Chapter Text
Bull paid a vent rat a hundred credits—total robbery, but the kid looked like he hadn’t seen a decent meal in a few weeks and could stand to have something to chew on besides Keeper shit—to update him on the comings and goings of ships on the Citadel. The kid had designed a pretty nice crack for the docking logs for the ports, and it wasn’t too much of a hassle for him to scrub the results as they came in, parsing the names and sending info Bull’s way.
He was dicking around the wards when his omni-tool beeped with the message: The Inquisitor had docked with a twelve hour permit, and Augustine Cadash was aboard The Citadel.
Finally. After more than a month of stalking her favourite haunts and trying to figure out where the hell she’d disappeared to. Rumour had it she was fighting off some human supremacist group—a Cerberus knockoff that’d starting fucking up everyone’s day over the course of the last year—but there wasn’t anything to substantiate it. Not really. Assholes popped up all the time; the only thing that made this one special was that Cadash herself was looking into it. Back on Par Vollen, the Qunari had a saying: where there were ataashi there was blood. Cadash seemed to follow the same rules.
He nodded towards Krem, who broke off negotiations with one of the bastards trying to overcharge them for some simple maintenance gear, and headed for the skycars.
“Where we off to, chief?” Krem asked.
“The eagle has landed.”
“Starting to regret letting you watch those vids.” Krem grumbled, gamely tucking himself into the passenger seat. He wrapped a tight, white-knuckled grip on the door. “You mean Cadash?” Bull nodded, craning his neck far enough to the side that he could safely drive without his horns scraping up against the inside of the door. “‘Bout time. Grim and Stitches lose any more goddamn money on the gambling circuit and they’re going to be chased out of the system.”
Bull chuckled. His people had been collecting info on Cadash since she’d been promoted to officer—standard procedure for all Alliance personnel. About a year ago, she’d been stripped of rank and kicked out of the Alliance; since then, her file had about tripled in size. Everything they knew about her suggested she’d hit up one of three bars on the lower decks of the Citadel within twenty-four hours of docking. Bull and his guys only had to stake them out until she showed up.
There were a lot of unanswered questions when it came to The Inquisitor. The Alliance seemed to be under the impression that it was manned with bounty hunters. BH Command classified them as privateers—then again, they did that with every non-military vessel with suspicious private funding. And that was a secret better locked down than the stripping of Cadash’s rank. Wherever they were getting their credits, it paid enough to let them travel independently and chase down whatever caught their interest.
Krem coordinated the stake outs, and he and Bull ended up at Shepard’s Rest. It was the smallest of the three bars, and apparently run by a relative of the infamous Commander herself. Whether there was any truth to the claim aside, it served the least expensive drinks on the Citadel—insofar as they had the smallest water to alcohol ratio, anyway.
They set up in a small corner table with clear line of sight on the door.
“According to your vent rat, The Inquisitor’s only docked overnight,” Krem said, scanning the report. “She might not even show up to her regular haunts if they’re heading out again right away.”
“She’ll show,” Bull said. “And even if she doesn’t, I asked Quarry to stick a transmitter on her hull.”
“Great idea, chief. Nothing gets a lady off on the right foot like stalking her,” Krem muttered.
“How would you know what gets the ladies off?”
“Fuck you, chief.”
Bull laughed and slapped Krem’s shoulder. He got his hand back uninjured; Krem must’ve known he was kidding.
They waited, nursing the same few drinks, until 2248. Krem was getting obviously droopy, Bull had exhausted the number of red heads in the bar, and none of the others had gotten back with a sighting.
“You jinxed us, Krem.”
Krem muttered something incomprehensible into the dregs of his drink—it was probably better for both of them that Bull hadn’t heard.
Finally, at about 0015, both of them getting ready to call it a night and rely on less direct means of putting themselves in contact, Cadash walked in the door.
Bull knew about humans from the Thaig system. Hell, Rocky’s mother had been from there. He knew what to expect from a Dwarf: short, large muscle mass, typically the sort of ‘fuck off’ attitude he liked. Cadash probably only came up to his waist, with intricate tattoos spread in structured architectural lines from her chin to her brow. Her skin was a few shades darker than he expected from her service picture, and her black hair was pulled back and away from her face in tight rows of braids that swept out into a sea of wiry curls. Overall, she looked like someone who could fuck him up if she was inclined. At least with a carefully placed punch at eye level. Her eye level, anyway.
Her companion was an unusually tall yet typically severe-looking Turian; likely her second-in-command, Cassandra Pentaghast. She had a file all her own; not many people could tack ‘ex-Spectre’ onto their resumes.
