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They were a sweet old human couple, still trim and straight-backed despite their age. His face was scarred, possibly from combat; he had the bearing of a soldier. Her salt-and-pepper hair had been wound in an intricate, if slightly outdated, style high on her head; she wore just enough makeup to be proper for a function like this. His dark suit was a decade or so out of fashion, but it had been well-tailored and fitted him superbly. Her navy gown was cut in timeless lines, accessorised only by a simple chain around her neck and a ring on her finger that matched the one on his.
As they swept toward him, Emet had the distinct sensation that he was being approached by royalty. They paused before him, and the woman's blue eyes flickered over him, assessing; she blinked, and turned her head toward her partner.
"Right," said the man, with a half-smile. "Sorry, love." He released her hand to reach into his jacket and withdrew a single envelope, which he handed to Emet without fanfare. Emet opened the envelope and scanned its contents, and found himself disappointed that he did not know the name. No one special, then. Ah, well; important enough to have been invited to this event, at least.
He looked up and smiled at them both. "Mr and Mrs Bond," he said pleasantly. "Thank you for coming. Supper will begin in an hour, once all the guests have arrived. In the meantime, please feel free to mingle, or to have complementary drinks at the bar. Do you need any assistance in finding your places?"
"I'm sure we'll be fine," said Mrs Bond. She scrutinised him another moment. "Your name?" she said.
His horns tingled in surprise and slight embarrassment. "It's—Emet," he said. "Solus Emet."
She was quiet for almost a full minute and Emet was suddenly afraid he'd made some terrible mistake—human customs were so odd, sometimes, and perhaps he'd offended her, forgotten some small gesture that needed to be made—by the Egg, he wished suddenly he'd paid more attention—the Dalatrass was going to throttle him—
"Your full name," she said, suddenly.
Emet stared at her, startled. "My—" He hesitated. "Of course." He straightened his shoulders and recited it to her, proudly, and waited for her response.
"A good family," she said then, suddenly. "I've had occasion to work with one of your relatives." She smiled, faintly. "A long time ago, long before your parents were negotiating their breeding contract." The smile vanished. "Thank you, Emet," she said then. "If we have need of anything, we will be sure to ask." Before Emet could respond she turned her attention to her partner, who held out his arm; she slid her hand into the crook of it and together they drifted into the room full of chattering, well-dressed, important people.
Tension melted out of his spine and Emet exhaled. What had that been? The Solus clan was not particularly remarkable, even within salarian society; one noted scientist and a few prominent diplomats in the line—all very solid citizens and excellent representatives of the clan, but—
More guests arrived and distracted him from his thoughts, and Emet briefly forgot the Bonds.
Once all the guests had arrived and the doors were locked, the meal was served and Emet took up his next role: watching. Though none of the guests seemed to be doing anything other than enjoying the food, he could not allow himself to relax. Events like this were very attractive to those with less than altruistic intentions, and he and his partner knew that one such person was already here.
He caught sight of the Bonds at their table, and paused to watch them a moment. Mr Bond was attentive, carefully poured wine for his partner, ensured she had all she wanted on her plate. They smiled and talked softly to one another, their heads close, affectionate. It made him smile; he knew that such attachments formed between humans, but he had never really had a chance to observe it. He wondered, briefly, how long they had been paired.
His communicator dinged softly and he put a hand to the side of his head. "Solus here."
"Who are you staring at?" It was Rhien, and her voice was tinged with amusement. Emet turned his head to scan for blue skin; he spotted her standing alertly across the room, unobtrusive in a shadow near the wall, her bright blue eyes scanning the guests as they ate and drank and laughed.
Emet shook his head, amused. "Who are you staring at," he countered, "that you are so concerned with me?"
A soft snort was his only response. Rhien turned her head slightly to glance at Swain, a human on their security detail, as he walked past her. Swain ignored Rhien, stopped near one of the other human agents, and spoke softly with him. The other agent nodded, pushed away from his position near the wall, and Swain took his place.
"You saw that?" Emet asked.
"Saw it," Rhien agreed. Her demeanour did not change.
"Right." Emet returned to scanning the guests. It was perfectly normal for a security guard to swap out a little early with another, during a particularly slow detail. He had to learn to keep himself calm. He practised his breathing.
Once dessert was finished and the tables cleared, drinks poured, Emet took his final position near the dais at the front of the room. It placed him at a perfect angle to watch the Bonds again. They appeared to be discussing their cordials as Mrs Bond held hers up to the light and pointed, perhaps at something reflected in the glass. They laughed and ducked their heads together again before they sipped at their drinks, and turned their attention to the dais as the Ambassador was brought forth.
Emet stood a little straighter, narrowed his eyes as he took in all the little movements around the room. He had to trust that behind him, security agents would take care of any threat to the Ambassador that came from that direction. He and Rhien were in charge of the floor.
The Ambassador began to speak, her voice low and melodic, hypnotic. This whole affair was in her honour, but she took the time to thank all the people around her for their efforts and assistance, claimed she could not have gotten where she was without them.
