Thessia: The Benefits of Community Service.

The brig aboard the Picasso was typical of its kind: Several holding cells, each behind heavily reinforced doors. Several were occupied, the captured pirates of various species who'd intended to loot whatever they could of Thessia's natural wealth. All were kept under guard until their individual judgement was decided. For most, they would be either tried by the laws of the Republics, or deported to the government of their species, with the end result hardly different.

Today, one of these prisoners would discover his fate.

A pair of Alliance marines made their way to his cell. One kept his weapon out in the event of trouble, while the second opened the cell door.

"Get up Snow. You're wanted in Interrogation."

The marine ordered, brusquely. Interacting with scum like Julian Snow was to be kept minimal as possible.
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Meanwhile, in Interrogation, two men sat across from each other, waiting for Snow's arrival. One, his appointed legal counsel, and a scarred man with a temporary cane leaning beside him on the table.

Both men had already spoken with each other, and now it was just a matter of waiting for Julian's arrival.

"One two three, ninety...", breathing easier as the prisoner rose from his front leaning rest position. The guard glaring down at him as he sat back down on his cot, the prisoner, known as Julian Snow to some, gave the jarhead an mirthless grin. The twinge in his right shoulder starting to fade as Snow pulled a t-shirt over his lean, scarred torso, a few of the the scars from the war, others from a previous life on Earth.
"I've been here for a month, I'm sure my interrogator can wait for a bit longer."

Fixing his eyes on the goon squad sent to bring him out, Snow gave them the thousand yard stare, a look that conjured up death, despair, and apathy, making the one on his right flinch as the salvager washed his face, taking care of his hygiene, a habit Dinthor Erkath preached. Not that the marine guard's discomfort detracted from the process, same drill, different location, Snow mumbled, but unlike the war, he wasn't a catatonic mess. For six months, Snow had done nothing but work, study, and exercise, "this time the Alliance will have to work for it...", Julian Snow muttered as he stepped forward, physically compliant, but with a defiant air belying the situation.

The two marines, eager to be rid of Snow, prodded him to the Interrogation room. Their disquiet concerning him was less about fear, and more about what Snow represented. After all, Snow had once been a brother in arms, twisted into a refelction that was uncomfortable to gaze upon. He was the owrst case scenarion, and that he proudly wore that dishonor vexed like nothing else.

Still, he wasn't going to their problem for much longer.

Julian found himself guided into Interrogation. On the other side of the door, two men waited for him. One, he recognized as his Alliance appointed legal counsel. The second was a scarred man, wearing winter gear with red cross on his shoulder, a medical crutch leaning on his side of the table. The counselor didn't glance upward, but the scarred man held his gaze, as Julian was put into his chair, beside the counselor.

The two marines divided to either side of the room, watching neutrally, ready to interven if the prisoner decided to do something stupid.

The scarred man studied Julian for a moment. They'd never spoken before, but he was the one who'd ensured Julian's current incarceration by ordering his capture.

"Do you know who I am?"

Vohkaidin Knox asked simply, his dark brown eyes assessing Julian's blue.

"That's a stupid question",

Julian Snow looked at the gimp and suit with an air of detatchment, maintaining his thousand yard stare. "A month on this shithole of a carrier and I haven't been told anything, so no, I don't know who you are."

The salvager's voice a soft rasp as he put his feet up on the table, knowing the drill. The suit and the gimp would threaten him, then make him cop to lesser charges, "not this time", thinking as he met the cripple's eyes, "Just tell me the charges, don't drag this shit out."

"We'll take as much time as we need to make sure this is done properly, Mr. Snow"

Vohk replied, still subjecting Julian to that careful gaze. After a moment, he shrugged.

"My name is Vohkaidin Knox. I was the one who led the team that captured you, and your surviving shipmates from the crash site."

He explained, before pulling out a file, glancing over it, before returning his attention to Julian. "Right around this time, I was rather occupied, but according to the accounts of the Sergeant Gallick and the others, you never attacked, just kept trying to evade us, unlike one of your fellows, who fired without provocation. Also, despite injuring yourself, you kept going into the frozen waste."

"Would you mind explaining to me what exactly was going through your head?"

"Yeah, you got me pretty boy. I was planning to shove a crate of eezo down my pants and walk off Thessia...fucking douchebag."

Snorting disdainfully, Julian met the gimp's gaze, despite the scars he just seemed too pretty to scare the salvager. But the mention of others piqued Snow's interest. Was another crew running interference for Elgin, it worked before on Benning. But eezo running? That was a good way to end up dead. Between the gov't, Big Three, and business interests getting pissed it just wasn't worth it. Either way this last job in 'civilized' space was a class one cock-up.

"I'm just a salvager, running eezo isn't worth the hassle, and unlike the so-called others, I know carrying a gun to a crashsite doesn't add inches to your dick, it adds twenty years to a sentence. So all you have on me is trespassing and evading capture, that's a hockey season at most pretty boy."

Glancing down at his next to useless defense counsel, Snow thought about the implications of what Pretty Boy just told him, but why didn't these...Templars I.D. themselves before pulling out the hardware.

"And one of your boys didn't I.D himself when he drew down, thought you were mercs looking for the merchandise."

