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The Justicar's Dog of War	By : Doirly_No Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 55026 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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After a more restful sleep than expected the night before assaulting a well fortified drug lair, Samara awoke to Shepard breaking her promise. A hand had a healthy hold on one of her well-endowed breasts and when she shifted slightly, the fingers released a second only to take a more assertive grip. The shift also got the human’s hips to move and she felt cool air touch her leg in a rather confined spot. Careful not to wake the sleeping woman, she reached down to find a damp patch on her thigh. She relaxed again and considered what to do, weighed by what soon would happen.
Samara gently tugged the collar of the woman snuggled against her. “Wake up, Shepard.”
She answered before really waking, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Shepard.” The tug harder this time.
This time the human’s eyes opened halfway, her fingers retained their hold. “Oh, good morning, ma’am.”
“Shepard, you disobeyed me.”
That got consciousness to arrive. “What!? No!”
Samara closed her hand around the one groping her chest. “Then what is this?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Shepard pulled away, immediately prostrating herself hands, knees and forehead pressed to the mattress. “It was an accident.”
“An accident?” The Justicar propped herself up on an elbow, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled it to the wet spot on her thigh. “Explain this then.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Whether you meant to or not, you have soiled my leg.” Samara held her human inches away. “Clean it.”
Shepard started to move, but the hand gripping her didn’t, “How, ma’am?”
“I am sure you can figure something out.”
The woman’s eyes lit up realizing the implication. “Yes, ma’am!”
They had been together for months, but never had Shepard been allowed to touch her owner in an intimate way outside the shower and even there she had many limitations. For the first time she would taste asari skin and know what those tiny scales felt like against her tongue. Savoring the moment, she extended the lithe, pink muscle for her mouth and pressed as much of it as she could against the blue flesh.
Slowly she dragged her flattened tongue along the matriarch’s thigh, gathering her own nocturnal excretions as she went. The swath she cut went far past the wetness, on until her forehead pressed to the other leg. With nowhere left to go she returned to her original position, just an inch to the side, and repeated. The spot she had made was minor, but she licked as if she had to clean the entire asari. She just hoped she’d be allowed to continue until she had removed her own juices completely and would be able to taste only the Justicar.
Samara tightened her grip on the hair and pulled her devotee away. “You can finish up later. We must prepare.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Instantly her lust was suppressed and she flipped the switch back to soldier.
“Yes, ma’am,” the same two words calmly repeated six hours later just before Shepard left Samara’s sight.
Ten miles away from a population center on Nevos a bunker had been buried that could protect thousands from Reaper attacks though probably not from a full scale invasion, luckily it had never been put to that test. The defenses were largely still in place, a heavy turret still sat over the cement entrance, but was just for show. No matter how many bribes they paid, there was no way a rocket launcher would be allowed to remain in the hands of a criminal organization within firing range of a major city.
A battle-worn krogan named Chic approached the entrance built into the side of a mountain with a human escort under his arm. Several jealous looks following him as everyone else had been told all the boys and girls from the service would be otherwise occupied. The good looks of the woman didn’t ease the envy any. Her tight, black, leather outfit hugged every curve she had and the bright pink hair on the top of her head made sure no one would miss the chance to notice her walk by. Each of her steps jingled with the excess of jewelry draped over her in an attempt to make her look more high-class than she was.
They walked down a hundred meter staircase and then another hundred meter hall carved into the bedrock, every twenty a pair of turrets stood sentry. Twice scanners checked her every nook and cranny looking for any weapons, biotic implants, omni-tools or dangerous substances that she may have concealed. Neither time did so much as an OSD show up; those from the escort service knew better. After the first set of blast doors it opened up into a lobby with a second three foot thick barrier ready to shut out any enemy at the other end of the room. To each side where hallways that connected to varying barracks, storage and command centers.
As she was steered to the left a middle-aged human called, “Hey, Chic how the fuck you get a girl?”
