by Joan Jett
An attractive young asari intercepted me as I appeared in the entrance. I was struck by her facial markings, a startling array of white accents on the crests of her fringe and over her eyes. "Good morning. My name is Nelyna. How may I assist you?"
"Dr. Liara T'Soni to see the Consort."
She showed no surprise, and I didn't see her refer to any schedule or roster. She either had a VI assistant implant or an excellent memory. "Of course, Doctor. The Consort arranged her schedule so you could have twenty minutes with her as soon as you arrived. If you will follow me?"
Nelyna led me back into the depths of the salon. The common room used carpets, wall-hangings, and greenery to suggest a sumptuous walled garden. I smelled a faint floral scent on the air, one I could not recognize. Younger acolytes unobtrusively served finger food and drinks. One acolyte played a stringed instrument I recognized as being of human origin, a guitar I believe it was called. The music drifted, soft and bittersweet, just loud enough to notice but not loud enough to distract.
We passed other acolytes, almost all of them asari. I did see one female human in an acolyte's gown, and wondered about her presence. All of them, including the human, were quite beautiful. They entertained clients of all kinds: asari, salarians, a turian, a human, even a volus.
"Nelyna, I confess that I am at a loss. I did not request an appointment with the Consort, and I have no idea why she would wish to see me."
The acolyte made a hand gesture out of the old dramas, symbolic of ignorance and an appeal for patience. "I'm sorry. Sha'ira did not instruct me as to the reason for your visit."
"Of course. Please forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive. It is our honor to serve those who visit us."
I glanced at her face, but saw nothing but open sincerity.
We left the common room and took an elevator to the third floor and the Consort's private chambers. Nelyna rang a soft bell outside the door. I saw no answering signal, but she opened the door and bowed to indicate that I should enter alone.
The reception room’s austerity surprised me. Instead of greenery and tapestries, the walls displayed paintings from a dozen worlds, all of exquisite taste but set widely apart from each other. Wooden tiling covered the floor with an intricate pattern in several tones that teased at the eye. Small sculptures and other artifacts rested on stands and in small display cases, each with its own lighting to display it to best effect.
My eye caught on an extraordinary rarity, an inusannon artifact from an era long before the Protheans. I walked over to examine it more closely.
"Doctor T'Soni."
Startled, I turned.
Sha'ira had entered silently, crossing into the middle of the room on bare feet while I satisfied my professional curiosity. Now she stood at the focus of the strange design formed by the parquetry of the floor.
Suddenly I understood this chamber’s relative severity. The entire space served to display a single work of art. No other element could be permitted to distract from this purpose.
Tall and slender, Sha’ira conformed exactly to the canons of classical beauty, perfection in every line and curve. She wore a high-necked gown that appeared to conceal her entire body, but the fabric was very sheer, revealing hints of smooth skin each time she moved in the light. She moved with extraordinary grace. Her face showed only a hint of purple dappling along the crests of her fringe, and no markings at all around her eyes or lips. It gave her an appearance of fresh-faced youth, at odds with the centuries of experience in her eyes.
I thought her the most beautiful asari I had ever seen. Her appearance overwhelmed my rational intellect, speaking directly to a part of my mind I had only recently begun to explore. I felt strong but contradictory desires, not certain whether I wanted to seize her in my arms or fall down to worship at her feet.
After the first moment, I reminded myself why such desires were both inappropriate and extremely unwelcome.
I am certainly not going to turn into a sex-addled fool over any asari. No matter how beautiful or accomplished.
Goddess, make my blood stop racing.
I braced my shoulders, placing my hands firmly behind my back, and lifted my chin to give the Consort a cool stare. "Sha'ira."
She smiled and nodded graciously in approval. "I have heard a great deal about you, Doctor. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance at last."
"I find it hard to believe that I would come to your attention."
"Is it so difficult to comprehend? You are very young, and yet you have already made yourself one of the galaxy's foremost experts in your chosen discipline. Now you are a trusted companion of the first human Spectre, the Council's hunter and champion. You have become a figure of considerable importance."
I shook my head, uneasily considering that she might be correct. I had become accustomed to obscurity, to working alone in a discipline almost no one cared about . . . but that life was dead with Benezia.
"How may I serve you, Sha'ira?"
"Actually, I had hoped to be able to serve you. I regret that circumstances have interfered. I may soon be forced to abandon the Citadel."
"Abandon the Citadel?" I asked, shocked.
She did not answer at first, only crossed the room to examine one of the paintings on the wall. She made a microscopic adjustment to the frame. "The life of a great hetaira is not as easy as we try to make it appear. Always one must play a game with scandal, ensuring that one's name is constantly on the lips of the many, but never permitting any scandal to grow to dangerous proportions. I fear I have made an inauspicious move in that game."
"In what way?"
"It involves one of my clients, a turian general named Septimus Oraka. He has turned against me, and now spreads slander against my name. He is quite influential, and so his lies are more damaging than usual. You must understand that a major part of the service I provide is discretion. What secrets a client chooses to confide in me must remain hidden. If they do not, all trust is lost and I can no longer do my work."
