Nihlus didn’t know what to make of the fact that every single waitress in the Den recognized him. He had no memory of any of them. He downed a shot of quarian tequila, then asked for the whole bottle and settled into one of the secluded booths in the back. The slow rhythm of the music – drell, as far as he could tell – was resonating with his vocal cavity in a pleasant, dreamy way. For the first time since setting foot on the Normandy, he could relax, let his head roll back, let his eyes focus on infinity. With each drag from the bottle, he was feeling more and more like doing exactly what Saren had suggested: forgetting any commitment ‘he thought he owed him’ and reliving one of the hottest experiences of his youth: Garrus Vakarian.
Continue reading Persuasion
Shepard watched Nihlus stalk away with the Councilors. She was concerned. He looked like shit. His eyes were foggy, his voice lacked its usual strength, and his movements were sluggish. Two days had passed since Eden Prime; he wasn’t getting any better and attending the hearing had probably drained him of his last reserves. He excused himself from the company and went behind a door. The restroom.
Continue reading Played
Garrus stood in front of the Council Chambers for a long time after Nihlus had disappeared within. His omni was open, and Dad’s picture was staring at him from the contact list, with that signature frown furrowing his thick browplates. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the heart-warming greeting that would open the conversation – “What do you need now?” Or maybe a “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something important.”
Continue reading Off With the Gloves
The hall echoed with their heavy footsteps in the perpetual violet twilight. Nihlus felt as if he were walking through a dream. Everything had a halo of unreality about it. The ancient trees with leaves of gold and brown, never touched by the autumn winds. The deserted paths, watched over by ghosts of countless generations. The glass chasm dividing the pleaders from the judges. But the most unreal of all was the life-sized holo of Saren in the witness stand, shimmering in the distance.
Continue reading The Hearing
Garrus was leading a drunken krogan by the cuffed hands to a padded cell when a familiar smiling face showed up on the news-holo in the main hall of the C-Sec compound. He smiled back at it; no time to listen to the news report now, but he made a mental note to look it up on the extranet later.
Continue reading Obsession
Saren froze in mid-motion, listening. He was in his room – a small chamber near the bridge, divided from Sovereign’s “main artery” by a thin, improvised door. Benezia was moving about on the bridge. Pacing to and fro. Then she stilled, and he resumed the inspection, manipulating the camera remotely from the workstation and observing the feed on the screen. Two mirrors would have done a much better job, but he had none. Asking Benezia to lend him hers would have invited too many questions. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He didn’t want her to know about his strange thoughts, strange suspicions. All he wanted was five minutes of peace to see what the hell was that thing on his back, but apparently it was too much to ask for. Always someone watching. Always someone listening.
Continue reading Nine