by Joan Jett
I heard excited comment out in the ready room, but it held no meaning for me. I ignored everything but my body and my opponent.
Again she came in, fast and aggressive, this time trying to grapple. I felt myself going over, grabbed and twisted, pulling her off her feet as well. She nearly got me in an elbow lock, but at the last moment I got the leverage I needed to break out of it. I tried to lever her over with my legs, but instead she did something I didn't quite catch, firmly pinning both my shoulders. I slapped the mat again.
This time I stopped trying to directly match her skill in the human style. Instead I concentrated on being asari, like water, all form and fluid motion. She didn't quite know what to do with an opponent who suddenly proved very effective at getting out of the way. I led her around the ring, catching glimpses of our audience along the way: Private Fredericks staring avidly, Detective Vakarian watching with expert interest, Shepard looking very dour with his arms folded.
Ashley left me an opening.
At once I reached out and redirected her momentum, twisting my body and sending her flying across the ring to land on her back. I followed up with a loud shout and a mimed hammer-blow to her throat. "Ai!"
Ashley's eyes flew wide, but she slapped the mat and rose to her feet.
A point for the little scientist. Surprised?
She learned more caution after that, still aggressive but very alert, clearly not about to make the same mistake twice. The fourth fall took the longest of them all. She spent several minutes feinting and advancing, trying to distract me so I would miss a dodge or a block. Several times she tried to turn one of my blocks into a grapple, knowing her superior strength and speed would give her the advantage, but each time I was able to break away and open the distance once again.
Suddenly I sensed the moment when I could take the initiative. "Ai!" I shouted again, and went on the attack for the first time, throwing a flurry of blows at her face and head. For just a moment, she put her arms up rigidly to protect her face.
Rigidity is always a mistake. I seized her arms and applied leverage, throwing her onto her back and landing on her with all my weight. She twisted and struggled, but I was able to pin her shoulders.
"Point!" shouted Kaidan.
Complete silence in the ready room, except for the sound of Ashley slapping the mat.
She stared at me as she rose to her feet, her expression completely blank and her eyes very cold on mine.
We resumed.
Again I held open the distance, dodging and deflecting attacks, waiting for Ashley to make some mistake. I feared I would have a long wait.
I was wrong. About fifteen seconds into the round, Ashley telegraphed an attack. I moved gracefully to the right to avoid it . . . and she anticipated me. Her left fist flew out in a powerful uppercut, completely unblocked, connecting directly with my chin. It felt like the impact of a sledgehammer. I saw stars, my knees buckled, and I went down stunned.
The ready room erupted in cheers and shouting.
After a moment I pushed myself back to my feet, shaking my head slightly to make sure nothing had come loose. I saw Shepard stalking toward the ring, his face like a thundercloud, and knew I had to act at once.
I pulled a glove off and extended my hand to Ashley. "Thank you."
She blinked in surprise, but she also removed her glove to shake my hand. "What for?"
"For showing me how much I still have to learn. How did you do that?"
"Patterns. You were moving to my left too often while you did that asari dodging thing. Which I have to admit was pretty effective, until I figured it out. Reminded me of an aikido match I saw once."
I gave her a guileless stare. "Alexei has been helping me with close-quarters drill, but I think I would benefit from more advanced instruction. Would you be willing to teach me?"
She hesitated for a long moment, somehow aware that I had turned her gambit back upon itself. "Sure, Liara, I'd be happy to."
"Thank you. Now I had better go wash up." I gave Shepard the slightest glance as I left the ring. See, no need to intervene.
He must have received the message, although he exchanged a look with Kaidan that promised a serious discussion in the near future.
* * *
When I emerged from the showers and walked out into the staging bay, I found Shepard deep in conversation with Urdnot Wrex.
I had spent very little time with the krogan since arriving aboard the Normandy. To be honest, when I was young I felt very anxious around krogan, regarding them as little more than bloodthirsty barbarians. Something of an irony, given what I later learned about my own ancestry. In the years that followed, Wrex and I became close friends, I learned a great deal about the krogan people, and I came to regret my earlier prejudice.
