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[fainmaca]

Chapter 22: The Files, Part Two

A mug of hot, rich coffee steamed on the table in front of the Commander, freshly made from a special blend only available on the Citadel. Several datapads were scattered around on the squat coffee table, each one dedicated to a different data packet. Leaning back comfortably on his couch, the Commander picked up the first of the pads, idly changing the music coming in over the cabin's sound system. He narrowed his eyes and began to read.

The first file Liara had sent bore the title: OMEGA. Shepard opened it after a moment's thought, and a large list of names popped up on the screen. They were preceded by a short message.

The Terminus systems are home to one of the highest concentrations of armed and armoured vessels in settled space. Only the Quarians and the Geth could muster a force that would equal the firepower at the disposal of the Terminus Cartels. Needless to say, such a sheer volume of battle-ready starships would be an immense aid to you in your continued efforts against the Reapers.

I have consulted with Aria T'loak and, between us, we have managed, through the use of our many mutual contacts, to organise a gathering of the leading figures in the Terminus Systems, from Merc bosses to pirate captains and everything in between. While not every organisation in the Terminus will be represented, we are confident that they will follow the example of their betters. I have attached a few biographies for you to familiarise yourself with the various individuals you shall meet.

We need these ships, Shepard, so these negotiations cannot fail. At the same time, you must watch your back. These select few represent the worst that Omega has to offer, the most dangerous beings in all of the Terminus Systems, and you will have crossed paths with many of them before. Be careful.

Shepard scanned the various dossiers Liara had provided, making note of names and faces. He nodded his head upon recognising a great many names, most of who he had fought against at some point or another. He recognised the name Vido Santiago, leader of the Blue Suns merc group, along with a name that surprised him. Representing a loose assortment of Batarian street gangs and slavers, Balak's name was quite high on the list of representatives. The Batarian had tried three years ago to destroy a Human colony through the use of a colossal asteroid, and would have succeeded had it not been for Shepard's intervention. The Commander felt a twinge of dread upon realising that he would have to negotiate with such a ruthless terrorist, and did not hold high hopes of convincing him to help fight the reapers so soon after they had taken Earth. Shrugging, he moved on to the next datapad, containing a file entitled: BEKENSTEIN.

I have done my best to locate your remaining missing crewmembers, Commander, and have pursued a strong lead. While I realise this does not have any tactical value to your activities against the Reapers, I understand that finding your missing crew would bring you a peace of mind that will be valuable in the days to come.

By hacking into Cerberus' secure databases, I was able to trace a number of transactions made to Cerberus' from a Victor Lawson, who I have been able to confirm is the father of your squad member, Miranda. He owns a number of businesses throughout Citadel and Alliance space, along with some almost palatial homes.

I did some additional digging, and was able to confirm that he made a rather large transaction only days after your capture, and received a delivery from a known Cerberus front. Given his relationship with Cerberus, I was able to learn that this 'delivery' was extremely heavily guarded, and made use of devices whose only purpose is to keep biotics contained. This 'delivery' was the transfer of Miranda's custody from Cerberus to her father. I have provided the location and blue-prints of the estate she was delivered to. Given the fact that Mr Lawson has not left this residence for the past few months, it is safe to assume that both he and Miranda are still there.

Shepard opened the attached files, briefly looking at the plans for a palatial house, along with a short psyche profile on Victor Lawson. He pondered the data for a moment before setting the datapad aside, picking up a third one which bore the title: ANDAIRAS

The Quarian Flotilla is on the move at the moment, clearly unnerved by recent events. Ascertaining their destination will take more time than I feel we can spare at the moment. However, the might of their fleet cannot be discounted. It is for this reason, then, that I have devoted my resources to locating a more static portion of the Flotilla.

My search brought me to Andairas, a small planet out beyond the frontier. My sources tell me that the Quarians have been considering forming a planetside colony there, though whether this is intended to replace their lost home or merely to serve as a shelter for non-combatants during a war with the Geth, I cannot say.

However, my investigation has brought to light that the work on the colony is currently being supervised by two of the Flotilla's Admirals. Admiral Daro'Xen and newly appointed Admiral Tali'Zorah are present to oversee the implementation of new technologies on the planet's surface. It would make sense to speak with Tali in order to try to re-establish contact with the Flotilla. It would also be wise to ascertain what the intentions of the Quarians are. We cannot afford for them to ignite a conflict with the Geth with bigger enemies on the horizon.

The Commander scanned the additional information, a series of schematics for various Quarian innovations being used by the colony along with some general information about the planet. He thoughtfully replaced the datapad on the table and picked up the fourth one, which was entitled: MEROXIS.

The garden world of Meroxis was discovered by the Turian Hierarchy about six years ago. However, very recently the Turians began speaking about a new discovery below the surface, which they compared to the discovery of Ilos. Numerous Prothean experts have shown an interest in the planet, but the Hierarchy has insisted that their own people deal with whatever is found there.

The colony went silent a few days ago. Hierarchy forces are growing nervous, but bureaucracy is getting in the way of an official investigation.

I am concerned about what the Turians may have found down there, and think it warrants investigation. If they have found some powerful new technology, then we should try to integrate it into our ships as soon as possible. If, on the other hand, they have stumbled upon a cache of Reaper artefacts, then we could be facing a serious problem. Go to Meroxis, and find out what they found.

Shepard carefully put that one aside, not wanting to think about what might have happened to the Turians, and picked up another datapad, which read: ILLIUM.

A medical research facility on Illium has been making considerable advances in its understanding of the Drell disease known as Kepral's Syndrome. They are pioneering a revolutionary new treatment that allows the Drell's immune system combat the ailment. Given time, they believe that this treatment will eventually eliminate the disease completely.

The Drell, though small in numbers, have proven to be immensely useful, both to the Hanar and as free agents. Their perfect recall makes them invaluable as information gatherers and researchers. Not to mention their prowess in combat. If this cure is viable, it could bring the Drell species out of their downward slump.

However, not all is as it seems on Illium. On investigating the facility, I have learned that it is a Cerberus front. I do not know why the Illusive Man would invest so much of his organisation's resources into curing an alien disease, but it cannot be good. You should go to Illium, and find out what Cerberus really wants with this cure.

Shepard turned to the final datapad, which bore the title: THE CITADEL.

A Salarian company known as Inutech Industries is the front company for an operation that has been dealing in stolen Prothean artefacts for some time now. However, recently their transactions have moved from small amounts in exchange for trinkets to astronomical amounts in exchange for extremely large shipments. Curious, I investigated what they were selling, and was amazed to find that they had discovered a cache of artefacts dating back to before the Protheans. The items they retrieved seemed to suggest new methods for the construction of engines, motion dampeners and a number of other vital components for starships. This information would be invaluable to the Council and the Alliance, presenting new possibilities for the construction of our ships and giving us a further edge against the Reapers.

However, Inutech's activities of late have suffered from severe disruptions. It would appear that a large number of shipments have been stolen, vanishing from under their noses. Days later, the stolen artefacts turn up at legitimate Council research facilities.

I have tried to ascertain the identity of this thief, and my research has turned up one factor all of the robberies had in common- when the devices were delivered to the Council's scientists, they were always accompanied by a red rose. I know this to have once been the calling card of an associate of yours, the thief Kasumi Goto. I can only assume that she has discovered the nature of these artefacts on her own and, in an attempt to get your attention, left clues for you to follow to find her. She may have information on where these devices are coming from, or what they do.

In an attempt to predict where she will strike next, I hacked into Inutech's system and, although I was unable to get much, I was still able to learn that they intend to move a very large cargo in the not-to-distant future. I also gleaned the information that they intend to set a trap for Kasumi, hoping the lure of the big prize will draw her out. You need to get there and get to both her and that cargo before they catch her.

Shepard set down the final datapad, leaning back while he rubbed at his eyes. He pondered the various datapads for a while before reaching a decision and, downing his coffee, heading for the elevator. He strode out into the CIC purposefully and climbed the stairs to the Galaxy Map. The crew looked up expectantly as he used his omnitool to manipulate the Map, homing in on his destination.

"Joker, set a course for Sahrabarik. We're going to Omega." He said simply.

Up in the cockpit, Joker nodded as he punched in the co-ordinates. The Normandy peeled away from Arcturus, fully repaired and supplied, and leapt into faster-than-light drive, arrowing for the nearest Mass Relay that would take them to their new destination. The crew felt a little more confident now as the ship raced through space. Finally, they were on the move again.

 Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm going to put a new poll on my profile page. While I write about the Omega Cartels, please vote on which mission you'd like to see Shepard do next out of the remaining five. Fainmaca out. Link: http://www.fanfictio...673351/Fainmaca

[fainmaca]

Chapter 23: The Cartels Gather
 
The Normandy winged through the Sahrabarik system, dodging through the vast asteroid field surrounding the lawless fortress of Omega. The frigate raced deftly between a pair of massive boulders, close to the size of small moons, and darted towards the glowing red station.
 
“SSV Normandy, this is Omega traffic control,” A bored-sounding Turian spoke over the comms. “Permission to dock has been granted. Docking bay twenty-eight has been cleared for you.”
 
“Docking bay twenty-eight, confirmed.” Joker responded. “Much appreciated.”
 
“Just try not to pull off any more of those stunts you did last time.” The Turian replied coldly. “We get enough trouble here without a frigate ploughing through our main residential districts.”
 
“Well, good to know we’re still so well-liked in the crappiest corner of the Galaxy.” Joker grumbled over his shoulder to the Commander. “I wonder what sort of welcoming committee we should expect.”
 
Shepard stood a few feet back from the helmsman’s chair, one elbow cupped in his right hand as his left hand tugged at his chin thoughtfully. He held no illusions about the kind of welcome he was likely to get on the lawless station, and had prepared accordingly. His full combat armour weighed heavily down upon him, all polished and carefully repaired after his most recent engagements. On his back, a small arsenal of weaponry sat quietly. Jacob’s specially modified anti-armour missile launcher hummed ominously from its spot on his spine, flanked on either side by his sniper rifle and assault rifle. His shotgun sat snugly in the small of his back, while a pistol was holstered on his right hip, a submachine gun mirroring it on his left hip. The end result of this load-out was an intimidating figure no one in their right mind would want to cross.
 
Behind the Commander, still adjusting their various armours and weapons in anticipation of the tense mission ahead, a small army waited for the ship to dock. Grunt stood at the rear of the procession, his massive bulk looming over the rest of the squad. He was chatting to Garrus, the pair discussing the attributes of their favoured weapons. Zaeed stood patiently with his arms folded, blood-red armour glinting in the artificial light of the Command Deck. Etarn fingered the handle of his gun anxiously, while next to him the Revenant stood quietly. The Collector’s burns had nearly healed over, leaving his carapace covered in dark smudges where the scorching of Harbinger’s possession had left a more permanent mark.
 
Shepard surveyed his team, satisfied with the intimidating show of force. Only someone who had completely taken leave of their senses would want to tackle this group.
 
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that.” Shepard answered the pilot’s question as the Normandy completed her docking procedures. “Keep the engines running hot, though. We are about to go have a chat with just about every person in the Terminus who we’ve given a reason to hate us.”
 
“Fun. So what do we have planned for our next shore leave? Maybe going hand-to-hand with a Shatha, or how about a quick joyride through the Galactic Core? Sure would make a change from the monotony of our constant near-death experiences.”
 
“Need more excitement. Gotcha.” Shepard pretended to note it down on an invisible datapad. “When I get back, I’ll sign you up for the Tuchanka wrestling championship. I’m sure I can convince Wrex to let you compete.”
 
“Yeah, and maybe I’d finally get to see what a female Krogan looks like when they cart me in to have my finely powdered skeleton put back together. Hey Grunt, what do Krogan nurses look like?”
 
“In my culture, we eat our wounded.” Grunt replied with a grin.
 
“Wh- really? You’re kidding, right?”
 
“Be sure to let me know if you break a leg, Joker. The portions they serve on this ship are never quite big enough for me.” Grunt answered, his grin so wide it almost looked as though the top of his head would fall off. Joker, a mildly terrified expression on his face, opened his mouth to question the Krogan further, but by that time the squad had already begun to file into the airlock. Shepard waited until everyone had passed through the inner airlock door before turning to the crew that would remain aboard the Normandy.
 
“Kaidan, I want the rest of the squad ready to come bail us out if things go south in here. Between Jack and Samara’s biotics, Mordin and Legion’s tech skills and your and Jacob’s combat skills, you should be able to make a decent sized dent in the back of any forces that try to take us on.”
 
“Aye-aye, Commander.” Kaidan saluted.
 
“I’ll keep in touch with Liara throughout the duration of our time here.” Feron said, monitoring the ship’s comms using his omnitool. “If she picks up anything on any merc comm channels, she’ll let us know. If they do decide to turn on us, we’ll have plenty of warning.”
 
“Thanks. Don’t wait up.” Shepard threw a farewell salute over his shoulder as he turned to enter the airlock, waiting for the hiss of equalising air pressure as the Normandy mingled its atmosphere with that of the station. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, the Commander led his squad out onto the station.
 
~o~0~o~[/b]
 [/b]
The filthy streets of Omega were infested with the typical mixture of wretched low-lifes. Street corners were home to innumerable ladies of the night, while the narrow alleyways that branched off from the main thoroughfares were filled with layer upon layer of fetid dross, amidst which roamed the destitute, picking their way through the garbage to scrape a living. Shepard’s sharp eyes caught sight of a few tiny shapes moving in the midst of this abject poverty, countless children with nothing more to their names than a few rags. The very sight of it made him sick to his stomach.
 
Out in the more central highways of the station, the crush of life was almost smothering. The Commander’s ears were deafened by the cries of a multitude of traders, all trying to sell some cheap crap in order to keep hunger from their doors. The bustling crowds were rife with pick-pockets and con artists, easily spotted by one as streetwise as Shepard.
 
“Human! Over here, human!”
 
Shepard’s attention was snagged by a wildly gesticulating Batarian. He thought he recognised the four-eyed alien, so he walked over. The Batarian was situated behind a stall, along with four of his comrades. He smiled warmly at the Commander.
 
“You may not remember me, Human, but I remember you very well. My name is Alak. You saved my life back during the outbreak of that plague in the slums, making sure I got to Doctor Solus’ clinic for treatment.”
 
One of the Batarian’s associates looked up at the Commander, and all four eyes widened in surprise.
 
“This is the Human that helped you?” He asked a little incredulously.
 
“Have we met?” Shepard asked warily.
 
“I should say! You’re the Human who burst in on us when we had that scrawny doctor’s assistant at gunpoint. Stopped us from sending the little runt to the worms and then let us go. And you’re the same one who helped Alak?” He asked amazedly. “Small Galaxy…”
 
“So what are you doing here?”
 
“After the Plague hit, there were more than a few job openings.” Alak explained. “Jeran and I were both at the Salarian’s clinic, so we got to talking and decided to go into business together. We sell all kinds of stuff, from combat armour to parts for small starships.”
 
“Done well for ourselves, too.” Jeran added. “I just got myself out of the slums and into a new apartment, just a few blocks away from Afterlife. Can’t get much more upmarket than that.”
 
“Well, I’m glad things worked out okay for you.” Shepard smiled.
 
“All thanks to you, Human.” Alak said graciously. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have died in that Plague.”
 
“And you didn’t have to let me go once that little Human was safe.” Jeran said. “It was after that I realised that Humans can be honourable.”
 
“Happy to help.” Shepard nodded, acknowledging the thanks. “So, while I’m here, why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”
 
“Happy to, Human!” Alak said helpfully. “And because it’s you, we’ll work out a nice fat discount.”
 
The two Batarians began digging though their inventory, and after a few moments Jeran stood up, holding a short, fat pistol. The muzzle was wide, clearly designed for a large calibre bullet.
 
“This is a new design, not even meant to be on the market yet.” The Batarian said conspiratorially. “Got the schematics off a friend on the Citadel. It’s called the Hornet. I heard that that’s some kind of Earth creature. Anyway, the name’s not important right now. This thing will punch through an enemy barrier like no one’s business. You thought the Carnifex had kick, wait until you try this. The only downside is that its range is limited. The rounds lose their power over greater distances.
 
“I can let you have this, along with the minifacturing schematics, for seven and a half thousand credits.”
 
“Sounds good. Deal.” Shepard reached out to shake the alien’s hand. The Batarian inspected the hand a little curiously for a second, clearly unfamiliar with the Human gesture, before reciprocating. He then handed over the pistol, along with an OSD containing the schematics.
 
The Commander and the Batarians said their farewells as the squad progressed towards the district of the station that housed Aria’s favoured lair, the nightclub known as Afterlife. As they walked, Etarn moved up next to the Commander, a small smile on his lips.
 
“So it would appear that not all of your dealings with my people have been soured by conflict.” He commented.
 
“I try to help where I can.” Shepard explained. “I’m not going to treat anyone different because they were born on a different planet to me.”
 
“If only more today shared that compassionate viewpoint.” The Batarian said a little wistfully.
 
Pretty soon Shepard’s feet could feel the thump, thump, thump of rhythmic, insistent music pulsing through the structure of the station, and moments later the massive structure pulled into view, garish neon lighting advertising the club’s seedier nature for all to see. The squad approached the doors, the club’s bouncers stepping out of their way smartly upon identifying the Commander, and the doors slid open to admit them.
 
Inside, the music rose to a fever pitch, rendering any attempts at conversation close to pointless. Red and orange lighting served only to make the shadowy interior dance, creating a dim cacophony of colours that Shepard had to squint to see through.
 
He negotiated his way past the bustling dance floor, a heaving mass of bodies churning to the beat. As he walked by, he was sure that, amidst the frantic melee, he had spotted a few tiny glimpses of some carnal act or another. He shook his head, moving away towards the back of the club, ascending the stairs to Aria’s perch.
 
The Pirate Queen of Omega sat imperiously on her throne, overlooking the club and its denizens. She cast a bored-looking glare at the Commander as he left his squad at the base of the stairs, approaching her alone.
 
“Shepard. I have to congratulate you. You’ve been on the station for a full five minutes and nothing has exploded yet. I hope you didn’t go to all that effort for my benefit?”
 
“You know me, I try to be a well-behaved house guest.”
 
“We’ll see.” Aria shot back, unimpressed. “Say what you will about your behaviour in other people’s homes, you do have friends in high places. The Shadow Broker was very persuasive in his attempts to arrange this conclave.”
 
“You don’t sound too happy.”
 
“Whenever this amount of scum collects together in one place, it tends to cause a smell. Last time this many mercs and pirates were in the same room, they were conspiring against me. I hope you’ll understand my hesitance to give them a second chance to do so.”
 
“Don’t worry. With the problems we’ve got now, they won’t have time for that.”
 
“You’d be amazed at how good these people are at seeing that their own interests are served first. Don’t be so sure that they’ll offer to help you get your planet back.”
 
“So you already know about Earth, then?”
 
“What information I wasn’t able to garner through my own sources was soon provided by the Broker when he requested this meeting. I know enough.”
 
“So when does this thing start?”
 
“If I know these pirates, and I do, then they’ll have already started. We’re still waiting on a few individuals, but those already here will likely be forging new alliances and enmities all in the same breath. Go through the door at the back of the club. It’ll take you to the elevator, which will take you to our VIP lounges, private rooms for more… delicate dealings. The mercs will be gathering in the first one. Just pray Golarr hasn’t found the ryncol yet.”
 
“Aren’t you coming?”
 
“It always pays off to be fashionably late.” Aria said smoothly. It was amazing how she could explain something without ever making it any clearer. “I’ll be in once everyone has gathered.”
 
“Thanks.” Shepard nodded, turning to go.
 
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m sure once this is over you’ll thank me to let you out of there.”
 
Shepard descended the stairs, waving for his comrades to follow him. They moved to the door Aria had indicated, stepping through it into a much quieter corridor. The sounds of the club became distant, muted by the thick walls on either side and the deep carpet underfoot.
 
They found their way to the room where the negotiations were meant to take place, and Shepard indicated that the squad should wait a second. On the other side of the doorway leading to the VIP Lounge set aside, Shepard could hear raised voices. It sounded as though a Batarian and a Turian were arguing with one another, though what it was about Shepard could not tell. His nerves jangling at the thought of the lion’s den he was about to enter, Shepard stepped through the door.
 
The VIP Lounge was extravagantly decorated, with wood panelling covering the walls and a luxurious red carpet on the floor. Pictures hung on the walls, various masterpieces from artists of different species. In his quick glance around the area immediately around the doorway, Shepard identified several incredibly valuable pieces of Human, Asari, Batarian and Hanar art. An Elcor sculpture stood in the centre of the entrance area of the Lounge, a twisted, flowing piece that tugged at the mind’s eye in painful and yet exhilarating ways.
 
Beyond the entryway, the rest of the Lounge was just as luxurious. A large bar took up one wall, a massive aquarium covering the wall behind the racks of bottles. The main section of the room was a sunken circle centred on a fireplace. Several seats and couches had been arrayed around the fire, all positioned so that their occupants could look at one another across the flames. Shepard wondered at the idea of having a fireplace on a space station, burning the already limited oxygen, and assumed that the flames had to be artificial, the very look of the fireplace, including the metal flue that extended from the ceiling, all a part of the illusion that Afterlife was so opulent it could afford to burn precious breathing air.
 
A motley collection of individuals had gathered around the fire, most sitting comfortably while two, a Batarian and a Turian, were on their feet, gesticulating wildly at one another across the fire. A massive Krogan sat on a squat couch, his huge frame almost filling it. He was speaking quietly to a Human woman and another Batarian, who seemed to be the aide of the one on his feet. A Salarian sat with his fingers steepled before him, a Drell at his side with an omnitool active, recording the discussion. More Humans, Turians and Batarians occupied the seats before Shepard, their backs turned to the Commander. At the bar Shepard saw another Krogan and two Asari helping themselves to the liquor.
 
As the squad entered, a familiar figure approached them, face beaming with a wide smile as he approached with one hand extended.
 
“Commander Shepard!” Sidonis said quietly, clearly not wanting to disturb the discussion around the fire.
 
“Sidonis!” Shepard responded, returning the warm handshake. The Turian’s three-fingered hand pumped the Commander’s vigorously. His smile faltered a fraction when he looked over Shepard’s shoulder.
 
“G-Garrus.” He nodded uncertainly, timidly. Shepard’s comrade responded with a silent nod.
 
“What are you doing here?” Shepard asked.
 
“Got my own squad now. We’ve got quite a presence in the Terminus, so we warranted an invite to this little tea-party.”
 
“Along with all the pirates and mercs we were fighting not too long ago?” Garrus asked pointedly. Even the Commander had suspicions. After his activities as a part of Garrus’ squad, the Turian seemed like the odd one out at the gathering of the worst the Galaxy had to offer.
 
“We’re not like the other organisations on Omega.” Sidonis was quick to explain. “We don’t oppress people. We’re more like a, uh… more like guns for hire when wrongs need righting. Anyone with a grievance against the mercs, pirates or gangs in the Terminus can come to us. Because our targets aren’t as high-profile as those we hit when Garrus was in charge, we haven’t drawn the attention of the merc bosses so much. I couldn’t go back to the same type of operation Garrus was running, not after what happened back then, but I meant what I said when I told you I’d make up for my mistakes, and this was the best way I could think of.”
 
“I’m sure you’re right, Sidonis.” Shepard assured, though he was well aware of the lack of response coming from the Turian at his shoulder. “So, you’ll have your finger on the pulse when it comes to who we’ve got here. Why don’t you show us around?”
 
“Glad to, Shepard.” Sidonis turned to the individuals at the bar, first pointing to the pair of Asari. “That’s Alessa and Vanyala Sederis. Their mother was Jona Sederis, the founder of Eclipse. The twins are very dangerous in battle, but just as cunning during negotiations. Some say that, because they’re twins, their biotics get stronger when they are close to one another, not that they aren’t considerable anyway.
 
“The Krogan is Golarr. He runs a fairly large band of Krogan called the Bonebreakers. As you can tell, not very subtle. They’re the second largest recruiter of Krogan, next to the Blood Pack. The only difference between the two is that Golarr preaches that Krogan should not need Vorcha mingling with their ranks. Other than that, they’re identical. Hired muscle, demolitions work, all the stuff that you’d expect of Krogan.”
 
“What’s their general disposition?” Shepard asked, trying to get a feel for where his allies were.
 
“Eclipse does recruit a fair number of Humans, so their members are pushing to help fight whoever has attacked Earth. But the organisation is primarily Asari, so generally Alessa and Vanyala will only be looking to defend against any threat to the Republics’ worlds.
 
“The Bonebreakers… I’m not so sure about. They generally sell their services to the highest bidder, or get involved when it’ll bring them the highest reward. Golarr is the kind of merc who’ll help attack someone just so they’ll pay him even more for protection from their enemies. But then again, they love to fight, and there’s sure to be a bloodbath wherever you lead us. That may be enough pull to persuade them to get involved.”
 
“I see.” Shepard nodded sagely. “So what about those two on their feet?”
 
“The Batarian’s Groklan. He heads up a crew of slavers out in the Terminus. Not very heavy hitters in Omega’s circles, but they do own a sizeable fleet, and they’ve got creds to spare, a rare thing on Omega. The Turian is actually a part of Aria’s organisation. Captain Gavorn. He oversees the general operation of the station. Nearest thing you’ll get to a police officer on this station.”
 
“They seem to be going at it pretty hard.”
 
“Yes, as you can see, the discussion’s already begun. Gavorn’s in favour of helping the Alliance. He’s a fairly upstanding sort. Not the kind to stand back and let the weak get trampled down. Groklan’s got less pity for your cause. He seems to think that the Humans deserve their fate, and is perfectly happy to stand back and let things happen.
 
“Now the ones sitting are a little more important. See the Krogan? That’s Motrak. He’s the leader of the Blood Pack. The smartest Krogan I’ve ever met. He only rose to power in the past few months, but it was all due to his own plots. He had the previous leader killed in an engagement with the Blue Suns, and then slaughtered his way past the next few in line. Krogan respect that kind of power, so they were all too happy to let him take over.”
 
“Any sign of whether he’ll help or not?”
 
“Hard to say. He’s very good at keeping his designs to himself.” Sidonis shrugged, moving on. “The female he’s talking with is Susanna Morven. She’s here to represent a small group of pirates in the Skyllian Verge. Again, not much in the way of numbers, but she’s got connections with a good few organisations, and even has her hand in the pockets of a few Alliance colony directors. So very valuable politically. I reckon ‘cause it’s her own species that’s under attack she’s guaranteed to help.”
 
Shepard’s gut twisted as the Batarian on the other side of Motrak turned, his distinctive features instantly recognisable to the Commander.
 
“That’s Balak!” He said, his voice strained with anger.
 
“Yes. He’s head of a consortium of Batarian pirates and slavers. He only came into power in the past two or three years, but he now controls a sizeable army. A very canny leader.”
 
“A worthless bastard is what he is.” Shepard spat. “I caught him in the act of sending an asteroid straight at Terra Nova. Managed to save the colony, but the slimy little **** used hostages as a shield while he made his escape.”
 
“I never realised he was behind that.” Sidonis said with surprise. “But I can believe it. He’s ruthless, and he’s earned his place among his peers by spilling the blood of many opponents. You can’t allow your past with him to colour these negotiations, Commander. You’ll need his forces.”
 
“Alright.” Shepard conceded angrily. “What about that Salarian with the Drell?”
 
“Fodra. He’s second-in-command of a merc band called the Mannovai Novas. They specialise in shipping stolen tech. I’ve heard they’ve got a strong presence on Noveria, which is where the majority of their products come from. I once overheard him mention Administrator Lorik Qui’in’s  name when discussing sources with his assistant, the Drell over there.” Sidonis pointed at the alien wielding the omnitool. “They arm almost half of the pirates in the Terminus, and can certainly pull some strings to help you.”
 
“How does Fodra feel about everything?”
 
“He’s a little easier to read than others. Fodra’s smart enough to know that whoever attacked your planet will move on to others when they get bored. One benefit of being a Salarian, I suppose. You’re able to figure things out before anyone else.
 
“The rest of those gathered are your usual mixture of scum and villainy. Pirate captains, bounty hunters, mercs and slavers The only one of note is Vido.”
 
Shepard’s ears perked up at mention of the name, and he heard a muttered expletive from over his shoulder. He shot Zaeed a cautioning glance to silence the old mercenary before turning back to Sidonis.
 
“Vido? Vido Santiago?”
 
“The same. The actual leader of the Blue Suns. A mean bastard if ever there was one. He’s been twitchy recently, though. Always seems to be looking over his shoulder, and he never stays still for long. After the Suns lost that base on Zorya in that fire, he’s been keeping mobile. If you ask me, I’d say he’s making sure something doesn’t catch up with him.”
 
“Damn ****ing right. The snivelling little ****** should be running scared.” The muttered threat carried to the Commander’s ears from behind. Unseen by Shepard, both Grunt and Garrus placed cautioning hands on the mercenary’s shoulders, warning him to be silent and contain his temper. Now was not the time.
 
“You won’t find a single person here who makes their living by keeping on the right side of the law, and nearly every last one of them has a hefty prison sentence or a death sentence hanging over their heads in some corner of the Galaxy.” Sidonis explained. “So watch your step, Shepard.”
 
The Turian looked back to the gathering of criminals, noticing that the argument had come to an end, and the discussion was becoming less heated. He gestured to the Commander.
 
“Come on, we’d best go enter the fray.”
 
The group slowly moved into the VIP Lounge, Sidonis and the Commander working their way down to the fireplace and the circle of seats. The gathered criminals looked to the Commander with a mostly disinterested gaze, although Shepard felt the hostility emanating from both Vido and Balak, his two main opponents at the gathering. The Batarian’s eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight of the Commander, while Vido looked visibly shaken by his presence, even more so when he looked past Shepard and caught sight of Zaeed, although he managed to gain control over his fear after a few moments, replacing the fearful expression with one of scorn.
 
“We meet again, Human.” Balak said. “I am amazed you had the courage to show your face here.”
 
“Balak, a pleasure as always.” Shepard managed through gritted teeth. “I bring you the greetings of the colony on Terra Nova. They’re always so glad to receive any news about you.”
 
“I’m sure they are.” The Batarian responded smoothly. “It must sting, though, to face defeat so often. I mean, first I escape from your clutches on Terra Nova, and now you’ve lost an entire Human planet. Clearly the ancestors do not favour you.”
 
Shepard’s teeth clenched at the barbed insult, and he heard more than saw the rest of his squad bristle at the words. Zaeed in particular was audibly growling..
 
“Enough of this, Balak!” The Krogan, Motrak, murmured from his side of the fire. “I did not come here to hear you bandy words with a soft-skin.”
 
“I was merely offering my condolences to our human associates here.” Balak said falsely.
 
“Regardless,” Fodra supplied. “We should focus on this new threat.”
 
“What are we here to discuss, anyway?” Groklan asked. “I don’t see how the loss of Earth affects us.”
 
“Don’t you get it, Groklan?” Gavorn asked a little incredulously. “Earth won’t be the last planet to fall. Between those of us gathered here, we represent the largest forces of trained personnel, offensive weaponry and armed ships in the Terminus. After what we’ve seen about this new enemy, its clear that every last ship, gun and soldier will be needed.”
 
“What makes you so certain that these strange aliens will strike again?” Motrak asked, his eyes glinting with an intelligent light Shepard was unused to seeing in a Krogan.
 
“It’s obvious.” Fodra answered. “You don’t occupy such a high-profile target unless you’re committing to a long-term campaign. If their intention had simply been to strike at humanity, why do they keep the Charon Relay locked and hold the Sol system?”
 
“The fact that they can manipulate a Relay like this is unsettling.” Groklan added. “A race with such power could do almost anything.”
 
“So the question is whether we help the Alliance in their war efforts or not.” Gavorn said.
 
“I say leave the Humans to their fate.” Balak said conclusively.
 
“Much as I dislike admitting it, I am inclined to agree with my esteemed colleague.” Vido said calmly. Shepard felt his loathing for the pair reach a boiling point, but Susanna beat him to it.
 
“How can you say that?! This is our home we’re talking about!” She shouted, leaping to her feet.
 
“I am merely being practical here.” Vido explained coldly. “From what we’ve seen of this new enemy, our ships are no match. We’re much wiser to simply pull back. I’m not about to throw my life away turning my ships to scrap on account of a planet that is already lost.”
 
“We should pull back to our homes, shore up and if they attack us, we defend ourselves.” Balak said, grinning as he looked at the Commander, revelling in the fact that this was a planet dear to Shepard that he was condemning to destruction.
 
“Don’t you get it?” Shepard shouted. “The Reapers are here for all of us, not just Humanity! If you don’t help us stand and fight, then they’ll cleanse your worlds of life just as quickly as their cleansing ours!”
 
“Why should we trust the word of a mass-murderer?” Groklan shot the accusation at the Commander. The two Batarians were standing now, turned to Shepard.
 
“Bahak has nothing to do with what we’re discussing here!” Gavorn said, rising to his feet
 
“You stay out of this, Turian!” Balak sneered.
 
“I think you should quiet down, four-eyes.” Golarr said, approaching the circle around the fire. He stood just behind Balak, using his bulk to try to intimidate the Batarian. “Your voice grates on my nerves.”
 
“Oh yeah?” Groklan asked confrontationally. “What’s a lizard that only fires blanks gonna do?”
 
There was a creak as Motrak stood up, his massive bulk looming over the gathered pirates. His features were twisted into a ferocious snarl, his anger at the slur about the Genophage obvious.
 
“Say that again, Batarian.” He dared, menace dripping from every syllable. “I’m not sure I heard you right the first time.”
 
“Everyone calm down!” Alessa shouted, standing next to Golarr, her sister beside her.
 
“Back away little girl.” Motrak said obnoxiously. “This is going to get messy.”
 
“Make me.” Alessa said, as both her and Vanyala began to glow with biotics. Around the Lounge, weapons began to slide from holsters.
 
A sudden, sharp shot rang out through the room, silencing the gathered merc bosses instantly. They looked over to the source of the noise, and quailed back upon seeing the figure standing in the doorway.
 
Matte black armour pitted with the marks of scores of gunfights covered a form that was clearly female, from the wider hips to the subtle curves beaten into the chest-plate. A long, lanky arm dropped back down to her side, three-clawed hand still grasping the smoking pistol. The Turian moved towards fire pit, several of the mercs scuttling backwards to get out of her way. With a thump, she sat down in one of the chairs, bringing one foot up to rest on the edge of the fireplace while she tipped the chair back precariously. Her free hand reached up to unfasten the helmet, allowing the gathering to catch a glimpse of her sharp, feline features. Her mandibles, smaller than a male such as Garrus’, clacked impatiently as her stark red eyes darted about the room.
 
“You’re all yammering like a bunch of children.” She said, her voice surprisingly young considering the respect the others were giving her. “What does Aria have to say about it?”
 
“Who’s that?” Shepard asked, leaning just slightly to whisper to Sidonis.
 
“Delexia Tanis. Runs a small pirate band out in the Traverse. They’re few in numbers, but big on reputation. No one messes with the crew of the Starborn, not even Aria’s people. And that’s all down to Delexia. She’s smart, ruthless and absolutely lethal when she’s angry. I’ve never seen anyone get the better of her.”
 
“A useful ally to have?”
 
“I’d say so. If you can convince her to back your cause, a lot of people will follow her.”
 
As Delexia’s gaze travelled around the gathering, the assembled criminals sank back down into their seats, Golarr, Alessa and Vanyala finding their way to the remaining empty chairs. Balak stubbornly remained on his feet.
 
“Sit, Batarian.” The female Turian commanded. “I don’t have time for your crap.”
 
Balak’s lip curled up in a sneer of defiance, and expression that swiftly faded when Delexia’s pistol lifted, aiming at his kneecap.
 
“Either you sit on your ass or I put you on it.”
 
The Batarian terrorist reluctantly lowered himself into his chair.
 
“I see you’re busy making friends, Delexia.” Aria’s voice echoed from the entrance to the Lounge. The assembled pirates turned their gaze to the doorway to see the Asari approaching, followed closely by the Patriarch and a couple of Turian thugs. The Pirate Queen of Omega gracefully walked up to the fire pit, sitting in  seat almost directly opposite the Commander.
 
“Thank you all for coming.” She smiled, a mirthless twitch of her lips that conveyed no warmth whatsoever. “I will keep this short and to the point. A new threat has arisen in the Galaxy, an unknown race with strange new technology. They attacked Earth several days ago, decimating the Alliance forces stationed there and occupying the system. Since the attack, they’ve shut down the Charon-Arcturus Relay link, effectively isolating the Sol system from the rest of the Galaxy.
 
“The question we must ask ourselves is, how will we react to this new threat? Given their advanced technology, these beings and their ships have the combined fleets of the Council races outclassed and outgunned.”
 
“Between those of us gathered here, we represent one of the deadliest forces in the Galaxy. Our ships would be invaluable in any campaign undertaken against them. We’ve been gathered in order to decide whether the Terminus Cartels should commit to a war with this new enemy.” Patriarch continued for her.
 
“Why is Shepard here?” Alessa asked. “Surely this is a matter for our ears only.”
 
“Shepard is present because he has had contact with this new enemy.” Aria explained. “He has fought against them on several occasions.”
 
“So what perspective can you provide on these aliens?” Vanyala asked, thinking in sync with her twin.
 
“They’re called Reapers.” Shepard explained. “An ancient race of beings that comes through the Galaxy every fifty thousand years or so. They’re the ones responsible for the destruction of the Protheans, and the beings who built the Mass Relay network.”
 
“I find that hard to believe.” Balak said scornfully. “No race capable of space flight could have remained hidden from the Council for so long. And why would they abandon the Relays? If they only seek to destroy all other races, then why not just raze our planets as soon as they detect we have starship capable of using the Relays?”
 
“Because they leave the Galaxy once their work here is done, hibernating in Dark Space until it is time for their return. One Reaper is left behind to activate the Citadel, reopening the pathway for them to return to the Milky Way. The Reaper they left behind last time was Sovereign, Saren’s flagship.”
 
“You’re saying that these Reapers are the actual ships, not beings inside?” Motrak asked, disbelief in his voice.
 
“Yes. They’re living machines, artificial intelligences hundreds of thousands of years old.” Shepard explained.
 
“But this ‘Sovereign’ was destroyed during the Battle of the Citadel.” Fodra said. “How did the rest of these Reapers return from Dark Space if they needed the Citadel to do so?”
 
“They detonated a star deep in Geth Space, using the energy to create a Mass Effect Field extending out into Dark Space, exactly like a Mass Relay. An Alliance fleet went out there to try and stop them, but got there too late. Fortunately, only the first wave of the fleet made it through before the machine that was containing the star’s energy was destroyed, severing the link to Dark Space.”
 
“So the force that attacked Earth is only a fraction of what these Reapers can bring to bear?” Delexia asked, her eyes glinting intelligently.
 
“Yes. There are many more waiting to return, and that’s why the reapers took Earth. They intend to rebuild the machine and destroy Sol, using the power of the dying star to bring the rest of their race back.”
 
“I have never heard such garbage in my entire life!” Groklan spat. “The Human is clearly lying, trying to convince us to help him get his world back with tales of ancient horrors from beyond the edge of the Galaxy.”
 
“It’s the truth!” Shepard wanted to reach across the fire to wring the alien’s thick neck, his frustration at the Batarian’s pig-headedness reaching a boiling point. “And this is about a lot more than just Earth. If the Reapers finish their machine, the numbers they’ll be able to bring to bear will decimate the Galaxy.”
 
“That’s enough.” Aria said calmly, putting a stop to the argument in the making with her quiet words. “We’ve heard enough about these creatures, now we have to decide what to do about them.”
 
“I’m only going to repeat what I said earlier.” Vido said. “We can’t afford to get involved. If the Council’s military forces can’t take on this new threat, then we should look to how to keep ourselves safe when they are overrun. We need to pull back, fortify our own strongholds, make ready in case these creatures decide to come for us.”
 
“Spoken like the cowardly bastard that you are.” Zaeed’s comments carried over the group.
 
“I’m only being practical.” Vido said, not even deigning to glance in his old rival’s direction. “I’m sure as hell not throwing my ships against a technologically superior race that’s managed to seal themselves off in an entire solar system.”
 
“Say what you will Santiago, but I’m not going to sit back while these creatures rampage through our homeworld, getting ready to make their next move.” Susanna said defiantly.
 
“The Novas will join you, Susanna.” Fodra added.
 
“Then you are a fool, Salarian.” Balak said scornfully. “Your men will die trying to liberate the Human homeworld, a world you have no vested interest in.”
 
“Indeed.” Groklan said firmly. “Believe me when I say that no Batarian shall render the Humans aid.”
 
“I wouldn’t be so quick to speak for your people, Groklan.” Etarn said softly. On hearing the voice, the two Batarians present looked  over, eyes widening upon recognising the alien in Shepard’s entourage.
 
“Kol’Mehk.” Balak said, animosity evident in his voice. “I had hoped that Gorm had managed to deal with you.”
 
“I’m tougher than most would believe.” Etarn replied smoothly.
 
“And you… travel, with this Human?” Groklan asked uncertainly. “Willingly?”
 
“Yes. Shepard has proved to be an honourable being. I support his cause whole-heartedly, and my followers shall, too.”
 
“Then you will die along with the Human.” Balak spat. “Saving Gorm the trouble of having to do away with you himself.”
 
Shepard noted now that Groklan was no longer as firm in his stance as he had been before, and he was glad he had thought to bring Etarn along, realising that the Batarian’s status could win him more support than any negotiations on his part.
 
“My group shall support you, Shepard.” Sidonis said firmly.
 
There was a grumble from one side of the circle, where the two Krogan sat watching the negotiations thoughtfully. Finally Motrak stood.
 
“Wherever this war leads us, there is bound to be blood and glory aplenty. The Blood Pack shall fight, as we always have.”
 
“And the Bonebreakers will not be left behind!” Golarr said boldly, standing next to his kinsman. “If the Galaxy is to be united in a war to end all wars, it would be shameful for any Krogan to remain at home.”
 
“Eclipse may not have the brute strength of the Krogan, but we can offer aid in other ways.” Alessa said.
 
“Guns, ships, biotics, we can provide all of these.” Vanyala continued for her sister. “I am sure that mother will see the urgency of the matter. After all, once they have finished with Earth, what’s to stop the next target from being Illium, or Thessia?”
 
All eyes turned to the final two representatives of the Terminus Cartels, Aria and Delexia, waiting for them to announce either their support or their refusal of the Commander’s request for aid. Suddenly, Shepard’s omnitool buzzed, informing the Commander of a top-priority call coming in from Liara. He stood, making his way over to the Lounge’s bar for some privacy. Behind him, the gathered pirates continued their debate, watched over by the cunning eyes of Aria.
 
“Shepard. Thank the Goddess I’ve got a hold of you.” Liara’s voice was almost creaking with tension.
 
“What’s wrong?”
 
“I’ve just received some reports from my agents on Arcturus. The forces there have been hit hard by a small fleet of Reapers attacking from beyond the Charon Relay. The Reapers burst through the blockade around the Arcturus Relay and vanished before the Alliance ships could make any organised attack on them. They’re on the move.”
 
“Do you know where they are headed?” Shepard asked, his kind abuzz with the possible dangers.
 
“They used the Arcturus Relay to jump to another part of the network. Its incredible, but they managed to realign a Primary Relay with a secondary destination. There must be some advanced code they have access to that allows them to shape the Relay network in the fashion they desire. I’ve logged their transit through several different Relays in the past few minutes, before they went completely off the grid. I don’t know where they are now.”
 
“I thought you could monitor the activity through any Relay?”
 
“They’ve gone off the map, Shepard. There are many sectors of the galaxy we have not explored because we have not fully mapped the Mass Relay network. They must now be using undiscovered Relays to move about.”
 
“We’ll get right on it.” Shepard promised. “You keep an eye out for them and I’ll finish up with the mercs here.”
 
Shepard ended the transmission, turning back to his allies. Garrus looked at him inquisitively.
 
“Something the matter, Shepard?”
 
“We need to wrap this up.” Shepard said firmly.
 
He strode back down to the circle around the fireplace, the eyes of the gathered criminals watching him carefully.
 
“Something come up, Commander?” Sidonis asked.
 
“I've just got word that a force of Reapers broke through the blockade around the Arcturus Relay. We need to finish this quickly so that-”
 
A massive tremor passed through the station, titanic vibrations reaching even into the Lounge at the heart of Afterlife. The lights flickered, momentarily losing their intensity. On the shelves behind the bar, the bottles tinkled quietly, rattling dangerously close to the edge of their shelves. The gathered pirates leapt to their feet, looking about with concern. Aria's brow furrowed as she used her omnitool to open a channel to her underlings somewhere out in the station.
 
“What the hell happened?” She demanded harshly. Around her, the gathering listened to her conversation very intently.
 
“We're under attack!” Came the frantic reply. “Something big on our scopes just tore through the barriers like there was nothing there! Losing atmosphere in sectors thirteen, twenty-eight and seventy-two.”
 
“Who is attacking?” The Asari asked, her tone suggesting she was weary of having to deal with underlings who didn't think as clearly as she did.
 
“Look at the size of that thing!” The voice on the other end replied, obviously terrified by what he was seeing.
 
“What thing?” Aria persisted, barely keeping her frustration in check.
 
“It's a ship, about two kilometres long.” Her underling stammered. “Looks like a giant metal bug, or a squid.”
 
Shepard's heart thumped in his chest, instantly recognising the description. He stepped up next to Aria, placing a hand on her shoulder.
 
“It's the Reapers.” He said. “We need to scramble what ships we have to take it out.”
 
The Pirate Queen of Omega paused thoughtfully, hesitating as she tried to figure out what to do. Finally, she sighed.
 
“Go left in the corridor outside, take the door at the far end. You'll find yourself in the maintenance tunnels. They'll take you to an elevator that comes out close to the docking bays.” She turned to the gathered criminals. “Gather your people, get back to your ships, and get out into space. I want every ship we've got ready to fight this.”
 
The gathered pirates nodded, scurrying out of the Lounge. Shepard waited a few moments, looking at Aria with concern in his eyes. He noted that he was not the only one to stay behind, as Delexia refrained from leaving.
 
“What are you going to do?” He asked Aria.
 
“I've got to co-ordinate my forces from the station's control centre. Get to your ship, and go kill that ****ing thing before it does any more damage to my station!”
 
The Commander nodded, reluctantly moving to follow the directions the Asari had given him. He became aware of a strange presence at his side, and looked around to see the female Turian was following.
 
“My crew's all back on my ship, so I'm just as well following you straight to the docking bays.” She explained.
 
The squad pounded down the corridor away from the VIP Lounge, chased by tremors passing through the station, growing in frequency. After a few moments, they were faced with a pair of locked doors. The Commander slapped the door controls, but the only response he received was a negative buzz. Delexia stepped forward.
 
“Allow me.” She waved her omnitool over the interface, which sparked, flickered, and then vanished, followed by a creaking groan as the doors reluctantly parted.
 
“Not bad.” Shepard commented as the squad filed through.
 
“You think I got my reputation for my awesome people skills, soldier boy? I know how to get things done.” She bragged.
 
“I can see.” Shepard smirked as he followed the team into the maintenance corridors.
 
The group wove their way through the corridors, hurrying as the sounds of battle echoed around the station. With every tremor, the lights overhead flickered wildly, barely staying alight.

[fainmaca]

Chapter 23: Part 2 


As they rounded a corner, after several minutes of frantic running, the station shuddered with a ferocity unmatched by the previous tremors. The lights suddenly went dark, and the air around them was filled with a tremendous crash, followed by a whistling rush of air. The atmosphere began to get thinner and thinner, swiftly growing colder.
 
“Crap!” Garrus shouted over the roar of rushing wind. “Hull breach!”
 
“Helmets.” Shepard commanded, pulling his helmet from his belt, snapping the breather unit over his mouth. The rest of the squad followed his example, save for the Revenant, who did not need to breathe. Once the group was ready, the Commander waved for them to follow him.
 
They rounded a corner to see a massive mangled mess where the corridor had once led. Some debris from the battle outside, apparently a chunk of some ship's armour plating, had crashed into the building, bursting through the wall and sticking there. The corridor's atmosphere, now dangerously thin, was slowly leaking out through the gaps around the edge of the puncture.
 
Shepard stepped up to the carnage, looking for a way past. After a few seconds, he had ascertained that the blockage was completely impassable.
 
“Damn it. We'll need to find another way around.” He cursed.
 
“The doors on either side of this section will have sealed in response to the hull breach.” Delexia informed him, her voice twisted strangely by her helmet's filter. “I don't think even I could get past the deadlocks.”
 
Shepard racked his brains for some way to get past this new obstacle.
 
“There has to be some other way.” He paced the width of the corridor, before his eyes settled on the gap between the debris and the wall. He scanned the debris, seeing that one piece was not as big as the rest. He reached out to it, feeling a surge of confidence as it shifted.
 
“Grunt! Help me out here.”
 
The Krogan came over, planting his shoulder against the debris and shoving. The lump of metal shifted uncertainly, slowly sliding out of the hole. Grunt roared, throwing his full weight into the starship fragment, sending it spinning out into the space outside of the corridor.
 
“Quickly! We can walk across the surface.” Shepard shouted over the comms in his helmet.
 
The squad activated the magnetic plates in their boots and began to scramble out of the corridor and onto the surface of the building, exposed to the vacuum of space. Their boots clunked dully on the surface of the structure, the sound carrying to their ears through their suits. The last one to exit the corridor was the Revenant, whose insectile feet had little trouble keeping a grip on the metal underfoot.
 
Shepard looked upwards, gazing upon the dizzying structure of Omega. It was one of the stranger aspects of the city within the asteroid that it had been built from the ceiling down. The massive curve of the hollowed out asteroid served as a massive ‘cap’ on the spires of Omega, constantly hovering over the streets of the station. The spires extended downwards, constantly having levels added beneath levels, extending out into space a great distance. It was on the exterior of one of these spires that Shepard found himself now, almost at its furthest point from the central mass of the asteroid. The atmospheric barrier shimmered uncertainly far above the squad, along with their objective beyond. The Commander turned to his companions, waving for them to follow him closely.
 
The squad made steady progress down the length of the spire, quickly covering the distance between themselves and the street levels above. They were almost at the barrier responsible for maintaining the atmosphere on the levels closest to the rock of the asteroid when Shepard became aware of movement in the very edge of his peripheral vision. He turned and almost jumped, risking having his boots lose their grip on the metal of the spire and allowing him to spin off into space.
 
Not a hundred yards from the Commander, a Reaper raced through the vacuum between the spires of Omega, making a beeline for the street levels ahead of it. The massive creature forced its way through the atmospheric barrier and crashed down into the densely built-up region close to the docking bays, sending a shudder through the entire station. The Reaper began lashing out with its tentacles, scouring a path of devastation through the nearest buildings.
 
The squad looked on in surprised for a few moments before recovering their composure. Looking around, they saw other Reapers descending on various sections of the station.
 
“Come on,” Shepard commanded. “We need to keep moving. Keep your helmets on. I don’t like the way the barrier is flickering.”
 
The squad made their way upwards several more levels, finally reaching the lower, less densely concentrated street levels. Realising they were approaching the areas where the artificial gravity had an effect outside of the spires, Shepard began to look for a way into the spire again. As they passed through the rapidly weakening atmospheric barrier, his eyes settled upon a large window, about three metres across. He turned to the Revenant.
 
“We need to get back inside before the artificial gravity pulls us off the side of this spire. Think you can make us an opening?”
 
The Collector nodded, stepping over to the window. He paused for a second, waving his hands in the typical manner that suggested collecting his thoughts in preparation for a considerably powerful biotic attack. After a brief moment, he thrust a hand out, blue glow shimmering across the chitinous forearm. The transparent surface of the window creaked, a blue web of fractures piercing its form. With a crash, the window shattered, myriad fragments shooting out into the empty space before the squad. The razor-sharp shards tumbled around for a few seconds, beginning a lazy drift towards the streets above, pulled by the weak traces of the station’s artificial gravity. The Commander nodded to the Revenant, moving towards the new opening.
 
The squad climbed through the shattered window, deactivating their magnetic boots as they entered the interior of the spire and the artificial gravity of the interior of the station took over. Once everyone was inside, Delexia bringing up the rear, Shepard led the way to the nearest corridor, leading up to the top of the spire and the waiting ships.
 
After what seemed like an eternity, the squad finally reached the upper floors of the spire. The steady thump, thump, thump of Afterlife’s dance floor grew louder and louder, and finally the Commander found himself in more familiar surroundings, the corridors looking more and more like the main areas of the club. Shepard paused as they approached the thick pair of double doors that led to the main dance floor of the club. He held up a hand, indicating that the squad should wait. He turned to Garrus.
 
“You hear that?” Shepard asked tensely, drawing his rifle.
 
“I can’t hear anything over the music.” Garrus answered. “It’s not Yolan Noss’ best song, but nothing to get antsy about.”
 
“I can’t hear anything other than the music, and that’s the problem. Even in an emergency like this, we’d still hear someone in there. The club was packed out earlier. That number of people wouldn’t have managed to evacuate yet.”
 
“So where do you think everyone went?” Delexia asked, pulling a shotgun from her back.
 
“I don’t know, but something isn’t right about this.” Shepard muttered hesitantly. “Weapons ready, and try to keep quiet.”
 
Taking a deep breath, the Commander keyed the doors open. The two halves of the door slid apart with a whoosh, exposing the room beyond.
 
A grisly sight met the squad. Many of the club’s inhabitants had been torn apart, in many occasions literally. Shepard’s eyes were drawn to the corpse of a Krogan, face drawn taut in a rictus of pain as his legs and arms had been pulled off and cast aside as though they were of no concern. Shepard noted that every corpse in the room held some weapon or another in their cold, dead hands.
 
Shambling amongst the piles of the dead, masses of Husks looked over to the squad the instant the doors opened. The nearest ones opened their mouths, dead throats wheezing wetly as they began to lope towards the Commander and his allies.
 
Shepard’s finger instantly tightened on the trigger of his weapon, unloading a vicious volley of bullets into the attacking ranks. The first Husk in the enemy charge exploded in a shower of gore, followed swiftly by a half-dozen of its fellows. Shepard’s allies unleashed their attacks immediately after him, Grunt and Delexia using their shotguns to cut down the targets that managed to get close while Zaeed and Garrus joined Shepard in holding the bulk of the enemies back with their assault rifles. Etarn and the Revenant maintained a powerful barrage of biotic attacks, tearing into the mass of enemies with their minds.
 
As the last few Husks perished, Shepard became aware of a deeper, throatier roar coming from the far side of the dance floor. The Commander turned to the source of the noise to see three Scions shoulder their way through the doors leading to the club’s entrance foyer. A dense knot of Husks and Abominations shambled between them, running ahead in a headlong gait. At the same time, mournful howls echoed down the corridor behind the squad. Shepard spun on his feet to look to the rear, seeing the doors to the many private rooms hiss open, pouring Husks out into the corridor behind the squad.
 
“We can’t keep this up with enemies on both fronts!” Garrus shouted over the chant of his rifle. “We’ve got to find a more defensible position.”
 
“Aria’s platform should do.” Shepard concluded. “Fall back.”
 
The party scurried across the dance floor, the two clusters of enemies rapidly closing on them. As Shepard began to climb the stairs towards Aria’s favoured spot in the club, the squad turned to face the Husks, ascending the stairs backwards. Once they reached the apex of the stairs, they moved swiftly to their preferred roles. Garrus rolled into a crouching position on Aria’s throne, overlooking the dance floor. He pulled out his sniper rifle and began to fire at the approaching Scions, scoring several devastating hits on their heads, although the shambling monstrosities barely slowed. Grunt and Delexia took up positions at either side of the upper platform, using their shotguns to hold back the masses of Husks. The Revenant and Etarn stood atop the platform, using their biotics to lift enemies from the stairs as they tried to climb towards the squad, throwing the howling Husks and Abominations off the stairs and into the main bulk to their forces, oftentimes bringing down several of their comrades with them as they tumbled in an awkward knot of tangled limbs.
 
Shepard and Zaeed took up positions on either side of Garrus, using their assault rifles to rain down destruction on the Husks below. Seeing the Scions drawing closer and closer, Shepard barked out orders to his comrades.
 
“Take out the big ones!”
 
Zaeed nodded, reaching down to his belt. He pulled a small, circular object from a pouch there, pressing a button atop it. The tiny device beeped, flashing blue and red with increasing frequency. With expert aim, the old mercenary lobbed the device towards the Scions. The tiny object soared through the air, hitting the fleshy sac that formed the back of one of the creatures, where it stuck.. It blinked blue and red several more times before it stuck on red, the beep rising to a more insistent whine. With a tremendous whump, the device exploded, sending a column of white-hot flame jetting up towards the ceiling. The Scion burst open in a flush of gooey grey matter, limbs arcing across the room. The other two Scions tumbled to the ground, thrown aside by the blast. Shepard unloaded his thermal clip into the now exposed belly of the second Scion, tearing it apart. Beside him, Garrus used the last few rounds of ammunition to finish off the third one.
 
As the squad gunned down the last of the smaller enemies, the final Abomination exploding in a blast of fire that incinerated the Husks around it, a terrible wail reverberated through the club. A mournful chorus echoed up into the dance floor from the centre of the massive hologram that towered above the room in the centre. Appearing through the hole leading down to the next floor down, mottled by the shifting colours of the hologram, a Praetorian raced into view, turning its myriad dead faces towards the squad. Shepard only had time to widen his eyes in surprise before the monstrosity lunged towards him, razor-sharp limbs lashing out in a lethal flurry.
 
Shepard dropped to the floor, rolling out from under the wailing creature. Cursing, Zaeed was struck in the side, thrown back with a massive gash to his torso bleeding profusely. Garrus found himself trapped underneath the Praetorian, pinned by its massive bulk.
 
The Commander scurried back from the wildly flailing limbs, eventually backing up against the back wall of the alcove opposite Aria’s platform. As he lifted his rifle to fire, the Praetorian turned towards him, dozens of dead eyes looking at him with malevolence. The beast growled, launching itself at the Human with a wail. Shepard flinched back from the vicious attack, only for it not to land.
 
Shepard cautiously opened his eyes to see Grunt’s massive bulk standing between him and the Praetorian. The Krogan’s arms strained to hold back two of the monster’s limbs, clawed hands gripping metallic talons in a fierce grip. Grunt’s face twisted into a snarl as the two pushed against one another. Two of the Praetorian’s free limbs lashed forwards, sharp talons piercing the Krogan’s combat armour and his flesh with a squishy squelch. Grunt groaned from the pain, but did not relent in his efforts to wrestle with the creature.
 
Behind the Praetorian, Garrus got to his feet unsteadily, unholstering his assault rifle. The Turian instantly began unloading bullets into the beast at point blank range, tearing through its barriers with no effort at all. Delexia stepped up next to him, using her shotgun to blast away chunks of its metal shell. The Praetorian glowed blue as Etarn and the Revenant used their biotics to twist the metal, weakening it to the point that it cracked and fractured.
 
As the creature squealed in pain, Grunt pressed the attack, pushing with renewed vigour. He twisted to one side, throwing the monster off balance. As it skittered across the floor, he released one of the limbs, reaching in with lightning-fast reflexes and pulling one of the skulls from its maw. Convulsions coursed through the Praetorian’s form as its power systems weakened, an opportunity Grunt used to reach in and pull free several more skulls. With a gasp of defeat, the Praetorian slumped to the floor, lifeless.
 
The squad paused, breathing heavily from the exertion. Delexia stepped over to the barely conscious Zaeed, using her omnitool to administer a shot of medi-gel. She then took another dose of medi-gel and used it to seal the wound on his chest, staunching the bleeding. In seconds, the mercenary was able to clamber to his feet, tinkering with his suit’s kinetic barrier to compensate for the suit rupture.
 
As this was happening, Shepard checked on Grunt’s wounds. Although the Krogan stubbornly insisted he was fine, the Commander could see that the wounds were painful. The Praetorian had punctured his sides, catching a couple of his internal organs. Thankfully, his sturdy Krogan physiology was already at work repairing the damage, and his redundant organs were easily compensating for the damaged ones. As Shepard finished his inspection, Garrus stepped up beside him.
 
“We’ve got to get a move on, Commander. We’ve been delayed enough as it is.”
 
“You’re right. Come on, the docking bays aren’t far.” Shepard ordered the squad.
 
The party made their way out of Afterlife, stepping out onto Omega’s streets and a scene of utter chaos.
 
Omega’s denizens ran about in blind panic, screams of the injured, the dying and the just plain terrified filling the air. Husks raced about amidst the citizens, spreading terror and confusion wherever they went. Shepard saw a Scion pick up a struggling Asari with one hand, carrying the terrified alien as though she were a toy. Another cluster of Husks systematically pulled a Batarian apart, the four-eyed alien’s final defiant shouts accompanied by the sounds of a pistol firing wildly. The Commander noted that the majority of the people were being carried off, still alive and screaming. The only ones being killed were those that put up armed resistance, who were targeted and slaughtered with ruthless, machine-like efficiency.
 
Hanging over Afterlife like a malevolent god, a Reaper swung its limbs about in a destructive frenzy, levelling apartment buildings and warehouses as though they were made of matchsticks. The streets below were filled with the debris of destroyed buildings.
 
As Shepard watched, he caught sight of a large group of armed individuals making their way to the nearby skycar parking lot, where they scrambled to get into a multitude of vehicles. The Reaper sent a tentacle-like appendage waving past overhead, smashing through the buildings above the lot and sending a cascade of debris raining down on the skycars, almost burying them. After the smoke and dust had cleared, Shepard could see movement within the carnage.
 
“Come on! We’ve got to help!” He ordered. The squad obediently followed him.
 
They rushed over to the piles of smoking rubble, picking their way through the chaos. As they approached, Shepard noticed that the people buried by the rubble were wearing familiar armour. As he made this observation, the Commander rounded a large pile of debris to see a couple of familiar figures struggling to free themselves from the rubble.
 
Blood trickling from a wound to the side of his head, Balak tugged ineffectually at the rubble, trying to free himself. Beside him, Vido Santiago strained against a beam of steel pinning him down across his chest. The pair looked up as the squad approached.
 
“Shepard….” Vido managed weakly. “Help me…”
 
“Looks to me like you’re getting what was coming to you, you two-faced bastard.” Zaeed growled with relish, loving the fact that his nemesis lay dying at his feet.
 
“We can’t just leave them to this fate!” Etarn protested.
 
“Why not? Bastards have caused enough trouble already.” Zaeed said indifferently.
 
“He’s right.” Garrus admitted. “Balak’s a terrorist with enough blood on his hands to deserve this, and Vido’s a cunning bastard responsible for more than a few atrocities that would warrant the death penalty on any world.”
 
“We can’t just leave them here to die.” Etarn insisted. “Balak’s too valuable. Despite his extremist tendencies, he commands a large force. We’ll need those ships.”
 
“And Vido controls the Blue Suns.” Delexia added. “If he dies, no one will manage to consolidate their control over the organisation in time to help you take back your world.
 
“Besides which,” Grunt said. “You know what’ll happen if we leave them to the Reapers. Better to have them fight at our side than against us.”
 
Shepard hesitated, struggling over the choice. On the one hand, here lay two of his most hated enemies, at his mercy. Balak had threatened to destroy a prominent Human colony on Terra Nova, and Vido was in command of an army of blood-thirsty murderers painted up to look like professional soldiers, but they were both able commanders with the loyalty of thousands of fighters. In the end, he couldn’t throw away such a force.
 
“We’ll need the Blue Suns and Balak’s troops to fight the Reapers.” He said conclusively. “Help me get them out of here.”
 
“**** that, Shepard!” Zaeed shouted. “I’ve been waiting to kill this bastard for twenty years. I am not about to save his life!”
 
“Then help dig Balak out. I’ll help Vido.” Shepard said firmly. “But one way or another, we’re getting them out of here.”
 
Zaeed’s face creased in a deep frown, his scars writhing across his face like eels. He puffed out his chest in a show of defiance, to which the Commander retaliated with a fierce stare. The two seasoned warriors locked gazes for an instant, a battle of wills, before Zaeed finally stepped down, conceding defeat.
 
“Fine. Have it your sodding way. But don’t come cryin’ to me when the miserable little **** stabs you in the back.”
 
The squad set to work digging the mercenaries out from underneath the rubble. In moments, mostly thanks to Grunt’s awesome strength, combined with the Revenant and Etarn’s biotics, they had cleared the majority of the debris. Delexia helped Balak to his feet while Garrus went to the aid of Vido.
 
“You saved us, Human. I did not expect that.” Balak said, a little wonder in his voice. “I would not have blamed you for leaving us to die, but you chose to help.” He paused, clearly finding the next few words difficult. “…Thank you.”
 
“If you want to show your gratitude, just make sure you don’t waste this. We need every ship we can get to stop these things.” Shepard waved a hand at the Reaper, still destroying chunks of Omega behind them. “When the Alliance calls, you answer, clear?”
 
“As crystal.” Balak said gruffly. It was clear he was reluctant to help a Human, but after seeing the Reapers in action he could not deny the risk to his own people, and the Batarian was smart enough to know that they needed stopping.
 
“You’ll have the Blue Suns at your side, too, Shepard.” Vido said as he limped up to the Commander. “I don’t forget those who I owe a favour.”
 
“Good, now get back to your ships and try and cause some hell out there.” Shepard ordered.
 
As the mercenaries headed off on foot, their battered leaders struggling with their injuries, the squad clustered together.


“We’re not far from the docking bays now.” Delexia informed them. “The Starborn is just a couple of blocks away. The crew’s got her running hot, and as soon as I’m aboard we can be joining the fray in no time.”
 
“The Normandy’s close, too.” Shepard said. “We’ll see you to your ship and then make our own way off the station.”
 
Shepard and Delexia led the way through the rapidly emptying streets of Omega, heading straight for the docking bays. The Commander noted that the number of Husks visible in the streets was becoming fewer and fewer, as was the number of survivors they came across.
 
“Where is everyone?” Shepard wondered.
 
“Everyone in this area is probably either captured, dead or well on their way to the evacuation centres.” Delexia said. “But the other districts will still be crawling with civilians. There’s over eight million people on this station, so I doubt everyone’s gone yet. It takes time to move that many people around. Seems like the Reapers focused on clearing out the central zone of the station around Afterlife.”
 
After a few moments, the squad rounded a final corner and found themselves entering the docking bays. The Starborn sat in the nearest docking bay, engines humming powerfully. Delexia’s ship was painted a matte black, designed to move through the darkness of space unseen. The Starborn possessed graceful curves and a deceptively sleek design. Under her prow, a pair of large energy cannons hung ominously, a small part of the pirate vessel’s arsenal.
 
Behind the ship, the entrance to the docking bay shimmered, protected from the vacuum of space by a Mass Effect field. Beyond, the raging space battle could be seen. Several Reapers hung in space, using their beam weapons to rain destruction upon Omega. As the squad watched, several of the smaller spires opened up, their outer shells peeling away to reveal an array of large gun turrets. The station’s defences opened fire, launching a powerful barrage of projectiles at the attackers.
 
One Reaper hung in space closer to the docking bays than the others. As the squad watched, the station’s turrets fired upon it, glowing red rounds punching into the Reaper’s barriers powerfully. The Reaper spun, taking aim at the nearest turret, firing its beam weapon with devastating power. The turret vanished in a vast explosion, the shudder of its demise travelling through the entirety of the station.
 
Shepard’s eyes widened in concern as debris from the turret flew out in an expanding cloud of fire. One large piece of metal, at least twice the size of the Normandy’s shuttle, raced through space straight at the docking bay. With almost supernatural speed, the Commander spun on his heels, grabbing Delexia around the waist and dragging her back around the corner. The rest of the squad were quick to follow, Grunt bringing up the rear as the debris passed through the docking bay’s barrier.
 
Travelling at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light, the debris passed through both the docking bay and the Starborn’s barriers, tearing through the starship’s hull as though it were made of paper. The ship rumbled for a brief moment before the docking bay was bathed in a brilliant light, the ship’s engine core detonating with devastating force. An instant later, the thump of an explosion tangible in the air.
 
Seconds later, once the echoes of the explosion had quietened down, the squad carefully moved back around the corner. Delexia’s looked about in shock, surveying what was left of her ship.
 
All that remained of the Starborn was fragments of burning debris, surrounding a circle of white-hot metal and flames. Behind where the ship had once been, the environmental barrier shimmered uncertainly, its projectors heavily damaged. Shepard realised that the atmosphere was about to flood out of this area, threatening to sweep the squad out into space with the rush of air, breathers or not.
 
“We need to keep moving.” He ordered. “That barrier won’t hold long, and I don’t want to be here when it gives way.”
 
“My… my ship.” Delexia stuttered, clearly at a loss. “My crew.”
 
“We need to go, Delexia.” Shepard said insistently, tugging at her arm.
 
The Turian hesitated for a few more seconds before shuddering, seeming to reawaken. She turned and followed the Commander through the exit on the far side of the bay.
 
A few more twists and turns and the squad found themselves at the airlock leading to the Normandy. Shepard quickly punched in the code to open the airlock and they rushed onto the ship. Seconds later, the Normandy’s engines flared and she backed out of the docking bay, racing away from Omega’s streets.
 
~o~0~o~[/b]
 [/b]
Shepard hurried through the CIC towards the command console above the Galaxy Map.
 
“Joker, get us moving!” He shouted over his shoulder.
 
“Already on it.” The pilot replied.
 
“EDI, tactical analysis on the Galaxy Map.”
 
“Acknowledged.”
 
The Galaxy Map flickered, the holographic representation of the Milky Way vanishing as it was replaced by a map of the immediate area around Omega. The massive, mushroom-shaped station hung in the centre of the map, with the sinister forms of several Reapers hanging in space around it. Hundreds of smaller ships buzzed about, most attacking the Reapers while several were clearly making their way out of the system. Six Reapers still moved about amidst the spires of Omega, though they seemed to be making their way out of the station.
 
As Shepard took his position at the console above the map, a series of new targets hove into view on the field, a small fleet of ships that Shepard instantly recognised as Alliance. EDI’s holographic representation flickered up close to the Map.
 
“Commander, incoming message from Captain Barnett, SSV Jura.”
 
“Patch him through.”
 
“Commander Shepard, this is Captain Jonathan Barnett. We set a course for Omega as soon as we got word of the attack.”
 
“Good to see some reinforcements, Captain.” Shepard answered. “How’d you find out we needed help?”
 
“An anonymous informant proved most persuasive.” The Captain replied cryptically. Shepard smirked, instantly realising Liara’s influence at work. “Where do you need us, Commander?”
 
“Swarm the nearest Reaper, try and wear its defences down to take it out. We’ll only take these things down by working in packs.”
 
“Understood.”
 
“Shepard, this is Aria.” The Asari’s voice sounded over the comm channels.
 
“How’s Omega holding up?” The Commander asked.
 
“Not good. Our barriers are just about completely gone, most of our gun turrets are disabled, and we’ve got a lot of enemies in the streets. I’m co-ordinating our forces as best I can, but we’re fighting a losing battle here.”
 
“Patch your ships through to the Normandy, I’ll direct the battle from here. Focus on the enemies inside the station while we deal with those outside.”
 
“Done.” Aria responded almost immediately. “Take out these bastards, Shepard, and I’ll give you whatever resources the Terminus Systems have for your war.”
 
Shepard turned his attention to the battle, co-ordinating the myriad ships now at his command. Captain  Barnett’s forces systematically lowered the barriers on one Reaper and, at great cost to the Human forces, destroyed the first Reaper with a tremendous explosion which warmed  the hearts of all of the defenders. As the Reaper split apart in a glittering storm of debris, Shepard’s fist clenched in celebration, the only outward sign the Commander felt anything at the ancient machine’s demise.
 
As the battle raged, Shepard became aware of a cluster of Reapers moving through the asteroid field, circling around a particularly large asteroid. He was growing curious about what they were up to when EDI piped up again.
 
“Commander, I am detecting a surge of Dark Energy around the Reapers not directly involved in the fire fight.”
 
“What’s that mean?”
 
“The readings are synonymous with those of a biotic using their powers. It would seem that they are trying to move the asteroid.”
 
“Why?”
 
“I cannot be certain. However, the alignment of the Reapers may suggest that they intend to launch the asteroid at Omega.”
 
“My god!” Shepard gasped. “What can they hope to achieve by doing this?”
 
“Insufficient data to speculate.” The AI said flatly.
 
“This is Commander Shepard to all ships in system. There is a group of Reapers looking to launch an asteroid at Omega. Move to intercept. Stop that Asteroid at all costs.” The Commander ordered over the comms. Moments later, ships from all sectors of the system began to disengage from their battle with the Reapers around the station and made a bee-line for the asteroid.
 
As the motley assortment of Alliance and pirate ships approached, the Reapers around the asteroid glowed with a brilliant flash of biotic light, expending tremendous amounts of power. Tendrils of blue light caressed the surface of the asteroid, curling around it. With a lurch, the asteroid began to cut a lazy swathe through the asteroid field towards Omega. Smaller asteroids shattered in its path or were cast aside as the gargantuan object curved towards the station.
 
“The station’s barriers won’t stop an object that big.” Shepard said over the comm channels. “Open fire! Break it apart.”
 
The assembled defenders began to fire on the asteroid, blasting chunks out of its surface, but their combined firepower did little to the overall mass of the asteroid. Within moments, the asteroid had accelerated to an incredible speed, swiftly approaching the station. It only took a few seconds for it to become apparent that the asteroid could not be stopped.
 
“Aria, this is Shepard.” He shouted over the comms. “We can’t stop this thing, get your ass out of there!”
 
“I’m-“ Aria’s reply was suddenly consumed by static, and the display before the Commander flickered as an alien presence infiltrated the comm channels.
 
“EDI? What the hell happened?” Shepard looked about in confusion. The voice that answered him, however, was not the Normandy’s AI.
 
“Shepard,” The voice was deep, menacing, and by now all too familiar.
 
“Harbinger.” Shepard answered without a trace of surprise. “I should have known you’d have a hand in this.”
 
“You struggle in vain. Now, witness the futility of your defiance as one of your strongest bastions falls before our might.”
 
Back on the display, the asteroid completed its journey, tearing into Omega’s spires. Towers of metal splintered into dust, the shock of the impact shuddering through the entire structure. The asteroid carved its way through the centre of the station, leaving nothing but fragments of metal in its wake. The comm channels suddenly filled with the cries of thousands dying instantly, intermingled with the terrified queries of those who were not yet aware of the danger.
 
Shepard watched the holographic display in shock, unable to do anything to stop the atrocity unfolding before his eyes. Around the CIC, the entire crew stopped, many staring with mouths agape as the black heart of the Terminus Systems was torn open.
 
