A Numbing Effect: A Mass Effect Fanfiction

The King of Dark Things

Liara took a shaky breath, standing in front of the shuttle door as the auto pressurization system equalized the interior environment before the hatch gave way. The waypoint given to her by the Lord of Hunters had guided her to the derelict hull of the Normandy, but as she was unable to dock with the ruined ship itself, so she had piloted her small craft into the belly of the hulking spaceport, landing in the abandoned launch bay of the most secluded ship she could find in the outer layer of the station.

Even so the doctor had a tight clutch on the grip of Shepard's N7 Hurricane, thin fingers of her hand aching with tension. But she could not be sure what lay on the other side of the door, and her instincts screamed at her about the wrongness of the situation, of the danger.

For the first time since her rise to power in as an information broker, she faced an enemy she could not divine. That made her vulnerable. And vulnerable was the last thing she could afford to be, in this place of treachery and shadow.

When at last the door slid aside, she was greeted by an empty launch pad. Filth piled around the edges of the platform, drifts of stinking debris heaped in every corner where the landing jets of her shuttle had scattered it. The smell nearly made her retch, but she relaxed slightly. The faceless enemies she feared absent from the room.

She jumped to the floor, allowing a faint biotic glow to wreath her and push away the darkness. She progressed tentatively, scanning every corner with gun raised as she moved slowly towards the corridor at the far end of the launch pad.

'Look at yourself Liara, she thought, what has become of you. You move like a soldier now. What ever happened to the young doctor? The one that knew nothing of the violence of war? I guess she's gone now...'

Almost as quickly as the thought came she pushed it away. She couldn't afford to be distracted. There was too much at stake. She picked up her pace, dog trotting to the opening with militant care, weapon down but ready.

During the landing she had taken care to memorize the route that would take her to the SR-1. She did not linger, moving from catwalk to hall with calculated speed.

Along the way she moved through a dozen different ships, their fused hulls and modified passages creating a patchwork series of tunnels and channels that honeycombed the port. The effect was disorienting, walking from the crude utilitarian bridge of a krogan battle barge and into the elegantly sculpted living quarters of an asari colony ship.

In fact, only thing that seemed uniform in the odd station was the filth. It was oppressive, a hanging stench that permeated the stale, recycled air as she waded through the grime. Here and there she would see a forlorn soul amidst the dirt, a one legged batarian that slumped against the wall, dead or intoxicated she couldn't tell, and further down an emaciated vorcha scavenger that glared at her as she passed, its thin claw like hands clutching at some precious piece of garbage protectively.

Liara grimaced as she passed them. They were little more alive than the husks created by the reapers. Still, she had chosen her route with careful purpose, avoiding the crowded areas of the station. She doubted the wretches that inhabited the bowls of this underworld would even remember she had passes as they spiraled further into their drug fueled despair.

She paused momentarily as she emerged through a crude hole cut into the bulkhead of a batarian slave ship. Ahead the passage split into three separate alleyways. She didn't remember that from the schematics.

"By the goddess" she swore under her breath. She knew she was close, she couldn't be more than a deck or two below the abandoned hull of the Normandy now.