan," Yenne explained in a flurry of whispers, "in fact I'm almost certain half the field camp noticed you. Dauntless," she continued, sizing him up, taking note of the bags under his eyes.


She recalled a human custom and extended her hand, "Yenne'Jalas nar Xuji." Of course, she was stepping outside of her relatively small comfort zone, approaching a stranger in this manner.


"I'm looking for details of the occurrence with The Majesty, too. Though perhaps not as frenzied. I could help you," Yenne added, "would want to."

 

[Surain]

Don was in the Huerta memorial waiting lounge, typing away furiously at his omni-tool. "Alright... sent. Tell me when you get it." he spoke into his suits comm, getting a few seconds of silence in return.


"Received. You can come back to headquarters now, we could use your in help reconstructing the explosion."


"Affirmative, I'll be back soon." Don replied quickly and waiting until the call ended. "...you ignorant, glorified little bosh'tet." he added quietly. This was ridiculous. Don was a quarian—an expert in ship repair and computer science. He had been a scientist on the flotilla, and he had researched on one of the most advanced private research vessels of it's time. He should be in the headquarters right now, doing his job—salvaging whatever data could be recovered from the ship and trying to figure out what caused the explosion.


And yet, thanks to the head investigator, he was in the hospital questioning the survivors.


That went about as well as he had thought it would. Most of them had been hesitant to even speak with him, and he hardly could blame them with the recent suspicion cast the flotilla. It was just another reason he should be back at headquarters, arguing with his coworkers about the most probable cause of the explosion, and not here, trying to control himself in the sight of so many injured innocents.


As he began walking out of the waiting area, he carefully avoided looking at any of the patients. It was horrifying, but that word doesn't do the situation justice; this was probably the second-worst thing he had ever seen. Limbless children, permanently disabled adults, mourning family—that, come to think of it, should probably be moved elsewhere to conserve space for actual patients—littered the floors like trash on a poorly kept street. Doctors and nurses buzzed around in the most prominent display of organised chaos he had ever seen, excluding that krogan doctor, who—actually, where was he? He was by the door a few minutes ago. It seems strange that he would leave his patients, what with being so adamant earlier—


Don barely managed to stop himself from walking into a turian. He really needed to pay more attention to where he was going. "Oh, er, excuse me miss." he apologized, and backed up a few steps. Was she okay? It was obvious that she was a patient here, what with the massive bandage on her side, but that didn't worry him; it was more the look of bewildered alarm she had as she stared out a window. Had she even noticed him? "...miss? Do you need any help?"

 

[Voices]

A voice in very near proximity to Verena shook her from her stare. She turned quickly to see a Quarian standing next to her. She ran a taloned hand across the top of her cowl, feeling overwhelmed.


"I.. I suppose I do. The Salarian doctor inside told me to go to the C-Sec headquarters to be registered. But obviously, I have no idea where I am," Verena explained. Her heartbeat quickened slightly as a wave of injured patients were rushed past them into the hospital, and she had to look away.


She looked back at the Quarian after a beat, "Everything is overwhelming here. I apologize if I'm inconveniencing you, but--"


A man was rushed by on a gurney, accompanied by yelling doctors. The stentch of blood and burning flesh invaded Verena, and she stumbled backwards in horror at it's familiarity.


"I'm sorry," she gasped at the Quarian, shaking her head, "I have to get out of here."


Verena began to walk toward the door, her legs weak and head pounding. She didn't make it far before she stumbled and then caught herself on a chair. Feeling defeated, she stopped and put her head in her hands. She just wanted to get away from all of this.

 

[Surain]

Don listened intently, even as a gurney and some doctors grabbed his attention as they rushed by barely a foot away from the pair. He made a face behind his faceplate, something between disgust and pity, before turning back to look at the turian.


Keelah, she looked ready to faint. An assurance was on his tongue before he could even think about it, "Miss, it isn't—" Don reached out with his hand as she turned away from him, but she was too quick as she made for the exit like the hospital was on fire.


That lasted all of four steps, and she soon collapsed into a chair and covered her head. The qurian hesitated, putting a three-fingered hand on the back of his hood for a moment, but quickly decided to make his way over to her. He wasn't sure what to do, having never been in a situation like this, but he had to try to help her somehow.


"Miss?" he asked quietly, crouching in front of her. He gave her some time to collect herself, not speaking again until she looked up at him. She was overwhelmed, and pushing her to respond didn't seem like a good idea.


After she seemed to calm down, he continued. "Miss, if you let me, I can take you to C-sec headquarters." he said gently, holding out his hand. "It's not an inconvenience. Please, let me help you."

 

[Voices]

Good first impression, Verena cursed herself. She was beyond frustrated with her blatant lack of self control. You just survived a traumatic event. Of course you're a little off. That's it, she thought decidedly. Idly, one of her hands traveled up to the right side of her neck, grazing over a heavily faded bite-mark shaped scar there. Her talons hovered for a moment, and then she shook her head, took the Quarian's hand, and stood up.


