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Unlikely Rescue	By : mancer Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 1744 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: While original characters are the author's own, all canon characters, species, locations, etc are from Mass Effect and belong to Bioware. The author makes no profit from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Unlikely Rescue
- 1
Author's note: What happened to the last story, I hear you asking. Well, Shepard decided that her story'd been told enough times at this point, and figured I didn't need to tell it again. So, I listened, and started with some new folks. So, I hope you enjoy my little OCs instead.

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“Aria has no interest, little man. Get lost.”
The drell checked himself before he snarled. Been hanging around batarians too long.
“The offer I have for her is quite profitable, and is barely any effort on her part. All I need is a moment of her time to-”
“Look, kid, she's not going to talk with a no-body like you. No matter the offer. Get a drink, enjoy the girls. Get lost.”
Striver Telikin balled his hands into fists, relaxed them. Memorized the batarian's facial markings.
You're going to be my next custodian, he vowed to himself before turning to the bartender. He ordered his drink, less interested in the alcohol, more interested in waiting. Perhaps the shift would change and he could ask someone else. Or the asari would leave her office and he could get a private moment with her.
Not exactly the easiest thing to get an appointment with her.
“Hey there, beautiful.”
He glanced sideways at one of the dancers. Asari, her skin tinted subtly, making her slightly purple. As if she had the flush of passion in her skin. Her face not marked as dramatically as some, again, subtle, highlights on her head ridges to make them stand out more. A touch of shadow under her eyes and cheeks. Absolutely lovely.
“I think you could use a dance, hmm?”
He let himself be led to her table. He didn't have many credits... but hell, even if he couldn't use the Afterlife brand, at least he could use their inspirations.
Striver took a seat on one of the low couches. The dancer's every movement fluid, professional. She crawled... no, she didn't crawl up on top the table. Crawling implied rough, uncoordinated locomotion. She had the look of some great stalking beast as she took her place on the large table. Her eyes didn't leave his, unblinking, nearly intimidating.
He swallowed.
The dancer rocked back on her knees, her hands tracing up her thighs, her stomach, accentuating every sinuous curve and emphasize the flashes of skin he could see through the cut outs in her outfit. Leather. Skin on skin. Purple and black moving ever so slightly slower than the music around them. Heightening the sense of anticipation.
The flare of her throat, the gyration of her hips, her full parted lips, every movement whispered of sex and sensuality.
“Ah, you're missing the best part!”
A firm hand clapped him on the shoulder, sloshing his forgotten alcohol.
Another asari sat next to him. This one leaned far forward on the seat, smiling up at the dancer.
With a curious glance at this new one, he leaned forward as well. The dancer grinned, and air kissed at the newcomer.
“Stargazer has the best hips in Afterlife,” the asari said.
What a lame dancer name, Striver thought, but couldn't help the smile.
There was a bit of a look between the two asari, a new kind of alertness in Stargazer.
The other asari had it right, this angle did offer quite a better view. Emphasized the sumptuous curve of her hip, brought her, erm, lush upper curves more prominently into view.
Amazingly, his fellow patron got even closer, raising into a crouch so that their noses grazed as the dancer curved into a forward bend.
“I need to meet with Aria.”
Striver blinked and shook himself out of the hormonal haze the asari carried with them like a perfume. The tone'd been nearly a whisper, but, like all drell, he'd been enhanced seven ways 'til moonrise before he was even a solarcycle old.
“She has the information you need,” the dancer cooed into the delicate conical of ear ridge. “She won't want to give it to you, but-” she pulled the other asari in for a kiss. They pressed their lips together with a determination that spoke more of business than passion.
The patron sat back, a smile tugging at slim, unenhanced lips.
“Thank you.”
A few taps on a omnitool and Stargazer held a similar smile.
“Always a pleasure.” Surprisingly, she kissed Striver's cheek as she stepped down from her table. “I'll have to finish that dance for you at some point. Hopefully with less of an audience.”
She patted her, apparently, big spender on a heavily armored shoulder and sauntered away.
