Chapter 5: The Tyger

Not once was Shepard asked for identification or the weapons he was carrying remarked upon. For all intents and purposes the Citadel was closer to one huge building site than the playground of the galaxy's elite and refined. It still seemed as bustling and multicultural as always but it didn't take long to note that there were barely any civilians to be seen. There were a mass of different uniforms and different makes of guns wherever he looked. The lack of attention he received due to that was quite welcome. Even the galaxy's greatest hero was only a soldier among many.

More numerous and to some extent unarmed were the humans. Judging by their attire most of them were construction workers who had chosen the opportunity to rebuild the crown jewel of galactic society instead of their local supermarket back on earth. There even seemed to be a few who could only be described as tourists. Wandering about the place with no distinct goal, some taking snapshots they hoped to go down in history for. A lot of these tourists probably couldn't afford to journey far from Earth so this was their only chance of ever seeing the Citadel up close. And what a mess it was.

Shepard had another look at his datapad. Liara had given him the time and place she had arranged the meeting with the Turian. The problem was he had never heard of it and wasn't sure it had even existed on the old Citadel. No doubt there was some strategic significance Liara had considered when she chose it but that would do no good if he couldn't even find his way there. For the first time he missed the Avina terminals he could have asked for directions. He supposed his best bet would be to find someone from C-Sec who knew his way around. But even here in the dock area he couldn't find one of the familiar uniforms. If there was no C-Sec, who was in charge of security? He settled instead for a seasoned-looking alliance officer who happened to collide with him.

He tapped him on the shoulder, "Excuse me, could I-".

"Look I'm sorry, but I'm in a rush. It's hard enough getting around this place without pillocks like you who stand in my way like bloody water hydrants."

Shepard raised his arms in apology. "I didn't mean to complain, it's just that I'm looking for a place-"

"My god. It's you isn't it? Only Commander bloody Shepard!" The man approached him and Shepard thought of defending himself but already his arms were around him, patting him on the back. "You're the bastard who kicked the Reapers straight to hell, or so I'm told. A genuine bloody hero! Ask anything you like, Commander." Shepard blinked. He had only just gotten his head around the fact that he was being complemented, not insulted. "Thank you officer. I'm looking for a place called 'The Enkindler's Wine-Lodge'" The officer scratched the back of his head, an expression of intense concentration on his face. "The name rings a bell but I wouldn't be of the sort that goes there. I think it's a rather posh place, I have other preferences if you know what I mean. Tell you what though, I'm just on my way to see the Lieutenant Commander. Now he's bound to be able to help you out and I know he'd never forgive me if I bumped into Commander Shepard and kept stumm about it."

As he accompanied the officer, Shepard learned that his name was Saul Tracker but apparently everyone called him "Strax" for short. He was a Lieutenant and now a veteran of the Reaper war, like pretty much every Alliance soldier, but he made an effort to point it out multiple times. In his eyes that made him and Shepard best buddies and Shepard wasn't going to object to that. He had to know who he could trust in the Alliance after many of his old connections had perished in the war.

Shepard waited patiently outside the Commander's office for Strax to receive his new orders and to mention Shepard's presence. When Strax took his leave he saluted him and commented once again on what a bloody good man he was. The Commander's reception of him seemed almost abrupt in comparison. He merely shook his hand and complimented him once. This was Commander Joseph Stahl, about ten years Shepard's senior and his hair already slightly greying at the temples. He had the look of a man who smiled often but rarely laughed and a quiet, almost solemn voice.

Deciding to use the opportunity, Shepard first chose to ask a few general questions about the situation on the citadel and on earth.

"Earth is recovering. But with hardly any supplies coming in from outside the system and with the need to supply both the planet and the Citadel, the progress is gruellingly slow. At least no one is going hungry, as far as I'm told. The Reapers didn't primarily target our agricultural facilities. They wanted to harvest our population, not starve them to death. We can thank them for that now." He tapped his monitor a few times and live feeds from Earth's major cities were projected onto the walls around them. 'Postapocaliptic' was the word Shepard would have used to describe the scenes he saw. But amongst the rubble there were a few buildings that looked like they had been restored and many little figures milling about the place. Not all of them human. "The other races have proved very generous with their offers of help. But you have to keep in mind that some of them have little choice at the moment. There are still only a few relays rebuilt and many soldiers couldn't return home yet."