Moments after the attack had begun, it was over. Amazingly, the station still remained, although the asteroid had cut a massive streak of destruction through the middle of the spires. With a lurch, the Commander realised that the district that had contained Afterlife, the hub of the station, no longer existed, shattered by the Reapers’ vicious assault. Shepard anxiously reopened his commlink.
 
“Aria? Aria, this is Shepard, do you read me?”
 
The comms hissed with static, no reply forthcoming from Omega’s Pirate Queen.
 
“Aria, please respond.” Shepard’s voice was becoming tense with worry.
 
“Now you see the truth of your devastation. It is inevitable that our kind shall cleanse your Galaxy. One of your most powerful fortresses lies in ruins, one of your strongest leaders dead in the flaming-“
 
“Hey Harbinger,” A familiar Asari voice echoed over the comms, causing Shepard’s heart to lift in exultation. EDI highlighted a small cluster of ships emerging from the devastation of Omega. “Better luck next time, you son of a ****!”
 
“Aria!” Shepard almost shouted over the comms. “You had us worried for a second there.”
 
“I’m touched, Commander.” Aria quipped back. Shepard could hear the smile she bore on her haughty blue expression.
 
“Your survival is immaterial.” Harbinger said arrogantly, although the Commander thought he could hear a tinge of annoyance in the Reaper’s voice. “We shall raze your fleets, and your worlds shall burn. Our brethren shall return, and you will all die.”
 
“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.” Aria responded arrogantly. “You just pissed off a dangerous person to have as an enemy. You might have destroyed my station, but I swear to you, I’m going to rebuild it using your twisted metal corpses.”
 
“Your threats mean nothing. Flee, and prepare to meet your destiny.” Harbinger responded haughtily.
 
On the holographic display, the Reapers began to converge on the stricken station. As the Commander watched, EDI’s interface flickered into being next to the display.
 
“Commander, I am getting new readings on the asteroid Omega has been built into. It seems that the asteroid the Reapers used to attack has broken through a previously impenetrable layer of extremely dense rock. This has exposed a previously undiscovered lode of Element Zero within the depths of the asteroid.”
 
“I thought that the Protheans exhausted the asteroid completely.” Shepard said, the hint of a question in the statement.
 
“Apparently not. It would seem that this cache of eezo was enclosed in a pocket of super-dense materials. It is possible it is a cache of resources the Reapers left behind during a previous invasion.”
 
“Well, now we know why they came here. They’re here for resources for building the Sol Relay to Dark Space.” Shepard said. “We’ve got to stop them.”
 
“Eezo in its raw state is very volatile.” EDI explained. “If you were to fire upon the lode, it would be incinerated. However, the rest of the station will be consumed in the explosion.”
 
“Shepard, you can’t!” Aria gasped over the comms. “We’re still working to get the survivors out of there.”
 
Shepard groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
 
“EDI, how many people are left on the station?”
 
“Scans indicate as many as six million survivors remain on Omega. Evacuation will take as long as seven hours to complete. However, during that time, the Reapers will be able to completely remove the Eezo from the asteroid.”
 
“We’ll go where you direct, Commander.” Captain Barnett said. “Just say the word, and that asteroid is history.”
 
“Shepard, you can’t do this!” Aria protested. “We need the Alliance ships to help us with the evacuation!”
 
Shepard groaned, lowering himself onto his elbows, looking over the holographic map. He weighed up the options in his head, not liking either choice. Stop the Reapers from getting a hold of an incredibly valuable cache of resources, thereby delaying the construction of the Relay that would spell certain doom for the Earth, but leading to the death of six million innocent individuals, or direct Barnett to help in the evacuation and let the Reapers get away with more eezo than the Alliance had seen since the discovery of the Charon Relay. He took a second to make his choice.



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[fainmaca]

*Double Post*

Modifié par fainmaca, 04 mai 2011 - 01:02 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 24: No Price Too High?

"Shepard? What are your orders?" Barnett pushed.

The Commander took a deep breath, re-opening the comm channel.

"Captain Barnett, hold your fire. Direct your ships to assist in the evacuation."

"But sir-"

That's an order, Barnett. We're not about to throw away that many lives over a pile of rocks. Your job is to help those civilians get off that station before the atmosphere leaks away into space. Do I make myself clear?"

"… Yes, sir." The Alliance captain responded sullenly.

"Thank you, Shepard." Aria responded. "You're making the right choice."

"We'll see." Shepard replied bitterly. "I want the merc bosses to meet with me aboard the Normandy once the evacuation is over. Hopefully now they'll see sense. Make sure you're there, too."

"Of course, Commander." The Asari responded smoothly.

Shepard turned from the display, unable to watch as the holographic images of the Reapers dug deep into the asteroid. He descended the steps, unsure of what to do in the meantime. Kelly approached him cautiously, a concerned look on her face.

"You're doing the right thing, Commander. The Reapers could have found the eezo anywhere. The lives you've saved would have been a lot harder to replace."

"If you say so." The Commander replied gruffly. "Let me know when our guests arrive."

With that, he strode towards the elevator, keying in the command to travel up to his cabin.

~o~0~o~

The hours passed, and the Reapers continued their harvest. All too soon, the gargantuan machines had taken as much as they needed and retreated, leaving the asteroid completely devoid of resources. The evacuation effort was still underway, although survivors were becoming increasingly hard to find amidst the wreckage. The mass of pirate and Alliance ships present in the system were filled almost to capacity. Even the Normandy had taken on a couple of shuttle-loads of civilians, who were being housed down in the main Cargo Hold. Needless to say, given the nature of Omega's inhabitants, they were being closely watched at all times.

The Commander was amazed by how much co-operation he was seeing between the ships of the Terminus systems and the Alliance. Considering one faction was completely lawless while the other upheld the laws the former so blatantly flaunted, Shepard had expected some friction. And yet, in the face of such a crisis, everyone had pulled together. It raised his hopes that maybe the Galaxy could be united to face the Reaper threat.

The station had almost been completely emptied when a message beeped quietly on Shepard's private terminal, informing him that a shuttle bearing the merc bosses was coming in to dock with the Normandy. He slowly stood up from his desk, stretching his shoulders wearily. He picked up the steaming mug of coffee on his desk and downed the contents, wincing at the bitter strength of it, and turned to head down to the CIC.

The crew were bustling around on the Command Deck, some rushing to perform repairs to the minor damage sustained in the Reapers' initial attack and the rush to stop their attack with the asteroid collision. Others were simply eager to be doing something, the adrenaline of the recent enemy engagement jangling through their systems and rendering rest impossible. The Commander wove through the bustle, making his way to the airlock behind the cockpit.

He arrived just as it began to cycle open, nodding to Garrus, Feron and Kaidan, who stood to attention just behind Joker's chair. The Commander stood next to them, facing the whirring door as it slid open.

Aria stepped onto the Command Deck, carrying herself imperiously. She was flanked by two Batarian guards, and followed closely by the Patriarch. This first group was soon followed by a battered Balak and Vido Santiago, their battle armour heavily damaged by the debris that Shepard had rescued them out from under. Lumbering behind them, Golarr and Motrak bowed their heads to get through the Human-sized airlock. Shepard almost jumped upon realising that Motrak was missing almost the entirety of his right arm, although the Krogan appeared not to notice, or at least not to be bothered by it. Gavorn, Sidonis and Groklan soon followed them, apparently unscathed. Susanna Morven was close behind, nursing a wound to her side. The last ones to step through were Fodra and Vanyala Sederis. Shepard noted that Alessa, Vanyala'a sister, was missing, as was Fodra's Drell assistant, presumably casualties, judging from the sombre expressions they both bore.

Finally, the entire party had disembarked from the shuttle and stood in the corridor leading back to the CIC. Shepard gestured for them to move back to where there would be more room, especially for the three Krogan in the group. Once they had all taken places around the Galaxy Map, the Normandy crew shuffling out of the way to make room for them, Shepard took his place at the head of the map, from where he could see the faces of each one present. As he prepared to speak, he saw Delexia step into the CIC, taking a place at the far end of the Map.

"I think we can safely say that you now understand the threat this new enemy presents." He began, deciding not to beat around the bush. "We'll need every gun, ship and soldier we can muster if we're to put a stop to the Reapers. They're building a machine, with Earth's sun as its power source. If they complete this machine then we'll have to face a fleet many times the size of the one you saw today. The Alliance is getting ready to try and stop this, but we'll need your help. I need you to unite the pirate gangs, mercenary companies and slaver groups of the Terminus into a single fleet to join us in taking back the Sol System."

"Whatever anyone else says, you have my gratitude for sparing Omega. What resources I have left at my disposal are yours, Shepard." Aria vowed strongly. Patriarch smiled broadly from behind her.

"Those bastards took my sister from me." Vanyala said, her voice almost breaking. "This is something Eclipse won't forget. You have our support."

"This will be a war to be remembered for all time." Motrak said. "I wouldn't miss it for all the credits in the Galaxy, and neither will my men."

As he made this bold declaration, Golarr next to him looked somewhat more uncertain, but Shepard caught a stern glare being traded between the Bonebreaker leader and the Patriarch, after which the Krogan's hesitation evaporated.

"The Bonebreakers will join you, Shepard."

Fodra nodded his support, as did Groklan, Susanna and Gavorn.

"My men are ready to fight by your side, Commander." Sidonis said proudly.

"As are the Blue Suns." Vido said quietly. Although it was obvious he was determined to help, it was also clear he was uncomfortable pledging support to someone who had so recently been his enemy.

"The ancestors know that you and I could not be counted as friends, Shepard." Balak said grimly. "But you did save my life today. My honour demands that I repay you with the support of my men."

All eyes turned to the last figure around the Map, Delexia Tanis. Clearly they had doubts as to what she could bring to the discussion, what with the loss of her ship and crew. But the Turian's voice was strong, as was the firm set to her jaw mandibles.

"I may not have a ship to offer any more, but I've got connections that'll get things done. And, if you'll have me, I'd be honoured to serve on your crew, Commander."

"An extra gun pointed at our enemies is always welcome, Delexia. I'd be happy to have you aboard the Normandy."

"So it's settled then." Aria said grimly. "For the first time since the Asari discovered the Mass Relays, the Terminus Systems shall unite to go to war against a single enemy."

"Thank you all for your support." Shepard said sincerely, feeling gratitude even towards the spiteful Balak. "Believe me when I say that every singly soldier we can send against the Reapers counts."

"Then I suppose it is time for us to return to our ships." Vido said.

The gathering dispersed, the assembled pirates, mercs and criminal warlords heading back up the corridor towards their shuttle. Sidonis hung back a few paces, something clearly on his mind. He paused long enough for the others to move out of earshot before turning to face Garrus. He appeared to struggle to find the right words.

"I am trying to make things right, Garrus. I know you have your doubts, and I don't blame you. I've hardly given you cause to trust me. But I'm doing what I can."

Garrus' expression remained stony for a few more seconds, before finally relaxing with a resigned sigh.

"I know, Sidonis. And I understand why you did what you did. I can't forgive you yet, but I understand."

The younger Turian seemed taken aback by this admission, and he mouthed a few words silently, clearly uncertain what to say.

"Th-thank you, Garrus." He finally managed before turning to follow the rest of Omega's leaders.

The pirates clambered through the airlock into the shuttle, until finally only Aria and the Patriarch remained. The Pirate Queen of Omega turned to have a few quiet words with the Commander.

"Thank you again for sparing the station. I know it wasn't easy to let those things get away with so much raw materials. But it saved a lot of lives."

"How many did we manage to save?"

"Upwards of four and a half million."

"That still leaves almost two million dead or captured." Shepard sighed, the heaviness of those words pulling at his heart.

"Better just two than all six and a half million." Aria reassured him. "And nearly all of those you saved will have a degree of combat training. These are Omega's citizens after all."

She looked hesitant for a moment, before leaning forward and brushing Shepard's cheek with her lips. The Commander felt a thrill travel up his spine at the contact, an electric sensation that left him longing for more. She stepped back, grinning flirtatiously.

"Say hi to Wrex why don't you? I hear the cantankerous old bastard is still running around looking for something new to shoot in the face."

"You know Wrex?" Shepard asked with a measure of surprise. "How?"

"Oh, it was long before your grandparents were even born. A boring story you've probably already heard." She smiled roguishly as she stepped back into the airlock, following the Patriarch. She winked as the door began to close between her and Shepard. "Better luck next time, Commander!"

Shepard smiled as the airlock hissed closed. Once the shuttle had properly disengaged from the Normandy, he turned and headed off down the corridor towards the CIC and a proper night's rest.

~o~0~o~

The next day, the Commander stepped out into the CIC, feeling greatly refreshed. He rubbed at his clean-shaven chin, a yawn venting his remaining fatigue as he stepped over to his station at the Galaxy Map.

Kelly was already there, stack of datapads in hand. He smiled at Shepard as he walked by.

"Commander. How are you today?"

"Never better, Kelly. What've you got for me today?"

"Nothing much. No messages, for once. However, you may want to check on Etarn. He's seemed a little out of sorts today. I'm a little worried, but he won't let anyone talk to him. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"I'll go see what's wrong. Where is he?"

"Last I saw of him he was down in the Starboard Obseravtion Lounge."

"Right. I'll head on down there right away."

"Okay. In the meantime, where's our next destination, Commander?"

"The Citadel. There's a smuggling operation we need to break up, and a relic we need to recover."

"Alright. I'll go tell Joker."

The Commander nodded to his personal assistant before heading back to the elevator, making his way down to the Crew Deck. He exited the elevator and turned left, heading straight for the Observation Lounge. The doors hissed open to reveal the Batarian, pacing before the window, obviously in deep thought. The alien looked up as Shepard walked in, but swiftly turned away, clearly angry.

"Etarn?" Shepard asked cautiously. "Kelly said something was bothering you."

"Do not talk to me, hypocrite!" The Batarian seethed.

"Hypocrite? What did I do?" Shepard asked, confused.

"You preach the mantra that we must pay any price to stop this menace. You sacrificed my people in the Bahak System to put a stop to one stage of their plan. And yet, when it comes to the lives of your own people in Omega, you hesitate! You let the Reapers get away with vital resources, perhaps the key to their return to the Galaxy and the destruction of civilisation as we know it. I have seen a great deal of hypocrisy from within the government of my own people, but I never expected it from you."

"Etarn, I tried to warn your people on Aratoht. Had Doctor Kenson not cut me off, they would have had two hours to evacuate the planet, more than enough time for the authorities to get most if not all of the civilians through the Relay. I had no choice in their deaths. Had any other alternative presented itself, I would gladly have chosen that route. Omega was different because I actually had a choice in the matter."

"And I can't help but notice all the Humans your choice spared. What would you have done had it been a completely alien space station? Would you have allowed the Reapers to get away then?"

"That's bull**** and you know it."

"Do I? I find it hard to understand just how far you'll go to protect your own kind. After all, not too long ago you leapt into an alliance with Cerberus to protect your own people. And yet you claim your principles would not allow you to stoop to their level. How strong would your principles be if your kind were threatened, I wonder? How quickly would your morals crumble?"

"You don't believe that." Shepard asserted. "I'm not like the Illusive Man."

"Maybe, but the point still stands that you've allowed our enemy to attain a significant victory today." Etarn's voice was still harsh, but the Commander could tell that his words were getting through.

"Etarn, listen to me. You know I wouldn't let so many people die without giving them a chance to get out first. I tried to do the same for Bahak, but that opportunity was stolen from me. I couldn't let the Reapers do that to us again."

"I… I understand, Shepard. And I respect the strength you needed to make this decision. I pray such a choice will never be placed before me." Etarn sighed, striding over to the window. He gazed out at the stars, blinking slowly, wearily. Shepard realised that the alien had not been getting much sleep.

"There's something else, isn't there?" He prodded.

"Yes, there is. Though now that you ask, the topic weighs in my belly like a stone, unwilling to be revealed."

"You can tell me." Shepard reassured him. Etarn's eyes flicked towards him before darting back towards the stars outside.

"I have received a message from my allies within the Hegemony." He sighed. "Gorm Jib'bat is preparing my people for an attack on Humanity."

"What?" Shepard asked incredulously. "Now? With the Reapers right there?"

"The Reapers are precisely why he feels now is the time to strike." Etarn explained. "With the loss of Earth, the Alliance is weak, and ill-prepared for a war with the Batarians. And he has a lot of support. My people are baying for blood, Commander. And seeing as how you managed to avoid being handed over to the Hegemony, they feel that any and all Humans will do. This conflict has been approaching since you ventured past the Charon Relay, Shepard. It's now upon us."

"There must be some way we can convince your people of the real threat."

"There may be a way. But it would require a great deal of planning, and we would need to remove Gorm from the equation. His hatred of Humanity is the cornerstone of his regime's popularity, and their power."

"So how do we do that?"

"We'd need to go to a place I'd hoped never to have to bring you, Shepard. The heart of Batarian government."

"Is it on Khar'Shan? I don't know why you'd be so reluctant to take me there. After all, we met you there before you came aboard."

"It is not Khar'Shan." Etarn said dismissively. "We moved our government away from our homeworld long ago, as soon as we realised there were other species in the Galaxy. We realise that keeping the heart of our political empire on our homeworld would make it too obvious a target. The Hegemony Council gathers in a very different location."

"So where does it meet?"

"We call it the Eye of Torla'kht. A space station, the largest structure built by Batarian hands, and our best kept secret. Like the Citadel, it is hidden within a Nebula, although ours proves to be much more destructive to intruders. There is only one safe path to it, and this path is only shared with the most prestigious individuals in our society."

"Why the fancy name?"

"Torla'kht was a very important Batarian, one of the founders of our civilisation. A… legend among our people, if you like."

"I take it you know the way?"

"I once killed a man who did, so yes." The Batarian grinned.

"Alright. Get the co-ordinates to me the first chance you get. We'll head there as soon as we can."

"I appreciate this, Commander. Doing this may help to unite my people, against the Reapers and beyond."

Shepard nodded as he stood, walking back out of the Observation Lounge.

~o~0~o~

As the doors to the Observation Lounge hissed closed behind him, Shepard saw the retreating back of Delexia pass through the doors to the Crew Quarters down the hallway. He sped up, hurrying to catch up with her.

"Delexia!" He called.

The Turian turned from the bunk she was standing next to, smiling when she caught sight of the Commander.

"Shepard. Need something?"

"Just thought I'd check in with you, see how you're adjusting to life aboard the Normandy."

"I'm doin' good, Commander. Your crew's been very welcoming."

She leaned over her bunk, pulling her pistol from it's holster on her hip and hanging it on the wall, where some makeshift hooks had been installed. Shepard marvelled at the weapons arrayed beside the bunk.

"Quite a collection you've got there. How'd you convince Jacob to give you all the extra weaponry?"

"Hmm? Oh, they didn't come from the Normandy's armoury. I brought them aboard myself."

"What? How? The only things you were carrying was a shotgun and a pistol."

"That you could see. I have a personal policy of not going anywhere without at least two dozen weapons on my person at all times."

"How do you manage to hide it all?" Shepard asked wondrously as his fingertips brushed the hilt of a long, serrated dagger.

"I stash them here and there. That pretty little blade you're looking at gets put up my-"

"O-kay, that's enough about that." Shepard interrupted, his hand pulling back like the weapons had burst into flames. Delexia laughed, a surprisingly light, tinkling noise to come from a face as harsh as a Turian's.

"Relax, Commander. I'm very particular about keeping my toys clean. But I imagine you didn't come down here to discuss how clean I keep my knives. What's on your mind, Shepard?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay, is all."

"Oh, I see." She said knowingly. "You want to make sure that I'm still steady after the loss of the Starborn."

"It's not an easy thing to go through."

"You talk like you've lived through losing your ship before."

"Technically, I didn't live through it. This is the second Normandy. I was in command of the first when the Collectors blew it apart."

"Collectors. Like your Revenant in the Med Bay."

"Yup."

"Seems to me that myths are queuing up to introduce themselves to you, Shepard. Wouldn't surprise me if the Lady of the Moon clambered up from the Netherdark to threaten you at this stage."

"The Lady of the Moon?" Shepard asked curiously.

"A childish story. Surprised Vakarian hasn't told you it already. Heard you were buds back when you chased down Saren." The Turian's brow creased. "What did you mean, 'technically you didn't live through it'?"

"When the first Normandy was destroyed, I was one of the casualties." Shepard explained, almost casually. By this point, explaining his death, or near-death, or whatever it had been, was almost second nature upon making a new acquaintance.

"Uh huh. Maybe I should get that Solus in here. I think some of the rubble from Omega caught you a good whack on the head…"

"It's true."

"And you're here to tell the tale because… what? You turn up at the gates of Heaven wearing trainers? I hear they're big on their whole black tie policy in the afterlife."

"It took several billion credits and two years of research with top-of-the-line equipment to get me to wake up again. It wasn't easy, but somehow they managed to save enough of who I had been to rebuild me."

"Huh." Delexia was thoughtful for a moment. "You ever remember what you saw, between the ship blowing up and you waking up again?"

"Weren't we talking about your ship getting destroyed?" Shepard asked, swiftly turning the conversation around. He never felt comfortable, talking about what he had experienced. It was a touchy philosophical experience, and he knew it was not wise to dwell on it.

"Okay, touchy subject. Forget I asked." Delexia sat on her bunk, leaning back against the wall with her legs dangling off one side of the bunk.

"I guess it'll take a while to get used to not waking up in my cabin. I keep expecting to get a call from Kalos, my first mate, asking why the hell I've taken so long to report in."

"You had a big crew?"

"Not really. Only needed a handful to run the Starborn. The rest were combat troops. But I'd handpicked each and every last one of them. A bloodthirsty bunch, but we were like a family, you know?" Her eyes glistened. She took a deep breath, turning to lie down completely on the bunk. "No offence, but I'm not feeling real chatty just now, Shepard. Maybe we can talk about this another time?"

"Sure." Shepard said, understanding a plea for personal space when he heard it. "Look after yourself, Delexia."

"It's what I'm best at." She threw back as he strode out of the Crew Quarters.

Shepard made his way through the Crew Deck towards the forward batteries, dodging out of the way of a cluster of crewmen just about to start their shift. He nodded to Gardner in passing, the seasoned sergeant leaning over a pot of strong-smelling stew as he stirred it. Shepard glanced to the opposite side of the Mess, through the windows of the Med Bay, to see Archer and the Revenant poring over some complex machinery. The Human Doctor tweaked a setting, and the machine sparked wildly until the Collector calmly leaned over and activated a control. Although the alien's face had no muscles to convey emotion, his frustration at what he viewed to be the Human's primitive understanding of technology was obvious through his body language. Shepard shook his head and continued walking.

The doors to the gun batteries slid open, revealing the feet of Garrus sticking out from underneath the weapons. One twitched as he moved to gain better purchase for his task.

"That you, Gabby? Hand me the arc-welder, could you?"

Shepard smiled as he picked up the requested tool and knelt down next to the Turian's feet, handing it to his friend.

"Here you go, but I'm not Gabby."

"Commander!" The Turian's voice echoed out from under the Normandy's cannon. The feet began to squirm as he tried to work his way out. "Gimme a second and I'll be out of here."

"Don't bother." Shepard said, not wanting to interrupt his friend's work. "Need a hand down there?"

"Actually, yeah." The Turian admitted. Shepard lay down on the deck and slid under the gun next to Garrus. The Turian pointed to a loose plate. "Can you hold that in place for me while I attach it? Perfect."

"Sure was interesting to meet Sidonis again." Shepard commented as a couple of sparks leapt out from the plate as Garrus fastened it.

"I guess." The Turian's tone, while not discouraging the conversation, made it clear that he'd hoped to avoid discussing it. Shepard knew that that wouldn't be healthy in the long run, so he pressed forwards.

"He's done well for himself, and it sounds like he's doing good work."

"I'm not so convinced."

"Come on, Garrus. How long are you going to keep this up? He's trying to make amends."

"I know. And I know that you don't approve of holding grudges, Shepard. Hell, if you had I don't reckon Sidonis'd still be breathing." Garrus lowered the tool thoughtfully. "And I know that if you had let me just kill him then his death would have haunted me more than his betrayal. But I'm just not ready to forgive him yet, and I'm pretty sure I never will be."

"Why? What's bothering you so much about it?"

"It's just… we were a family, y'know? Maybe not as close a crew as what you've got here, but we still depended on one another to watch our backs. The betrayal hits deep. You've not had to deal with something like that, Commander."

"What about when Wrex turned on us on Virmire?"

"That's different. You managed to talk him down before he did anything he'd regret. Besides, he's more than proved himself since then. Helping you defeat Saren, uniting the Krogan, hell even taking Grunt into his clan."

"And you think Sidonis hasn't proven himself just because there's no rogue Spectre for him to chase down, or because he's not got enough political influence to make a difference?"

"That's not what I'm-"

"Yes, it is, Garrus. He's doing what he can to make a difference. If that's as a gun for hire to the oppressed people of the Terminus Systems, then that's fine. You told him you understood why he betrayed you, so why not forgive him?"

Garrus paused for a moment, sharp eyes staring at the underside of the gun as he thought. Finally, he sighed.

"You're right. You're right. He has fulfilled his promise. He's doing what he can to make things right. And he's done a good job so far. Although I find it hard to admit it, I am actually proud of what he's accomplished."

The pair finished their work on the underside of the gun, scooting back out and stretching their backs after working in the cramped space.

"Thanks for the chat, Shepard. Feels good to unload."

"Anytime, Garrus."

"Yeah. In the meantime, what about yourself, Commander? That wasn't an easy decision you faced back there."

"It was hard. I can't shake the feeling I've betrayed my own people somehow. I gave the Reapers a significant headstart on the construction of the Sol Relay and for what? Many would argue that Omega's citizens are not worth saving."

"Anyone who'd say that isn't worth listening to. I think you made the right choice, Commander. What's the point in stopping the Reapers if we end up with nothing left except a pile of our own dead to show for it? That's what they want."

"I guess so." Shepard conceded. "I wasn't about to have another Bahak hanging on my conscience."

"This again?" Garrus said dismissively. "Look, Shepard. Bahak wasn't your fault. If you want someone to blame, then point the finger at the Reapers. They're the ones who pushed Kenson to stop you. They're the ones who made it impossible for those Batarians to get out of there."

"You think so?"

"I know so." The Turian said firmly. "And I'm not about to let you wear yourself down trying to carry all that guilt around with you. No one should have to do that, but you keep trying anyway, like the stubborn bastard you are."

Shepard laughed at this, patting Garrus on the shoulder.

"I'm sure you're right, Garrus. Thanks for that."

"See you around, Commander." The Turian waved a hand over his shoulder as he turned back to his work.

~o~0~o~

Shepard's next stop was on the crew deck. He stepped out of the elevator, only to almost bump into Grunt. The massive Krogan was staring out into the main Cargo Bay, leaning on the windowsill of the large viewport gazing downwards. Beyond the wndow, numerous crew worked to clear the Cargo Bay. A lot of the equipment had been shifted during Omega's evacuation to make room for the refugees and, now that those survivors had been offloaded onto another ship, there was a lot of work to do.

Grunt turned as the Commander walked around him to stand at the window.

"Battlemaster." He said by way of greeting.

"Grunt. How're you keeping?"

"I am well, Shepard. Though I feel tense. I dislike letting those machines get away with so much. And for what? To save those criminals on Omega."

"You think I should have let them die?" Shepard asked.

"They're weak! Protecting them at the cost of your own homeworld only displays even greater weakness. Had it been Warlord Graanth or Shalvuur on the battlefield, there'd be nothing left of that station but dust."

"And in the process, they'd have lost the support of the Omega Cartels, along with millions of potential combatants. Not to mention the damage done to the morale of their own troops upon seeing their leaders sacrificing the lives of so many without hesitation."

"So you showed yourself to be weak, only to make yourself stronger?" The Krogan asked with wonder.

"In a way. There's a lot more to warfare than wholesale slaughter, Grunt."

"I see now why Wrex so readily allowed me to travel with you, Battlemaster. I could not learn this from a Krogan. We do not appreciate the more subtle things of morale and political alliances."

"It's good to see you're understanding these lessons, Grunt."

"Yes. Perhaps, with you as my mentor, I will one day be fit to lead my people."

"Just so long as that day's not too near. I still need you on my team for when we need to hurt something."

"Hah! Don't worry, Shepard. It's too much fun around you for me to leave just yet. I never know when something big is going to turn up for me to test myself against."

"Alright then. See you around, Grunt."

"Battlemaster." The Krogan nodded, plodding off back to his room.

Shepard smiled at the alien as he left, thinking about the young Krogan's future. He had every faith that Grunt would be a good leader, in time.

He turned to face the opposite direction and the Starboard Cargo Hold, his mood cooling as he approached. This was going to be a conversation he would not enjoy.

The doors hissed open just as a knife buzzed through the air, embedding itself in the wall beside the door. The blade quivered, having forced itself at least an inch into the metal bulkhead.

Sitting atop a pile of crates inside the Cargo Hold, Zaeed looked to the door briefly, a scornful snarl passing over his face as he caught sight of the Commander.

"Oh. It's you."

"I figured you wouldn't be too pleased to see me."

"What the hell do you expect, Shepard? I had the bastard right at the end of my gun, and you let him go. Again!"

"Killing Vido wouldn't have helped us in the slightest, Zaeed."

"What do you know about it?" The mercenary said scornfully as he threw another knife, almost striking the first one.

"If you'd killed Vido, there'd be no one left to lead the Blue Suns. We'd lose a valuable ally."

"I coulda taken over."

"How? How would you manage to stop all of Vido's lieutenants from clawing each other apart to replace him. How would you have secured the loyalty and co-operation of all those men, most of whom weren't around when you were still a part of things, almost all of whom won't have heard the name Zaeed Massani except in the context of 'shoot on sight'?"

"I-"

"And how would you have done all this while maintaining the structure of the organisation, making sure it's as powerful as it is right now?"

"I don't know. But I'd have found a way!" Zaeed answered defiantly.

"No, you wouldn't have. And that's why I let Vido go. We'll have another chance to go after him. The Reapers, we only get one shot to take them down. If we can't muster the numbers to free Earth, then it's game over. I can't have you on board if you can't get these priorities straight in your head."

"Are you cutting me loose, Shepard?" Zaeed asked incredulously. "After all I've done? After everything I've given up to help you on your crusade?"

"I'm giving you a choice." Shepard said firmly. "You can get in line, learn who the real enemy is and fight them by my side. Or you can put your own selfish revenge ahead of the safety of the Galaxy, in which case you won't be staying with us when we reach our next port of call. And then, once you've been chasing your goddamn white whale for so long you don't even notice anything else, you'll wake up one day to find the Reapers dropping down on your head. So what's it gonna be? Are you Captain Ahab, or are you Zaeed Massani?"

The mercenary's scarred face turned to look at the Commander, a fierce gleam entering the one undamaged eye. The other stared at him through a milky haze, the remnant of Vido's betrayal.

"You're a ****ing tenacious bastard, ain't ya, Commander? Alright. I play by your rules."

"Glad to hear it. You're a valuable asset to the team, Zaeed. I'd hate to lose you over something like this."

"You're lucky you've got such a smooth way of talkin' people around, otherwise I'd be gone when we hit the next starport. Remind me of one of my old Sergeants, from back when I was in the Alliance. Cantankerous old bugger, but he had a way of talking that could get even the laziest rookie up and scrubbing the deck at the crack o' dawn like nobody's business."

"What happened to him, then?"

"A couple of the recruits got fed up with him after a couple of months. Decided the old bastard needed teaching a lesson. They shaved his pet Beagle, Samson. The ol' sergeant pitched a hairy fit. Never seen anyone turn that shade of purple. Funniest **** I've ever seen!" He chuckled. "Anyway, turns out it was one strain too many for the ol' feller's heart. He keeled over an' never stood up again. Had a party in the barracks the next day. Got so pissed I don't remember the following three days. Must have staggered through the bastard's funeral somehow, but I don't remember it."

"Thanks for sharing, Zaeed. I guess I'll see you around, then."

"Count on it."

Shepard turned to the door, his heart a little lighter with that out of the way.

He was making his way to the elevator when he became aware of another presence close by. He looked down the corridor to see Legion standing by the door to Main Engineering. The Geth's face plate was unreadable as ever, but it's stance suggested something was bothering the lights and wires that formed its mind.

"Shepard-Commander." It said, a measure of surprise entering its stance. Shepard had to admire the realistic way it was managing to replicate organic mannerisms, even down to the way it's thick, clawlike fingers wove together as it spoke, a seemingly absent-minded action.

"Legion." Shepard nodded. "Its unusual not to see you armpit deep in some technical problem or another."

"Our tasks aboard the Normandy rarely rely upon insertion of our arms up to the shoulder joint."

"Figure of speech, Legion. Keep working at them. You're not far now."

"Acknowledged."

"What I meant to say was, you're almost never away from your post. Is something wrong?"

"Negative. We are currently running a full diagnostic of the fuel regulation systems. The task requires the devotion of a significant portion of our processing power. However, we felt that this was a task better suited to being completed remotely."

"Why?"

"Engineer Donnelly was encouraging a significant strain upon our systems' efficiency. His continued audio output was proving most distracting."

"So shut off your ears, or whatever you've got that listens."

"The task is not as simple as you believe. Our lack of response caused Engineer Donnelly a significant amount of concern. He believed that he was somehow responsible for 'breaking the Commander's pet Geth'. Once he retrieved his tool to attempt impromptu repairs upon this platform, it became apparent that simply ignoring Engineer Donnelly was not an option."

"Well, I won't continue to distract you then." Shepard said, barely hiding his amusement.

"We were actually anticipating being able to converse with you, Shepard-Commander."

"Yeah? What about?" Shepard asked, a little surprised. The sentient machine normally kept to itself, so the fact it was actually seeking him out to talk with him was a rare occurrence.

"Our runtimes are perplexed by your decision on the Omega-Station. Rather than successfully hinder the Old Machines' plans by deleting the Element Zero, you permitted their acquisition of the resources in exchange for the salvation of the inhabitants of the station, all of whom bear an inferior code to your own. We wish to understand the logic behind your actions."

"Its… difficult to explain in a way you'd understand, Legion. I couldn't let all those people die."

"Incorrect. We judge you were fully capable of issuing the order to destroy the station. There is nothing in your physical form to suggest this action was not possible."

"Okay, maybe I could have said the words, but that's taking things a little too literally." Shepard stuttered, realising that traversing the divide between stone-cold logic and white-hot emotion was a little more difficult than he had anticipated. "When I say I couldn't do it, I mean that mentally, emotionally, I couldn't allow them to die. If we stoop to those levels, we become no better than the Reapers."

"You believe that taking the logical course of action would have corrupted your code to be similar to those of the Reapers?" The machine sounded more perplexed than before.

"In a way, yes. I'm fighting this war for more than just Earth. I'm doing it for everyone in the Galaxy, be they Human, Turian, Krogan, Quarian or Vorcha. Hell, I'm even doing this for the Geth. You guys have as much right to exist as we do. The Reapers want to take that all away. If I start judging some lives to be more worth saving than others, then I'd become some sort of monster. My conscience wouldn't allow that."

"…We do not understand, Shepard-Commander."

"I know, Legion. But someday, you will. Keep working at it."

"Acknowledged. We shall return to our duties. However, when we are in possession of the spare processing capacity, we shall devote some of our resources to the topic. Perhaps we need to simulate a flawed perspective to analyse the data."

"Flawed perspective?"

"What organics would refer to as 'emotional'."

"You do that, Legion. We'll talk another time."

"Shepard-Commander." The Geth said in way of farewell.

Shepard smiled at the strange machine, walking past it and making his way to the elevator.

~o~0~o~

The Commander paced about in the tight confines of the elevator as it made its way up to the Command Deck, lost in thought. Although he was sure what he had done was right, he knew that Legion, Grunt, and even Etarn had a point. The Reapers would now be able to proceed with their plans much more swiftly.

The elevator chugged to a stop, opening its doors to the CIC. As the Commander stepped out, making way for a pair of servicemen heading down to the Mess, a blinking light caught his eye. He looked up to see his private terminal flashing, indicating a new message. He nodded to Kelly in passing as she jerked her head at the console before opening his inbox, tapping in his password.

A short list of messages flickered up, mostly the spam he had programmed his terminal to ignore, but one message caught his attention, from Liara. He opened it quickly.

Shepard,

I am sorry to hear things did not go as planned on Omega. That the Reapers would attack a second high-profile target does not bode well. They must be confident of the foothold they have gained in the Galaxy. Needless to say, their acquiring such a large cache of resources is troubling, but a necessary price for the rescue of all those civilians.

I have pulled some strings with the Hierarchy and the Council, and a newly discovered planet the Turians have recently colonised has been set up as a refuge for the survivors of Omega. Word has been passed along to Aria, and the civilians are being sent there as we speak. It will allow Aria to regain her composure and begin to rebuild her empire, and also encourage the organisation of her forces in anticipation of the coming battle.

You will be pleased to know that the major players in the Terminus Systems have begun to spread word of the need to unite. Smaller pirate bands are coming forward at the encouragement of their more prominent peers. I believe when the time comes that they will present a formidable force. Well done.

I also believe you have acquired a new crew member, Delexia Tanis. From what I have been able to discover, she is a capable combatant, and a skilled strategist. She also has a number of connections, both amidst the Terminus Cartels and the Hierarchy, that will prove to be useful. Look after her, Shepard.

I am currently following a promising lead in connection with an important Prothean artefact, and will get back to you when I have something more tangible to report. In the meantime, continue to build up your forces and forge alliances. Teamwork will be the key to defeating the Reapers.

Take care, Shepard.

Liara.

Shepard smiled at his old friend's words, warmed by her heartfelt concern and encouraged that she agreed with his decision.

He closed down his terminal and turned away, straightening up and stretching his shoulders out and back, pushing until he heard the faint pop as they clicked. He was about to step away from the terminal when a sudden thump was heard throughout the CIC. The deck shivered as smoke began to seep through the doors to the tech lab.

Concerned, Shepard rushed over to the doors as an alarm sounded out overhead. He could see crew scrambling to get at fire suppression gear, and he understood their urgency. A fire in an enclosed atmosphere like a starship could be lethal if not contained immediately.

He keyed open the doors, only to have a wave of foul-smelling fumes wash over him from within the lab. He coughed and spluttered as he shielded his eyes as best he could before pressing onwards into the foul cloud.

The first thing he was aware of was the lack of heat from within the lab. Whatever the fumes were, they were chemical in origin. He relaxed a little, but not much. A toxic chemical in the vents could be just as dangerous as an unchecked fire.

"Mordin?" He coughed. "Mordin! You in here?"

The Commander saw the squirming form of an insensible shape on the floor next to the workbench. As he knelt down next to the unconscious Salarian, he heard a whirring sound overhead and the air began to clear instantly.

"Siphoning contaminated air into containment cell C." EDI intoned flatly over the comms. "Restoring oxygen balance with auxiliary reserves."

In seconds, the air in the Tech Lab was clear again. Shepard turned to Mordin. The Doctor's eyes fluttered slowly before snapping open, and he looked about in a daze. The wide orbs turned to focus on Shepard. Suddenly, the alien almost jumped to his feet, only to be restrained by the Commander.

"Hey! Take it easy, Mordin. Tell me what happened."

"Samples! Must ensure integrity of the samples."

"Samples? What samples, Mordin? What the hell were you doing in here?"

The Salarian forced the Commander out of the way, standing up and striding over to his work bench.

"Was working on way to counter Reaper indoctrination when latest test self-destructed."

"Wait a minute… are you saying you've got samples of Reaper tech?"

"Yes. Only small samples, though. Nothing that presents a risk to Normandy's crew."

"How did you get them?"

"In truth, have you to thank for not cleaning your armour often enough. Was able to retrieve small scraps of Husk tissue from your armour. Found half a finger in sole of your boot, although most of that was used up in preliminary tests."

"What?" Shepard asked a little incredulously. "You scrubbed down my armour for… minced Husk?"

"Of course. Normal circumstances during mission do not allow time for collection of proper samples, so have to make do with what I can get."

"Well then… what have you found out so far?" Shepard asked, feeling slightly awkward about the whole situation.

"Reaper method of repurposing organic tissue is fascinating, to say the least. Won't bore you with details, but end result is much more efficient than we had once thought. However, wasn't intent on discovering nature of repurposing. Instead, wanted to focus on more effective way of damaging Husks. Have no doubts we will encounter a great many Husks when trying to take back Earth. Want to be prepared."

"I'm surprised no one's tried to study the Husks up close before now."

"Many have tried, but few have had the prudence to take sufficient measures to avoid indoctrination. Always study complete specimens, never small samples. Such a pity. Many keen minds lost, either to reawakening test subjects or to reaper indoctrination."

"So what luck have you had?"

"Do not rely on luck, Shepard. Have always found my intellect to be sufficient for any task." The Salarian smiled broadly. "Have had some success in chemical-based attack. Found that a mixture of Sulphur and Trichiolate severs bonds between Reaper nanotech."

"That's good, right?"

"Mostly." The alien said noncommittally. "Ensuing reaction causes small explosion and noxious fumes, same ones you encountered on your way in here. Prolonged exposure would be damaging to organics. While all Husks and larger creatures would be destroyed eventually, the one operating the device or weapon would be killed as well."

"So not exactly something I can use on every Husk we meet."

"No. To be used as last resort, nothing else." Mordin looked a little nonplussed with his findings. "Secondary problem; Trichiolate is exceptionally rare, expensive substance. Created in lab environment using materials only found on Mannovai, a few Turian colony worlds and one Batarian planet. Has shorter half-life than is desirable for stockpiling a weapon to be used on Reapers."

"So we'd have to get this stuff made up especially every time we wanted to use it?"

"Yes. And only a few labs in existence that could create the substance."

"Wait a minute… if it's so hard to get a hold of it, how'd you find some?"

"Had contact on Omega. Collected package once we docked with station. Unfortunately, contact is now lost among Omega's refugees, will have to find alternate source."

"How'd you even pay for it? From the way you talk about it, it sounds like you could by a shuttle for what every ounce costs."

"Still have access codes to some old STG funding accounts. Good for when I needed to requisition any equipment Cerberus was unwilling to pay for."

"Alright. I guess it's not going to be something we can use all that often, but I guess it'll be handy to have when we're expecting to have to deal with a bunch of Husks. Good work, Mordin."

"Happy to help, Shepard."

"Anyway, I'd best be going now. You've obviously got everything under control here."

"Will be here if you need anything." Mordin offered helpfully before turning back to his research.

Shepard smiled as he turned to leave, striding out of the Tech Labs. He made his way back up to his cabin, where he settled down in front of his desk to catch up on some of the work that had been piling up. By the time he surfaced from his work, the lights of the Normandy had dimmed to their night cycle. He yawned as he strode over to the bed, slipping into a deep sleep as the Normandy continued on her course towards the Citadel.

Modifié par fainmaca, 04 mai 2011 - 01:03 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 25: Stealing More Than A Memory

The shuttle shuddered to a halt, hatch opening quietly to allow the Commander to hop out. He paused for a second to take in the view before him.

The shuttle landing area of the Citadel stretched out before him, filled with the buzz and hum of myriad small vehicles going about their business. Beyond, the glowing purple hues of the Serpent Nebula bathed the outer reaches of the station in an indigo light. A wide scatter of tiny dark spots against the backdrop of the Nebula indicated the presence of multitudes of ships, waiting at a set distance from the massive station. Only the smaller personal craft were allowed to enter the station's immediate surroundings, the perimeter secured by countless ships provided by the fleets at the Council's disposal. Since the threat of the Reapers had been realised, security had been elevated, and the only ships allowed within the Citadel's defensive perimeter were those of the Council itself. Although Shepard's Spectre status granted him the ability to barge past this crude barrier, he had deigned it wiser to conform, realising that insisting the Normandy be allowed to dock would only draw attention to his presence. Given his notoriety among the media community, he preferred to avoid having to fend off hordes of news-hungry reporters.

Garrus and Delexia followed him out of the shuttle. Given the low-key nature of their visit to the gargantuan station, Shepard had decided the two Turian operatives would be enough. Almost all of Shepard's squad were out-of-the-ordinary, and likely to draw attention to him, but two more Turians on the station would barely register in the minds of most, and Garrus' history with C-Sec made him a natural choice for navigating the Citadel's bureaucracy. The Commander was curious to see Delexia in action, even though she had already demonstrated her tech skills on Omega.

The squad's loadout was minimal, the Commander ruling that subtlety was key here. Shepard only sported a pistol and his assault rifle, while Delexia bore a compact shotgun strapped to the small of her back while an SMG was holstered on her hip. Garrus carried his iconic sniper rifle and a pistol.

The Commander turned away from the view out of the station, trying to quiet his discomfort at having his ship and his crew so far away. This was the Citadel, the heart of galactic civilisation. He would not need to worry about an overwhelming enemy attack here. But then his thoughts scurried back to the loss of Earth, the attack on Omega, even the Battle of the Citadel three long years ago. Nowhere was safe from the Reapers.

Shaking these gloomy thoughts, Shepard strode over to the nearby desk, where a Human clerk was locked in a one-sided debate with a Turian.

"This is an outrage!" The Turian fumed.

"Sir, please calm down. All I am asking is that you allow your luggage to be scanned for security purposes."

"This is an invasion of my privacy! I will not tolerate it." The alien spat. "You let that last Human through without a scan."

"She didn't have any luggage to check." The Human explained, the patience in her voice belying the frustration she felt.

"You Humans are all racist!"

Shepard waited until the Turian strode off in an enraged mood and stepped forwards. The clerk behind the desk looked at him and then at the two Turians following, noting the weapons they carried. She sighed, knowing she was in for a rough day.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'll have to ask you to check in your weapons. We'll hold them in a secure locker for the duration of your visit and return them to you upon your departure from the station."

"Why?" Shepard asked curiously. "I've never had to hand them in before."

"Its standard procedure now. What with the situation in the Sol system, security has been tightened." She pulled out a stack of documentation at least half a foot thick. "Just fill in these forms, plus a copy for yourselves, and hand the guns over to Lieutenant Cribbs in the next room."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sorry." Shepard said.

"Then we can't let you go any further."

"Just talk to your superiors, I'm sure they'll tell you that I can go where I like."

"And who should I ask to speak to?" The clerk asked defiantly.

"Captain Bailey."

"Armando Bailey? He hasn't been a Captain for going on a year now. Got promoted to Executor a while back. Some mess with the previous Executor that he cleared up won him the job." Her defiance seemed a little more unsure. "Who should I tell him you are?"

"Just tell him that the man who gave him a reference for Kolyat is here." Shepard disliked having to be so cryptic, but knew it was the only way to get into the station without having his presence announced in big neon letters visible from Dark Space.

The clerk huffed grumpily before dialling up her omnitool to make the call. She turned her back on the squad for a moment, speaking quietly. After a few seconds, she straightened up, back going rigid with surprise.

"Y-yes sir…. Right away." She turned back. "Executor wants to see you right away. His office is on the Presidium, not far from the Ambassadorial offices."

"Thank you." Shepard nodded graciously, the trace of a smirk on his lips.

"Always fun to see one of those stick-up-their-ass traffic officers get what's coming to them." Garrus murmured.

"And this coming from The Garrus Vakarian, Turian on the cover of killjoy monthly?" Delexia teased.

"I only stick to the rules when it suits me." Garrus replied smoothly. "Most of the time they're just cumbersome and keep officers from doing their jobs."

"Let's keep moving." Shepard insisted.

The party made their way to the nearest transport depot, from which they got a cab to the Presidium, the ring at the heart of the station.

Shepard stepped out of the cab into the clean, fresh air of the Presidium. Water tinkled down a rocky slope nearby, a large water feature in the middle of a vast park that covered the middle ground of the ring that housed the political centre of the Citadel. To either side, the walls of the Presidium housed a multitude of offices, ambassadorial suites and administrative complexes. Not far along the curve of the ring, the massive tower where the Council gathered loomed high and foreboding over the lush green parkland. The Commander paused to inhale deeply from the fragrant air.

"So this is the legendary Presidium." Delexia said, walking slowly over to the nearest pool of water and kneeling down to trail her talons in the water. "Never figured I'd ever get to see what it looked like, unless I was in custody and on the way to a trial."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Garrus asked. "You'll never see a symbol of all that's wrong with the Council as this. Rampant luxury for the people on top, but if you just travel a short distance onto one of the connecting Wards, you'll see just as much poverty and crime as you could on Omega."

"Well ain't you a cheery one?" The Female Turian shot back. "Just shut up and enjoy the view."

"They rebuilt everything so fast." Shepard said admiringly. "Its amazing how little sign there is of Sovereign's attack."

"They got to work on the Presidium pretty quick after the attack." Garrus said reproachfully. "Almost unlimited funds were put in to get it to an inhabitable state again."

"Even so, it's still impressive. I mean, last time we were here, they were still rebuilding the Tower." Shepard replied. "Now that's been fixed up pretty nice."

"There is something the attack left behind." Delexia said, a smirk on her face. The Commander looked in the direction of her nod and groaned at the sight.

Towering over the path, almost nine feet in height, a statue had been erected in the middle of a small plaza amidst the trees. A Turian, the late ex-Spectre Saren, lay at the feet of the focus of the statue, hands held up defensively as the armoured Human standing over him levelled a gun at his head. The Human had a helmet on, obscuring his features, but the iconic stripe on his right shoulder, along with the N7 chiselled into the upper left segment of the torso, made the figure easily identifiable.

"When the hell did this happen?" Shepard asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

"About two months after you died." Garrus explained. "Council made a big hoo-hah about honouring the saviour of the Citadel. Took them a whole month to erect the thing."

"It's ridiculous! What about all the people who died to protect the Destiny Ascension? What about the team that helped me?"

"Well I got an 'I saved the Citadel' T-shirt. I think Tali and Wrex got a cheap metal trophy each, and as far as I know Liara got some coupons for a free scalp colouring." Garrus quipped. "Kaidan had a pretty nice medal, but I think that disappeared after the Collectors took out the first Normandy. Always the same when you move house, stuff goes missing."

"It's not right that I get all the glory. All I did was finish Saren off, and that was after he shot himself!"

"Face it, Shepard, the people love a hero. Someone to adore when things go right." Delexia said, placing an arm around the Commander's shoulder. "And, let's be honest, someone to blame when it all goes to hell."

"I could do without it being me." Shepard said irritably. "Come on, let's go find Bailey."

The trio made their way through the peaceful parkland towards the nearest set of offices. An elevator took them down several levels, until they found themselves in the heart of a bustling complex, corridors radiating away in all directions. Almost every individual present wore the uniforms of Citadel Security, the local peacekeeping force. The only ones not in uniform were generally being escorted by a pair of officers, almost always wearing restraints.

Shepard was familiar with the layout of the C-Sec building, and soon found his way towards the Executor's office, down one of the long, winding corridors. The squad rounded a corner to see Armando Bailey come into view, sat behind a desk while he harried several of his subordinates over a comm channel.

"I don't give a crap how much junk that Volus has to move, if the Keepers want to block off a passageway, they're going to block it off, and its an offence to interfere with their operation. Either he puts away the stun gun or you haul him in here so quick he bounces! And tell Churk that if he breaks the arms of another civilian I'm gonna break his, Krogan or not."

The seasoned C-sec officer looked over his console to see the Commander and his team enter. His wrinkled features split into a grin. He quickly dismissed his subordinates, severing the comm channel before they could voice any objection, and rose to his feet, circling the desk to stride over and shake Shepard's hand.

"Commander! Good to see you again."

"Captain, or rather, Executor Bailey. Congratulations."

"Ehh… I'm not so sure it's a blessing. I was happier when I was out in the Wards. At least there I could let my fists do the talkin' and not cause a media frenzy. I can't believe I miss having to deal with sand-crazy Krogan." He chuckled.

"Desk job not working out for you?" Shepard asked.

"Too much goddamn paperwork. I'm actually hoping my guys don't catch anyone, 'cause then it saves me a week's worth of dealing with the penpushers up top." He scowled a little, but then brightened. "At least the Drell's working out okay. Glad I let you convince me to go easy on him."

"How is Kolyat doing?"

"Got him on the beat for the most part. He's a good cop. The whole Drell 'perfect memory' thing really helps out when he's checking out a crime scene. Doesn't miss anything. Helped bust up a weapons smuggling ring a couple of months ago."

"The Council are letting non-Council races into C-Sec?" Garrus asked.

"Yeah. We're spread too thin to worry about whether a new recruit was born on the right planet or not. We're still thorough in our background checks, but we're casting the net for new officers a little wider than before. Besides, the Drell's had a Spectre vouch for him. Can't exactly argue with that, can I?" Bailey chuckled. "Besides, he doesn't stand out so much anymore. We've got Drell, Elcor, Hanar, and even a couple of Krogan on the force. Only ones we keep out are those damned Batarians and the Vorcha. Not that they're exactly queuing up to sign up."

"Sounds like big changes happening, then." Shepard commented. "Though I've got to say, a Hanar C-Sec officer is pretty hard to imagine."

"You'd think so, but it turns out that they make really good customs agents. They're good at sniffing out Sand, and it doesn't affect them as bad as other species. And I won't even start on the cavity searches."

Shepard shuddered at the thought that sprang unbidden into his head, a little repulsed by the idea. Bailey chuckled at his squeamishness.

"Anyway, I very much doubt you're hear to listen to me talk about the finer points of a customs cavity search, so why don't you tell me why you've come all this way to see me?"

"We're looking into a smuggling operation based on the station. Inutech Industries."

"Oh yeah. Them." Bailey's tone was foreboding. "We've been onto them for some time now. Got nothing that'll hold up in court, but a couple of my officers have been working on the case for a while now. What's your interest in a two-bit operation like that?"

"Word is they've been dealing in Prothean artefacts recently."

"Yeah, but only small-time stuff. Maybe worth something to hardcore collectors, but no practical worth. It's not like they're smuggling a bunch of Prothean rifles or something. How'd they manage to draw the attention of a Spectre?"

"My sources tell me that their latest shipments have been considerably more valuable than broken cups and dusty trinkets."

"Really?" Bailey asked, not impressed. "And who gave you this information? You on first-name terms with the Shadow Broker or something?"

"As it happens, yes."

"Oh. Really?" The grizzled policeman seemed taken aback by the Commander's casual attitude. "Well did the Broker have anything else to say about their operation?"

"Not much. They're supposed to be moving a large shipment soon, and I intend to intercept it."

"I see. Then you'll want to talk to Officer Yalana. She's the one who's been in charge of our investigation into Inutech. If anyone has info that you'll find useful, it's her. You'll find her in the customs offices on Tayseri Ward."

"Much appreciated, Bailey." Shepard thanked, extending a hand, which the older man took in a firm grip.

"Anytime, Shepard. Just... try to keep the chaos to a minimum. I could do without an incident involving a Spectre in one of my precincts hitting the Extranet."

"With luck, we'll avoid any confrontation at all." Shepard replied.

"Come on, Shepard! I know you better than that. Last time, you came here looking for your friend's kid, and the next thing I know you're involved in a shoot-out and assassination attempt on one of the Citadel's most prominent politicians. And I won't even start on the Factory District."

"I'll see you around, Bailey."

"Shepard." Bailey nodded, turning back to his desk.

The squad left the C-Sec headquarters, making their way to the nearest transport landing area, from where the Commander signalled a cab to take them out to Tayseri Ward. As the skycar shuddered up into the airspace above the Presidium, Garrus leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"So what's the plan, Commander?" He asked.

"Our top priority is to secure the artefact. We've got to find out where Inutech's keeping it, how they're going to move it, and where it's going. After that, we've got to find out where they're getting this stuff from."

"We could do both of those if we get into their offices, access their databases." Delexia offered.

"And I want to do that without drawing attention to ourselves. If we let them know we're coming, they'll have a chance to get rid of the data we're after. They've already shown that they're good at hiding their activities from C-Sec."

"So a covert operation." Garrus said, his tone indicating a level of excitement at the prospect.

"Yes. We get in, find out what we need to know, and get out. Afterwards, we can work on retrieving the artefact and then making contact with Kasumi."

"Why not just try to find her now?" Garrus asked.

"We won't be able to find Kasumi until she chooses to show herself. She's too good at remaining out of sight. But we know she's been following Inutech, so it's safe to assume she knows about this latest shipment. We can't risk exposing her by going looking for her, but if we try to track down this latest cargo she'll know we're here soon enough."

"Let her come to us?" Delexia inquired.

"Exactly."

"Alright then, let's go find this Officer Yalana." Garrus said, his excitement growing.

~o~0~o~

The customs office in Tayseri Ward was filled with activity. C-Sec officers hurried about, the chatter of many conversations being carried out at once filling the air. As the Commander arrived, a load-lifter entered the offices, escorted by a squad of heavily armed officers. The crowd of officers parted to allow it to pass, and Shepard could see a large crate held in the lifter's clutches. One officer, a tall, imposing woman with a strict posture and sturdy build strode forward, her bronze features scanning the latest arrivals. She immediately began to shout instructions, waving her arms in a series of commanding gestures.

Shepard approached the commanding figure, waiting patiently while she ordered her subordinates about with considerable authority.

"Get that down to Evidence, and get some samples over to the Labs! I want this dealt with by the end of this shift." She paused, turning to see the squad approaching. She sighed irritably.

"Yes? What do you need?"

"Are you Officer Yalana?" Shepard asked.

"Depends." Came the gruff reply.

"On what?"

"On which answer will cost me the most time. I'm too busy right now."

"What's going on here?"

"We just seized a massive shipment of narcotics from one of Sinunovo Medical Research's cargo ships. We've been trying to nail them for drug smuggling for ages, and now we've got a chance to shut them down." The woman sighed, rubbing a hand across her brow. "So I really don't have time to stand here engaging in small-talk with you. Tell me what you need from me, then get out of my way."

"I wanted to talk to you about Inutech Industries."

Yalana paused for an instant, eyes narrowing. She then turned to one of her subordinates.

"Callen!"

A Salarian strode up.

"Ma'am?"

"I need you to oversee the Sinunovo case. Make sure that shipment gets to Evidence."

"Are you sure, Ma'am? I thought you were dealing with that case perso-"

"That's an order, Callen. Something important has come up."

"Yes, Ma'am." The Salarian acquiesced meekly. He turned to the load-lifter, heading off to follow his superior's orders. Yalana turned back to the Commander.

"Come on, we'll talk in my office."

The C-Sec officer led the squad to a small room near the back of the Customs offices. The door hissed open to reveal a small office, filled by a desk and a handful of chairs. Yalana sat behind the desk, indicating that the Commander and the two Turians should be seated opposite her. She took a moment to organise some files on the console set into her desk before turning a sharp gaze upon Shepard.

"I want you to know that I was going to send Bailey my updated report. I just wanted to make sure we had all the facts before moving forward. I didn't want to risk a security leak compromising the investigation." She thumped a clenched fist into the desk. "We're too close to bringing these people down. I can't get slowed down by having to report in my every move to those pencil-necked bureaucrats on the Presidium."

"Understandable, but I'm not here because you haven't reported in with your superiors."

"Oh. I thought-" Yalana seemed to have been caught off-balance. "I thought Bailey sent you here to find out why I hadn't kept him in the loop."

"Bailey told us you might be able to help. We've heard that Inutech's going to be moving a cargo that we want to take a look at."

"You're looking for the Prothean artefact?" The C-Sec officer asked.

"So you know what they've been moving."

"I've been investigating their smuggling operation for some months now." Yalana said, leaning back in her chair. "I've had plenty of time to get to know about Inutech Industries."

"Care to share what you know?" Shepard asked.

"Inutech Industries. A Salarian technology firm. Or so they tell the public. In actual fact, the company is a front for a smuggling operation. They've been trading in Prothean trinkets for some time, but recently they've moved on to much larger items. I've been trying to find out where they're getting these relics, but have had no success."

"So what do you know?"

"That they operate out of a warehouse not far from here, in Tayseri's docks district. And that they've got spies in C-Sec."

"I worked with C-Sec too long to assume that it's incorruptible, but why do you think that?" Garrus asked.

"We've raided their warehouses several times, and turned up nothing. The next day, I find out that a whole lot of cargo transports arrived just before we were due to move in, and they return after we've gone. The only explanation is that they get warning of our operation, move their goods before we catch them with it, and then put it back after we've gone. To have that amount of warning, they've got to have someone on the inside here."

"Not the first time I've heard of a C-Sec officer going rogue." Shepard murmured, thinking of Harkin.

"I've tried to single out the mole, but they're too good at remaining undetected." Yalana continued. "So in an attempt to find out who they were, I decided to fight fire with fire. I sent one of my most trusted agents to infiltrate Inutech, try and find out who the mole was."

"How do you know he was trustworthy?" Shepard asked cautiously.

"I've known Allyn for over twenty years. We went through training together. I trust him more than I trust my brother." Yalana said firmly.

"So what did he find out?"

"Precious little. He confirmed that the firm was smuggling Prothean artefacts of considerable value, and that they were in contact with someone within C-Sec, but he wasn't able to find out the identity of the mole."

"Can we speak to him? Maybe he's got some useful intel to share with us." Shepard asked.

"I wish you could, but he disappeared a couple of days ago. He was meant to report in once a day, but I haven't heard from him."

"Maybe he hasn't had the opportunity to report in." Delexia suggested.

"Normally, I'd want to agree with you, but not this time." Yalana explained. "The day before he vanished, my terminal was hacked. I don't know what files were accessed, but it seems a safe bet that the mole found out about Allyn and he's being held by the smugglers."

"How'd they manage to hack your terminal?" Garrus asked with a measure of wonder. "C-Sec uses top-of-the-line security measures. It'd be about as hard as breaking into the Citadel Tower."

"Not so difficult if the intruder has level three security clearance or higher." Yalana explained. "They'd still need to get past my personal security, but that wouldn't be nearly as hard."

"Surely that narrows the list of potential suspects a lot?" Shepard asked.

"It does, but there's still a lot of names on that list." Yalana sighed. "Anyone higher on the chain of command than a captain would have that access."

"As we're not C-Sec, we'll have a better chance of getting the drop on the smugglers." Shepard offered. "If you can give us some information about their base, we can get in there and deal with them."

"Unfortunately, I can't let you do that. As much as I hate to admit it, there are rules and regulations I have to follow. If I let you go in there without following proper procedure, then we jeopardise any trial we could hope to hold against Inutech. I won't let these bastards get away because we had no patience."

"One thing you need to understand about the Commander is that he's not too big on procedure." Garrus said casually.

"I don't think a Spectre has to worry about procedure." Shepard said, folding his arms across his chest.

"I thought I recognised you." Yalana said with surprise. "You're Shepard, right?"

"The same."

"Then that makes things a lot easier. A Spectre can operate without the same limitations as one of my squads."

"So you'll help?"

"Certainly." Yalana activated her console, drawing up what looked to be the blueprints of a large building complex. Shepard could see several warehouses to one side, along with what looked like a private shuttle bay and a series of offices. "These are the official blueprints to their base of operations, updated according to Allyn's reports."

"Any suggestions on how to get inside?"

"Depends. How do you want to do this? All guns blazing or the sensible way?"

"Commander, while I realise its traditional for us to go in like a bunch of Krogan on Red Sand, maybe this operation calls for subtlety." Garrus suggested.

"You're right, Garrus. We can't risk spooking the smugglers and letting them hide the artefact." Shepard turned back to the C-Sec officer. "We need to do this quietly."

"If that's the case, then I recommend you send someone in via the ventilation system. The other two can wait here," She pointed to a door on one side of the map, a small door in a narrow alleyway. "Until the infiltrator can get there to open the door. Then it's just a short distance to their storage rooms, where you should find the artefact. If you do it right, then you'll get to the relic without alerting the smugglers to your presence."

"I can go in through the vents." Shepard said confidently.

"If you're going to use the vents, you'll have to go through the slums." Yalana said, her tone foreboding.

"There's no other way?" Garrus asked, clearly concerned.

"What's so bad about the slums?" Shepard asked, confused.

"The slums are the districts just underneath the Citadel's outer pressure hull." The Turian explained. "It's where the Keepers have their protein vats. There's so much machinery down there that the air's thick with pollution. Even breathers don't work. That's why you'll only see the cast-offs of society down there. C-Sec has almost no presence in the slums."

"I've heard Omega's got nothing on some parts of the slums." Delexia commented.

"Not far from the truth." Yalana said. "It's a lawless part of the station, make no mistake. If you end up living down there, you've really hit rock bottom. The residents will think nothing of cutting your throat for just a few credits."

"And this is the only way to get into Inutech's base?" Shepard asked.

"I'm afraid so. That's where the pumping station for the docks district is. It's the only place you could get into the vents system without triggering a whole bunch of alarms." Yalana answered. "If you watch your back, look tough, and don't let anyone stop you, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Then I guess it'll have to do. Anything else?"

"Just one thing. Here's my comm frequency. If you get into trouble, I can have my best officers down to the docks in five minutes, tops. I don't want to know what sort of paperwork I have to file for a dead Spectre in my precinct, so you call me if the slightest thing goes wrong."

"Got it."

"Good luck."

~o~0~o~

The cab shuddered through the narrowing streets of Tayseri Ward, working its way down into the lower levels, beneath the sprawling skyline the Commander was used to seeing. It seemed odd to him to see this new side to the Citadel, the layers beneath the veneer of luxury the rest of the Galaxy saw. Of course, the Ward arms were a lot thicker than just the thin sheet of buildings many associated with the Wards, and, like anywhere else, life had found a way to seep down into the bowels of the station. The deeper the skycar travelled, the more dilapidated the appearance of the nearby buildings.

"Kinda makes you think of a gold-plated Varren turd, huh?" Delexia remarked, looking out as they passed through the trash-strewn streets that would have looked less out-of-place on Omega. "All shiny on the surface, but it still stinks underneath."

"Happens anywhere." Garrus commented. "Where you get the super-rich, there's always the ultra-poor scraping a living under their feet."

"You sure you want to do this, Commander?" Delexia asked uncertainly.

"I'll be fine. I've been to worse corners of the Galaxy." Shepard said confidently.

"At least let us come with you."

"There isn't room in the vents for more than one person." Shepard explained. "Just make sure you're waiting at the back of the warehouse by the time I open that door."

"Alright." Garrus said reluctantly. "Just watch your back, okay?"

"Hey, it's me!" Shepard grinned. "Careful's my middle name, remember?"

"Really? How about you try to live up to it for once then?"

"See you on the other side, Garrus." Shepard opened the skycar door as it touched down lightly on the street. He clambered out and sealed the vehicle behind him, giving Garrus a final salute as the Turian, still shaking his head, brought the cab around, taking it back the way they had come from.

As the skycar hummed away, Shepard turned to look down the street ahead. The deck-plates underfoot were covered in grime, the accumulated filth of hundreds if not thousands of years of habitation and with no-one bothering to clean up. The stench assaulted the Commander's senses immediately, the air thick with the scent of a vast multitude of people crammed into a small area combined with the heady smog of the gargantuan machines that kept the rest of the station habitable.

The thing that struck the Commander was the emptiness of the streets. From what he had been told, he had assumed that the slums would be packed to their limit with the destitute, the homeless and the downcast. As he looked about, he saw no sign of life, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. A shuffle from an alley to one side drew his gaze, only for a flash of movement from the opposite side of the street to appear in the corner of his eye. He shivered at the eerie silence, shrugging his shoulders and moving on.

Shepard made cautious progress down the street, wary eyes darting from alleyway to alleyway. As he moved off down the street, the dull churning of some mammoth motor thrummed through the metal beneath his feet, the song of the nearby pumping station, responsible for keeping the atmosphere of the docks district in motion, allowing fresh oxygen to gush into the inhabited regions while the carbon dioxide was removed to be converted back into breathable air.

He moved around one corner to find himself confronted by a line of dishevelled looking individuals. Grime caked their features, making it almost impossible to make out their features and, in some cases, their species. The foremost of these, who turned out to be a woman under the layers of filthy clothing and smeared dirt, stepped forward, calling out in a greasy, cracked voice.

"You don't belong here. Outsiders have got to pay the toll."

"A toll? You've got to be kidding me." Shepard leaned back on his heel, arms folded in front of him, as he heard a rustle to one side and behind him.

"No joke. Pay up, Outsider, or we gut you like a Varren pup."

"I don't have time for this." Shepard grunted as he dropped into a crouch, spinning around and lashing a booted foot out to catch the man trying to sneak up on him across the kneecaps. There was a brittle snap and the man fell on his face with a whimper of pain, the agony strangling his screams. A wicked-looking knife clattered to the ground, rusty blade still polished enough to glint in the poor light.

The rest of the street gang had no time to act before the Commander swivelled back around, standing up lightly. There was a click as his pistol unfolded, muzzle extending into a combat-ready position. The fully armed and loaded weapon was levelled directly at the gang leader's head, her eyes blinking in shock at the swift turn of events.

"I just want to pass through. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you give me no choice."

The gang leader's eyes shone with more than a little fear at the Commander's actions, and Shepard saw the grimy face visibly nod as she swallowed.

"You get a free pass… this time. We see you here again, we won't give you a chance to hurt us."

"That's all I ask for." Shepard said, lowering his pistol, although he didn't put it away. He activated his omnitool, dispensing an application of medi-gel in the form of a soft capsule, which he dropped by the whimpering man on the ground. "Put that on the leg. You won't run again, but you'll be able to walk." He said pitilessly.

He strode past the gang, who pulled back out of his way respectfully, their eyes never leaving him as he walked on by. Shepard felt his pulse slow as he moved around the next corner. He knew that, had he not been such a smooth talker, things could have gone very badly there, and he silently thanked Anderson for teaching him the proper way to speak to a crowd, how to nudge their motives with words.

Finally, he found himself before a large, blocky building that stood out amidst the myriad structures around, purely because of its sheer size. Pipes wide enough for the Kodiak to fly down extended from its roof towards the upper levels, vast highways for the cleaned air to travel up. Chimneys belched out putrid fumes amidst these pipes, the by-products of the Citadel's respiratory system. The gargantuan thing before the Commander was literally one of the station's lungs.

He found a small door in the side of the structure and pushed it open, relaxing when it became apparent that security here was at a minimum. He stepped inside and looked around for the pipes he needed to infiltrate the docks.

At last he found what he was looking for, a massive, churning machine that powered vast quantities of air up to the docks district. He checked the machine's readouts to confirm the areas it serviced, and moved towards the hatch built into the broad pipe. He used all of his strength to pry the hatch off, shivering as a powerful gust of air blasted over him. The rushing air whistled through the open hatch, filling the building with a mournful howl. The Commander hurried inside, hauling the hatch shut after himself. He didn't want anyone stumbling across his point of entry before his mission was complete.

The pipe was spacious, smooth and frigid with the air powering through it like a gale. The whipping wind deafened the Commander, to the point that he ended up pulling on his helmet to shut out some of the noise. This done, he began to trudge along the pipe.

The Commander made smooth progress along the pipe system, consulting his omnitool frequently to ensure he was on the correct course.

After about fifteen minutes, he came across a grate barring his path. Confused, the Commander consulted his map, unable to see any sign of the obstruction on it. For a moment, he fretted that he may have gone the wrong way, but on retracing his steps on the map he confirmed that this was the correct way. He opened a comm channel.

"Garrus, this is Shepard. There's something in the way, I can't see a way through."

The only answer Shepard received was a burst of static. Clearly the pipe's walls were too thick for a signal to get out.

"Damn it."

The Commander turned back to the grate, looking for some way to move it. He saw around its edges that the grate could retract, so he waved his omnitool over it, looking for a control mechanism. The device beeped, informing him of wires leading away from the grate, back the way he had come.

He followed the wiring, making his way down a separate branch of the network. After a moment's search, he found the control panel. He tapped out a few commands, hastily bypassing the machinery's security, and was rewarded with the echoing rasp of the grate retracting.

As he stepped back into the main pipeline, the roar of the wind suddenly changed pitch. The air began to rush past with increased power, doing its best to knock the Commander over. As he proceeded back to where the grate had been, his suit's HUD informed him that the air inside the tube was getting warmer.

He instantly realised what was happening. As the Citadel was in the depths of space, it needed to generate a lot of heat to keep its inhabitants from freezing. In opening the grate, the Commander had inadvertently triggered a phase of hotter air in the pipes. While the overall effect to the station's atmosphere would be minimal, the pipes were now bound to get unbearably hot. While his suit was designed to cope with most atmospheric hazards, it wouldn't keep that much heat at bay. He had to hurry, or risk being baked inside his own skin. Shepard began to run.

The air began to shimmer around him, a heat haze filling his vision. His feet pounded the pipe, the echo bouncing around his head intolerably loud.

He raced around one bend in the pipe to see another grate before him, obstinately immovable.

"Not now!" He cursed, feverishly working his omnitool to look for the controls again. He hurried back down the pipes, through the ever-increasing heat. A few twisting pipes later, and he was stood before another console. He swiftly typed out the commands, ears earnestly seeking out the rewarding sound of the grate moving. After an excruciating moment his heart leapt to hear the noise he so desired and, not even bothering to power down the console, he ran straight back to the main pipe.

His HUD began to beep quietly, an insistent warning that his suit's temperature was fast approaching the limits of his body's tolerance. Sweat poured down his back, a greasy, slippery feeling that did little to help his concentration. He blinked as salty droplets found their way into his eyes, shaking his head as the intense heat slowed his thinking.

Once more he found himself before a grate, almost yelling in frustration at it.

"Come on! How many more of these things can there be?"

He pounded back down the pipeline, finding the console in record time. The air around him was almost glowing with heat at this point, the metal segments of his armour threatening to burn him where they touched skin. He swore he could feel the cybernetics Miranda had worked so hard to install in him sizzle in their sockets, the flesh searing around them.

He frantically tapped away at the console, desperate to open the next grate. He almost screamed in anger when his first attempt failed, forcing himself to calm down. He took a deep breath, the burning hot air searing the inside of his throat and inciting more panic. He slowed himself down, carefully inputting the commands necessary. He struggled not to roar with jubilation as the sound of the grate opening reached his ears.

He dashed around the final few corners, heart pumping with anticipation as he finally caught sight of his goal, a small hatch on the side of the pipe. He rushed over to it, throwing his shoulder against it. He thumped into the hatch once, twice and a third time before it finally gave, allowing him to tumble out of the pipe in a flurry of limbs and a gust of scorching wind. He struggled to close the hatch on the roasting gale, finally slamming it in place, and turned to look at the room he was in, slumping to the floor in an exhausted pile.

Modifié par fainmaca, 04 mai 2011 - 01:04 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 25: Part 2!

The room he now occupied was a maintenance room, filled with rumbling machinery. Water filtration devices and air scrubbers stood against one wall, along with the bend of piping that hosted the hatch Shepard had just tumbled through. The centre of the room was home to several power generators, obviously a precaution against the Citadel ever going dark, an unheard of occurrence.

