Work Text:
‘A "house in an Invictus jungle" is a modern turian phrase for an idea that seems like a good idea, but only to the one who came up with it.’
_________________________
The orange interface illuminated the hazy room. An unknown name with an unknown number appeared across the display, a red symbol in the corner marking it QEC. Under wartime protocol, it could only be a distress call.
______________________________________
“This is Garrus Vakarian receiving you from the SSV Normandy SR-2, Pranas System in the Annos Basin. I’m reading mayday from QEC 498-LR4. Do you acknowledge?”
Static, and then: “Garrus?”
“Hello? Who is this?”
A pause.
“It’s Lantar.”
“I... Say again?”
“Garrus, I need your help.”
“Sid-- I… Are you joking? How did you get through on this line?”
“I… Spirits, Garrus, I wouldn’t have called if I had anywhere else to turn, I-- The Hierarchy hasn’t responded, and we aren’t going to last long.”
“Where are you?”
“Uh, the jungle? I’m in a house. On Invictus.”
“What? This is a joke.”
“No, Garrus, I-- I swear. Fuck. I’m holed up with the resistance fighters and a group of civilians. The reapers are here, and it’s not looking pretty.”
“How did you get QEC access? If the Hierarchy isn’t responding… You would've had to manipulate the--”
“Heh. I learned from the best.”
“Sidonis, what…”
“There are kids here, Garrus. The damn bastards are relentless. You ever seen a horde of three-foot reaper marauders? Shit, it’s dark out there.”
“They’re harvesting kids?”
“They’re harvesting everything, Garrus. I-- I don’t know what to do.”
“I… What do you want to ask me, Sidonis?”
“You answered. Which means you’re still on the Normandy, which means you’re still with Shepard. I thought -- Shit, I thought maybe you could get us out of this.”
“Sidonis, I-- Shepard’s in the middle of talks with the Primarch and the salarians, and we’ve got about a million assignments stacked up after this. I don’t know that I can ask… Are you safe right now? Do you have weapons?”
“We’re safe for now, but I don’t know if we’ll last the night. Their forces are too big, I -- Fuck, I thought maybe if you could--”
“How big?”
“It’s more than I could chew. Hell, I’ve never fought an army of sentient machines before. And, uh... Well. You know I was never very good with the big guns. But with your help… It’s nothing we couldn’t knock out together. We don’t need to win. We just need to hold out long enough for a civilian extraction… And then you can get out of here.”
“Lantar.”
“Spirits, Garrus, I know how this must sound. I-- you don’t know what it took to make this call. I need--.”
“Why call me? What makes you think I can help you? That I would want to help you? There’s a whole galaxy out there burning.”
“Garrus, I’m not asking for old times. I’m not asking you as your… Fuck. Look. I’m asking you. As one turian to another. These families can’t hold out much longer. And... I can't do this alone.”
Silence.
“Garrus?”
“I’ll talk to Shepard. I can’t make any promises.”
“Spirits, Garrus, I-- I don’t know what to say.”
“Just hang tight.”
“Thank you.”
“Sidonis.”
“Yeah?”
“You joined up. With the resistance?”
“Yeah. After you, ah… Well. Shit, if we survive this, I might finally get to see Palaven.”
“What’s left of it.”
“You always were an optimist.”
A longer silence.
“I’m trying, Garrus.”
“I know.”
____________________________
Garrus steeled his core to stave off the shudder that was threatening to burn up his resolve. With a gasp of air, he curled over the battery’s terminal, gripping the cool metal edge until his talons creaked against it and his joints ached.
The last time he’d answered a call from Lantar Sidonis had been the worst day of his life.
Hell of a realization, for someone spearheading the defense for a war against galactic extinction.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that history was repeating itself. That no matter what Garrus Vakarian did, he would find himself perpetually in the same situations, making the same moves, the same mistakes. Losing the same battles. The same people. The reapers had been right about one thing. The cycle would continue.
Pushing up against the battery’s metal railing he shook his head at the floor. What would Shepard say, if he took this to the crew? “Tuchanka can wait, a few dozen barefaced turians need our help”? He could hear the dripping sarcasm rattling his brain. Or worse, they would remind him of the very real parallels between this and his last call with Sidonis. Why should he trust him now? The galaxy is at stake, Garrus, and you want to risk all our lives on the word of an ex-lover with a penchant for betrayal and lies?
But what if he’s not lying? Could you live with yourself if you watched him die? After all this?
Swallowing the doubt, his anxiety, and his pride, he pulled up his messaging terminal and tapped out a message to Shepard.
