Mass Effect: Augment

Chapter 13: We’ll Bang Okay Part 2.

The Asari waved him down basically, shortly after pointing out to what looked like another snoop to Jon’s practiced eye. What the Asari was in her bright pink and white garb, complete with a matching traveling cloak, he almost didn’t want to guess.

The Asari polity urged the snoop on as he walked up. From his read it looked like they were both here for separate reasons, but the snoop was given the right of way. She offered a hand and Jon too it. She said, “Emily Wong. Freelancer.”

“Sheppard. Who are you?” He asked pointing and looking at the Asari.

“I am Nelyna, an Acolyte and Gatekeeper of the Consort.”

“Fantasy and myth, huh.”

“Indeed General.”

“And how did you both end up on my tail together?”

Wong spoke up, “She somehow knew I was looking for a talk with you, and offered to wait with me.”

Jon nodded like he understood, “Yeah acolyte of the Consort, they'll do that to you. Who and what is the Consort?”

Nelyna giggled, “She is many things to many people, and something different for each. Many do not know what they need, nor want when they seek her. Of course until after she had provided it to them.”

“An oracle, fair Gatekeeper?” Jon asked.

She giggled again, “Merely a woman, fair General. One with a remarkable spirit of compassion and generosity. I come only to pass word, that the Consort is available to you at any time.”

“Thank you, fair gatekeeper. Tell the Consort, the General comes.” He said seriously.

Nelyna couldn’t help but break and laugh genuinely. Wong joined in, so did Ashley, and Jenkins even took a breath to center himself and keep his watch up. She gave a small formal bow, and Jon met it with a nod. She turned and walked off, leaving one on the board, and one about to be placed on the board. Fantasy and myth, the translator no doubt parsed from a complex single word Citadel standard tongue.

“So, shoot.” Jon said to Wong.

She snorted again and said, “A sense of humor to boot. You took down fist. Thanks for that. I was staking him out when you and Wrex tore through. Don’t worry, no pictures. I just needed data Fist had for my story.”

Jon smiled, “I already like this interview better.”

She met it, “I heard about that. It’s how I knew you were on the Citadel.”

“What’s the word?”

“That you’re a crazy asshole, unsympathetic, she thinks.”

Jon scoffed, “In for a real surprise.”

“I mean you’re the General. People will know that.”

Jon nodded, “Damn right. So, did you just find me to fan girl?”

She scoffed, “No, I was hoping you would help me with the story. My corruption investigation naturally goes to the docks.”

“It always leads to the docks.”

“Damn right. It also affects the working conditions of the controllers.”

“Making the entire Citadel unsafe.”

“I mean can you imagine asking an honorable Turian to overlook corruption, then short them on benefits and pay to fund it, while threatening their livelihood, families? Then expect they stay focused properly on the job.”

“Sounds like a specter level threat.”

She chuckled, “You know Hubris is already trademarking that line. What I need is a bug planted. I’ll do all the work on shutting it down by exposing it, and all you need to do is plant it with the access I don’t have.”

She pulled a small bug out, advanced to Jon’s now amateurish eye, and held it out. He took it and said, “I’ll help, but maybe start wearing something a little more functional than an Asari dress if you’re going after shadows.”

She smirk, “You’d be surprised at it’s functionality, but I usually do. It helps me blend in more on the Citadel. I’ll leave you too it General. Thanks, really.”

Her continued smirk and sultry, confident step told Jon she knew she stiffed him on his help, did it intentionally just to say she did. He was the General, and a specter duly informed about a serious security breech. If he had any honor he needed to help without asking. Given his interactions with Von, some of the things he said like offering an assassination to a specter that should probably be stopping that, he wondered how much honor they had on average.

He turned to his squad, “Go, have your drinks. Take the rest of the day off. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure General.” Jenkins asked before Ashley could.

Jon nodded. Jenkins turned to Ashley and said, “Then I will buy you a drink, and we will see.”

She was taken aback again, red again, but grabbed his hand and jerked it towards the club door. Jon smiled and shook his head as he headed off to the cab platform. He climbed in and said, “Take me to the docks, close, but not too close to the control tower.”

The driver dutifully picked the cab up as Jon worked his tool to pay the Turian woman with a substantial tip, and took off for the docks at breakneck speed. It wasn't long to get from the upper wards to the dock near the Presidium, and the cab touched down a few minutes later.

The hatch opened and Jon said, “Keep the meter running.”

The driver simply nodded as Jon hopped out, and made way for the tower based on his map. He walked though the path in between various bays, and people milling around working the checking the cargo.

Two C-sec walked past, recognized him when he got closer, and then professionally continued with their patrol, paying him no heed. He entered the indicated entrance by the sign, and walked up the steps to the control room proper. Inside it, Turians were lined around it’s walls with some Asari and Salarians as well.

“Excuse me, you shou-” One of the Turians tired to say that turned and noticed him.

Jon met it with a warm smile, and they eyed one and other for another moment before the Turian simply turned and went back to their duties, pretending not to notice the General. Everyone in the room pretended not to notice. In response, Jon pretended not to plant a bug on an empty console, underneath it and out of sight. The room pretend not to notice that either. If the General was planting a bug, it was to find out the kinds of things that were going on in their post. That they were forced to do and overlook. He would find out, they all quietly determined together.