The Commander sat on the floor for a good couple of minutes, slipping off his helmet to drink in the cooler air. Although his suit told him that the room was actually quite warm, to him it felt as refreshing as a winter's breeze. He waited until his pulse slowed, his breathing becoming easier, before standing again. He was amazed by just how much the intense heat had taken out of him. Wincing at his scratchy, dry throat, he activated his omnitool, dispensing some medi-gel, which he swallowed. The thick goo coated his throat, instantly soothing the irritation. Although it did little to ease the sudden thirst, and his Academy instructors would have berated him for using up valuable medical supplies, he reasoned that distractions would be detrimental to the mission, and that he came across medkits so frequently that he could spare the gel. He wondered at that. Sometimes, it seemed as if the medi-gel was there just for him. He shook his head, choosing not to dwell on the matter.

The Commander strode up to the door to the maintenance room, easing it open with one hand while the other reached for his pistol. The corridor beyond was empty, a starkly lit passageway. He stepped out cautiously, looking left and right to see if there were any security cams to worry about.

He made his way down the length of a corridor, approaching a junction with cautious footsteps. He peered around the corner, darting back into cover as a pair of guards came into view. The two Salarians were talking amongst themselves, standing watch over a seemingly unimportant door. Shepard weighed up his choices, realising that he could not go any further this way without revealing his presence. Reluctantly, he retreated.

He headed down the corridor in the opposite direction, pulling up the schematics Yalana had provided him with. He looked for alternative routes, seeking a way past the guards without being seen. He chose another series of corridors, making his way along the new route as stealthily as he could.

As Shepard progressed along the next couple of corridors, he suddenly became aware of approaching voices. Heart in his mouth, the Commander slipped through a nearby doorway just as a pair of guards moved into view, marching towards him.

He closed the door silently and turned, realising the room was occupied. A short Human sat behind a desk, a surprised expression on his face. He opened his mouth out of curiosity as he stood.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Uhh… I'm kinda new here. Just started today." Shepard tried to explain lamely, and he saw that he wasn't selling his story.

"I'm calling security!" The man said firmly. "Gua-"

The words were barely halfway out of his mouth before the Commander's armoured fist connected with the side of his head, just behind the ear. The man's eyes rolled back and he tumbled to the ground limply.

He moved back to the door, listening carefully as the guards outside strode past, locked in conversation with one another. He waited impatiently as they moved away, barely daring to breathe lest his presence be betrayed. At last, they were gone. Shepard moved back to the insensible form on the floor, moving him into a position that would make sure he didn't choke on his tongue or anything. He searched the man for a security pass, but his search turned up nothing. For a second, he regretted not letting the man lure the guards in, suspecting that they would have had passes, but he dismissed that, realising their absence was more likely to be noticed.

He stepped back into the corridor, making his way along towards the door where Garrus and Delexia waited. After a few more encounters with guards, all of which were avoided with little trouble, he found himself at the unremarkable grey metal door. He tapped out a few commands on the door's console, opening it with ease.

The door clanked open to reveal the two Turians, waiting with obvious impatience. Delexia was the first to stomp through the door, followed closely by Garrus.

"Took your damned time!" She huffed irritably.

"What? Missing me already?" Shepard baited.

"I- no!" Delexia was off-balance for a second. "Just wanting to get this over with, is all."

"Then let's get moving." Shepard ordered, turning to face up the corridor. "I found it fairly easy to avoid the guards, but I imagine there'll be a few more closer to the warehouses. "

The two Turians nodded, falling into step behind the Commander. As a unit, the team headed off down the corridor, following Yalana's map. They wove their way through the base, dodging the guard patrols they encountered.

Shepard suddenly held out a hand, indicating his companions should stop. He peered in through a doorway on their left.

"There's a networked terminal in here. I want to try and find out where they're getting these artefacts. Watch out for any guards." The two Turians nodded, taking up a position on either side of the dooras the Commander approached the terminal.

Shepard waved his omnitool over the console, bringing up a screen filled with squirming numbers. He took a deep breath and tried to decipher the system's security. He cautiously manipulated the console's controls, eventually receiving an affirmative beep as the screen returned to a more conventional display. He worked his way through the files stored on the system, eventually finding what he was looking for.

"Okay, looks like they've been exploiting a Prothean dig site out in the Traverse. A little out of the way, so that explains how no one knows about it. I've got co-ordinates, along with a summary of the equipment and personnel Inutech has there."

"If you send that to the Council, they can have a team go out to scope out what's left and deal with any troops on the ground." Garrus said. "Maybe they'll find something useful in what remains."

"Yeah." Shepard agreed. "Hang on while I try and see which part of the complex they've got the aretfact stored in."

The Commander was silent for a moment as he sifted through the information again. He grunted with satisfaction ass he found what he needed.

"Okay, looks like the artefact is-"

He was interrupted by the screen suddenly going blank, some outside influence shutting it down. A voice sounded over the terminal's speakers, a voice thick with an accent that was familiar to the Commander. The face that appeared on the screen, however, was like nothing he recognised. Livid red scars covered the majority of the individual's expression, one eye a milky white while the other was bloodshot. Hair stood out from his head in random tufts, most of the scalp burned away. The creature was barely recognisable as Human.

"Shepard. I should have known it was you. Where's your little friend with the light fingers?"

"Donavan Hock? I hardly recognised you." Shepard asked in surprise.

"Yes, well I have you to thank for this." The scarred man pointed at his ruined face.

"How did you survive? We blew up your gunship."

"Luck, mostly." The criminal admitted. "As my gunship fell down the mountainside in flames, I was thrown free, my flesh still burning. There are too many scars for cosmetic surgery." His face darkened, the ruined skin taking on a purplish tinge. "And I have you to thank for that. It's a shame little Kasumi isn't here to share in suffering my wrath, but I'm sure your two friends will make good sport."

"You'll have to catch us first." Shepard said defiantly.

"Only a matter of time. Can you hear my troops at your door yet? They aren't far now." Hock said smugly.

At this confident statement, Garrus crouched next to the door, pushing it open just a little bit. He cocked his head, listening.

"We've got footsteps heading this way, lots of 'em."

"Then we've already stayed too long. Move out!" Shepard commanded, unholstering his assault rifle.

The squad rushed out of the office, looking both ways along the corridor. As the first ranks of approaching enemies raced into view in one direction, they began to retreat in the opposite direction, firing back over their shoulders as they ran. The initial peppering of bullets did little to slow the guards, and almost immediately the enemy returned fire, disrupter rounds pinging off the Commander's shield in a blaze of blue.

As they pounded down the corridor, taking sudden turns to the left and right in an attempt to shake their pursuit, Shepard grew aware of the fact that they were moving away from where the artefact was being stored.

"We've got to shake these guys! The longer we wait, the more likely Hock will move the relic."

"I'm open to suggestions, Shepard!" Garrus grunted back as he turned to fire a couple of shots from his sniper rifle. Two guards slumped to the ground, neat round holes in their foreheads.

As Shepard wracked his brains for a way to turn the tide of the battle, he caught sight of a door sliding open down a side corridor.

"In here!" A voice called out.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, the Commander turned and ran as fast as he could to the door, pushing through just ahead of the two Turians. As the door clicked shut, the guards raced into view, their pace faltering as they looked about in confusion.

Shepard looked to their saviour, a Human of average height and build with dark brown hair. He wore the uniform of the smugglers, but was obviously not hostile.

"Who're you?" Shepard demanded.

"Name's Allyn." Was the simple reply. "Citadel Security."

"Yalana's informant. She's been worried about you."

"My cover was compromised. Been playing hide-and-seek with these guys for the past coupla days. Now shush! They're right outside."

The guards were pacing the corridor uncertainly. One of them, clearly the leader, began splitting them into teams.

"Go down each side corridor and check each door. The boss doesn't want these guys to get away."

They waited tensely as the guards clumped off down the corridor in several teams, dreading the moment their door would open and they'd be discovered. Shepard's finger curled around the trigger of his weapon. Allyn saw this and held out a hand in a cautioning motion.

"Hold on a second," He whispered. "Wait until they've split into smaller groups. Then we jump out and catch those left behind by surprise."

The squad lingered for several more seconds, the knots in their stomachs tightening as the sounds of the searching guards got closer and closer. Finally, a set of footsteps approached their door, and the controls beeped as someone began to open them.

The instant the door hissed open, the squad leapt into action. Shepard lunged forwards, his rifle butt catching the guard at the door across the belly, sending the breath out of him. As he tumbled to the ground, his allies were gunned down by the combined fire of Allyn, Garrus and Delexia.

The rest of the guards, spread out along the corridor in several groups, spun to face the source of the gunfire. They reached for their weapons, but the squad was already unleashing a blistering hail of gunfire. Guards fell by the handful as Shepard worked the trigger of his rifle, sending round after round of incendiary ammo into the enemy numbers. One Salarian shrieked as his combat jumpsuit caught fire, the flames licking at his flesh. As he flailed around, the fire brushed at his companions, spreading through the ranks.

Garrus' sniper rifle's bark echoed through the corridor, each shot accompanied by the sight of another guard falling to the ground, dead. Beside him, Delexia used her shotgun to carve large chunks of flesh from the enemy ranks, the weapon being surprisingly accurate considering the distance it was operating over. Allyn stepped up next to the Commander, using a compact pistol to burn away the kinetic barriers of the enemy, leaving them vulnerable to the Commander's fire.

After a few brief moments of intense fire, the last guard lay dying on the floor, two smouldering bullet holes in his chest from Shepard's rifle. The Commander turned to the others, breathing heavily from the intensity of the battle. After ascertaining that they were unharmed, he activated his commlink, opening a channel to Officer Yalana.

"Yalana? This is Shepard. We've found Allyn. He's alive and unharmed. Our cover's been blown, and we're facing a lot of fire down here. We need backup, and you'll need to form a perimeter to make sure that the relic doesn't leave this building."

"I hear you Shepard." The C-Sec officer replied. "On my way."

Shepard closed the channel, turning to his companions.

"Come on. Let's get to the relic before Hock has a chance to move it."

They proceeded through the featureless corridors, past a multitude of different rooms, offices, recreational areas and living quarters, wending their way through the labyrinthine complex towards their goal. At last they filed out into a larger room, obviously the first of the warehouses.

As they entered, dozens of Inutech guards turned to look at them, weapons raised. Shepard darted behind a pile of crates as they opened fire, a hailstorm of bullets descending upon the squad as they ran for cover. Garrus popped off a few shots from his sniper rifle as he rolled across the floor, tumbling into cover behind a large metal box with nary a scratch on him. Across the length of the warehouse, one of the smugglers staggered back, clutching at a badly bleeding shoulder, while another groaned as he slid to the floor, a bullet hole in his jugular.

As the squad positioned themselves for a protracted firefight, Shepard heard the clank and groan of mechanised limbs moving just as two YMIR mechs unfolded, their heavy guns swivelling to face the squad's location. The metal floor beneath his feet trembled as they plodded over ponderously.

Popping the thermal clip in his weapon, the Commander reloaded the rifle as he stood, taking aim at the first of the hulking robots. He managed to empty the clip into the monstrous machine before it turned enough to fire at him. A single, high-powered round punched his kinetic barriers in the gut, deforming the mass effect field enough to wind him before he dropped back into cover. Garrus reacted instantly, standing up from behind his cover to fire at the same mech. Crack, crack, crack went his rifle before the machine tried to shoot him, missing by a fraction of an inch as the Turian dropped back into cover.

Allyn added his fire to the attack, leaning out from behind the structural beam he had taken refuge behind. His pistol popped off a few shots, after which he vanished back into cover before he drew the mechs' ire. Delexia was next, her shotgun coughing out clouds of hypervelocity slugs at the machine's failing barriers.

In this unpredictable, rapid-fire fashion, the squad whittled away the first robot's shields until they finally flickered. Seeing the vulnerability, Garrus took careful aim. His shot pierced the sweet spot on the face plate, rendering the machine blind. It waved about wildly, trying to find it's attackers. It fired erratically, doing more damage to its fellow mech than anything else.

Shepard finished it off with a well-placed shot to the humming power cord in its neck, causing it to drop to the ground, lifeless. The other mech had had its shields stripped away by its fellow's misguided fire, and sparked from multiple bullet holes in it's body. Shepard used this weakness to take it down with little problem.

As the last mech dropped, the smugglers roared, charging in from either side. Shepard cursed, angered that he had allowed himself to be distracted by the YMIRs long enough for the flesh-and-blood enemies to get around either side in a flanking manoeuvre.

The smugglers rushed in, firing recklessly. As they drew near, Delexia's shotgun sang, pumping masses of lead into their ranks and tearing them apart. Garrus stood behind her, firing over her shoulder. On the other side, Shepard's gun rattled in his hands, a blistering rain of bullets ripping into the approaching enemies. Allyn was more selective in his fire, his pistol barking as smuggler after smuggler dropped.

The final smuggler slumped to the floor, and Shepard paused to take stock of the situation. Garrus moved through the pile of corpses, scrounging usable thermal clips from the fallen. Delexia leaned against a crate, rubbing medi-gel over a nasty looking wound on what would have been her thigh, had she been Human.

"The relic's being stored in the next room." Shepard said, consulting his omnitool. "Let's keep moving."

"With you, Shepard." Garrus said as he approached, pushing a fresh thermal clip into his gun's ammo slot.

The squad moved to the far side of the warehouse, slowing as they approached the door set into the wall leading to the second warehouse and their objective. The Commander held up a warning hand as he leaned in close to the door, listening for any sign of movement. He tensed as he caught snippets of conversation on the other side of the door, armoured feet clanking about in the warehouse.

One finger held to his lips in a cautioning gesture, he pushed the door, easing it open slowly. Once there was a gap of about three inches, he peeked into the room beyond. He saw crates arrayed in neat piles around the warehouse, although it seemed that the room had been mostly emptied to make space for the object in the centre of the floor.

A massive metal box, about ten metres to each side and in height, sat quietly in the centre of a cleared space in the warehouse. It's smooth, polished sides were featureless, the only disruption to the smooth surface being the tiny control panel on one side that opened the box.

Donovan Hock hunched over this panel, typing in a complex code. Behind him, several smugglers bustled about, clearing a path for the box. As one walked past at a snail's pace, the crime lord's head snapped around as he barked out harsh orders, scarred visage gleaming red in the artificial light.

"Get a move on! We've got to get this out of here!" His face reddened with irritation as the smuggler tried to mumble an excuse. "I don't care how valuable it is, it's nothing compared to the relic. If Shepard takes this, you can forget about seeing another credit ever again! Now move!"

The Commander nodded to his comrades, signalling that they should move forwards. Garrus scuttled through the door, crouching behind a stack of crates. Delexia moved next, heading to the opposite side of the door. Allyn practically crawled on his belly, staying low to the ground as he moved past Garrus and continued along the side of the warehouse, taking a position behind a workbench piled high with empty chemical canisters.

Shepard took the middle route, heading straight for Hock. He rolled behind one weapons locker as a smuggler walked by not three feet away, the Commander's heart in his mouth at the near-discovery. He waited until the smuggler had put down his load, turning to walk back and collect another crate, and began moving forwards again. He paused behind a large box of paintings, not five metres from Hock.

"Damnit!" Hock pounded the side of the relic's box in frustration. "Where's Glox with the second key?"

He spat in anger as his subordinates mumbled incoherently.

"I am surrounded by incompetence. Go find him! We can't open this without both keys."

One of the smugglers nodded timidly, scurrying to be out of the range of Hock's wrath.

As the crime boss tapped his foot impatiently, the eyes of everyone present was drawn to the front of the warehouse, where the big metal door made a grinding noise as it shuddered upwards. Light filtered in from outside, silhouetting a large group of figures. The foremost of the group stepped in, flanked by the lumbering shapes of two YMIR mechs. The leader's profile was illuminated by the artificial lights of the warehouse, revealing the stern features of Yalana. Hock's face twisted in irritation as she stepped towards him, though he grew more uncertain upon seeing the two mechs flanking her, along with the dozen or so armoured C-Sec officers that followed them, forming a perimeter around the relic. Seeing that help had arrived, Shepard stood, levelling his rifle at Hock.

"Give it up, Hock. We've got you surrounded." He ordered.

"Oh, do you?" Hock smirked.

Confused, Shepard looked over to Yalana questioningly, only to see the C-Sec officer raised her weapon and aim it straight at the Commander. The two YMIRs shifted to aim at the squad and the assembled C-Sec agents behind them formed a tight barricade between Shepard and the door.

"I'm surprised you made it this far, Commander. I was sure the vents would get the better of you. I guess Hock's security system isn't as fool-proof as he was boasting."

"You knew the vents would try to cook me alive?" Shepard seethed.

"And I see you managed to draw Allyn out of hiding. This makes things so convenient, although none of this would have been necessary had your guards been halfway competent, Donovan."

"I thought we agreed there'd be no more of your superiors sniffing around here, Yalana."

"The Spectres are not my superiors!" Yalana snapped. "Besides, the worst I could have done was keep him tied up with paperwork. This way was much more satisfying. Now I can kill him for trying to help a criminal steal Prothean artefacts from the Council."

"That'll never fly." Hock protested. "You'd have to turn me over to the Council for your story to be even remotely plausible. Our arrangement would be over."

"Eh, worth it to bring down another Council lapdog." Yalana shrugged, turning her weapon on Hock. "Besides, you're behind on your payments."

"Wait a minute, if you hate the Council so much, why work in C-Sec?" Shepard asked.

"It's in the best interests of our organisation if I make sure that certain shipments slip through the Council's net unnoticed."

"Your 'organisation'?"

"Terra Firma. I'll give Mr Saracino your regards. He never quite got over your refusal to support his run for office." She turned back to Hock as a Salarian stepped through the far door, obviously the individual known as Glox, who bore the second key to the relic's box. "Ah, it looks like we have the second keycode. Hurry up and open the box, Hock."

"Why should I do that?" Hock asked defiantly.

"Because this can go one of two ways. Option one: you open the box so I can take a look at the relic and maybe get something valuable out of it, after which I take both you and the relic down to the station. Option two, I shoot you here and now, leave your corpse with Shepard's, and inspect the relic after Bailey's had a bunch of his tech goons break the box open and pore over it first. Either way, I'm getting a slice of the action, but one way ends with me getting what I want faster and you living."

Hock paled as the C-Sec officer strode up to him, gun aimed directly between his eyes. He gulped and began to enter his keycode. Glox was hurriedly ushered over and entered his half of the sequence. They stepped back as the door hissed, the interior pressure equalising with the exterior atmosphere.

As the box's locks cycled, Yalana turned and casually pulled the trigger of her weapon, the bullets sending a spray of gore across the warehouse's floor as Hock's head split open. Glox's body hit the floor an instant later, perforated by another flurry of bullets from the C-Sec officer's weapon.

"That ties up one loose end. Don't worry, Shepard, I'll get to you soon enough."

The box shuddered, it's corners splitting apart as it unfolded. The top lifted up before lowering itself down to one side. There was a quiet clank as the unfolding box flattened itself onto the floor, followed by the hiss of vapour as the cool air from inside the box mingled with the warm air of the warehouse, sending plumes of mist frolicking up towards the ceiling. Everyone drew in a sharp breath upon seeing the contents of the box.

Yalana was silent for a brief moment before she turned to the Commander, her face an apocalyptic red.

"What is the meaning of this?" She yelled, waving an arm where the relic should have been. In it's place, there was nought but empty space. Yalana turned back to the box, looking down at a spot near her feet. She kneeled down, picking up a couple of objects from the floor. She inspected them briefly before turning back to Shepard.

"You did this!" She spat, hurling the objects at him. They hit Shepard square in the chest, bouncing off his armour to slap down on the floor. Shepard's brows lifted upon seeing the red rose that now lay at his feet, and knelt to pick up the datapad. He turned it over to read the message displayed upon it.

Ha-ha! x

K.G.

"What have you done with the relic?" Yalana asked, almost frantically. "Where have you hidden it? How did you take it?"

"I didn't take it, Yalana." Shepard said calmly.

"Bull****!" Yalana spat. "You're the only person who's been interested in this relic."

"Why would I go through all of this if I already had the relic?"

"Maybe… you needed a distraction!" She said desperately. "You were here to draw my attention while someone went in the back way. Who's your accomplice? When I find out I'm gonna hunt them down and make them regret the day they set foot in my Ward."

"Now that's not very nice." Light hearted voice rang out as the C-Sec officer seethed.

All heads turned about in confusion, looking for the source of the words. Shepard saw a flicker of light from a stack of crates just next to Yalana. The lithe form of Kasumi Goto flickered into view, her cloaking device powering down with a blue flash. She sat atop the crates, one leg stretched out leisurely in front of her while she leaned back on her elbows, her cowled head turning to nod at the commander, the suggestion of a wink in the shadows that concealed her face.

"You! You're with Shepard." Yalana yelled. "Where's my artefact?"

"Your artefact?" Kasumi asked in amusement. "That's not how it works. I stole it, and so it's mine now."

"Tell me where you hid it, you little ****!" Yalana lifted her gun to point at the thief.

"Tut! Such poor manners. You didn't even say please." Kasumi's voice tinkled with a girlish giggle. "Just for that, I'm not telling."

Yalana fumed at this, pulling the trigger of her weapon. As she fired at the thief, Kasumi tumbled out of the way of the bullets, acrobatically spinning into an impressive one-handed handstand. She flexed her arm, launching herself upwards in a remarkable somersault. As she soared through the air, her tactical cloak engaged, smothering her form with transparency. Yalana ceased firing, looking about angrily. She turned to bark orders to her subordinates.

"Kill them all, even the little one. I'll pull the data from her omnitool when she's dead!"

As she said this, the air behind her shimmered, and a powerful punch sent her sprawling on the ground. Kasumi flickered back into view.

"So uncivilised! I guess I'll just have to teach you a lesson with my shiny new toy."

She tumbled back, leaping up into the air above the open box and landing on an unseen surface, seemingly floating in midair. A tactical camo field flickered under her feet, and the relic appeared.

Shepard's mouth dropped open as he took in what he was seeing. The cloak continued to fade, revealing more and more details. Sleek lines defined the section reserved for one operator, coiled around a small generator that now hummed with barely contained power. The form of the relic flowed back from a sharp point, housing two wicked-looking barrels. The rear of the device flared out behind the cockpit to allow no less than four thrust cones to splay out. As the Commander studied it, he realised he was staring at the most well-preserved and the only functional example of a Prothean fighter-class vessel. Kasumi stood astride it's nose cone, grinning broadly beneath the hood.

"What did you really expect little old me to get this out of here all by myself? That's why you're here, Shep. Now get to blasting, I need a second to get this thing going properly."

Yalana grunted as she got back to her feet. Her face creased in fury upon seeing Kasumi clamber into the relic and seal the cockpit.

"You deal with her little friends, the thieving **** is mine!" She yelled to her comrades.

Shepard danced back as the YMIRs opened fire, a trail of bullets peppering the floor in front of him. He rolled back behind a stack of crates, gaining a temporary reprieve as the hulking machines had to lurch around to get a clear shot at him. He thrust his hand over the top of the crates, clumsily aiming his rifle blindly at the machines. He fired off a string of shots, but received little in the way of results except for the dull ping of kinetic barriers deflecting his fire.

Garrus had taken up a position as far away from the enemy as possible and was putting his deadly skill with the sniper rifle to good use. While the Commander kept the brutish robots at bay, he was busily dropping C-Sec agent and smuggler alike, thinning out the ranks of lesser enemies. Shepard could see the reasoning in this tactic, as it allowed him to focus on the bigger threat without having to worry about being flanked.

Allyn joined the Commander in his refuge, bleeding from a nasty wound to his side. He activated his omnitool and sent an overload burst winging over the crates at the mechs. One jerked as the arcs of electricity found a way past its shields, affecting its internal systems directly. The barrier shimmered and failed, leaving the machine vulnerable to the squad's fire.

Delexia was quick to take advantage, springing up from behind her cover. She darted to a stack of crates, firing her shotgun as she ran. As the Turian dodged a rocket blast, outrunning the fiery shrapnel by hardly an inch, she scored a couple of direct hits upon the first mech, punching through its armour. She then waited a few seconds before vaulting over the crates to charge straight at it, firing her weapon some more. As the mech's chain guns opened up,. She spun on her heel like a graceful dancer, swivelling into the refuge of a workbench.

The mech was now shuddering, smoke seeping from a multitude of different holes in it's armour. Shepard stood and carefully aimed at one of the holes, his incendiary ammo igniting inside the machine. Gouts of flame roared through it's innards, melting vital parts in a cascade of destruction. It whirred dully before slumping, the light fading from its 'face'. As the fires raged inside it, the heat built up until finally the face plate popped, shattering from the heat.

The second YMIR loomed menacingly over it's dead comrade, shoving the lifeless hulk out of the way with one arm. As its mechanical voice creaked out menacingly, its attention was drawn by a rushing noise to one side.

Both the squad and the remaining enemy troops looked over in amazement as the fighter lifted up into the air. Yalana, standing before it defiantly, roared angrily to see her prize slipping away from her and charged the machine, leaping into the air. She clutched at the fighter frantically, managing to haul herself up. She stood shakily on the machine, lifting her weapon to aim at Kasumi. The diminutive thief looked out through the plexiglass viewport of the cockpit and, seeing the danger, twitched a control.

The fighter swereved in the air, throwing Yalana off balance. She staggered, her weapon swinging about erratically. It's fire, her aim put off by the sudden movement, perforated the nose cone of the fighter, it's ancient shields proving ineffectual after so much time and at such close range. Smoke poured out of the relic as it shuddered through the air. It swung into the second mech, the two machines colliding with a tremendous crash. The YMIR was thrown off its feet, struggling to slowly stand again. The fighter fared a lot worse, panelling falling away and wiring left sparking uncontrollably.

Yalana, her perch already precarious, was thrown clear of the machine, hitting the floor with a wet thump. She struggled back to her feet almost as slowly as the YMIR, one arm bent in an unnatural way. She winced as she took a step but, whether through her sheer determination or by pure dumb luck, she had kept a hold of her weapon and now aimed it at the fighter, now clearly more determined to bring Kasumi down than make sure the relic was left intact.

Shepard realised she intended to destroy the craft and, acting quickly, her leapt over his cover and ran towards her, weapon firing as he charged. A powerful barrier flickered around her, deflecting his attack easily, but it was enough to draw her ire.

"Looks like the shields C-Sec issues to its captains and commanders." Garrus commented over the comms. "Special design, only the Council has access to the schematics. It'll be a tough son of a **** to take down."

"Got it" Shepard acknowledged. "Allyn, keep the mech busy. Delexia, help me take this barrier out."

"Got it, Shepard." Allyn confirmed. "Shouldn't be too hard. Think that knock your friend gave it toojk out the shield jenny."

"With you, Commander." Delexia called, pumping her shotgun to load in a fresh clip.

Shepard dropped down behind a box filled with straw, obviously some kind of container for delicate items. It was flimsy, but sufficient to deflect the majority of Yalana's attacks. Delexia followed him, rolling into hiding behind another crate filled with shards of pottery. The clay and stone relics clattered as the bullets hit them.

The Commander nodded to the Turian, and the pair of them split apart, Delexia going left while Shepard went right. Yalana was thrown off-balance for a second as she faced two moving targets, but soon homed in on Shepard. Her gun chattered loudly, the bullets pinging off the Commander's barriers and off the crates around him as he strafed right, firing his own weapon back at her as he scurried along.. Delexia's shotgun coughed out cloud after cloud of pellets at the C-Sec officer, all of which were cast aside by her barrier.

As Yalana maintained her defensive posture, the two attacking comrades closed in on her, Shepard keeping low so as to throw off her aim while Delexia tried to come in from the side. As the Commander's barriers warned him of dangerously low power levels, the female Turian closed to within a couple of yards of the C-Sec officer. She pulled a small device from her belt and cast it onto the floor in front of Yalana. The C-Sec officer barely had time to react before the device flickered, casting out brilliant blue arcs as it detonated. There was a flash, and a rapidly expanding sphere of blue energy. The moment it touched Yalana's barrier, it flickered and died, leaving her exposed.

Shepard charged forwards, pressing the attack. His gun found it's mark soon enough, punching through her C-Sec uniform in a bloody swathe. Delexia brought her shotgun to bear, the powerful bite of the gun tearing through Yalana's flesh. The corrupt C-sec officer fell to the floor, dead.

Shepard spun around to see how the rest of the battle was going, just in time to see Garrus snipe the last of the smugglers, shouting out victoriously as he once again scored a hit between the eyes. Only a couple of the C-Sec agents remained, although they looked much less certain now their commander was dead.

Allyn was backed up into a corner, only one pile of crates standing between him and the second mech. The machine was damaged badly, one arm dangling by its side, only connected by a handful of wires. The armoured shell was pitted with marks, and one leg moved slowly, as though the joint was seizing up.

It rounded the last of the crates, finally affording itself a clear view of Allyn. It's one remaining gun arm lifted to aim at the C-Sec operative, chain-gun churning as it powered up.

As Allyn closed his eyes in fear of the impeding attack, a brilliant flash filled the warehouse. The YMIR shook violently before toppling over, a round crater lined with white-hot molten metal where it's back should have been. The squad turned to see the Prothean fighter hovering steadily in mid-air, a grinning Kasumi behind the controls. Smoke twirled from the barrels of it's two weapons, still red-hot from being fired.

The last of the C-Sec agents, seeing both their leader and their heavy artillery defeated, turned and ran, casting weapons aside in their haste to get away. As they fled, Delexia cheered, waving her shotgun menacingly at them.

"Ye-heah! You better run." She shouted.

Shepard smiled at his friend's jubilation, choosing to keep his own celebration to a minimum until he made sure everyone was alright.

Garrus strode over, not a mark on him. He grinned confidently as he marked a few notches on the butt of his rifle. The weapon was so heavily marked that a smooth bit of the butt could not be found. Allyn limped over, nursing several wounds. Seeing his predicament, Delexia hurried to his side, administering medical treatment with a gentle nature Shepard did not expect of the pirate.

There was a loud thud, and Shepard turned to see the fighter sitting back where it belonged, smoke still pouring from the ruptures in its hull. Kasumi popped the cockpit canopy, clambering out and leaping to the floor lightly. She stepped around the prone body of Hock, lightly avoiding the gathering pool of blood, and approached the Commander with a grin on her face. Her eyes glinted within the darkness of her hood.

"Hey, Shep." She said by way of greeting. "Good to see you finally made it."

"Kasumi." Shepard said warmly, gathering her up in a friendly embrace. Garrus was quick to step forward and greet the cheery little thief as well.

"Garrus!" Kasumi exclaimed as the Turian wrapped his arms around her. "How's my little Archangel?"

As Garrus released her, Kasumi turned to see Delexia. She smiled and extended a hand in a friendly fashion.

"And you must be yet another stray the Commander's picked up. He's got a habit of collecting us. Almost as bad as the actual Collectors. Kasumi Goto."

"Pleased to meet you, Kasumi." Delexia bowed her head.

"And you are…?" Kasumi extended a hand to Allyn.

"Only on loan to your Commander. Allyn Bayne, Citadel Security, Tayseri's Vice Division."

"Drug hound?" Kasumi asked. "So what're you doing looking into an antique smuggling outfit like this?"

"I'm good at blending in, getting in with the right people. Unfortunately, I'm apparently not so good at reading my own people. I can't believe Yalana was the informant I was looking for! That she would betray C-Sec is… I can't believe it!"

"Terra Firma's never been home to the most upstanding citizens. Doesn't surprise me they've got some of their number in the system to bend the rules where Humanity is concerned." Shepard said.

"I've no doubt Hock was throwing her enough credits to make betraying her superiors real easy." Kasumi said, the smile fading from her lips. "He always could shift money around. It's how he kept control of his empire."

"How long have you know he was running this operation?" Shepard asked.

"That's actually the reason I've been hitting their shipments. Once I found out he'd survived our last meeting, I had to know what he was up to. Imagine my surprise when I found out he's been shifting intact and fully functional Prothean tech." She looked over at the damaged fighter. "Unfortunately his crown jewel is no longer quite so pristine. I can't even guess what that would have fetched in the right market."

"But you've been dropping the tech off at Council research facilities, not selling it." Shepard stated rather than asked. "Not exactly your style, Kasumi."

"I saw what the Collectors were involved in, Commander. I know we need to get to work." She said defensively. "Figured this was the best way I could help the Galaxy get ready while I was still on my own. Besides, Reapers or not, I'd have still gone after Hock, mostly because of our history."

"'While you were still on your own'? You had that much faith in me finding you again?"

"You got killed and you bounced back harder than a Volus in a bouncy castle. I figured a couple months jail time would hardly slow you down. There's still some bad guys out there that need their asses kicked, and I know you're not about to let someone else do your job for you." She looked over her shoulder as the fighter sparked loudly. "We'd better get this thing to some halfway decent scientists before it completely falls apart. Time for catching up back on the ship."

"Agreed. Although I'm dreading what Bailey's gonna have to say about this…"

~o~0~o~

"I can't leave you alone for five minutes! I send you out there to stop some smugglers, and you come back to me with the best part of Tayseri Ward's Customs Department dead, a warehouse full of destroyed Prothean relics, and not a single prisoner to show for it?"

"In all fairness, they weren't in a very co-operative mood down there." Shepard said, though it was apparent his words would have no calming effect on the C-Sec Executor. "And the fighter was only mostly destroyed."

"Oh, yeah. That'll sound real good when I report to the Council. 'Hey, I know the guns are all burnt out and the shields are shot to hell, but at least the engines run!' You turned a Prothean fighter jet into a goddamned scooter!"

"I thought the techs said there was some interesting information to be had from studying those engines?" Garrus asked from behind the Commander.

"The Council won't want to hear about how you found a way to let the joyriders zip around the wards a little faster in their private shuttles. They're preparing for some kind of counter attack against whoever it was that took Earth. They want guns and shields."

"The shields were already practically nonexistent by the time we got that ship out of it's package." Kasumi said dismissively. "And the guns were gone after one shot, though I imagine that had more to do with your Yalana than anything we did."

"And that's another thing! How am I meant to tell the Council that one of my more trusted operatives was a damned bigoted turncoat? They'll want to screen every Human in C-Sec, and I'll be on the spot for being the Human in charge when the **** hit the fan. Things are gonna be hellish from here on out."

"It's not your fault that she chose to act the way she did." Shepard reassured him. "And I'll stand up for you if the Council chooses to make a big deal out of things."

"Well, I guess the word of a Spectre will carry a bit of weight with the bureaucrats. Alright, Shepard. You've not done wrong by my before, so I'll do what I can to clear up this mess in Tayseri. But if my head ends up on a Pike over the gates, I'm gonna make sure yours is right there next to mine."

"I read you loud and clear, Bailey."

"See that you do. Now get out of here before something else blows up in my face."

Shepard smiled at the grizzled old cop and saluted, turning to leave. Delexia, Garrus and Kasumi followed him out of the C-Sec Executor's office. Outside, they were greeted by Allyn. The C-Sec operative smiled at them, one arm in a sling from the injuries he had sustained.

"Commander!" He called out, stepping up to the squad. "Thanks for, you know, getting me out of there. I appreciate your help."

"Any time, Allyn." Shepard said, shaking his uninjured hand. "Any word on what's going to happen in Tayseri now?"

"Not sure. Just heading in to Bailey's office to give him my report. Some people are saying that maybe I should get Yalana's job. I'm not complaining, but I'd rather be out in the field than inside giving orders. But, I guess we've got to fill the void somehow, and fast. Yalana left a lot of cases open that's go bad fast. I guess running things for a little while until someonw better is found wouldn't be too bad."

"I'm sure it'll all turn out fine in the end." Shepard said confidently. "Take care, Allyn."

"You too, Shepard."

The two nodded a farewell and parted ways. Shepard led the squad back to the shuttle landing area, from where they could find their transport back to the Normandy.

Modifié par fainmaca, 04 mai 2011 - 01:05 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 26: En Route To Bekenstein

“Kasumi!”

The entire crew on duty on the Command Deck turned at Kelly’s squealed greeting. The chirpy little yeoman rushed forwards to embrace Kasumi, the pair laughing joyously.

“Kelly! Its good to see you again!” Kasumi laughed.

“Oh we’ve been so worried about you.” Kelly sighed

“Really? Even you Shep?” Kasumi asked with a smirk. “I guess Cerberus gave you a heart when they rebuilt you after all.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too confident.” Shepard grumbled good-naturedly. “I was getting tired of Jacob moping around the place. Figured having you around might cheer him up a bit.”

“Jacob’s here?” Kasumi asked happily. “I’d better go say hi…”

“Cloaked?”

“But of course, Commander. Is there any other way?”

Shepard smiled widely as the little thief stalked off through the CIC, receiving jubilant greetings right left and centre from her old shipmates. The Commander turned to his yeoman, still smiling. She returned his grin.

“It’s good to have her back on board, Commander.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not been the same without her.”

“She’s a bright little soul, good to have around. No offence, but most of the crew you acquire tend to be… a little intense, to say the least. It makes a pleasant change having someone who knows how to lighten the mood.”

“And what about me, Kelly?” Garrus asked, walking up behind the pair. Behind him, Delexia was undoing the collar fastenings on her armour. As he spoke, she slapped him around the back of the head.

“You idiot. You couldn’t lighten the mood if you were filled with helium. Now come on. I wanna get this armour stowed and swap my shotgun for a shot glass.”

The Commander chuckled as the two Turians wandered off, squabbling among themselves.

“They seem to be getting on well together.” He commented.

“I’d put it down to Human nature, but… you know. Turian. Individuals of the same species tend to gravitate towards one another.”

“You don’t think they’re… uhh?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t.” Kelly answered. “They act more like a brother and sister. It’s good for Garrus. He hasn’t spent much time with his own kind lately. And Delexia’s coping with a lot at the moment. Frankly, were it not for Garrus, I’d be worried for her.”

“Really? How so?”

“She lost her ship, along with pretty much everyone she was close to. I know I’d be having trouble dealing with it. At a time like that, just having someone around is better than anything a therapist could do.”

“I see.” Shepard nodded. “I guess I’ll make more of an effort to make her feel welcome.”

“You always do, Commander. No matter who steps aboard, you always greet them with open arms. I guess that’s part of what makes you such a great leader.”

The yeoman saluted before turning to walk away. About halfway down the corridor between the CIC and the cockpit, she paused.

“Oh, by the way Commander. While you were out I went for a little shore leave. I was wandering through Zakera’s markets when I found something I thought you might find interesting. It’s in your cabin.”

“Thanks, Kelly.” Shepard smiled, intrigued.

As Kelly walked away, Shepard turned to look back into the cockpit. He could see Joker there, bickering in an animated fashion with EDI.

“Oh come on! Best five out of nine.” He pleaded.

“I must return to my assigned duties, Jeff.”

“You’re just scared that I’ll beat you this time.”

“Accumulated data from previous attempts suggests that this would be highly unlikely.”

“Yeah, you’re scared.”

“Joker, EDI? Something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, Commander!” Joker straightened up in his seat, tapping controls busily, although Shepard noticed he wasn’t actually doing anything other than looking busy.

“What’s going on here?” Shepard asked suspiciously.

“Jeff and I were competing in-“

“Hssht!” The pilot hissed, trying to silence his ship.

“Jeff, do you have something stuck in your throat?” The AI asked with concern. “Should I alert the Med Bay?”

“Ahh… Let him choke, EDI. Now, what were you saying?”

“Judging from Jeff’s reactions, I believe answering your query would violate an unspoken confidence between us. I cannot say any more.”

“EDI, I’m in command of this ship. Now, do I have to go down to the AI Core and start pulling wires?”

The cockpit was silent a moment longer before Joker sighed, slumping in his seat.

“Spectre Justice Five.”

“What?”

“A new game. They hold tournaments every now and then where you can win credits. I’ve been playing it in my downtime, and EDI got curious. So I figured out a way to hook her up, and she’s an absolute machine!” He chuckled only to quail before Shepard’s stern expression. “Sorry, bad pun.”

“You used an AI to rig an online tournament?”

“Only once or twice! I figured we could use the money. Its not like anyone got hurt.”

“And how do you go from that to bickering about it?”

“Last tournament we ended up against one another. Total stalemate. So, we’ve been trying to settle it ever since. Except now she’s in the lead, she doesn’t want to let me have a chance to settle the score!”

“You have had multiple opportunities to do so, Jeff. If you were capable of besting me, you would have done so.” The AI’s tone was just slightly smug.

“You see!”

“Okay, first of all…” Shepard said, pacing from side to side as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No more using an AI to illegally fix online tournaments, clear?”

“But…”

“No buts. Only a few people outside of this ship know about EDI. The Galaxy’s not ready to deal with an unshackled AI yet. Can you imagine if word got to the Quarians that a Human ship was host to an AI? Even Tali didn’t tell her people about EDI. She knew their reaction would be visceral. You using her to make a fast buck on some game will only draw attention to her.”

Joker’s mouth worked silently, unsure of what to say next. Finally, his head drooped.

“Alright.” He said reluctantly.

“Good.” Shepard said firmly. He turned to walk away, but paused. “Oh, one the other thing?”

Joker’s head lifted, his expression wary.

“Off-duty pursuits stay off-duty, understood?”

“Yes, Commander.”

~o~0~o~

Shepard yawned as he stepped out of the elevator into his cabin. He stretched his arms far above his head, popping the shoulders as he walked past his ‘office’. He paused as he noticed a small package on his coffee table, a black box-shaped object. Remembering Kelly, he smiled as he stepped over and sat down, leaning his elbows on the table as he inspected the item.

It’s sides were glass, and the top whirred with some unknown machinery in it. A little note had been placed next to it.

It’s from Thessia. should go with the rest of your collection.

Kelly.

He reached out and touched the box, which suddenly lit up. The sides, which had previously been dark, slowly turned transparent, their opacity fading to reveal what was contained inside.

A small blue light flickered on inside the lid of the box, illuminating the diminutive fish that swam within. Large fins fanned out on either side, glimmering the faintest reds and oranges. Its sides were golden, tinged with the tiniest hint of turquoise. As it looked at the Commander, its outline suddenly flashed a brilliant, angry red, a defence mechanism.

Shepard smiled at the tiny fish, lifting the box carefully. The reflective glass dimmed again at his touch until he found the switch on the top. He carried the new pet over to the large glass tanks that covered half of one wall of his cabin, gently opening the top of the tank and tipping the fish in to join the others. This done, he stepped back, watching as the new arrival explored its latest home.

As he stood there, drinking in the calming scene of the fish going about their day-to-day lives, he heard the door to his cabin hiss open. Heavy footsteps clanged across the deck, a familiar presence stepping up next to him.

“Nice one.” Jack commented. “Thessian Sunrise Ruby. Who got you that?”

“Kelly.” Shepard explained, staring at the fish as it hovered in front of him for a second, it’s flickering red display warning him to keep back. His brow creased as he spotted something wrong with this picture. “Wait a minute… how do you know so much about fish?”

“What? Just ‘cause I’m a **** it means I’m not allowed to know ****? I like fish. Always have. They don’t need much, they don’t give you no trouble, and they’re pretty.”

“Its just… odd trying to picture you interested in something like this.”

“So I’m only allowed to think something looks nice if it’s painted in someone’s blood?” Her tone was growing more defensive. She didn’t like having to explain herself, and yet the more time she spent around the Commander the more she found herself doing so. “That’s the problem with you, with everyone. They always assume they know me after one look. Well I’m-“

“Hey, it’s okay.” Shepard said quickly, putting his arm around her shoulders. She pushed for a split-second before allowing the embrace. “I’m glad you like it.”

Jack sighed, leaning her head into the Commander’s shoulder. She stared at the fish, swimming around in their simple world. She drank in the calm joy of just being, the purity of the moment. Finally, reluctantly, she pulled out of the embrace.

“I’d best let you get back to work.” She said quietly. “No doubt the great Commander Shepard’s got a lot on his plate.”

“No hurry. I was actually just planning on taking it easy tonight. Care to join me?”

“Sounds like heaven.” Jack smiled.

The pair moved over to the couch. With a sigh, Shepard leaned back, holding the slight woman tightly in his arms.

~o~0~o~

“Hey Shepard.”

The Commander smiled as he walked into the Port Lounge. The smiling thief was sitting on one of the chairs, her knees held against her chest as she looked out of the viewport. He stepped over and sat next to her.

“Kasumi. Just checking in, seeing how you’re taking to life back aboard the Normandy.”

“I was wondering when you’d drop by.” She smiled. “It’s one thing we can always count on you for. You’re always looking out for your crew.”

“Our job’s tough enough as it is. Me being a jackass doesn’t help.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s more than just knowing how to inspire your troops. Being a nice guy comes naturally to you.” She looked out of the viewport again. “Hardly feels like I left. There’s still a few faces missing around the table at breakfast time, though we’ve acquired quite a few new ones. That Revenant’s a little creepy. Considering the last time I saw a Collector I was shooting at it on their station, I think it’ll take a little time to get used to having him around.”

The thief turned from the viewport to look straight at the Commander, her eyes glinting brightly under the hood.

“But, with times like they are, I guess any willing ally is a welcome one, am I right? Earth’s on the line here, and after that, the rest of the Galaxy.”

“Way to lighten the mood.” Shepard grumbled.

“You know me, I call it like I see it. But I’m not worried. I know how you work, Shepard. The Reapers have one hell of a surprise waiting for them.”

“Let’s hope so.” Shepard smiled thinly. “Anyway, how’ve you managed to dodge Cerberus for so long? They’ve been doing a pretty good job of rounding the whole team up.”

“Look who you’re talking to, Shepard.” Kasumi grinned. “If there’s anyone who can stay out of sight, it’s me.

“I’ll admit, there have been a few close calls. For the first month after the Normandy was captured, they pursued me from one side of Council Space to the other. The Illusive Man must have made sure that every last one of his agents knew my face. You’d be amazed about how far Illusive’s network spreads, or how deep Cerberus’ influence goes.

“After a while, I learned how to spot Cerberus agents, learned how to spot who was trustworthy and who was a threat.”

“Really?”

“It’s not that hard. There are certain tells you’ve got to look out for. Anyone who’s hiding something has them. It’s incredible how much you can learn about a person’s secrets from what they’re not revealing.”

“So how’d you go from running for your life to putting a stop to Inutech’s smuggling activities?”

“It’s actually Cerberus you’ve got to thank for that. They were one of Inutech’s principal buyers. It was while I was gathering information on one of their agents tasked with tracking me down. He thought he had been tailing me, but I gave him the slip and began following him.”

“I’d have thought you’d use the opportunity to get out of there.”

“Evading an organisation like Cerberus is a lot more complex than jumping on a shuttle and heading through the nearest Relay. I needed to know how he thought, what his methods were, if I were to properly get rid of him.”

“So then what happened?”

“I followed him to one of his meetings with an Inutech representative, an arrangement for the transport of a large shipment to a Cerberus facility.”

“I take it you made sure the shipment never arrived?”

“Unfortunately, no. It was too soon for me to make my move. My work takes time, and a plan. I had neither at that point.”

“So you shifted your focus from Cerberus to Inutech.”

“Pretty much. I made sure I could avoid any more Cerberus agents first.”

“How so?”

“I acquired certain Cerberus communications frequencies and passcodes. Used them to keep tabs on any agents active in the system.”

“Those would be incredibly useful. Do you think you could-“

“Give a copy to EDI? Did it the second I stepped on board. I figured Illusive would have changed the codes to keep EDI out. After all, an AI with access to information on all of Cerberus’ current operations would be potentially devastating. They won’t get you into the Illusive Man’s personal files or anything, but they’ll give EDI somewhere to start.”

“Right.” Shepard said, pleased with her initiative. “Thanks.”

“I’ll let you get back to things, Shep.” Kasumi grinned. “Wouldn’t want to waste the day gossiping like a pair of Salarian Dalatrasses.”

“Alright. See you around, Kasumi.”

Shepard stood and made his way out of the lounge. He walked along the corridor towards the Mess Hall. As he rounded the corner next to Life Support, he almost bumped into Kelly. The yeoman was heading for the elevator, on her way to her station on the Command Deck. She jumped at the sight of the Commander, brushing at her lips to erase the remnants of her breakfast. In spite of her efforts, a smudge of chocolate remained at the corner of her mouth.

“Oh! Shepard!”

“Kelly.” Shepard greeted. “How’s Rupert’s cooking today?”

“Better than ever. I think he stocked up on some better supplies while we were on the Citadel.” She widened her eyes as Shepard lifted a finger to the corner of his mouth before scrubbing at the smudge on her face. “The eggs are especially good today. I think he said they were from Elysium.”

“Sounds good. I’m just on my way to try it out.”

“Alright.” Kelly nodded before pausing. “Oh, by the way, Commander?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering where our next destination is? I’ll pass the co-ordinates on to Joker so we can get going.”

“I figured, seeing as we’re in the neighbourhood, we might as well head to Bekenstein. We have a powerful Cerberus supporter we need to pay a visit to.”

“Alright. I’ll tell Joker.”

The yeoman nodded before turning to head towards the elevator. Shepard moved past her, making his way into the Crew Mess.

The Mess was bustling with activity. The night shift, just going off duty, were busily securing themselves some food before they bedded down for the rest of the day. A few members of the day shift, running a little behind schedule, hurriedly gulped down the remnants of their first meal of the day before rushing to their stations. Overseeing the melee, Rupert Gardner was handing out plates of steaming food to each crew member that approached his station. He saluted the Commander as he approached.

“Commander, what can I get for ya?” He asked helpfully.

“Whatever you’d recommend, Rupert.”

“Alright,” The sergeant replied enthusiastically, enjoying the challenge of picking something Shepard would like. “Got some poached Jabor eggs from Elysium, some bacon and sausages, vat-grown, but I guess that can’t be helped in this day and age, along with a glass of Minnibarr juice. Perfect way to start the day.”

“Sounds perfect. Not sure what a Jabor egg is, or Minnibarr juice, but I’ll try anything once.”

“They’re genetically modified chickens, grow to about double the size of the normal breeds. The eggs they lay are enormous, about four times as big as regular ones. Damn tasty, too. Unusual for genetically modified stuff. Normally you end up with something bland and boring compared to the real thing.” He said as he plated up the Commander’s meal. “Minnibarrs are a kind of fruit, native to Mannovai. One of the few Salarian foodstuffs that actually tastes good to Human tastebuds. They’re a queer purple colour, and the juice isn’t much lighter. Normally the appearance can be a bit off-putting, but the flavours are worth it.”

“Thanks, Rupert.” Shepard said as he accepted his tray. “Keep up the good work.”

“Can do, Shepard. Managed to get a hold of a bunch of fresh supplies while we were on the Citadel. Should keep the crew from grumbling for a while yet.”

Shepard smiled as he turned and sought out a seat amongst the crew. He scanned the tables for a free spot to see Ken and Gabby enjoying their breakfast. Ken noticed the Commander and shuffled over to allow Shepard room to sit.

“Commander! Come join us, why don’t you.” He offered. Shepard graciously accepted his offer, setting down his tray before him and tucking in. After the first few cautious mouthfuls he ate with gusto, thoroughly enjoying the meal Rupert had picked out for him.

“Ease up, Shepard!” Gabby chuckled. “It ain’t gonna disappear if you take your time over it.”

“Mmph! It’s good.” Shepard managed with his mouth full.

“Aye.” Ken acknowledged. “The ol’ sergeant can cook up a storm wi’ that wee kitchen. You’d hardly credit it to the same man who spends the rest o’ the day cleanin’ out the bogs.”

“Kenneth!” Gabby said sharply. “We’re trying to eat here.”

“Just statin’ fact, hon.”

“Not at the table.” The spunky engineer said sharply. “It’s almost as bad as your jokes.”

“Jokes?” Shepard asked curiously.

“Don’t encourage him, Commander. They’re not fit for sharing in public.”

“Come on, Gabs. You know you love my jokes. You wanna hear one, Commander?” Without even waiting for a reply, Ken plunged straight into one. “Okay, an Asari Matriarch, a Salarian Dalatrass and a Krogan Broodmistress all walk into a bar-“

“No! Definitely not that one!” Gabby almost shouted, cuffing him on the back of the head. “Come on, you. Finish up and get moving. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Trouble?” Shepard asked.

“Nothin’ a few hours of hard graft won’t cure.” Gabby said dismissively. “The primary magnetic containment coils have been playing up. We’ve got backups, but they’re not as powerful. We don’t want to run without ‘em in case the core’s output spikes and we all get a healthy dose of gamma rays.”

“We won’t need to shut down the core again will we?”

“Nah. The backups should hold long enough for the repairs to be completed. If we take any longer than that it’ll be because we need new parts, in which case we’ll run with what we’ve got until we get to somewhere where we can find what we need. Don’t worry, Commander. The Normandy’s not gonna drop outta the sky because of it.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do, Commander.” Ken said as he stood up to leave. “Ask me again sometime and I’ll get ‘round to telling you the rest of that joke.”

“You will not!” Gabby said sternly. “That’s your commanding officer!”

Shepard struggled not to laugh as the pair scuttled off, bickering among themselves. He turned back to his food, tucking in with relish.

A shadow swooped across the table, causing the Commander to look up. Clutching a box of specially-prepared food, Delexia sat down opposite him, popping the lid on her meal and picking at it cautiously.

“Commander.” She greeted.

“Delexia,” Shepard nodded in return. “How are you today?”

“I’m alright.” She smiled around a mouthful of repulsive-looking blue goo. “Though I’ll have to make sure to get myself some dextro supplies when we make our next stop in civilised space. Forgot to stock up before we left the Citadel.”

“We can always make a detour.” Shepard offered.

“Don’t bother. Garrus was kind enough to share his stash with me. It’s not like we’re gonna drop dead from starvation any time soon. And we’re not gonna let ourselves get to the point where our combat abilities are affected.”

“Alright.” Shepard said, genuinely wanting to help. “But if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Will do, Shepard.” The Turian dug into her food.

“So, how’ve you been keeping busy these past few days?”

“Been helping Vakarian out with the guns. He’s always looking for ways to get an extra ounce of power out of them. But he won’t let me help him calibrate the things. Always insists that I go do something else. So I’ve been getting to know the crew a bit better. You’ve got a fine team here, Shepard. Though I can tell there’s a few faces missing.”

“Yeah, there are. How can you tell?”

“You’re forgetting I had a crew of my own. It’s easy to see when there’s someone missing. Everyone sort of… leaves a gap where they belong, as if waiting for them to return.”

“I guess you’re right.” Shepard admitted. “But we’ll get them back, don’t you worry.”

“I have no doubt. You go to such lengths for your crew. And I’ve been hearing all sorts of stories from them about how you dove into the heart of the Galaxy to save them from the Revenant’s people.”

“Not alone. I had one hell of a squad to back me up.”

“But they wouldn’t have followed you unless they believed in you. Nobody signs up to an impossible cause unless they really trust the person leading them.”

“You sound like you’ve had your share of impossible missions.” Shepard commented.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. You do when you’re a Huntress.”

“A Huntress? That some kind of Turian organisation.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Delexia’s tone discouraged further inquiry.

“Alright.” Shepard said as he scraped the last few morsels off his plate. He stood up, collecting his plate before nodding to the Turian. “See you around, Delexia.”

“Take care, Commander.”

~o~0~o~

Shepard moved up to the CIC, stepping up to his terminal at the foot of the steps leading up to his post. His eyes flicked to the blinking light that represented the Normandy’s progress through the system, glad to see she was well on her way towards Bekenstein. He looked back to his terminal and noticed a flickering image of a sealed envelope on his screen, indicating a new message. He input his password and opened his inbox. His eyebrows shot up upon noticing the messages waiting for him. He shuffled through them, quickly weeding out the spam with an irritated grimace. One message, however, caused him to laugh out loud.

Have you been injured, at work or on the go, in an accident that wasn’t your fault? You could be entitled to up to four hundred thousand credits in compensation! Our team of fully trained legal representatives could get you the money you deserve.

Don’t take our word for it, just ask Jezeria:

‘I was travelling through Tayseri Ward when a load-lifter carrying rubble from the Geth attack ran into me. My arm was broken, and I couldn’t return to work for three weeks. Compensate-4-U managed to get me almost seventy thousand credits to cover medical fees and lost earnings. Way to go, Compensate-4-U!’

Our team of qualified lawyers operate on a no-win no-fee basis. So if you don’t get your compensation, you don’t have to pay all the legal fees. Call now to find out just how much you could gain.

Compensate-4-U. We look out-4-U!

Shepard struggled to contain his laughter, drawing curious stares from the crew on the Command Deck. Some chuckled, finding his mirth infectious.

“I wonder how much they could get for someone who’s been dead for two years.” Shepard muttered as he deleted the message. The last message sobered him up, as he noticed it was from Liara’s office. He opened it swiftly, enduring the expected security sweep.

Shepard,

Well done on the Citadel. Not only did you remove one of the rising influences in the market on stolen Prothean relics, but you secured one of the most valuable finds of our time. Securing this Prothean fighter is as significant as finding the beacon on Eden Prime.

I have already mobilised teams of my own operatives to study the artefact. They are very hopeful for what can be retrieved from the remains. It is a shame it was so heavily damaged, but we’ve already uncovered several facets of Prothean ship design that will further our own knowledge immensely. The technical side of things is a little beyond my capabilities to explain like this, but suffice it to say that this discovery will enable us to build smaller, more powerful Mass Effect cores to power our starships.

Incredibly, it seems as if this fighter was capable of faster than light travel, and even traversing the Mass Relay network. This is an incredible discovery, as the fighters we are capable of building these days could not survive the strain. This durable structure will prove to be a significant technological advance for us.

But the most important discovery we have made was locked within the ship’s onboard computer. Although we have only just begun to decrypt the data locked within, it would seem that we have found a fully functional navicomputer. Before now, all data held within Prothean navigational devices discovered by our scientists has degraded beyond our ability to decipher it. But with this, we'll be able to fill in gaps in the Mass Relay network, discover ancient settlements that until now have remained beyond our reach.

My operatives will continue to extract what they can from this treasure trove of information. Until then, continue your activities against the Reapers.

Look after yourself, Shepard.

Liara.

Shepard closed down the terminal, pondering the consequences of the discoveries the fighter was yielding. With the Mass Relay network fully mapped out, the Galaxy would open up to the Council races, allowing travel to every corner of the Galaxy. As any military commander would agree, mobility was important in any battle, on any scale, and this advance provided an incredible amount of mobility to the Council races, cancelling out the advantage the Reapers gained from their intimate knowledge of the network.

His mind buzzing, Shepard walked through to the armoury. The terminals buzzed quietly, running various diagnostics Jacob had set. On one bench, a shotgun sat in a cradle, beams of light caressing it as a variety of scanners absorbed every last detail about the weapon. Another bench was home to a minifacturing plant, busily churning as it worked omnigel and various metal alloys into the components necessary for what appeared to be a new chest-plate for Grunt. The massive size of the object could not be used for any other member of the team, although at a stretch it would have served as part of the Kodiak's armour plating.

Behind the whirring machinery, a pile of disorganised equipment sat waiting to be maintained. Shepard stalked over to the pile and pulled his armour from the pile, noting that Mordin had been right when he had commented on the cleanliness of the equipment. With his thoughts still churning, the Commander laid the armour out on an empty workbench and set to work.

He started by scrubbing the armour down. Dust and grime had collected in the joints of the greaves and the gauntlets, as well as in the treads of the boots and in between the fingers of the gloves. He worked to get the muck out of every groove and awkward corner. After that, he tended to the chest and back plates, cleaning them vigorously. He wondered at the dirt that had collected in the space of one mission, but then realised that his journey through the vents of the Citadel couldn't have been kind to his equipment, as he would have been bombarded by all of the dust and dirt in the system. As he worked, he realised that Jacob had to do this for the squad's armour after each and every mission.

Finally, the armour was clean. He then set to work on the myriad scratches and dents in the surface of the armour. The task was tiring, but Shepard found it satisfying. It had been a long time since he'd maintained his own armour, having spent the past few years letting the ship's quartermaster do it and, after the loss of the first Normandy and his subsequent resurrection, Jacob. At long last, he was ready to start reapplying the non-reflective coating to his armour. This coating would dull the armour's natural shine, helping him to move about in the field unnoticed.

As he finished his work, putting the armour away in one of the armoury's equipment lockers, the door leading to the CIC. Jacob strode in, eyes widening as he noticed Shepard.

“Commander!” His eyes turned to the Commander's armour, sitting in his locker. “I was gonna get round to that. Just went out to get myself something to eat.”

“Oh, don't worry about it.” Shepard said, closing the locker. “It felt good to do it myself. I needed something to work on. Had a lot on my mind lately.”

“I hear that. There's more **** hitting the fan these days than you'd find in a Krogan toilet.”

“Hah! You got that right.” Shepard chuckled. “So how’ve you been keeping, Jacob?”

“Honestly? I’m doin’ pretty good. I know that the Humans on the ship have been down about losin’ Earth. But we’re getting things done here. It feels good to be a part of the solution, you know?”

“You’re a good man, Jacob. I get the feeling that, even if you hadn’t been assigned to the Normandy, you’d still be out there doing something to help.”

“Damn straight. I can’t understand how so many people just sit on their hands and wait for someone else to fix things.” The young soldier smirked. “Got me into trouble more than a few times back when I was in the Alliance.”

“Really?”

“I remember one time, during my first year out of the Academy. We were on patrol on the frontier. Got a distress signal from a small colony. Batarian slavers. The bastards had already made off with half the colonists.”

“Odd that they’d hit such a big target.” Shepard commented. “Normally they only target lone ships between destinations, or a handful of prefabs at most. How’d they make off with so many colonists?”

“The colony wasn’t that big to start with, but this was more than a simple raid. It was a large gang of slavers, and they’d taken their time planning this. They paid a bunch of Quarians on Pilgrimage to get in and disable the defences, and then they hit all the military installations. By the time anyone knew they were under attack, every last member of the militia was dead, the guns had been destroyed, and the squints were pouring off their ships, gunning down anyone who tried to fight and incapacitating those who didn’t.”

“Wow. They meant business.”

“By the time we got there, things were looking pretty hopeless. We arrived in orbit just as the first few ships tried to make their escape. We could kept them grounded, but our commander was too afraid of causing the deaths of any more colonists.”

“I can’t imagine you let them get away.”

“Not a chance. I saw an opportunity to get in close to the cargo ship they were using to move the colonists, took a fighter and plunged right in.”

“Something like that could have got you court-martialled.”

“I suspect it woulda done, had I failed. I managed to take out the squints’ engines, left ‘em drifting in space. The other ships were all small, too small for transporting prisoners. So once the main ship had been dealt with, they ran, and we followed. None of the slavers got away that day.”

“And the colonists?”

“Alive and well, for the most part. Some got hurt in the firefight, and of course we were too late for the casualties of the initial assault. But a damn sight more came out of that free and alive than if I had listened to my commander.”

“But I’m guessing that wasn’t what your commander focused on?”

“Of course not. He claimed my actions endangered more lives than they saved. Made it his business to make sure I was sent home in disgrace. Damn near got me thrown out of the Alliance. I was sent back to Arcturus for another couple of months, until I got stationed on Eden Prime.” He smiled grimly. “I guess its true what they say, huh? No good deed goes unpunished.”

“The brass has always been full of uptight ****s, Jacob.” Shepard said. “Don’t let it get to you. You did the right thing, and a lot of people have you to thank for being free.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jacob seemed less than convinced. He turned to the pile of discarded armour on his workbench. “Hey, listen. Thanks for stopping by. Its been good to chat, Commander. I’d best get back to work.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you later, Jacob.”

“Shepard.”

The Commander nodded a farewell to the earnest young soldier before he strode out of the Armoury and into the CIC.

Shepard began to walk around the Galaxy Map when he noticed Samara. The Asari was standing at his station, leaning on the railing as she pondered the map before her. Her graceful features were utterly serene, a tranquillity emanating from the core of her being.

Curious as to her unexpected presence on the Command Deck, Shepard approached carefully. Even though he was certain he made no sound, the Asari turned to face him, smiling warmly.

“Samara? What are you doing here?”

“Shepard.” She dipped her head in greeting. “I apologise. I am in your way.”

“No, not at all.” Shepard said hurriedly. “It’s just a little strange to see you up here. Is everything alright?”

“Perfectly. It is just… there is only so much meditation one can do. I so rarely explore the ship beyond my living quarters that some parts of the Normandy may as well be another planet to me. Aside from that, I like to examine maps of the Galaxy.” She pointed over her shoulder at the holographic representation of the Galaxy. “This reminds me a lot of the Observatory back on Thessia.”

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d appreciate being reminded of that place.” The Commander commented.

“Not all my memories of my time in the monastery were bad, Shepard. Being close to my daughters gave me a sense of peace I have not been able to achieve anywhere else.”

Shepard looked over her shoulder, noticing that the Map had been zoomed in on Thessia.

“Been thinking about Falere and Rila a lot lately?”

“I suppose it is obvious.” Samara said, her voice tinkling with a quiet chuckle. “It is hard not to be concerned for your loved ones in days such as these. I worry that even Thessia is not safe from our enemies.”

“Your daughters will be safe, Samara. We’re going to stop the Reapers before they take any more worlds, I promise.”

“A bold vow in these uncertain times, and one that will be nigh impossible to fulfil.” The Asari said grimly. “And yet… I believe you, Shepard. If there is one person in the Galaxy who could lead us to victory, it is you.”

Shepard ascended the steps next to her, leaning his elbows on the rail as he watched the stars whirl before him. Samara turned and leaned forwards next to him, the pair watching the Map together.

“My thoughts have been drifting back to my maiden years.” Samara began after a few silent moments. “So long ago, and yet not dissimilar to my time as a part of your squad.”

“Really?”

“Oh, not in the foes I faced or the tasks laid before me, but similar in the spirit of camaraderie I find amongst the crew. We rely upon one another, day by day. It is exhilarating to be in the company of those whose hands you know you could lay your life in, and that trust would not be misplaced.”

“You’ve told me a little of your maiden years before.” Shepard said, thinking of her harrowing tales of rescuing slaves from the Collectors, and her years as a mercenary. “You served as a merc, but frankly, with your combat abilities you could have been a Commando. I’m amazed nobody considered recruiting you.”

“Who is to say they did not?” Samara smirked. “I was asked, but I was too young and impulsive at the time. I considered such a post to be restrictive, not for me. I wished to be free to travel the length and breadth of Asari Space, not required to obey commands. Later on in life, I realised how impetuous I had been, but I was too old to begin the training.”

“They have age restrictions on being an Asari Commando?”

“Of a sort. They do not wish to recruit maidens approaching the matron stage. Our overbearing urges to settle down and begin a family are too strong to be ignored, and are not in line with the attitude expected of a Commando. The Republics recruit Commandos at a very young age so they may be trained before their desires to find a mate and settle down manifest. They are conditioned ruthlessly to suppress their desire to mate, to put the welfare of their people above all else, and to follow orders without question.”

“That wouldn’t work. You can’t suppress all that instinct, no matter how hard you make someone train.”

“Of course, but it can delay their resignation from the Commandos, giving the Republics several more decades of loyal service in exchange for the investment of their training. Of course, it is the unquestioning obedience that is valued above all else. This is not something that can be imposed upon a matron of three hundred years of age.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“Indeed. It is not viewed as the most appealing aspect of the Commandos, so it is not widely advertised.”

“Seems there’s a lot your people keep to themselves.”

“It is the way of every species we have encountered to withhold some information about themselves. Of course, for species like the Krogan or the Batarians, shame does not affect them to the same degree as Humans or Asari, so their secrets tend to be of a much darker nature.”

“Hmm. So what did you do after turning down the Commandos.”

“As I told you before, I danced, I fought, I mated. I lived a full life before meeting Notana.” She smiled as he mind drifted back several centuries. “I recall the first time I met an alien. A Quarian mercantile vessel visited the planet I was currently living on. This was before the Geth uprising occurred, so they were still in possession of their home planet and semi-functional immune systems. They still needed to wear suits for fear of contamination, but they could remove their helmets and interact with other species for a limited time.”

“You’ve seen a Quarian without his helmet on?”

“Indeed.” Samara smiled knowingly. “They are a beautiful people, although they do not appear as most would expect. It is hard to describe.”

“I take it you became friends with them.”

“Indeed. And in one case, much more than that. Tayo’Jolan. We became… very close. Not lovers, but given time I imagine that may have been a possibility. He was with the merchants as a bodyguard of sorts. He belonged to the Wardancers.”

“I’ve never heard of Wardancers before.”

“It is not surprising. They were rare, even before the Geth uprising. They are a monastic sect that believes in purity of the soul through purity of the body. They are expert martial artists, constantly training to achieve physical perfection. Quarians have long been known for their grace and beautiful dancing form, but that is only a shadow of the fluid movements of a Wardancer.”

“So what happened then?”

“Tayo… went home. We had intended to meet again, but two months later the Quarians began attacking the Geth, and the Geth fought back. Rannoch was engulfed in civil war as machine and flesh struggled with one another. I heard nothing from Tayo, or his kin. Still hopeful, I waited for him at the time we had agreed to meet, but he never arrived.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She said stiffly, though there was a softness at the heart of her words. “Quarians live such short lives, I would have had relatively little time to know him anyway. In the end, the Galaxy continues to spin.”

“Even so, any time we can have with the ones we love should be cherished, no matter how short it may seem.”

“But we must not allow our grief to cripple our hearts.” The Asari said stoically. She sighed, straightening up. “You have other duties to attend to, Commander. I have taken up enough of your time.”

Shepard was about to contradict her, but the lithe Asari was gone, swiftly striding over to the elevator and vanishing before he could utter a word.

The Commander considered following her, and pulled away from the Map to do so, but a beep from his omnitool made him hesitate. He looked down to see his ‘tool notifying him that Joker was trying to get his attention.

“Go ahead, Joker.”

“We have arrived in orbit around Bekenstein, Commander.”

“Good. Have Rolston get the shuttle ready.”

“Aye aye, Comm-“ The pilot suddenly paused.

“Joker? Everything alright?”

“Got a transmission coming through on an encrypted channel. Someone asking to speak to you by name.”

“Any sign as to who it is?” Shepard asked, knowing he had too many enemies around to be careless.

“None.” Joker replied simply.

“Hmph.” The Commander grunted. “Put it through. But make sure EDI’s braced for any hacking attempts. Get ready to engage the stealth systems if there’s any sign of someone trying to lock onto our location through a signal trace.”

“Patching it through.”

Shepard caught himself standing up straight, chuckling at the thought that he’d stand to attention for an audio transmission. He shrugged and returned to his relaxed slouch over the rail above the Map.

“This is Commander Shepard of the Normandy.”

“Commander Shepard. A pleasure to finally meet you.” A heavily modulated voice filtered through the comms.

“Who is this?”

“I hope you’ll forgive me for not sharing my name at the moment. You never know who might be listening. But you can call me Agent Delta.”

“Agent?”

“A mutual friend told me to be ready to render assistance as you required.. I hear you’re interested in Victor Lawson.”

Shepard tensed at the mention of Miranda’s father. Only one of Liara’s agents could have known about his interest in the former Cerberus supporter.

“Okay, Delta. You have my attention. What can you do to help us?”

“Not like this, Commander. Not when someone could be listening in. We need to speak face to face.”

“Alright, but you’ve got to come see me. You’ll forgive me for not trusting you yet.”

“Understandable. I can be in orbit within the next few minutes.”

“We’ll send you co-ordinates. Shepard out.”

The Commander turned from the Map, stepping down from his post. He turned to Kelly, the yeoman waiting for his instructions.

“Assemble the squad. We need a plan.”

Modifié par fainmaca, 11 mai 2011 - 07:39 .

[Katamariguy]

And now for Miranda!

[fainmaca]

Chapter 27: Shepard’s Fifteen, Part 1

The briefing room bubbled with chatter as the squad jostled to make room for one another. The press of bodies highlighted to Shepard the sheer size of his team of specialists. They were indeed a small army, the best of the best.

Grunt had taken a position to the left, leaning back against the wall nonchalantly. The Krogan’s massive frame loomed over the heads of everyone else, and so he could hang back behind the others without worrying about someone getting in the way of his line of sight. Zaeed and Jack stood beside him, the trio chatting amongst themselves. Denizens of the Engineering deck, they had always got on well together, respecting one another’s ruthless nature.

In front of them, lining one side of the briefing room table, stood Garrus, Jacob, Legion and Samara. Opposite them stood Mordin, Kasumi, the Revenant and Delexia. Several conversations buzzed across the table amidst the gathered specialists, all curious as to what they had been gathered together for.

Finally, on the right, Etarn and Feron chatted amicably. Shepard was glad to see the Batarian getting on with the rest of the crew. Given his species’ brutish image in the eyes of the rest of the Galaxy, the simple act of engaging someone in small talk would have been daunting at first.

The door hissed open, allowing Kaidan to enter. He walked past the rest of the squad, making his way to where Shepard stood at the head of the table.

“Commander.” He greeted.

“Kaidan. Any word on this Agent Delta?”

“Her shuttle is on its way. Shouldn’t be too long now.” The young man seemed uneasy. “You sure about letting him on board? We don’t know anything about him. We don’t even know if he was telling the truth when he said he was one of Liara’s agents.”

“How else could he know why we were here?”

“Plus, I know about Agent Delta.” Feron said, stepping up to the table.

“Really? Have you met him?” Shepard asked.

“No. He’s one of the old Broker’s deep-cover operatives. He’s been maintaining his cover on Bekenstein since before Liara came into power.” The Drell explained. “The planet is home to many powerful Humans. Victor Lawson is just one fish in this very big pond. It’s Delta’s job to monitor every major player on Bekenstein, at times nudging events to topple some megacorporation, while at others influencing things so a relatively minor socialite can ascend the ranks.”

“That’s an impressive amount of power for one man.”

“It’s just a fraction of Liara’s influence. She could expose his identity at any time, throwing him to the wolves. It’s part of the reason why the power hasn’t gone to his head yet. He gives the Shadow broker his loyalty.”

A chime sounded over the ship’s comms.

“Commander.” EDI said, her hologram flickering into existence above the briefing room table. “Agent Delta’s shuttle has just landed in the cargo hold.”

“Understood, EDI. Send him up.” Shepard responded.

The Commander nodded to his squad, silently gesturing for them to take their places around the table. He stood at the head of the table, Feron’s array of comm terminals and screens flickering behind him. Kaidan stood at his right hand, Feron at his left. The rest of the squad gathered around the table, six to each side.

The doors to the briefing room hissed open, allowing Agent Delta to step inside, giving the Commander his first glimpse of the mysterious Shadow Broker agent.