Striver's eyes followed her ass a little, before being drawn back. He sat back in the booth to get a better look.
This asari looked different. Not just the odd, bold white markings against dusky dark skin – he'd seen plenty of asari who dyed their skin and adored their bodies with temporary markings. Muddying the usual blue to a brackish brown-green wasn't all that odd, but the slash across the bridge of the nose, the dramatic doubled lines from back of the jaw to nearly the chin...
Turian armor?
He blinked, suddenly realizing why this one looked so odd. Medium armor, proportioned correctly for the shorter body, yet without flanges and carapace parts sat slightly off. He placed the company markings as a well known supplier for mercenary bands, and poorly paid military groups. Outskirts.
Under the dust, he could see the gleam of oil on the metal and leather, barely any scuffs. Out of date, yet looked practically new.
A recent haul from a scavenged ship? Family armor? Why would turian armor be passed down in an asari family.... oh, maybe this one's father was a turian?
The calf spike stuck out at an awkward angle, the carapace protectors reached all the way up to the head ridges. The chestplate bulged forward, where it would protect the keel, but pressed close and tight to the chest other than that. No breasts. He sniffed quietly, drawing the sent of the other over the sensitive organs in the back of his mouth. No overpowering hormones. What asari didn't exude sexuality? Powerful female sensuality?
His eyes flicked back to the face. The brow-ridge perhaps a bit heavier than he'd seen in his memory. The nose off-center; broken and reset several times. Eyes dark, hawk like.
The asari... warrior?... kept an eye on the dancers, then subtly glanced to see where the eyes of bartender and guard were.
The next move, not so subtle.
The asari spit something into an armored palm. The color and material the same as the rest of the turian armor, but the fingers separated for an asari, or a human's, use.
“-Aria?”
Striver blinked. He'd missed the question.
“Aria?”
“You were trying to get in to see her, right?”
Striver nodded, several hundred questions sitting hard on his tongue.
The odd asari stared at the object that Stargazer'd had passed with the kiss. Fingers closed over it. A sigh lifted the armor slightly.
“What are you trying to get from her?”
“I'm a...” he swallowed and straightened. “I'm an engineer.” Like that's fooling anyone. “I wanted to start a business with her.”
One of those you've-got-to-be-kidding looks.
Striver finally took a drink. The alcohol was unfamiliar and warm. Not exactly something a client would want replicated.
“I make VR programs, custom tailored to whatever my client requires.”
“You're client wants a VR of Aria?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I'm here to make a contract for Afterlife.”
The asari laughed. “Really? You're going to make a holo of this dump?”
Striver frowned. “A lot of people want to get into this place. Just look at the line outside. And think of all the wealthy humans who want to have all the fun, enjoy all the sights and sounds, without the threat of danger.”
The asari grinned again. “The danger's half the fun, drell. How about this: I need a bit of backup, and I have an in. Help me get my mission finished, then I call in a favor for you and get your contract.”
Striver spared a glance at the guards.
Seven hells... I did tell myself I'd do anything to get out from under this contract, didn't I?
“The name's Striver Telikin.” He extended his hand.
The asari smirked. “Cut the bluff, or someone might take you up on it.” The hand that grasped his was very firm, the shake a simple up-down pump. Somewhere between human and turian. “I'm Doro.”
“Just Doro?”
“Clan name doesn't mean squat right now.” The asari stood and straightened the edge of the carapace. “Just stand behind me and try to look intimidating, hm?”
From the back, Doro looked very much like a short turian. Other than the flat feet, which Striver doubted anyone else would have noticed, the look was rather effective. The asari even kept the fingers curls up in a fist. From his angle, he could only see the armor slat on the back.
The batarian guard glanced over at the turian at the other set of stairs as Doro approached.
Striver bristled as the guard nervously clutched at the gun at his hip.
“Oh chill, its not like I've not been in here before. You don't need that gun.”
“Yeah, and I know you don't need your weapon to kill me.”
“Aria is expecting me.”
The guard frowned, radioed in to check, then stepped back to let them in.