"Come on, Shepard," the krogan said as I approached. "You have any idea how many krogan died to beat the rachni the first time? Then I hear that you found a queen and let her go? You bet I was pissed off."
"I couldn't just kill her,” said Shepard calmly. “She seemed willing to let go of the past, go off into some galactic backwater and stay out of trouble."
"Yeah, and that worked so well the last time. Sure hope you don't end up needing the krogan to put them down again, because there aren't that many left of us."
"It's done, Wrex. There's no way to change it now."
"I suppose. But I think you owe me a favor, if you want my sunny disposition back."
"What is it?"
"There's someone I've been trying to find for years now. A renegade turian named Tonn Actus. Last lead I had said he was on Tuntau . . . which just happens to be in the star system next on your patrol route."
"Why are you after him?"
The krogan turned away, leaning on one hand against the workbench behind him, his broad back to us. "I told you about my father."
Shepard nodded grimly.
It must have been an unpleasant story, I thought.
"After that, after I left Tuchanka . . . well, I spent centuries forgetting that I ever had a family. Your family never quite forgets you, though. Jarrod may have gotten stupid, but before that he was one of the great leaders of the Krogan Rebellions. Before that there was Garath."
"Warlord Garath was your ancestor?" I asked, startled out of silence.
Wrex turned to peer at me. "Yeah. Urdnot Garath. My grandfather."
"Garath was very famous," I explained for Shepard's benefit. "When the salarians first contacted the krogan, Garath was already one of the most powerful warlords on Tuchanka. He ruled directly over about one-tenth of the planet's habitable surface, and indirectly controlled twice that again. He negotiated with salarian contact teams and got some of the best deals: new worlds to colonize, leadership in the Rachni Wars, modern technology."
Wrex nodded in agreement. "Yeah. That was when Clan Urdnot was a power to be reckoned with, and not a few dozen useless mercs scattered across half the galaxy."
"What does this have to do with Tonn Actus?" asked Shepard.
"After the turians beat us down in the Rebellions, for a long time krogan weren't allowed to have weapons or armor. They took a lot of what we had and destroyed the rest. One of the things they took was a set of battle armor belonging to my family’s chief. It was a relic. Useless against modern weapons, really. But five generations of my ancestors kept it before Garath died in the Rebellions. It's rightfully mine, and before I left I swore an oath on my grandfather's grave that I would get it back. Tonn Actus has it."
"How did he get it?"
"He's turian scum who collects relics from the war. He's made millions selling krogan artifacts that were stolen from my people."
"I see. Hey, Garrus!"
The turian turned away from where he was performing maintenance on the Mako, looking in our direction. "What do you need, Commander?"
"Does the name Tonn Actus mean anything to you?"
"Hmm." Garrus opened his omni-tool and paged through several files. "Yeah, here he is. Not a nice guy.
Wanted in both the Turian Hierarchy and the Systems Alliance for murder, piracy, and grand theft."
Shepard nodded. "How would you like a chance to take him down?"
"Sure thing."
"All right, Wrex, we'll look for this guy on Tuntau."
Wrex looked unhappy. "Do we have to bring the turian?"
"Yes, we have to bring the turian. It's a law-enforcement matter. But if your family heirloom is there, it's yours."
The krogan gave a long-suffering sigh. "Shepard."
"So long, Wrex."
* * *
We arrived at Tuntau that evening. Sensors detected a small installation on the surface, well-hidden and tucked into a small crater. A clear landing zone lay less than a kilometer away. We didn’t yet have an upgraded Mako, but Shepard decided to attack in force regardless.
Normandy came in very low. The staging bay door opened, and our entire combat crew "hit the dirt." Shepard led us from inside the Mako, with Ashley and Petty Officer Bayard also inside the vehicle and Wrex riding atop the hull. Detective Vakarian led half of the Marines on the left flank, with Tali in his fire-team. Kaidan led the rest of us on the right flank, with me close at hand to support his biotics with my own if needed.