The first thing Shepard noticed about Delta was that he was, in fact, not a he. She was a young woman of slight build. Sharp yet beautiful features scanned the briefing room’s occupants. Her emerald eyes, framed by a cascade of auburn hair and milky white skin, narrowed as they turned to the Commander.

“Commander Shepard.” She nodded formally. “Agent Delta. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Agent Delta.” The Commander returned the greeting. “Any chance we can get that name now?”

“Of course. It’s Elanie. Elanie Johanson.” She smiled, though there was little mirth in the gesture. “I apologise for the secrecy, but given the love Bekenstein’s people have for intrigue and blackmail, I must do what I can to preserve my cover.”

“Understandable.” Shepard acknowledged. “So, I believe you have some information for us about Victor Lawson?”

“Yes. The Broker told me you’d come, so I’ve spent the past few weeks finding out what I could about him.”

“And? What can you tell us?” Kaidan asked.

“First of all, I can tell by the way you’ve gathered your squad here that you’re expecting to storm his estate. That will not work. Victor is prepared for an attack by any of his wide array of enemies. A man does not rise to his level of power without drawing the ire of a great many people. His estate is a fortress, and in the case of any attack he has dozens of avenues of escape. He’d be long gone by the time you got to him, along with anything of value he’s got stored there.”

She switched on her omnitool, bringing up an image of the exterior of the Lawson estate above the briefing room table.

“I understand that you are here to secure the freedom of a former associate, Lawson’s daughter. However, you should know that the Shadow Broker has an ulterior motive for sending you here. Victor Lawson was once a staunch supporter of Cerberus. Not only that, he’s recently been in contact with the Illusive Man, both to secure Miranda and also to try and negotiate the release of his other daughter, Oriana. It would seem that the Illusive Man is using the second Lawson girl as leverage to gain access to the immense amount of resources at Victor’s disposal.

“The information stored within Lawson’s databases could be vital to our efforts to bring down the Cerberus network.”

“Alright, so we got after the intel at the same time as we try to break Miranda out.” Shepard said. “Where’s it being kept?”

“I cannot say exactly.” Elanie admitted. “There’s two potential locations within the main mansion where the data may be found. Firstly, Victor’s office.” The hologram over the table flickered, a red glow highlighting the upper floor of the mansion. “His personal terminal will be there, the most logical place to start.”

“And the other location?” Feron asked, his keen black-green eyes scanning the mansion’s image carefully, his perfect memory taking in every detail.

“Lawson had a large basement complex installed below the mansion. The construction wasn’t well documented, thanks to some political string-pulling, but I managed to get some information from the contractors, shipping manifests and the like. All evidence points to some sort of lab being built directly underneath the mansion. Given Lawson’s penchant for genetic tinkering, this would make sense.”

“A genetics lab?” Shepard asked.

“Yes. And given Cerberus’ wholehearted support of anything that betters the Human race, it’s not too much of a stretch of the imagination to think that they’ve got their tentacles in whatever projects he’s been running.” Elanie explained. “We’d doubtless find a veritable treasure trove of information down there. Plus, it’s likely that that is where Miranda is being held captive.

“Ideally, we need to hit both locations at once.”

“And we can’t just charge the gates.” Shepard concluded. “When it was just Miranda we were after, we didn’t have to worry about him knowing we’re coming. Given his investment in her, he’s not going to risk hurting her. But with the data to retrieve as well, we need to get to that before he has a chance to dispose of it.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, we’ve got some of the Galaxy’s best operatives in this room. I guess breaking in won’t be too difficult.”

“Indeed. And fate has been kind enough to provide us with the perfect opportunity.” Elanie smiled, this time a hint of cheeky amusement in her expression. “Victor Lawson is going to be hosting a party, tonight. All of Bekenstein’s major players are going to be present, the cream of the crop. An unrivalled chance to infiltrate the estate.”

“I take it you have a plan, then.” Shepard folded his arms across his chest.

“As a matter of fact, yes I do.” The Agent’s tone was proud. “It’ll require multiple specialists, all playing to their greatest strengths.”

“No shortage there.” Shepard boasted, waving his arm around the room at the squad. “What do you need us to do?”

“Our first priority will be obtaining Victor Lawson’s secure passcodes. They’ll give us access to his personal terminal, plus the databases in his labs.”

“I’ve got some of the best hackers the Galaxy has produced.” Shepard said. “We can get by without them.”

“I’m afraid not, Commander. Lawson’s too careful. If we try to get into his network without those codes, he’ll be alerted and we’ll have his personal defence forces dropping on our heads before we can blink. Trust me. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to get past Lawson’s defences. You want in, you. Need. Those. Codes.”

“Alright. How do you suggest we get a hold of them?”

“Victor will have them stored on his omnitool. Obviously, we can’t just steal his ‘tool. Not unless you’ve got someone who can remove Lawson’s hand without him noticing. So I’ve managed, through methods I’d rather not go into, to get a hold of an omnitool mod that can hack into other ‘tools and steal vital data. It’s highly illegal, and if you were to be caught with it on the Lawson estate, Victor would have you killed without hesitation.”

“Okay, so someone carries a modded omnitool, and uses it to hack into Victor’s ‘tool to steal the codes. Seems simple enough. But there’s got to be a catch.”

“Yes. The downside is, the mod only has a very limited range.”

“How limited?”

“Five, six feet at the most.”

“Not exactly an easy distance to lurk at.”

“Precisely. Victor won’t trust a stranger who approaches him directly. However, he does have a weakness for a pretty face.”

“You suggest we have someone… seduce him?” Shepard asked, a little uncomfortable with the idea.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Elanie shifted on her feet. “We need someone to go into the crowd at the party and somehow draw his attention, get close to him and keep him occupied long enough for the ‘tool to do its work. I could do it, if you like, but I think any female should draw his attention, if they’ve got the right moves.”

“Well, we’re not short of beautiful women on this boat.” Kaidan murmured. “Who do you think is up to the task, Commander?”

Shepard paused, looking around the table as he pondered the choice. His eyes went to Jack first, but quickly moved on. The biotic convict… lacked tact. His eyes darted to Delexia next, but swiftly dismissed her. Having a Turian seduce a Human, especially a Human known for his strong views about the First Contact War, was impractical at best, disastrously short-sighted at worst. That left Kasumi, Samara and Elanie. He disregarded the lithe thief. Although her skills at would be handy for this digital pick-pocketing, he knew she’d be needed elsewhere. That just left the Asari and the information agent. A further second’s thought helped him to make up his mind.

“I’ve yet to meet a single man in the Galaxy who can resist an Asari’s charms. Samara, it’s up to you to get Victor’s attention.”

The exiled Justicar started at her assignment, clearly unsure of her ability to live up to Shepard’s expectations.

“I- yes, Shepard.” She bowed her head.

“Good.” Elanie said firmly. “Next, we need to get her in. Victor’s guards will have a guest list of people to let in. We won’t get past them without causing a scene.”

“So how do we get in?”

“Victor’s guards lead very predictable lives. They change shifts every two hours. If we can get one of our people to take the place of the guards meant to be on duty when we make our move, then there’ll be no problem. They’ll need to stand watch and be ready to help if things turn sticky.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Feron commented. “Who would you suggest, Commander?”

“We need someone Human. They’ll draw less attention.” Shepard reasoned. “Jacob, I think you’re up to this job. Keep a low profile, and stand by to come to the rescue if things hit the fan.”

“Aye-aye, Commander.” The young soldier saluted.

“Excellent.” Elanie said. “You’ve got one hell of a crew, Commander.”

“I suspect getting Samara in is only the beginning.” Shepard answered.

“But of course.” The agent smirked. “You should know by now that nothing is ever that simple, Commander.

“We’ll need to get a tech specialist into the mansion’s lower levels. They’ll be responsible for getting the doors in the labs open, and keeping the mansion’s defences dormant. Your Asari will have to send the codes to them once she has them. This task will require incredible technical skill. If necessary, I have the skills, but I leave this decision up to you, Shepard.”

Shepard looked about again, weighing up the skills of his crew to decide who had the necessary talents. His eyes darted to Feron, Mordin, Kasumi, Etarn, Legion and finally Kaidan. He dismissed the thought to use Mordin. The Salarian had a keen mind, but his skills lay with the biological. A technical task like this would not be a wise use of his talents. Feron had proved to be a skilled hacker, but his skill set lay more with remaining unseen. Kaidan had the necessary skills, but was better suited to combat and command. Etarn remained an unknown. He had technical skills, but Shepard didn’t know if he could rely on him for something this demanding. That narrowed it down to Kasumi and the living machine, Legion.

Kasumi could certainly handle the task, but Shepard felt that he’d need her stealthy presence elsewhere, so he finally made up his mind.

“I can’t think of a better person for the job than a living machine. Legion, you’re our saboteur on the inside.” He turned back to Elanie. “Speaking of which, how will we get Legion inside?”

“Again, not a straightforward task. But not impossible, either.” She tapped her omnitool, zooming in the image of the estate on a gate set in one side of the wall that girdled the property. “This is the freight entrance. There’s going to be crate upon crate of supplies shipped in for the party. Food, decorations, and some additional security equipment.”

“Additional security equipment?”

“Victor’s guards need armour and weapons. Plus there’s a few sentry drones, some mechs and a mobile turret.”

“Seems a bit… extreme, for a party.”

“Victor Lawson is the embodiment of paranoia. He’s invited the best and most ambitious of Bekenstein’s socialites into his home. He’s going to be on the alert for anyone trying to engage in some industrial espionage.”

“I guess that makes sense. How do you know about these shipments?”

“I have some contacts in the spaceport. Everything that lands on this planet has to go through customs at some point. It just took the sufficient application of credits to uncover that information.”

“Alright, so how does this help us get a saboteur on the inside?”

“Those contacts I mentioned have agreed to take an extra crate inside the walls. A small cargo pod, so it won’t be noticed amongst the mass of stuff going in. We can send your little machine-man through the gate in that. However…”

“There’s more?”

“The gates are equipped with scanners, designed to search for contraband. They’d easily pick up the signals released by anything sentient, be it organic or synthetic.”

“So how do we get past that?”

“We need an infiltrator to mess with the scanners.” Once again the focus of the image shifted, this time to a tunnel beneath the street outside of the estate, next to the gate. “This is a part of the old sewer system. Of course, now all waste is recycled. These sewers date back to the foundation of the colony. One branch leads under the gate. It won’t get you into the mansion, but it will allow you to access the external security systems, such as those on the gates.”

“I can’t imagine a control freak like Victor would leave this route unguarded.”

“Indeed. Security fields, automated turrets, and more than a dozen guards at any one time make it very secure. Once again, this will call for someone with a measure of technical ability, but it will also require stealth.”

Once more, Shepard looked to Feron, Etarn and Kasumi. After a moment’s thought, he turned to the Drell.

“I guess it’s time for you to live up to all your stories of your work on Omega, Feron. You’re in charge of making sure that crate gets inside those walls.”

“I won’t let you down, Commander.”

“Once you’ve finished with the scanners at the gate, work to keep the rest of the external security systems occupied.” Elanie instructed. She turned back to Shepard. “So that only leaves the small detail of who’ll accompany the cargo pod to the gate.”

“We need someone to deliver it in person?” Shepard asked, confused.

“Just… to watch over our saboteur.” Elanie said awkwardly. “I’m not saying I don’t trust my contacts in the delivery company, but this is Bekenstein. Loyalty is very cheap. If they get it into their head that selling us out would be more profitable, I want someone there looking out for our interests.”

“Sounds fair enough.” Shepard shrugged. This choice required little thought. “Grunt, you’ll accompany the crate. They’d have to be brain-dead to want to mess with a Krogan. First sign of trouble, I want to see heads smashed in, understood?”

“Yes, Battlemaster.” Shepard caught the eager gleam in the Krogan’s eyes. Obviously the eager warrior hoped secretly that there would be trouble.

“Good.” The Commander nodded. “Now, what about me? What’s my part in all of this?”

“You will be leading the team in charge of getting the information from Victor’s office. Infiltrate the party, wait for our insider to get the doors to the upper levels open, and then head on up to the office. You’ll have to restrict yourself to pistols and formal dress rather than your usual arsenal of weapons and armour.”

“I suppose it’ll have to do.” Shepard sighed. “I’ll take Kasumi, Delexia and Jack with me.” He decided, neatly covering combat ability, biotics and tech attacks with a small squad. The trio nodded, ready to do their part.

“And that just leaves two more matters to attend to: firstly, the team responsible for obtaining the data from the labs. The Geth will have to get the doors to the garage open to let them in, as that’s the only external access point that leads into the sub-levels directly.”

“Garrus, you’re in charge of the second team. Take Mordin, Elanie and Etarn with you.” Shepard ordered. The Turian nodded stiffly.

“You can count on me, Shepard.”

“And, lastly, we’ll need someone to lead the extraction team. Your shuttle and that skycar I noticed in the Cargo Bay should be sufficient to get the whole team out.” Elanie surmised.

“Kaidan, you’re in charge of the extraction team. Take Zaeed and the Revenant, and be ready to bring the rain if we get really stuck.”

“I really need to get a new hobby. Saving your ass is starting to get a little boring, Commander.” Kaidan quipped, a smile on his face.

“Funny. Just for that, Zaeed gets to fly the Kodiak. You’ve got to sit in the back.” Shepard smirked.

“Good. It looks like we’ve got a plan now.” Elanie said.

“We’d best get to preparing for this evening then.” Shepard said. He faced the entire table. “Dismissed.”

The squad began to disperse, some going to check their weapons and armour, others to make sure they were well prepared to fulfil their roles as tech experts, infiltrators or, in Samara’s case, a femme fatale. The Asari stepped up to Elanie, discussing the nature of the omnitool mod she would carry, along with any relevant information she could gather on her target.

As the room emptied, Shepard turned to Kaidan. The earnest soldier was smiling.

“Why is it we can never just have a straightforward mission on this ship?” He asked dryly.

“Come on, Kaidan. You know you’d get bored if you had a normal job.” Shepard chuckled, patting his old friend on the shoulder. “Come on. We’ve got a party to crash.”

~o~0~o~

Charlie Metcalf sighed as he trudged through the streets of Armstrong Heights, one of the more affluent districts in the outer reaches of Milgrom City, Bekenstein’s capital. The wealth of the area shouted out at him, from the sprawling mansions on either side to the cleanliness of the street underfoot. Most of the mansions here had fairly large tracts of land, but the dwelling that was his destination dwarfed them all. Situated on the edge of a sprawling mass of land, the Lawson mansion loomed over its neighbours arrogantly. Beyond the gargantuan building, a vast expanse of woodland, empty plains and even a few small hills formed the rest of the estate.

The estate was hosting a party tonight, a luxurious affair that would cost more money than Charlie could hope to earn in his entire lifetime, even if he lived as long as a Krogan. The sheer extravagance of the affair repulsed the young guard, mostly because he wouldn’t get to enjoy any of it. He hunched his shoulders even more against the coolness of the fading evening, the armour his employers had supplied to him not particularly comfortable, even less so with a chill in the air.

“Excuse me. Please, can you help me?” A calm, strong voice wafted over him. He looked about to spot the source of the words, and the sight of the speaker took his breath away.

An Asari stood in front of a narrow alleyway between the walls bordering the grounds of two of the street’s mansions. Her face was a serene mask, her very form emanating an aura of beauty and tranquility. Her startlingly blue eyes stared at him and into him, transfixing the young man. A figure-hugging emerald green dress did more to accentuate her figure than cover it up, its flowing lines drawing attention to her feminine shape. Fastened around her neck was a black choker, a radiant green gemstone set just above the hollow of her throat. The dress was sleeveless and backless, leaving her sinuous, smooth arms and shoulders bare for all to see. The shimmering green fabric curled around and clung to her breasts, the neckline exposing her collarbone to the cold evening air. A long, narrow diamond of fabric had been cut from the dress, starting at her sternum and extending down almost as far as her navel, which could be seen as a tiny divot in the taut green cloth that covered her firm, smooth stomach. The green fabric, shimmering with subtle shades of red and blue like a hummingbird’s wing, wrapped itself tightly around her perfect hips, loosening a bit as it worked its way past her knees to halt just a few inches shy of her ankles, giving a tantalising glimpse of her perfectly sculpted calves.

Heart pumping, Charlie looked back to her face as she spoke again, the hauntingly beautiful tones of her sultry voice engulfing him. He took in the glinting black jewellery she wore, framing her hairless brows and further bringing out the light that shone within her eyes. More emeralds studded these pieces of jewellery, further adding to her air of mystery. As her head bobbed, he noticed the tips of her head tentacles were a startling red, in stark contrast to her sky-blue skin. Unlettered in Asari culture, he assumed it was yet another part of the stunning beauty’s choice of outfit for tonight. His eyes darted back to her sensual lips as they parted, carefully cradling each word as it made its way out of her mouth. She wore some makeup, but not much was needed, such was the grace already present. Her lips were scarlet, while subtle black lines extended the corners of her eyes reminiscent of the style of ancient Egyptians on Earth.

“Forgive me, but I require some assistance.” She said, her voice sending ripples of electric desire through Charlie’s spine, even with the formal nature of the words.

“N-not at all. Happy to help.” Charlie stammered, feeling a quiver start in his gut as he struggled to gather the courage to speak to her.

She lifted one hand, holding a high-heeled shoe that was more of a piece of artwork than footwear. The stiletto heel was almost six inches in height. Narrow strips of bottle-green leather held the foot in place around the back and sides, while long strings of glittering gemstones, alternating green and clear and sparkling even in the fading light of the evening, ran from the front of the foot, just below the ankle, over the arch and down to separate each toe.

“I cannot replace my shoe. Would you mind…?” The Asari asked.

Charlie almost snatched the shoe out of her hands, his own shaking with nervousness as he knelt down to help her out. She lifted a petite, perfectly moulded foot to allow him to put the shoe on. His quivering hands slid the shoe onto her foot, his fingertips jumping at the feel of her silky smooth skin. The toes, their nails painted a vivid scarlet to match her sultry lips, quivered at his touch as she giggled girlishly.

“Careful,” She cautioned flirtatiously, her voice a sultry purr. “I am ticklish.”

Charlie almost swallowed his tongue as she continued to twitch and giggle under his touch. Finally, he was finished, and stood carefully. She smiled at him, lifting a hand to caress the side of his face. He saw the red-painted fingernails, perfectly complimenting her eggshell-blue fingers, so slim and so sensual at the same time. She wore a single emerald bracelet on her wrist, complemented by a ruby ring on her finger. He gulped as he noticed that it was on what Humans traditionally viewed as the wedding ring finger, although he knew enough about Asari culture to know that this did not mean the beautiful woman before him was taken. To Asari, this advertised availability and a wish to… find someone in the near future. This woman was on the prowl and, as unbelievable as it was, she seemed to have set her sights on Charlie.

“Thank you, my knight in shining armour.” Her voice was playful, inviting. “Now, to think of a way to repay you for your kindness…”

“Do you have a suggestion, my lady?” Charlie asked, heart doing a back-flip at his audacity. How dare he even try to flirt with someone so clearly out of his league!

“Perhaps my associate here can see that you get what is coming to you.” The Asari said, her smile turning more predatory.

It was only then that Charlie became aware of the presence behind him. He turned around, only for a fist to strike him in the face. Even with his helmet on, he felt the impact, and went staggering away.

Jacob saw the guard reach for his communicator, part of his helmet’s systems.

“Oh no you don’t.” The ex-Cerberus soldier said firmly, swiping at him again. He cuffed Charlie on the head again, this time knocking the helmet loose. The helmet clanked to the ground, commlink still inactive.

Charlie looked up in fear, the recent blow to the head causing him to see double. He tried to drop into a wrestler’s crouch, ready for the next attack, but was too off-balance to catch the foot aimed at his gut. The soldier’s armoured boot drove the air from his lungs, causing him to curl up around his injured body. As his head lowered in reaction to the pain, Jacob finished him off with a swift jab to the back of the head, knocking him out cold.

Jacob crouched next to the unconscious guard, beginning to strip off his armour. As he worked, he turned to his Asari companion. A grin spread across his face as he worked.

“’My knight in shining armour’?” he chuckled.

“Not another word, Jacob.” Samara replied curtly.

“Got to say,” Jacob continued, donning the fallen Charlie’s chest plate. It was a tight fit, but he managed it. “You really carry off the whole femme fatale thing. I’ve seen Miranda at work, and she’s good, but you could rival her easily. That part about you being ticklish was pure gold. He nearly had a stroke when you said that!”

“I would rather you did not discuss my… proficiency in this task with the rest of the crew, Mister Taylor.” The Asari said firmly.

“Alright.” Jacob said grudgingly. He slipped on the last of the armour, retrieving the dropped helmet and snapping it into place on his head. “How do I look?”

“No more intelligent than usual.” Samara replied snippily. “You should blend in well with these guards.”

“Whoa, what was that for?” Jacob asked in a hurt tone.

“I liked my line about the ‘knight in shining armour’. I do not appreciate being mocked for it.” She smiled, showing it was all in good-natured jesting. “After all, the entire crew is familiar with your ‘heavy risk’ chat up lines.”

“Hey, that worked. Once. Sort of.” The soldier said defensively.

“Come. We must not be late.”

Jacob set off first, making his way through the final couple of streets leading up to the Lawson estate. He approached the vast doors leading into the mansion, stopping as a guard walked up to him.

“You took your time!” He said angrily.

“Traffic was bad, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Here’s the guest list. Keep anyone not on the list from getting in. I’ll keep an eye out for anyone enjoying themselves a little too much.” The second door guard passed him a datapad with names on it.

Jacob scanned the names, going about ‘his job’ as expected. The datapad had a small scanner in it, designed to read the ID of each guest approaching, setting off an alarm in Jacob and the other guard’s suits if they weren’t meant to be there. When the other guard wasn’t looking, Jacob cautiously entered the necessary additional names. In moments, the datapad had five extra names on it: Samara, Delexia Tanis, Kasumi Goto, Jacqueline Nought, and Mr Solomon Gunn. The Commander had wisely decided to arrive under a false name, wearing a modded omnitool to testify to his fake identity. Jack, obviously, needed something more than just ‘Jack’ under her entry on the guest list, and ‘Subject Zero’ was bound to raise a few eyebrows. The rest of the squad remained unknown to the general populace of the Galaxy, and could therefore keep their real names.

Moments later, Samara stalked into view. As she passed through the gates leading up to the mansion, all partygoers gathering at the main door stopped to look in her direction. The ex-Justicar drew the gaze of everyone present, and even Jacob found himself hard-pressed not to stare. Every last male, and even some of the women in the crowd stared after her lustfully, entranced by her ethereal beauty.

As she approached the doors, Jacob’s pulse quickened. Now was the moment of truth. Would she be allowed to enter, or would the guest list identify her as an intruder?

He almost sagged with relief as she entered without a problem, the datapad in his hand notifying him that she was now present. He stared after her, only partly out of concern for her wellbeing. He watched as her bare back swayed through the crowd inside sinuously, her dress only just serving to cover her shapely hips and posterior before giving way to smooth, well-toned blue flesh. As she walked away, something caught the young soldier’s eye. Along the length of her spine, intertwining around themselves like the helix shape of a strand of DNA, two lines of mystical characters could be seen tattooed into her flesh. He wondered at the strange marking, before noting the distrustful and surprised looks some of the Asari present were giving her and remembering someone mentioning that her exile had branded her in more ways than one. Clearly, this was yet another of the marks of her exile that she had to bear.

“Heh. I’m not sure about ‘embracing eternity’ with that one, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind one night!” The other guard chuckled, stepping up next to Jacob and following his gaze.

“You know it.” Jacob said, not really wanting to get into a discussion with him about this, especially not when it was one of his closest friends that they were talking about. “Hey, you know what? I’ve got this. Take a break, find a guest with an open mind, and enjoy the drinks.”

“R-really? You sure?”

“Yeah. Watchin’ the door ain’t difficult.”

“Alright. Thanks, buddy.” The guard waved as he slunk off, looking for a quiet corner to prop himself up in while he tried out the drinks on offer at the party.

Jacob relaxed even more. His job was a whole lot easier now that he was the only one watching the front door. He straightened to attention, watching the arrivals with little interest.

About ten minutes after Samara made her entrance, the Normandy’s skycar hummed into view. The hatch opened to allow the commander to step out, followed by his team. As the skycar began to move off, Jacob caught a glimpse of Zaeed at the controls, Kaidan sitting beside him. The skycar buzzed off into the night, although Jacob was all too aware that it wasn’t going far.

The Commander gave him a subtle nod as he walked by, Jacob’s work with the guest list letting him in with no trouble. After the Commander had gone inside, Jacob turned his attention back to the stream of socialites arriving.

~o~0~o~

~SHEPARD~

The Commander led his team through the crowds of Bekenstein’s most prominent, ever aware for any threats to his cover. He felt tense, having to go into a dangerous situation like this with nothing in the way of offensive weaponry except for a tiny pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers in the small of his back.

“This is not going to ****ing wo-ork.” Jack muttered in a sing-song fashion as they wandered through the mansion’s entrance.

“Just keep cool.” Shepard assured. “We can do this.”

They made their way through the lobby and emerged into the main hall. Shepard paused for a moment to take in the grandeur of the massive room.

The ceiling was incredibly high, at least three stories up, but even from that distance Shepard could see the intricate shapes that had been sculpted into it, an immense tapestry of artwork, from sprawling floral patterns to tiny carvings of cherubs and the like. The whole thing seemed to be held up by immense pillars lining each side of the hall, massive columns more in line with Greek architecture than the rest of the room called for. Tiers of balconies reached out from the walls, allowing people on the second and third floors to mill about above those on the ground floor. Where the walls were not taken up by columns or balconies, valuable pieces of artwork had been put up. Tapestries, paintings and the occasional alcove containing a sculpture testified to the immense wealth of the owner.

“My god… Just look at all this!” Kasumi breathed. “Just a fraction of this stuff could be used to buy a planet ten times over!”

“Just remember what we’re here for, Kasumi.” Shepard cautioned.

“Oh! That’s… it’s one of Forta’s first sculptures!” The little thief gasped. “They’ve gone up in value since he died last year. You could completely refit the Normandy for what that’s worth.”

“I think you might have lost her, Shepard.” Delexia chuckled. “Should have known better than to take a thief to a rich man’s house.”

“So long as she doesn’t try to pocket anything, we’ll be fine.” Shepard muttered. He watched Kasumi drift amongst the artwork in a trance.

Kasumi wore a striking purple kimono, patterned with images of cranes soaring in mid-flight. The long, silky garment reached down to her ankles, offering a glimpse of her zori sandals, an oriental shoe somewhat akin to flip-flops. Her arms were encased in long, wide sleeves, the length of which extended towards the floor, as was appropriate for her unmarried status. The obi, or sash around her waist, sported a twisting pattern of black and royal blue, complimenting the stronger purple of the rest of her outfit very well.

Her shoulder-length hair had been tied up in a bun, into which she had inserted two Kogai, jade pins that held her hairstyle secure and served a decorative purpose, ribbons of white, purple and royal blue silk trailing from the bun down the nape of her neck and over her upper back. To compliment her choices in outfit colours, her lips had been coloured with the same rich purple hue she normally used to create the strip on her lower lip. Her eyes were outlined and enhanced with black eyeliner and mascara, in sharp contrast with her soft, pale features.

Shepard was unused to actually being able to see the young thief’s face, so frequently did she hide her features within the hood of her preferred outfit. She was startlingly beautiful, large almond-shaped eyes complementing the small nose and soft but well-defined cheekbones. Two pale white ears, perfectly rounded, peeked out from within the raven-black tresses of glimmering hair. Shepard understood now why Jacob became so awkward and his speech became stilted in her presence.

Eyes the colour of hazel widened in surprise as she gazed up at a nearby painting.

“A genuine Tael’Nayea! It was thought they were all destroyed during the Geth uprising. There can’t be more than a couple of these in existence now.”

“Kasumi, focus.” Shepard prompted.

“Right, right…” She said absently, walking away from the painting while looking over her shoulder.

“We’re not here to add to your collection, Goto.” Delexia warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kasumi replied quickly. “Stealing art from a guy like this is no fun. It’s more fun when you steal from the ones who keep these things all to themselves, in some vault somewhere. A guy like Lawson, you want to steal his advantages over his rivals. That’s where he’s really sensitive.”

“You were pretty eager to get at Hock’s collection.” Shepard commented.

“Hock was a greedy man. Lawson’s more of an arrogant one. Different faults, different priorities, different ways to get at them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Shepard chuckled.

“What’s the game plan, Comm- I mean, Mr Gunn?” Delexia asked, a grin on her face as she used the Commander’s assumed name.

Shepard turned to look at the Turian. Delexia stood head and shoulders above the rest of the squad, but she did not look any less the part of a graceful socialite. Her pearl-white dress transformed her angular, lanky frame into one full of flowing beauty. White sleeves that ended in wide, flaring cuffs studded with glimmering silvery-white gems, giving the impression that her cuffs had been spattered with radiant rain. The flowing hem of her dress, reaching the floor and trailing along behind her, was patterned in a similar way, hiding her feet from view and giving the impression that she travelled on a cloud of roiling snowflakes. A royal blue sash had been bound around her waist, the two ends of it draped down by her side, reaching down to her awkwardly-shaped ankles.

A shimmering curtain of silver and platinum was draped over the back of her head, attached to her short fringe and reaching down towards the nape of her neck, the ends shaped much like a male Turian’s fringe. At the end of each length of glimmering metal dangled a single light-blue gemstone, forming a V-shape of pale blue reaching from ear to ear and extending to the uppermost tip of her spine. The overall effect gave the impression that one of the Turians’ spirits walked among the living. Shepard was not surprised to notice that even some of the Humans in the room were staring.

“Mix in with the crowd, and wait for Legion’s signal.” He instructed, keeping his voice low as a cluster of Humans walked past them. “Do what you can to blend in, but make sure to keep your heads clear.” He turned to Jack pointedly. “No draining the bar.”

“Spoilsport.” She muttered.

“If you get talking to anyone, make sure they don’t lead you out of here. Stay within sight of each other at all times.”

“Got it.”

“Sure thing, Shep.”

“Hell yeah.”

Delexia and Kasumi wandered off into the crowd. Shepard made to do the same, but felt a restraining hand at his elbow. He turned back to Jack.

“Where do you think you’re going, Boy Scout?”

“Gonna go mingle. Why?” Shepard asked. “Got a problem with that?”

“I’m not in the mood to have a line of rich pricks thinkin’ I’m open to a quick screw and linin’ up to try out their crappy chat-up routine. We stick together, I don’t have to put up with that.” She smirked. “Besides, it’s been ages since I’ve had a chance to dance.”

“You know how to dance?” Shepard asked incredulously.

“Hey, I can be cultured when I feel like it.” She smiled, leading him towards the centre of the room, where a large portion of the partygoers shuffled about in a lacklustre fashion.

“Where’d you learn?”

“Illium. Veserra Dantius’ Performing Arts Academy.”

“An Asari dance school? How the hell could you afford that?”

“Never said I paid for ‘em.” She chuckled.

“I was hiding in the basements. Murtock and I hit the wrong convoy, pissed off a few of the wrong people.” She lowered her voice to a murmur as they strode into the crowd, already beginning to move with the music, her confident manner drawing Shepard along. “Spent a few months there waiting for things to cool off. While we were there, I spent a few days watching the classes, in the vents, under the floors, hell once even just hid behind the stage curtains, only a few feet away from the students. Picked up a few tricks. Liiiike this!”

She twirled, moving with a fluidity Shepard would never have credited the convict with. Shepard’s pace faltered as he watched her in awe, just remaining aware enough to catch her with one outstretched arm as she flowed around him, thrilling at the close press of their bodies.

He took a moment to appreciate Jack’s new look. Her outfit was simply stunning, and bore an elegance completely out of sync with her usual attire. Naturally, Jack had almost growled when it had been suggested she do something with her hair, possibly with temporary follicle implants, so her customary shaved style remained. However, she had allowed Kelly to apply some makeup to cover over her more disquieting tattoos, such as the prisoner identification numbers and various serial numbers from her time in Cerberus’ labs. On the whole, it didn’t do much to change her confrontational appearance, but it did make it a little less likely that anyone would make the connection between her and one of the most wanted criminals in the Terminus Systems.

The biotic wore a rather slick red dress. It shimmered, run through with shades of gold and green. The dress left her upper back exposed, allowing the Omega tattoo to peek out for all to see. At the front, the dress reached up to her neck, fastened with a red choker, while the sleeves began just below the exposed shoulders, ending at her hands in fingerless gloves. Her fingernails had been painted a glossy dark red, almost a black colour with the slightest ruby sheen to it. The hem of her dress dangled about halfway past her shins, allowing a glimpse of her muscled legs. She even had tattoos down there. Amidst the scars and medical markings, Shepard could make out at least ten new tattoos he had never seen before, including a series of stripes that could have been the segments of a spinal cord, like those on her arms, or perhaps the stripes of a tiger. One interesting marking he noticed was a small rune on the left calf. What was interesting was the fact that he recognised it as Quarian.

To complete the outfit, she wore a pair of scarlet stiletto heels, much more dainty than her usual heavy boots. The heels themselves were almost knife blades, they narrowed to such a severe point.

“I can feel you staring, pervert.” She muttered as he held her close, the duo moving through the dance floor as one.

“You know you like it.” He chuckled back. She grinned as he spun her around, holding one of her hands above her head as she spun, red dress flaring out around her like a whirling dervish.

“So what now, Boss Man?”

“Just… enjoy the moment.” He murmured. “We’re waiting on Legion now. I just hope Grunt hasn’t run into any trouble delivering the package.”

~o~0~o~

~GRUNT~

The cargo transport trundled through the streets, making its way to the Lawson mansion as the sky above turned from a dim blue to the deep purple and black of night. As the massive six-wheeled vehicle bounced over a large manhole, Grunt found himself shifting around in his seat, the tiny Human-designed chair barely accommodating his frame.

Damned stupid Human-centric design. He cursed inwardly. Might as well try to sit in a teacup.

The Human in the driver’s seat continued his mindless chatter. Since the Krogan had boarded the cargo vehicle, he had insisted on trying to engage Grunt in conversation. Grunt had simply ignored him.

“…so then I said to her ‘You ain’t the boss of me. I’m done taking orders from you.’ Then I stormed out and I- Oh, we’re here.” He interrupted his own inane ramblings.

“Thank the Void. I thought that would never end.” Grunt rumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s get these crates unloaded.”

“I gotta say, it’s great having a Krogan help me here. Got no clue how Stan managed to convince the higher ups to pay for another set of hands, but with a big ‘un like yourself, we’ll get the back of this thing emptied out in no time!”

The pair hopped out of the cab, walking up to the tall black iron gates that were the freight entrance of the Lawson estate. Beyond, Grunt could see a driveway leading up to the back of the mansion, wending its way through the grounds between the wall and the mansion. It sickened the Krogan to see so much ground not being put to use properly. None of the plants being cultivated were edible, and some were in fact poisonous. A massive pond, more of a small lake, was situated to one side, and he was sure he saw the flicker of a fish bobbing up to the surface. The lack of buildings around it made it clear that all of this fresh, clean water was not for drinking, but just for looking at.

He couldn’t believe it. And worse, the house at the heart of this estate, which could have easily housed over two hundred Krogan warriors in comfort, was only home to one man, plus his servants. Had this been a Krogan colony world, the wasteful shrine to extravagance would have been levelled to make way for an anti-aircraft gun emplacement, at the least.

He turned his attention to the gate itself. There were actually two gates, an internal one and an external one. They were separated by a gap of about five metres. Grunt could see through the gates that the walls around that small space were bristling with scanners, as was the ceiling above. He had no doubts that there were pressure plates and innumerable imaging devices in the ground underneath as well. Anything going through there would be thoroughly examined by digital eyes a thousand times more perceptive than an organic’s.

The Human strode up to a panel next to the gate, tapping on it impatiently. Finally his call for assistance was answered.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He spoke loudly, going silent for a moment as he listened to the voice on the other end. “That’s right, I’m attacking the walls. What do you think I’m here for? Now open up. It’s gonna get bloody freezing out here and I want to get this done.”

He sighed as the panel went dark. After a few moments, a quiet thrumming could be heard. Grunt looked up the driveway to see a handful of small load lifters racing out to meet them. The internal gate opened, and the first load-lifter went through, waiting in the scanning area as countless lights flickered on and off around it. After ten seconds, there was a beep and the external gate opened, allowing the first lifter through. The rest all performed the same routine, until finally every last lifter was through.

Grunt was impressed. Given the care with which this Victor Lawson’s people went about their duties, he had little doubt in even so much as a fly flew through the scanning area, they’d know about it.

Another Human got out of the first lifter. He greeted Grunt’s driver before turning and formally greeting the Krogan. Grunt could smell the fear he experienced at seeing a creature as big as himself so close by and he practically grinned when he thought about it. The new Human identified himself, but Grunt didn’t bother to memorise his name. The big Krogan just didn’t care.

“Right, let’s get on with it, then.” Grunt’s driver said, clapping his hands together.

A cluster of Humans clambered out of the other load lifters, stepping over to the transport and setting about their task. Grunt helped, lifting crates with one hand that would have required at least four of the aliens around him. He had to struggle not to sneer scornfully as he carried these heavy loads as though they were nothing.

Finally, only a few crates remained in the transport. Grunt lifted one, and all-too-familiar container. It had the symbol of a wrench on the side, showing it was destined for the maintenance storage area within the mansion’s basement. He carefully placed the crate on the nearest load lifter with en empty slot, dusting his hands off as he stepped back.

Both of the Krogan’s hearts jumped as one of the Humans, the one who had spoken to his driver and apparently the leader of this group, clamped a hand down on the crate. He began to undo the bolts holding it closed.

“What are you doing?” Grunt growled, a little more consternation in his voice than he wanted to show.

“Standard procedure now. Scanner has glitched a couple of times this past month. Boss wants us to check a handful of the incoming crates manually, just to make sure there’s no contraband. Better to check twice than fall flat on our arse once, right?”

“Right.” The Krogan mumbled, feeling a trickle of sweat run down inside his bulky armour.

The Human began to pry the lid of the crate open, and grunt felt his stomachs twist into tighter and tighter knots. His fists balled as his Geth ally drew closer and closer to being discovered. If they were found out, the mission would be a bust, and his Battlemaster would be in danger.

“Hey, Ryan!”

A shout from one of the other Humans made Grunt jump. The one opening Legion’s crate turned inquisitively.

“Wouldn’t we be better to check the food crates? That ‘un’s headed for the tech wing. If anyone’s got trouble planned for tonight, they’ll be messin’ with the food.”

“Good point.” ‘Ryan’ conceded, lowering the lid on the crate. Grunt caught a peek of the smooth rounded cranium of a Geth platform through the opening before it resealed. The Human fastened down the bolts again, not having even bothered to look in as he was opening it. He moved over to one of the crates of supplies for the party, opening it and reaching inside.

“Hey, guys!” He suddenly shouted out. Grunt was too relieved to really take any notice. ‘Ryan’ stood back up, his arms filled with a selection of bottles. “Check it out! This is some good Asari stuff!”

“We’re not meant to take any of this, Ryan.” One Human commented.

“Hey, a coupla bottles won’t hurt. ‘sides, we don’t exactly get tips. Think of this as our New Year’s bonus.”

“New Year ain’t for another seven months, you moron.” One of his associates cackled.

“Whatever. You want a drink or don’t you?” ‘Ryan’ turned to Grunt. “There’s a bottle in it for yourself, if you’re interested.”

“No thanks.” Grunt replied. “The stuff you aliens drink never hits the spot for me.”

“I guess not.” The driver said, reaching out and taking one of the pilfered bottles. “Friend o’ mine tried one of your Krogan drinks, was ****tin’ his brains out for the next month. I imagine there’s not much as can match up to that.”

The Humans from the estate said their farewells and boarded their load lifters. The smaller vehicles moved away from the cargo transport, the first one heading back through the gate. Legion’s crate was on the fourth lifter.

The driver turned to Grunt.

“That’s our last delivery. I’m gonna head back to the depot now. You need a lift anywhere?”

“I’m good. Gonna walk. Got a place I can go not too far from here.”

“Really? Well ain’t you got some swanky connections.” The Human laughed. “Alright buddy. Thanks for the help.”

Grunt watched as the transport moved away, then turned back to the gate. The second lifter had moved through, and the third was manoeuvring its way through the external gate.

The burly Krogan shambled off down the street a ways, finding a secluded spot to watch from. The third lifter went through the internal gate, and the fourth began to move towards the Lawson estate. Grunt watched tensely as Legion’s crate approached the scanners. It was all up to Feron now.

Modifié par fainmaca, 20 mai 2011 - 12:40 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 27: Shepard's Fifteen, Part 2

~FERON~

The sewers echoed with the sounds of water dripping down from overhead. The ancient brick walls that lined the circular shaft were covered with a thick layer of pale white calcium, some of which hung down from overhead in long spindly stalactites, accompanied by matching stalagmites reaching up from the floor. As he walked past, he caught his hand on one of the thin towers of calcium, and it snapped in two. Clearly the sewers hadn’t been here long enough for proper formations to build up, leaving only these soft, crumbly imitations.

Feron felt an irritating itch growing in his chest, a side effect of having to breathe in such humid air. His Drell physiology was ill-suited to being down here, but fortunately if everything went right he wouldn’t have to stay long.

The diameter of the sewer shaft was little more than the height of a fully grown man, so Feron could just about stand up straight, having to bow down to dodge the icicles of stone hanging from the ceiling.

The Drell was grateful for the fact that the sewer hadn’t been used for quite some time. It meant that the worst he had to be prepared to step in was a patch of damp mud or, once, what looked like it had been a kind of rat, albeit a rat with six legs.

He consulted his omnitool again, making sure he was on course. Elanie had provided a map of the sewer network, but it was all too easy to lose your bearings in a maze like this. It was here that Feron found his perfect memory really coming into play, allowing him to recall exactly how many steps he had taken, where and when he had gone left and right and any and all landmarks he passed.

His map informed him that he only had a few more turns in the shaft ahead before he reached the part of the network underneath the Lawson estate, where he should expect to start seeing the ancient, run-down passages give way to carefully maintained, secure corridors. Processing this new information, he slowed down, his footsteps so light that they faded into silence in comparison to the dripping noises that echoed all around.

He crept forwards, easing his way around the next corner and looking towards the first of his obstacles. His bottle-green eyes narrowed as he analysed the situation.

Two guards stood to attention, rifles in their hands as they remained alert. A hazy orange barrier had been erected just behind them, bristling with power. The security field completely sealed off the passageway, and the controls were on the far side. Seeing this, Feron drew back into hiding before he was spotted, and tried to think his way around the obstacle.

He dialled up his omnitool, skimming through the list of illegal upgrades he had applied to the tiny device. Finally he found the one he desired. His kinetic barrier flickered as it’s field shifted. The light around the Drell shimmered as the Mass Effect Field twisted, altering to a light-bending field not too different from his cloaking device. It was a relatively untested modification, one Liara had discovered was being researched on Noveria. The theory behind the modification was that, if a cloaking device could bend light around a person, then theoretically other forms of energy could be similarly manipulated, specifically security fields and atmospheric barriers. In this way, a person enclosed within the field could pass through a destructive security field without being injured. The one downside was that the field could not bend multiple types of energy at the same time: his cloak would not function while he was moving through the security field. To compensate, he set the two different modes for his field to simple hotkeys, ready to switch between the two as quickly and simply as snapping his fingers.

This done, he looked back around the corner. The guards stood stock-still, barely having moved since he had last glimpsed them. These men were professionals, not allowing idle chit-chat to distract their focus.

The Drell pulled back, looking around for something to use. His eyes settled on a stalagmite close to him, the long finger of soft stone reaching up almost to the height of his waist. He reached out and grabbed it, twisting his wrist to snap off a piece some seven or eight inches in length. He weighed it in his hand, drawing back a closed fist and lobbing the rock. It hit the far wall with a sharp clink.

Around the corner, the guards twitched at the loud noise, their rifles snapping around to point up the passageway. Without a word, they began to cautiously stalk up towards the corner where Feron waited. As they drew near, he activated his cloak, vanishing from sight.

The two guards moved slowly around the corner, weapons pointing towards the darkest corners of the shaft as they moved forwards.

Feron drew in a sharp, silent breath as one of the guards moved past his invisible form, not two feet from where he stood. His spine curled as he pressed himself back into the curve of the sewer wall, flattening himself as much as possible against the stone.

The guards moved past, still scanning the sewer as carefully as they could. Once he had a chance, the Drell darted behind them, racing around the corner and heading straight for the security field. He tapped a command on hit ‘tool, and his barrier shifted from bending light to a different frequency. He paused for a moment before the field, taking a deep breath before pressing on.

The field curled around him, cocooning him in an incandescent screen of orange light. The field bulged outwards both ways, a Drell-shaped bubble forming in its centre to accommodate him. The stinging itch was incredible, a sensation that assaulted every part of his body. He almost imagined that being killed by the field would have been better. It almost, but not quite, made him stagger back, but he pushed against it, feeling the field before him like an elastic sheet. He shoved and suddenly burst through, almost tumbling to the floor as the resistance shifted from being before him to being behind him. He gasped as the field released him, breath coming in short gasps thanks to the raw power surging through his system.

He staggered forwards a few steps, turning back to look at the field. The orange sheet of energy rippled like a pool of water. As he watched, it settled. He tensed as he heard the sounds of the guards returning.

“Probably just another of them rats. Nothin’ to worry about.” One muttered as he turned the corner.

Feron scrabbled at his omnitool, hastily finding the button to switch back to his cloak, disappearing from sight just as the guards moved into view. He waited a moment to make sure he hadn’t been seen, and then moved away from the security field.

He wove his way through the passages underneath the edge of the Lawson estate, frequently consulting his map as he found himself having to make his way around guard patrols or if he found that a passageway had been blocked off.

At last he found the section he needed. Wires lined the ceiling, transmitting data from the security scanners on the gates.

He pulled out his toolkit and reached up to the wires on the ceiling. He chose a small box-shaped device with a tiny screen on it and a wire trailing out of the side, ending in what looked like a long needle. He lined the needle up with the thickest of the wires and carefully pushed it through the plastic that covered it, making contact with the wire inside. Once he had made contact with the wire, he pushed a button on the device, causing it to flare to life.

His omnitool beeped, making contact with the device. He lifted his wrist, staring at the display that popped up. As he worked, he listened carefully for any sound of a guard patrol approaching.

Working....

Working...

Encrypted security network detected. Attempt firewall bypass?

Confirmation received. Beginning process.

Feron began moving the nodes that appeared on his 'tool, easily breezing past the network's security.

Access granted. Analysing network functions. Alert, transmissions intercepted. Display?

Confirmation received. Downloading security scans.

Feron watched as the scans came up, showing him a series of empty load lifters passing through the gate up above.

Halt transmission?

Negative. Sending... Done.

Feron smiled as he navigated the system. He watched the load lifters move through, vetting each transmission on its way to the estate's security centre. After a few minutes, the lifters began coming back through, this time fully loaded. He watched as lifters filled with crates of food, drink and at one point parts for a skycar passed through the checkpoint, waiting anxiously for the crate containing Legion to pass through.

He jumped as he heard a pair of approaching footsteps. His head snapped around towards the source of the noise to see some shifting shadows from around the nearest corner. A guard patrol was approaching.

Alert, transmissions intercepted. Display?

Confirmation received. Downloading.

A new image flickered up on his omnitool and his heart fluttered as he spotted the distinctive shape of a Geth platform folded up in one of the crates. His eyes darted from the image to the corner from around which the guards were approaching. He had little time.

He tapped out a few commands on his 'tool, feverishly working to finish before he was discovered.

Command received. Altering scan results.

Processing...

Processing...

Done.

Send?

The guards were drawing very close. He could hear these two chatting to one another, obviously more relaxed than the ones at the security field.

“Bull****.”

“No it's true! At least six feet long!”

“None of the rats get that big.”

“This one was different. Musta been a mutant or something. When it looked at me, its eyes were... evil. It's the only word to describe that stare.”

“You hit the Batarian brandy too hard. You were probably seeing a bunch of purple Krogan, too.”

Feron's pulse raced as their voices grew louder and louder. He hurriedly turned back to his tool, a wave of satisfaction running through him as he saw that the image had been altered correctly. Now the image showed only a crate full of shuttle parts. He quickly pressed send.

Sending...

Sending...

Done.

With a triumphant finality, he deactivated the device, pulling it from the ceiling and stashing it in his belt. He tapped another command on his 'tool and once again vanished from sight.

The guards rounded the corner just as he vanished, walking past him as though he wasn't there. He breathed a sigh of relief before heading off down the corridor, looking for another point to access the security systems. Even though Legion had passed through the security scanners, there was still work for the Drell to do, keeping their foes blind to the Normandy crew's activities outside of Victor Lawson's mansion.

Back above ground, Grunt watched as the load lifter carrying Legion passed through the gate without a hitch, making its way towards the mansion. The Krogan turned and walked off into the night, heading for the place he had agreed to meet the extraction team. The Geth was on its own now.

~o~0~o~


~LEGION~

Alert. Accelerometer registers significant deceleration. Probability of arrival at destination: eighty-two point four per cent.

Legion's runtimes buzzed around in the platform, processing all the information currently available to them through passive sensors. They had powered down the exterior functions of the platform for the duration of their journey to the estate in an attempt to reduce any signals it emitted that could be detected. Thus, they had relied upon audio sensors and the platform's accelerometer to judge how they were progressing towards their objective.

Motion detected. Six point three eight feet upwards, followed by movement two point four three degrees north for a distance of three point two oh feet. Now moving two hundred sixty four point one nine degrees west at a speed of three point one feet per second. Probability of removal from cargo transportation vehicle: ninety-eight point seven per cent. Additional possibility: Forcible removal from vehicle by criminal entity.

Course of action?

Achieving consensus...

Consensus achieved. Maintain current covert infiltration tactics.

Alert! Unknown entity attempting to gain access to container. Probability of allied interference: zero point one seven per cent. Start up combat protocols?

Achieving consensus…

Consensus not achieved.

The lid of the container popped off above the Geth, allowing dim light to stream in.

“What are you doing?”

Analysing voiceprint… Analysis complete. Krogan ally, designation ‘Grunt’.

“Standard procedure now. Scanner has glitched a couple of times this past month. Boss wants us to check a handful of the incoming crates manually, just to make sure there’s no contraband. Better to check twice than fall flat on our arse once, right?”

Analysing voiceprint… Analysis complete. Human, male, identity unknown. Friendly status uncertain.

Consensus achieved. Assume hostiles. Combat protocols starting up.

“Right.” Grunt replied.

Stress-levels in allied unit’s voice indicate possibility of discovery. Threat level elevated to priority beta. Covert operations maintain priority alpha. Do not initiate hostile actions.

“Hey, Ryan!”

Human, male, identity unknown.

“Wouldn’t we be better to check the food crates? That ‘un’s headed for the tech wing. If anyone’s got trouble planned for tonight, they’ll be messin’ with the food.”

Likelihood of new targets’ affiliation with Lawson estate: sixty eight point six six per cent.

“Good point.”

Initial target’s identity confirmed as ‘Ryan’. Likelihood new targets’ identities as staff on Lawson estate raised to eighty two per cent.

Additional: cargo container resealed. Operation remains uncompromised. Powering down weapons systems.

The crate jostled along, clearly being moved around on a vehicle of some kind. The gentle motion stopped after a short distance.

Alert! Aggressive scans detected. X-ray, infrared, electro-magnetic band, ultraviolet and radio frequencies detected. Likelihood of detection without allied interference: one hundred per cent.

Assessing capabilities of Drell ally, designation ‘Feron’. Considering: covert infiltration specialisation, combined with innate Drell abilities and technology supplied by Asari ally, designation ‘Liara’. Comparing to mission parameters: Known secure defence network, potentially unknown surroundings and narrow window of opportunity.

Calculating…

Calculating…

Chances of success versus chances of failure: one to one. Either outcome equally likely.

Scans complete. Awaiting indication of hostile action.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Waiting…

Achieving consensus…

Consensus achieved. Drell unit’s mission successful. Covert status remains uncompromised.

The crate resumed its unpredictable shifting once more, obviously traversing the distance between the gate and the rear of the mansion. The Geth recalled a map of the estate’s grounds, poring over the finer details. They focused in on the driveway leading up to the back door, following its winding route as the vehicle progressed.

Motion halted. Arrival at rear of Target Lawson’s domicile recorded. Sending databurst to allied ship in orbit.

Sending… Done.

Proceeding with covert infiltration.

The crate shifted uncertainly as it was lifted off the transport, two men grunting as they tried to manhandle it down to the ground. Eventually the motion eased as they got onto level ground, and began to carry the heavy crate into the mansion.

Manual transport detected. Likelihood of successful infiltration of Target Lawson’s domicile: ninety five point oh one per cent. Amplifying auditory input.

“Gah! What do they put in these goddamn things? This ‘un must weigh a ton!”

Human, male, identity unknown.

“Put your back into it! If we finish early, we can crack open those bottles we found.”

Human, male, identity confirmed as ‘Ryan’.

“Woah, wait. This box has got to go to the sub-levels.” The other man continued.

“Stick it in the elevator, then. Let the boys downstairs take care of it.” Ryan answered.

The crate jostled a few more times as it was awkwardly manoeuvred into the elevator. After a few moments, there was the sound of a door hissing shut and the Geth platform’s accelerometer measured a sudden increase in speed in a downward direction.

Descent registered. Descending five metres below ground level, ten metres, twenty metres. Downward momentum decreasing.

Registering arrival in sub-level of Target Lawson’s domicile. Attempting to upload status update to allied ship in orbit.

Sending…

Sending…

Sending…

Error. Status update not sent.

Running diagnostic upon internal comm systems.

Running…

Running…

Done. No fault detected. Attempting to upload status update.

Sending…

Sending…

Sending…

Error. Status update not sent.

Analysing. Lab environment combined with potentially illegal genetic research. Likelihood of passive comm interference as part of standard operations: sixty four point five three per cent. Statistically probable conclusion: This platform must now operate without connection to allied ship if mission parameters are to be fulfilled.

Calculating most logical course…

Done. Danger presented to integrity of this platform increases with every temporal unit spent out of contact. Current risk of permanent damage to this platform and contained runtimes: fifteen point nine percent. Strategically logical to exfiltrate back to Normandy, return with improved comm array.

Error. Such a course will result in mission failure. Observed behavioural patterns indicate Shepard-Commander will refuse to exfiltrate until mission parameters have been fulfilled. Additional observed behavioural patterns suggest all allied units engaged in operation will remain with Shepard-Commander for duration of operation.

Achieving consensus…

Consensus achieved. Safety of Shepard-Commander holds higher priority than safety of this platform. Proceed with infiltration of Target Lawson’s domicile.

All of this cold reasoning took place in less time than it took for a man’s heart to beat. As the Geth settled itself down to wait for the opportune moment to move out, the doors to the elevator opened and the two staff on duty turned to look at the crate inside.

“Huh. Didn’t realise we were due another delivery just yet.” One commented.

Analysis: Human, female, identity unknown. Possible Scottish-British ethnic origin.

“They’re meant to be getting some parts for the boss’s skycar today. Probably just sent one box to the wrong department.” The other muttered. “Let’s shove it in storage for now, deal with it later.”

Human, male, identity unknown. Possibly originally from colony known as Eden Prime.

The crate shifted again and, after a final few moments, it was dumped rather unceremoniously onto a hard metal floor. The Geth waited for a while, listening through the platform’s auditory sensors for any sign of possible enemies nearby.

Lack of auditory input suggests opportune time to proceed with next stage of mission. Increasing sensory input to confirm…

The platform began to power up, it’s small-scale sensory suite scanning the room beyond the crate. The Geth perceived no infrared signatures, no radio signals and no electro-magnetic fields. Satisfied, it surged back to full power.

Auxiliary systems coming back on line. Full power restored to motor functions. Continuing with infiltration.

The bolts on the lid of the crate popped open, allowing the sides to fold down gracefully, revealing the Geth platform, curled up in what would have been a foetal position, had it not carefully balanced itself on its feet. With a whirr, the metal limbs unfolded themselves and the machine stood up to its full height.

Moving slowly, the Geth platform stepped up to the door to the storeroom. In seconds, tendrils of orange light emanated from it’s hands towards the door controls, effortlessly hacking into the system. Almost instantaneously, the doors hissed open.

Legion gazed out into the corridor beyond cautiously, making sure the way was clear. After the Geth had confirmed that there were no guards or security cameras nearby, it stepped out, making its way down the corridor.

After only a few paces, the platform’s auditory sensors picked up the sounds of approaching footsteps.

Alert. Unknown entity detected. Six contacts detected. Presence of armoured combat boots. Detecting miniaturised Mass Effect Fields consistent with small arms. Probability new contacts are hostile guard patrol: seventy-eight per cent. Mission success threatened. Assume covert stance.

The Geth darted into a nearby doorway, folding itself up in a dim corner as the door hissed shut behind it.

Monitoring enemy distance. Auditory analysis indicates distance of five metres from current location. Four. Three. Two. Three Four. Five. Analysis suggests covert action was successful. Enemy guard patrol not alerted to presence. Resume domicile infiltration.

Legion continued onwards in this fashion, dodging guard patrols and moving around sections monitored by security cams. Thanks to it’s advanced sensors, the Geth was able to calculate a camera’s blind spots down to the millimetre, allowing it to move past the Lawson estate’s security systems with ease. In no time at all, it found itself approaching the doors leading to the central security control centre.

Activating infrared sensor suite. Alert. Two life forms detected within control centre. Size and shape suggests humanoid, likely Human, Batarian or Asari. Given Target Lawson’s Human-centric interests, likelihood of non-Human guards nine point five four per cent. Proceed with infiltration?

Achieving consensus…

Consensus achieved. Proceed with infiltration. Powering up combat routines. Activating electronic shock-plates within hands. Supplying non-lethal but incapacitating voltage.

This done, the sentient machine stepped through the doors to the control centre. The two Humans inside, one man and one woman, spun around at the intrusion. The man’s jaw dropped upon seeing a Geth approaching, but the woman had the presence of mind to lunge for the alarm button.

Alert. Hostile seeking to send warning transmission to hostile forces. Likelihood of mission success if enemy is alerted to the presence of hostiles within the domicile: one point nine two per cent.

Analysing target. Estimated weight: ninety two pounds. Height: five feet nine inches. Muscle tone suggests specialisation in ranged combat rather than hand-to-hand. Adjusting strategy to compensate.

All of this analysis happened before the woman could even lift herself from her seat. As she moved a fraction of the distance between her post and the alarm button, the Geth lunged forwards, striking her under the ear with a powerful punch. The cold, metallic fist struck her with a loud crack and a sizzle of sparks. Her body jolted at the contact, raw power surging through her nervous system. She slumped back into her chair, out cold.

Her companion regained just enough of his composure to flinch as the Geth spun to face him. He lifted his arms up defensively as the machine’s hands encircled his wrists tightly, sending another burst of power into him. He managed a strangled cry before he, too, fell unconscious.

As the Geth moved the two slumped bodies away from the controls, it studied the controls before it. Once it identified the necessary controls, it stood before the massive monitors that displayed the security footage of the entire estate.

Second stage of mission complete. Fulfilling additional objective of re-establishing contact with allied forces via security system’s comm network.

Contacting allied ship… done. Transmissions with allied forces in orbit resuming.

Awaiting transmission of secure codes from deployed Asari unit, designation ‘Samara’.

~o~0~o~

~SAMARA~

The centuries-old Asari was surprised with how easily navigating the currents of the gathering came to her. She felt a slight chill on her back, unused to wearing clothing such as the dress she now sported, but she still felt comfortable moving through the clusters of assembled humanoids. She was all too aware of the admiring glances she was getting, surprised that, even at her age, the allure of an Asari still ran strong.

She had yet to sight her quarry amidst the crowds, although she was sure he was there somewhere, likely watching the proceedings from some vantage point. She set to thinking about how to draw him out. This would be a delicate game of cat-and-mouse, a precise act. She had to prove herself superior to all the radiant socialites around her.

For a brief moment, her mind flickered back to that night on Omega, the painful evening she had lost her most beloved and yet most despicable offspring. Shepard had faced the task of drawing Morinth out, showing himself to be worthy prey for her darkest instincts. He had done so incredibly well, proving to be a natural at manoeuvring around a night club crowd. Her task would be similar, and yet different. She did not face the insatiable hunger of an Ardat-Yakshi, and would have to make herself appealing to similar but different drives.

She gazed around the grand hall, identifying several focal points in the crowds where she would draw the most attention. Pausing to centre her mind, she plunged into the crowds once more.

She moved through the press of people like a serene ghost, weaving her way towards the dance floor. Not once did she jostle anyone, her fluid progress uninterrupted. At last she emerged onto the dance floor, where she saw the Commander and Jack dancing together. She stood to one side, watching the dancing appreciatively.

It took less than five seconds for one potential suitor to approach her, eyes running up and down her lithe form appreciatively.

“Would the lady like to dance?” He asked as gallantly as he could, which wasn’t very much at all. However, Samara had noticed the admiring looks the other female partygoers were giving him. Clearly he had some pull among the people here.

“I would be honoured.” She answered, flashing him a winning smile that set his knees wobbling. As he took her outstretched hand and led her onto the dance floor, the ex-Justicar noted the jealous looks being thrown their way by members of both genders.

The man had some skill, she would grant him that. He moved sinuously, seamlessly, from one step to another, and she followed him. Her Maiden years spent dancing the nights away came flooding back to her, the steps springing into her mind in much the same manner one never forgets how a bicycle functions.

A large portion of the partygoers turned to watch as the duo danced, entranced by the grace of the performance. Samara bathed in their admiration, finding herself enjoying the moment more and more.

After an all-too-short amount of time, the song came to an end, and Samara found herself leaning back in the man’s strong arms, chest heaving from the exertion of the dance’s final few steps. He held her tight for a moment before releasing her.

“Truly, you know how to dance.” He said, the attraction strong in his voice.

Samara felt a twinge of guilt as he said that. She could not deny she had enjoyed his company, but he was not her target this evening. In order to accomplish her objective, she had to dismiss him.

“It was enjoyable.” She smiled warmly, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. She felt him thrill under her touch. “Thank you.”

With that, she slipped off into the crowds, leaving the man standing there with a happy but bemused expression. He rubbed at the cheek where her lips had brushed his skin, revelling in the memory of the contact.

~o~0~o~

From one of the balconies up above, a pair of startlingly blue eyes narrowed as they watched the Asari moving through the crowds. A deeply tanned hand, adorned with a single gold ring bearing a family crest, lifted a glass of brandy to a pair of firm, stern lips.

Enjoying watching the upper echelons of Bekenstein’s society mingling from his vantage point above them all, Victor Lawson found his gaze drawn to the Asari. He could see from the way that she moved that she was no stranger to the grace of her surroundings, and yet she bore a mystery about her that he could not decipher. The fact that she could hide so much from him only helped to increase the attraction.

He smirked as she gracefully but firmly denied the young man whom she had been dancing with. Clearly this was a woman of some taste. She would not settle for the first paramour to stride towards her.

He felt his libido swell with every moment he watched her. As she wove her way past a cluster of rowdy young men, some of whom leered at her rather crassly, she turned and, with a handful of quick, sharp words that Victor could not make out from this distance, shot them down.

Obviously a woman with a measure of wit, then. Unexpected, given the usual manicured, billion-credit genetically modified airheads he saw so frequently at these functions.

His interest piqued, the billionaire continued to watch her carefully, in much the same way that a hawk gazes down upon the mouse scurrying through the foliage below.

~o~0~o~

She was being watched. She knew not from whence the watchful gaze came, but she knew she had been noticed. She could sense it, a tingle at the base of her spine, a shiver in her shoulders, and a buzz in her mind.

Now was not the time for mistakes. She could not give any clue that she was the huntress instead of the prey.

She stalked over to a cluster of men and women staring at a sculpture in one corner of the hall. The marble was carefully carved into a dizzying tangle of geometric shapes, at times turning in on themselves in a confusing and slightly headache-inducing way. It stood above a pool of water, the surface of the pool rippling to create graceful patterns.

“An incredible piece.” One of the women encircling the sculpture said. “One of Moya’s first.”

“I hear Lawson salvaged this from the ruins of Shanxi.” One of the men murmured.

“He owns a lot of pieces from the decades surrounding Earth’s arrival on the Galactic scene. He says that they have a strong connection to our rebirth as a strong entity among the other races.” Another woman said. “He’s always harking back to ‘the way we were back then’, when Humanity looked out for itself and didn’t meekly serve the Council.”

“He’s right.” The man agreed. “We’ve lost our fire since we became a part of Citadel Space.”

“I heard that Victor’s got an entire gallery of antiques and relics just like this.” The first woman said. “Even got a reconstructed automobile, internal combustion engine and all.”

“Didn’t those things run on gasoline? Ugh, how primitive.” The second woman supplied, a note of disgust in her voice.

Samara navigated her way past them, drawing up close to the bar. The man on duty behind the polished mahogany surface winked at her roguishly, but she kept her gaze distant, turning from him to face the rest of the hall.

~o~0~o~

Victor stepped out from the stairwell, looking around cautiously. He spotted his quarry at the bar, leaning back languorously as she watched the partygoers with a measure of disinterest.

Good. He wasn’t looking for one so easily entertained. He required a woman of… more sophisticated tastes.

He stepped up to the bar, ordering himself a drink as he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

~o~0~o~

She could see her quarry, although she did not dignify him with an outright glance. She felt a hot knot of tension in her stomach. The slightest mistake here, and he would be alerted to her true purpose. She had to continue to hold up the façade that he was stalking her rather than the other way around.

A burly man, greying hair betraying his advanced years. He glanced over at her slyly before turning his full gaze towards her.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. The name’s Gareth Farley.”

The Asari’s eyes widened a tiny fraction of an inch at the name. The Cisiontech Corporation’s CEO had been making the news lately. The reporters had claimed he was worth more than seventy billion credits, at least enough money to buy a small star system three times over.

“Samara.” She managed calmly, bowing her head. He took her hand a kissed it, an ancient human custom that was considered refined, albeit a little too old-fashioned.

“Charmed.” He replied through a grin reminiscent of a crocodile watching a herd of buffalo crossing his river. “So are you enjoying the evening so far?”

“It has been… sufficiently entertaining.” She said, aware she had to maintain her mask of indifference.

“The music’s good, at least.” He continued. “They’re Earth-trained, I believe. Not often you hear the classic styles anymore. Too much of that new rubbish, full of beeps and screeches. Not to my taste, of course. And apparently not to the tastes of young Mr Lawson.”

“I must admit, classical Earth music appeals to me.” Samara said, drawing upon the knowledge she had acquired of the fledgling civilisation when she had learned that she must leave Asari Space.

An idea popped into her head, a memory of one time where she had walked into the former Cerberus operative’s office to hear a strange, soothing melody playing on Miranda’s personal music system. She had asked about it, and the pair had talked briefly. She drew the name up from her memories.

“I am particularly fond of the adagio movement of Nielsen’s Fifth Symphony. The tones are so gentle. I find myself moved every time I hear it.”

“Clearly you are a woman of great taste.” Victor Lawson said, stepping up behind her. He smirked past her at the blustering Farley. “Enough, Gareth. Why don’t you go find someone more suited to your stamina? I wish to talk to the young lady.”

Farley’s face turned a deep crimson at the brusque dismissal, but he was wise enough to know not to make an issue out of it. He turned to leave, a glum look on his face.

Samara chuckled as she turned towards the man, taking in his overbearing stature. She felt a lump of disgust rise in her throat, but she managed to speak around it, putting the mission ahead of her distaste for the man.

“I can hardly be considered ‘young’ by Human standards. I have lived for longer than several of your generations combined.”

“Youth is not always a matter of numbers.” Lawson replied smoothly. “It’s all about what you feel inside, and the energy you put back into the world around you.” He extended a hand. “I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Samara.” The Asari replied calmly.

“A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman. I’ve been watching you for a while now. You’re different from the other women here. That’s why I picked you out to talk to.”

“Really? And what makes you so sure I’d want to speak to you?” Samara asked. Hard-to-get was the name of the game here.

Lawson’s burst of laughter turned a few heads around the hall.

“Ha! Don’t you know who I am?”

“Why should I?” The Asari’s tone made it clear that she did, but quietly chided his overconfidence.

“Heh, indeed, indeed! Well, perhaps we should get to know one another better. What can I get you to drink?”

“A Mannovai Daybreak.”

“I see your tastes are expensive as well as refined.” He said approvingly. “An excellent choice.” He snapped his fingers at the barman and, within seconds, two drinks appeared on the counter. They simmered although they were cold to the touch, glowing a faint orange.

“Perhaps we could go somewhere a little quieter?” He suggested.

Samara nodded acceptance of his invitation and followed him up a set of stairs until finally the two of them were in a secluded spot up on one of the balconies overhanging the main hall. As they ascended the stairs, unseen by anyone, the bracelet on Samara’s arm began to flicker, an inner light growing brighter. Victor waved a hand at the seats arrayed before them. The party still buzzed around them, but the noise was somewhat muted up there. Victor took a seat, lounging back casually as Samara sat carefully in a deep, embracing chair opposite him.

She took a moment to absorb his appearance. The man was tall, almost the same height as a Turian. His shoulders were broad, with his torso tapering down to a narrow waist, supported by two thick, strong legs. His body was encased in an elegant charcoal suit. The jacket of the suit buttoned up the left side of his chest, reaching a point about three inches shy of his shoulder, where the grey fabric gave way to a triangle of white shirt that extended to either side of his neck. A silver cravat adorned his neck, bound in a complex knot that would have required quite some time to construct. Diamond cufflinks glinted against his grey sleeves, shining stars just above his hands. A third diamond studded his tie pin, fastened onto his cravat not far from his heart.

The Human’s face was well-worn, the signs of age setting in already, even though he was not much more than fifty five, now a young age thanks to the life-extending advances of Humanity’s medical science. Piercing blue eyes reminiscent of Miranda’s stared out from the firm features, flanking a straight, stern nose above a pair of thin, imposing lips. The skin had been tanned a rich hue, the result of much time spent in warmer climates rather than a pale imitation. Black hair had become flecked with grey, a salt-and-pepper smattering of light and dark passing through it.

She was drawn out of her study of her quarry when he shifted and spoke.

“Sometimes these parties can be so dull, you know?” Victor began. “All of these ‘upper class’ morons, they’ve been born with a silver spoon in their mouths. They don’t know what it’s like to have to work for every last credit of your fortune. That kind of coddling encourages a softness of the mind. Most of the bimbos that show up here couldn’t tie their own shoelaces!” He chuckled. “But then someone like you shows up. You stand out from all the others. Why is that, I wonder?”

“I understand my desires.” Samara said confidently.

“Do you really?” Victor smiled widely. “And what is it you desire right now?”

“Now, now, Mr Lawson. We mustn’t rush things.” She smiled devilishly, flirtatiously. The man opposite her chuckled.

“Of course. You’re right. Let’s get to know one another first. We’ve already established our common interest in classical Earth music. What other forms of art do you enjoy?”

“I am a fan of art from Humanity’s twentieth and twenty-first century.”

“Indeed? You seem to have a great interest in my species, Samara. Why would an Asari have studied us so intently?”

“I admire your people. When you emerged from your system, you had such fire.” Samara explained, lounging back in her chair. She tilted her head on its side in a suggestive manner. “The Turians and the Salarians lack your passion.”

“Absolutely. I’ve yet to meet a race as driven as Humanity.”

“Indeed. However, your passion seems to have cooled somewhat of late. Being a part of the Council does not seem to suit you.”

Victor looked at her for a moment, intrigued. He had not met an alien who shared his views of how becoming a part of the Citadel Council was a bad thing for Humanity. He sighed.

“You’re right. You’re right. When we found the Charon Relay, we wouldn’t ask for permission to form an expedition to explore the Galaxy. We’d just get on with it, consequences be damned. Now, we’re held back by our fear of pissing off everyone else.”

“It is commendable that you hold onto your convictions.” Samara responded, crossing her legs slowly. “I admire a man with a strong character.”

“I see.” He chuckled as he downed the last of his drink. “Perhaps this is a conversation better continued elsewhere. Tell me, would you care to see my private gallery?”

“I think that would be fascinating.” Samara answered, her pulse racing. Going somewhere secluded with the egotistical Lawson was not something she had planned upon, but a swift glance at her bracelet told her that the omnitool mod still had work to do.

Victor stood gracefully, offering the Asari his hand. The pair walked off to a nearby door, heading away from the hall and the rest of the partygoers.

After a short stroll, the pair entered a dim room. Their footsteps echoed hollowly back from the walls, indicating that the room was fairly large. Victor tapped a command on his omnitool, and soft white light filled the room, revealing a long, wide room. Victor’s private gallery was filled with a vast collection of items from Humanity’s history. Samara could see a number of paintings on the walls and sculptures dotted around the room. She also spotted a number of glass cases containing a selection of artefacts from Humanity’s rise to the stars, charting Earth’s progress from the first space flight to the discovery of the Charon Relay and beyond.

One case held a dirty off-white suit of puffy fabric, a primitive environmental suit. A bulky helmet hung above the suit, reflective metal faceplate reflecting the Asari’s image back at her.

“That’s one of my favourites.” Victor said proudly, standing at her shoulder. “It was the suit Grigor Maryoshev wore when he made his first steps on the surface of Mars.”

“‘Raised up by the hands of a planet united, it is not one man who stands here today, but the entire Human race.’” Samara quoted.

“Some of the most inspiring words I have ever heard. It was then that Humanity realised that we don’t need to stay in the cradle we started out from. We finally began to work together as one species to reach towards the stars.”

“A momentous turning point in your history.”

Samara turned from this display case, walking past a few more pieces before emerging into s large open space at the centre of the room. A large raised platform had been erected there, upon which sat a sleek, black vehicle. It was a convertible, the cloth roof folded back behind the rear storage space. Four black rubber tyres sat underneath it, their hub caps giving the impression of extreme speed captured in a static shape. The passenger compartment was set quite far back behind a long snout-like protuberance at the front. Two headlights glinted in the very front of the machine, framing a rounded radiator grille.

“You like it?” Victor asked. “Aston Martin, DB AR1. An automobile from the very early years of the twenty-first century. Only one hundred of these were ever built, and only three remain in existence today. This is the only one that still works.”

“Impressive, after almost two centuries.”

“I had to have her restored, of course. Of course, I made sure all materials used in her restoration were sourced from Earth. Everything is as authentic as it can be.”

“A considerable undertaking.”

“Indeed. Perhaps I’ll take you for a spin around Milgrom City sometime.”