She could have, of course. But what made her such a beloved icon was her recognition of the small things that others had done to clear her path, to enable her to use her talents to broker peace between nations, between species, between galaxies. It made her loved, it made her trusted. It made her powerful, and it made her a target.
Emet and Rhien had discovered ahead of time that an attempt would be made on the Ambassador's life this evening. Without revealing all they'd found out, they had spoken to their superiors to request backup and full access to the venue, to ensure that if anything went wrong, the Ambassador would be protected. They had set up a complex system of cameras with backups, had hand-picked their team for loyalty as well as ability, and had worked out a nearly fool-proof plan to stop the attack and bring the assassin to justice.
The Ambassador continued to speak, soothing and sweet, and for the most part the guests sat mesmerised. From the corner of his eye Emet saw movement and turned his head. The Bonds had risen to their feet, their expressions suddenly icy. Emet opened his mouth. That wasn't what he'd expected—it wasn't supposed to be that side of the room—
They held weapons in their hands. How had they gotten past the security checks with guns?
This wasn't what they had planned for.
Emet slammed his omnitool to set off a security klaxon. The Ambassador gasped; the guests erupted in frightened shrieks and shouts. Chairs tipped as guests scrambled away from the tables, which were overturned in the rush toward the door—which had been locked before the event. Panicked shouts and wailing sounded near the back of the room. A krogan began slamming herself against the door, to no avail.
Emet leaped forward to intercept the Bonds, but before he could take more than a couple of steps the elderly humans had slipped past him. Mr Bond leaped up on the dais and Mrs Bond continued past it; Emet glimpsed the sharp glow of biotics and knew Rhien would soon have Mrs Bond under control.
Emet jumped up on the dais, his weapon ready, but Mr Bond was not approaching the Ambassador; he had stopped in front of the swiftly retreating security team, his back to them and his heavy pistol ready, but his stance—
Was he guarding the Ambassador? Ensuring no one followed?
His attention was on something elsewhere in the room, and Emet followed his gaze.
His partner. Was this all a distraction? For what? Emet kept his gun trained on Mr Bond and turned his head, expecting to see Rhien work her biotic magic.
But she was not attacking Mrs Bond; instead she had raised herself several feet above the floor and shouted something Emet could not hear above the screaming guests. Mrs Bond herself dodged two security agents and leaped on—was that Swain? Had she targeted Swain, of all people? Her gown did not seem to hamper her one bit as she tackled Swain to the floor and punched him several times with her free hand. Shouts from the other members of Emet's team announced the presence of some kind of explosive, and two of them leaned in to confiscate something from Swain's jacket.
Emet looked back to see that the Ambassador and her security detail had vanished. Beside him, unconcerned by Emet's gun trained on him, Mr Bond stood more relaxed, his pistol at his side, and intently watched the commotion across the room. Emet moved closer, tense. "Who are you," he demanded, "and why are you here?"
Mr Bond glanced at him, then away. "Take it easy, junior," he growled. "I'm not the one you're after." He returned his attention to his partner, who had successfully subdued Swain without firing a shot, and who was now standing over him, surrounded by the rest of the very confused security team. She looked up at Rhien, who still hovered over the proceedings, and lifted her chin sharply. Rhien drifted down, let the biotic glow fade from her skin, and as her feet once more touched the floor she began directing the other agents with terse commands. Swain was swiftly cuffed and hauled, unconscious and bleeding, to sit against the wall.
Emet stared. "I don't understand," he murmured, and lowered his weapon.
"I don't suppose you do," Mr Bond agreed. He dropped down from the dais and strolled casually toward the group. After a moment, Emet did the same, albeit less casually. "What's the word, then?" Mr Bond said quietly as Mrs Bond stopped in front of him. She leaned down to holster her weapon against her thigh, shook out her dress, reached up to re-pin her hair, and flashed a brief smile.
"All good," she said.
"Right." Mr Bond holstered his gun; it vanished neatly within the lines of his suit.
"What's going on?" Emet snapped.
Rhien jogged toward them, threw her arms around Mrs Bond. "Dad," she said breathlessly. "You were awesome."
"Right," said Mrs Bond, sharply, as she rested an arm around Rhien's shoulders. "Now, you tell me why you couldn't have come straight with your superiors about this? He wasn't exactly heavily-armed. Any of you could have taken him down easily. Especially you."
"But they would have hesitated," Rhien said. "He would have gotten past them, and the Ambassador would have been endangered. I knew you wouldn't hesitate."
"Nor would you," was the stern response.
Rhien sighed. "Swain and I have a history," she said. "In the force. Not romantically," she hastened to add. "We've butted heads before, and I knew it would look like just another squabble between us."
"What've you fought about?"
"He's dirty," Rhien said. "And I've reported him for some of the stuff he's done." She shrugged.
"And it's gone nowhere?"
"His father is a high muckety-muck in the capital," Rhien explained.