Tuntau is a very strange world, massive but almost completely devoid of iron or any heavier metals. Deep oceans batter the scattered outcrops of solid land, unstable mini-continents that constantly rumble with tectonic activity. Silicate rocks crunch underfoot, layered with bright sodium and sulfur deposits from the planet’s many volcanoes. Noble gases like helium and neon make up most of the dense atmosphere. One sees no sign at all of life; the planet is only about a hundred million years old, far too young to have evolved even the simplest living organisms.
The Mako moved forward slowly, so that those of us on foot could keep up and support the AFV. We had little trouble with the terrain, but the wind turned out to be a challenge. Over three standard atmospheres of pressure meant that even a low breeze carried considerable authority. Most of us had to walk slowly, hunched over to keep our balance.
Up ahead we saw the wall of the crater in which Tonn Actus had placed his habitat. A notch in the wall promised easy access.
"This is Shepard," came a voice in our helmets. "No sign of active radar or heavy-weapons turrets. Ground-penetrating radar doesn't show any mines or booby traps. We're going to move ahead through the notch and deal with any snipers or guards. Kaidan, Garrus, lead your teams up behind us."
"Copy that."
"You got it."
The Mako surged ahead, zooming up the gentle slope into the defile. Almost immediately we heard the thunder of fire from the main and coaxial guns, incredibly loud in the dense air. Every time the main gun fired I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.
"All targets down," reported Ashley moments later.
A few minutes later we emerged into the crater to find the Mako idling, Shepard and the others already standing by the habitat's main entrance waiting for us.
"Okay, so far this looks as if we brought a nuke to a gunfight," said Shepard. I could hear laughter from all sides. "It doesn't matter. You know what to do. Stay sharp and don't screw up, or I will personally kick your asses all the way back to the Citadel."
"OO-rah!" shouted every Marine at once. It was sudden, and so unexpected – to me at least – that I felt a rush of fright.
Then Tali hacked the airlock into a full-open state, and two atmospheres of positive pressure blew into the space beyond with incredible force. As soon as the wind died down, Wrex charged in with Shepard and Ashley at his back. The rest of us followed as best we could.
Gunfire thundered.
Wrex shouted, "There's the scum. Let's get him!"
I followed Kaidan in, a biotic barrier in place, and took a fraction of a second to look around.
Wrex charged across the floor, throwing a sphere of dark energy ahead of him, crashing into the figure of a turian in pitch-black armor. Shepard and the rest of the Marines put down a withering field of fire. I took cover and found that there was very little for me to do.
The krogan roared, a horrible sound on the helmet radios, and discharged his shotgun into the turian's face-plate at point-blank range. Blue paste splashed back out of the helmet. I cringed.
"Check fire, check fire!" shouted Shepard.
Silence fell. I realized that I hadn't even drawn my sidearm.
"Anyone hurt?"
"I think I've got a piece of dust in my eye," said one of the Marines. Private Fredericks, I thought it was.
"Anyone seriously hurt?" Shepard asked again, more amusement than annoyance in his voice.
Nobody answered.
"All right, I want an inventory of everything that's in storage here. No souvenir hunting. There may be artifacts of historical importance, and they don't belong to us. Kaidan, see to it."
"Aye-aye."
"Wrex, let's see what's in this office back here."
I followed Shepard and Wrex as they moved back to what appeared to be the commander's office. Sure enough, we found locked display cases and crates, full of armor, helmets, weapons, battle standards, badges, all manner of memorabilia from wars fought over a thousand years before. I sat down at a computer terminal and soon found an inventory.
"Case Gamma, third shelf from the top," I told them.
"Can you open the lock?" asked Shepard.
I worked with the computer for a few more moments, locating the controls for the secure storage units. Three keystrokes later I heard a lock click open behind me.