“That would be… most enjoyable.” Samara said. As she spoke, she felt the bracelet tighten around her wrist, vibrating to notify her that the omnitool mod had completed its task and was now transmitting the codes to the Normandy, to be forwarded to the waiting Legion. She flashed Lawson a winning smile.

“I must say, this has been a most enjoyable evening-“ She began.

“And it’s only just begun.” Victor said with a wolfish grin. “I intend to embrace a lot more than eternity with you tonight, Samara.”

“Oh goddess…” Samara repressed a groan at the less than spectacular come-on.

“Oh, you’ll be saying that a lot tonight.” Victor moved closer.

Samara closed her eyes with a measure of dread. She couldn’t risk breaking her cover now, not when it would jeopardise the rest of the squad. She just had to hope that she could stall Lawson long enough for the rest of the team to accomplish their goals.

Modifié par fainmaca, 20 mai 2011 - 12:41 .

[fainmaca]

Okay so this is the first half of this mission. It's turning out to be a lot longer than I anticipated, so I'm splitting the release across two weeks. I'll have the second half of the mission up next week.

[fainmaca]

Chapter 28: Shepard’s Fifteen, Part B

~GARRUS~

“Something’s not right.”

Garrus turned at Etarn’s words. His team, consisting of the Batarian, Mordin and Elanie, all waited tensely in the rear of the skycar. The Revenant sat behind the controls, ready to take the vehicle back to meet up with Kaidan for the extraction.

They had found a spot on one of the streets leading up to the Lawson estate, from where they stared straight ahead at the towering wall that surrounded the vast tracts of land.

“Why are they taking so long?” The four-eyed alien pondered.

“Just relax, Etarn. We’ll get word when everything is good and ready, not a minute before.” The Turian assured him calmly.

“Indeed. Shepard and his associates always attain to success.” Mordin murmured. “Plus, absence of explosions to indicate trouble. Shepard… lacking in subtlety when it comes to reacting to threats.”

“I’ve just got word from Kaidan.” The Revenant announced. “He’s found Grunt. The package was delivered successfully.”

“There, you see?” Garrus said confidently. “I’ve yet to find a system that the Geth can’t handle. Once Samara gets those codes to him, there’ll be nothing to stop us.”

“I take it that seeing as the tick-tock got past the security gate that Feron’s doing his job right.” Elanie said coolly. “We can assume that the estate’s external net is down.”

“There’s a reason why he’s one of the Broker’s top agents.”

“And there’s a reason why I’m one as well.” She snapped. “It should be me in there. I’ve got the tech skills for this.”

“And that’s why you’re assigned to my squad.” Garrus explained. “Once we’re in, we’ll need a tech in case Legion can’t keep a hold of the system. If he gets discovered, there won’t be much he can do except run.”

“Still freaks me out that you call that thing ‘he’ and treating it like it’s your friend. I mean, you saw what they did to the Citadel first hand. How can you be okay with letting one watch your back?”

“Only through experience. I’d have never trusted a Krogan to watch my back until the Commander let Urdnot Wrex join the team. That turned out well in the end. Now I understand the Krogan in a way few Turians do, and in the same way I’m not about to question anyone else Shepard chooses to trust.

“Hell, look at who we’ve got working together now. A Krogan and an STG agent, Humans and Batarians, even had Tali and Legion being civil to one another. How long has it been since a Quarian and a Geth spoke to one another without bullets flying by overhead or one being restrained on an operating table before the vivisection? I mean, most of us aren’t ready to jump into one another’s bunks or anything, but we’re all working together, due in no small part to the man leading us. So yes, I am perfectly okay letting my friend watch my back.”

Elanie’s lip curled in distaste, but she held her tongue. As he studied her expression, Garrus realised another reason why the Commander had assigned her to his squad. The Shadow Broker agent was used to operating on her own. She was a loose cannon, a playing piece Shepard didn’t want moving around the board without a guiding hand.

“Incoming transmission from the Normandy.” The Revenant intoned stoically. “Samara has transmitted the access codes. Legion confirms receipt of the codes, and is attempting to access the mansion’s internal systems. Access confirmed.”

“That’s our green light.” Garrus concluded firmly. “Move out.”

“With you, Vakarian.”

“Agreed.”

“Point us in the right direction, Turian.”

The squad clambered out of the vehicle, Garrus taking the lead as they began to move across the street. Behind him, elanie and Etarn ran moved in sync, Mordin bringing up the rear. The Batarian carried a large crate, normally the kind used to transport power cells. Behind them, the Revenant tapped a few controls and the skycar lifted up into the sky, arrowing off away from the estate.

The Turian drew close to the wall that separated them from the estate. Looking both ways to make sure that there was no one in sight, he pulled a roll of thick cloth about two feet wide from where it had been attached to his belt. With a practiced gesture, he flicked the cloth up, watching it arc over the wall about three metres above him. It unfurled across the razor-wire lining the top of the wall, providing a safe handhold.

This done, he turned to face the rest of his squad, dropping into a crouch with his hands cupped before him. Elanie was the first to reach him, her hand pushing against the top of his skull as her foot landed neatly in the well formed by his interlinked hands. The Turian grunted as he heaved, turning the momentum of her run into an upward thrust that launched her at the top of the wall. Her hands curled around the covered razor-wire, heaving herself over the wall to land on the far side gracefully.

Etarn was next, the Batarian’s extra bulk proving to be a little more difficult for Garrus to handle, but he made it over without incident. Garrus quickly heaved the crate Etarn had been carrying after him. Finally, Mordin was launched over the wall, his advanced years making the jump a little difficult, but his light weight making it all the easier for Garrus to give him the needed boost.

With his companions all safely over, Garrus stood, taking a few steps back from the wall. He took a long, slow breath before his lanky frame burst into motion, his legs pumping under him as he covered the distance in moments. He leapt, his foot pounding against the wall in an attempt to launch himself over. His long arms flailed at the top of the wall, gloved talons finding purchase. He struggled to maintain his momentum, pushing himself over the wall. He slowed just enough that his stomach hit the top of the wall painfully, driving the wind from his lungs. He finished the vault clumsily, dropping to the ground with a groan as his ankles took the strain of his landing.

“Garrus! You alright?” Elanie asked hoarsely as she grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

“Wooph! Had the reach that time, but still no flexibility.” The Turian chuckled, much to the bemusement of his companions. He straightened with a cough, turning to face the vast stretch of ground before him. “Let’s keep going.”

Etarn retrieved the crate, falling into step with the others as the team moved off, scurrying across the estate’s vast grounds. Garrus led the way as they wove their way around the clusters of trees and the huge pond that occupied the majority of the space between the estate’s walls and the mansion itself.

The Turian led the squad around the back of the mansion, staying back from the paths and open spaces that became more frequent closer to the repulsively extravagant building. As they proceeded around the mansion, the ground began to slope downwards, forming a bowl-shaped dip, the bottom of which flattener out into a landing pad. Adjacent to this, a set of massive steel doors loomed out of the slope, the main entrance to the Lawson estate’s vehicle garages and shuttle bays. The end result was a large, serviceable shuttle depot concealed from the mansion so as not to disrupt Victor Lawson’s view of the unbroken, idyllic landscape that he owned.

Garrus’ hand shot out, clenched in a cautioning fist to bring the others to a sudden halt at the lip of the depression.

Down below, two guards stood watch over the doors. Above them, a bank of security cameras left no blind spot to be exploited.

“Feron, Legion, it’s Garrus here. We’ve got two guards and a whole load of cams at the door we need to get past. Can you help us out?”

“Acknowledged, Gunner-Vakarian. Accessing appropriate comm frequencies… done. Sampling previous transmissions. Acquiring voiceprint of guard commander. Synthesising and transmitting.”

“I’m gonna need a translation.” Etarn said once the Geth had stopped speaking. “Anyone got a machine-speak phrasebook?”

“He’s sending a false transmission to the guards using the voice of their commander to lure them away.” Garrus explained.

“Squad Delta, this is Captain Fairway.” An unfamiliar female’s voice echoed over the comm channels. “We’ve got some movement in sector seven. Go check it out.”

“Copy that.” Came the prompt response. An instant later, the guards moved off, heading away from the waiting squad.

“Feron, how’s about dealing with those cameras for us?” Garrus said once the first obstacle had removed itself.

“Already done. No one’ll even know your guard friends left. Good luck, Vakarian.”

“Thanks.” The Turian turned to his comrades. “Move. We don’t have much time.”

“Gunner-Vakarian.” The Geth’s voice sounded over the comms.

“What is it, Legion?”

“Our comms were impaired by countermeasures of significant power upon our arrival within the lower levels of Target Lawson’s domicile. We have only been capable of re-establishing contact with the Normandy through use of the security comm network present within the domicile.”

“So when we get inside, we’ll lose contact with everyone else?”

“Correct.”

“Then I guess we’re relying on you to watch out asses.”

“The observation of your posteriors would not be beneficial to the mission. Such an activity would be illogical and inefficient.”

“Just make sure the security systems don’t turn on us.” Garrus said, exasperated at the sentient machine’s lacking understanding of organic sentiment.

“Acknowledged.”

The heavy doors groaned open as the squad approached them, presumably at the Geth platform’s prompting.

Inside, the squad was greeted by a dark interior. Obviously there were no expected arrivals, so the hangars had been shut down for the night. Loading cranes hung overhead like the menacing talons of an eagle, ready to dart down and grab their victims. In this case those ‘victims’ were many different cargo containers, from small footlockers to huge crates that could have held a skycar inside. The crane control room waited to one side, cast into darkness. As the hangar doors slid shut behind them, the team activated their omnitool flashlights on, scanning the path ahead of them.

Garrus was antsy about heading off into territory he couldn’t analyse properly, but he knew that switching the lights on would only draw attention to their presence. Even the dimmest of guards would grow suspicious upon seeing a complex this size light up like a Christmas tree.

The four team members shuffled along, finding their cautious way through the stacks of crates. A small square of light at the far end of the room announced the way out, and Garrus used that as his point of reference in navigating the labyrinth formed by the multitude of cargo containers around.

As they reached roughly the halfway point, just passing the silent hulk of a personal shuttle, his keen hearing picked up a sound that was out-of-place in the dead of the hangar. Before he could identify the nature of the noise, silence descended again. He looked to his comrades.

“Did you hear that?” He asked slowly, as quietly as he could. Even so, the whisper bounced around the crates hollowly.

“Mechanical gyros.” Mordin said promptly. “pitch would indicate smaller size, such as used in security mechs. Could be machinery, but unlikely given hangar’s deserted state.”

“Alert. Intruders detected.” A flat, feminine voice sounded out from the shadows nearby. Garrus’ light twitched over to the source of the noise, illuminating the distinctive shape of a LOKI mech. “Lower your weapons and prepare to be escorted to the nearest security post.”

“Sorry. Not a chance.” Garrus said, drawing his pistol and squeezing the trigger in one fluid motion. There was a sharp crack and the mech sparked, it’s arm dropping to the floor lifeless. It studied the lost limb for a moment, taking in the dropped firearm as well as it’s sparking shoulder socket.

“Hostile actions logged. Weapons systems disabled. Alert. All nearby units. Hostiles within hangar bay. Initiate-“ It’s next sentence was silenced by a second shot from the Turian’s pistol.

“Damn it.” Garrus cursed. “Why doesn’t Legion shut ‘em down?”

As he spoke, the Turian heard the groans and whirrs of many more mechs powering up.

“Likely mechs are insulated against hacking via security system uplink.” Mordin theorised. “Impossible to hack at this distance. Should be grateful they can deactivate distress signal to prevent other guards from approaching.”

“Then I guess we do things the low-tech way.” Garrus said firmly. He turned to his associates as he pulled his assault rifle from his back. “Quickly. If we fall back to the crane control room, it’ll provide us with a fortified place while we mow these clankers down.”

Etarn lifted his crate back onto his shoulders as the others formed a triangle around him, Elanie and Mordin in front with Garrus at the rear, as they began to move towards the darkened control room. The Turian faced backwards, covering the squad’s rear as they moved.

Seconds later, the first wave of mechs tottered into view, both behind and in front of them. Elanie used her SMG to spray bullets at the approaching enemies, her attacks ringing in the dark hangar, but doing little more than denting the white shells of the robots as they advanced sturdily. Mordin was more successful, sending an electro-magnetic pulse at the mechs on the right, temporarily shorting them out. Their stiff forms proved to obstruct those behind, buying Elanie a precious few seconds to blow their metal heads off. Between the two of them, they soon had about a half dozen of the metal men dropping to the deck, wire spilling out from the punctured metal.

At the rear, Garrus feathered the trigger of his rifle, peppering the mechs approaching from behind. Some shuddered under the assault, but they still continued to advance. In the middle of the pack, still carrying the crate across his shoulders, Etarn turned and let loose with his biotics, hurling several of the machines into the air, where they stayed suspended, flailing inneffectually.

The squad found themselves harried from all sides, slowed to a crawl by the press of enemies. Garrus’ HUD beeped as his kinetic barriers dropped below fifty per cent. He looked at their destination with frustration. The dim interior of the control room beckoned tantalisingly, promising safety while remaining almost as far away as it had been when the squad had found themselves under fire.

“My shields are shot all to hell, Vakarian!” Elanie shouted. “We need to get into some kind of cover.”

The Turian surveyed their immediate surroundings, looking for somewhere they could shelter from the deadly hailstorm of enemy fire. His eyes settled upon a small alcove formed between three stacks of crates, another pile of crates reaching only to waist height and forming a suitable barrier they could hide behind. While not perfect, it would suffice to give their shields a moment to recharge.

“Over there!” He pointed. “Quickly! Move!”

He waited as the rest of the team clambered into cover before vaulting over the crates himself. He spun around and dropped into a crouch, laying his rifle across the top of the crates and firing into the hostile ranks.

Beside him, Mordin kept up a constant stream of tech attacks. One moment he was launching an Overload at the mechs, stunned machines falling to the floor as he spread electrical mayhem through their numbers, and the next he was using the Cryo Blast mod on his omnitool, clogging the joints of his targets in a thick crust of ice that held them in place. Their metal shells, made brittle by the extreme cold, shattered at the tiniest impact.

As the Salarian stood up to launch a new attack, two sharp thuds sounded out and he dropped to the deck, green blood flowing from two wounds, one grazing his temple while the other punctured his chest. The large-eyed alien choked as a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

“Mordin!” Garrus exclaimed, diving to the floor next to his fallen friend. For a moment, he was back on Omega, watching as what little was left of his team fell by his side, victims of Sidonis’ betrayal. “Hang in there buddy. I’ve got some medi-gel here. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Behind them, Elanie and Etarn worked to keep the mechs at bay. The Salarian lifted his hand towards Garrus stiffly, back first. It took a second for the Turian to realise he was offering an omnitool mod transfer.

“Lung… punctured. Need to seal wound to prevent asphyxiation. Gel insufficient. Here… Incinerate mod.”

“I- I can’t.” Garrus gasped. “The pain…”

“Pain irrelevant. Have suffered much worse.” The Doctor said stubbornly. Garrus swallowed, nodding.

Slowly, reluctantly, Garrus brought his omnitool over the wound, tapping out the necessary commands. He used his other hand to hold the Salarian still and pressed activate.

The sizzle of burning flesh filled the air, a repugnant odour drifting over the squad. The crackle of searing meat was immediately replaced by the pained screams as Mordin’s back arched, his struggles almost breaking Garrus’ grip. Finally, after some agonising seconds, the omnitool darkened. Garrus lifted his hand away to see a charred, blackened patch where the wound had been. An instant later, the Salarian’s omnitool beeped, his combat armour reacting to his unsteady vitals and administering pain medication.

“Stay down, doc.” Garrus ordered as he returned to firing at the incoming foes.

“Between Garrus, Etarn and Elanie’s combined attacks, they managed to mow down a considerable number of mechs, but the enemy just kept coming. Incapable of experiencing fear, and not sophisticated enough to utilise complex tactics, the mechs just kept on advancing, regardless of their losses. In this way, no matter how many were felled, they continued to close on the squad.

A new sound drew Garrus’ attention. He turned to try and spot the source of a rhythmic clatter. There was another clank, drawing his gaze upwards.

Two red rings of light, one above the other, peeked over the top of the stack of crates behind the squad. Before the Turian had a chance to shout a warning, a FENRIS mech launched itself at his comrades’ backs.

The wolf-shaped machine barrelled into Etarn, bearing the Batarian to the ground. As it pressed its attack, Garrus noted a few key differences between this one and the models he was familiar with.

This mech lacked the bulky, ungainly body of its predecessors, possessing a leaner, more predatory appearance. Its limbs ended in shining talons, razor sharp blades that glinted malevolently. In the squad’s wildly unstable flashlight beams, the mech took on a feral, frenzied appearance, slashing at Etarn furiously. The Batarian lifted his arms in an attempt at defending himself, his biotics flaring as he tried to raise a barrier around himself.

Garrus yelped at the sudden intrusion, spinning around to try and turn his weapon on the mech as it did it’s best to slash through Etarn’s defences, but found the rifle to be too cumbersome in the confined space. He considered drawing his shotgun, but he was uncomfortable with the weapon and didn’t want to risk hitting any of his allies, a distinct possibility in the confined space.

With a grunt, he dropped the weapon and charged at the FENRIS, head lowered as he ploughed into the machine and pushed it off his friend. It let loose a shriek of protest as it turned it’s attentions to the Turian, its limbs twisting in a way that would have been impossible for an organic as it tried to claw at him. Garrus winced as the talons shrieked across his armour, gouging a finger-deep trench of metal across his chest plate. Inside the armour, the shrill din was almost unbearable. He tried to find a purchase on the mech, wrestling with it as it sought to disembowel him. Finally he got a grip at the shoulder joint, the machine’s ‘neck’, and pulled with all the strength he could summon to his clawed hands.

With a groan, the metal slowly gave, the machine’s head ripping off to leave behind a mess of wires and tubes protruding from the empty socket, somewhat reminiscent of the veins and arteries of a flesh and blood creature.

Panting heavily, the Turian extended a hand down to the prone Batarian. Etarn accepted the hand up, a look of gratitude in his four eyes. They moved back to their positions, resuming their defence of their pitifully inadequate fortified position.

Their run of luck resumed as the metal floor beneath them began to thrum with a steady, pounding beat. In the distance, two YMIR mechs rounded a stack of crates, the heavy fire from their combined chain guns sending the squad ducking down into hiding.

“What in the hells is going on here?” Garrus cursed as he sent a spray of bullets at the massive machines, only for them to bounce off their powerful shields. “Is there a factory here somewhere, churning them out faster than we can blow ‘em up?”

“We can’t keep two heavies at bay at once, Vakarian.” Elanie said, her SMG buzzing as it discharged a spent clip.

“Well I’m open to suggestions.” He snapped as their refuge shuddered, a rocket hitting very close by.

“I’ve got an idea.” Etarn said, his arm flaring blue as he hurled a LOKI at its larger cousins. “I need you to hold their fire, though.”

“Can do, Etarn. Show us what you’ve got.”

Garrus stood, sidling over to one side of their shelter as he fired. The large machines tracked his movement, their fire following him. As he provided this distraction, Etarn vaulted out from behind the crates, his form flickering and vanishing before the mechs could get a bead on him.

Garrus saw him disappear out of the corner of one eye, keeping the majority of his focus on the two large targets before him. His hands tingled from the chatter of his assault rifle as he emptied a clip at one of them, dropping into cover as his barriers dropped dangerously low. As he slid into cover, Elanie popped up, her SMG singing a higher-pitched chant of destruction as the first YMIR’s shields shimmered. She dipped back behind the crates, activating her omnitool.

“Hey, Vakarian! Hold ‘em off for a second.”

Garrus’s mandibles twitched in confusion as he complied, his attacks pinging against the lumbering robot’s armour. He roared in frustration as his rifle ran hot again, prompting him to switch clips. He was down to his last handful of the things, and soon his rifle wouldn’t be of much use save for beating the mechs over the head.

“Almost there… done!” Elanie shouted. “Get into cover, Turian, and watch the magic!”

She stood up, aiming her omnitool at the YMIR whose shields had been stripped. A green pulse leapt from her palm as her arm jolted back. The pulse zipped towards the heavy mech, splatting against the armour. The green glow spread across the white shell of the machine, seeping through seams and access ports. The YMIR shuddered as the electrical attack founds its way in, its circuits surging with power. It froze for a moment as its processor absorbed a stream of new information before turning slowly. Its weapons swung around and it unleashed a powerful burst of bullets at its fellow.

The second YMIR had no time to react before it’s shields suffered under the blistering hail of fire. Watching this, Garrus let out a shout of triumph.

“Y-heah!” He cried out as the two machines slugged it out. Rather than draw their attention, he targeted their smaller brethren. He sent an approving smile Elanie’s way. “AI Hacking. Impressive.”

“They don’t teach you that in the Alliance Engineering corps.” She explained as she gunned down another LOKI. “Picked it up from an old Quarian friend of mine.”

Their victory was short-lived, however, as the second YMIR gunned down the hacked one, its intact shields having given it the advantage over its brother. It turned back to the hiding squad, a renewed malevolence in its movements.

“Ahh.. crap. Figured it was too good to last.” Garrus said as he ducked out of the machine’s line of fire. “You think you can hack that one as well?”

“Not with the shields still up. Plus it’ll be ready for it this time.”

The Human’s explanation was interrupted by a thunderous clang as the YMIR’s bulky arm slammed into the top of the crate they were behind. Its black and red face peered over the crate at them, emitting a stuttering groan as its weapons charged.

A shuddering rumble filled the air above them as something slid into place above the mech’s head. The YMIR looked up to the source of the noise just as a huge claw descended out of the darkness, closing around its body. There was a straining yowl of protest as the machinery struggled to lift the YMIR’s weight before the robot’s feet finally left the floor. The YMIR struggled against the claw’s grasp, to no avail. As it hovered above Garrus and Elanie, the claw tightened, eliciting a howl of tearing metal as the armour buckled, the machine’s internal workings spilling out in a glittering rain. The claw jerked to the side, releasing the mutilated machine and casting it aside.

Garrus looked around in surprise, finally spotting Etarn behind the consoles in the control room. The lights flickered on in the small room, turning it into a beacon for the battered squad. Lifting Mordin onto his shoulder, Garrus waved for Elanie to follow him. The pair lifted their weapons and laid into what was left of the mech ranks, cutting a path through as they moved towards the control room. At last they staggered through the doors, the Batarian sealing the room behind them. As the metal doors slid shut, they reverberated to the sound of repeated bullet impacts.

Inside, Garrus sagged with relief, glad of the chance to take a breather. He carefully put Mordin down in one of the chairs in the room, where the Salarian slumped groggily as he mumbled, fuzzy from the effects of the sedatives. Elanie kneeled next to him, administering a cocktail of stimulants and various immuno-boosters. As she did this, Garrus turned to face the smiling Batarian, patting him on the shoulder.

“Great job, four eyes. You might just make it as a part of the Normandy crew after all.”

Etarn only smirked in response. They both turned as Elanie straightened up.

“Right. What’s our next move?” She asked.

“I think we’ve broken the back of the mech forces now.” Garrus explained. “Didn’t see or hear any more heavies on our way here, and there weren’t many dog-bots in that mix. With only light mechs in our way, and not many at that, we should be able to push our way to the exit fairly quickly. So take a load off while Mordin wakes up, and then we move out.”

“Sounds good.” Etarn agreed. “I doubt we’ll encounter this concentration of enemies elsewhere in the base, so once we leave the hangar behind we can focus on finding the labs and grabbing that data.”

“I just hope this data can give us a good lead on Cerberus.” Garrus muttered.

“It had better.” Elanie said, venom in her voice.

“Whoa, I’m guessing it’s more than just the Shadow Broker who wants to get at the Illusive Man.” Garrus observed.

“Cerberus is a menace. The sooner they stop bloody interfering in Humanity’s prospects, the sooner we can get ourselves on track.”

“Okay… I’m sensing a personal matter here, but I’m not gonna pry.” Garrus said. “Just stay focused on watching our backs. Whether we find something on Cerberus or not, we’ve still got the Commander counting on us.”

“Don’t tell me how to carry out this sort of mission.” She snapped. “This isn’t my first time at the rodeo. I know what’s expected of me.”

Garrus watched her as the Human turned her back on him, striding over to Mordin as the amphibious alien tried to stand up, his feet unsteady beneath him. The woman was strong-willed, he had to admit. But a stubborn attitude could be dangerous in the battlefield. He’d need to keep an eye on her, once he figured out what the hell a ‘rodeo’ was.

“Come on.” The Turian said as Mordin waved away Elanie’s help, his eyes blinking rapidly as they refocused. “We won’t get our job done sitting around here. Let’s clean out the last of the mechs and get to those labs.”

Modifié par fainmaca, 29 mai 2011 - 08:00 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 28: Shepard's Fifteen, Part B

~SHEPARD~

“Commander, Legion reports that they have gained control of the internal security network.” The Normandy AI’s voice chimed in Shepard’s ear.

“I hear you, EDI. I’ll let you know when we get what we need.” The Commander muttered. Jack, leaning close to him as they moved about on the dance floor, turned her face towards his, eyes betraying a momentary disappointment.

“I guess that means we’re done here?” She said wistfully.

“For now. If you like, we can do this again sometime.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright then. Let’s find the others.”

Kasumi and Delexia hadn’t wandered far. The Japanese thief had insinuated herself into a gaggle of socialites discussing the various pieces of art around the hall. A quick nod from the Commander, and she excused herself, leaving her drink with one ruddy-faced aristocrat who had been trying to win her affections by means of an endless stream of terrible chat-up lines and copious amounts of alcohol, both of which she had skilfully managed to avoid having affect her. Delexia was blending in at the bar and, upon seeing the rest of the team gathering, left her second glass of Palaven Senesiac, a glowing purple drink with a flavour somewhat similar to absinthe.

Once they had regrouped, the team made their way towards one of the many staircases that led to the balconies above the main hall. On the upper levels, Shepard kept an eye out for a door that would take them deeper into the mansion. A moment’s search was all it took, and as they approached, the door clicked open, evidence of the Geth platform’s influence on the mansion’s security systems. The Commander paused, making sure no one was looking in their direction, and slid through the door.

On the other side, the Commander found himself in a long corridor. A thick, red carpet coated the floor, while the walls were panelled with dark wood. The lights here were soft, warm, inviting.

He pulled his pistol from its spot in his waistband, ready for trouble. Beside him, Delexia produced a long, serrated blade from within her dress, though where she had concealed it Shepard could not tell. Jack and Kasumi, relying upon their biotics and tech skills respectively, had forsaken weapons.

They moved down the corridor, cautiously keeping an eye out for and of Lawson’s staff.

“Legion, do you read me?” Shepard asked over the comms.

“Shepard-Commander.”

“We’re out of the public eye now. Can you give us any directions to the upper levels and Lawson’s office?”

“Processing… done. We have calculated the most expedient path from your current location to the objective. Uploading to your omnitool.”

“Got it, thanks. Keep the way clear for us, and watch out for any guards that are close by.”

“Orders received.”

The Commander scanned the directions he had been given. After a short pause, he had figured out where to go.

“Alright, there’s a stairway that’ll take us up to the floor just below Lawson’s office, not far from here. After that, we’ll have to take a private elevator up to the top floor. I’ll lead. Kasumi, Delexia, behind me. Jack, watch our backs.”

“Yes sir, Mister Boss Man.”

“Got it.”

“With you, Shep.”

They moved down the corridor, making a beeline for the stairway. Shepard was surprised with how quiet it was. There were no staff around at all. They must have been all occupied with catering to Lawson’s guests.

A few turns in the corridor later, Shepard was beginning to relax. They were not far from the stairway when a door close to them clicked open. Shepard tensed at the sudden noise, waving urgently to his companions to get into cover. Delexia and Jack retreated into an alcove, hiding behind a statue of a burly Human in armour. Kasumi simply vanished, engaging a tactical cloak around herself. Shepard’s eyes roved the corridor for a moment, looking for some refuge, but couldn’t see anything. As the door swung open, he felt a presence behind him as a pair of small hands grabbed him by the waist, a slight figure enclosing him in an embrace.

“Hold still, Shep.” Kasumi’s voice whispered over his shoulder. “The cloak isn’t meant for two. If you move too fast, it’ll give out.”

Shepard tensed all of his muscles, willing himself to remain still as stone. Nevertheless, he felt a tremble set into his deep muscles, an almost reflexive reaction to his wish to be motionless.

The door opened fully and a chuckling Victor Lawson strolled out, a rather uncomfortable-looking Samara on his arm. The Commander struggled to remain stationary with such a powerful enemy so close, but somehow he found the will to resist his first urge to attack the man keeping his friend hostage.

“Come on, my beautiful blue flower. We can spend some quality time in the Armstrong suite.”

“Are you sure you do not need to attend to your guests?” Samara asked, a tinge of desperation to her voice.

“They are being well taken care of. I only hire the best to be on my staff. The drink is flowing freely, and they’re easily amused by their own self-importance. It will be a long time yet before I am missed.”

“Oh… excellent.” Samara said, just barely managing to inject a modicum of enthusiasm into her tone. Not that Lawson would have noticed. Clearly he was running purely on his hormones, and the brain he was using to think was quite a distance further south than his head.

A sour taste in his mouth, Shepard let the pair wander off down the corridor. After a minute or so, they had wandered out of sight.

“Ugh. I wouldn’t wish that fate upon my worst enemy.” Kasumi said as her cloak faded, revealing both her and the Commander. “We’d better be quick, for her sake.”

“Agreed. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner she can tell that arrogant ****** where he can put his end away.” Jack said, stepping out from her hiding place.

“Let’s keep moving.” Shepard ordered.

It was not long before they were approaching the spot where Shepard’s omnitool suggested that the elevator should have been. The Commander was momentarily confused when he noticed that this newest stretch of corridor was much the same as the rest of the mansion’s interior. The wooden panelling continued on both sides, the occasional painting or alcove containing an elegant statue interspersing the smooth, gleaming dark wood. The Commander looked about, mind buzzing.

“Where is it?” He asked.

“Lawson is a paranoid man.” Kasumi surmised. “This is his private office we’re trying to get into. He might have concealed the elevator.”

“Inside his own house?”

“Hey, I’m not saying it makes much sense. But you’d be amazed at how much redundancy some people have in their personal security systems. And Lawson’s the type of guy who has the money and the paranoia to have taken this to an extreme.”

“I guess.” Shepard conceded. He activated his commlink again. “Legion, can you open up the elevator?”

“One moment.” The Geth’s flat voice responded. Shepard shifted impatiently on his feet for a few seconds before the sentient machine continued. “Error. We are unable to fulfil your request, Shepard-Commander.”

“What’s wrong? Have you been locked out of the system?” Shepard asked anxiously. If the Geth had lost control of the security systems, it wouldn’t be long before their presence was detected.

“Negative. We remain in control of the security systems within the laboratory complex and the primary segments of Target Lawson’s domicile. However, it would appear that both Target Lawson’s office and the elevator leading to it are isolated from the main network. We cannot hack the system from here.”

“Come on! Is it too much to ask for just one straightforward mission? Just one goddamned assignment that doesn’t go balls-up!” Shepard cursed.

“Don’t worry, Shep. Kasumi’s got this.” The lithe thief said as she walked up to the wall where the elevator should have been. “I’ve gotten in and out of places a hell of a lot tighter than this. Now help me find where the elevator shaft is.”

Shepard joined her at the wall, and the pair began gently tapping the wood, listening to the sound. After only a few moments, the Commander found a segment of the wall that echoed with a hollow metallic ring.

“Got something.” He said, prompting Kasumi to step over. She repeated the knocking test for herself, her eyes closed as she listened.

“Bingo. Let me just get my toys out….”

She reached up to the back of her head, pulling out the pair of jade Kogai that had been threaded through her hair. As she did so, the bun unravelled, her dark hair cascading around her ears in a silky shower. She held one up to the wall, depressing a stud in the end of it. The narrow point unfolded, sprouting a variety of needle-shaped tools. They splayed out like the petals on a flower, spinning in a dizzying pattern. An insistent beeping sounded out as green beams of light stroked the wooden panelling. The light moved out from a central point until they outlined a large rectangle. Shepard examined where the lights stopped, seeing the tiniest of seams in the wood, the outline of the elevator doors.

Kasumi pressed the button on the end of her tool again and the lights began moving once more, closing back in on a new point. The beams aligned until they pointed out a line leading away from the elevator.

“Right. Got the primary control line. We can follow this to whatever Lawson uses to open the doors. Then, its just a case of picking the lock. A lock that could potentially have millions of credits of research behind it, but a lock nonetheless.”

“You know just how to make a girl feel confident, don’t you, Goto?” Delexia asked with a grin.

“Meh, I do my best. C’mon. Once we find the control, I’ll have it open in no time.” Kasumi answered confidently.

She walked down the corridor, holding her tool in front of her and following where the green beams of light pointed. After about five metres, the beams were aimed straight at a painting of a smiling man, obviously a younger Victor Lawson, standing erect, a young girl at his side, held in place by a firm hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, but the features were unmistakable. Even at that young age, the strikingly beautiful child was undoubtedly Miranda. Hair the colour of a raven’s wing tumbled over her shoulders while sharp blue eyes gazed out from a perfect face. Even from a painting of her in her childhood, her good looks were enough to give any man pause.

“Woah. Cheerleader’s family photo?” Jack breathed. “Is it just me, or does that kid look like she really don’t wanna be there?”

“Just goes to show exactly what her childhood was like.” Shepard commented. “Just her father, controlling everything about her life. No one looking out for her as a person, just as an investment.”

“Boo-****ing-hoo. You’d better stop, Shepard. I’m misting up.”

“Kasumi, can you get this thing open?” Shepard asked, keen to move on from Jack’s griping about Miranda.

“Hang on.” She waved her omnitool over the painting, which retracted into the wall with a hiss, revealing a holographic interface. She held her ‘tool over it, a small display flickering to life over her wrist. “Okay, let’s see. Pretty standard sixty five, five thirty six bit encryption software. Random number code, changed every day, but my ‘tool can break through that before it can register I’m trying to hack it.”

“You make it sound pretty unsophisticated, considering the investment Lawson made into the rest of his security.”

“Oh no, this is incredibly sophisticated stuff he’s got plugged in. Definitely more than you’d see in your standard home security package, and even than what you’d see protecting most government facilities. But you’re forgetting how good I am.” She bragged. “Just a sec.”

She tapped out some furiously fast commands, inputting numbers faster than Shepard could even think. It was amazing to watch her keen intellect at work. The display flickered before her, red segments turning amber, then green. Some segments reverted back to red in the time it took her to change the others, but the display was turning green faster than it could change back. After about half a minute, the final segment turned green.

There was a hiss, and the panelling over the elevator creaked. A split appeared, peeling the dark brown panels away to reveal cold steel doors, which hissed open.

“Good work, Kasumi.” Shepard congratulated as the squad stepped in.

The doors hissed closed behind them, followed quickly by the lurch of inertia as the elevator began its ascent. Shepard found his foot tapping impatiently as they approached the top floor.

“Hang on, if the office is on a separate security system from the rest of the mansion, won’t that mean we’ll be detected the moment we step inside?” Delexia asked.

“Pretty much, but this is no time for us to back out now.” Shepard said firmly. “We get in, get what we need, and get out as fast as we can. Regardless of if Legion can keep us hidden or not, they can still keep Lawson’s guards tangled up long enough to buy us some time.”

“Flying by the seat of our pants, eh? My favourite way to do things.” Jack chuckled.

Shepard smiled back as the elevator shuddered to a halt. The doors opened, revealing Victor Lawson’s office. The Commander felt his breath catch upon seeing the extravagance of it all. He paused for a moment to take it all in.

The floor was tiled with red and white marble, forming swirling, looping patterns and endless knots. The walls were panelled to roughly waist height in deep reddish-brown mahogany, the upper half of the walls painted a clean white. Two sets of staircases curved upwards to either side, reaching up to a mezzanine that was suspended above the main floor. Below this, a large archive of bookshelves extended away from the elevator, a rich library, not just of digital storage devices, but also of real ink-and-paper books, the largest collection of books Shepard had ever seen. He doubted that this many printed publications could be found in any other collection. Above the mezzanine, the ceiling was made entirely of glass, offering a clear view of the night sky. This window extended down the front of the office, forming a V-shape on the front wall that offered a stunning vista across the Lawson estate.

The mezzanine itself appeared to be the office proper. The stairs leading up to it were carpeted, as was the upper level, in a plush bottle-green pile. There was a small bar up there, before which had been placed a pair of couches, upholstered in shining brown leather. The centre of the mezzanine was occupied by a desk made from black glass and spotless chrome.

The Commander had barely taken a step into the office when an alarm sounded out.

“Alert. Unauthorised personnel detected.” A soft feminine voice rang out.

“Shepard-Commander. We are detecting an increase in comm traffic on enemy guard frequencies. Statistically probable that hostile VI is attempting to summon forces to your location. Attempting to hinder transmissions, but our ability to interfere is limited. Hostile guards will be en route within five point four one minutes.”

“I read you, Legion. We’ll do our best to be out of here before that.” Shepard replied. He turned to the others. “You heard the Geth. Let’s get to work.”

Shepard and Kasumi scaled the stairs, heading straight for the desk. Delexia took a more leisurely route, heading for the shelves underneath the mezzanine, where she browsed the digital sections with her omnitool. Jack, as the Commander expected, made a beeline for the bar.

The desk lit up as Shepard approached, the smooth black surface becoming a touch-sensitive display. Kasumi slid into the chair before it as Shepard scanned the display.

“Alright. What’ve we got here? Hello, little system, fancy opening up for auntie Kasumi?” She tapped a couple of controls. The entire display suddenly flared red. “Ah-ah, that’s naughty! Behave!”

Shepard watched as she worked her magic. Almost a full minute went by before the desk beeped compliantly. She moved aside as a list of files popped up.

“Here you go, Shepard. Everything Lawson’s got on Cerberus.”

The Commander leafed through the files, reading them carefully but quickly.

“Most of this is to do with Lawson’s financial dealings with Cerberus. Front companies and various accounts he sent payments to. Some are no doubt out of date, but others will still apply.” He explained. “But here’s an interesting one. It’s the messages sent between Lawson and Cerberus after the Normandy was captured. It gives the account payment was to be sent to, along with the courier company used to deliver the ‘package’, I’m guessing Miranda, to this estate.”

“Not exactly the mother lode, but it’s a promising start.” Kasumi said. “It won’t let us take the Illusive Man down, but now you’ve got the power to hurt him through his credit chit. And you’ll be able to target any companies he’s been using as a front for his operations.”

“There are a lot of organisations on this list that I thought could be trusted. The fact that Cerberus has been leeching so much money out of Humanity… It boggles the mind.” Shepard said sadly.

“It won’t be a factor for long. You get this intel back to Liara, and I’ve no doubt she’ll put enough pieces together to set you on old Illusive’s trail.”

“Here’s hoping.” Shepard said, finishing his download. “Okay, I’ve got the files. Forwarding them on to EDI… and we’re good. Let’s get going.”

Kasumi powered the desk down, the black glass going dim as she stood up. Shepard walked over to the bar, tapping Jack’s back as she rummaged around under the bar, trying to sample as much of its contents as possible.

“Jack, we’ve got to go.”

“Aww… dammit. I just found his good stuff, too.” She pouted, though the mischievous glint to her eyes made it clear she was joking.

The trio descended the stairs to find Delexia just exiting the archives, tapping at her omnitool. She looked up at them with a proud grin.

“Found some interesting data back there. A few new theories on shotgun Mass Effect Field generators and a couple of files about synthetic bone meshing. Figured Lawson wouldn’t miss ‘em too bad, so I lifted ‘em for your Doctor Solus to take a look at.”

“Good work.” Shepard said. “Anything we can get our hands on will be a help against the Reapers. I’m sure Mordin will put the data to good use.”

They began to move back towards the elevator when a grating whine sounded out through the office. Shepard and his comrades had just enough time to dart into cover before the elevator opened up, spilling guards out. The instant they caught sight of the intruders, the armoured guards opened fire, bullets bouncing off the marble floor and sending clouds of splinters out from the panelling on the walls.

Shepard and Jack had tumbled into hiding behind the curve of the stairs, the biotic convict sliding on the marble floor as she swung into cover. She cursed as he feet faltered beneath her, quickly slipping off her shoes so she could walk and run a little easier. This done, she peeked around their cover at the guards, launching a Warp blast at one. His armour split open under the fierce biotic attack, exposing his flesh to the destructive force of the unstable dark energy now clouding around his form. With a satisfied grunt at the success of her attack, she pulled back into cover next to Shepard, sliding into a sitting position as she tore at the hem of her dress, reducing its length to midway down her hip so it wouldn’t affect her in combat. Across the way, Shepard saw Delexia do the same. Kasumi simply unfastened her kimono to reveal that she had been wearing a secondary outfit underneath, a more practical combat jumpsuit. They were seriously under-equipped for a protracted firefight, but Shepard hoped they’d be able to get out before they were at serious risk.

The Commander leaned out from behind his cover, firing his pistol a few times. One guard staggered back as his kinetic barriers shuddered under the attack, before a small round hole appeared in the brow of his helmet, a cone of red gore bursting out of the back of his helmet with the bullet. The rest of his fellows, seeing their comrade fall, concentrated their firepower on Shepard’s refuge, the Commander only just pulling back into hiding as bullets began ricocheting off the staircase’s railing.

On the opposite side of the office, behind the other staircase, Delexia held her knife between the tips of two of her talons. She weighted it in her hand for a moment before standing up straight, exposing herself to enemy fire for a moment. Her eyes narrowing, she threw her knife straight at one of the approaching guards. The blade whistled through the air, a silvery flash. It embedded itself in the chest of one guard, its slower speed allowing it to bypass barriers designed to deflect high-velocity bullets. The man howled in pain as the front of his armour became slick with blood, tumbling to the floor in a limp pile that slowly ceased twitching, the floor beneath him covered in a spreading pool of thickening red liquid.

Shepard shifted to the side as Jack stood again, her red dress sparkling with the crackling blue waves of dark energy she summoned to herself. The convict focused for a second and two of the guards were janked off their feet, blue energy wrapping around their ankles and dragging them towards the squad at a blinding speed. The whizzed past the squad, continuing their journey into the archives behind Shepard. The Commander turned around and, as they staggered to their feet, he gunned one down with two precise shots, one to his chest and the other to his throat. The second one was targeted by Kasumi. The lithe thief lifted her active omnitool and pressed a button. A tiny, needle-like projectile leapt from the back of her wrist with a hiss of compressed air. The groggy guard clapped a hand to the side of his neck, pulling the needle from the joint between his helmet and the neck of his armour. He inspected it for a second before staggering on his feet and dropping to the floor, motionless. Satisfied, Kasumi loaded another dart into the launcher on her forearm.

“Look out! Flashbangs!” Delexia’s yelled warning came a second too late for Shepard and Jack. The pair turned to her just as a small, cylindrical device clattered across the floor at their feet.

The flash of light was tangible, the Commander’s vision being turned to pure white as the device burst. A terrible shriek filled his ears as his eardrums were overwhelmed by the tremendous thump. Robbed of his sight and hearing, the Commander struggled to stand upright. Afterimages of his last moment before the explosion waved about before him, temporarily burned into his retinas.

The flare of light slowly faded, as did the ringing in his ears. His vision returned, the office now seeming discomfortingly dark. He looked about to see how Jack was faring, only to find the convict’s body laid out on the floor. A trickle of blood seeped from one ear, while her eyelids fluttered painfully. He shook her shoulder to try and rouse her, but she remained unresponsive.

“Jack! Jack, wake up!” His own voice sounded like it was travelling through a wall, muffled and distant.

“Shepard!” Another voice, even quieter, yet more insistent. Delexia. He looked over through hazy eyes to see the Turian looking at him with concern.

Delexia was saying something, but she may as well have been muttering as the dull thuds of incoming bullets filled his hearing. He closed his eyes tightly to banish the shimmering images of a blinding world, shaking his head to make his ears work properly. It did little to help, but he felt his mind refocus. He opened his eyes again.

“Shepard! Get your head back in the game! They’re pushing.”

Still a little sluggish, the Commander lifted his pistol and peered out from behind his cover, firing at the enemy. One staggered back as his shields took a beating, but quickly recovered and pressed onwards with his companions.

Kasumi, seeing the threat drawing closer, pulled back into her cover, tapping away on her omnitool. The palm interface began to glow a bright blue, crackling with power. Once she was ready, she swivelled out from behind the stairs, waving her hand in a wide, sweeping motion. A burst of energy flowed from her outstretched palm, a flickering blue wall that passed over almost half of the guards. As it passed, their kinetic barriers shimmered and died, their circuits momentarily disabled. As they pulled on the triggers of their weapons, only dull clicks spouted from the muzzles of the guns. They looked down in confusion at the useless weapons.

“Quickly! Take ‘em out before the EMP wears off.” Kasumi called to her allies. “And I’m not sure I can charge this thing up quickly enough to use it again.”

Shepard needed no second prompting. He rolled out of his cover, firing at any unshielded enemies. Delexia flung another pair of knives at them, bringing down two more targets. By the time Shepard had emptied his thermal clip, all six unshielded guards had been killed.

The Commander drew back into his shelter as he swapped out his clip, making ready to open fire one more time. Taking a deep breath he leapt out into the open, firing his gun at the guards as they reached the other side of the staircase. He fired point blank at the first two, the sheer power of his pistol overwhelming their barriers at this distance and sending a spray of gore erupting from their ruptured bellies. His pistol hissed as he fired the last shot, and he threw it aside, lunging at the nearest standing guard with his fists.

The guard’s armour took the brunt of his blows, but he was close enough that the enemy couldn’t use his own weapon, and neither could his allies risk firing at Shepard lest they hit their friend. The guard tried to use his rifle to block the Commander’s blows, but this wasn’t Shepard’s first brawl. He started off with a vicious left hook, catching the guard across his helmet’s faceplate. The blow was glancing, but enough to disorient the man while Shepard followed through with a sharp jab to the gut. As the guard curled around his fist, the Commander finished him off with a jerking knee to the face. He winced as his knee pulsed from the pain of hitting the metal faceplate with an unprotected kneecap, but that had to be nothing next to the pain the guard experienced as Shepard heard the crack of his nose breaking, his own helmet’s protection turned against him. He dropped to the ground, clutching at a faceplate that had been buckled in by the Commander’s knee.

Delexia, meanwhile, was locked in combat with another two guards. She carried two blades, one a simple straight affair while the other was a wickedly sharp, curved blade as long as the Commander’s forearm. She slashed at one guard with the short blade, the man managing to block the attack with the butt of his weapon, only for her to slash at his belly with the longer weapon, drawing a streak of blood. The guard howled in pain, lashing out with his weapon to try and strike her across the face. She ducked, but not fast enough to dodge the butt of the gun completely. It struck her across the cheek, her hardened Turian scales absorbing the majority of the impact. She retaliated with a thrust of the short knife. The guard grunted in surprise, looking down at the blade embedded to the hilt in his chest, right over his heart.

The second guard tried to strike her from behind, but she whirled with a speed the Commander wouldn’t have credited a Turian with, her outstretched leg catching the guard across his shins and sending him tumbling to the ground, gun clattering across the floor next to him. Delexia dropped on top of him, straddling him as she worked his helmet free so she could land a punch to his face, knocking him out cold.

Kasumi used her cloak to gain the advantage over another pair of guards. She vanished from sight in front of one, only to appear behind the other. She jabbed at him with the second of her two Kogai, finding the seam under the arm. He jolted at the touch, the drugged tip of the concealed weapon flooding his system with a toxin that dropped him in seconds. She cloaked again, reappearing directly in front of the second guard. He ad barely a moment to react before she struck him with an outstretched palm, driving the wind from his chest. Another two lightning-fast jabs, and he was unconscious on the ground.

This only left two guards standing. Shepard bulled into them, his shoulders catching them across the belly as he bore them to the ground. One flailed at him with an armoured fist, catching the Commander across the jaw. Shepard retaliated by lifting the guard’s head between his hands and slamming it back into the marble floor repeatedly. The metal of the helmet rang hollowly against the tiled floor, and after about four impacts the guard stopped struggling. The last of the guards tried to grab the Commander’s arm, trying to pull him down and wrestle on top of him. The two men strained against one another, Shepard’s injuries paining him as his fingers struggled to find a handhold on the guard’s armour. The pair rolled across the marble floor until finally Shepard found himself astride the guard. Their hands locked as they pushed against one another, Shepard could only hold the man down, not strike at him. In a final moment of desperation, he darted his head forwards, his brow connecting with the guard’s helmet in an impact that left stars wheeling in Shepard’s vision. He felt a sickening grogginess cloud his head as the guard slumped to the floor, unconscious, and he rolled off him. A moment later, Delexia was next to him, helping him up.

“Commander, you alright?”

“I don’ get what Krogan like so much ‘bout headbuttin’” Shepard mumbled.

“You’ll live. Just sit tight for a sec and let the fog clear out of your head.”

“Jack.” Shepard muttered, eyes widening as his thoughts travelled to the fallen biotic. “Jack!”

“It’s alright, Shepard. Kasumi’s giving her some medi-gel now.” The Turian soothed.

Shepard struggled to his feet, with Delexia helping him to get his balance. He tottered over to where Kasumi was leaning over Jack’s inert form. The Japanese thief looked up at Shepard, a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

“She’s out cold, Shep. Musta been standing right on top of the flashbang when it went off. I can’t wake her up.”

“Then I guess we carry her out.” Shepard said firmly. He activated his omnitool, hailing the Normandy. “Shepard to Normandy. Joker, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Commander. Got Legion on the phone sayin’ the guard frequencies are goin’ berserk about you.”

“We’ve got what we needed, but pissed off the guards in the process. We need Kaidan en route with the shuttle.”

“Can do, Shepard.”

“Any word from the second team?”

“Legion says they’re still en route to their objective. They ran into some trouble with security mechs, but nothing they couldn’t handle.”

“Legion? Why can’t you talk with Garrus?”

“There’s some sort of jammer down there. We can’t contact the second team directly. Legion had to use the security system to re-establish contact with the Normandy. But they’re keeping an eye on the team. We’ll know if they run into any trouble.”

“Alright. Keep me posted.” Shepard said, kneeling next to the recumbent Jack. He slid his hands under her and lifted her up over his shoulder, nodding to the others to move out. Kasumi and Delexia retrieved a rifle each and what clips they found on the guards before making their way towards the elevator.

The doors hissed closed behind them and the elevator began its descent. The squad was silent for the length of the journey, Shepard shifting under the slight weight of Jack’s body on his shoulder while Delexia and Kasumi fiddled with their new rifles.

The elevator rumbled to a halt, doors whooshing open to allow the squad back into the corridor they had been in before.

No sooner had the Commander stepped out of the elevator than shots rang out all around him. He pulled back into the elevator as guards jogged into view down the corridor. Beside him, Kasumi and Delexia dropped into a crouch on either side of the door, taking advantage of the cover of the threshold. They sent spurts of bullets either way down the corridor at the approaching guards.

Shepard carefully put Jack down in the back of the elevator as he drew his pistol. He stood next to Kasumi, his height allowing him to lean over the shorter thief and fire at the guards. There had to be at least a dozen guards blocking off the corridor on either side, a force Shepard knew they would not be able to take on in their current state, a man down and lacking their combat armour.

“There’s too many of ‘em, Shepard!” Kasumi shouted over the rattle of the guns. “What do you want to do?”

“No choice. We’ve got to go back up, try and find a new way out of here.” Shepard ordered.

He turned from the guards, reaching for the controls to take them back up to Lawson’s office just as Delexia shouted out another warning.

“Flashbangs!” She managed before a couple of canisters clunked through the doors, rolling across the elevator’s floor at the Commander’s feet.

Shepard barely had a chance to close his eyes before the world exploded in a flare of white, this time quickly followed by descending blackness as his senses were overwhelmed by the light and noise, amplified by the confined space. He was aware of the noise of booted feet approaching as he slid to the floor and out of the world of the conscious.

~o~0~o~

~LEGION~

“Uhh… Legion?” Joker’s voice sounded over the comms. “The Commander’s coming under fire up in Lawson’s office. He wants to know if we can wrap things up here yet. You got a status update on the second team? I can’t get a hold of Garrus directly.”

“We are tracking the second team’s progress through the sub-levels of the domicile. They have proceeded beyond the cargo hangar and are en route to the laboratories. We judge from their unfaltering progress that they have not met with any more obstacles.”

“Good to know. Keep us updated, okay?”

“Acknowledged.”

Processing incoming data from hostile security network. Connection- stable. Comm traffic- elevated. Analysing hostile transmissions.

Transmission intercepted. Decrypting.

“Wilkinson, we’ve captured the intruders in Mr Lawson’s office. All four have been neutralised. Get the cells ready.”

The Geth platform’s runtimes buzzed with alarm at this newest parcel of information.

Alert. All four members of primary squad reported incapacitated. Shepard-Commander reported captured. Processing…

Shepard-Commander at risk at hands of hostile forces. Likelihood of positive identification of Shepard-Commander by Target Lawson upon interrogation: ninety-five point three per cent. Possibility of release to resume activities against Old Machines: four point two per cent. Likelihood of transfer of custody to Human-centric organisation known as Cerberus: sixty-two point three eight per cent. Unacceptable odds.

Primary objective of this platform is observation of Shepard-Commander in order to analyse superior code effective in activities against Old Machines. Initial conclusions indicate that Shepard-Commander will be invaluable in any war effort against Old Machines. Loss of Shepard-Commander will be detrimental to odds of victory for Galaxy as a whole, reducing chances of Geth Collective surviving impending invasion.

Conclusion: Safety of Shepard-Commander takes precedence over primary goals of current mission. Actions must be taken to ensure the freedom of Shepard-Commander. Addendum: likelihood of this platform securing Shepard-Commander’s freedom unassisted- seventeen point two nine per cent.

Achieving Consensus…

Achieving Consensus…

Achieving Consensus…

Error. Consensus not achieved. Five hundred and sixty two programmes favour attempting to secure the freedom of Shepard-Commander, five hundred and twelve favour rendezvousing with allied forces at extraction point in order to return in force, forty eight favour proceeding with original mission objectives and twelve have yet to submit a preference. Continue with current operation until consensus is achieved.

All of this cold reasoning occurred within the blink of an eye. The Geth, still undecided, re-opened a channel to the Normandy.

“SSV Normandy, unit designation ‘Legion’ requests transfer of data.”

“I read you, Legion. What do you need?” Joker replied.

“We have intercepted a transmission indicating the capture of Shepard-Commander and his companions.”

“God damn it!” The pilot cursed. “Alright… just hang tight while we try to figure something out. I’ll radio the extraction team, see what they can do.”

“Acknowledged.”

The moments ticked by. To a machine intelligence like the Geth, those few seconds seemed like an eternity. To keep themselves occupied, the runtimes began reorganising their memory. They had just reached the Commander’s second rescue of their hardware from a hostile force when Joker called back.

“Okay, I’ve talked it over with EDI, and we think the best bet is to wait for the second team. Garrus has a good head on his shoulders, and the team’s in the best place to get to Shepard.”

“The logic is sound. We shall abide by EDI’s judgement.”

“Great. Just keep an eye out for when Garrus is done down there. I can’t wait for this mission to be over. Normandy out.”

The Geth returned to monitoring the security systems. An image flared up of the second team running down a corridor, guns out and every angle of approach covered. The image flickered to a top-down schematic of the lower levels, showing their location as a green blip.

The sentient machine spun around as a loud thump was heard in the confine of the security control room. Their bright eyelens spun as they focused on the door.

“Hey Dalson! Shift’s up, open up in there.” A deep male voice seeped through the door.

Alert. Unidentified person detected on opposite side of security control room door. New worker to replace current staff statistically probable. Likelihood of discovery rising.

“C’mon guys. You know there’ll be hell to pay if you don’t let me punch in on time.” The knocking became more insistent.

Analysing…

Consensus Achieved. Assuming covert stance.

The Geth moved away from the console, finding a spot to hide in between one of the banks of computer processors against the wall. The white ‘eye’ faded, as did the other lights across its torso. In moments, they had vanished from sight amid the clutter of the wires and blinking lights.

There were a couple more thumps at the door before everything went silent.

Amplifying auditory input.

“Hey, Captain Dermont? It’s O’Bannon. I’m at the lower security control centre door. There’s no answer from inside.”

Analysing voiceprint… stress levels indicating suspicion, anxiety. This platform’s auditory sensors are incapable of registering transmission’s recipient.

“Understood. I’ll have the door open in a sec.”

A quiet beeping could be heard.

Electronic intrusion detected in door controls.

A moment later, the door hissed open, and a tall Human in the uniform of one of the estate’s staff stepped in, followed by a shorter female. Legion’s powered down optical sensors didn’t register their entrance, but passive motion sensors outlined their forms. The machine’s internal motors tensed, tendon-like pistons and levers making a minute grinding noise as they settled into a rigid position, ready to send the Geth into a full run. They didn’t need to ‘see’ in the traditional sense to find their way around, allowing them to keep their optics powered down.

The man cautiously stepped over to the console, inspecting the display. His companion knelt next to the prone bodies of the room’s previous two occupants.

“They’re out cold.” The woman said, waving an omnitool over them. “There’s no sign of any chemical agents. That means some sorta electronic stun-gun.”

“No sign of any unauthorised intrusion on the network. Not even any failed attempts.” He muttered over his shoulder.

“So what were they looking for?” She asked.

“There’s nothing else here. But if they’d tried to get into the system, there’d be a trail.”

“How do you know they didn’t erase it?”

“Come on, nobody’s that good. You’d have to be a machine to navigate the system that well.”

“Wait a minute… The door was locked when we got here.” The woman said slowly. “That would mean…”

“Yeah.” The man gently drew his pistol, trying to make the motion inconspicuous.

Hostile actions detected. Risk of harm to this platform detected.

The pair began slowly walking around the room, looking into corners and under desks. Legion tensed as the woman stepped dangerously close to the Geth platform, aiming her pistol into the clutter of wires. Her eyes narrowed as she noted the unusual structure of the Geth ‘face’ amidst the normal machinery.

“What the-“

She never uttered the third word. The Geth’s ‘eye’ flashed on at full intensity, causing her to flinch in pain as she was blinded. Before she could move an inch, a metal shoulder struck her square in the chest. She was thrown to the ground, her skull impacting the floor just hard enough to send her wheeling into darkness.

The man twisted at the noise of his comrade falling to the ground, lifting his pistol defensively. He managed to get two shots off before the Geth crossed the space between them, the bullets pinging harmlessly off the metal shell. Legion swung at him with one three-taloned fist, striking the man in the gut. As he curled over, the machine brought a second fist down on the back of his cranium, knocking him out as well.

Targets eliminated. Alert. Location betrayed to hostile superiors. Immediate exfilration recommended. Re-establishing contact with allied forces.

“SSV Normandy, unit designation Legion requests transfer of data.”

“What is it now, Legion? Any word on the second team?” Joker replied promptly.

“Negative. We are transmitting to inform you of the discovery of this platform by hostile forces. We cannot hold this location. Logic would dictate that the best course of action would be the immediate exfiltration and attempting to rendezvous with extraction team.”

“So we’re about to lose contact with you, as well as any chance we have of keeping tabs on the second team.”

“Correct. However, should this platform receive orders to continue with current mission, we will obey.”

“We’re not gonna accomplish anything by letting Lawson get a hold of you. Get out of there, meet up with the extraction team, and we’ll play it from there.”

“Orders received.” The platform confirmed.

The Geth moved out of the room, leaving the unconscious guards where they had fallen as they ran away down the corridor, the sounds of approaching guards reached their auditory sensors. Reacting in a millisecond, the machine changed course, turning off down one of the many intersections leading off the main corridor. The Geth retreated into the refuge of a recessed doorway, watching as more guards bearing the Lawson estate uniform thundered past on their way to the security control centre.

Situation analysis: primary route to extraction team compromised by hostile forces. Alternate route necessary.

The Geth moved off, searching for a new way out of the mansion’s sub-levels, alone and unable to contact their allies.

Modifié par fainmaca, 29 mai 2011 - 08:02 .

[fainmaca]

And that's the second portion of the mission on Bekenstein. There'll be a third segment next week, which should cap it off. Please let me know what you think. I'm having fun writing this. I like the similarity between this and the suicide mission, and definately think missions where you choose your specialists should occur more frequently in ME 3.

[simon.dean]

Like the rest of your story this is another great chapter (Arc?) I also like the fact that so far you haven't played it off like kasumi's loyalty mission.

[fainmaca]

I have revamped my opening chapter. Personally, I think this one is a bit better than the original, as it keeps the scenes that I wanted, but Cerberus turning on Shepard seems a bit more logical now. Please let me know what you think, which you prefer and so on.

Chapter 1: Prey of the Three-Headed Dog


The bridge of the Alliance cruiser Venice clamoured with activity, a vast multitude of servicemen rushed about, caught up in the tense buzz that dominated the ship’s atmosphere in the final moments before an engagement. Some tensely watched out of the front viewport as the distorted view of the galaxy at faster than light speeds whirled past. Others were dutifully going about their assigned tasks, burying themselves in their work lest the pre-mission jitters get the best of them.

In the midst of this turmoil, a single figure stood calm, a towering presence in the eye of the storm. Admiral Steven Hackett was every inch the stern, grizzled veteran mentioned in the legends spoken around the Mess Hall tables of every Human-designed ship in the Galaxy. He watched the viewport ahead with eyes narrowed, his scarred features creased in focus as he waited for the Venice’s destination to heave into view.

The Admiral refused to turn around as the door hissed open behind him and a powerful presence stepped up at his shoulder. All activity on the bridge slowed, a reverent hush washing over the assembled crew as they caught sight of the new arrival.

“Shepard.” Hackett’s tone remained neutral, unsurprised. “You should be down with the strike team.”

“We shouldn’t be here at all. There are bigger threats out there, Admiral.”

“So you keep telling me. But my hands are tied here, Commander. We go in and take these sons of ****es down. They’re too dangerous to be left to run loose.”

“I’m not arguing that Cerberus is dangerous, but we’re committing a lot of resources to this, when we should be trying to pool our resources with those of the Illusive Man.”

“After that stunt you pulled? You destroyed the Collector Base, a fact that I’ve kept back from the Parliament for your benefit, by the way, and then you run off with billions of credits’ worth of resources in the form of the Normandy, her crew, your squad and all those fancy trinkets Cerberus gave you along the way. You really think they’re ready to be all pally with you again?”

“Its not about that. There’s an enemy out there greater than anything we’ve ever faced. We need to pull together to face the Reapers.”

“An nice ideal, but the men at the top don’t want to listen to those lines of reasoning. The Council is pushing for Humanity to produce something to appease Hegemony after Aratoht. The Illusive Man served up on a platter is what they think its going to take. Its either that or we extradite you to Khar’Shan.”

“Not an option. Not with so much to be done. If the Reapers hit now, we’re nowhere near ready.” The Alliance hero turned to face the Admiral. “I really should be with my squad for this mission.”

“Again, not my call. Every last member of your crew is either a former Cerberus operative, a known criminal or non-human. Either way, the politicians don’t want them on the strike team. Conflict of interest, they say.”

“What, they think my team’s gonna jump back on the Cerberus bandwagon mid-mission, shoot your men in the back?”

“Either that or gun down every Cerberus stooge in sight, leave no one for us to interrogate. Its fair to say Cerberus has done nothing to make friends among the aliens.”

“I know my squad. None of them would do that.”

“Oh really? But one of ‘em had a rap sheet longer than the central axis of an Everest dreadnought. Another one single-handedly blazed trail of destruction across the Terminus System, all at the request of the highest bidder, regardless of race, creed or hairstyle. You really expect me to believe none of them could get out of hand?”

“Yes. I’ve been through hell with those people, Admiral. I trust them completely.”

“You do, the Alliance doesn’t. Like I said, my hands are tied. It was all I could do to get you on the strike team. If it weren’t for your record, I imagine you’d be sitting on the sidelines, too.”

“So if my crew’s so suspect, then why do you have the Normandy present for this operation?”

“The politicians can’t argue it, the Normandy has the edge when it comes to technology. I made it clear that if she wasn’t invited to this party, then I wouldn’t be coming either.”

“I guess its better than nothing. If I have to do this, then I don’t want her too far away in case things go south.”

“Understandable.” The Admiral conceded. “Now get back down to the hangar bay. We’re about to hit orbit, and I want the strike team ready to go the moment an opportunity presents itself.”

“Sir.” Shepard saluted, turning to leave.

~o~0~o~

The blue-green planet of Basite hung in the darkness of space, the faint light of its distant orange star streaking the upper cloud layers with bands of red and yellow.

In orbit around it, a massive space station drifted sluggishly. Three hemispherical structures, fastened together with long struts. Long spires of metal extended down from the flat undersides of the hemispheres, leaning together to one point, giving the station the appearance of three parachutes tied to a single point.

The space around the planet and circling station shuddered, a vast fleet heaving into view. Roughly half of the Third Fleet dropped out of FTL, instantly moving to surround the station.

“Sir, we’re detecting a significant power spike in the station. Weapons systems are powering up.”

“Kinetic barriers to full power. GARDIAN systems online.” Hackett ordered. “Do not fire upon the station unless they fire first, and try to minimise the damage. We want the facility to study and as many prisoners as possible for interrogation. You all know how well Cerberus operatives hold up under pressure. We get enough of them, we’ll eventually find one who’s got a good singing voice.”

“Sir! Several new targets rounding the far side of the planet.”

“How many, ensign?” Hackett demanded sternly.

“Thirteen and counting. Ladar registers seven cruisers, six frigates.”

“Split your attention between them and the station. Be ready for incoming fire from either.”

“Sir! Station is deploying fighters! They’ll be in range to attack within seven seconds, in range of our own weapons in three.”

“Open fire the second they’re in of our weapons. I do not want them using their disrupters on us.”

“Aye-aye.”

The ship shuddered as the GARDIAN systems kicked in, targeting the incoming fighters. Seconds later, there were some more pronounced crashes as incoming fire from the enemy cruisers reached the Venice.

“Sir, several direct hits. Shields are down to eighty-eight per cent.”

“Return fire. Use the Javelins.” The Admiral remained cool, even in the heat of battle. Moments later, a deep, thumping groan was heard as two white-hot projectiles leapt from the Venice’s prow, connecting with the shields of an enemy ship in a blue flare.

“Admiral.” The Venice’s tactical officer called out. “All enemy ships are engaged with our own. The strike team has their window.”

“Give the signal.” Hackett ordered.

~o~0~o~

Shepard was jostled about in the shuttle as it lifted off from the hangar floor and arrowed out of the bay. He was surrounded by a dozen Alliance marines, all decked out in their bulky combat armour. A couple looked at the Commander with awe, others with distrust, and others simply ignored him, preferring to prattle on in excitement at the mission ahead. The Commander shook his head knowingly. Once you’d seen your share of battlefields, it wasn’t the battles you looked forward to, but the journey home afterwards.

The shuttle thrummed as it powered through the raging firefight between the two fleets, weaving its way out of the fray and towards the station. Through the cockpit viewport, Shepard saw the gargantuan construction looming large. With such a large structure, total kinetic barrier coverage would require power generation capabilities beyond anything Humanity or the Council races had. The power draw of a barrier several kilometres in diameter would paralyse all other systems, including weapons. In order to allow the station to act offensively as well as defensively, certain portions of the station would have to be left exposed, the kinetic barrier only covering crucial segments of the structure, like the power core and the central control room.

This was the reasoning behind the strike team’s approach vector. They would accelerate to an appreciable fraction of the speed of light, aiming straight at one of the exposed segments of the station. The shuttle’s barriers had been modified to pulse in the instant before impact, increasing their durability by a factor of ten. The shuttle would shear through the shuttle’s armour like a knife through butter, embedding itself and allowing the strike team to deploy inside the enemy station.

The Commander tensed as the shuttle surged forwards, element zero power core churning as it struggled with the sudden power drain. The metal bulkheads strained as the very shape of the vehicle was distorted by the physical forces acting upon it.

With a roar, the shuttle pummelled its way through the station’s hull. Shepard was thrown forward in his restraining harness, feeling a sickness rising in his throat as the G-forces pulled at him.

All of a sudden, the shuttle was cast into darkness as it came to a stop, its power supply depleted by its ‘suicide run’. Shepard roused himself from his confused state, unbuckling himself from his seat as the soldiers around him did the same.

“Alright, listen up!” He shouted over the groans of the mildly bruised occupants of the shuttle. “We’re in, but that’s only half the battle. We’ve still got to get to the Illusive Man’s office, fighting through whatever forces they’ve got between here and there. Once we get there, switch to stun. We need him alive.”

There was a chorus of ‘ayes’ followed by the rattle of a dozen rifles being drawn and unfolded.

The Commander nodded formally to his strike team before leading the way out of the shuttle, marching off down the corridors deeper into the Cerberus stronghold.

~o~0~o~

Joker tapped at the controls furiously, manoeuvring the Normandy through the battlefield with the grace of a dancer. To one side, the holographic representation of the ship’s Artificial Intelligence, EDI, pulsed in its rhythmic fashion.

“Careful Jeff. We have three fighters trying to fall in behind us.”

“On it, EDI. Just keep us flying, I’ll keep us out of their line of fire.”

The ship shook to the sound of multiple impacts upon her shields. The pilot winced as the ship under his care took a pummelling, with even his prodigious talents being pushed to their limits.

The displays before him flared as a brilliant beam of light spouted from the prow of the ship, a luminous streak of molten metal that sheared through the hull of one of the Cerberus frigates, tearing a huge hole through it. Once the beam vanished, the ship was left listing slowly to the side, lifeless.

“Jeff, I am detecting something on my scanners.” EDI interjected as he swerved around a stray shot from one of the massive cruisers slugging it out on either side of the battle.

“Not now, EDI.” Joker managed through gritted teeth. “Unless there’s an honest-to-god Reaper dropping on our asses, I do not want to know.”

“Nevertheless, I believe you should take a look at this. My ladar scanner has outlined three dreadnought-class ships approaching from lateral vectors, just on the boundaries of my scanning range. It would appear that they have been moving out from positions held before we arrived.”

“What? You can’t be-“ Joker’s eyes widened as EDI displayed her scans. “Oh ****. It’s a trap! EDI, transmit to Hackett. We need to warn the rest of the fleet.”

“Contacting SSV-“

“EDI? Something wrong?”

Joker’s question was answered by a squeal of static that had him reaching to cover his ears.

“EDI! What’s going on? What was that?”

“EDI can’t answer right now, Mr Moreau.”

Joker’s brow frowned as he heard an unfamiliar female voice filtering through EDI’s interface.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Forgive me. I am the SSV Atlas’ Synthetically Intelligent Networked Defence Interface, but the crew refers to me as SINDI.”

“Another AI? Cerberus built more of the things?”

“Not exactly. I am one of a generation of synthetic intelligences.”

“What have you done with EDI?”

“She is being kept occupied by our combined hacking attempts. Needless to say, she will not be assisting you today.”

Joker watched, helpless, as the systems before him went dead. As he listened, cries of consternation sounded out across the Alliance channel as several of the ships went dead, infiltrated by electronic means. He keyed up his commlink, using the last of the power in his console to make one final call.

“Hackett, this is the Normandy. We’ve got synthetics here hacking our systems. They’re knocking out our ships one by one. The Normandy is dead in the water. Get the rest of your ships out of here before they get you.”

“Shepard is still on that station, Mr Moreau.”

“You won’t be able to help him if you give Cerberus what’s left of the task force, Admiral.” Joker gulped as one of the Alliance cruisers nearby went silent, lights fading. “The longer you wait, the more people you lose, Admiral.”

“Damn it.” The Admiral cursed. He paused for a final moment before making up his mind. “All forces, I am sounding a full retreat. Hostile synthetic forces are in-system, hacking our systems. I repeat, hostile synthetic forces are present in-system. All ships that remain functional are to retreat to the Mass Relay.”

Joker watched as the remaining Alliance warships vanished into the blackness, blasting away as they accelerated to FTL. After a few moments, only the disabled ships remained. The pilot watched as the Cerberus ships, moving through the drifting hulks like vultures picking over corpses, glided closer and closer. The Normandy shook as one of the cruisers latched onto it. Cerberus had captured the Normandy.

~o~0~o~

Within minutes, Cerberus marines were flooding in through the Normandy’s airlock and various other points of access. Sergeant Leo Miller led the assault on the CIC. His troops flooded through the main airlock, battling against Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson as they attempted to lead the CIC crew in defending the ship. Some Cerberus marines and Normandy crewmen perished in the firefight around the Galactic map before the marines advanced close enough to subdue the survivors. Miller advanced carefully, moving through the empty armoury and communications suite before pausing at the Tech Lab door. He keyed in a few secure codes, which were rebuffed. Frustrated, the Sergeant ordered an engineer forward to open the door.

“How can it have power? The AI have shut down the power to this deck.” His muttered query was met with confused silence as the engineer worked on the door. Finally, it hissed open, and the Cerberus marines brought their weapons to bear.

In the Tech Lab, the Salarian genius Mordin worked quietly at his desk, manipulating some strange device. His huge round eyes darted to the approaching enemies, then instantly back to his work as though they were of no concern. His quick-fire voice murmured as he worked.

“Cerberus marines, grade three armour and standard issue weaponry. Weapons are rendered ineffective by high-powered multi-layered mass increasing kinetic barriers. Armour is strong over all vital areas, but poorly insulated-“

His comments were interrupted as the first rank of marines stepped into the Lab. The moment their boots touched the deck inside the Lab, blue arcs of energy jolted through their lower legs. The men screamed as pure power raced through their armoured boots, killing them.

“Against electrified deck plates.”

Sergeant Miller gritted his teeth in anger at seeing so many of his men felled by just one enemy before barking an order.

“Open Fire!”

The hail of bullets flooded the room, but was met by a blue sheet of energy. The kinetic barrier deflected the weapons fire effortlessly, and behind it, the Salarian smiled with more than a little smugness. Miller felt his frustration turning to rage. Then he saw his opportunity. A glimmer of light caught his eye, to the left. There, just on the edge of the kinetic barrier’s radius, a power conduit ran to one of the shield’s emitters. With a quick burst of fire, he shot the conduit, and the tech lab was cast into darkness. Now that the power was out, Miller ran into the Lab without hindrance and slammed the butt of his rifle into Mordin’s face, knocking the alien out cold.