Vohk frowned, but said nothing for a moment, perusing another portion of the file. As he did so, the suit, Snow's legal representation, told his client to quit embellishing with insults, and just stick with his account.

"None of the survivors had clarified whether or not you were part of the crew, but given that you were the only non quarian present. So you maintain that you were only present for the salvage? If so, you arrived there awfully fast. My team had arrived within minutes after the crash, but this one salvager, you, not only beat us there, but was seen fleeing from the bowels of the wreckage."

Vohk's analytical stare returned.

"Did you know that a ship was going to crash ahead of time, and was already on site when you did? Or are you telling me you just happened to be on that exact snowy plain as a complete coincidence.

Hearing the suit's 'advice', Snow glared at him, his dark grey eyes showing an emotion for the first time, barely restrained hate. The salvager held the stare for about a minute, until the lawyer finally looked away in discomfort. Turning back to Knox, despite his disdain for the man, Snow found himself agreeing with the improbability of his being there as mere concidence,

"All I know, is that the wreck was too ripe. Add that with the eezo, it had all the makings of a trap...or a distraction. But what the diversion was, I don't know, I was sent to evaluate the wreck, and get out."

Taking a breath, Snow slouched in his chair, his languid posture an affront to his interrogator and counsel, inwardly his heartrate was climbing as he chose his words with a bit more care,

"If you're asking if I was in with the quarians, no, I wasn't. That good enough for you Pretty Boy?

"As for the how, I used the wreckage trail, same way I exited. I was under your nose the entire time."

Snow began to breathe a bit easier, describing how he gained entry and evaded detection until the N7 spotted him him, cursing himself for letting the suit get to him, his 'counsel' claimed to be helping but the salvager knew better, soon as they were done with him, the suit would do the Alliance's bidding.

"Just like 2nd LT Atramonov on Benning", the salvager thought as he finished describing how he gained access.

Vohk paused in the middle of reading a file, before smiling thinly at Julian.

"While it's nice to know you think I'm attractive Mr. Snow, I'm already taken."

He took a moment to flash his wedding band. "But if you insist on flirting, I can't stop you." Vohk waggled his eyebrows, before going back to perusing the file, a thoughtful frown on his face. After a moment, he put it down.

"Here's the deal Mr. Snow. Due to the fact that the evidence supports your story, along with other eye witness accounts, you won't be charged with smuggling eezo off planet. However, you are being charged with illegal salvaging, and possible interference during a rescue operation. All your fancy running got you was a busted arm, freezing your ass in the snow, and a month in confinement."

Vohk raised his eyebrows in a way to suggest the lack of intelligence in such actions, before continuing on.

"Which leads us to what happens now. Since this took place on thessian soil, you'll be charged under the law of the asari republics. Mr. Garrow here will represent you in tribunal, and he might even be able to have you acquitted, get off scott free. Or, you'll spend a maximum of six months incarcerated, or transfered to Alliance facilities, and endure pretty much the same deal. Or..."

Vohk took another file, and pushed it to Julian's half of the table.

"You consider this deal. Essentially, just four weeks spent incarcerated, which can be deducted from your time in the brig here, and 4 months of community service on the Citadel, which you will not be permitted to leave for the duration of your sentence, barring extraordinary circumstances. This sentence may be reduced with evidence of good behavior..."

Vohk gave Julian a look, as if expecting the complete opposite.

" but we'll see how that turns out. Frankly, judging from your history and attitude, you'll be happy to screw this over for the sake of continuing to be a martyr. But maybe you'll surprise me. I hope you do, considering its my group you'll be working with initially, perhaps for the duration if I decide to endorse you."

Vohk reached for his crutch, and lifted himself up from the chair. He gave Julian one final look.

"Talk it over with Mr. Garrow. But if I were you, spending a few months doing some good as opposed up to half a year imprisoned, well. I've had worse dealings either way. But not many of us get a choice in the matter."

Then he left, not bothering to look back.

"So the pretty boy has a fucking spine, he obviously didn't get it from the Alliance," the salvager answered back, making the suit groan in exasperation and making the two marines bristle momentarily. Snow looked down at the waste of paper that detailed the terms, four months of community service on the fucking Citadel, no outside work in the meantime. That was the bad, the good was time served and not having to snitch on Elgin and the others.

Snow started to think about the options he had available;

Option one, remain in the custody of SATAE, looking for a chance to escape and rejoin Elgin, most likely would turn into suicide by Alliance.

Option two, take his chances with the Asari legal system, but given what happened on Nartin, and the blueback smilers getting curbstomped in the war, the salvager would probably be sentenced to at least three years, probably more if they made the piracy charge stick.

Option three, take the fucking deal, just like on Benning. A pretty shitty deal, unable to earn for a good portion of the year, and when the 'debt to society' was repaid, the Andvari would be long gone. And with no references or bonifides to get him to the Terminus, he'd have to start from zero, "just like fucking Benning."

Knox was wrong about one thing, if the Joughin incident taught Snow anything, it was that there is always a choice, might not be a good choice, but it is always there, just like the goddamn refueling station. Painful as it was for Snow to acknowledge, the gimp's proposal was the one that guaranteed an eventual release. Julian Snow closed his eyes, thinking about how it could play out, and then he chose;

"just tell me where to fucking sign, and take me to my cell."