Bull waited about half an hour, until Cadash was starting to shoot furtive glances at the door and was obviously giving up on whatever contact she was here to meet, before he decided it was time.
“Want to introduce me?” Bull asked Krem.
Krem nodded and stood—only slightly wobbly, which spoke to some impressive stamina on his part—and headed across the bar. Cadash greeted him with a broad grin and an appreciative once-over; Cassandra with a quiver in her fringe that suggested she’d like to break him over her knee. Less than a minute later, Krem waved him over.
“Ladies,” Bull said, dropping into a chair across from them. Cadash gave him an appreciative once-over, too. Bull liked her; she had taste. “Let me introduce myself. They call me The Iridium Bull.” He grinned.
“Iridium Bull,” Cadash repeated, as though she couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth. Despite that, she had a keen eye, and her appreciation quickly turned into something more analytical.
“The Iridium Bull. I like having an article at the front. It makes it sound like I’m not even a person, just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction... That really works for me.”
“Right.” She leaned back in her chair. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve heard impressive things about you and your crew. I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking a few more people aboard. Many hands, light work and all that.”
“No,” Cadash said. “No Qunari simply wants to sign up aboard a private ship without an ulterior motive. You’re either Tal Vashoth—and don’t get me wrong, I’ve met some perfectly lovely TV Qunari—who need a quick escape from the bastards sent to kill them.” Bull clenched his fist under the table. “Or you’re one of the bastards. Which is it?”
“Bit of both,” Bull admitted. “I pose as TV to get an in with people who aren’t fans of the Qun. But I’m in active contact with our Ben-Hassrath Command. They heard you were the one to talk to if we wanted to get good with the Alliance through backdoor means.”
“I need a lot more to drink before anything goes in my back door.”
Her Turian made a pained noise that shuffled out of her fringe in a huff of air. Bull grinned.
“But I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong door. Might want to update your files, because the Alliance and I don’t get along anymore. The Inquisitor isn’t an Alliance vessel, my crew aren’t Alliance soldiers and the fact that they still call me ‘Commander’ is because my people are terrible at breaking old habits.”
Cassandra looked annoyed, but didn’t refute the fact.
“Yeah, which makes it perfect for us. I know you still get Alliance communiques, and if you’d be willing to share them with me, I’d be willing to share the intel I get from my people with you.”
Cadash’s eyes hardened. “Just because I’m not Alliance doesn’t mean I’m willing to commit treason.”
“Not treason. My people don’t always get Alliance news passed along, even when it directly effects us. You send me anything you get not categorized as confidential and I’ll do the same.”
Cadash considered him through narrow eyes. “Seems to me you could find other ways of doing this.”
“Yeah, but then it’s all Batarian whispers. This way, I forward it right from the main source. No hearsay, no embellishments, no speculation. And to sweeten the pot, I bring along my guys to help you aboard your ship.”
“You think we need mercenaries aboard?” Cassandra demanded.
“My guys aren’t just mercs. They’re the toughest, baddest ass group of assholes you’ll ever know. And from what I hear has gone down between you and the Venatori, having a group of professional ass kickers along would be an asset.”
Cadash stared at him, peering over the rim of her glass with narrowed eyes. “How many?”
“About a dozen.”
Cassandra gaped at her; or, as much a she could under the hard bone ridging her eye sockets. “You’re not seriously considering this.”
“I am, actually.” Cadash straightened. “We ship out at 0700 tomorrow. Get your asses on board and stowed by then. You get a probationary six months like everyone else on my crew. We’ll see how it goes. You fuck us over, you eat atmo. Get it?”
“Got it, Commander.”
Cadash sighed and tossed back the remainder of her shot without a blink. Business concluded, Bull stood, and Krem quickly crossed the space between them, settling at Bull’s left side.
“Do you want me to salute?” he asked.
“Fuck off, Bull.”
He saluted anyway and Cadash returned it with an obscene hand gesture.
“She’s terrifying,” Krem confided as they made their way back to the scuzzy little apartment where the others were holed up.
“That get you hot?” Bull asked.
“It does, actually.”
Bull chuckled.
Bull’s people had dossiers on every known member of The Inquisitor’s crew, but there were reports that suggested the Commander had gotten into the habit of picking up randoms from across the galaxy and offering them commissions aboard her ship. It was part of what led to her falling out with the Alliance. Well. Blowing up one of their research facilities probably didn’t do her any favours, either, though even the best and brightest of the Ben-Hassrath haven’t been able to get into that set of sealed files.