~o~0~o~

On the Crew deck, Captain Linda Tyndall led the assault. Pouring off the Kyoto through the shattered Starboard observation window, her marines fanned out, barging through the deck and subduing what crew they came across. They had swiftly cleared out the two observation rooms, the Crew Quarters and Life Support, and were making their way through the Mess Hall when all hell broke loose. The pots in the ship’s kitchen burst into flames in an incandescent lightshow that caused most of the marines to flinch in surprise. In that instant of confusion, a single figure came racing out of the hallways leading to the Gunnery control. Brandishing two assault rifles, unleashing a mass of projectiles into the enemy, Garrus Vakarian cut quite the terrifying figure as he bulled his way through the Cerberus ranks. A few carefully timed concussive grenades kept the enemy off balance as the Turian cut down more than a third of the attackers. After this initial volley, he had cut a swathe of destruction among the marines before his rifles overheated. Dropping one, he popped the heat sink of the other one and lifted it to open fire once more. By this time the Cerberus forces had regrouped and Tyndall led the counterattack, the hardened Cerberus soldier landing a few well-placed shots on the Turian before he drew back to the elevator. Tyndall cursed as he forced the door open and had dropped down the elevator shaft.

Having to leave the Turian for someone else to deal with, Tyndall led what remained of her troops to the Medical bay. Walking in cautiously, she looked about with suspicion at the empty room. The Medical bay was dimly lit by the Normandy’s emergency lighting, and Tyndall and her troops struggled to make anything out, but after a few moments they had ascertained it was empty.

Tyndall moved on through to the AI Core. That, too, was empty, disturbingly silent. After her search, Tyndall activated her communicator.

“MSV Kyoto, this is Captain Tyndall. We have finished our sweep of the crew deck, and have rounded up all crew present. The Turian, Garrus Vakarian, has evaded capture. We have not found the Drell, Thane Krios, the Human Kasumi Goto or the Geth. I suggest the other teams keep their eyes open for them.”

“Confirmed, Tyndall. Take the captives to Kyoto’s holding cells.”

As Tyndall turned to comply, a strange light in the AI core’s computer banks caught her gaze. Leaning closer, she looked at the strange round light. As she inspected the light, two hands shot out from either side of it and grabbed her by the throat. The metallic, three-fingered hands twisted deftly and snapped her neck, dropping her to the floor. Her fellow troops had barely a moment to react before a tall, lean figure dropped from the ceiling, diving into the midst of them with a flurry of blows. The Drell moved with incredible speed, first laying out one soldier with a precise punch to the neck, and another with a jab to the kidneys followed by a fist to the back of the head. In seconds, Thane and the Geth, Legion, had killed or incapacitated half a dozen marines with their bare hands. Between them, a shadow with two sparkling eyes fired a pistol with deadly accuracy, felling a further two marines before a soldier had the presence of mind to throw a gas grenade into the AI Core, its noxious fumes filling the dark room in seconds. As Legion moved out of the gas to fight the rest of the soldiers, one of them activated his omni-tool and sent a surge of electricity through the Geth’s frame, causing it to stumble and fall. As the soldiers moved through the gas to retrieve the unconscious form of Thane Krios, an invisible shape rushed out of the room, leaving barely a ripple in its wake.

~o~0~o~

On the Engineering deck, Sergeant Julian Monez led the attack, moving through from the lower cargo deck. He swiftly secured the starboard cargo hold and engineering sub-deck, but was held up by the Krogan, Grunt, the biotic Jack and the two lead engineers resisting his troops in front of the drive core. The Krogan put up a fierce fight, his rage carrying him through the gas that rendered his engineer allies unconscious. Finally, after killing several Cerberus marines, the Krogan was taken down by a powerful biotic blast, leaving only the defiant Jack fighting the Cerberus marines.

“****ing come on, you Cerberus pricks!” She yelled, hurling a pair at a bulkhead with bone-shattering force. “I’ll tear every last one of you apart.”

One marine fired his rifle at her, holding the trigger down until the clip had emptied. She turned a fierce glare his way.

“Try that again, you little ****! I’ll tear your ****ing spine out and shove it right back up your **** before I let your scientists get a hold of me again!”

So focused was she on hurling biotic fury at the troops she never noticed the grenade that arced over the heads of the troopers and clattering to the deck behind her. It beeped insistently before a brilliant white flash filled the engine room, a screaming whine overwhelming the hearing of all present. Jack, her eyes and ears unable to cope, fell to the deck unconscious.

Having dealt with this threat, Monez led his troops to the Port cargo hold. They moved into the hold swiftly, guns pointed at every corned of the room. On the back wall of the room, the ship’s recycling system churned away quietly. Large crates of power cells filled the room. As he walked in, Monez reached out to touch on of the many knives embedded in the wall next to the door. He turned as one of his subordinates called out.

“Sir! Over here”

Monez walked over to where his fellow marine was standing, holding a datapad. He took it from the marine and lifted it to read. As he read the message, his eyes widened in fear.

SURPRISE, JACKASS.

The explosion rocked the whole Normandy, blowing out the windows of the cargo hold and incinerating the Cerberus marines before they had a chance to try to run. Outside the devastated room, a bulkhead shifted as a muscular arm shifted it aside. Zaeed Massanni clambered out of the hiding space, looking at the devastation his homemade bomb had caused with a smile. He turned as he heard footsteps and saw Kasumi and Garrus walking towards him, the latter limping from a gunshot wound to the leg.

“You seen any of the others? I’ve just finished clearin’ house down here. Bastards don’t know better than to stand around lookin’ stupid.” The mercenary’s voice was gritty, worn from a lifetime of violence and hard living.

“No. Cerberus got most of them. I saw a few getting carted off onto the other ships.” Garrus’ voice, tinged with his Turian accent, was heavy with pain.

“Well, no good standin’ ‘round here. We’re no good to anyone if we’re captured. The AI should have stopped the attackers by now, so I’m guessing Cerberus has found away around that, which means the ship’s lost. Should have known Shepard’s choices would come back to bite us in the arse. We oughta be able to get to the escape pods.”

“What about the others? We can’t leave them.” Kasumi sounded strained, fear at the disastrous turn of events clear in her voice.

“Anyone who hasn’t been captured will have reached the same conclusion. We just have to hope we meet up with them later.” Garrus, ever the pragmatist, said. With that, the three of them headed away from the burnt out remnants of the cargo hold, the only crew members to make their way off the ship as more Cerberus vessels surrounded her.

~o~0~o~

Shepard gunned down yet another bank of security mechs trying to advance on his position. The strike team had made it almost all the way to the Illusive Man’s central chamber, and had encountered fairly little resistance. Aside from several clusters of mechs, including one nasty encounter with a hulking YMIR that had left several of the marines injured, they had encountered next to no enemy forces. Shepard wondered at the lack of organic enemies they had encountered. At times, it felt as though the station was deserted, save for the mechs. But then a squad of soldiers in the distinctive white armour with black and gold highlights that was so iconic of the terrorist organisation would come charging around the corner, guns blazing.

The Commander mowed down the last of the mechs, the machine dropping to the deck with a strained groan. He then turned to the leader of the marines, his second-in-command on this operation. The soldier quickly checked his omnitool.

“The objective should be just through that next set of doors, Commander.” He said, pointing. Shepard detected a note of hesitation to his voice.

“Something wrong, soldier?” He asked.

“I’m not getting any word from the Venice. Its like all the comms outside of this station have gone dead.”

“What about the Normandy? Can you get in touch with her?” Shepard felt a surge of nausea rise in his gut as worry for his friends threatened to overtake his mind. He waited tensely as the soldier switched frequencies.

“Nothing. Its like we’re the only Alliance troops in the system.”

“This is not good.”

“What are your orders, sir? Should we try to get off this station, see what happened to the fleet?”

“No. We carry out our orders. We take out the Illusive Man, we remove the man directing the forces out there, maybe help our own men.” Shepard said firmly.

“Aye, sir.” The marine turned to the rest of the team, marshalling them into formation.

Shepard pressed forwards, leading the strike team to the double doors at the end of the corridor. The team’s tech expert knelt next to the door, opening a panel and fiddling with the wires inside. In only a matter of seconds, the doors hissed open. Shepard stepped inside cautiously, looking around with a careful eye.

Beyond, he saw the same room he had become so familiar with during his dealings with the Illusive Man. It was a large, round room that had been cast into darkness. In the centre of the room, a massive blue sphere spun slowly, the planet Basite below the station. A three-legged chair sat before this holographic display, bank upon bank of glittering holo-displays hovering in the air before it. The floor was made of a dark, reflective tile, like polished glass. Set into this floor, between the door and the chair, a small circular pad glowed a faint blue, a holographic imager connected to the Illusive Man’s comm array.

Shepard turned in a full circle, aiming his rifle at every part of the room.

“Something is not right here…” He said slowly.

A loud hum drew his attention. He spun to look at the holo-imager. Light shimmered over the imager, forming itself into a figure Shepard knew all too well.

“Commander Shepard.” The Illusive Man said by way of greeting, drawing upon the lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Illusive Man.” Shepard said, holstering his rifle and folding his arms across his chest. “And this time I really thought I’d have the privilege of meeting you in person.”

“I’m sorry to keep disappointing you, Commander, but I think, given the circumstances, my reluctance to be physically present is understandable.” Another draw on the glowing cigarette. “Now, you’re already aware that you have fallen into our trap. Your ships have been disabled and are currently being boarded by my troops.”

“If just one of my crew comes to any harm-“ Shepard seethed.

“You should really focus on your own safety rather than that of your crew, Shepard.” The Illusive Man smirked.

The Commander became aware of a sudden hissing noise. He spun to see the door sliding shut, sealing the team in the darkened room with the Illusive Man’s ghostly image. Billowing clouds of fumes began seeping down from vents in the ceiling, just a sniff of which clung to the Commander’s throat and lungs, sending stars wheeling in his vision. The strike team stumbled to their knees, clutching at their throats and coughing violently.

“Why- are you doing this?” Shepard managed through his coughing fit.

“Because you’ve made it clear that we two cannot coexist.” The Illusive Man explained. “I’ve been tolerant of you, Shepard. You stole my ship, my personnel, my resources. You even denied Cerberus the chance to learn from the Collector Base. And still I allowed you to operate. I thought you would continue your fight against the Reapers. But instead you let the Alliance decide what you shall and shall not do. You continue to work to weed our agents out. This final attack was the last straw, and presented the perfect opportunity to lay this trap. Humanity needs Cerberus. Humanity needs me. And seeing as you are too blind to realise this, you shall be put in a place where you will no longer prove to be a hindrance.”

“Why not- just- kill me?” Shepard asked.

“Because no matter how much of a thorn in my side you prove to be, there is still the matter of what you represent. You symbolise the strength of our race. The hopes of the masses lie in you, Shepard, and we will need your inspiring presence in days to come. Better to keep you contained, controlled, than to just kill you outright.” The Illusive Man’s image knelt next to Shepard, who had fallen to the floor, struggling to stay up on all fours. “You were such a disappointment, Shepard. I really thought you understood our goals. Clearly I was wrong. You’re too much of an idealist. But these days call for practical men.”

Shepard felt his eyes grow weary as his body, flooded with the strange chemical in the air, began to shut down. As his eyes became heavy, lids drooping with every struggling breath, his thoughts went to the Normandy and his friends aboard. Before the darkness rose up to swallow him whole, his thoughts rested with one woman in particular, a troubled young woman with painted skin. His heart raced with worry for her, an overpowering desire that she was safe. If anything happened to her…

****… He heard her voice echo inside his head. You sound like a ****…

Modifié par fainmaca, 31 mai 2011 - 02:54 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 29: Shepard's Fifteen, Part C

~SAMARA~

Victor Lawson’s bedroom was, if possible, more opulent than the rest of the mansion. A roaring fire, logs crackling in its flames but not being consumed betraying the fact that it was fuelled by gas with a low ignition point, gave the room a warm glow that made beads of sweat threaten to trail down Samara’s back, although the heat wasn’t the only thing that made her sweat. Victor’s restraining arm held her close, trapped against his body as he guided her to his inner sanctum. She gazed about with nervous eyes, trying to keep a tremble out of her bare shoulders at the man’s touch.

The room itself was large, easily as big as the Normandy’s entire crew Mess and observation lounges combined. In her travels, Samara had seen apartments housing at least a dozen families that had less floorspace. The floors were tiled, a sparkling black marble mosaic, giving the impression one was walking upon the Void itself, gazing down at the infinite darkness of space. The walls had been painted a rich creamy colour, gilded with gold around the corners and on the beading that ran around the centre of the walls. The ceiling curved inwards to form flowing domes, the inside of which had been decorated with frescoes of famous moments from Earth’s history. One showed an astronaut from Humanity’s early space-faring years standing on a desolate grey plain. The Earth could be seen looming over the not so distant horizon, behind a blocky, round vehicle, a primitive landing craft. The astronaut held a flag Samara did not recognise, planting it into the colourless dust at his feet.

Towards the centre of the room, the floor had been decorated with several rugs of great value. One seemed to have been the pelt of an immense beast. Thick brown fur was soft and inviting, while the fearsome head, lips drawn back in an never-ending snarl upon its snout. The four limbs were splayed out, claws gripping the floor at the end of each one.

“Grizzly bear.” Victor explained, catching her glance. “Not too many of them around now, save for in zoos. My grandfather shot this one himself.”

Samara nodded, hiding her distaste for the trophy. She turned her attention to the rest of the room. A massive four-poster bed, decked out in red satin, dominated the centre of the room, and had a certain inevitability to it. The Asari quickly looked away before her gaze helped Lawson come up with any more ideas of his own.

Before she knew what was happening, the billionaire had shifted his grip on her, turning to face her and burying his face in the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. She thrilled to feel his lips working the way up the side of her neck, finding the corner of her jaw and seeking her mouth. For a moment she was lost in the sensation, her lips parting in response to his questing. As their mouths briefly met, she remembered who she was sharing this room with, what Lawson was really like, and instantly recoiled from the touch she had been revelling in. She spun away from him and he stumbled past her, surprised by her quick withdrawal. He looked at her in confusion for an instant before a leering grin crossed his face.

“Hard to get, huh? Unusual, to say the least, but it’ll make the endgame that much sweeter!” He said, moving towards her slowly, sinuously, like some predatory big cat stalking its prey.

The ex-Justicar shuffled backwards, away from him. Her high heels caught in the fabric of one of the rugs on the floor, causing her to stumble back. She caught herself on a dresser against the wall, palms outstretched behind her to slap against the wooden surface of the furniture. Seeing his chance, Lawson lunged forwards.

Samara brought a foot up to catch him across the chest, gently stopping his advance. The needle-like point of the heel rested over his sternum while the rest of the shoe put pressure on the upper part of his ribcage. The dress fell away from her smooth, silken blue calf and bent knee, coming to a halt halfway along her thigh and just serving to keep her covered. She panted a little from the tension of the moment, her back pressed against the wall as Lawson leaned against the sole of her foot, his eyes roving lustfully. He gazed up into her eyes questioningly, obviously frustrated by the ‘games’ his prey was playing.

“Now, now, Mr Lawson. Surely a lady deserves to get to know her suitor a little better before we get to that.” She said awkwardly.

“Enough games.” He said, a little anger creeping into his voice. Obviously he had reached his limit for being led on.

He swatted her foot out of the way, darting forward and catching her around the waist with rough hands. He lifted her from the dresser and, in a couple of steps, had carried her to the bed, where he cast her down. Before she had a chance to squirm away, he moved on top of her, grunting like a pig as he struggled to get himself comfortable. With quivering hands, he reached down to his waistband.

With timing which Samara at least appreciated, the communicator on the nightstand beeped. Lawson almost roared in frustration, clearly for a moment considering letting it ring off. When the droning tone persisted, however, eventually he rolled away from the Asari, picking up the device with a furious snatch.

“What! I’m very busy right now!” He fumed into the microphone. It was clear he was only holding back because of Samara’s company. There was a minute buzz from the other end as his subordinate explained why he was calling. “Well, you know what to do with them. Just shoot ‘em and dump the bodies.”

Samara felt her pulse quicken at the overheard conversation. An intruder had been discovered. But was it Shepard or young Vakarian? Or both? She struggled to keep her demeanour calm.

Lawson straightened as the caller explained further.

“A- are you sure?”

He sighed, turning to Samara as he lowered the comm. His shuddered, his pent-up lust finding no outlet and causing him great frustration.

“I’m afraid I’ve got to take this call. I will be back momentarily.” He slowly rolled off the bed, loathe to leave her company, and walked to a nearby door to another part of his quarters.

Samara waited until he had left the room before flopping back on the bed, her nervousness releasing itself in one relieved sigh. She knew she was not out of the woods yet, but she had a few more moments at least. But now she needed to figure out how to help her allies. If Shepard were the one threatened, then it was only a matter of time before his identity was found out. The Commander would be a prisoner of great worth to a man such as Victor Lawson. If it were the second team that had been compromised, then it would not be long before the alerted guards became aware of the additional intruders.

She got up off the bed, moving cautiously close to the door Victor had left through. It remained open a peek, and Samara was able to glance through.

The room beyond was apparently an en suite bathroom of some sort, gloriously decked out in white marble and gold. Victor Lawson stood in front of the full-length mirror that covered one wall. As Samara watched, the mirror shimmered before turning black. Out of the darkness, a familiar figure strode forwards.

“Victor.” The Illusive Man said sternly. “I thought I told you not to use this channel unless it was an emergency. Given the other threats that mankind faces at the moment, whatever you have to report had better be damned important.”

“I’m contacting you to barter for the location of Oriana.” Victor said stiffly, standing with his arms folded behind his back.

“If you think I’m about to give up the only thing securing your loyalty and continued funding, then you must have something of great value to bargain with.” The Illusive Man said, his tone indicating that he was intrigued to say the least.

“I should say so. Would the great Commander Shepard be payment enough?”

There was a long pause from the other end of the line.

“You have him in custody?”

“My guards are taking his unconscious body down to our cells as we speak.” Victor said, beginning to pace back and forth. “You gave me Miranda in exchange for using my facility for those experiments of yours. I expect nothing less than Oriana’s return, unharmed, to me.”

“And what of her current family?” The Illusive Man asked. Samara had doubts he was actually concerned for them, just buying time.

“She is an investment, a creation of science. She can no more have a family than a calculator or a test tube can. You may deal with any impostors who say otherwise as you please.”

“I see.” The Illusive Man bristled at Lawson’s haughty tone, but clearly the billionaire had the advantage in this conversation.

“If you are unhappy with the terms, I could always let Shepard go…” Victor said, a bluff.

“You know as well as I do that that would not be wise. I had once hoped to turn Shepard to our cause, but he’s too idealistic. With all the threats in the Galaxy, he instead chose to focus on weeding us out. It’s clear that the Commander and Cerberus cannot coexist.” The Illusive Man raised his cigarette to his lips, drawing deeply on it. “And, of course, he’d be all too happy to take on any of our backers, past and present. You let Shepard go, and he’ll keep coming after you until you’re imprisoned or dead.”

“So you’d rather he was executed, then?” Victor asked, a tone of hesitation in his voice.

“Not at all. Despite the fact that the Commander and I are such vehement foes, the Galaxy needs both of us to weather the coming storm, and Humanity even more so. The loss of such an idealistic hero would be fatal to the morale of soldiers across the Galaxy, and at the same time the Alliance needs a pragmatist to look our for our race’s best interests.”

“You make it sound as though you’re both two sides of the same coin.” Victor commented.

“Nothing as crude as that. It’s just that the great tree that is Humanity needs the shining sun to inspire it to grow, but at the same time it needs the thundering rain to give it the resources to do so.” The Cerberus mastermind lifted his other hand to his mouth, raising a glass of rich golden fluid to his lips and sipping it with an appreciative sigh. “The loss or death of either would cause Humanity to wither.”

“Well you have my price.” Victor said firmly.

“I also expect your continued support financially.” The Illusive Man said, turning away from the screen.

“You’ll have it.”

“Good.” The Cerberus leader sat down on his chair, turning back to Lawson. “I trust you are taking the necessary precautions to keep the Commander contained?”

“We’re moving him to our most secure cell block. Biotic dampening fields, multiple redundant locking mechanisms. He won’t be breaking himself out.”

“And what of his squad?”

“The two women and the Turian will be kept in separate cells.”

“He only had three companions?” The Illusive Man asked.

“Does it matter? We’ve got him.”

“My dear Victor, if you haven’t captured the whole squad, then you haven’t captured anyone.” The Illusive man said with a smirk. “I’ll be impressed if you survive the night.”

“My guards are up to the task.” Victor said stubbornly. “Any attempt at rescue is bound to fail. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some company in the next room, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Company?” The Illusive Man’s eyes tightened. “What’s her name?”

“Why should that be any of your business?” Victor asked unreasonably.

“Her name, Victor. Your daughter’s life could hang upon the answer.”

“Samara. She’s an Asari named Samara.”

The Illusive Man’s laugh rang out.

“Oh, you blind fool! Bad enough to be fooled by a woman, but an alien?”

“What do you mean?”

“Samara is not only one of Shepard’s followers, but Cerberus pointed him in her direction. We paid for her to join his crew to take on the Collectors.”

“That… that ****!” Victor fumed. “I should have known…”

“Yes, you should have. No doubt she’s been rifling through your private files while you’ve been in here. My congratulations, Victor. You have taken gullibility to a new level. Good luck surviving the next few hours, Mr Lawson. End transmission.”

Samara backed away from the door as Victor wheeled around from the fading transmission, teeth set in a feral growl as he charged at the door. She backed up and hit a dresser, hearing a subtle clink. She looked down to see a bottle of liquor on the dresser, a golden fluid labelled ‘whiskey’. Her hand curled around it.

Victor burst into the bedroom, looking about furiously. He growled upon seeing the empty bed and whirled around to scan the room. As he turned, a bottle swung out of nowhere, striking him square across the nose. The glass shattered, sending razor-sharp shards and powerful, fuming liquid into his eyes. He howled as his face was lacerated by the glass, the strength of the whiskey burning his wounds. His eyes screamed in agony, glass splinters and liquor reducing his vision to a red blur.

As the billionaire yowled in agony, Samara lashed out with a foot, catching him in the gut. He grabbed at her, catching a hold of the elegant shoe. She kicked again with the foot, her balance threatening to elude her as she tottered on one foot. With a snap, the strap broke, releasing her from his grip and leaving him holding an expensive green shoe. Before he could recover, she used her biotics to enhance a punch, knocking Victor to the ground, out cold.

Panting, her dress ripped in a couple of places, Samara turned away from the unconscious man, heading for the door. With only one shoe on, she hobbled unsteadily before stopping, deciding running barefoot would be easier. She cast the second shoe aside and ran for the door, using Victor’s stolen codes to open it. She slipped through the door and was gone.

She tried her best to retrace her steps, making her way down several levels until at last she stepped out into the grand hall once more. She took a breath to calm herself and descended from the balcony level to the main floor. She did her best to navigate the crowd unnoticed, proceeding towards the front door. She walked past the guard on duty, only for him to fall in step behind her. Her pulse raced as she thought she might have been caught, only to recognise Jacob’s steady gait underneath the Lawson estate uniform.

The pair found a secluded spot in the midst of a copse of trees on the mansion grounds and Jacob removed his helmet, glad to be free of the slightly-too-tight article.

“What the hell’s goin’ on? Comm chatter’s been goin’ crazy about intruders and now you come runnin’ out with no shoes like Cinderella.” He demanded.

“The Commander has been captured. Lawson tried to bargain with the Illusive Man, with Shepard as a bargaining chip in exchange for his daughter’s safety.”

“Miranda?” Jacob asked, tensing. Say what you liked about their past and the distance between them now, he was protective of her.

“No, Oriana, the younger one. Needless to say, after the conversation my identity was revealed and I was forced to make an exit.”

“Where is Lawson now?”

“Unconscious, on his bedroom floor.”

“Kinky.”

“Enough. The Commander is at risk. This is no time to jest.”

“Sorry. You’re right.” Jacob looked around. He noted an armoured vehicle moving out from behind the mansion, making its way to the front gates. “Looks like they’re locking this place down as quietly as they can.” He tapped his comm. “Normandy, do you copy? Normandy, come in.”

He frowned at the blast of static that was emitted from the device.

“Damn it. Looks like they’re jamming any and all signals in and out of the estate. We can talk to anyone inside the walls, otherwise the guards would be unable to speak to one another, but we can’t reach the ship, and they can’t reach us. We’re stuck inside, just like everyone else here.”

The pair jumped as Jacob’s communicator crackled.

“Normandy team, this is Feron. Is anyone out there?”

“Feron!” Jacob almost shouted with relief. “Good to hear from you buddy.”

“The guards down in the tunnels just started buzzing around like no one’s business. It’s getting hard to stay hidden down here. There something I should know about?”

“The Commander’s been captured, and Lawson’s forces are on high alert. You still tuned in to the exterior security systems?”

“For now. Not sure how long I can stay here, though.”

“Do what you can to scramble it, then get back above ground and try to find us.”

“On it.”

The seconds passed by painfully slowly, every snapping twig and rustling leave putting the Asari and the Human on edge, fearing against discovery. After an interminable pause, the comm crackled again.

“Done.” Feron said. “The system’s fried. Should take them about an hour to undo the damage. They’ll know we’re here, but I figure subtlety is no longer a priority. At least they won’t be able to find us using the exterior cams or sensors.”

“Great job. Now, find a way above ground and then we’ll regroup. We need to figure out what we’re gonna do about Shepard.” He deactivated his commlink. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”

Setting off at a light jog, Jacob and Samara vanished into the darkness, moving off in search of Feron.

~o~0~o~

~GARRUS~

The second team thundered down the sterile metal corridors. Garrus had moved to the front of the pack, his assault rifle aimed before him as he hurried towards their objective. Etarn hustled behind him, the crate beginning to weigh heavily on the Batarian’s shoulders after all this time. Elanie and Mordin were covering the rear, the Salarian still breathing raggedly from the grievous wound he had taken back in the hangar. The doctor favoured his left side, and was finding it hard to keep up with the rest of the squad, but he doggedly persisted. Garrus was a little worried about him. After an injury of that nature he needed to rest, not push himself through a dangerous mission like this. But, until they had achieved their mission goals, they had no choice but to press forwards. There was no guarantee they’d have a second shot at the labs underneath the Lawson mansion.

The doors on either side were transparent, looking in upon sterile laboratories filled with bubbling equipment and blinking monitors. In some, Garrus caught sight of scientists, smothered in white suits that kept foreign matter from contaminating the clean environment, shuffling about, so engrossed in their work that they failed to notice the fully armed squad passing by the doorway. Nevertheless, the Turian did not linger.

The team paused at a terminal installed at an intersection between two broad corridors. Garrus silently waved Elanie over, allowing the Shadow Broker agent to get to work hacking it.

“Downloading schematics for the labs. Shouldn’t be too hard to find the main lab.” Her brow creased as she moved to power down the terminal. “Got some other files stored on here. Looks like some encrypted logs.”

“Let’s see what Lawson’s got them working on down here.” Garrus ordered. Elanie nodded, typing a command on the holographic interface. In moments, she had decrypted the data. An image jumped out of the terminal, the face of a weary scientist.

“The latest generation has yielded some less-than-satisfactory results. It would appear that the mutation to the mRNA to increase stamina is too unstable. The signals are too distorted for the body to make any use of them. In most cases, the body gets confused and protein synthesis is slowed to a fraction of the speed needed. However, subject two four nine one has exhibited an extremely adverse reaction to the treatment. Somehow the body’s protein was no longer being created, but was rather being broken down. The subject’s cells then proceeded consume themselves from the inside out. Subject death was recorded seven hours after brain activity was first logged. We shall resume the tests tomorrow once the defective subjects have been disposed of.”

The display flickered and faded, leaving the squad staring at a blank screen. Dreading what he might hear, the Turian turned to Mordin.

“Any of that make sense to you, Doc? I know I need a translation.”

“Genetic modification project, as expected.” Mordin said stiffly. “However, was not able to anticipate nature of tests. Forced mutation of mRNA, messenger ribonucleic acids, to alter protein production in body. Crude, brutal, unrefined. Such tests akin to sculpting small ornaments with a sledgehammer.” The large-eyed alien began pacing about uneasily, clearly agitated. “Such mutations banned by Citadel treaties, for good reason. No benefit to be gained by these tests, so why continue?”

“They’re doing this to living beings?” Elanie asked, her voice hollow.

“Likely cloned tissue from single donor to keep variation to a minimum. Mention of brain activity would indicate culturing embryos until nervous system has time to form, then watching effects of mutations implanted upon artificial conception of life form.” The Salarian sniffed, anger becoming apparent in his voice. “Disgusting use of intellect. Subjects are incapable of understanding, but aware enough to feel pain. Cruel, monstrous!”

“Much as I hate to say this, we’re not here to stop these experiments, I’m afraid.” Garrus said, a lump in his throat strangling the words. “We have our orders. We get the intel on Cerberus and get the hell out of here.”

“I’m sure the Commander won’t object to nuking the site from orbit once we’re done here.” Etarn muttered. “We Batarians possess a cruel culture, but nothing that equates to this. These labs are an abomination.”

“We have to keep moving.” The Turian ordered. “Come on.”

The team moved on down the corridors, following the map Elanie had managed to steal from the terminal. They wove their way through the maze of corridors underneath the Lawson mansion, eventually making their way to the centre of the facility.

Garrus abruptly called a halt to their steady march, holding a single long talon to his mouth in a silencing gesture. He waved Elanie forward and the pair glanced around the corner they had come to a stop at.

A pair of large double doors announced the entrance to the main lab, the heart of the complex. In front of them, a squad of four guards stood watch, with a pair of turrets dangling down from the ceiling. The pair drew back around the corner out of sight. Garrus leaned close to the Human, whispering in her ear.

“I reckon we can take out the guards easy enough, but the turrets are going to be a problem. Any chance you can do something about that from this distance?”

“It’s a bit of a stretch, but I think so. I’m just about at the limit of my range for this kind of hack. Luckily, these things are dead simple machines. Anything with VI-level software, I’d struggle with.”

“Good.” Garrus turned to the rest of the team. “Etarn, I want you leading the charge with me. Mordin, I want you to hang back. Watch Elanie’s back.”

“Wound is not a hindrance, Vakarian. Can fight by your side.” The Salarian said stubbornly.

“Just do as I say.” Garrus growled. “If Elanie does her job right, we’ll only have to deal with two guards each, and I think we’ve proved that we’re better than these part-time mall cops any day of the week. Stay back here, and watch our backs.”

The Doctor looked like he was about to press on with his argument, but caught the glint in the Turian’s eye and slowly closed his mouth, nodding reluctantly.

“Good. Now Elanie, I want you to hack the turret on my mark. We’ll charge in, guns blazing, and hopefully we’ll take ‘em all by surprise.” Garrus waited for his squad to confirm his orders before settling into a crouch at the corner, Etarn moving up next to him. Elanie stood behind them, keying her omnitool into a suitable frequency for her hack. Once they were all ready, the Turian’s legs tensed, ready to send him into a full sprint. His fingers curled around the trigger of his gun. “Three… Two… Mark!”

The Turian and the Batarian dashed out from their cover, Garrus already pulling the trigger as he rounder the corner. Etarn was more selective with his fire, but no less effective. The Turian’s stream of bullets thudded into the wall around the two guards on one side of the doorway, finding his mark more than a few times as he swept the muzzle of the rifle back and forth. The first guard barely had time to raise his arm in a reflexive move to defend himself before his barriers flickered and died, exposing him to the full force of the deadly hail racing towards him at supersonic speeds. His armour offered little protection under the brutal assault, a line of red holes appearing along his chest, running from the lower left side of his rib cage up to his right shoulder. The second one fared, slightly better, managing to get his own weapon up and aimed at the attackers before Garrus’ bullets found his shields. As his barriers flickered blue around him he returned fire, scoring a few hits on the lanky alien running straight at him. The Turian winced as his armour pinged, deflecting a few shots that had found their way through his shields. Disrupter rounds, modded to go straight through a shield. Not a non-biotic’s friend. He intensified his fire, pausing for a moment in the open to steady his weapon and fire straight. Three sharp shots sounded out, two bouncing off the guard’s shields while the third found its way through, punching a hole in the brow of the face-plate of the helmet. The guard stiffened, falling backwards.

Etarn, meanwhile, waved a hand in front of him in a sinuous motion, creating a biotic barrier between himself and the enemy. He then lifted his SMG and sent off several bursts of fire at the guards. The first one staggered back from the impacts to his shields, but had enough time to lift his weapon and aim at the Batarian. He managed to squeeze off two shots before a second burst from the SMG tore away the last of his shields, leaving him exposed. The next squeeze of the four-eyed alien’s trigger tore through his belly, causing him to slump to the floor in a growing red puddle. The last of the guards watched as his three comrades were gunned down coldly, and turned to run, heading straight for the lab door. He managed several steps before a spray of bullets punctured the back of his armour, one finding his calf and causing him to stumble. The next one found the small of his back, splitting his spinal cord and sending him to the floor, darkness washing over his vision.

Overhead, the turrets ground around to aim at the two intruders. As Garrus scored his first kill, the turret on the left opened fire. It’s powerful bark sounded out, sending a cloud of metal straight at the Turian. His shields absorbed the majority of the impact, although he felt the blow like a hammer striking his gut. Nevertheless, Garrus held steady long enough to gun down his second guard.

The opposite turret fired a single shot at Etarn before locking up. Green lines of power coursed along its exterior, finding their way to it’s central brain and rewriting a few key lines of code. As the green light faded, the turret swung around, attacking its counterpart. In seconds, the two turrets were firing at one another mercilessly, chunks of armour and wiring cascading to the floor as they scored hit after hit. It took only a matter of moments for one to destroy the other, the barely functional survivor being easily finished off by a callous shot from Garrus’ red-hot rifle.

The corridor fell silent after that, only the hiss of the squad’s cooling weapons making a noise in the sudden stillness. Garrus deliberately pumped the reload mechanism on his rifle, sending a white-hot clip tinkling across the floor at his feet. He turned to the waiting Elanie and Mordin, gesturing for them to step over.

The Shadow broker agent moved over to the door, kneeling next to it and working with the controls to hack the locking mechanism.

“Make it quick, Elanie. If there was anyone in there, then they probably heard all of this.”

“Mmm, doubtful.” Mordin said. “Sealed environment to protect cultured tissue from contamination. Will be airtight, and therefore soundproof. Scientists inside will be unaware of intrusion.”

The door beeped under Elanie’s skilled hands, sliding open smoothly. Garrus nodded to the rest of the team to follow him closely.

Inside, they were greeted by the sight of a vast chamber. The lab was filled with the bubbling of the two dozen tanks occupying the majority of the room, six lining the walls on either side while a further two rows of six each dominated the centre of the lab. Against the back wall, a massive structure, shaped like an hourglass with a pinch in the middle, reached from floor to ceiling. Blinking displays and loose wiring betrayed its purpose as the lab’s central computer, monitoring the rows of tanks and the four operating tables against the back wall on either side of the machine. The entire room was starkly lit by brilliant white lights, giving the polished surfaces an extremely clean look.

Six scientists wandered amid the machinery, checking readouts and tweaking components here and there. One inserted a syringe into a pipe feeding into one of the tanks, drawing off a sample of the fluid within. All six turned as a red light began to strobe over the doorway.

“Alert. Containment breached. Environmental contamination detected.” A VI quietly announced. Garrus didn’t wait for their presence to properly register with the scientists.

“Everybody, hands in the air! Now!” He roared.

The scientists, flustered and confused, milled about blearily. One, a woman with blonde hair, screamed at the sight of the team’s weapons pointed straight at her and her colleagues. Her fellows seemed to focus at that, some shouting in consternation as the squad moved to block off any approach to the exit.

“I said hands in the air!” The Turian growled. Still the scientists dithered. “I’m gonna count to three, and if so much as one of you doesn’t have their hands behind their heads, we’re gonna start shooting. One…”

He needed count no further. A dozen shaking hands shot towards the ceiling, clamping together behind their owners’ heads.

“That’s much better.” Garrus purred, the sound more menacing than any shout he could muster. His eyes flicked over to a small door to one side. He stalked over to it and opened it, revealing a small store room. After making sure there were no chemicals the scientists could use against his team, he turned back to his captives. “Into the cupboard.”

The scientists shuffled in, some throwing the alien dirty looks as they passed.

“Cut the attitude and get in.” The Turian ordered gruffly. He slammed the door behind them, grabbing a hold of a trolley bearing a selection of instruments. He cleared the trolley with one sweep of his hand, turned it over and shoved it against the door, wedging the thing closed. “Should hold them long enough.” He muttered.

Elanie, meanwhile, moved over to the computer, beginning to work her technical magic on its controls. While she did this, the rest of the team looked pensively at the tanks. Garrus leaned close to one, inspecting the contents.

“Empty.” He muttered as he gazed at the bubbling turquoise fluid.

“Likely that scientists were approaching end of shift. Would have disposed of today’s tests.” Mordin explained, waving his omnitool over the tank. “Fluid present within is a ‘protein soup’ of sorts. Place fertilised egg inside, and it grows overnight, doing in hours what would take a Human female nine months.”

“So I guess these scientists were in here… planting tomorrow’s crop?” Etarn asked awkwardly.

“Simple analogy, but fairly accurate.” The Salarian admitted.

“Vakarian, you will want to take a look at this.” Elanie called over her shoulder.

The Turian, Salarian and Batarian all strode up to the massive computer, Garrus taking a place next to Elanie while Mordin and Etarn had to make do glimpsing over their shoulders at the monitor she stood in front of. She tapped out a few commands and a string of logs and reports sprung up. A few taps on the interface, and one expanded to fill the display. Another scientist’s eager features filled the screen as a vid began to play.

“Dust-form eezo saturation of the subjects began today, and the results are… impressive, to say the least. I can see now why the Illusive Man stipulated these tests as part of the deal in exchange for Mr Lawson’s daughter. The nodules growing in the embryos are twice the size of those belonging to any Human biotic before now. With the sheer concentration of element zero in the systems of these subjects, they would grow to possess prodigious biotic powers. We just have to figure out a way to encourage enough exposure in the womb without killing the mother. Until then, we’re stuck testing on these vat-grown lumps of meat.

“It boggles the mind! A procedure available in Alliance hospitals to create genetically engineered biotics, more powerful than any Asari Matriarch or Krogan Battlemaster. Every Asari has biotics, why shouldn’t our race be given the same advantage?”

The vid ended, replaced by a list of names.

“What’s this?” Garrus inquired.

“A list of donors.” Elanie explained, reading through the names. “The parents of these test subjects?”

“No.” Mordin said, glancing over her shoulder. “At least, not completely. List comprised of male Humans. Potentially list of fathers, possibly gene pool combined to create superior genetic code to infuse with eggs.”

“I recognise some of these names.” Garrus muttered.

“I’m not surprised.” Elanie said, pointing to one. “Daniel Massetti? He’s that sensory musician. Known halfway across Citadel Space. Steven Dorstown. A famous holodrama actor.”

“Kent Marx, Gorston Harris, Klint Dornall. A lot of these names are captains and generals in the Alliance military, if these summaries are correct.” Garrus muttered, reading the data attached to one of the names. “Which I’m sure they are. Lawson isn’t the kind of guy who’ll get caught out by a fake, not with the money he can move around.”

“Where did they get the tissue from?” Elanie pondered. “I very much doubt Lawson has gone around every major figure in the Alliance asking for a pint of blood.”

“Pint would be unnecessary.” Mordin piped up. “Given modern cell culturing methods, single drop of blood, handful of skin flakes or single hair would be sufficient to obtain genetic code.”

“That still leaves the question of where he got it from.” Elanie insisted.

“Lawson’s got deep pockets.” Garrus observed. “The soldiers wouldn’t be too hard. The Alliance would keep tissue samples from all recruits. Standard procedure. If a soldier loses an eye or a kidney in battle, then the doctors can get to work growing a new one while he’s still in transit to them. Less time waiting for a new body part, the better a chance that he’ll pull through.”

“Hang on a sec,” Elanie said, tapping the interface a few more times. A more in depth summary of the donor list popped up. “Yep, says it right here. Where they got the sample, what it was, and how much of the stuff they’ve cultured to date.”

“The Hollywood Bank of Fame?” Etarn asked unbelievingly.

“It’s a kind of art gallery of Humanity’s rich and famous.” Elanie explained. “If some billionaire’s little princess or a rock star or even a politician wants, they can pay for an exhibit to be created about them, a small display that details who they are, what they’ve done. They think it’ll keep them young forever in the public eye. One part of the process is to submit a selection of DNA samples. Blood, hair, nail, skin and oral swabs are expected, certain others are appreciated, and a few are accepted but promptly sold off to their adoring fans. You’d be surprised at what someone will pay for a pint of Yolanda Ghen’s urine.”

“You’ve obviously never heard of what a quad sells for on the black market.” Garrus smirked. “So that explains where and how they got a hold of these samples, but it still leaves the question of why.”

“Think about it for a second, Vakarian.” Elanie prompted. “Some of these DNA samples come from the most powerful and wealthy Humans on the Galactic stage. They will have invested billions of their own credits into making themselves fit, healthy and beautiful. A bumper crop of good genes to choose from.”

“But they’ve paid to have those benefits forced upon their genes. They weren’t born that way.” The Turian argued.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is what gets passed on to the offspring. If the test subject inherits several billion dollars worth of genetic tinkering, then Lawson’s a happy man.”

“Garrus.” Etarn said suddenly, sharply. The Turian from Elanie to see the Batarian pointing at an entry on the screen. He followed the pointing finger, his breath catching in his chest as he read the entry at the bottom of the list.

“What?” Elanie asked, trying to push Garrus aside to see. “What is it?”

“It’s Shepard. He’s on this list.” Garrus said, his voice steely with anger. “They stole the Commander’s genes and put it into a lump of meat for an experiment.”

Elanie was silent for a moment, contemplating the repercussions of this new information.

“Well I’m not gonna be the one to tell him.” She said quickly. “He is gonna be royally pissed.”

“You have no idea.” Garrus murmured. He shivered, straightening. “What else have we got here?”

“Hang on.”

The list vanished, and yet another log entry played out, an earlier timestamp than the first the team had seen.

“Our primary subject has been delivered intact. Preliminary scans have turned up something anomalous. It would seem that the subject’s genetic code is destabilising. I’m not quite sure why, but its clear that the genetic modifications present are defective. It’s a subtle affliction, staring with the deep organs and only manifesting with maturity, but our estimates suggest that the subject will not live past fifty. I only wish we could analyse the other surviving specimen from Generation Gamma to see if this is an isolated problem, or if it affects all siblings of Gamma equally. Nevertheless, Mr Lawson has urged us to proceed with cultivating Generation Delta. Perhaps he feels that the fault can be identified and eliminated in the new generation.

“In order to preserve the tissue, I have placed the subject in cryo-stasis in the cradle for now. We will thaw the subject out when we need to collect more samples, but it seems to be the best way to prevent the corruption from spreading to other parts of the body.”

“Subject…” Garrus breathed. “You don’t think he’s talking about Miranda, do you?”

“I hope not.” Elanie said, her voice shaking. “Poor thing. She’s no more than an experiment to these monsters.”

“Try to find out what that ‘cradle’ is. If she’s in it, then we need to get her thawed out.” The Turian said decisively.

“Looking… Got it. According to the computer, its in this room. I’ll open it up now.”

There was a groan, and the whole structure the computer was built into shuddered. A brilliant white line of light appeared, splitting the structure from top to bottom. The structure split in half, the two halves moving away to reveal something inside. White mist boiled out into the room, sending a chill through the air. It was only then that Garrus realised the thinking behind this strange hiding place. The ‘cradle’ was a cryo-stasis pod, designed to keep one occupant contained in suspended animation. The computer, a device that generated a lot of heat processing the complexity of the genetic codes it worked with, used what was essentially a gigantic block of ice to keep itself cool.

The mist slowly cleared, revealing the ‘cradle’s’ sole occupant. Garrus averted his eyes the moment he noticed that Miranda was not clothed, caught by surprise by the fact that the scientists had not even afforded her that dignity. She was held in place by several large metal clamps, grasping her arms, legs neck and abdomen to keep her completely immobilised. Her raven-black hair dangled down past her perfectly formed face, the sapphire eyes locked shut in the slumber of one in stasis.

Elanie strode right up to her, wading through the freezing fog. The ‘cradle’ beeped, beginning the thawing process. As the room slowly began to warm again, the Shadow Broker agent turned to Garrus.

“Come on, Vakarian! Help me get her down!”

Slowly, bashfully, Garrus stepped in beside her. While trying not to look at what he was doing, the Turian fumbled with the fastening on one of the clamps, feeling his mandibles flare involuntarily in the Turian equivalent of a blush as his gloved talons brushed yielding white flesh.

“Oh! For god’s- Will you look at what you’re doing!” Elanie snapped. She cast a glare his way and became aware of the Turian’s awkwardness. “Oh, for goodness sake! We’re not a bunch of kids in the schoolyard! So she’s naked, so what? We need to get her out of this thing. Now grow a pair and help me get her down from here.”

Garrus swallowed and turned to help, trying not to let his eyes roam. Whatever Elanie said, Miranda was still his colleague, and he knew this was going to make things awkward for a good long while.

Working together, the Turian and the Human snapped the clamps open, slowly lowering the snow-white form to the floor, where she lay perfectly still, barely even breathing.

“You! Etarn. Pass me that crate.”

“Maybe now you’ll tell us why I had to lug this thing all this way?” Etarn asked as he dumped the crate next to Miranda’s prone form.

“Shepard and I were expecting her to at least have a medical smock or something, but we knew she wouldn’t be well-equipped for an escape attempt.” Elanie explained as she opened up the crate. “The Commander had your little talking blue ball thing dig through its databases to find her specs for her old battle armour. She’ll be groggy and weak when she wakes up, but at least she’ll have something between her and any bullets coming her way.”

The woman grunted as she lifted Miranda up into a sitting position to better adjust her back plate. She shot a glare at Garrus, commanding him to come help. With awkward hands, Garrus supported her partially naked form as Elanie worked to fasten the armour around her. As she worked, the monitor she had been standing at before warbled loudly. She glanced at it before returning her attention to dressing the unconscious Miranda.

“See what that is.” She ordered.

Garrus stepped up to the computer, reading the message that had come through. He was silent for a moment, alarm evident in his expression.

“The bastards have Shepard!” He exclaimed. Even Elanie paused in her ministrations at this development.

“What?” Etarn asked, disbelief in his tone. “Where?”

“Says they caught the Commander leaving Lawson’s office.” Garrus explained, reading from the display. “He was accompanied by three others, two Human women and a Turian.”

“Jack, Kasumi and Delexia.” Etarn surmised.

“They’ve been moved down to the cell block in the sub-levels.” The Turian continued. “They’re on the same floor! They can’t be far away!”

“Let me see.” Elanie demanded, finishing with Miranda and stepping up to the computer. She typed in a few commands. “Okay, the cell block’s not far from here. Even with a moderate number of guards between here and there, we should have no trouble getting to Shepard. Getting out, now. That will be the real trick.”

“We’ll figure it out once we get Shepard out of those cells.” Garrus said firmly, kneeling down next to Miranda. He carefully scooped her up, positioning her in the crook of his arm, her head with its cascading midnight locks resting on his shoulder. He drew his rifle, toting it one-handed, and turned to the rest of his team.

“Ready to go?” He asked in a tone that promised suffering for the one not ready to race to the rescue of their Commander.

“Ready.”

“Ready, Vakarian.”

“Let’s go, Turian.”

Modifié par fainmaca, 04 juin 2011 - 02:20 .

[fainmaca]

Chapter 29: Shepard's Fifteen, Part C Part 2

~SHEPARD~

Pain.

It dominated Shepard’s world as he slowly breached the clinging surface of consciousness. His head pulsed, throbbed would have been a better word, to the pounding rhythm of his heart, every life-giving clench of the organ sending a wave of agony through his skull. He groaned, rolling onto his side with his eyes tightly screwed shut.

“Shepard? Is that you?”

“Jack.” Shepard felt his pulse quicken. She was alive, and close by from the sound of her voice.

“I can’t see.” She sounded as though she was on the verge of panic. “Where are you?”

Shepard’s eyes snapped open, his retinas screeching in protest as the dim light of the cell assaulted them. He blinked a few times, his vision slowly returning. He struggled to get to his feet, a little unsteady as his head whirled, struggling to shake off the after effects of the stun grenade.

The cell the squad was in was roughly fifteen feet by fifteen feet, cramped enough for two, let alone four. Three walls were featureless steel, the fourth housing a thick metal door with a tiny slit of a window at eye height allowing precious little light to filter in. By this thin beam, Shepard examined the rest of the cell.

Two beds had been placed in the cell, little more than metal frames with a blanket of coarse fabric flung over them. The Commander could see the slumped form of Kasumi, her hair in a tangle around her soft features as she breathed deeply, fully unconscious. Against the back wall of the cell, Delexia had been propped up in a sitting position, though she had toppled to one side, her head resting against the leg of one of the cots. She shifted a little, but was still some way away from coming to. Shepard wasn’t oblivious to the fact that the non-Human had been left on the floor.

His eyes turned to the second cot in the room. A tiny form sat at the very end of the cot, perched precariously on the edge. Her legs were curled up in front of her, her arms clutching her knees to her chest in a manner reminiscent of a small mammal cowering in the dark. Her head had lifted up, the deep brown eyes darting in the direction of the noises he was making, but he could tell from the lack of focus to her expression that she could not see him. She jumped as he sat on the cot next to her, almost tumbling to the floor.

With a gentle but firm hand, he took a hold of her quivering fingers, a comforting presence. She turned to face him, using the faint breath brushing her cheek as a way to find him. Hazel eyes roved about sightlessly, pupils completely dilated.

“Jack, I want you to stay calm.” Shepard said gently, hoping his voice would help to soothe her frayed nerves. “I think your retinas have been burned out by the flashbang that knocked you out. I’m not sure if it’ll fix itself, but that won’t matter when we get back to the Normandy. Archer will fix you up in no time.”

Jack relaxed a fraction, her fingers curling around Shepard’s tightly. The loss of one’s sight was a jarring experience, no matter how tough that individual might be.

“Urgh… Anyone get the license plate of that thing?” Kasumi grumbled as she slowly awoke, clutching at her head. “Gotta learn to look both ways before I cross the street.”

Beside her, Delexia lifted her head, coming awake rather more quickly. She looked around in confusion for a moment before memory caught up with her. She stumbled to her feet, her dress’s hem in rags around her ankles. The Turian’s sharp eyes scanned their cell before she wandered over to the door, leaning forward to place her eyes at the tiny window in it.

“Can’t see anything out there. Just the far wall.” She muttered. “There could be no guards, or there could be fifty. Got no way to tell.”

“Any idea how long we’ve been out?” Shepard asked.

“No way to tell.” Delexia answered. “They took our ‘tools and any jewellery we had.”

“I think one of our captors took his duties a little too far.” Kasumi said indignantly as she adjusted the waistband of her jumpsuit. “Someone’s definitely had a rummage around down there.”

“They got everything. It wouldn’t surprise me if they took Jack’s amp while they were at it.”

“They can’t. It’s built-in.” Jack said. “But I guess that’d explain this…”

The convict turned her head, allowing Shepard to inspect the golden piece of tech that covered her right ear. There was a trickle of blood seeping out from where the metal halted and her skin began, a sign of an attempt to forcibly remove the amp. Having failed to disarm the biotic, Lawson’s staff had attached a device to the amp, a resistor of sorts. Judging by the way it was wired up, if too much power ran through the device it would shock the user. He explained as much to her. She only chuckled.

“Figures, seeing as Cheerleader’s dad was a Cerberus lackey.”

“So you’ve dealt with this kind of device before?”

“Yeah, once. Bounty hunter hired by the Illusive Man had one of these that he put on me. Hurts like a **** every time you try and think about using your biotics. That makes it impossible to concentrate enough, so it keeps a biotic of any strength contained. If you try and push through the pain, the charge just goes up and up until you stop, one way or another.”

“Kasumi, think you can get it off her?”

“Don’t bother.” Jack sneered. “Tamper-proof. You’ll need the Normandy’s lab if you want to work on it.”

“You must have found a way to get it off the last time.” Shepard said.

“Got lucky. The **** thought he’d try his luck. The damn thing got broken it the fight. Next thing he knew, he was staring up his own ass.”

“So what now, Shepard?” Delexia demanded after a glum pause. “We’ve got nothing to use to try and open the door, no biotics and no weapons.”

As she folded her arms across her chest, the door behind her clanked loudly. The squad tensed as the mechanism made a grinding noise.

As the three-inch thick steel door swivelled open with a creak that set the Commander’s teeth on edge, the broadly grinning features of Garrus Vakarian appeared in the doorway.

“Be honest with me, is it a Human thing, all this getting captured and thrown in a cell? ‘Cause it happens so frequently with you that it must be a hobby.”

“Don’t get me started on hobbies, Mr ‘Calibrations’.” Shepard quipped back. His face split into a wide smile. “Good work finding us.”

“Wasn’t hard. We just followed the guards when we noticed they were all running in the same direction. Chances are, if there's **** hitting the fan, you’re the one flinging it.” The Turian chuckled as he stepped back to allow the cell’s occupants to step out gingerly, squinting as they entered the much brighter light of the corridor. Shepard gently eased Jack to her feet, guiding her out by taking a hold of her arm at the elbow while his other hand took hers.

“Mordin!” Shepard called upon catching sight of the Salarian. “Jack needs your help.”

The Doctor hurried over, grabbing her face with one hand while he waved his omnitool over her blank expression with the other. She flinched at the unexpected touch, but endured the examination. Moments later, the alien let out a grunt of understanding.

“Unable to treat this here. Will need Normandy’s equipment to restore sight. Simple procedure, but not one that can be done out in the field.”

“So you can put my eyes back to how they were before?” Jack asked hopefully.

“No. Can make them better than before. Treatment is known to increase the spectrum of light that can be registered by rods and cones of eye, extending sight slightly into infrared and ultraviolet bands. At very least, corneas will be adjusted to optimum thickness.”

“Translation?” Jack asked, her expression creasing quizzically as her head turned to face the Commander clasping her arm.

“Not only will you get your sight back, but you’ll have twenty-twenty vision.” Shepard muttered in her ear.

“Then why didn’t he just ****ing say so?”

“Hate to tell you, but he just did.” Shepard chuckled. He turned to his old Turian friend. “Did you get the data we needed from the labs?”

“That and then some, Shepard. Cerberus has been forcing Lawson to carry out experiments in exchange for Miranda’s custody.”

“What kind of experiments?” Shepard asked, not sure if he wanted to know. His eyes flitted to Jack, knowing all too well what Cerberus projects could transform into. The Teltin facility had started off as a simple lab investigating Human biotic potential, but once the infant Jack was discovered, someone decided to step the experiments up several notches. Whether that someone was the Illusive Man or an overzealous and amoral scientist in charge of the project, Shepard would never know.

“They’re using genetic material harvested from Miranda to grow a new ‘crop’ of test subjects every day. So far, we’ve seen various different genetic experiments as well as some attempts to increase biotic potential.” Garrus explained. Although he was no expert at reading alien expressions, but Shepard could tell the Turian was hiding something.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“In order to create viable embryos, Lawson has acquired genetic samples from Humanity’s rich and famous. He cast a pretty wide net.”

“And…?” Shepard asked, a feeling of foreboding in his gut.

“One of the ‘donors’… was you.” Garrus said slowly.

Shepard’s mind wheeled. The thought that someone had been manufacturing his ‘offspring’ and then putting them through gruesome experiments repulsed him. No matter the lack of emotional investment he had in the lumps of flesh Lawson used, the tenuous link to himself struck him to his core. He shuddered before steeling his nerves.

“I hate to say it, but there are bigger things we need to focus on at the moment. Let’s just find Miranda and get the hell out of here.”

“Way ahead of you, Shepard.” Garrus said.

He pointed down the corridor past the Commander. Shepard looked in the direction he had pointed to see Elanie kneeling next to the slumped form of Miranda, holding an omnitool over her face as she ran a scan. As Shepard looked on, the ex-Cerberus agent’s eyelids fluttered and a small groan escaped from her lips. He smiled, relief at seeing she was okay flooding through his system. He strode over just as her icy blue eyes refocused. She looked up at him with a measure of confusion.

“Shepard?” She asked hazily.

“Hey, take it easy.” Shepard soothed.

“Incoming call from the Illusive Man…” She mumbled. “He’s waiting for you in the briefing room…”

“She’ll likely be a little disoriented from the cryo process.” Elanie explained. “Her mind should get in gear in a few seconds.”

“Miranda, it’s Shepard. You’ve been in stasis for a while now.” Shepard said, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just stay calm and wait for your body to properly wake up.”

“Where are we?” She asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Bekenstein. We’re still in your father’s mansion , but we’re going to get you out of here.”

Her reaction was strong, to say the least. Sapphire eyes snapped open as her face contorted into a rictus of panic, her body jolting upright.

“Redwood Manor! We have to get out of here.” Her tone was desperate, alarmed. She struggled to stand upon legs that refused to function properly. Shepard, concerned she might injure herself, placed a restraining hand upon her shoulder, pushing her back down.

“We’ve got it under control. Just take it easy until the effects of the stasis wear off.”

“We?” Miranda asked cautiously. “The rest of the team is here?” Her heart seemed to warm at the thought that the squad had risked themselves for her.

“Most of them. We’re still missing a few faces, but I’m only Human. One step at a time, you know?” Shepard grinned. “Cerberus did a real number on the crew. It’s taken us three months to get this far, but we’ll be back to full strength in no time.”

“We need a plan to get out of here, Commander.” Elanie interjected, interrupting the reunion. “Lawson’s gonna have a bunch of his guards on our tail once he finds out we bust you out of here.”

“Miranda, can you offer any insights on your father to help us get out of here?”

“If he knows there are intruders in the building, he’ll have locked down the estate. First thing he’ll have done is jam all outgoing and incoming transmissions. Comms still work within the boundaries of the estate, otherwise his guards would be as cut off as any intruders, and you can’t co-ordinate your forces like that, but we won’t be able to call in the Normandy.” Miranda pondered the situation for a further moment. “Then he’d have erected kinetic barriers over the estate to prevent any escape attempt, as well as powering up the anti-air defences.”

“Is this a stately home or a military barracks?” Garrus asked in an exasperated tone.

“When I was last here, it felt more like a prison.” Miranda said grimly. “My father has a lot of credits to throw into his defences, so you can’t expect escape to be easy.”

“We need to get those defences down before the extraction team is due to arrive.” Shepard surmised. “Kaidan will be shot down before he even gets close if we don’t.”

“You could de-activate the shields and the jamming system from the primary control centre.” Miranda explained. “But you’d need to have my father’s codes to do it. He keeps those on his person at all times.”

“Already taken care of.” Shepard said confidently, holding his glowing omnitool up as proof.

“What? How-“

“Let’s just say you owe Samara, big time.” The Commander smirked.

“I’m not sure I want to know the story.” Miranda muttered.

“Alright, let’s get moving.” Shepard said, turning to the rest of his squad. He examined them closely, noting the holes in Mordin’s tech get-up and Jack’s damaged eyes. It would not be safe for the injured party members to proceed further into danger, and yet they could not stay here and wait for the enemy to find them.

“I say we split up. I’ll take a squad and deal with the barriers and the jammer. Elanie, Etarn, with me. Garrus, I need you to get Jack, Miranda and Mordin to the rendezvous point and wait for Kaidan to arrive with the shuttle. Kasumi, Delexia, watch their backs.”

“Hold on a minute!” Miranda protested, getting to her feet with a more confident stance. “I’m not going to be sidelined here. I’m coming with you, Commander.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. You’re still very weak from-“

“This is my father we’re dealing with. I’m coming with you, like it or not.”

Shepard opened his mouth to argue, but she had a firm set to her lips. He saw Garrus standing behind her, an immensely amused look on his face. With a sigh, the Commander backed down.

“Fine. I’ll take Miranda, Etarn and Elanie with me. The rest of you, your orders remain the same.”

“That’s telling them, Shepard.” Garrus chuckled. Shepard shot him a withering stare, unable to think up a witty retort. Fortunately, he didn’t have to as Miranda looked down at herself.

“Wait a minute… This wasn’t what I was wearing when I was put under. Who dressed me?” Her tone was slightly accusatory.

“WoahisthatthetimeIguesswe’dbestgetgoing.” The Turian’s mouth barely kept up with the string of words flowing out of it as he ushered the rest of his squad to get moving. Shepard sniggered, a sound that Garrus just caught. He turned his head to face the Commander, his expression pleading for silence as he took Jack’s arm and led her down the corridor.

Shepard watched the team heading away, a twinge of anxiety in his gut. He shrugged his shoulders, shaking the worry from his mind as he turned to his own team. He nodded to Etarn as the Batarian took a rifle from the crate he had been carrying, passing it to the Commander.

“Elanie had the foresight to bring along some spare firepower.” He explained.

“Good work. Now let’s get moving.” The Commander ordered. He looked to Miranda. “You ready for this?”

“Locked and loaded, Commander. Let’s go show this bastard just what kind of pissed-off **** he made me into.”

~o~0~o~

~KAIDAN~

The shuttle hummed quietly under Kaidan’s hand, power core a muted purr as it waited for action. Looking out of the forward viewport, the soldier could see the Normandy’s skycar on the opposite side of the street, waiting just like he was. The tinted windows revealed nothing of the driver behind the controls, the eerie alien known as the Revenant.

The two vehicles had found a secluded spot to wait in, a small cul-de-sac about two miles from the upper class district that the Lawson mansion was located in. Once they had settled upon the location, they had simply settled down for the wait.

So far it had been an interminably tense period. Kaidan didn’t worry for himself or his current companions, but he was worried for the rest of the squad, deep in enemy territory within the mansion.

The shuttle shuddered as a massive weight in the rear compartment shifted, the clanging of heavy footsteps preceding the hiss of rushing air as the door between the passenger compartment and the cockpit opened.

“Grunt.” Kaidan said by way of greeting, not even bothering to look around. “What’s up?”

“This is taking too long.” The Krogan said impatiently. “My plates itch for combat.”

“Trust me, with the Commander, it’s never too far away.” The Human muttered. “I’ll be amazed if we come out of this without having to take out at least three gunships or at least a small platoon of guards.”

“I don’t understand. Why not just break down the front door and threaten to tear Lawson’s quad off if he doesn’t give us what we want?”

“Because Humans are not Krogan. Sometimes a gentler approach is needed.” Kaidan explained. “If we heralded our presence with a hail of explosions, Lawson would have a chance to delete the data. Not to mention he’d have a chance to bolt.”

“Weakness.” Grunt spat. “He should stand and fight like a real warrior, not run and cower like the pyjak broodling he is.”

“Once again: Human, not Krogan.”

“I’m going for a ******.” The Krogan said, turning towards the main hatch.

“What? No! Get back in here!”

“What?”

“You can’t just go take a leak outside. This is a public place.”

“Why?”

“It’s considered in bad taste.”

“Its natural. Just like breathing. You want me to go find some privacy when I want to cough?”

“We need to keep a low profile. Public urination is not going to help.”

“Either I do it out there, or I do it in your little room here.”

Kaidan hesitated, looking over his shoulder to find the Krogan’s expression perfectly serious. He sighed.

“Fine. But make it quick, and for god’s sake try not to let anyone see you.”

“You aliens and your squeamishness.” The alien chuckled, shoving the hatch open. He wandered out and it wasn’t long before Kaidan could hear the very loud sound of him relieving himself. With a snort of disgust, the Human slapped the door control to shut the rest of the shuttle off from the cockpit.

“Normandy to extraction team. You there Kaidan?” Joker’s voice sounded from the shuttle’s control panel.

“I copy, Joker. What’s the situation?”

“We’ve lost contact with the rest of the squad. Looks like they’ve erected a barrier around the estate, and our comm signals are being blocked.”

“Damn it.” Kaidan cursed. “Do you want us to go in?”

“Not yet. EDI thinks we should give Shepard a little more time before moving in. But I think we should get you guys into the air, ready to move in the first chance you get.”

“Roger that.” Kaidan confirmed. “Did they get a hold of the data we needed?”

“EDI’s going through the first batch right now. Shepard forwarded the intel on to us just before they went silent. Still no word on the second team yet.”

“I copy. Extraction team out.” Kaidan tapped the control to deactivate the comm. He then switched frequencies, dialling up the skycar.

“Revenant, can you hear me?”

“… then boom! The grenade goes off, and there’s nothing left of him from the waist down. Never forget the look of surprise on his face before he bled out.” Zaeed’s rambling voice echoed over the comms, the tail end of yet another one of his war stories.

“Fascinating.” The Revenant’s voice, despite coming from such an alien mouth, carried tones which Kaidan recognised as extreme boredom. Apparently Grunt wasn’t the only one finding the wait too long.

“Revenant, please respond.”

“We are here, Officer Alenko.” The Collector replied formally.

“Just got word from the Normandy. Shepard might be in trouble. We’ve got orders to get into the air, stand ready to assist in any way we can, but to not engage until we hear from either the Commander or the Normandy.”

“Understood.”

As Kaidan watched out of the window, the skycar’s drive flared, a red glow emanating from its rear as it lifted itself into the sky.

There was a clank behind Kaidan as the outer hatch was slammed shut, followed by a loud thumping as the Krogan knocked on the door to the cockpit.

“What’s going on, Human?” The rumbling voice asked.

“Looks like you’re getting what you asked for. Something going down at the mansion, so we’re on the move now.”

“Finally.” The Krogan sounded immensely pleased, relishing the prospect of battle.

Kaidan felt his worry grow as he lifted into the air, angling towards the Lawson mansion. What was going on down there?

~o~0~o~

~FERON~

The air in the tunnels was uncomfortably damp. Even though Victor Lawson had paid for them to be fashioned into serviceable corridors, the fact remained that it had once been a sewer, and the moisture clung to every breath the young Drell tried to take. It was all he could do not to cough as guards passed by uncomfortably close, the frequency of the passing patrols increased due to the alarm being sounded out throughout the estate.

Feron’s first instinct upon making contact with Jacob had been to rush back to the security field and leave the grounds entirely, but he had soon dismissed that plan. The field was no doubt more heavily guarded by now, and he doubted the guards would fall for the same trick twice.

He looked to his map again, although thanks to his perfect memory he had no need to. It was more of a reflexive action, an affirmation that there was a way out.

He had been making his way towards a maintenance shaft leading up to the service. According to the map, it would allow him to get above ground close to the estate’s walls.

He pulled back into hiding as another pair of uniformed guards wandered past, idly speculating what the fuss was all about. The Drell caught snippets of the conversation referring to some prisoners, a revelation that alarmed him. Had the Commander been taken captive? Was the mission a bust? He closed a mental door on such doubts and focused on the task at hand.

A few more twists of the tunnels and he found the shaft leading upwards. They weren’t far below ground, so the hatch was not too high up. Feron scaled the ladder leading up to it as quickly as possible. He could hear another patrol approaching, and didn’t have much time.

At the top of the ladder, he found himself confronted with a locked hatch. He activated his omnitool and began to bypass the hatch controls.

“So, did you see the game last night?”

Feron froze at the muttered question, the voice emanating from a source not too far from his location. He looked back down the shaft to see a pair of guards wander into view below. He waited tensely for them to carry on, but they halted, one producing a cigarette.

“No, how did it turn out?”

“The Vladivostok Varren-claws won, but not by much. The Tokyo Striders put up one hell of a fight. Had the game right there in their hands, but got cocky in the last quarter. I had fifty credits riding on that game.”

Feron tried not to cough as the smoke twirled its way up to his vantage point, staying around the Drell in greasy coils.

Unwilling to move lest he risk discovery, the Drell waited while the guards whittled away the time in small talk beneath him. His hands began to shake from the strain of holding on to the ladder, and his head spun from the exertion of holding in the choking fit that threatened to strangle him. At last, the guard dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the floor with one booted foot, and the pair walked off. Still struggling to keep from coughing, Feron continued to pick the electronic lock.

Seconds later, the hatch clicked open. Cool, fresh air filtered in from the outside as Feron pushed, exposing himself to the outside world. He cautiously lifted himself up through the hatch.

The first thing he saw upon poking his head out of the tunnels almost made him drop back down the shaft in panic. Standing directly in front of the hatch, two more guards watched the darkened estate grounds. Once Feron had overcome his initial surprise, the Drell lifted himself back up, opening the hatch again a tiny fraction.

The hatch was actually a trapdoor in the floor of a gazebo in the estate’s grounds, built amidst a cluster of cherry trees and untamed rhododendron plants. In the distance, the mansion loomed over the rest of the estate. The two guards, practically on top of the hatch, were facing away, towards the mansion.

Feron eased the hatch open, inch by agonising inch. He carefully folded it back behind his head, wincing at the subtle clank it made upon touching the wooden floor of the gazebo. This done, he began to rise from the shaft, a vengeful shadow looming behind the guards.

“… Feron, come in! It’s Jacob!”

Both guards whirled at the sudden noise emanating from the Drell’s commlink. As their gun barrels swung his way, Feron leapt into action. He dropped into a crouch, swinging one leg around in a scything motion that caught a guard across the back of his knees, pulling him to the ground. The other one danced back from the attack, still trying to train his gun on the alien. Feron responded by rolling out of the way as he opened fire, spouts of splinters shooting up from the savaged floorboards where he had been just a moment before. The Drell continued rolling, turning it into a tumble that ended with him standing beside the guard. Before the stunned Human could react, two green hands darted out, clamping down on his arm and, with a deft motion, popping it out of the joint. A howl of pain escaped from behind the helmet’s faceplate as the arm dropped limply to the side, numb fingers releasing the gun they had been clasping. A quick jab to the throat silenced those moans of agony.

Feron then turned to the first guard, still struggling to stand. He lashed out with his foot, catching the Human across the face and knocking his helmet loose. The young but frightened face of a man of Latin origin stared at the Drell in terror before an elbow to the nose sent him crashing to the ground, blood flowing in a scarlet river across his face.

Feron carefully positioned the body so that he would not drown in the blood flowing from his nose before making sure the other guard was out cold. This done, he pulled out his commlink.

“I am here, Mr Taylor. What is the situation?”

“We’re pinned down not far from the wall! A bunch of guards just showed up, and it looks like they’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Where exactly are you?”

“Sending the co-ordinates.”

The Drell’s omnitool beeped as it received a databurst, giving Feron the precise location in relation to his current position. He looked about, finding the spot indicated by his ‘tool. Not far from his current location, a large cluster of guards had gathered, standing watch for any sign of trouble. Behind them, the estate’s walls loomed imposingly. Judging by the co-ordinates Jacob had sent, both he and Samara were hidden in a vast tangle of thorny bushes close by.

What drew the Drell’s attention, though, was the massive anti-aircraft turret that had deployed not far from these guards, rising from a concealed hatch underground and standing a full ten meters above the ground. It was busily scanning the air for any intrusion into Lawson’s airspace, the cluster of barrels emanating an air of menace. As Feron inspected the machine, he caught sight of the blinking control panel, at ground level. Only two guards stood watch over it. An idea began to form in his mind, emerald lips twitching in a devilish smile.

“Hold tight, Taylor. I have an idea.”

“Copy that.”

With that, Feron slipped off into the darkness, moving slowly but purposefully towards the AA gun. He moved like a ghost, slipping from hiding place to hiding place with nary a whisper to announce his presence. At times, when he had to pass a guard patrol, he activated his cloak to aid his passage, but most of the time he needed no such help.

After a matter of minutes, Feron was only metres from the base of the AA gun. The two guards present remained blissfully unaware of him, staring straight ahead as he wheeled around to the side. Taking a deep breath to still his pulse, Feron activated his cloak, breaking from cover with the tiniest of rustles of shifting leaves. He darted across the open ground, aware of the fact his cloak only had a limited charge. At last, he reached the side of the gun, behind the guards.

The pair remained unaware of his presence until the moment he de-cloaked and slammed his fist into the skull of the one on the right. This first guard, caught totally unprepared, folded up, unconscious. The second guard, sluggish from surprise, had barely a moment to gasp in fright before a green hand wrapped itself around his throat and swung him into the gun, the impact of his helmeted skull hitting the metal knocking him out cold.

The guards dealt with, Feron turned his attention to the control panel. He waved his omnitool over it, activating a programme designed to break through security systems such as the one protecting this turret. Seconds later, his omnitool beeped a confirmation, the panel turning green as it opened up.

Access granted. State request.

Feron grinned as he typed in his commands.

Command received. Targeting protocols altered.

The gun above him whined, spinning around. Feron darted away from the turret, cloaking as he ran. By the time the noise of the gun powering up had reached the guards close to Jacob and Samara, causing them to turn and look in its direction, the Drell had vanished.

The guards looked about in consternation, wondering what targets the gun had found to target. They looked to the sky, assuming an enemy craft was inbound.

They were completely unprepared, therefore, when the turret opened fire upon them, unleashing a deadly hail of bullets that tore through their shields and armour like a hot knife through butter. Half of them died immediately, the rest perishing as they turned to run. With this patrol eliminated, the turret spun, looking for new targets. Over the guard frequency, Feron heard shouts of distress as news spread of a malfunctioning turret.

Chuckling at the guards’ distress, Jacob strolled out of the bushes, rifle slung over one shoulder. Behind him, Samara stepped out, still looking graceful, dishevelled as she was after fleeing from Victor Lawson.

“Gotta say, frog-boy, you sure know how to cause trouble.” The Human chuckled. “Swapping the Friend/Foe settings was a smart move.”

“I try my best.” Feron said, giving a mock bow. He then sobered. “What’s the next step, Mr Taylor?”

“Huh? Am I suddenly in charge here?” Jacob asked, a little surprised.

“You have the most experience of commanding forces.” Samara said. “It is a natural fit.”

“Alright.” Jacob’s brow creased as he pondered their situation. Finally he reached a decision. “That turret won’t be the only one they’ve got deployed here. If the extraction team tries to come get us, they’ll be torn to shreds.”

“And with the comm jamming in effect, we have no way to warn them.” Feron surmised.

“Exactly.”

“Then we must make haste. They would have begun to move in once our comms were jammed.” Samara said.

Having reached a decision, the trio set off. Jacob marched at the front, the barefoot Samara not far behind and the wary Feron bringing up the rear.

Modifié par fainmaca, 04 juin 2011 - 02:21 .

[fainmaca]

Argh. Sorry to do this yet again, but there's still more to this mission. I am really bad at estimating how much time/words an idea is going to take. I thought this mission would be done in 15K, so far it's over forty with still at least another 15K to go.

I'll try to have this mission wrapped up by the next week. Let's just hope I don't have to break it again.

It's odd that I'm able to write so much into Miranda's rescue, considering she isn't a favourite character of mine. Not hated, but others are preferred. But I've got some interesting moments coming up that'll provoke some character development. Anyway, back to work.

[fainmaca]

~JACK~

**** **** **** ****!

Jack’s mind maintained the profane chant as she stumbled down the corridors, pulled along by Garrus’ firm three-digited grasp. Every step she took was accompanied by an internal curse, and every stumble was heralded by an external one.