Striver grinned at the man on the way up the stairs.
“Don't prod the bears too much, hm? They did take my weapons at the door.”
“What do you do, anyway?”
There was only enough time for a sickly grin before they were in Aria's opulent office.
“Ah, our little turian returns.”
Striver looked back and forth between the two asari. Aria's lazy smile fixed in place. Doro's jaw flexed, but otherwise stood rather still.
The others in the room shifted positions, surreptitiously moving out of the way. A couple dancers had themselves wrapped around clients. Enough guards in here to easily mop the floor: all turian. Striver kept his eyes on these, curious about how they reacted to the oddball asari in their armor.
Surprisingly, they didn't seem to respond to Doro. Their stance didn't shift, they kept an eye on both of them, but seemed to give his, erm, less-than-threatening presence just as much attention as they gave the armored asari.
“I've got what you asked for,” Doro said without preamble. “Give me the location.”
“The situation has changed. The payment we agreed upon isn't going to get you... all of what you're looking for.”
Aria looked over at him. Striver swallowed a gulp. Am I payment?
“What's changed, Aria? You're not revoking our deal now.”
“I'm not,” Aria looked at one of of her guards.
“They've been moved,” he said, quietly.
“Sold, actually,” Aria clarified. “So, the situation has changed.”
Powerful biotic energy flared around the turian-covered-asari a moment.
“Sold.”
The barefaced turian nodded. “We have the docking num-”
A sharp glance from Aria quieted him.
“Your payment first, turian. The information you were looking for was difficult to obtain.”
The exchange happened rather quickly. Doro pulled a bit of tech out of a secure pouch. A few taps of the omnitool, which the asari swept over the tech, brought it to life. Striver watched the movements carefully, caught part of an activation code. The little device hummed to life. The asari held up the little object that Stargazer'd handed over earlier; a small red stone.
The device enveloped the little stone, vrred loudly, then pulsed with an eery light in the palm of an armored hand. Aria nodded to the turian who'd spoken out earlier.
He took it carefully, his long thing fingers plucking up the glowing device without touching Doro.
The little device promptly wound to a stop the moment it left Doro's hand.
Aria snarled. “You're going to try to trick me?”
Doro smile thinned. “Just a simple activation code, Aria. To ensure you don't take the scanner and run.”
Aria didn't look to please with this added bit of information.
“Considering the 'changed situation,' it seems like it was a necessary precaution. You get the activation code the moment I'm off Omega.”
“And how do I know the turian traitor will send the information?”
Her turian guards shifted weight, smoldering eyes turning to their boss. Striver shrunk back behind the armored asari.
“I will insure Doro sends you the information.”
Striver stared at Aria's guard. Why's he standing up for a traitor? Doro didn't look over. Aria snarled.
“And if the information you send isn't correct-”
“If the information you send isn't correct, I'll send a self-destruct code and you'll never be able to reconstruct the scanner.”
The guard stepped between the two of them.
“What ship do you have?” he asked Doro.
Striver saw a muscle twitch in the asari's jaw. “I'm flying a UR-23b.”
“An interceptor? Where's your carrier?”
No answer past a clenched hand. The turian lifted a hand, stopping the answer that wasn't coming anyway.
“No matter. You need something faster. Head to the lower docks. I'll send word for my vessel.”
“Gavorn?”
The barefaced turian clicked his beak at his boss. “Traitor to one, hero to another,” he turned back to Doro. “I have the last known coordinates queued up in the auto-pilot. You need to hurry.”
“Thank you.” Doro's voice quavered.
“Go.”
Doro turned quickly; Striver needed a moment to collect himself and follow. Had... had he seen the glimmer of tears? So quick, even his impressive memory couldn't quiet recall.
A powerful hand grasped him by the upper arm, keeping him from following.
“Keep him safe,” Gavorn whispered urgently. He released the drell with a hard shove to the door.
Striver jogged to catch up with the retreating asari. One work repeating through his mind. Him.
- 1
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Unlikely Rescue