Jon simply turned then and walked away at a casual pace, back down the stairs, passed the docks, and to the waiting cab. He hopped back in and said, “Commons, near the Consort.”

The driver turned with a mandible ever so slightly flexed, but picked the cab up and took it back to the presidium, not even a full few minutes to get there. When it landed he tipped generously again, and crawled back out to the waiting commons. The cab was near the Consort, his HUD translating the sign, and he strolled in to the waiting gatekeeper.

Nelyna smiled and said, “The General has come indeed. She is available now, you may enter her sanctum, fair General.”

Jon gave a salute over his heart, and a small bow as he walked passed. In the room were various clients, and their attending acolytes. Most were Asari, but there was even one Human and a Turian. She would only be in the very back, past her court, so he walked there and entered the lone door.

There was a comfortable and welcoming air to the place, a small amount of incense burning, music ever so softly playing, the light dim even. He wondered if she prepared the introduction specially for him, or if all of her clients had hyper tuned senses being perfectly triggered just by walking though the door. He had to take his glasses and hat off to just take in the ambiance of the room as it was.

He got down the couple steps of the open entryway and into the room. The Consort was standing with her back turned, and on her was a dress fit for a care free goddess, flowing over her form, yet still leaving nothing to the imagination as was typical Asari dresses. It was certainly more revealing than even them, as typical dresses still covered much, while leaving out more interesting places. The back of it fell nearly over her own back.

She turned her head, “I have heard a great many things about you, General Sheppard.”

“The Consort a spymaster as well?”

He saw her grin, “You are an easy man to spy on.”

“I’m almost insulted.”

“Almost. What do you know of me?”

“I know I am honored for the invitation Consort, but only that. What is it exactly that you offer?”

She turned now, revealing the front of her form. The cloth hung down nearly as much of the rear, and the peaks of her mounds dimpled the fabric to the floor. She had a couple charms around her neck, bands on her wrists, a flat form fitting Asari tiara on her forehead, and on her face was dark eye shadow contrasting with white face paint, tattoos actually when Jon looked a moment more. Probably taken from Turian culture directly, as Asari are prone to do.

She flowed under her dress, wearing naught else and the slinky gown swaying with her chest. One side of the dress slipped over as she did, and it was payed no mind by the Consort of the Citadel. She had no reason to hide anything at all when in the privacy of her sanctum. She walked up to Jon, and reached for his his bad side and gently gauged it with the tips of her fingers, and the backs of them on her snake like hand.

She said, “That depends on who you are. To some I offer advice, some comfort, and other still…”

Her hand went down and over his shirt, then under it and settling in an almost interesting place. She got closer and closer, her chest into his, and her breath into his neck.

“Pleasure.” She finished softly into his ear.

The Consort pulled back some, but her hand stayed where it was, teasing on the edge of his belt. Both sides of her dress slipped with the motion. She said, “However today I am in the one need your services. Would the General aid the Consort?”

“Perhaps the General would, though perhaps he is not practiced in court intrigue and conspiracy.”

Her hand pulled from his shirt and did lower to a more interesting place. She said, “There be no intrigue, but a conspiracy indeed, fore three parties hath been entwined in it’s web.”

“Who be the third.”

“An Admiral, he be. One you have made acquaintance with.”

“And what hath he done.”

“Only mourn, many things. His needs be closure. His needs be you, and thine scared face.” She took her hand back and traced his face once again. She stared deeply into the scared over wound.

Jon took her hand in his, giving it a small kiss, “I will preform this labor for you, Lady Consort.”

He released it and turned away, placing his hat and glasses back on, and his hand on his hip as if with sword. The fact he was dressed like a hick was immaterial to the proceedings. He got to he door close before he had to stop and chuckle at the absurdity of it. Was this a plan, indeed a conspiracy to mess with his head as payback for the times he did it to them? Did someone on C-sec hire the Consort? He was never good at intrigue.

Just behind the admittedly well sound proofed door, he heard the howls of the Consort. He shook his head and walked normally back to the reception desk.

When he got there he leaned into a smiling Nelyna and said, “So, is every client catered to in such a unique way?”

She leaned in to match it, “While every experience is unique, I will quietly admit she pulled out some stops, as you say. I may have told her you picked up on the bit pretty quickly.”

“Fantasy and myth.”

“It’s fun, and adds some mystique and touch of intimacy to an otherwise snobby concierge industry.” She made her point with a soft brush of Jon’s arm.

He smirked, “So in all that, I didn’t actually catch what the problem was, or where to find the Admiral.”

She said, “The problem itself would be a matter of privacy between her and the Admiral. Admiral Septimus can be found in Cholera’s Den, a place I believe you are familiar with.”

Jon nodded with a scoff, “Thank you fair Gatekeeper, I take to the Consort’s quest.”

She giggled as Jon marched off again like a Yankee knight in the Consort’s court. He dropped his arm again with a chuckle as he crossed the door to her space. He found the shuttle pad again, and the same Turian woman was still waiting even.

“Lower wards, by the Den.” He said as he paid and tipped gratuitously again.

“Gonna shoot the place up again, General?” She asked for the first time.