"Muckety-muck?" Emet echoed.
"He's got power," Mr Bond advised him quietly. Emet made a mental note of the word, so he could look it up later.
Rhien went on. "We've known he's been dirty for years but his father's been covering it up. We found out last week he took a bribe to take out the Ambassador. We needed someone neutral and reputable to handle the situation." She looked apologetically at Emet. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you everything, Em," she went on. "But you're not a good liar, and you wear your heart on your sleeve."
"I do not," he grumbled. "And I don't like being lied to. You arranged all this?" He swept his arms in a circle. "After we agreed we'd get Swain together?"
"We did get him together," Rhien told him. "I just—I didn't want you to—" She sighed, and turned to face him, though she kept an arm around her father's waist. "I wanted you to have an out. If anything went wrong, if he was able to make it look like we were wrong about him, or we just couldn't make it stick, you wouldn't have to suffer any of the fallout. I didn't want you to lose your job if I made a mistake. I've got a safety net. You don't."
"That's not how it works, Rhien," Emet told her sternly. "When we do a job together, we're in it together, win or lose."
The Bonds looked at one another with amusement, and then Mrs Bond looked back at Rhien. "You are so exactly like your mother, you know that?"
Rhien flushed again. "I was thinking of that—her plan, from before—when I set this up."
Mrs Bond gave her a slight squeeze. "I'm surprised you even remember that. Well, you can handle the rest of this. We need to go before anyone starts asking questions."
Rhien looked sad a moment. "You're not staying?"
"You know we can't."
Rhien sighed, nodded. "Can I come visit you when this is all over? I'd—" She flushed a little, her cheeks turning a very appealing shade of lavender. "I'd like to hear what you—how you think we might have done it better."
Mrs Bond watched Rhien almost a full minute in silence before she nodded once. "That would be fine," she said. "Bring your boyfriend." She indicated Emet with a motion of her head.
Rhien blushed harder. "Dad!" she exclaimed. "He's not my boyfriend. We're partners."
"Sure," Mrs Bond snorted rudely. "Let us know in advance when you're coming so we don't shoot you down again."
"Of course." Rhien stood on her toes and kissed her father's cheek. "Thanks again, Dad."
"Anytime, kiddo." Mrs Bond withdrew her arm and moved to join her partner. The two of them linked arms and made their way to the door. The still-terrified guests, huddled around the walls, watched them, frozen in silence. Mrs Bond released her partner's arm, brought up an omnitool, and made short work of the locks on the door—and then the two of them were gone.
Emet turned to Rhien. "That was your father," he said.
"Yeah." She looked uncomfortable.
"Her name isn't Bond, is it?"
"No. It's—it's Shepard."
He nodded, slowly. "And that man with her?"
"He's her—partner. His name is Zaeed. They've been working together since before I was born." She flushed again. "They're long retired, now, but they agreed to do this as a favour to me."
Emet inhaled, sighed. The job had been taken care of; the Ambassador was safe, and Swain—well, they would have to see. There would be time to talk things out. "It's not over, yet," he reminded her. "There's gonna be a planet's worth of paperwork to fill out. And even if we get him charged—"
"We shouldn't have a problem with that," Rhien reminded him. "He never found any of the cameras, and the footage should still all be intact. And if any of the guests kept their wits about them—"
"Which I doubt," Emet said drily.
"—well, there are witnesses, anyway, neutral witnesses. And the team saw everything."
"Even so, it'll be a fight to ensure he gets indicted. We have to be careful that every step we took was on the up-and-up."
"You know it was, Em," Rhien said earnestly.
"Even getting your father here to run interference?" He cocked his head to one side.
"There's nothing on the books that says we can't hire mercenary assistance." She lowered her head a little, stubbornly.
Emet sighed again. "You're not hurt, are you?" he asked, softer.
Rhien shook her head. "Not at all. My father took all the hits, from Swain and from the team." She chuckled. "I think she liked getting into a brawl again. Retirement doesn't suit her so well. '
Emet grinned. "Maybe I'll take her up on that invite to visit, next time you go."
"Would you—want to?" Rhien lifted her head again, but her expression was schooled.
"Of course I would," he scoffed. "I would love to meet your father the war hero. Hopefully under less stressful circumstances."
She laughed. "I can't promise the visit would be stressless," she said. "Did I ever mention the time I was six and ran away to try and find her, and got kidnapped by mercs hoping to make a name for themselves?"
"Uh, no. No, you did not."
"Let's get this mess cleaned up," Rhien said. "When we get back to the precinct, I'll tell you all about it over paperwork." She flashed him a grin, and as she turned away to help the rest of the team escort frightened guests out of the room, Emet's chest tightened a little.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this, not for salarians. He knew this in his head. But the rest of him…didn't listen so well to what was supposed to happen.
"Hey, Solus," called out one of the other agents. "Stop mooning and get over here, give us a hand."
Emet shook his head, turned and jogged in that direction.