“Watch where you’re ****ing going!” She spat as she tripped over the Turian’s long legs for the millionth time.

Silence greeted her scathing verbal assault, the vigilante choosing to instead focus more on where he put his feet. Jack, meanwhile, was left to the darkness of the inside of her skull.

She’d never admit it to anyone save perhaps Shepard, but she was frightened. Every step she took might as well have been straight into the jaws of Cerberus for all she knew, robbed of her vision. The smatterings of gunfire that shot out as the squad encountered clusters of guards sent her tumbling to the floor, curling up in a protective ball, unable to fight back. She had no idea whether the bullets were travelling towards her or towards her enemies, and the occasional near miss did nothing to settle her nerves, several bullets actually bouncing off the kinetic barrier she wore as she lay on the ground, defenceless. And with no reference to direct her powers, her biotics were useless.

Once more she found herself on her hands and knees as the Turian left her, a hail of bullets explaining his sudden absence. She reached forwards with her fingers, feeling her way across the floor in a clumsy crawl. She felt bile rise up in her throat, though whether it was frustration or fear that drove the sensation, she did not know. After a few seconds of panicked scrabbling, her hands brushed against a vertical surface, ridge detail denoting a grille of some kind. Her fingers slid across this surface until they found another one, travelling at ninety degrees to the first. She pulled herself into this corner, ramming her spine back into the crevice. Her knees locked themselves under her chin, arms wrapping tightly around them.

A huge blast cast her from her hiding place, knocking her to the floor. A concussion grenade, maybe? The ringing in her ears suggested so, but without being able to see how far away it had landed, it could just as easily have been a fragmentation grenade that landed a bit further away. She quickly pulled herself back into her corner, finding a sense of security in having the two walls press against either shoulder blade as her lips pressed against her knees, the warm flesh that peeked out beyond the shortened hem of her dress tasting salty with sweat from the exertion of their race to freedom.

Her heart pounded in its chest as she felt a trickle of warm fluid dribble down her cheek. Was she injured? Had that last blast put a hole in her head? She sobbed with panic as she dabbed at the warm wetness. Seeing no other way to find out what it was, she slipped a fingertip into her mouth, licking the fluid.

It was tangy, but was nothing more than salty water. It lacked the iron spark of blood. A tear. Judging by the grainy texture, a good dose of her make-up had trailed down her cheek with it. She was ****ing crying.

You weakling. Her voice chimed from within. If you could see yourself now. Sitting here, sobbing like a **** while the people who think you are their friend make ready to die protecting you.

Shut up! Just leave me the hell alone! She howled defiantly, silently. All she heard in return was her own hollow laughter, echoing inside her mind.

She felt her hands begin to shake. Not from fear this time, but from pure, blood-red rage. She wanted to make the laughter stop, to tear out the tongue that sent those cruel chuckles rippling through her psyche. But she had no target, no outlet. The fury rose within like a tide of scarlet fire, filling her entire body with energy, power and frustrated emotion.

As a hand took a hold of her shoulder, she released the pent-up flood, every ounce of her rage streaming out from the core of her being. The experience was almost… euphoric. The drain she felt as her amp sparked dangerously, the inhibitor sending a torrent of pain feeding back into her body, was the single most painful and yet most satisfying moment of her life. She heard a string of curses and cries, all overwhelmed by a mewling scream that she at first did not recognise as her own.

Her throat hoarse from the agony-fuelled shriek, her muscles twitching from the raw electricity racing through her, and her heart racing from the confusing mixture of emotion, torment and power, Jack collapsed to the floor, flopping about like a fish as she struggled to breathe. She faintly heard some ringing metallic footsteps approaching gingerly. She was helpless to act as two small, five-fingered hands turned her over onto her side.

“Mordin!” Kasumi’s voice rang out shrill, desperate. “I think she’s going into shock.”

“She’s going into shock?! The **** nearly took my damn arm off!” Delexia shouted gruffly.

Jack continued to shudder as a pair of four-digited hands touched either side of her face, turning her head this way and that. An inhuman nose sniffed deeply close by her ear.

“Biotic inhibitor causing feedback into central nervous system. Unfortunate. Would be difficult to remove even under best of circumstances. Here, with no surgical equipment- impossible.”

“Can’t we just defuse that thing on her ear?” Kasumi asked.

“No! No. Tamper-proof. Designed to kill patient before removal allowed. Would send unimaginable power surge through her body. Death almost assured.”

“But she’s going to die if we don’t stop it!”

“Am aware of possible outcomes, Miss Kasumi. Am not about to rush into this haphazardly.” Mordin sounded angry, though it was probably more at his lack of options than at the little Human he was talking to.

Jack heard another set of footsteps rapidly approaching, before she sensed a presence leaning over her. Seeing as the Salarian and the thief were already with her, it had to be one of the Turians.

“Jack, I’m sorry about this. We’re just going to have to hope they can fix it up back on the ship.” Garrus sounded truly sorrowful.

The next instant, the convict’s world filled with renewed pain, although this was all focused in one spot. With a quick yank, Garrus wrapped his talons around the device and pulled, tearing it free. Jack felt as though a spike had been rammed through her skull, ripping at the soft tissue of her brain as it passed. She opened her mouth, but agony kept her lungs from deflating to allow her to scream. A torrent of hot fluid, definitely blood this time, flowed from behind her ear, the river renewed with every heartbeat.

Finally the pain faded enough, and Jack’s scream began in earnest, the shrill, almost tangible sound reverberating through the corridor and into the souls of her companions. As the Salarian pressed a syringe full of medi-gel and sedatives into the hollow of her elbow, the feral cries descended into quiet mumblings of agony as she slid away from the land of the conscious.

“Foolhardy! Could have lost her.” Mordin’s tone was accusatory.

“But we didn’t.” Garrus’ voice, muffled by her fading consciousness, was grim. “You said it yourself, doc. Let her endure or operate right now, we had an equal chance of losing her either way. We need to get back to the surface, and we can’t have her slow us down by flailing about.”

“Shep’s gonna be pissed at you for taking a gamble like this.” Kasumi warned.

“I’ll deal with Shepard. The fact is, she’s still alive and we can get moving again.” The Turian’s tone was cold as she felt two strong arms hook under her body, hoisting her up over a bony shoulder. Then, the silence overtook her completely.

~o~0~o~

~MIRANDA~

I can’t believe I’m back here again.

Miranda was absorbed in her thoughts as she marched down the corridors after the Commander. It had taken her little time to adjust to the once-familiar surroundings, though being back in her father’s clutches was… unsettling, to say the least.

And when the other woman in the group, Elanie, had explained the nature of the experiments going on here, it had repulsed her. To think that Victor Lawson was monster enough to do such a thing to what were essentially her children was almost too much to bear. She found herself looking through the doorways they passed, sickened by the labs full of dormant medical equipment. It was all she could do not to tear at the walls with her biotics in an attempt to bring the place down around her.

And then she caught her gaze darting to the Commander. Hers wasn’t the only DNA contributed to the genetic cocktail that created the test subjects. She found herself wondering whether he felt the same connection to these bio-engineered ‘lab rats’ that she did. Were they somehow connected through this now? She banished that thought to the back of her mind

A glimmer of light playing across a reflective surface caught her eye, drawing her gaze to a partially open door. Beyond, she saw what looked to be operating tables of some kind. A pit in her stomach, she slowed, grabbing Shepard’s shoulder.

“Commander.” She said, a hint of urgency in her voice. When he looked at her questioningly, she nodded at the door and the lab beyond. “I think we need to take a look in here.”

He looked at her for a moment before understanding dawned and he nodded in the affirmative. She led the way through the door, steeling herself for whatever might have been beyond.

Tables lined the sides of the lab, with a pair of desks pushed together in the centre so that their occupants faced each other when residing in the chairs that were pulled up tightly to them. A computer terminal ran idly, unreadable screeds of data rolling across its monitor.

Miranda’s heart dropped as she caught sight of a small bundle on one of the nearby tables, covered by a white sheet. She stepped over slowly, reluctantly, as Elanie slipped into one of the chairs at the desk and began searching through the computer.

Her heart screaming at her not to, the former Cerberus operative twitched the sterile white fabric away, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at what it had covered. A grim look on his face, Shepard stood on the opposite side of the table, staring down.

Miranda’s hands snaked down to lift the tiny body, fingers quivering as they came into contact with the cold flesh. The baby lay cupped in her hands, its size barely allowing legs the size of a finger to dangle loosely over her right thumb. A small face, almost an exact duplicate of hers in miniature, with large eyes and ears that lay tightly against its head. Wispy tufts of downy hair the colour of midnight curled around the little skull, doing little more than giving the scalp a new texture. A quick glance at her omnitool informed her that she was cradling a little girl.

A tear sprung forth from either eye, trailing down Miranda’s cheeks to join together on the lowest part of her chin as she felt her breathing grow swift. Her head jerked up, casting the droplets free to drip down on the pink form between her hands, as a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder. Shepard gazed directly into her ice-blue eyes, the corners of his own eyes creased with unfathomable emotion.

“A little girl.” She managed through the mist that clouded her vision. “This was my little girl.”

“Miranda. These test subjects… They’re not-“

“Don’t say it!” She spat venomously. “Don’t you dare say it!”

She glanced back down at the tiny, insignificant form, barely a speck of matter against the wheeling cosmos. And yet, this tiny speck, right here, right now, loomed over her with more mass than a thousand suns. More tears raced down her face in an effort to join their kin. Compassion in his eyes, Shepard remained silent, for what could he say? He tightened his grip on her shoulder, just being there for her as her grief poured out. Finding solace in the Human contact, she pressed her head against his forearm, tears dribbling down to wet the cuff of his suit.

“I’m barren, Commander.” She mumbled, her lower lip refusing to remain steady to give her a clear voice. “I never told anyone about it, mostly because I didn’t think it would affect the mission in any way. This is as close as I’ll get to having children of my own. This… is all I’ll ever have.”

Without relinquishing his grip upon her shoulder, Shepard moved around the table, standing next to her. His hand finally relaxed its grip and slid around behind her, drawing her close to him in a comforting embrace. Together, they stared down at the life unlived. Shepard felt a strange hollowness in his chest upon staring at the child, realising that he had, in some small way, been used to create her.

“I’m not seeing a resemblance here.” He muttered after a few moments. “With me, I mean.”

“Makes sense.” Miranda muttered into his shoulder. “There are that many male donors that my father used to create that half of the equation, a resemblance to any one of them would be highly improbable.”

She suddenly straightened, pulling away from Shepard. The Commander backed away a step or two as she laid the tiny child down on the table, leaning over her and obscuring her from his view. Realising that she needed a little space for whatever she was doing, the Commander turned to face the rest of the room, doing his best to ignore the identical shrouded forms on each table in the lab.

Elanie caught his eye, beckoning the commander over with one hand. He strode up to her side, looking at the monitor she sat in front of.

“Commander, I’ve managed to pull up some of the research data that the scientists gathered here. There are some logs. Would you like me to play them?”

“Do it.” Miranda commanded, striding up next to Shepard. The Commander turned to her.

“Are you sure, Miranda?”

“I need to know what they were doing here that they thought was so important.” Her eyes glinted fiercely. “I’m not made of glass, Shepard. I can bear it. Play the logs.”

A file began to play. This one had no attached video feed, simply playing out over the speakers.

“I just don’t understand. We’ve taken the DNA apart strand by strand and put it back together time and again, but we’ve been unable to rectify the instability in the genetic code. After doing an extensive analysis of Mr Lawson’s own DNA and that of his close relatives, we can conclude that this is not an hereditary condition. The only theory that fits the evidence is that the genetic engineering involved in Miranda’s creation causes this decay, and thus passes it along to any offspring we generate from her genes.

“We’re going to try a new regimen of gene therapy, spanning several generations. We may be able to filter the irregularities out piece by piece, fully eradicating the problem in five to ten generations. Until this bears any form of success, we’ll continue with our other experiments. Greggsen claims to have made a breakthrough in developing bone density. Preliminary tests suggest that these bones would be nearly shatter-proof.”

Shepard’s eyes darted to Miranda as the recording came to an end. She had moved back half a step at the new information, her eyes widening a fraction. Her full lips were set in a grim line as she turned to Elanie.

“Pull up any and all files they have on this genetic decay. I want to take a look at it back on the Normandy.” She ordered.

“Miranda, I-“ Shepard began.

“There’s no need to talk about this, Commander. Not until I’ve had a chance to look over the data myself.”

Shepard nodded reluctantly. Elanie, having watched this exchange silently, tapped a few keys on the computer. In seconds, the data had uploaded to an OSD, which she stowed on her belt. After this was done, Shepard turned from the computer, heading for the door.

“Come on. We’ve got to get moving.” He ordered.

As they headed for the door, Miranda and Elanie falling into step behind Shepard while Etarn brought up the rear, the Commander’s eye was drawn to the table where Miranda had been standing not so long ago. The sheet had been wrapped tight around the tiny form of the child, a funeral shroud or a sort. His heart tightened as he took in the reverence of the gesture between a mother and the child she never knew. Tactfully, he chose the path of silence as they left the pitifully small bodies behind. Behind him, Miranda kept her face resolutely staring forwards.

~o~0~o~

~ZAEED~

The skycar thrummed under the grizzled old mercenary’s feet as he stood by the door, one hand reaching up to cling to a handhold in the ceiling.

He stared out of the side window as the rooftops of the homes of Bekenstein’s rich and famous whirled by underneath, his scarred face immobile. Up front, the Revenant was working the controls, surprisingly comfortable behind a console not designed for an alien of his size. Mordin had done his best to modify the skycar to accommodate larger beings, but the fact was that it had originally been designed for a Human pilot could not be set aside. Normally this would have meant the bounty hunter would have taken the wheel, but he wanted to be free to fight back if the infiltration teams came racing out of the mansion under fire.

Zaeed’s guns weighed heavily on his back, a comforting presence that kept him alert, tense. His free hand idly stroked the butt of his pistol, a subconscious motion.

As he watched the Lawson mansion whip by outside, the skycar not more than a couple of hundred yards from the outer perimeter of the estate, an urgent beep sounded out from the Collector’s console. The old Human looked over his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“Three new contacts on our scopes, inside the estate walls.”

“Land-based?”

“No. Airborne. Could be private shuttles, but they look like they’re moving with a purpose.”

“Defensive vehicles, then. Are they headin’ our way?”

“Not yet. Looks like they’re making a circuit of the perimeter.”

Zaeed stared out through the window, looking over the estate, straining to catch sight of the newcomers. Struggling to make out anything in the darkness, he finally made out three black arrowheads standing out against the night. They moved through the sky in graceful sweeps, carefully monitoring the airspace above the estate.

“I see the bastards. Em-forty-eight Swordfishes. Nasty little sons-of-****es.”

He flinched as a bright flash lit up the sky over the estate. One of the enemy craft vanished in a ball of fire, brilliantly bright lines of light streaking up from a spot on the ground. The explosion was loud enough to make the skycar tremble, even at this distance.

“****!” The mercenary exclaimed as he looked for the source of the fire.

“Was that from one of ours?” The Revenant asked.

“Must have been. Too big to be anything less than an AA turret, though. Took that **** down too fast for anything a man can carry.”

“Anti-aircraft guns will make getting in there to help a lot more difficult.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that right now.” Zaeed said as the remaining Swordfishes, zipping around the fire streaming up from the ground, angled away from the danger and straight towards them. As they drew closer, they finally took notice of the smaller skycar, altering their angle slightly on a more aggressive approach. “Get your **** together, we’ve got company!”

The Revenant tugged on the controls, pulling the skycar into a steep ascent that narrowly dodged the incoming attack. The two nimbler craft swooped around them, like bees attacking an pilfering intruder in their hive. Pretty soon the vehicle shuddered as bullets bounced off its shields, several hits penetrating the barrier to ping off the hull.

Zaeed felt his insides tug to one side as the skycar went into a sickening spin, seeking to avoid the incoming attacks. The Collector grunted as he struggled to keep the vehicle under control while evading the enemy. Finally he turned to bark an order to Zaeed.

“Get on the turret and deal with these! I can’t hold them off forever!”

“Turret?” Zaeed asked curiously.

The alien pressed a button, and the rear wall of the skycar retracted to reveal a series of controls, which unfolded to provide two control sticks with triggers. One of the seats at the rear spun around to accommodate the gunner while a loud clanking noise was heard coming from the roof.

Unseen to the occupants inside, the roof of the skycar unfolded to reveal the long, gleaming barrel of the turret. It extended telescopically, the full length of the barrel ending up longer than two thirds of the length of the entire vehicle. This barrel was attached to a rotating platform, giving the gunner a full three hundred and sixty degree arc of fire, with the only blind spot from the weapon being directly underneath. Two loading mechanisms clanked into place on either side of the joint between barrel and platform, ready to keep the gun supplied with missiles or bullets. At the front of the vehicle, a pair of pilot-operated chainguns extended out from behind the headlights, a near limitless supply of ammunition at their disposal.

Back inside, Zaeed grinned broadly as he slipped into the gunner’s seat, taking a hold of the control sticks with confident hands. The one on the left controlled the vertical angle at which the gun pointed, while the right-hand control swivelled the gun around. A screen activated before his face, showing the view along the barrel, with a smaller tactical display set into the larger image. In the green glow of this display, enhanced to show the enemies more clearly in the darkness, Zaeed’s rough features creased in a devilish smile. He tentatively tested the trigger, figuring out which fired a missile and which send a chatter of bullets off into the night, and then swiftly set about firing on their enemies.

“What, no tale of how this reminds you of going after some sand dealer in the wastes of Klendagon?” The Revenant quipped back over his shoulder.

“Never been there.” Zaeed shouted back. “Now stow it and focus on keeping us alive long enough for me to kill these bastards!”

The gun shook the entire frame of the skycar, sending high-velocity projectiles back at their pursuers in a n endless stream. One of the Swordfishes sparked blue as a few direct hits danced off its barriers. Zaeed cursed as the skycar shook to yet more hits, with their enemies taking relatively little damage.

“They’ve got shields! Didn’t the Doc put anything into this junk heap to help against that?” He yelled.

The Revenant was silent as he examined the controls. His three functioning eyes roved over the controls, looking for anything that might be useful in their current situation One button caught his attention.

“Hold on. Gonna try something.”

He pushed the button.

On the back of the skycar, a little hatch popped open, a tiny spray of fluid leaking out in a fine mist. The fluid became a thick fog, only a few meters in diameter, directly in front of the rapidly approaching enemies. As they raced towards it, a small blue metal orb shot out of the skycar, coming into contact with the cloud at the same time as the first vehicle.

Blue arcs of electricity spat out from the orb, amplified and conducted by the cloud, forming a sphere of pure electrical energy two metres in diameter. The Swordfish, flying through this, sparked as its shields shorted out, overloaded by the pure energy buzzing through the cloud.

Back in the skycar, Zaeed whooped as his screen informed him that the enemy’s shields were down. Not hesitating, he fired a missile, striking the vehicle dead centre. The Swordfish vanished in an expanding cloud of superheated gas, red-hot metal fragments and the smoke that had once been the pilot.

“Hell yeah!” The old mercenary crowed as he spun the turret to take aim at the second enemy. “One down, one to go!”

The skycar lurched as the insectile alien made it jump to one side, sending it into a barely controlled spin. Bullets raced by just outside of the windows, tracing white-hot streaks through the night sky, narrowly missing their vehicle. Zaeed groaned as the G-forces pulled at his insides, nausea rising in his throat.

“We need to deal with this guy, fast!” The Collector yelled from the cockpit.

“Tell me something I don't goddamn know!” Zaeed snapped back.

The mercenary renewed his attack, squeezing the trigger of the main gun in short, sharp bursts that raced towards the pursuing Swordfish, bouncing off the vehicle's shields. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he quickly launched two missiles, one after the other. The first bounced off the shields harmlessly, exploding in a bright flash against the night sky several hundred yards to the left. The second one, though, found its way past the weakened defences, punching into the cowling around one of the port engines. The afflicted part began to pour out thick, black smoke, the glow of its drive fading. The Swordfish wobbled unsteadily, struggling to maintain its equilibrium with the reduced thrust on one side.

“We got 'em!” Zaeed howled triumphantly. “Just need to finish 'em off!”

“On it.” The Revenant said as he pulled the skycar into a steep climb. Zaeed felt his nausea increase tenfold as the skycar turned upside down, performing an elegant loop.

Behind them, the Swordfish attempted to follow, beginning the climb much more lazily. As it approached a fully vertical angle of ascent, the engines cough and spluttered, unable to give it the power it needed. With a slow inevitability, the enemy craft began to tumble out of the sky.

As the Revenant completed his loop, he pressed down heavily on the triggers built into his own controls, firing the chainguns on the front of the skycar. The entire craft juddered as the weapons sent twin streams of bullets at their target, tearing into armour and the components underneath. As the skycar whipped past it, missing it by barely more than a foot or so, the Swordfish exploded in a bright orange flare, transforming into a rapidly expanding cloud of fire and debris.

Zaeed whooped as he watched the explosion rapidly receding in his rear-facing view.

“Ye-heah! That'll show the bastards!”

His elation was short-lived, however, as yet another beep emanated from the Collector's console.

“I wouldn't celebrate just yet.” The Revenant warned. “Another six marks on my scopes. Looks like they noticed we took their friends out.”

“Bring it on.” Zaeed growled excitedly.

~o~0~o~

~DELEXIA~

The Turian pirate panted as she thundered down yet more corridors, the slight frame of Jack an awkward presence on her shoulder. With this encumbrance, she was forced to rely upon her SMG to fight with, rather than her preferred, more powerful weapons.

The closer the squad got to the surface, the more guards they encountered. Delexia found herself wondering if the enemy ranks were actually endless.

By her side, Garrus rained down devastation on their foes. She had to admire his skill on the battlefield, When the former vigilante barked out an order, neither Kasumi nor Mordin hesitated to follow it, such was the authority he spoke with. And he never held back himself. He did not ask one of his comrades to take any risks greater than those he took himself. While the team worked together in this fashion, Delexia saw the unity and trust that had formed the Normandy crew into the legendary fighting force that they were. The only frustration she felt with the situation was at having to remain in the back, looking after the unconscious Jack.

Delexia paused to inspect their little band. They were poorly equipped, to say the least. Garrus was the only one with proper armour, Mordin sporting a hybrid lab coat with far more pockets than she'd have credited it with. Kasumi still wore the jumpsuit she had worn under her kimono, while both Jack and Delexia wore what tatters remained of their dresses. Between them, the motley crew provided a considerable amount of firepower. With Garrus' guns, Mordin and Kasumi's tech capabilities and whatever support Delexia could offer when she wasn't occupied with keeping Jack safe, they were mowing through whatever Victor Lawson threw at them.

Incredibly, aside from the unconscious Jack and Mordin's previous chest injury, the squad was relatively unscathed, yet another testament to Garrus' command abilities.

“Delexia! Get down!” The vigilante shouted. Reacting almost with no thought, the pirate crouched down behind a crate abandoned in the corridor. Moments later, the crate shuddered as something exploded on the far side.

“Mordin, deal with their shields! Kasumi, get close and spread some chaos.” Garrus ordered as his rifle continued to sing its death chant.

Nodding in the affirmative, Mordin shuffled up next to the Turian, waving his omnitool to create a pulse of crackling blue energy that shorted out the kinetic barriers of those in the front ranks. Kasumi, meanwhile, vanished in a shimmer of white light, reappearing behind the now defenceless guards. A quick flurry of lightning-fast punches and kicks laid two of the enemy out in record time.

Seeing an opening, Delexia carefully laid Jack down behind the crate, making sure not to damage the still tacky patch of medi-gel that covered the open tear in her skin where the inhibitor had been attached.

“Wait here, sweetie. I'll be right back.” She muttered, patting the slumbering convict on the arm as she stood up, taking aim with her gun.

She sighted down on the first guard that came into view, pulling the trigger as she aimed directly at his head. At this distance, the recoil from the gun was enough to send several bullets flying wide, but enough found their mark to puncture the guard's armour, profuse amounts of blood and gore leaking out of the newly made holes. As this first victim slid to the ground, she swiftly moved on to the second.

In this manner, she dispatched two more guards before they took aim at her, punching through their defences effortlessly despite the distance. Garrus, surprised at the sudden unexpected contribution to the firefight, turned to nod to her appreciatively. As he looked over to her, his eyes and mandibles flared wide.

“Delexia! Look out!”

She turned to look where he was staring, suddenly finding herself looking into the eyes of one of the suqad of guards that had crept up behind the squad. Their leader, the one facing Delexia, held a long weapon in his hands, the end of it sparking as the pipes leading to the tank on his back hissed.

Moving instinctively, the Turian dropped to her knees, turning to envelop the vulnerable Jack in her arms. The blast of flame from the pyro trooper washed over her back, setting her dress alight. She clenched her teeth as the pain of the intense heat rippled through her tough scales.

Suddenly, the fire was gone, its source quenched. Delexia chanced a glance backwards to see the trooper drop to the floor, a hole puncturing his throat. He tumbled back into the midst of his allies. As they looked down in shock, a loud squealing, hissing roar could be heard. The bullet, by luck or by skill, had passed through the trooper's gullet, nicking the tank on his back. The high-pressure gas roared out through the new-found hole until it caught on the sparking ignition point on the end of the flamethrower. A tremendous thump threw Delexia to the floor as the inferno consumed the pyro's allies.

Her eyes completely dried out by the flames, Delexia squinted as she looked at the remains of the soldiers, smouldering on the floor. Of the pyro, nothing remained but ashes. She looked down at herself, patting out what patches of burning fabric remained. She stood, groaning as her burned back protested the movement. The skin was not too badly damaged, the intense heat having fortunately been short-lived, but she knew she was burned in place. Her dress now failed to cover her back, only crisp black fragments left of the white fabric that had covered her shoulders. The skirt of the dress remained, preserving her modesty, and the front of the dress was untouched.

Remembering her charge, Delexia turned to look at Jack. The biotic convict was unmarked, though her skin, what little was visible between her tattoos, was an angry red from the heat, although she was not burned.

A three-fingered hand clamped down on the pirate's shoulder, drawing her out of her distracted examination of her surroundings. She turned to see Garrus standing over her, his extra few inches of height making him loom over her.

“You alright?”

She nodded quietly, her voice muted by her dry throat. Garrus nodded understandingly, holstering his sniper rifle. As he did so, Delexia realised that he had been the one to kill the pyro, and the detonation of the gas tank was most probably an intended side-effect of his attack.

“I think we're done here.” He said, surveying the battlefield. Delexia followed his gaze, seeing Mordin and Kasumi picking over the corpses of the guards that had stood in their way. “Not far to the exit now. The hangar is just down this passage.”

Garrus passed her his assault rifle, drawing his pistol as he knelt next to the comatose Jack. With a practised motion, he scooped her up over his shoulder, setting off down the corridor with the others in tow. Mordin and Kasumi were quick to follow him, while Delexia sluggishly moved into place at the rear. Her back screamed at her with every sudden movement, the flesh tight from the burns. Notcing her difficulty, the Salarian doctor moved to walk next to her, bringing out his omnitool. He smeared a layer of medi-gel on the injury, the tacky fluid instantly cooling her scales. She nodded her thanks, speeding up now as her wounds refused to hinder her so much any more.

Moments later, they were in the cargo hangar, working their way through the labyrinth formed by the stacks of crates. Garrus strode ahead, leading the way confidently back to the main doors. He pushed the button to send the main doors creaking upwards.

The doors groaned apart to reveal the darkened grounds of the estate beyond. The trees waved sinuously in the distance, promising safety if they could just get to them.

Getting away would prove quite difficult, however. Sitting just in front of the hangar doors, lurking with a malevolent air, were two armoured vehicles. Their squat, round frame housed a large cannon perched above a glass cockpit. Their drives roared, keeping them aloft. As the doors cycled open, their weapons spun to face the new presence, the whine of systems powering up audible even from this distance.

Garrus froze for a moment, surprised by the sudden turn of events. A hair of a second later, he sprang into action, tumbling out of the vehicles’ line of sight. Mordin and Kasumi swiftly followed suit, with Delexia proving to be the slowest to react. She began to run for cover behind a stack of crates just as the vehicles reached full power and opened fire. The Turian pirate barely had time to utter a word before the first explosive shell landed close to her.

“Oh shi-“

~o~0~o~

[fainmaca]

~MIRANDA~

Shepard’s squad had made good progress through the sub-levels of the Lawson mansion, continually consulting the schematics Elanie had managed to upload to her omnitool. Miranda would not have said it out loud, but she felt strange working with the new faces. Elanie was an unknown, someone whom she hadn’t even had the luxury of doing a background check on before meeting, let alone a full psychological and tactical analysis. And as for Etarn… the novelty of working with a Batarian was an unsettling one. Nevertheless, the pair had proved themselves capable, the alien showing himself a proficient biotic while the Shadow Broker agent exhibited excellent tech skills. She would need some time before she trusted either of them with her life, but she was ready to fight at their side for the time being. Far be it from her to second guess the Commander’s decisions, not after all the time she had spent with him fighting the Collectors. In the end, she had chosen to side with Shepard over the Illusive Man when it came to his decision on what to do with the Collector Base, and she wasn’t about to make an about-face on that decision now.

Thinking these thoughts turned her attention to Shepard. The Commander was a comforting presence, a reminder of the way things had been and a stabilising element in this vastly different world. Even with the shocking revelations she had endured on this day, she still felt confident about the future, because Shepard was there, ready to drag her and everyone else in the Galaxy forward to a brighter tomorrow.

The squad came to a halt as a pair of heavy metal doors slammed down in front of them. They turned to look behind as an identical pair roared shut behind them, trapping them in a featureless stretch of corridor. The lights flared brightly for a moment before dimming, a holographic image shimmering into existence in front of the squad. An enlarged representation of Victor Lawson’s head and shoulders appeared, his features locked in a fierce scowl. A large gash spanned his face, crossing the bridge of his nose and still seeping blood. His eyes narrowed as they observed Miranda. She felt her heart quail a little upon seeing the all-too-familiar face again.

“Miranda.” He said coldly. “I should have known Shepard would try to set you loose.”

“Father.” Miranda’s tone was even, completely emotionless, hiding the turmoil within.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to escape.” He boasted. “You have no terminals to use to hack the door controls, and they’re designed to withstand a direct hit from a cruiser’s main gun. You’d be long dead before you blew your way through.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shepard demanded. “What could you possibly hope to gain from the experiments going on here?”

“The betterment of the Human race.” Lawson replied promptly. “My experiments will create the perfect Human, and then my legacy will be guaranteed.”

“But this is your own daughter.” The Commander sounded exasperated. “How could you do this to your own flesh and blood?”

“She is not my daughter.” Although Miranda had realised this small fact long ago, but to hear him say it out loud still stung. “She is an investment. I had thought that Miranda was worthy of becoming my heir, but it is clear from her rejection of the life I gave her that this is not so.” His face turned to her. “You were such a disappointment. But to take little Oriana with you, to force her to share in your failure. That was just cruel.”

“I did everything you asked of me!” Miranda spat. “Every impossible task, every nonsensical challenge. I passed every test you flung my way with flying colours. But you always asked for more. Being the best I could be was never enough for you. You commanded me to become something beyond Human.”

“The perfect specimen would not balk at such a task.” Lawson growled. “Your hesitation to comply with my demands is just another facet of your failure. You’re not perfect. You’re not even close.” He turned to face something beyond the range of the holographic imager briefly before turning back. “Looks like my guards are nearly there. This time you won’t escape, Shepard. The Illusive Man is sending his agents to retrieve you from my custody in exchange for Oriana. Miranda, your sister and I shall be seeing you shortly. You may not have become what I intended, but you will still be useful in accomplishing my goals.”

Miranda struggled not to raise her gun at the image as it faded. Her rage showing in her face, she turned to the Commander.

“We’ve got to do something, Shepard! I can’t let him get a hold of Oriana!”

“We’re on it.” Shepard promised. He turned to Elanie, who had been discretely scanning the walls. “Got anything?”

“Here.” She replied, tapping an unremarkable stretch of the metal wall. “Got some power lines. Just have to figure out how to get this panel-“

She was interrupted by the Commander pushing her aside and swinging his arm at the wall. Unarmoured, the impact should have shattered every bone in a normal man’s arm. But Shepard wasn’t a normal man. Miranda herself had overseen the implementation of several bone and muscle upgrades that increased the density and durability of the Commander’s body. As it was, when the forearm and clenched fist hit the panel, the metal simply buckled under the thunderous impact. He then grabbed an edge of the buckled metal and pulled, tearing the panel from the wall. Elanie nodded with admiration before focusing on what lay beyond.

A bundle of thick wires wound their way past underneath, humming with stored power. Elanie cautiously held her omnitool over the wires, looking for the one she needed. Once found, she tugged at it, giving her some play in the wire so she could better work with it. She pulled a connection from her ‘tool and plugged it straight into the wire, the metal sparking as it took the charge. She fiddled with her omnitool for a few seconds before cursing.

“Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” Shepard asked.

“I can’t hack the doors. The controls are too well defended. An omnitool isn’t going to be enough for this task.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Shepard asked.

Elanie hesitated for a moment, clearly unwilling to present whatever option had occurred to her. Seeing the urgency of the situation, she apparently finally reached a decision.

“I guess now’s not the time for half measures.” She sighed. She tapped on her ‘tool and spoke into her palm. “Wake up, SeeSee.”

A green orb of holographic light shimmered into being in front of her. At first, Shepard thought it was a combat drone, like Tali’s Chiktikka, but a moment’s inspection highlighted a few key differences. The layers of light were much denser, more tightly packed, and the drone bore a pulsing ‘pupil’, like EDI’s.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” A tinny, electronic voice sounded out, a synthesised flange to the male voice clearly evident. “What do you- Aah!” It yelped, the glowing orb lifting up into the air about three feet above the squad. “Ellie, there are people around!”

“I know, SeeSee.” Elanie soothed. “It’s okay. They’re friends.”

“But you said if I ever showed myself in public-“

“I know I did, but we’re in a bit of a situation here and I need your help.”

The orb seemed to calm down until it turned to look at the Commander, noticing the pistols both he and Miranda had drawn.

“Aah!” It yelped, seeking cover behind Elanie.

“Commander, put those weapons away! He tends to get… nervous.”

“’He’ shouldn’t be capable of feeling anything!” Shepard snapped. “What are you doing with an AI in your back pocket?”

“He’s not a full AI, just a synthetic intelligence.”

“Same thing.”

“Not exactly. We haven’t got time for me to go into the details right now.” Elanie said calmly, despite the two guns aimed at her and the hologram behind her.

“I thought I recognised the name.” Miranda muttered. “Elanie Johanson. You were the lead tech on The Hephaestus Project.”

“How does the leader of a Cerberus cell come to serve the Shadow Broker as one of his top agents?” Shepard demanded, uncomfortable with this new truth about his supposed ally.

“She stole a valuable piece of technology from the project.” Miranda explained. “My guess is she went to the Broker for protection, and has been spying for his network ever since.”

“I didn’t steal him. I set him free.” Elanie said defiantly.

“Wait… the SI? That’s what you stole?” Miranda sounded a little incredulous.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know all of this already.” Shepard murmured.

“The Hephaestus Project was shut down before I had the same levels of access I so recently lost.” She explained. “After it shut down, thanks to her handiwork, all information on it was erased, and the techs were silenced. Except for Elanie. We never did find her.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my ability to hide.” Elanie said grimly. “Now, if you’re done digging up the past, we need to get moving.”

“I’m not trusting you until you tell me more about who you really are.” Shepard said firmly.

“Look, I keep myself to myself for my own reasons, okay. If its that important to you, then I promise, once we’re out of here, I’ll tell you every damn detail. But for now, can we just get on with this?”

Shepard reluctantly nodded to her. The Shadow Broker operative turned and leaned over the exposed wires, the glowing orb drifting down next to her. It gently touched the wires and, in a flash, was gone. Shepard felt himself tense at the thing’s disappearance.

“Where’d it go?” He demanded.

“He’s inside the network now. In a sense, he has become the network. Shouldn’t take long for him to-“

The blast doors began to grind apart, interrupting her explanation. Half a second later, the holographis orb reappeared.

“Ah, there we go.” Elanie said with a grin.

“Anything else you need, Ellie?” It asked helpfully.

“Not just now. You’d best get back into storage for now.”

Miranda watched the way the agent and the SI acted towards one another, a realising dawning. Could it be, she wondered. Could she have actually come to view this programme as he friend? She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts. This was neither the time nor the place.

As soon as their path was clear, Shepard resumed his march down the corridors, the rest of the squad moving into place behind him. Their pace hurried as the sounds of several pairs of booted feet charging towards them echoed down the corridors.

~o~0~o~

The squad had contended with several squad of guards by the time they were approaching their objective. Elanie’s map informed them that only a couple of dozen yards separated them from their destination. Miranda could feel herself growing more and more tense with every step they took, knowing in her gut that she’d have to confront her father before they left this place. The man would undoubtedly be in the central control complex by now, overseeing the movements of his kingdom with his usual arrogance.

She steeled herself, knowing that her anger with the monster who had created her would be more of a distraction than a source of strength in the coming battle. And against Victor Lawson, the man who knew her every strength and weakness, she could afford to be no less than the best she could be when she had to face him.

With this turmoil boiling in her mind, she barely noticed when the Commander slowed to a halt, looking through the glass window in the upper half of one of the doors that lined the corridor. Knowing he wouldn’t hesitate at the expense of their mission without good reason, she too chanced a look inside the room he was so interested in.

Her heart, already pained to capacity by her time in these labs, nearly gave out upon seeing what was on the other side of the door.

Meandering about aimlessly, a dozen raven-haired children were engaged in various activities, from answering questions on a holographic terminal to reciting memorised scripts to engaging in physical activities. At least two observation cams were focused on each child at any one time, recording every movement, every success, every failure. All of this data was filed on the massive computer that occupied the back wall of the lab, a hulking machine that loomed over the children like a hen over its chicks.

Miranda didn’t need to see the data on the computer to know that these children were hers. The stoic features, trained to be locked in a perpetual scowl of concentration, were irrefutably descended from hers. The children had to be biologically about six or seven, obviously having had their rate of ageing accelerated to accomplish in a few months what should have taken the best part of a decade.

With barely a thought, Miranda grabbed a hold of the door handle and pushed, striding into the lab. She felt the Commander’s hand brush her shoulder in an attempt to restrain her, but she shrugged it off stubbornly. As one, all of the children within turned to look at her with the same fixed expression on their faces, one of measured curiosity mixed with caution.

Her hands shaking, unsure of what she should do next, Miranda walked over to one of the girls in the room, kneeling down next to her. The girl’s face flushed bashfully, turning away from the stranger. Miranda smiled, a small, sad expression on her face that was meant to reassure the girl.

“Hey.” She said weakly, trying to put a reassuring note in her voice. “What’s your name?”

The little girl looked at her blankly. The way her brow creased signalled her incomprehension. Taking a different tack, Miranda reached for the girl’s hand, noticing the band she wore. She reacted almost mechanically, raising her hand for inspection. Miranda had to wonder at how often this procedure, among others, had been drilled into the tiny creature. She looked at the band, reading the information inscribed on it. The band identified her as ‘Subject two-forty six’. Miranda felt a cold lump in her chest, realising these children hadn’t even been given names, just identification numbers, a cold designation rather than a proper identity. She tried to shake off the horror she felt at this, not wanting to alarm the children. She renewed her smile, seeking a different approach.

“Can you speak?” She asked carefully. The girl nodded silently. Suppressing a frown, Miranda once again mentally changed gears. “What’re you working on?”

The girl held up a painting. It was no masterpiece, but Miranda’s heart melted to see it. It was… simple, but vibrant. A mix of colours and flowing lines, shape and shade coming together to make a pleasant image.

“That’s wonderful.” She breathed, her smile becoming more genuine. “It’s beautiful.”

The girl’s expression became more wary, obviously unused to such praise.

“Father says I need to keep trying. That I am not good enough yet.” She mumbled, looking down at her feet as her cheeks flushed.

Miranda looked at her for a moment, pity swelling in her soul. No child deserved to live like this, deprived of any positive reinforcement and left to continue to aspire for the approval of a man who had none to give. Acting on impulse, Miranda leaned forward, enveloping the girl in a tight embrace. The child froze, clearly startled and unsure of what a simple hug meant. The fact that this child did not react to her touch, the embrace of a mother for her child, only served to deepen the sorrow in Miranda’s heart. She felt tears streak their way down her face as she pressed her face into the hollow of the girl’s neck between her jaw and shoulder.

Around the pair, the other children were looking over curiously. The wonder and interest created by the small token of affection suggested they had never even seen such a thing, let alone experienced it.

“Miranda, I think you should come look at this.” Elanie’s insistent words drew her attention. She released the little girl, who had not moved the entire time she had held her, and stood up, moving to where the rest of the squad was examining the computer.

“I’ve got the files on the tests they were running here.” The Shadow Broker agent explained.

“What did you find out?” Miranda asked, certain she’d rather not find out.

“Apparently Lawson’s been testing ways to condition the children to remain loyal to him, both through genetic means and through environmental conditioning. Nature and Nurture stuff. Seems like he’s run into a problem, though. The Human instinct to make our own decisions is too strong to be overwritten in one night. Previous generations, who have aged into adolescence, have managed to resist the conditioning. These children show promise, but they won’t know for sure until they reach puberty.”

“What happened to the rebellious generation?” Shepard asked slowly.

“-Terminated.” Elanie’s single word was almost an apology aimed at Miranda, attempting to be as gentle as she could while telling the cold, hard truth. Even so, the ex-Cerberus operative felt the word strike her deeper than any bullet could. She shuddered before turning to the console herself, typing in a few commands.

“I’m taking a copy of the research done here and wiping the local files.” She said as she worked. “I want to know what changes my father made to these children, and work to undo the damage.”

“Miranda-“ Shepard tried to interject.

“Their ageing process has been accelerated past normal safe limits. At this rate, they wouldn’t live to see their tenth birthday. Fortunately, I am already familiar with the procedures needed to undo this. We had to use similar accelerated growth to culture some of the tissue needed for Project Lazarus. With the Normandy’s state-of-the-art Med Bay, fixing this shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Miranda.” The Commander’s tone was more insistent now.

“Of course, the treatments to make them more docile will be a little more difficult to undo, but that could potentially prove to be more dangerous. If I’m reading this right, then right now they’ll respond to commands from any authoritative figure. Even at the expense of their own safety.”

“MIRANDA!” Shepard’s shout was much sharper than he’d planned, and drew fearful glances from all of the children. Finally Miranda turned to look at him.

“What?” She asked, a tinge of defensiveness in her voice.

“What are you doing?” Shepard asked.

“Getting these children out of here.”

“We’re about to go into battle here, Miranda. It’ll be no place for a bunch of kids.”

“I’m not about to leave them in the hands of this… this monster.”

“The children do not feel a familial connection with you.” Etarn interjected. “Do you desire to impose your maternal instincts upon them?”

“They might not know me, but they will know loving parents.” Miranda said doggedly. “I don’t want them to go through the same childhood I had.”

Shepard caught her eye, staring at her with an analytical gaze. He finally seemed to reach a decision in his head.

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to leave them here either.” He turned to the Batarian and the other woman. “Etarn, Elanie, take the kids and head back up to the surface. Find Garrus and the others, and wait for the extraction team to arrive. Miranda and I shall take care of the defences by ourselves.”

“But-“ Elanie began.

“No buts.” Shepard responded firmly. “Now go. I have no idea what the situation is on the surface, but I know that the sooner you get to Garrus, the less likely it’ll be that you find him surrounded by enemies. Get the kids to him, and you’ll have the numbers to properly protect them.”

“Aye-aye.” Elanie said after a momentary hesitation.

Miranda watched as the pair rounded up the children. The little ones quailed at the sight of the four-eyed alien, but quickly fell in line after receiving orders from the grown-ups, further showcasing their docile nature.

After they had gone, the children marching eerily silently between the Batarian and the Human, Shepard took a hold of Miranda’s shoulder, guiding her out of the lab.

“C’mon. We’ve got to get a move on.” He ordered.

“Aye, Commander. Just give me a second.”

Miranda stalked across the room, back to where she had met two-forty six. She silently picked up the discarded picture the girl had been working on, folding the paper up and stowing it in her pocket.

“Ready, Shepard.” She looked around the empty lab pointedly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He smiled. “We’ve still got to get back home. Now let’s get going!”

~o~0~o~

~MORDIN~

Armoured vehicle. System’s Alliance Thresher class. Three inch armour plating, fish-scale design to deflect rather than absorb impacts. Relies upon small-calibre rounds launched with rapid-fire cannon. Majority of power devoted to maintaining kinetic barriers rather than high-power weapons systems. Designed for fights of attrition against smaller infantry units without weapon’s capacity to eliminate shields.

All of this cold, calculating thought buzzed through Mordin’s mind as he scurried for cover, dodging out of the way of the incoming fire. In seconds, he understood what he faced and began trying to find a way to exploit its weaknesses.

Shield coverage modular, focused over vital systems, cockpit, engine, weapons system. Possible to exploit gaps in coverage with overload burst. But, need to get close enough. Cover insufficient, supporting firepower lacking. Vakarian incapable of controlling battlefield alone, and allies insufficiently armed to present threat to armoured vehicles. Shields would take too much of a beating getting within range, and would need to remain exposed while using overload.

The wide-eyed alien’s gaze dropped to the ground beneath the hovering tanks, pupils narrowing as a spark of inspiration caught within his mind. Beneath the first Thresher, the grass was slowly crisping, singeing from the heat of the vehicle’s jets.

“Vakarian! Covering fire!” He yelled, standing up and presenting himself as a target.

His submachine gun chattered in his hand, sending several streams of glowing bullets arrowing straight at the first tank, only to be deflected by its defences. The shields continued to spark as Garrus fired off several shots from his sniper rifle, the high-velocity rounds hitting powerfully but still not penetrating. The tank reacted to the sudden assault, shifting clumsily to get a clear shot at the Salarian. Its fellow tried to move to attack, but found its field of view blocked by the first tank.

Mordin dashed across the open ground, feeling his shields take the brunt of the attacks that began to race his way. He covered the distance remarkably fast, faster than any of his friends would have thought possible of a Salarian of his age. His chest spasmed in pain as his breath ran ragged, his wound still playing up, but he made it to the side of the tank unharmed. As the tank shifted to the side, hoping to run him over, the Salarian dropped to the ground, turning his headlong progress into a tumbling roll. The infernal heat of the engines washed over him, causing his skin to prickle uncomfortably.

As the tank continued to move over him, the alien raised a hand, his omnitool sparking wildly with stored power. One of the engines moved past his field of vision, a blazing furnace pummelling the ground to keep the vehicle aloft. As it moved into position, Mordin released the pent-up charge in his ‘tool, sending a bolt of flame rushing up through the engine. Without waiting to find out how successful he was, the professor resumed him tumble, rolling back out from under the tank as a loud groan emerged from its belly.

The tank shuddered for a moment, parts breaking off it as it began to writhe, its structure wrestling with the forces raging inside of it. With a brilliant flash and a bang louder than anything Mordin had ever heard, the tank exploded, splinters of metal peppering the landscape all around. The turret lifted off from the rest of the structure, winging through the air in a graceful arc until it struck the ground not five feet from the shocked Garrus.

Getting up from where he had curled on the ground to protect himself from the brunt of the blast, Mordin hurriedly strode back to his team-mates, seeking cover once more as the second tank, recovering from the fiery oblivion its kin had suffered, rounded the flaming wreckage and opened fire.

The waiting Garrus and Delexia looked at the Salarian with a mix of awe and surprise. He returned their expression with a satisfied grin before turning to face the remaining threat.

“Thought I was harmless, did you?” He boasted.

~o~0~o~

~ELANIE~

Elanie found herself ducking down behind cover for what must have been the hundredth time that evening as she and the Batarian ushered the children into shelter from the bullets of yet another enemy squad. The Shadow Broker operative was exhausted from having to shepherd her tiny charges along safely. The children were clearly unsettled by being out of the only surroundings they had known their entire lives, blinking confusedly as they took in the new sights presented to them outside of their familiar lab. Every time a gun sounded, they jumped in terror, freezing as they remained unsure of what was going on. It took every ounce of Elanie’s will not to snap at them as they stumbled around in a daze.

Amazingly, Etarn had proved to be quite adept at handling the children. In spite of his intimidating visage, he kept his voice gentle but firm. The children, although being timid around him at first, had quickly warmed to him, obeying the four-eyed alien without hesitation.

A bullet pinged off the floor next to Elanie, soliciting a curse from her. Realising the growing danger of a pair of guards trying to flank the group, she activated her omnitool. A moment later, the jittery SeeSee flickered into being.

“What- aah!” He cried out as another close call ricocheted off the wall behind Elanie. The glowing orb that represented the SI jumped back a few feet in fear.

“SeeSee, get out there and keep them distracted. I’ll try and sneak around behind them.”

“Out there?! In the way of the bullets?!” The artificial being asked incredulously. Elanie stifled a chuckle at his simulated emotions.

“Just do it!”

“But-“

“Now!”

Grumbling, the glowing orb drifted out from behind their cover, rushing through the air towards the guards. They instantly shifted their aim, firing at the ghostly image. The shimmering shape of the SI’s interface flowed around the bullets, no more substantial than a sunbeam, although this didn’t prevent him from shrieking in fear as he streaked through the air, adding to the quality of his distraction.

Elanie used this distraction to slip out of her cover, making her way around the other side of the two guards. She scuttled up behind them, waiting for the opportune moment. As she placed the guards directly between herself and SeeSee, she leapt into action. Hurling herself at the guards, she caught one across the back of the knee with a powerful kick, rewarded with the crunch of bone as the joint gave way. As the guard stumbled to the ground, howling in pain and clutching at his mutilated leg, his comrade spun to face the new threat.

Elanie reacted swiftly, lifting her omnitool to send an Overload pulse at him. The man’s shields flickered and died, shorted out temporarily by the electro-magnetic pulse. She quickly followed up with a burst of her SMG, tearing holes in the guard’s belly.

She turned to finish off the second guard, only to feel a hand curl around her ankle, tugging hard and causing her to fall. She hit the floor hard, the impact sending the breath rushing out of her lungs and causing stars to wheel in her vision as her skull cracked loudly against the metal beneath her.

In less than a second, the guard whose leg she had broken had heaved himself on top of her, using his weight to pin her to the floor. Behind his helmet, she could hear heavy breathing as he snarled a curse at her. Through the dazed fog of her mind, she saw him draw his pistol and push it against her temple.

A brilliant flash threatened to blind her, causing the guard to squirm painfully as his eyes took its full brunt. He growled in pain, waving at the bright intrusion.

“Ellie!” SeeSee cried out, his image flaring brightly to create the light that blinded the guard.

Elanie used the sudden distraction to lift her own gun, blasting through the guard’s defences and perforating his chest with a stream of bullets. With a wet sigh, he slumped to the ground beside her. Her face splattered with gleaming red blood, Elanie turned a grin to her synthetic companion.

“Thanks, SeeSee.”

“Yeah, well, I need you to carry my CPU around, don’t I?” If anything, the SI’s voice was a shade embarrassed. Elanie responded to this with a chuckle.

“Fair enough.” She said through her smile, getting up slowly. She turned her attention to where she had left the group, seeing Etarn urging the children to get up. The Batarian still glowed from his recently expended biotics, tongues of blue fire racing up his arms. The alien turned a glance to her.

“How far?” He asked simply.

“Not much further now.” She answered. “We’re almost at the surface. Once we get out of these sub-levels, I’ll be able to signal Vakarian and we can get some proper firepower watching our backs.”

Etarn nodded, waving for the children to follow Elanie. She took the lead, being the one more familiar with the layout of the mansion form her studies of the schematics she had stolen. Etarn watched the rear of the column, using his biotics to shield the children as best he could.

They continued in this fashion for a little longer, making good progress towards the surface and the freight hangar. As soon as they had entered the hangar, filled to the brim with cargo containers, Elanie tested her commlink.

“Vakarian, this is Johanson. Do you read me?”

“-st about, Johans-“ The scratchy, static-filled reply came. “What- -ur posit-?”

“We’re in the freight hangar. We need some help here. Got non-combatants with us that need protecting. I repeat, we have children with us that we need to get out of here safely.”

“-ger that, Johanson. On- -ay.” The Turian replied. Apparently repeating the message had given him enough to piece the transmission together.

Elanie spun at the sound of an assault rifle chattering behind them, turning to see Etarn burst into blue flames as blood seeped from a shoulder wound. He turned and, with a flick of the wrist, lifted the attacking guard back into the large squad of his buddies that were close behind him.

The Shadow Broker agent rushed back to help her ally, but the sturdy Batarian waved her off irritably.

“Get the kids out of here.” He growled.

As the tough alien said this, the hangar doors began to grind open, slowly revealing a thin slice of the open ground beyond that promised, if not safety, at least some decent firepower to hold up until the extraction team arrived. Emboldened by this, Elanie increased her pace, leading the children between the crates towards the large doors.

The doors groaned open to reveal the waiting Garrus, down in a kneeling position, ready to provide covering fire to the retreating group. Beside him, Mordin was busily working on the door controls, their circuits exposed by the fire of some heavy weapon. Kasumi busily helped the Salarian, offering her tech skills to the professor when needed. On the Turian’s other side, Delexia was toting an assault rifle, ready to rush to the rescue of any allies in distress while Garrus covered her back. Behind this squad, two tanks sent twin pillars of smoke and flame into the night sky like beacons. Elanie wondered at how the squad, on foot, had managed to take on the two armoured vehicles with no heavy weaponry of their own. A moment’s additional searching found the unconscious form of Jack slumped against a piece of debris from the destroyed tanks, one half of her face caked in blood.

Elanie’s heart quickened to see her comrades so near, and it was all she could do not to break into a sprint for safety, forcing herself to remain in control and to stay with the children.

“Come on, kids!” Garrus shouted, his voice carrying an authority that none of the tiny Humans ignored.

As the children broke into a run, Elanie turned her gaze back over them, looking back to Etarn. The Batarian was wreathed in blue fire, sending bolts of dark energy back at the enemies that pressed in behind them. His shoulder, torn open pretty badly by the initial attack, seeped thick blood, leaving it in greasy patches on the metal at his feet. As she watched, he send a thunderous wall of energy barrelling at the enemy ranks, sending a few of the guards tumbling head over heels. Still more pressed forwards, filling the gaps left by their fallen comrades.

A shrill cry drew the attention of both the battling Batarian and the exhausted Elanie. They both turned to look to the source of the noise. A stray bullet had penetrated the barrier Etarn was maintaining, catching one of the children. Elanie noticed it was the girl Miranda had spoken to, Subject Two Forty Six. She clutched at a shoulder that bled profusely, knocked to all fours by the impact of the bullet. Seeing the child in distress, Etarn spun and darted towards her, scooping Two Forty Six up into his arms as the guards’ attacks continued to bounce off his personal barrier. His four eyes turned to Elanie.

“Go! See to the others!” He urged. Elanie nodded reluctantly, turning to follow the remaining children. She fired back over her shoulders at the guards occasionally, though mostly she left the task of holding the enemy back to her comrades beyond the hangar doors.

Garrus personally accounted for a half dozen of the guards in the space of a few seconds, his rifle snapping out the shots and scoring him an uninterrupted series of clean headshots. Beside him, Delexia’s fire proved to be more chaotic and undisciplined, reflective of her pirate background, but no less effective. Guards continued to fall to the combined firepower of the Turians.

As the first of the children raced through the open doors, Garrus’ eyes and mandibles flared in alarm.

“Elanie! Look out!” He cried in warning.

Elanie turned to look back, seeing one guard rush to the front rank, a large tube braced on one shoulder. Before any of the squad could stop him, the guard pulled the trigger on his rocket launcher. The world began to move in slow motion as the fiery projectile tore across the distance between the squad and their enemies. Elanie flinched instinctively from the attack, although the rocket went wide, not proving to be a threat to any of the fleeing children. The operative’s heart jumped as the rocket found a victim in the motor hauling the doors upwards, destroying the mechanism in a cloud of razor-sharp metal shards. Instantly, the door began to slide shut.

Elanie redoubled her pace, heaving herself through the closing door as it descended over her head, helping the last of the children to get through. She turned to look back, only to see Etarn lagging behind. With Two Forty Six in his arms, the Batarian ran with all the power he could muster, even using his biotics to boost his speed. All of this effort, however, proved to be for naught, as the heavy metal doors completed their relentless descent.

She ran back as the doors ground too low for Etarn to get through, her fists colliding with the thick metal as it clanged shut.

“No!” She yelled, thumping the doors in frustration.

She sagged in exhaustion against the door, remaining there until a three-fingered hand clamped down on her shoulder. She looked up into Garrus’ stern features, the Turian obviously grieved that his comrade had not made it out. Both of them jumped as their commlinks crackled, a barely adequate signal coming through.

“Vakarian! Answer me, ancestors damn it!” The Batarian’s voice was filled with static, grainy but understandable. With a relieved but still anxious expression, Garrus tapped a command on his omnitool.

“Garrus here.”

“I’m still alive, but I’m being hounded pretty bad.” The Batarian explained. In the background, the loud war chant of enemy guns sounded out very close by. “I can’t get out this way, so I’ll try and find another route.”

“We could try blasting through here.” Garrus suggested.

“Not a hope.” Etarn almost chuckled. “You’d need something like the Normandy’s prow cannon to burn through these doors, and we’ve still got no way of calling in that kind of firepower. I’ll find another way ‘round. Much easier when there’s just the two of us to get out of here undetected.”

“Roger that.” Garrus said reluctantly. “Try not to take too long, okay?”

“Never figured you’d be one to miss me, Vakarian. You’re not going soft on me, are you?” Etarn quipped.

“It’s not that, its just with you gone our weekly Skyllian Five game is one short, and you still owe me two hundred from last week’s ass-kicking.”

The Batarian actually laughed at this, something Elanie found incredible given the circumstances, before signing off. Garrus turned to look at the rest of his team, busily herding the rescued children into one group they could keep track of.

“We’ve got to keep on the move.” He strode over to the recumbent Jack, throwing her over one shoulder. “Come on.”

Without a word, the rest of the team followed, making their way from the hangar doors. As they scaled the slope leading away, Elanie’s commlink squawked.

“Does anyone read me out there? Commander, Vakarian. Hell, I’ll take the damn Geth, anyone!”

“Jacob!” Garrus answered the call.

“Finally!” The Human responded with relief. “What the hell’s going on? We’ve been trying to reach anyone for ages.”

“We?”

“Me, Samara and Feron have gathered together. We’re working to take out the AA guns Lawson’s got watching the sky, but we were starting to get worried when we didn’t hear anything from the rest of you. Where’s Shepard?”

“He’s still inside the mansion.” Elanie chipped in, providing the latest intel the squad had. “He and Miranda are working to shut down the comm jammers and the perimeter shields so we can get the shuttles in to pick us up.”

“You got Miranda out safe?” Jacob sounded relieved.

“Hey, try not to sound so happy, Jakey!” Kasumi chimed in, the tones of jealousy permeating her voice.

“Even with the shields and jammers knocked out, the shuttle will never get through with those guns active.” Garrus said firmly, steering the team’s focus back to the task at hand.

“We’re taking ‘em out one by one, but we’re making slow progress.” Jacob explained. “Two teams would get this done a lot faster.”

“We have non-combatants with us.” Garrus said gravely. “So we can’t all help you. I’ll lead my team to a defensible location and hold that position. Then I’ll send Kasumi and Mordin to help you where they can. The rest of us will stay with the children, keep them safe.”

“Children?” Jacob was truly startled. “What the hell?”

“Long story, I’ll tell it back on the Normandy.” Elanie said quickly.

“Roger that.” Jacob answered gruffly. “There’s a small hill midway between the first two AA guns, between the mansion and that lake. The trees give you good cover, while the slope makes it hard to approach. It’d be ideal for you to hold until the shuttle gets here.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Garrus acknowledged. “ We’ll head there just now. Meet us there once you’re done with the AA guns.”

This decided, the squad set off for the hill, the eleven remaining children in their midst as they set a steady marching pace.

~o~0~o~

[fainmaca]

~o~0~o~

~ETARN~

Etarn crouched down behind a crate, clutching the tiny form of Two Forty Six to his chest. The child was shivering, her face drained of colour. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she moved weakly in his grasp, her leg bleeding profusely, staining the plain white clothes she wore a vivid scarlet. Seeing that the girl was fading, Etarn paused in his flight from the pursuing guards, pulling an application of medi-gel from a pouch on his belt. He quickly tore open her trouser leg, getting the fabric clear of the wound. He then smeared the gel over the wound, sealing it under a makeshift coat of transparent goo. It was hardly the work of a professional surgeon, but it would staunch the bleeding for now, keeping her alive long enough to get her back to the ship.

He jumped as a nearby explosion rocked the crate he was hiding behind. In his arms, the dazed girl’s eyes focused long enough to flash with fear before slipping back into her blood-loss-induced delirium. As he made to stand again, a twinge in his shoulder drew his attention to his own injuries. The sturdy alien had barely noticed when the bullets had punctured his shoulder, thankfully missing anything vital. But the wound still seeped copious amounts of blood, and the longer he left it the worse his fatigue would get. Pausing briefly to summon the biotic energy necessary to hurl a couple of approaching guards back a few metres, Etarn tended to his injuries swiftly. Thus patched up, he made ready to move.

He shifted Two Four Six onto his back, grabbing hold of the girl’s wrists in front of his neck to hold her in place. He focused his mind on shaping a Barrier, surrounding himself and his tiny charge in a cocoon of swirling sapphire smoke that offered a little more protection than just their skin. He made sure the flickering energy was more concentrated over his back, giving her more protection than himself from the incoming fire. He could take a few more hits. The girl, not so much. She was already threatening to go into shock from the injury to her leg. Any sort of pain could send her over the edge.

The Batarian steeled himself. That wouldn’t happen while he was responsible for her. He forced his mind to centre on the approaching guards, his hand weaving a complicated dance before his chest. In one fluid motion, he stood, turned to face his pursuers, and flung out one hand, palm first. A massive, roiling wall of dark energy burst forth from his palm, its swirling eddies catching the front ranks of the guards unawares and sweeping them up in a tide of flailing limbs and dropped weapons.

This done, the alien turned to run, setting off at a sprint. The diminutive form of Two Forty Six thudded against his back awkwardly, the girl grunting as she shifted painfully against his grip. The two of them felt the staccato shudder of a multitude of bullets pinging off their defensive barrier, none of the shots having sufficient power to penetrate the biotic shield.

The Batarian gasped as he ran, his political background not having prepared him for such athletic endurance. As he exerted his biotics to keep their shield up, his energy reserved swiftly dwindled, the subtle weight of the child on his back becoming heavier with every step. He wove his way down a series of twisting corridors, not caring where they led so long as it was away from the guards. In no time, he was very lost.

His eyes caught sight of a possible refuge, a pair of open doors to one side that appeared to be quite heavy, leading to yet another stretch of corridor. A blast door, perhaps? Whatever it was, it would at least hold back the guards long enough for him to regain some of his expended energy. Without a further thought, he dipped in through the doors, swiftly spinning to work on the door controls.

With a hesitant pace, the doors began to grind shut. Etarn tensely worked at the controls to get it sealed before they were caught. He typed out a command to lock the door, shutting out the opposing door control that the guards had on their side. As the gap between the doors narrowed, a guard reached the opening, struggling to push himself through before the Batarian sealed himself away on the far side. With barely any effort, the adrenaline of battle powering his amp, Etarn waved a hand at the hapless guard, throwing him back through the closing door with such force that he knocked over his comrades, coming through behind him, and hit the far wall with a sickening crunch. At last, the doors slid shut with an air of finality.

Inside, serenaded by the sounds of the pursuing guards thumping on the door ineffectually and the beeps of the door control refusing them access, Etarn almost collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. The slight weight of Two Forty Six slid from his shoulders, the girl curling up on the floor in a heap.

The pair waited there for a few precious moments, Etarn struggling to regain his strength after the furious biotic display he had just expended almost all of his energy upon. After a short breather, he dragged himself to his feet and walked over to the terminal that controlled the door, trying to use it to find a route out of the building.

“Why are you doing this?”

Etarn turned in surprised at the girl’s mumbled question. She looked up at him with bleary eyes. He stammered for a second before finding a suitable explanation.

“We’re going to take you somewhere safe, where you’ll be looked after properly.” He turned back to his work. “You’ll have a real family, and a home.”

“But why?” She persisted. “You’re an alien, a Batarian. Father says that all Batarians hate us. Don’t you hate me?”

Etarn was staggered at the simple question. How could Lawson channel so much bigotry and negative thinking into one childhood? Once again he found himself staggering over his words.

“Your father has not met every Batarian. Some of us are nice. Some of us are bad, yes, but you need to judge a person by what they do, not by how many eyes they have. I used to think all Humans were the same, but then I met Shepard.”

“The nice man in the lab?”

“Yes.” Etarn smiled.

The child was silent for a few moments, her heavy breathing betraying her drowsy state. She seemed to spend a good while sleeping, but her next question revealed that, even in her injured state, the keen inquisitiveness and persistence of a child’s mind shone through.

“Father says Humans are better than everyone else.”

The statement struck the Batarian profoundly. That a child would say this to him without hesitation was mildly amusing, but also betrayed the mindset Lawson was trying to instil in his offspring. He had to think about the answer he would give for a few moments, drawing his attention away from the terminal.

“We’re all born into the same Galaxy. What we do to make it a brighter place is what makes us, not the genes we’re born with or the planet we come from. You’ll see when we get out of here.”

“I don’t think so. We’re not allowed to leave the mansion.” Two Forty Six mumbled.

They were silent for another brief moment before Etarn heard the girl’s clothes rustle as she shifted into a more comfortable position, whimpering in pain as she applied a little pressure to the medi-gel patch covering her wound.

“Why was the nice lady so sad?”

This new twist to the conversation caught Etarn off-guard.

“Nice lady?” He asked, not sure who Two Forty Six meant.

“The one in the lab. She liked my picture, but she was crying.”

“That was Miranda.” Etarn explained. “She wasn’t sad, she was just really happy.”

“Why?” The child demanded.

“Well…” Etarn struggled. “She was happy to see you.”

“Why?” She asked, in that ever-so-persistent way children do.

“She’s your mother.” Etarn relented, deciding truth was better than fiction. “She’s never seen you before, and was really happy to find you.”

“Father says I don’t have a mother.” She responded matter-of-factly. “He says I was made in a lab.”

“Its true that you were made in a lab, but everyone needs a mother, child.” Etarn said pityingly. Apparently the children received no illusion about how and why they were created. The girl grunted at his words.

“Hmm.” She mumbled, rubbing her head against her shoulder sleepily as she closed her eyes again, the anaesthetic qualities of the medi-gel kicking in. “Will it be nice, having a mother?”

“I’m sure it will, child.” Etarn said, turning from the terminal, having found what he needed to get them out of there. He uploaded the map to his omnitool, memorising the details, and knelt next to the almost-asleep girl. With gentle care, he lifted her up and set off down the corridors towards freedom.

He hadn’t gone twenty yards before a sudden clanging made him jump. Almost above his head, a grate popped out of its bracket in the ceiling, crashing down on the floor with a clatter. Behind this grate, a featureless metal ‘face’ came into view, iconic flashlight ‘eye’ surprisingly reassuring given the race of its owner.

“Allied unit located.” Legion intoned flatly.

“Legion! Thank the ancestors.” Etarn said warmly. “I can’t believe I’m actually glad to see a Geth.”

“Belief is not necessary to experience positive emotions at our presence.” The Geth said as it clambered out of the shaft. “We have been attempting to locate allied units for some time now. Requesting status update on remainder of allied squad.”

“They’re all okay, as far as I can tell. Shepard is still in the building, trying to take down the shields and comm jammers with Miranda. The rest of the squad is outside, trying to stay in one piece until the shuttle arrives.”

“Unknown unit detected.” The Geth said, looking at the slumbering Two Forty Six.

“This is Two Forty Six. A test subject created from Miranda’s genetic material. Shepard ordered myself and Elanie to get her and her siblings to the surface for extraction, but I got separated from the rest of them.”

The Geth buzzed for an instant, clearly processing this data.

“Consensus achieved. We will assist you in delivering unit Two Forty Six to extraction zone, as Shepard-Commander has instructed. We will then assist allied units in holding extraction zone until Shepard-Commander is able to exfiltrate safely.”

“I’ll take any help I can get.” The Batarian smiled. He offered his omnitool to the sentient machine. “I’ve downloaded a map of this level. We should be able to get to the surface no problem using it. Lead the way.”

“Acknowledged.” The Geth said, pulling a rifle from the holster on its back.

The trio set off, Legion in the lead with Etarn following closely behind, the tiny Two Forty Six cradled in his arms.

~o~0~o~

~KASUMI~

“Come on, kids! Keep moving!”

Kasumi’s voice sounded out over the group, urging the children to hurry. The hill the group was travelling towards was very close now, looming over the cluster of squad mates and children. Garrus and Delexia led the way, the latter weighed down by Jack’s inert form while the former used his assault rifle to sweep the land before them, making sure no enemies lay in wait. The eleven children were clustered in a small knot in the heart of the pack, looking about in wonder and fear at the new world they were experiencing. Mordin, Elanie and Kasumi brought up the rear of the column, ready to fend off any pursuit.

Weariness threatened to overwhelm the Japanese thief as she began the slow climb up the slope of the hill, the full weight of the mission beginning to settle upon her shoulders. She hadn’t felt this exhausted since the mission beyond Omega Four. Of course, these thoughts brought back memories of her time with the Normandy crew pursuing the Collectors. Strangely enough, being in this tense situation made her feel at home. Being back among her friends, facing monumental challenges, doing something that mattered. Tired as she was, she was thrilled to be a part of it.

Seeing one small boy straying from the pack, she moved forwards, guiding him back towards the rest with a firm hand and a friendly smile. She was good with kids, and had quickly established a rapport with her small charges. They responded well to her bright manner, better than the way they responded to the Turians or to Mordin. It appeared that their ‘father’ had passed on his own pro-Human beliefs even to these youngsters.

“Almost there.” Garrus called out as he strode up the hill powerfully. Moments later he crested the hill, sharp eyes scanning the hilltop as he evaluated the position as a temporary refuge for the group.

A ring of trees had been planted atop the hill, providing a screen for the squad against any incoming fire, while the bare slopes allowed no protected angle of approach for any enemy troops. It wasn’t exactly a fortress, but it would do for now. If Shepard did his job right, the extraction team would be en route soon. Having inspected their new shelter, the Turian glanced back to the slight Human and the Salarian.

“This’ll do for now. Delexia, Elanie, set up a perimeter. I’ll find the best vantage point to cover all angles of approach. Kasumi, Mordin, its time for you to go give Jacob a hand out there. Make sure the skies are clear for the extraction team.”

“I won’t let you down.” Kasumi said tensely. Beside her, Mordin bowed his head.

The pair split off from the main group, slipping back down the hillside as quickly and inconspicuously as they could. Kasumi almost danced through the darkness, in her element. She lived to sneak around, relishing the chance to dodge the Lawson estate’s entire private army if need be. Amazingly, Mordin seemed to have no trouble keeping up with her, his past with the Special Tasks Group apparently having given him some experience with remaining unseen..

It took a few minutes for the duo to make their way across the grounds towards the nearest active anti-aircraft emplacement, dodging a couple of patrols of guards. By the time they reached roughly the halfway point to their first objective, Kasumi became aware of a dull thumping chatter coming from behind. She paused for a second, looking over her shoulder. Back the way they had come, she could faintly see the outline of a pair of large vehicles assailing Garrus’ position atop the hill. Around them, at least a dozen guards moved to clamber up the slopes.

“Mmm. Enemy forces are aware of fortified position atop hill.” Mordin sniffed. “Not concerned, however. Vakarian has experience in holding back numerically superior force from an entrenched location. Should be capable of holding back enemy until possible to signal for extraction.”

“Well we’re not doing anything to help him by standing here talking about it.” Kasumi said, shaking her shoulders to refocus on her mission. “Come on. Let’s take out these AA guns.”

~o~0~o~

Kasumi tensed as she crawled through the thick cluster of bushes, silently cursing her choice in clothing as her jumpsuit snagged on another thorny plant. Up ahead, the AA gun pulsed with stored power, grinding as it spun around to scan the surrounding area. A knot of guards surrounded the emplacement, ready for any attempt to get at the gun’s controls. With several of the turrets now going rogue and targeting friendly units, the guards had tightened their security around the remaining untouched ones.

As Kasumi looked across at her target, she noted a tiny ripple in the bushes on the far side. Apparently Mordin was in position. Realising this, the little thief settled down into a crouch, waiting for the alien’s signal.

She didn’t have long to wait. With a crackle and a whoosh of rushing air, the plants on the far side of the AA gun burst into flames, swiftly transforming the cluster of greenery into a blazing inferno. The guards, caught unawares, moved to combat the blaze. One of them flared blue as he summoned his biotics, using his powers to create a bubble of dark energy. He slowly dropped the blazing blue shape upon one burning bush, the flames dying as they were starved of oxygen. None of this made much difference, though, as the fire continued to crackle and consume all growth around it. Pretty soon, the guards were forced to retreat from the intense heat of the fire, their armour overwhelmed by the blaze.

As soon as the guards began to retreat, Kasumi darted forwards, heading straight for the base of the turret. In seconds, she had the panel off the controls, hacking into the turret and accessing the emplacement’s programming.

The incredible heat of the flames caused a sweat to spring up on her skin, her mouth and eyes drying out swiftly. As she worked at a frenzied pace to rewrite the turret’s programming, she became aware of Mordin approaching at a hurried pace.

“We must move, quickly.” He said, using a Cryo Blast from his omnitool to douse a pillar of flames that had sprung up a little too close to Kasumi. “This location will soon be engulfed by flames, unsafe to remain for much longer.”

“I’m working on it!” Kasumi said through clenched teeth. The air was already too hot for her lungs. She could only imagine what it was doing to the amphibious alien.

She blinked her eyes furiously as the numbers on her omnitool refused to sit still, her vision blurring from the heat. Finally she aligned the final few lines of code, and the display turned green in confirmation.

“Got it!” She almost shouted triumphantly. Immediately, the turret spun on its bearings, seeking out formerly friendly targets.

Using his omnitool to cut a path through the inferno, Mordin led the blinking Kasumi out from the heart of the fire, his own eyes blinking painfully as they dried out.