Jon smiled, “Hopefully not.”

In a few minutes she expertly set the set the cab down again and opened the hatch. She said, “Keep it running?”

“Don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“You just paid a weeks wages in three trips. I think I can take the rest of the day off.”

Jon scoffed, “Fair enough. What’s your name?”

“Vetra. From the outer colonies. Laying low in the middle of a flock, if you catch my spit.”

Jon coughed, then again as he tried to keep his reactions at bay. He said, “Sorry, I’m having a bit of a strange day.”

“Going straight in to the Consort, I’d say.” Vetra said.

Jon nodded, “Was that an actual Turian expression, or is my head still being fucked with.”

“Yeah, its about Turian spitting competitions.” She said.

Jon breathed in, still trying to connect the dots, but figured he didn’t want to know. He said, “Yeah, thanks. I’ll hopefully be back out.”

She waved and got straight on her omi-tool as the hatch closed, even reclining her seat back. He walked out and onto the balcony entrance, and inspected his previous work. Whoever owned the place didn’t care to fix the bullet marks, or any of the pot marks. He entered the door and found the place at a more respectable volume than Flux, but still loud with vibrating basses. Every so often were half naked and naked Asari dancers, booths filled around their platform and poles.

He saw Deegan again, but he was leaned over for a private conversation with one of the bartenders. He left him be and zeroed in on his target. At only one table sat only one man. That man had noticed the new entrant to the bar while everyone partied and drank.

Jon met his eye and walked over to his table though the crowd, Septimus never breaking his stare. Jon got to his target and said, “Admiral Septimus. May I sit?”

He huffed hard, and took a hard swig of his drink. He said, “Polite of you to ask, General Sheppard.”

Jon waited a moment, “May I?”

He waved derisively, “Fine, you blasted fool. Do you wish to engage in a drinking competition, so you may humiliate me again.”

Jon slowly took his seat, and then removed his aviators. Septimus gave him a hard eye, then looked away to his drink again, which he drank again. An Asari server walked up, top half left wide open.

She said, “General, what can I get you. You’re on the House.”

“Not too broken up about Fist?”

“That guy was an asshole, cute but an asshole. The new boss much better, not as good looking, but not as handsy either.”

Jon smiled, he had an idea who the new boss was. House seemed to have an affinity for out of the way places to start his major expansions. He said, “A bottle of that Krogan swill, and whatever my friend is having.”

She nodded and walked off dutifully, bottom half only covered by definition. Septimus scoff, “So you have come to humiliate me, and you call me a friend? How dare you.”

“You only humiliated yourself, Admiral. And you’re doing it right now.”

“Why are you even here? To gloat.”

“I’m here on behalf of the Consort.”

“HA! That is rich.”

The Asari server walked back, somehow even less covering her form, and set the drinks own for the two. Jon passed her a generous tip, and opened the bottle for a swig. He tipped it back, and it burned going down but was sweet overall. From what he read about it in passing most thought it like broken glass, but the Krogan always claimed it was due to their weak tongues that they couldn’t truly savor it. Jon was close, he figured.

He said, “I am.”

“I believe it, that’s why it’s rich!” He said before a swig and continued.

Jon asked, “What is the problem exactly? You hate me, I get it. I mildly disrespect you, but why bring her into it? A woman that has probably done nothing but try to help you.”

“She rejected me!” He banged, getting lost in the bar din. He said, “Me! Septimus Oraka, Admiral of the Turian Fleet! She-She...Sha’ira is the only one that can help me forget. Terrible things. Terrible things I’ve seen in my day. Then you. Youuuuu.”

“Me. Who has seen his own terrible things.” Jon said as he took a harder drink from the bottle.

Septimus believed the look in his eye, if nothing else, and left a moment of silence hang. He leaned back in his chair and said, “How did you get that scar.”

“A bullet to the face liberating synthetics and carving order from chaos. I’m an old man, though I don’t look it I feel it every day.” He said after another drink.

Septimus chuckled, and laughed as he drank, “Liberate synthetics.”

“The shooter was one.”

“And you still tried to liberate them you fool?”

“There was no try. I only did. I stopped the Institute from making human beings in literally everything but name as slaves. Then after a bit of down time I took off to Chicago, and bombed the last major stronghold of the Enclave. People that would literally feed your child to their dogs for fun while vivisecting you for science. Then I knocked over the last remnants of them in Montana. A turn south brought me to the Legion, slavers, rapists, thugs and brutes little more they were. Then the last fortress remained. The last of any substantial resistance to the new order of things on the North American continent. On Earth. Washington. 292.”

Jon took a breath for a drink, and Septimus matched it. The Admiral said, “292 what.”