"I've been lucky so far, the relays I needed were restored. Which relays are being worked on at the moment?" Shepard pictured the relay network. He had learnt all the connections by heart multiple times but there were always a few that slipped his mind.

"The Widow relay is the absolute top priority. Without it Thessia, Palaven and Tuchanka can't be reached. It's the one we've been working on the longest and have used most resources on but not all relays are the same. The Widow links many major systems. We were convinced we had it operational at one point but it literally blew up in our faces. Some even speak of sabotage." Stahl snorted and made clear what he thought of that. Shepard wasn't so certain.

"What if it's true?"

Stahl shrugged and walked to one of the large bulletproof windows of his office. Below there were sparks flying as workers cut a piece of scrap metal into a more useful shape. "If it's true then I don't see any hope in rebuilding a functioning galactic society. If we can't trust each other in times of need like this..." His voice trailed off.

The Commander looked older than his age, at least at the moment. Worry lines had begun to deepen on his forehead and the way he held himself he seemed tired. "Maybe I refuse to see it. I have enough problems even closer at hand. Things haven't been going all too well on the citadel. With virtually everyone armed, security gets a lot more complicated, even if they are all disciplined soldiers in theory. What remained of C-Sec went down with the Citadel when the Reapers attacked. Now the Alliance tries to fulfil their role but we are primarily trained for battle, not keeping the peace."

There was indeed something about Stahl that made him think of an overwhelmed Sheriff who no longer had control over his town. He remembered how he sometimes got that vibe off Officer Bailey too, but at least Bailey had experience to count on. Stahl was more executioner than judge.

"Couldn't the use of guns be regulated at least?"

Stahl shook his head. "We tried convincing soldiers to hand in their guns but the Turians were having none of it, not when they were surrounded by humans. And if the Turians don't cooperate the other races won't either. So instead we get drunken brawls ending in shootouts." He paused and gave Shepard a defeated look. "The number of rapes is twice as high as it used to be. Any kind of man would think twice about going after an Asari huntress but these naive tourists are a prime target. Hell, we even had to start rebuilding brothels before apartments." Stahl took one last glance out of the windows and then walked back to his desk. "These men might be the best soldiers the galaxy has to offer but keep them crammed together in tight spaces for long enough some of them start to behave like animals. If things don't change soon I could have a right mess on my hands."

Shepard didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't imagined the situation to be this bad. There wasn't much he could do to assist at the moment apart from becoming another unsuited policeman amongst many. "I'm sure you and your men will get the situation under control."

Coughing and his face flushing ever so slightly it seemed that Commander Stahl hadn't meant to appear so helpless in front of a fellow Commander. He was obviously embarrassed. "Don't worry, Commander, we will. Now, I shouldn't be bothering you with all this talk, I'm sure you have other priorities at the moment and more pressing questions."

"I'm to meet someone in the 'Enkindler's Wine-Lodge' but I've never come across it before. You wouldn't happen to know the directions?" Stahl nodded as Shepard passed him his datapad. He added a marker to the Citadel-map displayed on it. "I've been there a few times, but mainly for meetings like yourself. The music isn't too loud you see and the visitors always pleasant." Shepard thanked him and gave him a pat on the shoulder by way of saying goodbye. "You're a good man, Stahl. I can see you'll soon set things to rights." Granting him a weak smile, Stahl replied: "Thank you, Shepard. I'll try and find a common language every soldier on this station understands."

Finally spotting the bright pink neon lights featuring a Hanar holding multiple wine glasses in its tentacles, Shepard almost mistook the Turian standing at the entrance for a security guard as he made to enter the wine-lodge in a hurry. If she hadn't offered him her hand that is.

