Mass Effect Garrus Vakarian Novels & Stories

a gruff voice snapped from the back of the van. Garrett shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. Three heavy-set, heavily scarred mercenaries were crammed into the back cargo space, surrounded by duffel bags filled with silver-laced weaponry and tactical restraints. The man who had spoken, a massive rogue wolf named Vance, leaned forward, his face twisted in frustrated anger.

Mar looked at her two companions who stood in attention while the cadet went inside the barn. “You seem pretty used to this?” she asked Dorin, but the officer arrived before the other could answer. "Your rifle, sir." 2nd Lieutenant Monroe handed a long silver rifle to the drill Sergeant. There were intricate runes carved on the black wooden barrel, trailing to the tip of its metal muzzle. "First lieutenant Gunnar, have you any experience in using elemental firearms?" he asked Mar. "No sir," replied the lieutenant, "I am a Sword Master, Rapier Class, from the non-magic corps."

"My system completely powered down, didn't it?" A faint smile touches his lips as he shrugs his massive shoulders. "Minor vocal vibrations detected. Minimal moisture loss," he quips, the dry delivery forcing a light laugh from my chest. I narrow my eyes at his tactical mask, searching my memory banks for his file. "Your designation is... Marco, correct?" I hazard, and am rewarded with the guard’s stance relaxing as a wide grin breaks his features. "The data is accurate, Miss Blake," he says, offering a respectful nod as the transport vehicle grinds to a halt before the primary glass entrance.

She just moved. The inside of Arkenmoor was a tomb. Cold. Silent. Stale with a mechanical rot. And then they heard it—voices. Distant. Clipped. American. Cassel flattened against the wall, motioning for silence. He pulled out a mirror, tilted it around the corner, and frowned. “They’re not Lucien’s men,” he whispered. “Then who—?” “They’re mercenaries. Private. Clean gear. New models.” His face darkened. “They’re harvesting this place. Scavenging tech. Which means Lucien’s done with it.”

Rerillion: Escape this world, Trevor, live for the both of us. Rerillion shakes his arm as he notices a woman approaching them. He' draws his pistol and aims it at the woman. Trevor turns his head as he accelerates faster to the sky. He sees the woman's description. She is wearing a dark grey military uniform heavily decorated with ribbons and honors. Voluptuous chest, slender arms and legs, perfectly proportionate body. This was all he saw before he disappeared. Rerillion: Commodore Romanov... Commodore Romanov: Vice Admiral... I mean, ex-vice admiral Gapes. You may have saved your World 75 version, but he will not survive for long.

He tried, but Goradin could not find many lights indicating viewports. After a little while he arrived at the docking bay, and walked the length of it till he reached the airlock. He was greeted there by a soldier in strange uniform. Unlike the Imperial soldiers he wore not a green uniform, but a gray one. He had a strange kind of weapon slung around his shoulder. "Lieutenant Daemus Goradin, reporting for duty. This is the Battlestar Invictus, am I correct?" "Indeed you are sir" the soldier replied while checking his papers. "Goradin eh? We were expecting you. If you'll follow me, the commander will want to see you."

“Been better. How’s the whole ‘getting stabbed’ thing going?” I winced. “Not my favorite experience.” A deep voice cut in. “You should be grateful it wasn’t worse.” I turned to see a man I didn’t recognize. Tall, broad, with sharp, cold eyes that made my skin crawl. His presence screamed authority. Mara frowned. “Who’s that?” Kael straightened. “That,” he said smoothly, “is the man in charge.” The man stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stone. “I’m called Varian.”

The air pressure made their ears pop. -1000m... -1500m... The screen changed. The faces became more human. More recognizable. SUBJECT: 104-PRIME. STATUS: DEPLOYED. ALIAS: "COMMANDER ROTH". CURRENT STATUS: ACTIVE. Jack looked up. "Roth? The head of the Fenris security detail? He's a test tube baby?" "They all are," Valerius said, his voice flat. He was trembling, hugging himself as if he were freezing, though the elevator was warm. "Everyone in the inner circle. The Generals. The Scientists. The Assassins. None of them were born. They were grown."

“Mara. Elias. Status.” The hologram snapped to life above the table. Mara’s face was pale but focused, her hands flying across consoles in the rear command bunker. Elias stood at her back, one hand resting on a plasma pistol he clearly didn’t know how to use but was prepared to fire anyway. His expression was the strangest mix Lirian had ever seen, pure terror layered over ice-cold functionality, like a man who had spent his entire career unconsciously training for exactly this moment.

My voice was a ruined vibration, every word a laceration. "Vanguard is through! Gates are breached!" Ryan’s voice barked through the comms. He emerged from the frost-smoke, his tactical gear matted with blood that wasn't his. He looked at Kael, then at me—his gaze lingering on the chain for a fraction of a breath before he clamped his mask back on.