“People we saved, the whole point of Athena. Out of the tens of thousands. Maybe even hundreds, we’ll never know. 292 people survived the Washington Brotherhood, in the end. It ended up being the last ride of the of the last wasteland warriors. Me, the General. The Lyon. The Colonel. The Mother. The Courier. The Baron. The Lone Wanderer though most thought him dead save for me and one other. We were all broken by what we saw. Birthing factories. They would take the infants and start the cybernetic procedures early. Basic chips and wiring harnesses. Eventually you would get their patented interface port, made for a claw that attached to their hand. You would be their tool and nothing more. Ever. They even implanted bombs much like the Batarians, but the Batarians didn’t have the technology to continue to abuse your rotting corpse. Skulls. Floating skulls with their brains lobotomized and kept alive in fluid, on small thusters. Servitors they called them, adorned with Brotherhood seals, and prayers to High Elder Arthur Maxson, the Last Maxson. I assure you, that messed him up just reading about it more than any of us seeing it. You may have not even heard of the Brotherhood. It was a loss. We completed our military objectives, destroy the rouge Brotherhood chapter, and that was it. The Courier didn’t even take his payment. House even refused for his securitons. Hah, he called it a fucking public service what we did there.”

Jon took another heavy drink, and Septimus said nothing has he absently matched it. Jon said, “Those were my scars. I came to terms with them over decades, but I’ll never forget the white flashes as we lit the ruins of an entire state up, the heaviest bombardments since the Great War. I’ll never forget the bones scattered among the rubble of Seattle, pre and post Great War. The half dead half flesh machines that survived, and used the last of their life and will to resist us. Brotherhood still chanting Maxson's name, and their slaves that could do nothing else. We all go home after losing our nerve, the future put in the hands of others. I raise a kid with my wife, work in a lab playing with crystals, used that work to explore space. Something I always wanted to to. Meet aliens that didn’t kidnap and shoot us like the Zetans. Something else I always wanted to do. And then you, fucking you show up though that relay to take me back to war, break every hope and fucking dream I had when I tried to greet you in good faith. In peace. That's how I feel about you. My first bad day in over a century, a reminder of all the other bad days I had.”

Septimus drained his drink. He said, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. A lot of people got hit by my actions.” Jon said after a drink.

“Mine too. Why didn’t you just destroy us? You would have been within your right even under your own rules of engagement.”

“Would the peace have been as amicable?”

“We probably would have gotten over it, if slower, respected it even after the blood cooled.”

“Garrus Vakarian. That’s why your fleet survived. Your disobedient weapons officer proved to me that Turians had honor. I refused to kill a man that did what he did.”

Septimus scoffed, “Honor. I seem to have little of it these days.”

Jon swigged again, “Then regain it. Pick yourself up, and stop whatever is going on between you and the Consort.”

Septimus took a deep breath and flexed his mandibles. He said, “I was spreading lies that the Consort was leaking the a fellow client’s secrets. An Elcor named Xeltan that works in the embassy. I convinced him she was doing it, meanwhile I was the one leaking them.”

Jon nodded, “I’ll make sure it’s settled with them as well.”

“You’ll need this. Thank you, General. Do you think she would see me again?” He said.

Jon looked at the file sent to his omi-tool and genuinely said, “If you try to make it right with her, I would say yes Admiral.”

He nodded, and Jon took that as his mark to leave the man in silence to think. He finished the rest of the bottle, wondering if he would regret it later, and got up from the table. Not for nothing, the bottle was doing some work, but he judged he would be fine with it.

He got back out to his cab and climbed it, still feeling toasty. Vetra looked back, “Couple drinks sort it out?”

Jon nodded, “Yeah. Didn’t even have to shoot the place up again. I need to get to the embassies.”

She scoffed and nodded as she lifted her seat back up and launched the craft. It zipped back to the Commons with precision, though the other traffic and the buildings. She touched down near the embassy and once again opened the hatch.

Before Jon got out he said, “The Alliance could always use good pilots.”

“Pilots from the pirate territories, with problems trying to catch up?” She asked.

“Were you a pirate?”

“More like smuggler and shady deal broker.”

“Then you can charge a premium most likely with that kind of experience. Watch your problems try to catch up when you’re one of us. Hell, they'll probably send you after your problems with heavy firepower.” Jon returned.

She thought a serious moment, then nodded with her mandibles flexed in a sly smile. Jon gave a final tip and said, “Don’t wait up. Thanks for the lift.”

The hatch closed and he walked off and up the steps to the embassy district, following past the Systems Alliance door, and Udina’s yelling. He hopped Anderson wasn’t in there, had it confirmed when Anderson yelled back, and decided it was better that the Admiral was in there than him. He decided he didn’t want to spend on moment of his day off dealing with it. After all, taking to Udina and Anderson would be real work, not a side quest for a Lady like the Consort like he was on.

He entered the office and the Elcor ambassador was being slowly berated by Xeltan over the Consort, as if the man behind the desk had anything to do with it. Jon contained his reactions out of respect for the office and situation, but he internally had a laugh at the power the woman had. She really was a figure of myth, Jon determined. Stories would be spoken of her long after she died. If time was counted for that long. He internally grimaced as well.

“...It undermines my authority.” The complaining Elcor finished.

The Ambassador cut trough before he started another ponderous tirade, “Genuine hospitality. Welcome to the shared embassy of the Elcor and Volus, General Sheppard.”

“Or the Volus and Elcor shared embassy, General.”

“Minor annoyance. My way is alphabetical, Ambassador.”

The Elcor were large quadrupedal creatures, with folds where another mouth would be. As a species they were not particularity emotive, and compensated with their language.

Xeltan turned slowly and said, “Sincere apology, but this is important business, and can not be interrupted.”