"I would.. appreciate that. Thank you," she nodded shortly, then cleared her throat, "Excuse my behavior. That's atypical of me. I'm--"


She stopped herself quickly. Nobody knew her here, so did she want to keep it that way? Verena's eyes darted around quickly to the heavy security crawling everywhere, and also remembered the registration system this place had in order. There was no way she could keep a low profile on a place like this anyway, so she may as well start making friends. Especially if she was looking to help out with this tragic happening, or at least get to the bottom of why the disaster occurred in the first place. This C-Sec sounded like a good place to start.


Her eyes returned to the Quarian. "My name is Verena. Again, I appreciate the help. I'm just a little disoriented," she said , attempting a slightly warmer tone. She realized that she'd been horribly short and distant with both the doctor and this Quarian. A poor start if she was looking to start fresh with people who didn't know her.


Social skills are going to be an obstacle, she thought to herself with a mental sigh, and couldn't remember the last time she spoke to someone who wasn't an employer. Or Tevius, the back of her mind echoed. She quickly dismissed it.

 

[Surain]

"It's completely understandable, Verena, given the circumstances," replied the quarian after giving her a moment to compose herself. Their surroundings alone were almost enough to give him a panic attack. It reminded him a little too much of what happened with the last frigate he had been on.


Don, stop that and focus on what you're doing, he thought, shaking his head to clear it.


"My name is Don'Holan vas Rayya, but please, call me Don," he said, smiling under his faceplate. "And I actually work at C-sec headquarters, so it really is no problem." If it were, he might've just left her alone. Or not. Could he get away with being late with, 'I was helping a disoriented civilian' as an excuse? I should look that up later.





Don began to lead her out of the waiting area, slowly at first, but faster as she proved she could keep pace. The Citadel was massive, but that was taken care of with the rapid transport systems. Of course, they could walk to headquarters... and lose about an hour of their day in the process, if they really wanted to. Don certainly didn't.


But even the walk to the nearest docking bay seemed to take an eternity and a half to the quarian, who was only now fully realising two things: he was actually going to do something useful for the case when he got back, and a traumatized, possibly unstable, unregistered civilian's well-being depending on him. Keelah.


A civilian, he thought, who might like to be distracted.


"So... I take it you've never been on the Citadel before?" A reasonable question. A solid question. If she had, she would be registered. Why, then, did that sound so incredibly stupid coming out of his mouth? Xara would die laughing at me if she could see this. Me, working for C-sec, trying to make small talk with a stranger? And I thought working with the geth was strange...

 

[RedCrow]

Seeing as Jaxon and Andromeda had yet to move or say anything in protest, Vyra felt it was safe to assume they were on board with her idea.


"Right, well then, there are a few places where you could start investigating but I'd recommend starting at Huerta Memorial. It's where a good number of survivors are being treated, maybe there's someone there who knows something. C-Sec is probably worth visiting as well, I know they've got teams looking into the disaster. I've also heard tell of a doctor set up in the Wards who was on the ship." Vyra's omnitool lit up as she paid her bill. She stood up and slid her chair in.


"I'm not one for rousing speeches, so I'm not about to try and give one. An atrocity has been committed, and you two are in the best position to figure out why. I trust you'll bring the perpetrators to justice." Vyra quickly turned away and marched off, wondering if she had really made the best decision, hoping the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was just nerves.


______________________________________


He recoiled from her touch as if her hand were red-hot metal, yanking his arm away and pivoting to face her, fixing his dead eyes on her face plate. Go for the mask, easy handhold, one quick twist, toss the body over the railing, be on your way- he shut his eyes tight and shook his head. When he opened his eyes she was holding her hand out to him. Seize the fingers for control, snap the arm against itself- he took a deep breath. He didn't shake her hand. She'd been speaking this whole time and he hadn't heard a word of it. She said something about help. Help with what, the mission?


"I can't pay you." was the first thing he said. Ever the mercenary, compensation was what concerned him most. Of course, the bigger question was why had she been spying on him, and why did she want to help in the first place? He could speculate all he wanted, but it would do little good. He could ask her, but she'd probably just lie to him.


"But if you're willing to work for free, then fine. Two things though, one; don't ever touch me, two; don't ever touch me. Now that we're clear on that, stay in front and step lightly." he said. There was no way he'd let some stranger walk behind him. She'd probably plug him twice in the back of the head and leave his body in some alley. He didn't know this girl, they weren't friends or partners, and he didn't owe her a damn thing, but at the very least she might make a decent distraction. They made it to a transit station and took one of the public skycars to the station nearest Huerta Memorial. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, but had nothing to say. He was perfectly comfortable with the idea of remaining strangers.


"Hospital's that way." he said as he stepped from the car. He noticed a turian who looked like she needed about a weeks worth of bed rest and a quarian who, judging by the set of his shoulders, was quite stressed about something. Whatever they were on about, it wasn't his business.


"C'mon, let's go." he pounded the side of the skycar with his fist as he waited on the quarian.

 

[Halluxenogen]

That'd be the last time she would try human etiquette.