"There we go," said Wrex reflectively. He reached up and pulled a massive bin out of the storage unit, setting it gently on the desk. He opened the lid. Inside was a suit of plate armor, forged of steel, with stylized ornaments of silver and gold. Wrex reached in and produced a war mask, crafted to fit a krogan face, alarming in its wide-mouthed ferocity.
"Is that it?"
"Look at that," said Wrex, setting the mask aside and pointing to one of the stylized decorations on the breastplate. "That's an old Urdnot sigil. This is it, all right. Hard to believe my ancestors ever wore this crap."
"It's yours, Wrex. The rest of all this is going into storage on the Normandy, and then we'll see about returning it to its rightful owners."
"I appreciate the thought, Shepard, but I'm not sure how that will work. There's no krogan government to keep track of who has claim to any of this. I bet all that will happen is that the clans get one more reason to come to blows."
"The University of Serrice operates an archaeological trust for the preservation and repatriation of stolen artifacts," I pointed out. "I have worked with them before. If you think you could put your faith in an off-world institution, they would be able to keep these relics secure until the rightful owners came forward with a claim."
"Hmm. What do you think, Shepard? I don't know if I trust this university, but I guess I trust you a little. If you think it might work . . ."
"It's worth a try, Wrex."
"All right. I suppose having a bunch of asari academics watching over this stuff is going to be better than letting turian thieves make a fortune selling it." His voice became bitter. "Conquered people don't get to choose what happens to their culture anyway."
For the first time I felt a pang of sympathy for the big krogan. "I'm sorry, Wrex."
"Sorry doesn't change anything. But thanks, I guess."
Chapter 16 : Consort
25 March 2183, Citadel
I frowned at the message: very short and written in tastefully archaic asari, the kind of language one normally heard only in Expansion-era period dramas.
Dr. Liara T'Soni,
There are matters which we must discuss. Please make time to meet with me as soon as you disembark upon the Citadel. I will postpone any appointments necessary to facilitate our discussion.
Sha'ira
I knew who Sha'ira was, of course. The entire galaxy knew who she was.
Consorts, hetairai, have been a social in
stitution among my people for thousands of years. We asari find many ways to excel in life. Some of us farm and care for the land, some of us work in the sciences, some of us design and maintain technology, some serve as commandos, some teach the young, some debate in the Assembly . . . and some of us entertain others through beauty, sophistication, wit, practical psychology, and sensual indulgence.
This profession has degrees of excellence, as with any other. For every thousand wild young maidens stripping down to dance on a stage, one might find a single stylish hetaira managing a salon for the benefit of affluent clients. For every thousand ordinary hetairai, you might find one celebrated Consort who selects her clientele only from among the extremely wealthy and powerful.
Sha'ira stood at the pinnacle of her calling, unique in all the galaxy.
At the time of the Reaper invasion, she had reached the age of six hundred and had spent centuries refining her craft. She had enjoyed the status of a fixture on the Citadel since long before I was born. Her clientele included some of the most important beings in the galaxy. She had absolutely no formal power, and yet almost immeasurable informal influence. It would normally take several months and thousands of credits simply to gain an appointment with one of her acolytes, much less the Consort herself.
Sha'ira wanted to see me, as soon as possible. She was willing to clear her calendar to see me.
It might have been terrifying if it hadn't been so absurd.
Nevertheless I could hardly turn down the invitation. I sent a reply ahead, giving Joker's best estimate for our arrival time at the Citadel. As soon as Normandy docked I changed into civilian clothing and took a cab to the Presidium.
The Consort's salon took up the bottom three floors of a prestigious commercial building, directly across from the Human Embassy. Even the exterior spoke of aesthetic delight. A green park with terraces and fountains drew the eye up a shallow staircase to a colonnaded entryway. When I entered, all noise from outside vanished and a dignified silence fell. Sha'ira could apparently afford a very good sound-dampening system.