“They can’t keep their hands off me Jimmy,” the krogan laughed as he felt up his woman for the night.
“How ‘bout ya share bud?” the bald man asked as he caught up. “You owe me one.”
Chic tightened his grip and asked, “How about it babe?”
“Don’t know how much good I’ll do ya after the big guy here gets done.”
The mercenary took a hold of her butt and asked, “How about you leave this just for me then?”
“Cost you extra and I sure as shit ain’t doing ya both together.”
The deal made the three headed down the hall lined with rooms. Just before leaving the lobby she looked over her shoulder for eyes following her ass. She peeked in any door that may have been open and saw nothing but private quarters and personal effects. A third of the way from the end they turned into some sort of entertainment den, filled with screens, card tables and a stripper pole, but no bed in sight. Rather the bed was in a large closet at the back of the room.
The bald man took a spot outside the door, Chic handing him his gun. The woman on the krogan’s arm scanned the room once before being shut in with the oversized alien. The ultimate romantic he immediately dropped trow and plopped himself on the bed. Punctuating his feelings with a point to his crotch.
As ordered, the woman climbed up on him, but her excess of clothing made him ask, “Gonna be hard to get down to business with all that stuff on.”
“Don’t worry, I got something special in mind,” she teased as she traced his lower lip with a thumb.
The digit rubbed back and forth a few times her eyes following it closely. After a few swipes it dipped a little further in to feel the teeth behind. None of this had any appeal and he hoped it wouldn’t last much longer. She gave him a wink and without a thought he opened his mouth a bit wider. Then the look in her eye turned cold.
Shepard surged, jamming her arm down the krogan’s throat, putting all her weight behind it. Elbow deep she closed her fist. It took the first missed breath for him to realize something had gone wrong and instinctively bit down. Her bracelets and the weak jaw evolution gave him made that futile. Next he tried to close his arms to crush the little bitch, but couldn’t solidify his grip before a thumb popped his eyeball, releasing a stream of blood. Pain seized his body.
All she could do was keep up the pressure and wait for him to suffocate; she thought it unlikely that the krogan would bleed out from the small wound. Occasionally he would flail an arm to hit the wall in a poor attempt to call for help. After thirty seconds without breathing he made his last ditch effort, but that was cut off by a well placed stomp to his quad. He had a slow, horrid death, but the hired gun for a drug cartel wasn’t exactly an innocent bystander. She waited a couple minutes beyond the end of the struggling, unsure how many lungs a krogan had. Pulling away, she took a moment to wipe her hands with the ratty blanket.
The sound of Chic dying apparently sounded the same as him fucking, because Jimmy hadn’t cared about the loud banging of the alien’s fist against the wall. He looked up from his issue of Fornax with a letch’s smile when she came out of the room early. As she approached him the thought something was off struck him, but his concern retreated when she grabbed a bottle of ryncol. His friend loved the stuff.
Shepard didn’t break stride as she hurled the booze at the nit-wit. The krogan cocktail burned like acid in his eyes and mouth, not that he had too long to experience the pain. As soon as she reached the writhing man she wrapped her necklace around his throat and pulled. The thin chain sliced into his neck, cutting off the blood to his head and air to his lungs. She left the costume jewelry on him.
Almost out the door she grabbed a bottle of asari wine, swished it through her mouth and spit it out. She then headed down the hall, with a slight stagger to her step. Not one of those she passed gave her a second thought, drunks common place. In the lobby she was able to gather a few second glances though, none doing more than stripping her naked. She scanned, avoiding eye contact with all but the asari with a slight build leaning against a wall, who received a wink and a smile
Taking the hint the blue alien sauntered over, “Shouldn’t you be entertaining a couple of my friends, girlie?”
“Yeah, but it turns out krogans are a bit bigger than I thought,” she said with a hint of fear. “Figure a place like this would have something to loosen me up.”
The criminal stepped close enough to smell alcohol laden breaths. “Well there is plenty of hallex around, but I don’t know how well it works for humans.”