I nodded, understanding. "This General Oraka is making it appear that you have been careless with your clients' secrets."
"More than merely careless, he is making it appear that I have been deliberately indiscreet. You see the difficulty."
"What I do not see is how I can help you."
She turned back to me, stepped close. Her body language expressed vulnerability, mystery, availability. She wore a subtle scent that made me a little light-headed. "Again you underestimate yourself," she said softly. "You have great talent for uncovering even deeply buried truths, and then explaining them for all to understand. You associate with the great human Spectre and can draw upon his mystique. You have a reputation for straightforward honesty, so that no one will have good reason to suspect your motives. No one thinks of you as one of my clients or allies. You can assist me in this matter, and if my name is cleared I may be able to do you a service in return."
I considered it, still wondering why she would select me to come to her aid. On the other hand, it might prove useful to me – or to Shepard – if the Consort owed me a favor.
"I will do what I can," I told her. "May I ask what caused General Oraka to turn against you?"
She shook her head. "I respect him too much to reveal that in detail. Suffice it to say that he came to want more from me than I am capable of giving."
"I understand. Let me investigate and see what can be done."
* * *
I did most of my investigation from a bench less than a hundred meters from the Consort's chambers, overlooking a fountain and the Krogan Monument. It didn't take me long to uncover the facts I needed, perhaps an hour of digging through news service articles and extranet reports. I suppose I should have become suspicious at that point, but the task engaged my curiosity.
Research completed, I took a cab to Tayseri Ward.
Chora's Den advertised itself in the Citadel directory as a "gentleman's club," a term I didn't recognize. Then I arrived at the pla
ce and experienced enlightenment. I had descended the ladder of sensual entertainment, from its heights in Sha'ira's chambers to, I judged, about two-thirds of the way to the bottom.
A burly male human tended the door, and didn't quite know what to do with me. I was asari but clearly not there to work. I solved his dilemma by paying the cover charge, after which he admitted me with a barely concealed leer.
I saw a busy lounge laid out on a circular pattern, dimly lit and full of loud music with a heavy beat. Male humans made up most of the clientele, with a few krogan and male turians thrown in for variety. Clients spent their time drinking hard liquor, watching asari and female humans in revealing costumes. Dancers plied their trade on a raised stage above the bar, while other entertainers walked the floor. I saw several engaged with visitors in the dimly lit booths around the outside of the space, providing private showings or engaging in the early stages of sexual activity.
It was not at all my kind of establishment, but I was there on business. I scanned the booths, looking for a turian with elaborate face paint, drinking alone
There.
I crossed the floor, fending off the wandering hands of at least two half-drunken human males along the way, and slid into the turian's darkened booth.
Septimus Oraka peered at me, his raptor's gaze softened by the fact that he was rather the worse for drink. "Thanks, but I'm not interested in a private show, sweetie."
"That's fortunate, since I am not offering one . . . General."
Goddess, I just sounded exactly like my mother for a moment.
He blinked, and I could see his eyes struggling to focus.
"I had to come see it for myself," I said, my voice still cold with contempt. "General. Septimus. Oraka. Conqueror of Shapur. Victor of the Argolid Cluster campaign. Pride of the turian fleet. Sitting alone and drunk in a degenerate little bar in the Wards."
"Now just a minute," he growled. "Who the hell are you?"
"Doctor Liara T'Soni. You may have heard of me."
"Right . . . you're that scientist, the one traveling with the human Spectre. Shepard."
"That's correct." I softened my voice. "So why is it that I'm fighting Saren and his geth, and you're sitting here wallowing in alcohol?"
Oraka took a long draw on his current drink. "I don't see that it's any of your business."
"Normally I would agree with you, but Sha'ira has asked for my help."
"Ah." The general's glass hit the tabletop with a loud thunk. "Look, beautiful, I see what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, but it's not that simple."
"Why not? You're a great man, General. You're better than what I see before me."
"Evidence would seem to say otherwise."
"Anyone can make a mistake. What happened between you and Sha'ira, General?"
He grunted. "I've seen a lot of terrible things in my life and there's only one person who can make me forget them. I wanted to be with her permanently, not just another one of her clients. She turned me down flat. Me! Septimus Oraka!"
I nodded soberly. "Sitting drunk in Chora's Den, spreading falsehoods about her, solves this problem?"
"Sure as hell makes me feel better."
"General, you do not appear to be feeling well. In fact you appear to be quite unhappy."
"True." His talons fiddled with the half-empty glass, but did not pick it up again. "All right, Doctor, what would you suggest?"
I reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "General, set aside romantic daydreams and evaluate this like any tactical situation. You know her business, and you know how highly placed she is within that profession. How likely is it that she would set that aside? For anyone?"
His eyes held mine, his mandibles twitching slightly as he thought it through. "Not very damn likely, I suppose."
"It wasn't an insult to you, General. When she spoke to me about you, it was with respect and affection. She cannot be other than what she is . . . but you can still be the man who earned her admiration."
"Shut up and soldier, is that it?"
"It can't hurt," I said gently.