Jon said, “I understand. That is why I am here, in fact. On behalf of the Consort. You may know I am a specter.”

“Curiosity. The Consort asked a specter to investigate my security leak?”

“Yes.” Jon basically lied. It was more like a legendary enchantress playing out her own personal fantasies, seducing a legendary warrior willing to play for his help, but close enough.

“Apprehension. And what have you found, specter?”

Jon told the truth, “Admiral Septimus leaked your secrets, and lied to you. Not the Consort.”

“Unbelieving. He could not learn my secrets. The only way he could learn them is from the Consort.” Xeltan replied.

Jon keyed his tool, and sent the file Septimus gave him to the Elcor. He ponderously lifted his left front arm up and eyed the file. He said, “Confused. This is difficult to process, if he could learn my secrets on his own...dismayed, I am truly compromised.”

“Genuine sympathy. But now you know.”

“Genuine Gratitude. Thank you, specter. I also know the Consort was blameless. Determination. The Admiral will pay for this.”

Jon said, “Friendly advice. I would recommend against that. I expect she will try to reconcile with him. Even if she wasn’t, I doubt she would reconcile with you as well if you follow that path.”

“Thoughtful contemplation. Resigned acceptance. You are right, she would be most displeased, and most likely already is conduct. Gratitude again, specter. This business here is concluded.”

Jon stepped aside and the Elcor meandered back out of the office. When he finally got there the door slammed shut. The Ambassador said, “My genuine gratitude as well. That was great what you did, General. Not many would be bothered to handle the situation so diplomatically. Approving.”

“Agreed, and I’m sure you stand to profit in some way as well...perhaps even a bonus...There is great respect among the Vol-clan for those of Earth-clan.”

Jon rose his brow and smirked at the ambassador. He got to a knee for an eye to eye conversation and said, “Don't we list the Volus as an existential national security threat? Like the top of the list?”

His suit lit up as he put a finger up as well, “That is why…”

He didn’t finish his breath before Jon lost his nerve and laughed merrily. The Ambassadors met it with chuckles of their own, the Elcor’s obviously more ridged than the Volus’s.

The squat ambassador said, “The Alliance understands the power markets hold…If commercially average on average...The Alliance shows us respect...we have not been given by many others...even our Turian patrons, number two on your list… Mr. House is a formidable foe...a pleasure to do economic battle with.”

“He convinced the forum you would manipulate our economy, to force us to join the Citadel when things finally opened up.”

“I had been given...the order to do so...the trade war continues as we speak.”

A double agent smiled back at the Volus ambassador, “I suspect House picked up Cholera’s Den, so watch your flanks in the low places.”

The Volus chucked, “We were aware...but thank you anyway...specter.”

Jon nodded and got up, “I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business.”

“Good day, General.”

“Give Mr. House my regards...if you speak to him at all.”

Jon nodded and walked out. His stomach called to him, and his nose lead him to the fare in the lounging sections. There were a couple bars on either end serving food, and a few stands and restaurants set in and under the levels of the concave park area. There were all kinds of alien dishes he could have tried, he spied, but he settled on the Commonwealth Noodles stand manned by an Asari.

He walked up and she said, “General, you’re on the House.”

Jon smiled. House like taking care of him when he could, for situations like Noveria. Some food and drink and whatever else at a reasonable price was worth it to grease the wheels of amicable cooperation with a wasteland warrior. Keep them on the neutral side at least. In the case of his Courier no price was too high.

He said, “Quad serving, all the fixings, and if you got some alien ingredients and spices throw em in. A Nuka as well”

She smiled back, “We’ve been calling that a mishmash. The noodles are a good base for just about anything. Let me tell you, Asari are going nuts all over for the stuff. We like anything new to an extreme, especially alien food and drink.”

Jon smirked as she put his order in. So that’s really what it was. As unique as the Consort had been for Jon, he was just as unique for her, a warrior of real myth. The fact he indulged her nearly completely? Maybe the incense was burning to cover her own, he wondered.

His food didn’t take long, noodles and prepped ingredients always fast. His order was bagged, either to take home or a table, and he chose a table. He popped the cap, a star underneath it obviously meaning something, and took a swig while pocketing it. The mutfruit based taste had changed greatly from its lost ingredients, obviously, and it was no longer brewed with radiation infusing it. Some of the old heads hated it, but Jon pefered a non-radioactive drink and most now never had a pre-war vintage.

He ate quickly finding rich variety in the fusion food, and tossed his trash before taking off to he Consort again. The Krogan swill has wearing off, but it was interesting to know he could party with it if he had enough of it. That was true for most anything, but gallons or kegs or kilos were much even for him.

He took in the park ambiance as he walked though it and across the canal. He took a moment to look, but spied no fish in the water. Wrex would probably be disappointed, he thought as he moved again. He walked up and though the door of the Consort’s court, and her Gatekeeper was still sanding her watch.

Nelyna said, “The General comes again. The Consort is waiting for you.”

Jon nodded seriously again with a bow and small salute, to her giggles. He walked passed the now empty court. He did not fail to notice the fact that the Consort wanted to meet in total privacy. When he got to the door, he assume his posture, that of an arrogant and triumphant knight.