"Saskia Rakahn", she offered him brusquely. "Uhm- Commander Shepard. It's good to meet you Saskia." The Turian female wasn't wearing any armour as far as he could tell, then again Turians were armoured by nature. Instead she wore a peculiar kind of cream-white "dress" if you could call it that, with red tassels hanging down from her sleeves. But the first thing he noticed about her were her intense yellow eyes, matched by war-paint of the same colour that decorated the reddish skin of her brow.

"You're late", she remarked. "And this place is dull. Whoever chose it must be a bore to hang out with so I hope it wasn't you." Shepard blinked. "No, it wasn't." He wondered if Liara would get along with her at all. "Come, let's go somewhere else". She strode off and Shepard's only choice was to follow, leaving the place he'd spent the last hour trying to find behind him.

The droning beats of Purgatory swept in their direction as they left the elevator. At least down here nothing much seemed to have changed. Except there was an actual queue forming to get inside the club. "Why didn't you just write back that you'd prefer to meet here?" He already had to raise his voice over a crowd of inebriated partygoers.

"I didn't want to make a fuss before I was sure your interest in me was genuine. Say, you mightn't be able to jump the queue would you?" Shepard was still at a loss trying to pin down her personality. She was definitely no nonsense but he couldn't help but notice a teasing tone to her voice. Assuming that she wasn't flirting but rather testing him, he shoved his way to the bouncers. "Commander Shepard, Council Spectre." He didn't see any recognition in the dim-witted bouncer's eyes and was relieved that there were still some who hadn't even heard of him. Evidently his colleague had though and whispered something in his ear so he let them through.

Inside the club looked mostly unchanged except for its dimensions. It seemed to have grown even bigger then when he had last paid a visit. He had to lean in closer to the Turian so he could be heard over the blaring sound of techno. "THIS PLACE LOOKS JUST LIKE IT ALWAYS HAS, WHY'S THAT?" Saskia looked about her, green strobe lights dancing over her smooth face plates. "IT WAS ONE OF THE FIRST FACILITIES TO BE REBUILT." "WHY?!" She waved her arm around her, indicating the gyrating masses of people on the dance-floor. "SOLDIERS NEED TO BLOW OFF STEAM. SOME DANCE IN CLUBS, OTHERS DO SPARRING. I LIKE TO DO BOTH." Shepard considered that and it made sense, especially considering what Stahl had told him. The expression of blowing off steam reminded him of someone. "DO YOU KNOW GARRUS VAKARIAN?" She seemed to contemplate it for a moment. "I'VE HEARD OF HIM, DON'T THINK I'VE EVER MET HIM IN PERSON. WHY DO YOU ASK?" "OH, NO REASON."

She took his arm and led him over to a sitting area. It was where Shepard used to meet up with Aria T'Loak during the Reaper war. Now there were multiple soldiers relaxing and even a few couples fooling around with each other. While there was plenty of space left, Saskia sat down so close next to Shepard it almost made him jump. Was this part of blending in? With her face so close to his and those piercing eyes, so much like those of a cat, mustering him intently he had to admit that there was definitely some kind of attraction he'd never felt for a Turian woman before. It was difficult to picture her as the Normandy's pilot. She was so different to Joker, but then again that might be a good thing.

The architecture of Purgatory allowed the sound to sweep over above the sitting area. There were probably also sound absorbing panels concealed in the walls around them. They didn't have to resort to shouting again, in any case.

"You don't strike me as a pilot." Shepard was blunt but it was better to speak his mind, see how she reacted. "Oh?" Was her reply. "Your skill in the sparring chambers and your various other activities make me think you'd be an excellent soldier or infiltrator." Saskia didn't take it as an insult but chose to make her position clear. "It's what I like to do in my free time. I could do without it if my duties on the Normandy wouldn't allow for it. But I find that there is a lot you learn in the ring that you can apply to different situations. A space battle, for example." She seemed eager, more confrontational then defensive, waiting to pounce at his next question.

"I see. I suppose my... assistant chose you for your accomplishments with the Turian fighters. Can you tell me a bit about your career?"