“I can think of a way to find out,” the escort flirted.
“What about Chic and Jimmy?”
“I think they can wait. Plus, your friends don’t seem like the sensitive type, so I could use someone to warm me up.”
“How much would that cost me?”
“Say,” she weighed her worth. “A few pills and an O?”
The asari glanced back at her superior who rolled her eyes and gave a nod. Taking hold of the whore’s hand she made for the factory. Pass the giant gates that could seal out an army, several dozen very young maidens worked mixing chemicals, crushing the results into powder and using machines to put them into pills, then bottles. Their operation only taking up a fraction of the overall space that could fit thousands of refugees. She headed for one of the near crates that had yet to be closed, but the human trailing gave a tug and pointed to a more secluded corner.
Popping a bottle open, the thug fished out a pill and turned around with it in her mouth. The intent obvious enough, the woman took the offer and locked lips. To the asari’s surprise the drug was pushed into her mouth by a pink tongue, not that she had never partaken. She was also surprised by how forcefully the prostitute pushed her backward, to the point she felt hands lift her off the ground.
Shepard carried the alien she was kissing toward a terminal halfway beyond any of the barrels or crates full of drug manufacturing supplies. With a thud they slammed into the wall with as much force as one would expect in a heated moment of passion. Then using greater strength, the infiltrator punched the casing of the oversized, panic button next to the blue mercenary’s head.
Blaring sirens and pulsing red-lights filled the entire structure as a shield immediately sealed off the main shelter, to give time for the immense doors to slide shut. The kiss broke, the asari dropped to her feet. The strong hands that had held her up grabbed her skull and bashed it into the concrete, leaving blood staining the wall.
The criminals and thugs in the lobby watched the doors all around them close, not entirely concerned. It must have been a malfunction. The six who monitored the workers started wandering toward the shutting door, weapons low, exchanging questioning looks with those outside.
Calmly, Shepard recovered the unconscious asari’s assault rifle. Yet to be seen, she circled around to an advantageous spot in the shadows to wait for the gate to seal. As soon as she heard the locks engage she put a slug in the thug she’d knocked out to make sure she wasn’t getting back up, as well as put everyone on edge. So the workers would react quicker to her next burst of fire.
Everyone without a gun hit the floor when one of the guards dropped dead. It wasn’t until half of them were down that any of them realized where the shots were coming from. Two more standing too close together were taken out before they could return fire. Then after a brief exchange the last was neutralized.
“Everyone proceed to the back of the shelter and lie on your stomachs. I do not consider you my enemies and do not wish you any harm,” Shepard yelled.
The offer was immediately taken. The human returned to the terminal. The controls for the shelter pretty basic, so that in a worst case scenario any civilian could operate them. However, the cartel had put security measures in place to limit the number of people with access. None of which stood much chance against a highly-trained infiltrator.
A quick check revealed the turrets were not in the system, so she couldn’t turn them on their owners. The plan didn’t require them; it would have been more a nice bonus. She disabled the outer vents, internal sensors and door locks. Then she told the computer that the facility had been overrun and there was a noxious gas in the main shelter. Throughout the instillation micro explosives physically isolated every terminal but hers and the ducts overhead opened fully to begin cycling the air.
She left the terminal for the stacks of containers all around. She had memorized five different ways to combine the chemicals it took to produce hallex into poisonous gas. The lids to barrels filled with a rather benign substance were torn off as quickly as possible. After a short search she found the smaller, red crates held her second ingredient and the yellow ones had the acid she needed. Luckily a drug factory wasn’t suffering for measuring devices.
Just over forty minutes later the criminals in the complex, who still didn’t know what was happening or why the terminals all seemed broken, noticed a dark mist falling out of the vents. Anyone who wasn’t krogan or turian immediately started coughing while their eyes watered. Nothing mattered more to them than fleeing to an exit. After a short time even those of the initially unaffected races felt a mild burning in the backs of their throats, enough to persuade them to leave too.