It opened as if by spell, the Consort even waving her beckoning hand as it did. Jon heeded it took a some struts down the entrance platform's steps into the room, “The Consort a spellmaster as well.”

She smiled as she took her own steps forward, simply shrugging off her dress as she did, “And the warrior a diplomat.”

She left it behind, and her beckoning hand touched his face again. It slowly pulled his glasses from his eyes, and his hat from his head. She carefully put one in the other, then just as carefully walked it to a stand by her bed, showing Jon her curves in full. She then walked back again, Jon never breaking with her eyes, which only enticed her more.

She traced his scar again before speaking, “You are a hard man, Jon Sheppard.”

“And you are a tender woman, Sha’ira”

“You are even harder to read.”

“Yet you try.”

“Yes, I do. I see many things you could want or need. What is it that you think the General requires from the Consort?”

Jon’s lips crept up, and hers did as well. It was very clear what the Consort wanted and needed. But there was something Jon needed, and it wasn’t exactly her warmth. He said, “The General…”

“Yes?”

“Requires a massage, Lady Consort.” Jon sad with all seriousness.

Her whole face twitched as she tried to keep her reactions. She almost succeeded as she spoke, “A humble request. Is that all, however?”

Jon spoke honestly, grabbing her hand with his, “When you get to be my age, where I’m from, doing what I’ve done, you develop kinks.”

She tried again to contain herself, and Jon smiled, “Kinks that do not vanish, nor are defeated by normal means. An insidious enemy they are for one as dense as me.”

She took her other hand and slid it back under his shirt, gently touching his nerves between the tow points and getting a true measure of him. She could feel the full body tension even from the places she gauged. As the Consort, and only the Consort, she agreed with his assessment. It also told her he was a man that knew exactly what he wanted, and she could tell it wasn't exactly her, even if he was playing along, and would play along for her benefit. Curiosity, he felt from him more than anything from gently presses of his nerve points. Someone had felt him before, and she was his true desire.

She smiled warmly. It wasn't often the Consort was a simple test ride. Never in fact, but this was her fantasy. She was being catered to today. His needs only mattered as a starting point. The brave knight deserved a reward for his quest. A bonus even from the messages she got from both men.

She pulled one of her hands away and activated her comm, “Nelyna, dear. Your services are required in the sanctum. I will judge your technique.”

With a small shutter in her breath Nelyna called back, “Yes, Consort.

Her eyes were locked with his, and she took of his top flannel and tossed it away, onto her dress. Then came his shirt, exposing his still chiseled abdomen. While he gained a little fat over the years, decades of near sedentary life for an Augment combined with his body deciding there was actually in advantage in carrying some around over Khan’s child-like philosophy on superiority, it only added a hint of softness to his dense musculature that the Consort ran her hand up and down in lust. She traced the valleys of his own peaks with her finger.

Nelyna had finally entered, and took a sharp breath after only seeing his defined back and triceps. The Consort kept her eyes on his, “You will not need you clothes Acolyte. Remove his pants. I wish to inspect him first.

“Yes, Consort.”

Jon could hear the Gatekeeper removing her garb, and dropping it just as carelessly where she stood. Her feet worked against the floor until she was in a position to attend her Consort’s concubine. From behind she ran her hands over his back, tracing out his muscle groups and taking her own measure. She breathed sharply in again, this time for a more professional reason. Then they worked down to his waist, before they left to undo his boots, one at a time, then his socks.

Finally her hands were around him, and undoing his button and zipper. The Consort prepared by sliding her hand down in, gripping him and breathing sharply just as her Acolyte had. Nelyna lowered the final obstacles, and Jon stepped out of them and kicked them away. The Consort finally broke eye contact to look down and admired the member as her hand stroked against it slowly. Nelyna never stopped her feel, judging where would need work, where wouldn't, and deciding it all did.

She reached his tip with her fingers and introduced it to fine biotic control. Jon closed his eyes and took a breath at the shot of vibrating sensations pulsing though his body. The Consort smiled, and she would delay her hunger no more.

“Come.” She said as she began a near drag. Jon almost did as the jerk forced him around and to her intended destination, a table made for her rituals at the other end of the room.

It was softly padded, and had openings for both his face, and his more interesting regions. There were also places for which to mount in those places as well, and supports for his arms. The enchantress released her control of him, and gently guided him onto his front. He laid down, face positioned to the floor, and his manhood swaying down towards it as well. The Consort took a position front and center, and just in sight her could see her toes flexing and curling in anticipation. His were making their own motions as well, and he kept his breath steady and ready for what was about to happen.

The Consort started warming his upper back and shoulders were her expert fingers. She said, “You may begin, Acolyte.”

“Yes Consort.” She said.

Nelyna’s hands graced him once gain, starting on his lower back. Biotic pulses gently seeped into his muscles and spine, and a little stronger once she got a feel for what it would take. A little stronger again before she moved on. Her warming motions moved down his glutes and onto his legs, one at a time. The Consort moved onto an arm, moving somewhat to the side, then back over to the other arm. She completed her circuit and ended back on his upper back, then moving to warm the center of it. Already he felt tension he had for years nearly melt away, and they hadn't even started yet.

“He is ready.” the Acolyte said.

“Is he?” The Consort nearly chided.