Coming aboard, he already knew the command crew from their files, though it was nice to connect faces to names instead of holos. The rest of the crew was majority human but there were exceptions. Bull was the only Qunari, obviously, and judging from the side-eyes he kept getting, he was the first they’d seen.
He was still getting the guys settled into the barracks put aside for them when he was paged to the briefing room.
“Good luck, chief,” Krem said from the top bunk he was still defending from Grim’s attempts at a hostile takeover.
Bull winked and headed for the lift. The ship’s VI had sent schematics to him and the Chargers once they’d gotten on board, and he had a vague notion where he was going, at least. Skyhold-class vessels had initially been intended for colony migration—extended living quarters added in to hold families for long periods of time. The Inquisitor had more than a few mods that made it battle ready, though he didn’t trust its maneuverability worth a damn. Not without one hell of a pilot.
He made it to the right floor before a three-way intersection gave him pause.
Fortunately, the VI seemed on the ball. “The Iridium Bull, if you take the left corridor and follow it to the end of the hallway, you’ll find Commander Cadash as well as her command team waiting.”
Whoever programmed it must’ve been a beast with coding; it sounded real enough that Bull could almost envision someone walking at his side.
Bull found them right where the ship said they’d be.
“I have found The Iridium Bull for you, Commander,” the VI announced as Bull entered the room. “Will there be anything else?”
The Commander shook her head, her attention still obviously on the Galaxy Map. “Thanks, COLE. Nothing for now.” She finally looked up. “Everyone, meet The Iridium Bull. He and his troop are joining up to help us with the Venatori.”
She began pointing around the table. “Bull, you know Cassandra, my XO. Fen’Harel vas Solas. That’s Blackwall. Vivienne. Sera’Jenyy vas Inquisitor. Dagna is my Head Science Officer. Josephine Montilyet takes care of everything important. And Varric Tethras, our pilot, is up top.”
“I will convey your greetings to him, The Iron Bull,” the VI added. There was a brief pause. “Mr. Tethras informs me that you have added significant weight to The Inquisitor which will impede his ability to properly pilot the vessel. However, I believe these calculations to be incorrect, as the Skyhold has a functional capacity of five thousand six hundred and fifty-four, with only 38% current occupancy. I will advise him of this error as soon as I complete my own assessment.”
“That won’t be necessary, COLE. Varric was joking,” the Commander said. She sounded suspiciously fond—Bull filed it away. It was always interesting when people started warming up to what was supposed to be a VI.
“I will cease auxiliary calculations, then.”
The Commander gestured to the map, and everyone turned their attention back to it. “The Venatori have been making waves in a lot of human colonies, especially ones that are still recovering from the destruction of the Mass Relays. From what we’re able to tell, they’ve got a substantial following on Matumaini - we’ve got a team planetside, and they’ve sent me the coordinates for what looks like a research facility. We’re going to shuttle down and rendezvous with them about five miles east, then do some old fashioned explosive reconnaissance.”
“‘Explosive reconnaissance,’” Bull repeated. “I like it.”
“Good, because you’re going to be coming with me.”
Cassandra’s throat vibrated with a disgruntled trill. “I don’t condone this course of action, Commander. We don’t know this ‘Iridium Bull’ at all. Take Blackwall.”
Bull sort of respected her more for the distrust, as much as he could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass.
“Field tests are the best way to get acquainted with a new asset.” The Commander winked at him. Krem would be deliciously jealous. “Dorian and Lace will meet with us at 0500 tomorrow. Sera?”
“Gussie?”
“You up for shooting some shit?”
“Always.”
“Good. Bull, meet us in the shuttle bay at 0430. Everyone dismissed.”
‘Lace’ he knew. Lace Harding was another Thaig system Dwarf who’d been serving with The Inquisitor since before Cadash had gotten her hands on it and stayed aboard when she liked Cadash’s pitch. But Dorian? His people were falling down on the job—he wasn’t sure who Dorian was. Maybe the unknown human they’d picked up from Omega a few months ago; they’d gotten the report on it, but been unable to get many details. The Inquisitor’s security systems had gotten a definite upgrade since Cadash had taken control, and he was starting to suspect he knew why.
He kept quiet until he made it back to the lift. If there was something hinky with their VI, Quarry could find out about it. And if they caught her at it—something no VI had managed in the years since she’d left Rannoch—they’d know for sure.
“What’s COLE stand for?” he asked the ceiling.
“Compassionate Output Logic Engine,” he replied. “I have been informed that I have uncannily realistic mannerisms.”
“That you do,” Bull mused. He grinned and tapped the wall with his knuckles. “We’re going to get on fine.”