"Sure. I was one of the youngest recruits ever to be chosen for fighter pilot training. The training is rigorous and hard, some would call it cruel. But I was grateful for it. They put me to the test and I passed with flying colours. I piloted a turian fighter for eight years. I completed my share of missions, I'm sure you can read up on them. None as grandiose as yours, of course. Mostly skirmishes to small battles." Shepard nodded and ignored her mocking tone. She was obviously the type of person who had to form her own opinion of people she met. Until then any praise he got as "Hero of the Galaxy" might as well be bullshit to her.

"What about your service for the Alliance? That is quite unusual for a Turian."

"That is rather recent. My team of fighters was on a classified mission in the sol-system when the Reapers first attacked. While I had my orders I wouldn't sit idly by as your people were being butchered. I am very loyal to my superiors, Commander, but I also have a conscience. I hope that doesn't lessen my appeal. Anyway, I ordered my team to attack, but I'm afraid skill doesn't automatically equal leadership. I knew there were some in my team who begrudged me my rapid rise through the ranks. In the end almost half my team abandoned me. I noticed too late that they had broken off and my attack formation was useless. We didn't stand a chance." She averted her gaze from Shepard for the first time. Now he had found a crack in her cocksure manner. He didn't think any lesser of her for it, if anything it made her seem more... human. "It probably was suicide to begin with. And my men wouldn't follow me into that. Those who remained loyal were rewarded by being shot to pieces. I'd have gladly died then but I was lucky. My ship was badly damaged but I managed to land on a retreating Alliance. That's when I decided that I would stay with what I knew, which was flying ships. And leave the leading to someone else. If what I hear is true you're the best man for that." That made Shepard think. He still felt like a soldier at heart but he couldn't deny that he had been successful at leading his team. If they hadn't trusted him completely his suicide mission against the Collectors would have looked a lot more like Saskia's.

"The Alliance officer of the frigate I crashed on awarded me for my courage and the crew took to calling me "The Tyger", but it might as well have been a medal for stupidity. I spent the entirety of the Reaper war with the Alliance, learning to fly almost every class of ship they have. Seeing as the Normandy is of joint Human and Turian design I'm confident I'm the woman for your job, Shepard. If you'll have me."

There was definitely something about this Turian that made her unique. He had no doubt she was the pilot she claimed to be. Flying a stealth ship like the Normandy was still different than a fighter, however. From what he knew there was still no guarantee she'd be up to the task. But time was running short and Shepard felt he had to trust his gut feeling as well as Liara's choice. "Welcome on board, Saskia Rakahn." He offered her his hand and she took it, eyes shining brighter than ever.

Saskia had offered him a drink but Shepard insisted that there was no time to lose. She was to collect her things from her apartment and meet him at the docks. That gave him some time to inquire about the Krogan. Liara had been able to pull the most recent Armax-Arsenal Arena results (another investment to keep the soldiers from killing each other for real) and found a recent team called "Aralakh Company". Some educated guesswork suggested that Grunt might currently be on the Citadel. If Shepard was lucky he might locate him in time for their scheduled departure.

Asking for "Grunt" only managed to get him a few odd looks. "Tankborn" was more successful. "Aye, I've seen that scum walking around", one particularly unpleasant looking Krogan admitted. "Tell me if you find him, me and my boys will soon put an end to that abomination of a Krogan. Eheheheheee."

Other sightings led Shepard into a street where most of the apartments had been gutted. Krogans were tossing fire-blackened furniture into the streets. He supposed that they were workers whose enormous strength was preferred over a human workforce for this kind of job. Being paid to break things was more than many Krogans could wish for. Shepard approached the one who seemed to be overseeing the whole operation. "Hello, do you know-" The Krogan roared and came at him. Shepard had no time to react before he was flying through the air and landed on a pile of rubble with a crunch and a SMASH. The smash wasn't caused by his landing though. He rubbed his eyes and saw that in the space he had just been standing lay the charred remains of a grand piano that had obviously been flung from the window above. The overseer was bellowing . "DID THEY GROW YOU THE BRAINS OF A PYJACK BY MISTAKE, YOU TANKBRED MORON?! YOU ALMOST CRUSHED THAT GUY." Shepard's head was still spinning a little but he managed a smile, especially when Grunt appeared at the window, four floors above.

"SHEPARD!"