"All right." He finished his drink and set the glass aside, more gently this time. "I'll go talk to her. After I've had a cold shower. Or two."
"Thank you, General."
"Asari," he said with mock indignation. "You people think you can solve everything by talking about it. I suppose sometimes it works. Doctor, would you be willing to help me clean up this mess?"
"Certainly."
"One of the people who bought my story about Sha'ira is another one of her clients, an elcor diplomat named Xeltan."
I nodded. I had come across the elcor's name while I was researching the problem.
"He thinks Sha'ira burned some of his sensitive data, but the truth is that his information security isn't nearly as good as he thinks it is. I didn't have any trouble laying hands on his secrets. Talk to him, let him know he can turn his suspicions elsewhere, and I'll owe you a favor."
"I will see to it," I assured him.
"Hmm. I hope that human knows how lucky he is to have you on his side."
My face darkened slightly at the unexpected praise. "I think he does. If not, I will remind him."
"Hah!" Oraka rose, almost steadily, from his seat. "Come on, Doctor, let's walk out of here together and scandalize all the dancers who have been trying to get my attention for the past two hours."
* * *
I found the diplomat Xeltan at the Elcor Embassy, still in the process of lodging a complaint about Sha'ira's indiscretions. Once I got his attention, it took very little time to present evidence that the leak had actually come from General Oraka. It amused me that the elcor's first thought was not to shore up his information assurance posture, but to rush to Sha'ira and beg her forgiveness. Well, insofar as any elcor can be said to rush.
For my part, I sent the Consort a message indicating that her problem had been solved. Then I went out for a leisurely dinner, and spent two hours shopping for cases of wine to be sent to the Normandy. I had planned my first symposion for a few days hence, and I wanted to be sure we had plenty of supplies on hand.
As the evening wore on, I began to suspect that I would not be summoned back to Sha'ira until the following day. Then her return message appeared on my omni-tool.
Upon my return to the Consort's salon, Nelyna once again greeted me and escorted me up to Sha'ira's own rooms. I found the hetaira sitting at her ease on the couch, reading a datapad and sipping from a glass of white wine.
"Please, come in and be seated," she invited me.
I sat down on the couch, taking care to leave a safe space between the two of us.
"I just received a lovely note from Septimus," she continued. "He was quite contrite. I believe we will be able to repair our friendship in time. Even the elcor diplomat has halted his legal campaign against me. You have been a very great help."
"You may drop the pretense, Sha'ira," I told her.
She only gave me a look of cool appraisal. "What pretense?"
"This was not a difficult problem to solve," I pointed out. "I will admit that my research skills are above average, but what I could discover in an hour, any competent information broker could discover in half that time. You were never in serious danger, and could have resolved the situation at any time."
"You are very perceptive."
"I might have seen it earlier. What is really behind your interest in me?"
For answer, she handed me the datapad.
At first I couldn't be sure what I was seeing. It appeared to be a portfolio of investment holdings and financial instruments, but then I began seeing references to more tangible property. An eight percent share in Binary Helix Corporation, a four percent silent partnership in the Armali Council, large shares in several other corporations, an office building on Illium, a hunting estate on Cyone, large agricultural estates outside Armali on Thessia . . .
I felt the blood drain from my face as the truth became obvious to me. I paged up to
the top of the document.
Personal holdings of Matriarch Benezia T'Soni.
"I doubt that your mother ever mentioned me, Liara, but we were close friends once. Years ago she named me the executor of her estate, should she be taken up to the Goddess before her time. She had a number of small personal bequests to make, but the bulk of her estate was always intended for you."
"I don't understand. What does this have to do with my performing a task for you?"
She smiled. "You are correct that I could have solved that problem on my own. In fact I knew that you would have no difficulty solving it if you agreed to act as my agent. What I wanted to see was how you would solve it. Would you take the problem seriously? Would you use coercion and threats, or would you try persuasion? Would you treat Septimus with contempt or respect? Would you see the need to persuade Xeltan as well? Watching you attack this problem told me a great deal about you."
"A test?" I demanded.
"If you like. I have observed you from a distance, and your mother gave me some insight into your character, but I wanted a sense for the person you have become. I have considerable discretion in how the estate is to be divided. If you had proven unworthy of your heritage, I was instructed to act accordingly."
I looked back at the pad. "There is more here than I ever knew."
"I believe her personal net worth was on the order of six billion credits. It was a substantial fortune, although to be sure it was not comparable with the very wealthiest among the Matriarchs." She watched me closely. "What do you intend to do with it?"
It seemed like an immense fortune. There was so much I could do with that much money in my hands. Live in luxury for the rest of my very long life. Go back to my scientific work, with resources I could never have dreamed of before. Endow other scientists and scholars in their work . . .
No.
I had already taken my first steps into a larger universe. I couldn't use this power simply for my own pleasure, or even for the advancement of purely scientific interests. Far larger issues loomed close at hand: Saren and his geth, turmoil among the worlds, a cycle of extinction that operated on a galactic scale and might be about to occur again. If those were not dealt with, nothing else would matter.