They shuttled down to the planet at 0500, as promised. Space travel messed with your perception of time, but Bull was pretty sure that it felt as early as the clock said. Sera and the Commander looked bright and chipper. Or, well, as much as they could behind their blast helmets. The Commander had a couple of small pistols hooked into her side, and Sera was carrying what was, without a doubt, the sexiest looking sniper rifle he’d ever seen.
About halfway down, he noticed her keen eyes on him again. “See something you like?” He spread his legs a bit and the Commander laughed.
Cadash tilted her head towards him. “I keep wondering if your horns are as big as your—” The engine roar drowned her out.
They reached the surface a few minutes later. As soon as they jumped out, the ground party emerged from behind a small outcropping of rocks. Lace Harding’s picture did her justice, for once, though her hair was coiled behind her head a bit differently.
And then Dorian. Well. Bull’d always said the pretty ones were the most dangerous.
“Commander,” Harding said. Her arm twitched at her side like she was physically restraining herself from saluting. “We’ve been tracking Venatori movements in and out of the facility for the past week. There’s been about fifteen coming and going, but the facility is big enough that there might be more inside.”
“Thanks, Harding. Any indigenous wildlife going to be jumping me on my way in?”
Harding smirked. “Not this time.”
“Thank god. Head back up to The Inquisitor,” Cadash said. “Get COLE to add your findings into the system. He’s got some weird formula that he says will predict their movements if we give him enough info to work with.”
Harding nodded, refrained from saluting again, and hopped back onto the shuttle.
“Bull, this is Dorian Pavus. Dorian, The Iridium Bull.”
Dorian eyed him speculatively, his gaze zeroing in on his cybernetic eye for only a moment before taking in the rest of him. If Bull hadn’t been wearing armour, he would’ve flexed. He finally finished whatever silent assessment he’d made. “I thought Cassandra put a moratorium on bringing more strays aboard.”
“What can I say? They keep finding me.”
“So I see.” There was some heat in the look Dorian passed Bull’s way, but it was gone in an instant like evaporating dew.
The Commander took point, and they fell into a natural pattern behind her. It wasn’t difficult terrain—a few rocks here or there, but the path was smooth and they made good time. About half a mile in he spotted the first of the sensors lining the road.
“Should I—” He raised his assault rifle.
“Needn’t bother. I already overrode them,” Dorian said. “As far as their security is concerned, it’s going to be a blissfully firefight-free day.”
“Sick,” Sera said, delighted.
They made a stealthy approach as far as they could go, but it was all open ground for about a hundred feet around the entrance to the facility. It was carved into a solid rock face that stretched out behind it into a small mountain range; meant it was less likely they had a back door, at least.
“Two security flanking the door,” the Commander said. “Probably live radio feeds, if their other bases are anything to go on. Still. Sera?”
Sera picked the two of them off with one carefully-placed shot apiece; their heads rocked back, one after another, with surgical precision only seconds apart.
“That’s the hottest thing I’ve seen all day,” Bull admitted. Krem was a fantastic shot with a sniper rifle, but liked his dramatic shots more than his killing ones.
“Eww. Keep your thingy away from my baby,” Sera ordered.
They weren’t more than halfway across the open ground when the door opened and a river of Venatori toughs came rushing out.
“No more than fifteen,” the Commander huffed, firing wildly into the crowd. There were a few heavy-looking crates closer to the entrance, as long as they could get to them unmutilated.
“We said it was an estimate!” Dorian replied. He flung his hand out, and the eerie blue biotic glow enveloped his arm for a mere second before three of the Venatori were sent flying. They crashed into the side of the mountain and didn’t get back up.
Sera picked off two more; she took her time with shots that weren’t a sure thing.
Bull enjoyed finally getting to shoot something. Krem said Bull customized his ammo to make it especially showy, but he couldn’t help it that exploding bullets came hand in hand with a little extra panache.
The Venatori took cover as Dorian and Sera skidded to a stop behind one of the crates, leaving Bull and the Commander behind another.
“Your horns are sticking up,” Cadash muttered.
“The left one is mostly synthetic,” Bull said. “Got blasted off during a gunfight a few years back. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
Sera guffawed. “Bull. Rodeo. I geddit.”
“We all got it, Sera,” Dorian replied.
“Shut it, you.”
They all seemed to be using variants on the old Carnifex models. He counted shots, ducked out of cover once they reached the max in the clip and picked off the Venatori who’d been firing.
In the temporary ceasefire, the Commander stood and whipped a grenade over top of the crate behind which the remaining Venatori were hiding. Seconds later, they had a clear path to the door.
