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
The airlock cycle had never taken this long before. Both of them stank so horribly that even the violent torrent of repressurization wasn’t able to blow it off and away from Saren’s nostrils. Disgusting damp swamp.
He hated dampness with a passion. He hated wet clothes, wet skin, wet planets. He hated sweating, sinking knee-deep in opaque green puddles of suspicious appearance, he hated being sprayed with mud while pushing the back of the lander (it was a damn lander how the hell did a lander manage to get stuck it was the driver wasn’t it it’s his fault it’s all his damn fault).
But most of all, he hated when people didn’t listen to him. When people were trying to sound smart instead of trying to be smart. When people failed to recognize the signs even when he intentionally broadcasted them on all the damn frequencies. When people who knew him pretended they didn’t. When people thought that because he wasn’t in a talkative mood it meant that he was immune to the muck they had both been wading through for hours. Gah!
Continue reading Unnerved and Unnerving
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
Well, shit. It’s true: Valern is the name of the salarian councilor, and the turian councilor is named Sparatus. Never mind that abomination. Why, oh why didn’t Bioware tell us this before? Would it have been so damn difficult to just come out and say so on the forums or whatever? Bah. Massive retcons in sight. I think I mention the turian councilor in every goddamn story I have out there.
I know I said there would be weekly updates and breaking this promise is breaking my heart. But I’ve reached the point where I’m reduced to preparing chapters a day or two before posting, which puts my beloved beta readers and myself under too much pressure and is certainly doing no favors for the text. I chose to do this now because I’m hoping that most readers will be too absorbed in playing Mass Effect 3 to even notice. Yes, I will be playing it as well during the break. I will also try to finish and post at least two short stories that had been put on hold a long, long time ago in favor of this one.
The story continues on either the next Sunday (March 18), or the one after. To get a notification, subscribe to my rss, or my twitter, or add Ghost in the Machine to your story alerts at FFN.
Thank you for your time, interest and patience.