A thousand meters away Samara watched the entrance of the bunker, an eye regularly checking the time. It felt like the next part of the plan was long overdue, but the clock told her otherwise. Another hour would need to pass before she should worry. She tried to settle herself, tell herself worrying was pointless, but her tightened chest wouldn’t listen.
Ten minutes ahead of schedule she saw the first people fleeing. Her nerves calmed and her focus heightened. Her gaze bouncing between direct looks and checking her omni-tool connected to a bug they planted near the door a day ago. She had to make sure the bunker had emptied before she acted. So she waited until at least fifty came out, which assumed about three dozen exploited workers and around ten killed by Shepard would be staying inside. It took awhile, but eventually a few straggling krogans came out to reach the quota and join their cohorts being screamed at by their pissed, matron leader.
Feeling the time right, Samara looked skyward to a cluster of twinkling lights that spit twin comets when she entered the final command. Her ship initiated its program to unleash a strike against the criminal base, air bursting two warheads over the bewildered gang, before piloting itself back to port. The explosions instantly flattened everything within fifty meters, kicking up clouds of dust and wiping away evidence anything living ever stood there. When the haze dissipated the local authorities moved in on the unscathed bunker entrance to clean up.
The Justicar’s chest ached with concern while she waited the hours it took to clear the noxious smog and hours more for the police to assault the base. Turrets had to be neutralized, doors penetrated, exploited workers saved and the few criminals that had survived to be arrested. Only after all that could the engineers be sent in to override the main gate.
She knew there was no way for the plan to succeed if Shepard had died, but still the pain behind her ribs persisted as she waited to see the human again. Finally, more than half a day after last seeing her, Shepard came walking down the road. It was hard to recognize her through the dyed hair and ridicules outfit. At one point she saw the woman bring a hand to her nose to sniff, which was odd. Not for a second would Samara’s eyes waver from the infiltrator from the moment she came into view until she stood at attention before her.
Shoulders squared, spine straight and hands at the small of her back, Shepard greeted, “Ma’am.”
A moment of weakness overcame Samara and she wrapped her arms around the woman. “I am grateful to see you again.”
“Were you worried?” she asked, unsure whether to hug back or not.
“I was,” the asari answered as she regained her control and broke the embrace.
“Not to over step my bounds, ma’am,” the former commander said with an amused grin. “But, did you forget who I am?”
“I suppose I did.” Samara then confessed, “Still, I worried and perhaps felt guilt about putting you in such a situation that risks your life in order to fulfill my Code.”
“But, I’m the hero,” Shepard began, feeling the need to make the one she adored understand in no uncertain terms. “And I like being the hero. I never liked all the distractions like paper work and dealing with the Council, but I always liked being the hero. I think there is no greater honor than for someone to point at me and say, there’s the hero. I mean, I’m the biggest one this galaxy has ever seen and they wanted to turn me into a living monument. Sitting me on a beach to enjoy my well earned rest, or whatever. I’ve never even stuck a toe in the ocean, only times I’ve been on a beach I was in my boots. But because of you, I get to still be the hero when it matters and then nothing when it doesn’t. I get to fight for a noble cause then I get to go home, turn my brain off and revert to baser instincts. Be completely selfish and leave everything to you. On the ship all I got to do is what you tell me to and I really like what you tell me to do, even if I wish you’d tell me to do a little more. Really, this has been a great day for me. I woke up next to you then I got to kill the bad guys and save the day. I was the hero today and I know you will lead me to many more great days.”
“I see,” obviously not knowing how to respond.
Then to lighten things Shepard added, “Plus, I’ve always had a thing for older women and you’re like the Holy Grail.”
Unsure why she was called a divine cup the asari shifted topics, “Let us return to the ship and get you out of those awful clothes and wash that stuff out of your hair.”
“You don’t like?”
“Not even a little,” Samara answered with a deepening smile.
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The Justicar's Dog of War