She let her hand slump back to her side and with a mutual feeling, she accepted his "rules." Just like that, huh? The man was quick and straight to the point; maybe her efforts wouldn't be in vain. Stay in front and step lightly, Yenne mocked with an eye roll, bosh'tet. Though if she had been in his shoes, she might have requested the same. She compliantly walked in front of him to quench his paranoiac thirst. The ride was kept in a silence that was much appreciated.


Without Quilibet near her side and a Widow to her back, she felt like she was missing something. Felt vulnerable. Maybe it had something to do with his constant staring. The passenger's view of the illuminated skyline did not help, but thorough checks to her pack and omni-tool appeased her.


Arriving near their location, she dismissed her tool and hopped out the vehicle. Little did she appreciate the man's haste. He was definitely much older, but that gave him no reason to treat her like she was a child. "Right, right," she snapped in response. She'd have to get that "nar" changed to "vas" soon.


It was only now did she realized that she still didn't know his name nor where she was. The Presidium was an excellent social hub to keep one's ears open, though she had never been to these parts and never had a reason to.


Yenne followed the man's line of sight to a turian and another quarian in the background, but switched her focus back to him, "I'd ask you to lead the way but I'm slightly discouraged by your judgement. You impetuously let a stranger hop in a skycar with you."


But she didn't see the point in complaining. The quarian changed her tone, laced with snark. "What's the plan?" Shifting from foot to foot, she faced him and waited.

 

[Graverobber141]

Jaxon's nose flared a bit at the mention of his lost crew, but he merely grunted in response, looking off to focus on something in the distance, anything in the distance. His right hand lifted subconsciously to feel the scar on his cheek. Clenching his fist as he listened to the diplomat's suggestions, he kept on drumming his foot against the ground. He had submitted to the fact that this was happening, that it needed to happen. He didn't like it, but that was how the galaxy worked. Now, he just wanted to get moving, instead of just sitting here and 'looking pretty'.


"Good. Speeches are a waste of time," he muttered as Jorren marched off, repeating quietly under his breath, "Huetra." He scratched his head before reaching for his coffee cup to finish the beverage. Once done, he stood from the table. "I guess that's where I'm starting." He paused, looking at his reluctant partner. "We're starting?" He asked it like a question, shrugging. "Unless if you want to check out C-Sec, but everyone knows how useful they are."


He didn't wait for an answer. He tossed his cup into a trash can and started to walk off, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Once he had reached the transit station, he slid into the car, taking off with or without Andi to fly to the hospital.


When he arrived, he stepped outside the car and straightened his back, running through his two goals in his mind. First, find a lead on the attack. Two, find some people who could hold a gun to form a crew to tackle this mission. His eyes glanced other those around him. There was a human who looked impatient and had a quarian at his side. Further back, another quarian and turian. The second looked like she'd been in the bombing. He approached the second pair, giving the first a look over as he passed them by.


"Hey. You two." He spoke with purpose, fixing his gaze on the female turian. "You, in particular. I'm wondering if you could tell me anything about the attack? Anything at all. I've been sent to track down the assholes who did this, and at this point, any information you have is better than nothing."

 

[Voices]

As soon as they left the hospital, Verena drew in a huge breath of relief and her strides became immediately more confident. She surveyed bustling civilians as she and the Quarian, Don, passed them. She attempted to take in as much information as she possibly could. Every few seconds they would pass debris or a crash site, and she watched the C-Sec guards and detectives buzz around them, omni-tools flickering and beeping frantically as they studied and reported.


Abruptly, Verena realized Don was making a feeble attempt at small talk with her, asking the most obvious question possible. Her mandibles flared slightly in amusement. She turned her wandering gaze to him, "Yes, it is. I've seen pictures, but I never expected it to be so... massive. It takes a person by surprise."


Verena looked back up to see a rugged-looking male human approaching them. He looked slightly frustrated, and didn't seem in the mood for any shenanigans. They paused as he marched straight to them, quickly firing off a question in her direction.


"My name is Verena Dectus. I was on the Majesty when the explosions occurred," Verena said evenly as she crossed her arms, feeling naked without her armor or weapons. The civilian clothes she'd been given were far from her taste as well. "I was on a lower deck, near the engine rooms. That's where the original explosions went off. If somebody was really behind this and planted explosives, they were smart about it. Made it look like there was an engine malfunction, but multiple at once was a mistake. It's almost impossible for that to happen, and for the explosions to be so seemingly equal in size, leading me to believe they were, in fact, planted." She paused, watching the human for a moment before continuing, "Shrapnel and debris flew everywhere, and that caused more damage. Fires started spreading quickly, too. Alarms started sounding, and evacuation shuttles were prepped. I'm sure many people were also injured in the stampede to escape the ship. During the chaos there were a few more explosions happening, but I can't exactly remember where they were coming from. It was a shit show in there."


Verena shook her head and turned her gaze to the floor briefly before looking back up to meet the human's eyes, her mandibles twitching ever so slightly. Spirits, now that I think back on it, it was worse in there than I thought.