“Gotta love a woman who packs a hand grenade,” Bull murmured.
“You keep hitting on the Commander and Josephine’s going to have COLE deactivate the water recycling next time you’re in the shower,” Dorian commented.
“Then I guess we’d have to share,” Bull grinned.
“Ugh.” Dorian nose wrinkled in disgust, but there was a shadow of a blush flitting across the bridge of his nose. “Where did you find this one, Commander?”
“He found me,” the Commander said. “Come on.”
Everyone who’d been in the front room had apparently come out to play already; the inside was completely empty. The only terminal in the room seemed to have been deliberately short-circuited, but Dorian headed over to inspect it anyway.
The Commander began poking through the crates, trusting Sera and Bull to watch the room’s entrances. There were two beside the door; one was obviously controlled by the battered console. The other was half-opened. He kept his eyes on that one.
Dorian cursed softly. “Shit.”
The Commander glanced his way, surprised enough that Bull wondered what it took to get a swear out of him on a normal day.
“What?”
“These logs are gibberish,” Dorian said, “completely corrupted. But all the files have Alexius’ signature.”
“Is he here?” the Commander demanded.
“Possibly.”
“Great.” The Commander looked Bull’s way. “Alexius is one of the leaders of the Venatori, and if we have a hope in hell of getting any information out of him, we need to take him alive.”
“Gotcha,” Bull said, “What should I be on the lookout for?”
“Tacky facial hair,” Dorian sniffed. There was an undercurrent in his voice—something Bull wasn’t entirely sure of. Something to keep in mind, anyway. “Perhaps refrain from headshots until we have him in custody.”
“That goes for you, too, Sera.”
Sera sniffed. “Whatever. Harder to hit ‘em in the kneecaps anyway. More of a challenge, right?”
Dorian finished with the console and the closed door slid open with a begrudging groan. They all braced for another wave of Venatori, and Sera at least seemed disappointed when none emerged. Cadash took point again, leading them into a dimly-lit hallway and down a steep incline—into the heart of the mountain. Bull bent his knees a bit to stop his horns from scraping against the ceiling.
“Looks uncomfortable,” Dorian murmured.
“My left ACL is two-thirds biofibre,” Bull said. “Takes a lot to bother it, these days.”
Beyond the next blast door was another knot of Venatori. Dorian dropped a singularity on them, allowing Bull and Sera to take them out at their leisure. True to her word, Sera kept it mostly to their kneecaps. Both their kneecaps. Bull had to admire the efficiency.
They checked for this Alexius guy and then left them whining on the floor—disarmed, and with threats of being literally so if they tried anything.
“Alexius…?” Bull said as they continued through the labyrinthine corridors.
“Gerion Alexius. A brilliant scientist and biotic,” Dorian said.
“If by ‘brilliant’ you mean ‘evil’ and you add the modifier ‘mad’ to the scientist bit,” the Commander muttered.
Dorian’s mouth snapped shut, and he didn’t seem inclined to continue.
The Commander shrugged and took up the rest. “Alexius is one of the leaders of the Venatori. I met him on Omega a few months ago, when he was there trying to recruit every biotic he could find. He tried to kill me, Dorian intervened, and we’ve been tracking him down ever since.” She glanced at Dorian and her gaze softened a bit. “Am I missing anything?”
Dorian took the peace offering for what it was. “We’ve been getting Venatori intel from his son, Felix. We’re not entirely sure what his end game is, but none of the people he hired on Omega have reappeared. It’s concerning.”
They reached another blast door and Dorian took point as he investigated the control console.
“Ben-Hassrath Command has been tracing Venatori activities, too,” Bull said. “More than a few biotics have disappeared. Not only humans, either. We’ve got about a thousand files on disappearances that we’ve traced back to them.”
“This puzzle is really starting to look like someone giving us the finger,” the Commander said. “Can you get me those files?”
“Sure thing, Boss,” Bull nodded.
“This blasted thing has an eight layer encryption!” Dorian snapped suddenly. “What could they possibly need to hide that deep?”
Before Bull could speculate, the door finally slid open, Dorian grinning at it with more teeth than happiness. The room beyond was dark, though lights flickered on as Cadash took a step inside. As they drew nearer to the stations, the lights lit one by one overhead. It was some sort of lab, built directly into what looked like a natural cave. Huge enough to house a few different workbenches, each one sitting directly in front of huge pieces of black metal.
“What the shite,” Sera gasped.
“That’s…” Dorian began.
“Reaper tech,” the Commander said, craning her neck to look up at the enormous remnant in front of them. “The Venatori are experimenting with Reaper tech.”