“Ah-y-yes Consort.”

“If you are not sure, then do not speak it.” She did lightly chide now.

“Apologies Consort. I am sure.”

The Consort left her position and walked over to the nervous Acolyte, kissing her Jon could only hear. She said, “It’s alright darling. Service my knight.”

“Yes Consort.”

The Consort took her potion at the head of the table again, and once again worked her biotic fingers into the nape of his neck and around. Nelyna began the real work then as well. There were no soft biotic fields. She traced her fingers to a chosen nerve, and pressed sharp as as shot straight though his body. Every muscle in his back contracted, and they were both there with soft hands again to calm them has he grunted. His breath hitched for a second, and then continued on its controlled pace again. It was total relief when the contractions settled down, worth a king’s ransom for it and it alone.

Nelyna then ran her hand up and down his spine, her first to fingers tracing either side. Jon could smell more clearly their heat, and see the drip just beginning to run down the Consort’s leg as she attend his needs before hers. It was as sweet as her jealousy would no doubt smell to his superior nose. Given the volume he saw, it may have even been a musk that outright marks territory rather than a simple indicator of arousal.

The Consort continued gently working her fingers into his shoulders, and Nelyna found his mark on his spine. Choosing the one side, she pressed hard, and shot another pulse though him, causing more contractions, a loud pop, and grunts again. They hadn’t even got to the sexual pleasure yet, and Jon was already close. His breath stopped, and picked back up again.

The Consort gently stoked the back of his head, feeling his stubble hair, as her other hand repeated it’s warming motion with Nelyna in response to his spasms. She said, “A strong warrior. One that needs not be told to breath.”

Jon didn’t respond. It was about her at that point, and her statement needed no retort. Nelyna found another point, and jolted him again with her sharp biotics and fine control, then warmed his muscles again. Then he steadied his breathing again.

She moved down to his legs, done with his back. Her finger traced his hamstring, biotics vibrating away against it. Then she worked the muscle to either side with both hands before working the back of his knee. She found the desired nerve, and her pulse ripped his lower leg up and slammed it back down into the table, denting it even.

“Careful, Acolyte. Mind his strength.” The Consort admonished.

“Yes Acolyte.”

Jon worked his foot around a bit, and breathed deep as another kink washed away on the alter of the Consort. While Nelyna more gently repeated the process with his other leg, getting only a jerk this time, the Consort worked his arms more in depth. Her biotic thumbs worked into his triceps, and then into both sides of his elbow. Her own pulses into his nerve points elicited their own more controlled reactions. As the ritual continued, the Asari pheromones began to drown out all other smells in the room, even the incense still burning. ‘

When is other arm and leg were done, the Consort had clearly had enough of the foreplay. She said, “I believe my knight’s front needs worked. Let us stretch him one final time from the back.”

“Yes Consort.”

Nelyna mounted Jon, rubbing her drip into his spine she she positioned her hands for the stretch. She grabbed his arms just passed the shoulder and used her weight on his lower back as the fulcrum to achieve it. Aided with biotics, she gently pulled his top half from the table, bring him face to face with the smiling Consort again. With one hand she was gripping and toying the peak of her mound, and with one finger the top of her folds, and the source of the musk. It was leaking around her index, and she used it along with a small biotic flair to flick it directly into his sinuses. He felt his pupal dilating, and the aphrodisiac drew him into its sweet sent and power. It wasn't overwhelming, but if he was playing the Consort’s fantasy it was, and it was indeed powerful.

“Help him turn.” She said as Jon was lowered back down.

Jon tried to move under his own power, but found his body loose and flaccid. Even his mast was down from the deep penetrating work into his muscles and nervous system. Nelyna gently put her hand on him, and wrapped him in a biotic support field to help him move. It warmed and soothed him as their hands themselves did, and with a small amount of effort he was turned and on his back. Jon’s breaths were still controlled, but heavy and deep.

Jon could see more now, like the bit lower lip on the Consort, and the dejected look of the Acolyte, only there as the help with such a warrior on their table. Ritual must be preformed however, and they both began working him with the low warming fields, sapping away tension he didn’t even know had in his various muscle groups.

The the Consort’s moment had finally arrived. The Acolyte took her position at the head, beginning work on his chest and splayed out arms, and the consort mounted one of the interesting places. Jon simply could not get up, in any way, but that did not deter her. He ran his hands though his mane, something again she had never seen nor done, and then gripped his rod with a biotic hand. It pulled the blood through him and into where she wanted it to be.

He drip was coating it, her hand working in it when they met eyes again. She stared through his scar and slipped herself down onto him, eliciting reactions from both. Asari nerve endings in that place did not terminate in a cluster. There were several wrapping nerve clusters to meet her knight’s size. The Consort moaned softly. Jon shut his eye and drove his head back. His abdomen flexed as he grunted. It was like soft velvet, resisting at first, then constricting and engorging around his superior sensitivity as she slid on him.

She began her ride as the Acolyte reminded him she was there with a poke on a nerve center, twitching his arm almost back into his body. Her work continued down it and into his hand. The Consorts ride was a steady pace up and down, with the perfect back and forth angles woven in. She was an expert in such matters, and needed nothing to stabilize her as she balanced on her perch. Her hand played with one of her enflamed peak, it too seeping, and the other hand worked the top of her engorged fold, flinging their drip onto him.

Nelyna had found his hand, and positioned herself well work his lower arm. She stood on her toes to get his fingers in range. A pulse of biotics in a center shot them up and into her. She hit it again and again, and Jon did his best to oblige her. He still had some control, and worked his thumb and fingers into her.

“Stealing pleasure from my knight? When he isn’t breathing?”

“Oh no.”

Jon could only get in and out small ragged breaths, his whole midsection was on fire with orgasm, but he couldn’t push and finish. The enchantress was using her powerful sorcery to prevent the release.

Nelyna rushed over to his side, and felt for his never centers as quickly as she could. The Consort gave her a flick on the tip of a very sensitive tendril, never stopping her ride. She went back to moaning and marking, throwing some even on her Acolyte as she found the correct points.

She shot a pulse of biotics into the first one, and he took a sharp, deep breath in. Then the second to let it out. She repeated the process, and Jon’s chest moved up and down in a controlled manner once again.

When the Consort was satisfied once again, she said, “Very good, Acolyte. You may have your pleasure while you work my knight.”

“Thank you, Consort.”

Nelyna mounted her own interesting place, right above his tongue. He obliged again, the best he could. She would stab a point, and he would breath in. with the respite he took in her sweat taste rolling onto his tongue, and then she would stab again into his side to force the breath out, giving him respite again to continue his knightly obligations. He abdomen was permanently contracted, and his head was throbbing with each tight pull up to near the end, before the squeeze back down nearly to the hilt of his sword. Given the amount of drip wetting his crotch and thighs, and his face, they had both reached their own climaxes a couple to a few times. But he would only be allowed once, and only when the Consort allowed it.

“Leave us” Was all she said.

The Consort didn’t even reply. Simply got off and away, and walked out the door without even her garb. Jon had stopped breathing again, in orgasm for nearly as long as she had been riding him.

“I will remove that whore’s sent.”

Her breast hand squeezed and it sprayed onto his chest, and aimed for his face a small burst at a time. She leaned down and began an even faster, more wild ride. Her tongue went into his mouth, her sweet taste coming even from those glands. Her wet body rubbed against his faster and faster as the limits of his air were being hit, still twitching, still flexing, still throbbing.

She broke her kiss and looked deeply into his pleading eye. It wasn't for what she thought however. He knew what she was going to do, and if he could have spoken or done anything under her thrall it would have been to warn her.

“Embrace eternity.”

Jon had no control over anything, let alone the red gash in his mind. His eyes went bloodshot and rolled back, the anger flooded through, and the cries overtook them both.

REVENGE! REVENGE! RE

The Consort yelped as she broke the connection. She shot up on it, and every instinct clawed at her to run, or to kill, above all to take revenge. She was the proud Consort of the Citadel, a living myth and the fantasy of most. She was more disciplined than that. She knew her warrior of legend did not mean what happened, what she felt, and she knew his emission need to be in it’s place.

“Ah-aaaa-a-Oh, fuck! Fuck…” Jon heaved with everything he had, everything that had been held back by her spell before she stumbled into his haunting demons. His shoulders came up from the force of it, and the Consort had her own final sounds at the force and strength of his seed. If she was not the Consort, she would take it and birth a warrior Asari, like the fantasies and myths. Whoever the Asari she just felt the touch of was a lucky woman indeed, and no doubt worthy to give their species his gifts.

“S-s-sorry.”

“By the Goddess what was that, Jon?” She said as she slid further down, taking his softening member into her as if it was his hand.

“A Prothean beacon...i should have warned you.”

“I am so sorry. I should have warned you. Only another skilled Asari or a Krogan can take what you just took. I didn’t mean to invade you like that.” She said as she rubbed his chest.

Jon forced out a couple chuckles, “Yeah, you did, but I was into it until I had a moment of near death clarity. Not the first time, trust me I know.”

She giggled, but then got serious again, “What was that Jon.”

“The end of the Prothean civilization. A cry for revenge. It’s...not good. I’m scared...i just hope I can stop it.”

Now she was scared, and prayed to the Goddess for her warrior’s safety and strength. She leaned down and touched her forehead to his, then brought it back up, tracing his scar again, staring deeply into his good eye, taking a better measure now that she had context, “I see the sadness behind you’re eye now. The true sadness. You hide it well, but I am the Consort. It tells as story that makes me want to weep. Pain and loss, but it drives you, makes you strong.”

She stopped tracing his scar around the ruined socket, and ran her practiced finger directly over it, inspecting it as she did his good eye, “It is that strength that people are drawn to. It is why you lead and other follow, without question. You will need that strength in your coming battles, my knight.”

She ran her hand from his eye, and around the stubble of his strong jaw, “But you never hide that strength, either. It serves you well, terrifies you foes. Few dare stand against you, but those that do be mighty. But so be the General. I know you will stop them Jon. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. When you get up, I will leave you with one final boon, my Knight, a trinket to some, a mystery to others, perhaps something that can help in your quest.”

She gave one last rub, one last pull with her azure warmth, and dismounted her alter and knight. Jon took deep controlled breaths again, and readied himself for the labor of walking away from what happened to him.