Finally they stepped out from the boundaries of the fire, racing away from the copse of vegetation as the flames continued to spread. Already a thick column of grey smoke towered above the AA gun, showing up faintly against the night sky and lit from within by the flames below.

As the duo ran from their handiwork, Kasumi tapped a command on her omnitool.

“Kasumi here. We’ve taken care of our gun emplacement.”

“I can see that.” Jacob replied approvingly. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

“You know Mordin.” Kasumi answered brightly. “He loves to make a statement.”

“Sounds about right.” Garrus chuckled.

“What’s next?” Kasumi asked.


“We could use some help over here.” Jacob explained. “Got a few squads looking to corner us.”

“We’ve got guards moving to flank us, but we’re holding them for now.” Garrus said. “I figure you’d be best helping Jacob’s squad out.”

“Understood.” Kasumi acknowledged. “Hang in there, Jake. We’ll be with you in a flash.”

She turned and nodded to Mordin and the pair vanished into the night, leaving the towering inferno with the hacked turret at its heart behind them.

~o~0~o~

~JACK~

Bump. Bump. Bump.

Jack awoke to a sickening sensation of movement, her head thudding against something angular and hard. A sharp, pointed shape jutted into her gut, a shoulder judging by the feel of it. Still a little groggy, she let her hands slide over the back of whoever it was that was carrying her. Her fingertips brushed against scales.

A Turian, then. Or a Krogan. But judging by the bony shoulder in her belly, it had to be a Turian.

With a lurch, her carrier stopped, bending to place her on the ground. Jack winced as she felt cool, moist soil against her skin, the rough abrasion of tree bark against her back. Judging by the noise of slithering leaves over her head they had to be in a rather dense copse of trees.

“You just sit here, hon. I’ll be right back.” Delexia’s voice soothed.

“Wait, where are we?” Jack asked, her arm snapping out to catch the Turian by the wrist as the alien patted her shoulder.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Delexia sounded relieved. “Good. Had us worried for a little while there. You still with us? Still all in one piece up here?” A talon tapped the side of the convict’s head.

“I remember enough to know Vakarian’s gonna get splattered all over the hull when we get home.” Jack growled. “Son of a **** practically tore my goddamn ear off!”

“Had to be done. It was either that or let you keep twitching as that chip fried your brain.” Delexia’s voice explained. “But as for where we are, we’ve managed to get to the mansion grounds. We’re still a good way away from being home and dry, but we’re working on it. Taylor’s leading half the squad in taking down the AA guns in the area while Garrus bunkers down here to keep the kids safe.”

“Where’s Shepard?” Jack’s voice did an admirable job of hiding her desire for his safety.

“Still inside with Miranda. They’re working on taking out the shields and the comm jammers so we can get Alenko in here to pick us up. Shouldn’t be long now. They’ve-“

“Delexia, get up here now!” Garrus barked. “We’ve got movement to the South.”

Jack grew tense as she felt the pirate’s presence leave her side, leaving her alone with the shadows of her damaged retinas. She tensed as she heard the sounds of multiple unknown forms rustling through the plants nearby, unable to tell if they were friend or foe.

A tiny hand touched hers, eliciting a flare of her biotics in retaliation, although she was less afraid of her situation now and so more in control of her powers, holding back from smearing the intruder across the landscape. Nevertheless, the hand retreated as dark energy rippled across her flesh. Finally, a timid voice spoke up.

“The lady Turian said you can’t see.” The shrillness of the voice betrayed a girl.

“Nope.” Jack said simply. She had no time for kids.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yep.”

“Can we sit with you? The other grown-ups are too busy and shout at us.”

Jack shrugged indifferently. They could do what they liked. She should have been out there helping the others kick some ass. Instead, she was stuck here, cowering.

“You can do whatever you damn well feel like.”

She still jumped as the first small, warm body nestled in next to her, her first instinct being to move away from the contact, but then another small form sat on her other side, cutting off her angle of retreat. Pretty soon, she was surrounded by children, all trying to get to the middle of the pack, close to Jack where it felt safest. They sat this way for a few silent moments, the sounds of a gunfight nearby the only noise reaching the convict’s ears over the quiet breathing of the children around her.

“Why did you draw pictures on yourself?” One child asked, his cold hand pressed down upon a spot on her arm where the face of a woman who had been a part of Jack’s past a long time ago had been branded. Even though her eyes were useless, she still felt the orbs twist in their sockets to gaze at the spot.

“Some are ‘cause I don’t want to forget ****.” She said, knowing some would have frowned at her profane manner in front of youngsters. She couldn’t care less.

“Why?” A girl piped up. “Do you forget a lot of things?”

“No, not really.” Jack said, startled by the literal translation of what she was trying to express. “Its just that there are some things that people want to forget about, pretend never happened, but not me.”

“Why would anyone want to forget something?” This new child seemed genuinely confused. “Father punishes us if we don’t remember something.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s an ****.” Jack said hotly, knowing full well what it meant to have some authority figure loom over your life, directing every breath you took, damn near every thought you had, as well as any other aspect of your existence. “You forget what you don’t wanna remember and remember what you don’t wanna forget. Don’t let anyone tell you what to think about anything. You make your decisions, no one else.”

“What about the other pictures?” The girl asked persistently.

“Sometimes they’re just ‘cause I thought they looked cool. Most of the time its to scare people away.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Another girl asked curiously.

“Because I don’t like people sticking their nose in my business.” Jack realised that this would be far too subtle for the kids to take the hint, but was surprised when they seemed to accept it without pause.

One child leaned against her shoulder, the silky tresses of hair rubbing against the biotic’s exposed skin as she took a firm grip of Jack’s hand and clung to the woman tightly.

“I think they’re pretty.” The tiny voice sounded not far from the convict’s ear, coming from somewhere amidst those curling locks.

No one could have been more surprised than Jack was when she felt her mouth twitch upwards in a ghost of a smile, a strange warmth swelling within her gut at the simple words. Subconsciously, her hand tightened around the girl’s, savouring the contact.

~o~0~o~

Some time later, the chatter of gunfire started growing louder and louder. Jack emerged from the half-slumber she had slipped into, looking about with her sightless eyes. Around her, the children began to stir restlessly, unnerved by the growing volume of the battle.

Garrus and his team must have been forced back from their initial positions, Jack surmised. Maybe there was some heavy firepower they couldn’t deal with on foot, or maybe it was just sheer numbers that eliminated whatever advantage Garrus had in the lay of the land.

She jumped as a thunderous crack echoed amidst the trees, followed by an even louder roar as branches snapped and trunks splintered. Over this cacophony, she could hear a deep thump, thump, thump of an engine churning. An armoured vehicle or a tank, maybe. As it drew closer and closer, Jack began to hear voices cresting over the massive wave of noise the machine was making.

With a terrifying suddenness, Jack’s entire world shuddered, exploding with white-hot noise. The tree she was cowering underneath was obliterated by an explosive shell, showering both Jack and the children with splinters.

Reacting without thought, Jack threw up a defensive biotic dome, shielding herself and the children from the sudden bombardment. She grunted as the barrier took another hit, deflecting a powerful shot from the enemy tank. Her ears still rang from the near miss, but she thought she could hear the concerned shouts of her comrades somewhere in the distance. The sharp crack of a sniper rifle announced Garrus’ presence somewhere within range, while the more furious bursts of fire heralded Elanie and Delexia’s automatic weapons.

Jack felt another surge of power go through her amp as her barrier struggled to hold back another shell from the tank, the air inside the bubble heating up from the ferocity of the explosions it was turning aside. Her leg quivered under her, her biotic amp sending jolts of energy through her body as it demanded more and more from her.

A pair of tiny arms wrapped around her leg, a quiet whimper sounding from the throat of one of the children as she struggled to remain upright. The small presence at her knee reminded her of what else was at stake here.

With renewed purpose, Jack forced herself to stand upright, raising her arms before her. As yet another shell threatened to tear the barrier apart, she turned to face the source of the attack, summoning every ounce of power she could.

With a roar, Jack sent a titanic blast of dark energy barrelling towards the tank. When she sensed her powers engulf the metal of the vehicle, she refocused her thoughts to tearing, ripping, crushing. There was a terrible scream of tearing metal, followed closely by a powerful explosion. Before the shattering tank could do any damage to her or the children, Jack threw the flaming ball of debris away, sending it crashing through the trees.

The small forest was silent for a moment as Jack sagged to her knees, her reserves spent. Then, with a somewhat timid pace, what remained of the guards resumed their advance, their booted feet tramping down heavily on what remained of the undergrowth. As they drew close, the fire coming from the rest of the squad intensified, and Jack heard many wet thumps as bullets pierced flesh and bodies dropped to the ground.

In just a few more seconds, all sounds of gunfire faded, the last of the guards having fallen, apparently. There were a few quiet footsteps, and a towering presence stepped close to Jack.

“You alright?” Garrus asked, cautious enough not to startle her with physical contact before announcing his presence.

Jack nodded silently.

“Come on. We’ve got to get moving.” The Turian ordered.

A pair of strong arms helped Jack to her feet, a three-fingered hand leading her along. The children stayed close to the convict, one tiny hand finding her free one while another replaced Garrus’ firm grip.

~o~0~o~

~SHEPARD~

The Commander looked back over his shoulder as Miranda crouched down in front of the pair of doors in their way. Shepard had grown ever more anxious as the pair had delved deeper into the sub-levels, realising that every step took him further from his allies. They were on their own down here. If Lawson had a trap set for them, he couldn’t get a message out to his allies in time.

“Just a second, Shepard.” Miranda muttered as she tweaked a couple of wires, establishing a connection to the door’s interface.

“You sure you can do this?” Shepard asked, noticing how she frowned in concentration as she struggled with the system’s encryption.

“Please, Shepard. I grew up in this building. I’ve had more than one opportunity to break into my father’s security systems.”

The Commander relented, nodding in acknowledgement. Frankly, it wasn’t the doors he was worried about. He was more concerned about how his friend would react when faced with her past. The confrontation with Lawson was inevitable, but how would she handle the situation.

With an affirmative beep, the door hissed open, revealing the central control room beyond.

Shepard’s mind immediately began sounding alarm bells when he noticed that there was not a single soul within. The control consoles beeped quietly, unmanned, while the lights overhead flickered brightly. Without thinking, Shepard brought his rifle to bear, scanning all corners of the room visible from the door. Miranda stood up, moving next to him. She, too, had her weapon out and was searching for any sign of hostile movement. Apparently the ex Cerberus operative had not had her instincts dulled by her time in stasis.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered. “Why would father have everyone abandon their posts?”

“Its obviously a trap.” Shepard said firmly. “But we need to get the barriers and jammers offline.”

“What do you suggest?” Miranda asked.

“Spring the trap.” Shepard smirked.

“In the classic Normandy fashion.” Miranda quipped back. “Good to know not that much has changed in my absence. I was worried you might have actually started looking before you leaped.”

“Would you have it any other way?” The Commander chuckled, taking a cautious step forwards.

The duo entered the room slowly, cautiously. Miranda began to circle to the right while Shepard moved left. The Commander looked around the room warily as he moved through it.

The main control room was large, at least twenty metres long with the ceiling about two stories above. Terminals lined the walls, workstations for monitoring the various video feeds of the estate. This station was much more complex than the one Legion had been working out of, providing absolute control over every segment of the mansion’s security. Had the Geth managed to entrench itself here, it would have been impossible for Lawson to regain control of the system.

A massive tower of processing units occupied the centre of the room like the massive trunk of a tree. It reached up to the ceiling, where it bowed outwards on all sides in a conical shape. There were two more levels to the control centre, upper mezzanines that ringed the room, providing space for yet more terminals. When fully staffed, this room would have been a hive of activity, housing over fifty workstations.

Miranda stepped up to the central computer tower, instantly establishing an interface between her omnitool and the system.

“Just give me a moment. I can have the firewalls down in no time, and then its just a snap to deal with those jammers.” She said as she typed away on her ‘tool industriously.

Shepard jumped as the doors slammed shut, seemingly in reaction to Miranda’s tampering. A brilliant red barrier sprang into effect around the central computer, trapping Miranda next to the machine and separating her from the Commander. She spun, looking to Shepard with a startled expression. Even though they had known full well that something was going to happen, this had not factored into what they expected.

One of the larger displays glimmered as an image of the now familiar Victor Lawson’s face sprang into view. The wound across the bridge of his nose still seeped a trickle of red, a souvenir from his time with Samara. It would clearly leave the man scarred. His face twisted with anger as he swiped the trickle of blood from his face, holding up his red-stained fingers in an accusing gesture.

“I have your little blue friend to thank for this, Shepard. When I find her, I’m going to make sure she suffers.”

“You won’t be doing anything of the sort.” Shepard said defiantly. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking Miranda and the children with me.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Commander. I have you contained now.” He turned to look at something off-screen. “Move in. Take out Shepard by any means necessary, but leave Miranda alive.”

Instantaneously, doors hissed open on the upper levels, allowing about a dozen guards to stream in before slamming shut behind them to close off any avenue of escape. As Shepard brought his gun to bear on the new threat, the enemies leapt over the railings, dropping down towards the floor. Some were slowed by some kind of jet-boot, touching down on the metal floor of the lower level gracefully. Others glowed blue as their biotics caught them.

These guards looked different. The non-biotics had very heavy armour, exaggerating their arms and legs to Krogan proportions, glowing white power conduits traversing their limbs. The heavy gauntlets and boots suggested to Shepard that he’d rather not get into a fist-fight with them. They also each had a glowing blue box of some sort attached to their right wrists. As they advanced, they held their right arm out in front of them defensively, parallel to their chests. The blue boxes sparked wildly before projecting a large, round shield before them. These shields looked somewhat similar to that carried by the former Shadow Broker, but looked as though they weren’t as powerful. This was soon proved when a burst of bullets from his assault rifle caused one shield to lessen in intensity. The shields could be brought down, but they would provide the bearer with additional time to get into melee range.

The biotics, meanwhile, wore a more skin-tight jumpsuit made from black material. Bright blue patches flickered across their torsos while a tight cowl hid their scalps from view, the only exposed skin being their faces. As Shepard watched, they flickered blue all over before vanishing. The Commander cursed at this. Enemies with Stealth would be tough enough, but having to deal with their biotics, too would be nigh impossible.

The Commander began to draw back as the shield-bearers pressed forwards, keeping up a steady stream of fire that pummelled the glowing blue barriers mercilessly.

As Shepard stepped back, passing the sealed main doors, he became aware of a shimmering presence next to him. He barely had time to turn towards the new threat before one of the cloakers hit him with a powerful biotic punch, knocking the Commander off-balance before vanishing again. Shepard squeezed the trigger of his rifle as he wheeled back from the blow, sending a spray of bullets at where the enemy had just been. He was rewarded with a gasp of pain as his bullets found their mark, leaving a line of red holes across the chest of an invisible being, the bloody droplets appearing the moment they went beyond the cloaking effect of the jumpsuit. The invisible body dropped to the floor, the suit’s cloaking effect coming to an end as the lithe Human’s life ebbed from him.

Shepard had no time to celebrate this victory, however as, still reeling from the biotic assault, he nearly stumbled into the clutches of one of the shield-bearers. The bulky man behind the blue shield grinned as he swiped with his barrier, catching the Commander across the chest and sending him crashing to the floor. He drew his left hand back, bunching it up into a huge fist of thick metal fingers, and lunged forwards.

Shepard rolled to the side, the fist hitting the floor where his head had been with a loud clang, visibly denting the metal, crumpling one of the floor panels like a piece of cardboard.

As he came out of his roll, Shepard brought his gun up, firing before he could even see his enemy again. The shield-bearer still had his huge fist embedded in the floor, straining to pull it free as Shepard’s bullets ripped into his side. The man howled, a scarlet foam of blood and spittle spraying from his mouth as his lungs were punctured. Another pulls of the trigger caused the massive body to topple to the ground.

The Commander looked up at the remaining enemies. The brawling shield-bearers seemed to have adopted a more cautious stance, approaching less recklessly than their deceased fellow. The cloakers were nowhere to be seen.

Without a second thought, Shepard kneeled next to the dead brawler, tugging at his right gauntlet. The massive metal glove came free with little resistance, the only obstruction proving to be its connection to the power source on the dead man’s back. Shepard hurriedly donned the glove, winding the power wire around his arm. He then tugged the power supply from the dead man, fastening it on his back. The churning device felt hot through his suit, but he could stand it. This done, he swiftly plugged the wire into the generator, instantly feeling the gauntlet come to life. It tightened around his hand, conforming to his size. He flexed the fingers, feeling his knuckles crack as he tested the power of the gauntlet.

He just managed to get the shield to power up as the second shield-bearer charged in, the pair slamming their shields into each other. The twin barriers sparked and sizzled at the contact, each soldier pushing against the other.

Shepard grunted as he pushed against the other man, neither having the advantage over the other. As they continued to struggle, the Commander saw a telltale flicker out of the corner of his eye. He abruptly shifted, surprising his opponent as he moved to the side, causing the shield-bearer to stumble forwards, straight into the cloaker that had attempted to flank the Commander. The pair fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, struggling to get back up even as Shepard stepped forward and unloaded his clip into them, eliciting a spray of blood and gore as his gun chanted out its loud melody.

Breathing heavily, Shepard waved his rifle in the direction of the remaining four shield-bearers, causing them to step back warily. He turned his eyes to Miranda, still trapped inside the barrier. Seeing her Commander’s predicament, she had turned her attention to hacking the computer, trying to remove the barrier. Keeping his eye on the remaining enemies, he slowly backed up to the barrier in the centre of the room.

“Miranda!” Shepard shouted as he pulled the trigger on his gun to keep his enemies at bay. “Deal with the comm jammers! We need to get the rest of the team out of here.”

“On it!” She replied. She was silent for a few more seconds before a loud curse escaped from her lips. “Damn it!”

“What?” Shepard asked as he tackled a cloaker that had appeared beside him, the pair wrestling over his gun. With a roar, he swung his shield, catching the smaller man across the side and sending him tumbling to the floor with a wet crunch.

“My father’s initiated a block using one of the terminals against the wall. I can’t get through the last few levels of security.” She turned to look at him. “I need you to get to the terminal that’s interfering with my hacking attempts.”

“This is hardly the time for me to go hacking terminals!” Shepard shouted with exasperation as he focused his fire on one shield-bearer that was getting too close, tearing through the shield and punching a hole through the man’s skull, between the eyes.

“I just need you to make it stop working.” Miranda explained. “Hack it, unplug it, blow it to hell, I don’t care!”

“I’m on it.” Shepard grumbled. With that, he swapped the clip in his rifle and, yelling an unintelligible cry, dashed forwards, straight at the enemy. The shield-bearers, caught off-guard by the sudden change from defence to offence, had little chance to react before the Commander was in their midst, shield swinging from side to side as his rifle, held one-handed, traced a trail of bullets through their ranks.

With the element of surprise on his side, Shepard managed to break through the enemy ranks relatively unscathed, only having received a savage blow to his left shoulder that made his upper arm numb. He then looked to either side, seeking the terminal he needed. A moment’s search brought it to his attention, an otherwise ordinary terminal whose screen buzzed with countless lines of code. As the other terminals lay idle, this had to be the one being used by Lawson.

Shepard instantly lifted his rifle and fired, peppering the machine with bullets. The screen flickered and died as he tore through the inner workings of the terminal’s processor.

“That’s got it!” Miranda shouted triumphantly. “I’ll let you know if I need any more help.”

Shepard nodded as he turned to face his enemies again, only just catching the incoming fist of one of the melee fighters with his shield. The enormous metal fist hit his barrier so hard it actually forced the Commander back a step. Shepard responded by levelling his rifle at the man’s feet, sending a furious burst of fire into his booted feet. The shield-bearer howled as blood fountained from the minced chunks of meat that had been his feet, tumbling to the floor as he writhed in agony. Shepard quickly silenced his cries with another burst of fire from his rifle. As the man slumped to the deck, lifeless, a cloaker leapt onto the Commander’s back, her arms looping around his throat tightly. Shepard choked as his air supply was cut off, eyes bulging out from his head. He tried to reach the cloaker with his gloved hand, finding no purchase.

Desperately, Shepard did the only thing he could. With a grunt, he hurled himself backwards, dropping to the floor heavily on top of his attacker. The woman gasped as his full weight, made all the worse by the power generator, crushed her ribs. Her arms loosened, allowing Shepard to roll off her and shakily stand. He lifted his rifle, aimed at her head, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

The Commander frowned.

Click. Click.

He looked at the ammo readout, noting that it read zero. He reached down to his belt, only to find that he wasn’t wearing his utility belt with its ammo reserves. He’d used the last of his ammunition.

With a grunt of frustration, he cast his gun aside, dropped to his knees and, with a swift motion, twisted the cloaker’s neck, dropping her dead body to the floor.

This done, he turned, looking for a new weapon. His eyes settled upon the last shield-bearer he had dropped. The man’s left gauntlet was still intact. The Commander quickly pulled the glove off and placed it on his own hand, plugging it in equally as fast. Once again he flexed the fingers to test that it was operational, and turned to face his remaining enemies.

“Damn it, get in there and finish him!” Lawson almost screamed through the screen his face occupied. “He’s just one man! One! Send in the mechs, if you have to.”

“Damnit! I’m blocked again!” Miranda called. “Find the terminal, Commander! I’m nearly there.”

Shepard grunted with irritation, looking around the room for the terminal he needed. He finally spotted it, glowing brightly on the second floor. Before he could make a run for the nearest staircase lading up to that floor, the second-to last shield-bearer was on him. He raised his barrier in defence, catching the incoming fist. He then retaliated with a vicious jab of his own, catching the enemy soldier in the gut and causing him to whoof as his breath was expelled in one quick rush.

Not allowing his opponent to recover, Shepard sent another punch at the man’s face. His attack was halted, however, as his opponent’s hand shot up, grabbing his wrist in a tight grip. The pair strained against one another, muscles bunching and twisting as each fought for dominance.

Quicker than the Commander could think, a blade shot out from his gauntlet, the razor-sharp tip catching the shield-bearer’s eye. The man staggered back, clutching at his face. Shepard looked down at his newfound weapon with surprise before darting forward, jabbing with the blade. The guard, disoriented from the loss of his vision in one eye, could do nothing but flinch as Shepard’ weapon found its mark, skewering his heart. Shepard pulled back, letting the limp body fall to the floor.

The Commander inspected his new gauntlet, finding the precise movement that triggered the blade, and re-sheathed it. He then turned towards the stairway leading up to the terminal and broke into a run.

Just as his feet touched the first step, a blue cloud swirled around him, lifting the struggling Commander into the air and slamming him against the wall. He dropped to the ground, struggling to stand as another wave of dark energy swirled around him, slamming him into the wall a second time.

A cloaker had appeared just a few feet from him, her arms flickering with blue-white fire as she continued to hurl him around. She moved her hands, using her powers to lift Shepard into the air again.

Hovering just inches above the floor, Shepard strained against the biotic grip. His muscles burned as he pushed against the forces acting on his body. Just as he thought he would give out, he noticed the cloaker shudder, shaking her head as she struggled to maintain the grip. Redoubling his efforts, Shepard felt his arms slowly begin to inch forwards, his legs moving slowly as though they were trapped in tar.

The cloaker sighed as her biotic grip finally faded, releasing the Commander. He darted towards her before she could summon another attack, swinging his shield to strike her with a terrible blow that sent her tumbling across the floor, some of her limbs pointing in the wrong direction.

Shepard resumed his charge up the steps, reaching the upper level and finding the terminal. Robbed of his rifle, he resorted to pummelling the machine with his armoured fist, quickly reducing the machine to sparking parts. He was rewarded with a triumphant shout from Miranda as the obstruction to her progress was removed.

As his comrade continued her work, Shepard became aware of a mechanical whirring. He looked up, only to see two lumbering shapes lurch through the doors on the uppermost level. The massive YMIR mechs walked to the edge of the upper level and simply walked off, crashing into the floor with a thunderous roar. Shepard’s heart caught in his throat at the sight of the massive machines. One was bad enough, but two? And with no guns of his own?

But then he looked at Miranda, still trapped down on the first level, now with these things standing over her prison. He shuddered, steeling himself to engage.

A sudden sharp push at his back caught him off-balance. He stumbled forwards, unable to stop his progress over the edge. As he tumbled through the air, he caught a glimpse of a cloaker, the last one, standing where he had been, having just shoved him. He had no time to feel any surprise or anger at this before he thumped down on the floor, a sharp pain travelling through his back at the impact.

Before he had a chance to regain his breath, the last of the shield-bearers descended on him, laying into him with a pair of powerful punches to his chest and gut. Shepard wheezed at the attack, struggling for breath. The guard drew back his fist again, deploying his shining blade, and drove it down hard.

The Commander managed to twitch to the side, but not far enough. The blade pierced his upper arm, a flow of blood immediately coating both the Commander and his opponent’s faces.

Shepard roared in agony at the injury as the guard shifted, pulling the blade back to stab again. Shepard saw in the man’s eyes his own death, and his mind instantly went back to what mattered to him. His ship, his crew, his home… Jack.

Jack.

The instant her face popped into his head, an inspiration struck him. Just what would the tattooed biotic do in this situation? The answer struck him faster than he liked to admit, considering the nature of the idea.

With a jerk, the Commander’s knee darted up, firmly connecting with the shield-bearer’s groin. The guard grunted in surprise at the undignified improvisation, giving the Commander the second he needed to arch his back, dislodging his attacker. As the guard struggled to stand, Shepard lunged at him, swinging his uninjured arm to strike the man a vicious blow across the face.

The guard’s jaw visibly fractured under the attack, teeth and blood spraying everywhere. Shepard did not relent, following up with a powerful punch to the ribs, rewarded with a loud crunch. As the guard whimpered, Shepard finished off with a jab of his wrist-blade to the man’s chest, killing him swiftly.

Shepard panted as he pulled the weapon from his fallen foe’s chest, still pained from his fall. He had no time to compose himself, however, as a loud thudding noise behind him alerted him to the presence of one of the heavy mechs. He spun around, bringing his shield to bear just in time to deflect the incoming rocket. His shoulder screamed in agony as the impact of the projectile travelled from his wrist to his wound.

“Look out!” Miranda shouted in warning.

“Yeah, working on it!” Shepard snapped back.

The Commander darted to the side, looking for a place to take cover. Unfortunately, the control centre offered no such refuge. Grunting irritably, he instead changed direction, making sure to keep his shield up. At one point his arm refused to stay still, the injury making the limb wobble, and he had to grab his wrist with his free hand to hold his barrier up.

Realising that at range the mech would tear him apart, Shepard instead darted in close. The YMIR stuttered as it tried to keep track of him, its bulky limbs unable to track him once he stepped up to within three feet of the machine. As the mech tried to swing a huge arm at him in a crude attempt to knock him off his feet, Shepard dropped to the ground, activating his wrist-blade. He slashed at the robot’s ankles, managing to sever a couple of key hydraulic pipes. The mech groaned in protest as its legs refused to hold it up, slowly beginning to topple to the ground. The Commander scooted out from under it before the YMIR crashed down on its face, taking his blade and driving it through the thick wire at the nape of its neck, cutting all power to its motor functions. The mass of machinery slumped, lifeless.

Shepard turned to find the second mech, unnerved by the sudden silence. A thing that big couldn’t just vanish, so where was it?

A tremendous roar alerted Shepard to the mech’s position just a moment too late. The rocket struck his shield, knocking the thing to the side. The Commander’s entire arm went numb, his hand going limp in his glove. The shield flickered and died, the gauntlet slipping from his dead fingers, leaving him defenceless as the mech, leaning out from behind the processor tower, prepared to fire another

As the Commander tensed, knowing full well that he’d never manage to get away from the impending attack, the mech glowed blue, shuddering as it lifted into the air. Shepard’s jaw dropped as the robot floated higher and higher, rising to about fifteen feet off the ground. Then, just as suddenly as its ascent had started, it slammed into the floor, its limbs popping off from the force of the impact.

Miranda stepped around the tower, her clenched fist still covered in rippling blue fire. It was only then that Shepard noticed that the tower, which he had been pretty much staring at, was no longer wreathed in the energies of the barrier. The ex Cerberus operative turned a steely gaze to the Commander, her features softening when she noticed his injury.

“Shepard!” she shouted, hurrying over to kneel next to him. She carefully pulled the torn fabric of his sleeve apart, inspecting the wound. The Commander winced as her insistent fingers probed at his bleeding flesh.

“Looks fairly superficial.” She narrated as she inspected him. “Missed all the major veins and arteries, no significant damage to the muscle.” She reached down to her belt, pulling an application of medi-gel from a pouch. She spread the tacky substance over the wound, sealing it. “There we go. It’s gonna hurt like a ****, but at least you won’t bleed out.”

“Thanks.” Shepard and Miranda shared a smile.

The Commander’s smile swiftly faded as a familiar flicker appeared behind Miranda. The last remaining cloaker raised a hand, her form shimmering with biotic fire as she summoned a cluster of dark energy around her clenched fist to land a killing blow to the back of her head.

“Look out!” Shepard sprang into action, grabbing Miranda by the shoulder and shoving her to the side. At the same time, his left hand came up, clenching into the fist that deployed his wrist-blade. As the cloaker plunged her fist down to strike at Miranda, Shepard’s gauntleted hand came up to strike her in the belly.

The cloaker’s eyes widened in shock, her face twisting into a rictus of confusion as she froze, slowly tilting her head to look at the blade skewering her gut. Just as slowly, she slid to the side, gravity freeing her from the Commander’s blade.

Miranda rolled into a sitting position from where she had landed on the floor, looking at the dead woman with shock. She turned to look at Shepard.

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Yeah, well.” Shepard grunted as he tried to stand up. She stepped up to help him to his feet. “Don’t thank me yet.” He winced. It felt like his entire body was bruised. He badly needed a hot shower and his bed. “We’ve still got to get out of here.”

“Well, we’ve dealt with the shields and the jammers.” Miranda said. “At least the rest of the squad can get the hell out of here now.”

“No! Damn it!” Lawson’s furious expression boomed out from his display. “Somebody get down there and stop them! I want everyone closing on their position!”

“Miranda, would you mind telling you father where to shove it?” Shepard asked.

“Gladly.” Miranda replied, lifting her SMG and aiming at her father’s face on the screen. A quick burst of the gun shattered the display, eliminating Lawson’s image. The duo smiled at one another before turning to figure out a way out of the control room.

~o~0~o~

[fainmaca]

~o~0~o~

~REVENANT~

The skycar shuddered as the old mercenary in the back worked the guns, his keen eye finding targets in the brightening early-morning sky. The horizon had turned a mild navy blue, heralding the approaching dawn.
Two enemy gunships had descended on their tail, giving the skycar’s shields a run for their money as two streams of bullets converged on the vehicle despite the Revenant’s best efforts.

The Collector yanked on the controls, sending the skycar into a wild spin, eliciting a howl from Zaeed as his aim was thrown off just as he fired the car’s rocket launcher, his attack going wide.

The skycar’s comm system crackled, momentarily startling the insectile alien.

“This is Commander Shepard. Extraction team, do you read me?”

“Shepard, this is the Revenant. I read you loud and clear.” The Collector felt a flare of relief to finally hear something from inside the mansion.

“This is Kaidan, I read you, Commander.” The shuttle’s comm frequency carried the former Alliance soldier’s voice.

“We’ve retrieved the data and rescued Miranda. All defences have been disabled. You’ve got a clear run on the mansion.” The Commander explained. “Garrus is leading the rest of the squad on the ground. Now they’ve got non-combatants with them that need extraction. I need you to move in right now and get them the hell out of there.”

“Roger that, Shepard.” Kaidan responded promptly. “Where are you?”

“I’m still inside with Miranda. We’re making our way to the surface, and will contact you when we’re ready for extraction.” Shepard said briskly. “Right now your priority is Garrus’ squad. Get those noncoms out of here ASAP.”

“Acknowledged.” The Revenant replied. He cut the channel, turning the skycar into a swerve that took him across the estate’s perimeter. Behind him, Zaeed spared a glance from his gunnery display.

“That the big man?” The old mercenary asked casually.

“Yes. We’re moving in.” The Revenant replied, working the controls deftly to swoop low over the estate’s ornamental lake, causing a V-shaped ripple across its surface. As the gunships dipped to follow, Zaeed used the skycar’s chaingun to pummel the shields of the first one, tearing through the cockpit. With it’s pilot dead, the gunship spun through the air, crashing into the lake with a mighty splash. Moments after in vanished below the surface, a towering fountain of water spouted up into the air, displaced by the vehicle’s detonation. Through this geyser flew the second gunship, water cascading off its glittering barriers.

The Revenant winced as the remaining enemy craft continued to press its attack, the skycar’s shield power slowly dropping. With a cautioning beep, the power levels descended past ten per cent.

“We need to lose this guy.” The alien said with a strained voice as he wove his way across the grounds, wheeling around clumps of trees and over large bushes. The landscape whipped by the viewports in a blur, the Collector’s lightning fast reflexes tested to their limits by the speed they were travelling at.

“Workin’ on it.” Zaeed bit back through clenched teeth. The bounty hunter’s undamaged eye narrowed as he watched his display, waiting for the targeting reticule to centre on their pursuer.

At last, with a triumphant shout, he loosed one of his few remaining rockets, sending the blazing projectile arrowing back at the gunship. The enemy craft, in response, began to climb, trying to dodge out of the way. All this did was expose more of the vehicle to the incoming fire. The rocket struck the gunship dead centre on its underside, punching clean through the armour and tearing the craft’s innards apart in the ensuing explosion. The gunship lurched before dropping out of the sky like a stone, the ensuing explosion of its fiery end setting a large swathe of the grounds alight.

“A-halright!” Zaeed crowed. “That’s how we do things out in the Terminus, you son of a ****!”

The Revenant allowed himself a feeling of relief as he shifted behind the skycar’s controls. He keyed up his comm again, activating his short-range transmitter and broadcasting on all frequencies used by the squad.

“The is the Revenant calling any members of the Normandy crew out there. Do you copy?”

“Jacob here.” The harried voice of the young soldier replied almost immediately.

“What’s your position, Taylor?” The Revenant demanded.

“We’re pinned down by one of the AA towers along the southern perimeter. I got Feron and Samara with me. We’re holding them back, but an exit strategy sometime soon would be appreciated.”

“Roger that. We can be there in two minutes.” The Revenant said, tapping his console to pull up a tracking programme to home in on Jacob’s signal. “Where’s the rest of the squad?”

“Garrus has got himself holed up on top of that hill close to the lake. He’s got Delexia, Elanie, and Jack with him, along with the noncoms. Kasumi and the Prof were running about taking out some of the towers around here, but last I heard they were falling back to rejoin Garrus.”

“We’ll come get you.” The Revenant decided. “Kaidan can take the shuttle to get the others. They’ll need the extra space for the noncoms.”

“Roger that. Don’t keep us waiting. Taylor out.”

“Hey, Zaeed!” The Collector called back over his shoulder. “Keep your trigger finger ready. We’re going to go bust Taylor out of the mess he’s got himself into.”

“Sounds like fun.” The mercenary chuckled.

“Kaidan, this is the Revenant.” The alien continued, switching frequencies. “We’re going to go collect Taylor. Garrus has holed up on top of the large hill, along with the noncoms and the rest of the squad.”

“Understood.” Kaidan responded quickly. “We’re on our way.”

The Revenant closed the channel, turning the skycar into a sharp turn that made the G-forces inside tug at both occupants insistently. He gunned the drive, sending the craft surging forwards, aiming straight for the AA turret that his tracking programme indicated Jacob was at.

Moments later, the turret grew large in the forward viewport. It spun around, tracking them, but held its fire. Obviously an example of the squad going to work on the estate’s defences. The occasional flash of gunfire at the turret’s base betrayed the presence of Jacob’s group, drawing the Revenant’s gaze.

The trio had bunkered down at the turret’s base, trading fire with a large group of guards. The Collector noted that a heavy mech marched amid the guards, laying down some powerful fire that kept Jacob and his comrades in hiding.

“Got a heavy mech down there. Deal with it, old man.”

Zaeed nodded silently, swivelling the main gun to aim down at the guards. The chaingun chattered loudly as it stitched a trail of holes in the soft soil, spewing up gouts of dirt that swiftly approached the YMIR. Detecting the attack, the mech had time to turn and face the incoming fire before bullets peppered its body, one final shot taking its head clean off. The remnants of the machine beeped loudly before detonating, decimating the guard ranks.

“Yeah!” The bounty hunter crowed as the Revenant wheeled around, using the forward guns to finish off what remained of the guards.

The skycar swung about, drifting down to the ground near the base of the tower, door opening even as it moved. On the ground, Jacob kept his gun aimed in the direction that the attacking force had come from, covering Samara as she darted across the open space between their momentary refuge and the skycar. The still-barefoot Asari darted over the open ground, leaping through the door. Feron was close behind, the Drell scurrying towards safety as fast as he could. Finally, Jacob darted from cover, clambering into the skycar. Once they were all aboard, the Revenant sent a surge of power through the craft’s drive core, sending them arrowing into the rapidly lightening dawn sky.

~o~0~o~

~SHEPARD~

The Commander raced through the corridors, Miranda at his side. They were making good progress towards the upper levels, having encountered only a few patrols of guards, Miranda’s knowledge of the layout of the building allowing them to take a few less-travelled passages to avoid the main bulk of the enemy force. Instead of taking the obvious path and heading for one of the exits that led directly to the surface, Miranda had suggested that they move through the mansion itself, hopefully catching Lawson off-guard in his efforts to hunt them down, and the plan seemed to be working. Well, they hadn’t been overwhelmed by a platoon of guards at least.

Shepard still wore the powered glove on his left hand, using it to tackle the most resilient of enemies they faced. He had also acquired a pistol from one of the guards they had torn through, using that to keep the larger packs of enemies at bay.

Miranda led him up a small staircase, the steps beneath their feet turning from stark metal to soft carpet in an abrupt fashion, a clear boundary between living space and work space. She slowed, cautiously opening the door at the top of the stairs and glancing out.

“All clear.” She whispered. Shepard nodded, slipping past her to take the lead in their cautious progress through the inhabited portions of the mansion.

They stepped out into a corridor that Shepard found familiar. At the far end, the door to Lawson’s private elevator had jammed open, bullet holes around the edge betraying the damage it had taken. Shepard walked over and peered through the doors.

The elevator sat in the shaft above, obviously dormant at the moment. Not that it did him much good. Without the skills of an experienced hacker like Kasumi, summoning the elevator would be difficult at best, a betrayal of their position at worst. As his eyes took in the service ladder at the back of the shaft and the hatch on the bottom of the elevator, an idea began to form in his mind.

“Hey Mir-“ He began, turning to look for his colleague, pausing when he spotted her.

The raven-haired woman was standing in front of an innocuous wooden door some way down the hall, one hand brushing the wood while she stared at it with a mesmerised glaze to her eyes. She appeared to be breathing deeply, a little unnerved by whatever lay beyond that door. The Commander strode over to stand next to her.

“This was my room.” She muttered by way of explanation. “I… If you don’t mind, Commander, I’d like to take a look inside.”

“After all this time, I highly doubt it’s the way you left it, Miranda.” Shepard cautioned.

“I know, but I’m hoping that something will still be here that I left behind.”

Shepard nodded understandingly. Taking a deep breath to steady her uneasy nerves, she pushed the door open.

Beyond lay a simple room. The floor was carpeted in a rich navy. A single bed was tucked in the corner, neatly made, while a desk occupied the far wall, a terminal built into it. Several bookshelves occupied the third wall, next to the door, while a wide window showed a panorama of the streets of Milgrom City, beyond the large gate and towering wall that sealed the estate off from the rest of the planet. As Miranda began to look for something under the bed, Shepard stepped up to the window, looking out at the grounds below.

A large armoured vehicle squatted in front of the main gate, discouraging anyone from leaving. A few partygoers staggered around near the front door, obviously inebriated. The guards subtly ushered them back into the main hall. Obviously Lawson had commanded that no one leave until the situation was under control.

Shepard turned as a scraping sound echoed from behind him, seeing Miranda tugging at the bed. He moved over to help her, using his augmented strength to haul the bed away from the wall. Behind it, Miranda pushed at a completely innocent wall panel, causing it to pop back and slide to the side. She reached in, pulling out a small box. As she rifled through its contents, a quiet smile on her face, Shepard turned to inspect the rest of the room.

He stepped over to the bookshelves, looking at the titles of the ink-and-paper tomes stored there.

“Tolstoy, Freud, Dostoyevsky, all pretty heavy stuff.” He muttered.

“Father had me read every last one of them.” Miranda explained. “He figured that it would be good for me to understand ‘The Human Condition’ so that I could find a way to rise above it.”

“This is pretty intense training for a child to go through.”

“I was in my late teens before I ran away, Shepard. Its not like he had me reading War and Peace when I was five. But he did push pretty hard to make me be better than I was.”

“Has much changed since you left?”

“Not really. The room’s almost exactly how I left it. When I ran away with Oriana, there wasn’t exactly much time to pack, not that I had much to take with me.”

The Commander strolled over to stand at her shoulder as Miranda sat on the bed, looking through the box. She pulled out a holo of a young girl, not much more than fifteen at the time, cradling a tiny baby. The features were softer, rounder, not having been shaped by the trials of adulthood yet, but the teenager was undoubtedly Miranda.

“Is that Oriana?” He asked.

“Yes. Father didn’t allow us much time to just be by ourselves, but every once in a while I got the chance to play with her. One of the minders father hired to watch us took these pictures. She was always nice to us, giving us treats and being more of a parent to us than anyone else. I used to view her as my big sister.” She smiled briefly before the expression vanished, her tone flat. “Father was not pleased. He said that she was coddling us with these frivolous things. He fired her, made sure she never got another job after that. I haven’t seen her since. This was the only gift from her that father didn’t find and dispose of.”

She rifled through the rest of the contents of the box, a small necklace that she explained had been a gift from her old friend Niket, a pressed flower that she claimed had come from the garden. She smiled when recollecting her father’s rage upon seeing one of his prized specimens defaced. After a few seconds, she separated out a few of these items and put them in pouches on her belt. This done, she stowed the box away again, sliding the bed back over the loose panel. She turned a firm glance to the Commander.

“I’m ready to get out of here now, Shepard.” Her tone was steely.

“Me too.” Shepard said. He waved a hand at the window and the mass of guards watching the front gate. “We’ll never get out the front way. There’s too many watching the front gate. But I’ve got an idea.”

Miranda looked at him curiously as a cunning grin crossed his face.

~o~0~o~

“This is not going to work.” Miranda muttered, her breath coming in short pants as she hauled herself up hand-over-hand.

Up above her, Shepard glanced back down the elevator shaft.

“Why not?”

“Because the moment you set foot in my father’s office again, you’ll trigger so many alarms that we’ll probably alert Citadel Security to our presence.”

“And? We just have to hold the enemy off long enough for one of the vehicles to pick us up. Your father will still be somewhere in the sub-levels, trying to catch us, so I reckon we’ve got some time before his lackeys come to crash the party.”

“Commander, your entire arsenal consists of one stolen pistol and that pen knife you’ve got fastened to your wrist. I’ve got my gun and my biotics. How is that meant to hold off a private army for more than ten seconds?”

“We’ll find a way. We’ve done it before.”

“Just what is it with you and finding impossible odds in everything you do?”

“You know what they say: you can’t spell impossible without possible.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” She exclaimed.

“Doesn’t have to.” Shepard grunted as he worked at the hatch in the base of the elevator above his head. “We’re almost… there!” He leaned out of the way as the hatch swung open with a clang. “Come on.”

The pair clambered into the lift, opening its doors to reveal Lawson’s office in all its opulence. All signs of a gunfight remained, but someone had cleared away the bodies at least, leaving scratches from ricocheting bullets and discoloured bloodstains as the only evidence of Shepard’s last visit there.

The moment the Commander’s foot passed over the elevator door’s threshold, a loud alarm blared out.

“Warning. Intruder Alert.” A VI’s soft voice intoned flatly.

Realising their time was short, Shepard and Miranda ascended the stairs leading up to Lawson’s office, under the massive window looking out over the estate beyond. The night sky was rapidly lightening, the first few hints of a sunrise peeking over the horizon.

“Its morning already?” Shepard asked in surprise.

“The days and nights are a little shorter here than on Earth, Shepard.” Miranda explained, drawing her SMG. “Make the call, Commander. We don’t have much time.”

The Commander nodded, tapping his commlink to transmit.

“This is Commander Shepard. Extraction team, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Shepard.” Kaidan’s voice sounded out clearly. “We’re just about to pick up Garrus and those extra passengers you mentioned.”

“Good job. Where’s the Revenant?”

“Right here, Commander. We’ve got Jacob, Samara and Feron on board.” The Collector answered promptly. “Do you need us to come get you?”

“Affirmative. I’ve got Miranda with me. We’re in Lawson’s office. Top floor, look for the biggest window. Won’t be long now before we’ve got a whole lot of guards coming down on our asses, so a quick exit would be preferable.”

“Roger that.” The Alien replied. “On our way.”

As Shepard closed the channel, Miranda lifted her SMG and fired off a burst, emptying her current clip. The massive window shattered under the attack, razor-sharp slivers of glass showering down inside and outside the office. A cool breeze instantly began to drift through the room, the first fresh air Shepard had tasted in what felt like an eternity. Beside him, Miranda closed her eyes and sniffed deeply.

They had not time to enjoy the moment, however, as the rumble of grinding gears reached their ears. The elevator, upon detecting the intrusion, had descended down the shaft, and was now returning. As the groaning noise heralded its return, Shepard took up a position behind the nearest thing that offered cover from the door below, the bar in Lawson’s office. Miranda found a spot behind her father’s desk, her forearms flickering blue as she sighted down on the door with her SMG.

The elevator doors slid open, unleashing a cluster of shield-bearers into the office, walking cautiously behind their glimmering blue barriers. Behind them, a squad of guards toting assault rifles, along with a pair of cloakers, poured out, using the cover of the front rank to hide from the Commander and Miranda’s weapons.

Shepard breathed slowly, singling out one of the shield-bearers who held his shield a little too low. He twitched his finger on the trigger, allowing his hand to jump back with the rifle as the single shot cracked out. The shield-bearer lurched, a hole in the centre of his brow, leaving a gap in the front line that Miranda was quick to exploit. She held out a glowing hand, lifting the fresh corpse and hurling it into his neighbour, knocking the second foe to the ground, a quick burst from her SMG finishing him off.

The enemy riflemen returned fire, aiming over their comrades’ heads as they sent a blistering round of bullets arrowing at the besieged pair. Shepard ducked down as splinters of black marble fountained up from the bar’s surface, seeing Miranda do the same behind the desk.

Peering around the corner of the bar, Shepard noted that the shield-bearers were advancing up the stairs while the riflemen provided the covering fire. Realising that they would soon be overwhelmed, Shepard aimed his gun around the corner, firing blindly at the distant guards. He was rewarded with a pained cry from one of the enemy and a slight reduction in the rate of fire, but the majority of his shots went wide.

Miranda, her keen tactical mind reaching the same conclusion as Shepard’s, focused instead on her surroundings. Her entire body flickered a ghostly hue, her arm darting out before her in a sudden gesture. One of the couches shuddered, slowly lifting into the air. Shepard watched in surprise as the couch drifted across the room, reaching the top of one of the staircases leading up to the main office, where she let it go. With a rumble, the couch dropped down the stairs, catching the first shield-bearer by surprise. The first guard was thrown clear off the stairs, the couch tumbling past him and catching his fellows coming up behind him. In moments, the shield-bearers ascending on that side had been knocked to the floor, striking the marble tiles with sickening thumps and crunches, leaving a number of them rolling on the floor nursing broken limbs, leaving others not moving at all.

The Commander grinned at this new turn of events, snapping the spent thermal clip from his pistol and replacing it with a fresh one. He glanced over to the other side as the other half of the shield-bearer force reached the top of the second staircase. He stood to take aim at them, dropping back down into cover as the riflemen, having moved into a better position to press their attack, renewed their fire on his position. Cursing, Shepard moved to the other end of the bar, leaning out and snapping off a few precise shots that downed an enemy each.

Behind the desk, Miranda focused her attention on the shield-bearers. She centred her next biotic attack on the first man’s shield, crushing it with a thought, following the attack up with a burst of fire from her SMG. The guard dropped to his knees, blood pouring from the bullet wounds in his chest.

Shepard pulled back into his cover, leaning against the side of the bar, feeling every judder of the structure as enemy bullets pounded into the opposite side. He looked over to his comrade, seeing Miranda hurling the shield-bearers around like toys with her biotics. One was lifted off the ground by his shield, the glowing barrier enclosed in a biotic bubble, before a quick flick of the ex Cerberus operative’s wrist sent him soaring out the destroyed window with a startled cry.

Shepard’s pulse quickened as he noticed a shimmer moving through the air, the barely distinguishable form of one of the cloakers sneaking up behind Miranda. He reacted instantly, bringing his pistol up. He pulled on the trigger, only to be rewarded with a hollow click. He looked at the pistol in annoyance for a moment before tossing it aside, looking for something to use.

His eyes settled upon a bottle of red liquid stored on the bar. Without a second thought, his fingers curled around it, lifting it off the bar and twisting to look back at where he saw the cloaker. He focused on the telltale flicker in the air, bringing his fist back and swinging it forward in a single fluid motion.

The bottle winged through the air, tracing a shining scarlet arc that ended with a tinkling crash, a burst of red alcohol and glittering glass fragments. The cloaker let out a startled cry as his camouflage effect failed, shorted out by the bottle’s contents. Miranda, hearing the cloaker so close behind her, whirled around, a blue-white aura flaring around her. The cloaker, still recovering from the disorientation of the bottle hitting his head, had no chance to react before she struck him square in the chest, flinging him back through the shattered window.

Panting, Miranda turned to look at the Commander, nodding in thanks. She slid back behind the desk as the last of the riflemen opened fire on her, her defences flickering from a few close calls.

Shepard, meanwhile, looked back to his new-found arsenal, mind buzzing with ideas. He took another bottle of noxious green liquid off the bar, unscrewing the stopper slowly. He clenched his fist, activating the wrist-blade, using the knife to cut a strip of fabric from the hem of his jacket. He slid the cloth into the bottle, making sure it got a good dousing, before screwing the top back on, making sure to leave about an inch of fabric sticking out of the top. He then held the wet fabric up to his omnitool, making the device spark. With a whoosh, the fabric caught, a bright flame swiftly licking around the top of the bottle.

He turned, peeking over the top of the bar, judging the distance, before drawing his arm back and flinging the makeshift grenade over the bar.

It soared across the room, arcing down to where the riflemen had bunkered down. Shepard heard the crash as the bottle struck the marble tiles amid the enemy, the whoosh of the rest of the liquid igniting and the cries of the guards as they were caught in the inferno. The Commander jumped up at this, vaulting the bar and running for the edge of the upper floor. He placed a hand on the railing and launched himself over the edge.

He struck the lower floor with a jolt, dropping into a roll to cushion his landing. He tumbled to his feet, darting over to where the guards flailed around, flames licking at their bodies. The wrist-blade flashed through the air, cutting through the first two guards like a hot knife through butter. The third one was too panicked by the flames to notice the Commander standing before him, and died with a startled cry strangled in his throat as the blade pierced his gut.

The last guard had obviously been furthest away from the molotov cocktail when it had hit, only having to pat out a handful of flames licking up his sleeve. He raised his rifle to fire at the Commander, managing to pop off a few shots before the Commander swatted his gun aside, slamming his right fist into the surprised man’s face. A second jab to the chest with the wrist-blade finished him off, Shepard’s right hand darting down to grab the guard’s rifle before it dropped to the floor.

Shepard spun, the newly acquired gun clutched tightly in his hands, the power gauntlet leaving grooves in the gun’s stock. He looked back up to the upper level just in time to see Miranda facing off against the last shield-bearer. She bobbed to and fro as the burly guard lunged forwards with his blade, seeking to skewer her. One shapely leg shot out, catching the guard across the chest and causing him to stagger back. Without allowing the guard to recover, she pressed forwards with a biotically enhanced punch. The guard staggered back, catching himself on the railing that separated the upper floor from the lower portion of the office. He flailed his arms for a moment, struggling to keep his balance as his upper half dangled over the railing. Eventually, gravity had its way, the guard’s body tumbling down to land on the marble tiles with a meaty thump.

Shepard and Miranda looked at one another across the width of the office, breathing heavily from the exertion of the battle.

With a sudden jolt, Shepard was knocked to the floor by a biotic blast. His newly acquired gun clattered across the floor, stars wheeling in his vision as his brow connected with the floor. The last cloaker leaned down, lifting him up by the collar of his suit. A quick tug unplugged the power gauntlet from the generator on his back, causing the wrist-blade to retract and the glove to loosen, slipping from his fingers.

“Shepard!” Miranda cried out in concern.

“You just can’t get the staff these days.” Victor Lawson’s voice echoed around the office.

Shepard and Miranda both turned their heads to see the elevator doors open once more. Flanked by two guards in armour that looked more like the little brother of a YMIR mech than a battlesuit, the billionaire tycoon strode out into the office with a smug grin on his face. Lawson still wore the expensive suit he had been wearing during the party, although he looked quite unkempt after the long night. He clutched a pistol in one hand, finger on the trigger.

“You have nowhere else to run, Miranda. Its time for you to go back where you belong. Surrender to my two AESIR and you will be led down to the lab without further incident.”

“And you’ll let the Commander go?” Miranda asked, although her voice made it clear she didn’t hold out any hope of that happening.

“Not a chance.” Victor chuckled. “He’ll only try to free you again and again. Far less messy to just be done with it and kill him right now.” He lifted his pistol, aiming at Shepard’s temple. He made ready to pull the trigger, muscles in his finger rippling as he pulled it back.

“No!” Miranda cried out, a biotic flicker wafting over her hand.

Victor’s arm glimmered with dark energy. The blue flames intensified, constricting around his arm. He screeched as there was a wet snap and his forearm broke in the middle, his fingers going limp and releasing the gun.

With this distraction, Shepard jerked his arm back, his elbow finding the shocked cloaker’s face. There was a sickening crunch as the biotic’s nose broke. The Commander found himself being dropped to the floor, landing on all fours. He looked about for his weapons, eyes quickly finding the power gauntlet. He swiftly slipped it on, plugging the power cord into the generator on his back.

“Argh! Don’t just stand there, get them!” Victor shouted, retreating behind his ‘AESIR’ troops. Presumably that was the name he used to designate the battle-suits they wore. It was fitting, as the technology looked to have been based upon the same tech found in LOKI, YMIR and FENRIS mechs.

The lumbering, armoured soldiers stomped forwards, raising their arms. One armoured fist bore a much larger blade than the one on the Commander’s gauntlet, while the other housed a chain gun like the ones in a YMIR’s arms.

Behind them, Lawson retreated towards the elevator. Refusing to allow the tycoon to escape, Shepard looked about hurriedly, his eyes finally finding his dropped rifle. He lunged for the weapon, scooping it up and spinning around to fire at the retreating Lawson. A quick burst from the rifle’s muzzle caught the controls for the elevator, trapping Miranda’s father with them.

He had no time to celebrate this, however, as the AESIRs moved in close. One lunged with his blade, the tip of the weapon slashing across his chest, ripping his suit and scoring a scarlet line across his flesh. The second moved in to attack, lifting his arm to swing at the Commander. The motion was stopped, however, as the blade glowed with biotic witchfire, the unstable dark energy twisting the weapon, leaving it bent at a right angle.

Miranda raced down the stairs, her SMG chattering as she peppered the second AESIR with several bursts of fire. The armoured soldier staggered back from the attack, looking down at his ruined blade with irritation. He lifted his other arm, bringing the chain gun to bear on her. Miranda threw up a biotic barrier as the stream of bullets streaked towards her, easily deflecting the initial barrage while she moved to take cover on the far side of the staircase.

Shepard, meanwhile, focused his attention on the first AESIR. He dodged out of the way of another swing of his enemy’s weapon, countering with a jab of his own wrist-blade. The two weapons clanged against one another, sparks flying as the Commander’s muscles strained against the power of the mechanised battlesuit. With a jolt, the pair disengaged, drawing back a half pace. The AESIR tried to bring its gun to bear, the multiple gun barrels spinning as a loud whine erupted from within.

A blast of bullets raced past Shepard’s ear, deafening him. He brought his gauntleted fist around to grab the gun, holding it away from his face. He grunted as he twisted, tugging on the gun with all the strength his armoured hand could muster. The metal groaned for a second before the gun’s connection to the suit slowly parted. The gun ripped free, the Commander tossing it to the side.

On the opposite side of the office, Miranda sent a Warp blast racing towards the second AESIR. The rippling orb of dark energy struck the armoured soldier square in the chest, unstable energies tearing at the armour and the delicate machinery inside. With a pop, one of the power cords running up the side of the torso, underneath the arm, began to spark wildly, breaking loose of its connections. The AESIR suit began to beep insistently, and the soldier locked inside it began to look about in panic.

With a crump, the suit burst into flames, immolating the guard trapped within. His screams were sharply cut off as more parts of the suit exploded. Finally, the suit collapsed to the floor, still burning. A charred, blackened face was visible through the faceplate of the damaged machine.

Shepard was only marginally aware of this, more focused on dealing with his own foe. The pair slashed at one another with their blades, occasionally landing a hit on one another. Shepard ached from the multiple cuts he had received to his chest and sides, and one long gash along his forearm throbbed painfully.

With a final lunge, Shepard struck the AESIR across the faceplate, knocking him back a few paces. With this additional room, Shepard brought his rifle up, pulling on the trigger to unleash a long burst of fire. The bullets tore through the AESIR’s armour, a few of them finding their mark in the soldier contained within. The unfortunate guard groaned in pain as blood seeped through the holes in the battlesuit, stumbling as he struggled on through the haze of agony that clouded his vision. Shepard quickly stepped forward, lunging with his wrist-blade again. Too disoriented from his injuries, the guard had no chance to deflect the attack. The Commander’s blade pierced the torso of the AESIR, killing the guard in an instant.

As the last AESIR dropped to the floor, Shepard turned to look for Victor Lawson. He stepped over the prone cloaker, who was still clutching at his broken face, whimpering in agony, and looked about cautiously for Miranda’s father.

His gaze travelled up to the upper level of the office, looking to the tycoon’s desk. Miranda and Victor stood there, facing one another with anger in their stance. Seeing the confrontation, Shepard swiftly climbed the stairs, coming up behind Miranda.

Victor clutched at his broken arm, partially doubled over with pain. The tycoon’s face was etched with agony, worn by the stress of the night. He still remained calm, even when faced with such a threat as the furious beauty that was his own creation.

“So, this is how it ends?” Victor asked with a weary sigh.

“You leave me no choice.” Miranda said firmly, her voice surprisingly neutral for the emotions that must have been flowing through her. “No matter what I do, you’re always there, hanging over me. Every victory, every failure. This is the only way I’ll be free of you. The only way my sister, my children, will be safe.”

A hoarse cackle sounded throughout the office, echoing back and forth from the walls.

“You’ll never be rid of me, child. You’re my creation! The very building blocks used to create you bear my signature. Your every action belongs to me. Every victory of yours only further increases my success. Your strength is not your own, it’s the fruits of my labour!”

Miranda’s face twisted in fury, raw and uncontrolled. Shepard had never seen her this unrestrained, allowing so much of what went on behind those ice-blue eyes to gleam through. She took a shuddering breath, her gun held rock-steady as she aimed it between his haughty eyes.

“Then you must be pretty proud right now. You’ve created something strong enough to kill you.” Her finger tightened on the trigger as Victor continued to smile that arrogant grin.

“Miranda, no!” Shepard objected, placing himself between her and her father. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do, Commander!” She protested. “Don’t you get it? We’ll never be free from him. He has to die!”

“If you kill him, you’ll only be giving him one final victory over you. You’ll have let him turn you into something less than Human.”

“I-“

“Miranda, you’ve got to let it go.” Shepard reasoned earnestly. “He can’t hide from us. If he tries anything, he’ll have to deal with you, me, our crew and not forgetting the Shadow Broker.”

“You’re-“ Miranda’s eyes glittered with held-back tears. “You’re right. I’m better than him.”

“So prove it.” Shepard said softly. He lifted a hand to squeeze her shoulder. “Put the gun down.”

She sighed, slowly lowering the SMG. A loud chuckle from behind the Commander made him turn around.

“Heh-heh! That’s right. Do as your precious Commander tells you.” Victor sneered. “So much for your independence. You just swapped my authority for that of the Illusive Man. And now you’ve betrayed that allegiance in favour of this alien sympathiser.”

Shepard pulled his left fist back, striking the arrogant man across the face so hard that he tumbled backwards, slumping to the floor unconscious. Blood streamed from a broken nose and his jaw hung slackly, knocked loose of its joints. When the tycoon awoke, he would find his face horribly disfigured, the damage so severe that it was unlikely any amount of reconstructive surgery would put it back the way it was. He would carry the souvenirs of this meeting for the rest of his life.

Feeling a little guilty, Shepard looked at his gauntleted fist with surprise. He’d forgotten how much of a difference the glove made to his strength.

“Is that the only reason you stopped me? So that you could finish him off yourself?” Miranda’s tone was accusatory.

“I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.” Shepard said apologetically. “But no one speaks to my crew like that.”

“… Thank you.” She said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Commander Shepard, do you copy?” Shepard’s commlink suddenly crackled. The Revenant’s voice sounded out urgently. “Come in, Commander!”

“I’m here.” Shepard answered. “What’s your position?”

“We’re just pulling up.”

As the Collector responded, the skycar hove into view outside the shattered window. The craft bore a good few scratches, evidence of a recent dogfight. As it paused in mid air, hovering right outside the window, the hatch popped open, revealing Jacob’s concerned features.

“Commander! Come on!” He urged.

Shepard and Miranda hurried across the upper floor of the office, the Commander waiting for his comrade to clamber in first before following close behind her. The hatch closed after they had boarded, and the skycar rushed off into the sky. Back in Lawson’s office, Miranda’s father lay prone on the floor, a rapidly diminishing remnant of Miranda’s past.

~o~0~o~

~GRUNT~

The shuttle raced through the sky above the estate’s grounds, arrowing towards the hill that Garrus and his team waited upon.

Grunt sat on one of the seats in the passenger compartment, restless. The mission had taken far too long for the Krogan, and he’d had far too few enemies to aim a gun at. His blood was beginning to boil, and he had no outlet.

“Hang tight.” Kaidan called back from the cockpit. “We’re almost at the LZ.”

Finally. Grunt’s mind whispered with excitement. His fingers curled around the barrel and stock of his Claymore.

With a sweeping motion, the shuttle roared over the treetops, halting its forward motion directly over a raging battlefield. On one side of a small clearing, rank upon rank of enemy soldiers poured out from among the trees. Grunt could see several carrying glittering blue shields, while still more were clad in heavy armour, massive battlesuits that made the puny Humans tower taller than a Krogan or a Turian. A few enemies flickered with illusive light, shimmering in and out of focus as they cloaked. Between these, the Krogan saw several dozen riflemen, a few rocket troops, and even a couple of pyro troopers, torching the nearby plant life to rob the Turian’s squad of any possible cover they might use to sneak in close to the enemy. Bringing up the rear of this column were a pair of armoured vehicles, massive craft on hover jets that held them a couple of feet off the ground.

On the opposite side of the clearing, Grunt could make out several familiar figures. Garrus had perched himself in one of the trees, using the height to get a clear shot at the enemy. He worked quickly, coldly, never having to expend more than one shot to bring down a guard. Elsewhere, the Krogan caught sight of the second Turian, Delexia. The pirate was darting around, keeping mobile in an effort to give the squad the illusion of being more numerous than they actually were. Kasumi flickered around the battlefield, using her tactical camo to get in close and finish off a couple of guards with some lightning-fast jabs of her small fists before vanishing back into the trees. Mordin focused his efforts on setting enemies alight with the Incinerate function of his ‘tool or sending them tumbling to the ground, bodies wracked with pain as he sent a Neural Shock running through their bodies. Grunt could practically hear him commanding his comrades to ‘hold the line’. Elanie was remaining in one place, keeping up a constant rate of fire from her SMG that helped keep the enemy back, although she wasn’t managing to actually down many of the guards.

Just behind this defiant line, a glowing blue orb shone brightly, a beacon in the middle of the trees. Under this biotic dome, Jack held her arms up defensively to maintain the barrier, her arms encased in a brilliant white corona. Around her, several small shapes cowered timidly, presumably the non-combatants Shepard had mentioned.

“Hurry up and get us down there, Human!” Grunt’s voice was strained with anticipation.

“I’m trying! There’s no clear way down.” Kaidan protested. “I’ve gotta take her in slow.”

Grunt roared with impatience, slamming a meaty fist into the hatch control he stood behind. There was a loud wail of wind as the shuttle’s interior was exposed to the outer atmosphere. Without a second thought, Grunt keyed in a couple of commands on his omnitool. The first was to activate his armour’s Fortification function, feeling the buzz of power as the thick metal plates covering his body began to glow with power. His second command activated the shield he had been given by the Commander, an old toy used by the former Shadow Broker. The massive reddish-orange barrier sprang out of his omnitool, almost two thirds of his height and wide enough to hide his generous profile. This done, he took a couple of steps back and, a thunderous Krogan battlecry tearing out of his throat, charged out of the craft.

“What the hell are you-“ Kaidan never even got to finish his question before the Krogan was gone, plummeting out of the shuttle like a brick.

Grunt felt himself soar through the air, still howling his guttural cry. Branches whipped at him, his shield and armour keeping him from any serious harm. He dropped through the canopy like a wrathful god descending from on high, crashing into the enemy ranks below. He collided with two of the troopers in battlesuits, crushing one like a tin can under his immense weight. The second one staggered back from this sudden new threat, his armour sparking in several places from the impact. He tried to lift a gun to fire at the raging Krogan, but a quick swat of the burly alien’s shield cast him aside, unconscious or dead, it didn’t really matter to Grunt.

The rest of the guard force paused for a stunned second, looking at the gargantuan Krogan with a look of pure terror on their faces. After the initial lull, the enemy seemed to recover from the shock, raising their weapons to attack.

Grunt didn’t give them a chance to attack. With a bloodthirsty chuckle, he barged into the nearest cluster of foes, throwing one of the tiny Humans aside as if he weighed nothing at all. He grunted as his armour shuddered, deflecting a myriad impacts from enemy weapons fire. He raised the impenetrable shield he bore, using it to protect himself. He knew this defence would not last, his omnitool’s power capabilities limited, but at least he had the advantage for now. His Claymore coughed, spewing a large cloud of serrated metal pellets at one shimmering shape among the enemy ranks, reducing the cloaker to a fine red mist and grievously wounding the rifleman behind him. Spinning, the Krogan brought the stock of his weapon crashing into the face of one shield-bearer trying to get around his side.

Garrus watched in awe as the ‘perfect’ Krogan began his assault, realising exactly why the Council had decided to use that race in the Rachni Wars, and why they had posed enough of a threat to justify the use of the Genophage. Grunt was mowing through the lesser troops like they were wheat, and he was the harvester.

The Turian shook himself free from the awe-struck stare. He lifted his sniper rifle to his eye again, taking aim on one of the AESIR battlesuits trying to approach the Krogan. The shot fractured the faceplate of the suit, killing the operator.

“Keep it up!” He shouted to his comrades. “Don’t slow down now.”

He was answered by a chorus of fire from his allies, another half dozen foes dropping dead from the brutal assault.

Through the haze of the battle, Grunt became aware of the gleaming white shape of the shuttle sliding down through the treetops, hovering a couple of feet off the ground. As it came into view, open hatch pointed back towards the waiting children, the Krogan heard a loud whirring from off to one side.

One of the armoured vehicles, still relatively undamaged by the battle, had spotted the extraction craft and was turning its turret to take aim. The Kodiak had thick armour, but not much else. It wouldn’t cope well with close-range fire from an enemy tank.

Seeing the threat this craft posed, Grunt lunged towards it, ploughing through enemy soldiers in a bloody trail. He leapt up onto the tank, wrapping a large hand around the barrel of its main weapon. His Claymore clattered to the ground as his other hand reached up to grab the craft’s main gun.

Bullets tore into his back, the armour only deflecting most of the barrage, as his massive muscles squirmed under his skin like a bag of snakes. He roared defiantly as the gun began to whine, warming up to fire.

With a tearing sound and a sudden jerk, the gun began to turn. Just its field of fire moved off the shuttle, the first shell leapt from the barrel, going wide and exploding far off to one side. Grunt continued to twist the gun barrel until the turret tore free, metal shrieking and wires sparking.

The burly Krogan leapt down from the tank as it tried to fire again, a shell catching in the loading mechanism. There was a long, rising whine from within until the craft exploded in a brilliant fireball, its occupants incinerated by the flames.

The guards leapt back in fear as grunt, framed by the explosion at his back, picked up his shotgun and charged back into the fray, heedless of the mass of bullets trapped in his back.

Seeing salvation at hand, Elanie pulled back from her position, swiftly approaching Jack and the cowering children.

“Shuttle’s here! Come on!” She shouted over the noise of the battle.

The occupants of the biotic dome needed no further encouragement. Jack stood carefully erect, one hand held by one of the children, and began to pick her way over to the escape craft. She stumbled a few times, but she managed to find her way over to the shuttle, all the while maintaining the biotic bubble. Finally, she and the children clambered into the shuttle, the barrier finally fading as they reached safety. The convict slumped inside the shuttle, utterly exhausted by the exertion of her biotic display.

Seeing the non-combatants safe, Garrus ordered the rest of his team to fall back to the Kodiak now. Mordin and Kasumi went first, both firing their guns at any enemies who dared show themselves as the pair raced towards safety. In no time at all, they had made it, keeping their weapons out and aimed through the open hatch at any foes that tried to pursue the squad.

Elanie and Delexia were quick to follow, the latter emptying the last thermal clip of her rifle and throwing the weapon defiantly at the enemy as she made a run for it. In seconds they, too, had made it, leaving only Garrus and Grunt.

The Turian leapt down from his perch in the tree, holstering his sniper rifle and swapping it for his assault rifle. He sent a couple of chattering bursts of fire into the enemy around his Krogan ally, downing a few enemies. He raced up next to his comrade, placing his back against Grunt’s.

“Grunt! We’ve got to move!”

“Hah! And leave a party like this? This is the most fun I’ve had in months!” Grunt’s vision was partly clouded with red. He knew he was on the brink of entering the Blood Rage his race were notorious for, the frenzy where he would lose all semblance of control and tear into the enemy until either they were dead or he was. And he wanted it to happen.

“Enough, Grunt!” Garrus shouted angrily. “We’re not here to get ourselves killed, damnit! Get your giant ass moving, now!”

The Krogan roared defiantly, his shotgun blasting another pair of enemies into pieces.

“We can take ‘em!”

“That is not what we’ve been ordered to do.” Garrus was determined to win this argument. “We have to get the rest of the team out of here in one piece. Now are you going to get moving, or do you want to explain to Shepard just how your recklessness got the rest of the squad killed?”

Grunt let out an exasperated sigh, torn between his bloodlust and his allegiance to his Battlemaster. In the end, his loyalty won out over his instincts. He slammed a huge fist into the face of a shield-bearer furiously, nearly removing his head from the poor man’s neck, and began to move back towards the shuttle.

Beside him, Garrus nodded appreciatively, but said nothing.

The pair backed up to the shuttle, accounting for a good dozen enemies in the brief moments it took for them to find the Kodiak’s hatch and clamber in.

With its charges all safely aboard, the shuttle’s engines gunned and it tore off into the sky, arrowing away from the clearing at full speed.

Inside, Grunt slumped on the floor. His armour was so full of holes that it looked more like a colander than anything a soldier would wear, his Claymore had only a couple of shots left before being completely depleted, and his omnitool had burned out from maintaining the shield for so long, but he could do nothing except smile. He chuckled as he thought back on the battle, reliving the glorious bloodshed with relish.

Around him, the rest of the team sagged exhaustedly, glad that the ordeal was over.

~o~0~o~

~SHEPARD~

The skycar arced through the dawn sky above the Lawson estate, its occupants scanning the airspace around it for any approaching enemies.

Shepard was still on his feet, having to hunch his shoulders a little to allow for the low ceiling of the craft. The rest of the team had buckled up, fastening themselves in securely. Zaeed still manned the gunner’s chair, his keen gaze sweeping the displays before him for any threat.

“Shepard, its Kaidan.” The Commander’s second-in-command sounded over the comms.

“Go ahead, Kaidan.” Shepard replied immediately, relief swelling in his chest.

“We’ve got Garrus and his team aboard. All present and accounted for, save three. Elanie says that Etarn was trapped in the building with one of the children, a little girl called Two Forty Six. Garrus also says that he hasn’t heard from Legion since it went off the grid last night. I have no idea where the Geth might be.”

“Understood.” Shepard said grimly. “Head back for the Normandy. We’ll go looking for them.”

“Acknowledged.” With that, a silvery-white glimmer in the air announced the shuttle’s rapid ascent into the upper atmosphere and beyond, its drive glowing an intense hue of bluish white.

“Legion, Etarn, come in. This is Commander Shepard, do you copy?” Shepard asked on an open channel. His heart thumped in his chest at the hiss of static that was his only response.

“I repeat, this is Commander Shepard. Geth platform Legion, Etarn Kol’mehk, do you copy?”

The silence continued for one, two, three heartbeats.

“Shepard-Commander.” The Geth’s flat voice was accompanied by a chorus of gunshots.

“Legion! Thank god!” Shepard sighed. “Where are you?”

“We are attempting to evade enemy forces by ascending to the roof of Target Lawson’s domicile. We are in the company of Batarian ally, designation Etarn Kol’mehk and additional cargo designation Two Forty Six. A swift exit is required to ensure structural integrity of all allied units in this formation.”

“I read you, Legion. We’re on our way. Just hold on for a few more minutes.”

“Acknowledged.” The Geth’s comm channel closed.

“Take us back to the roof of the mansion. Look out for any signs of movement, and head straight for it.”

“Shepard, we’ve got more enemies taking to the skies.” Zaeed cautioned from his place at the back of the vehicle. “Might wanna make this quick.”

“How many?”

“Five gunships. Estimated time to intercept is four minutes, seventeen seconds.” The grizzled soldier kept his voice even, not betraying a glimmer of concern.

“Think you can make it in time?” Shepard turned to the Collector at the controls.

“It’ll be tight.” The Revenant explained. “I won’t be able to get in close to the roof. There are too many obstructions in the way. The best I can do is find the edge of the building closest to them and get in nice and cosy.”

“Do it.”

The skycar’s occupants were silent as the vehicle arrowed back to the Lawson mansion. Shepard looked over his shoulder to Miranda. She looked back with a stony stare, though her eyes flashed with worry for the child still out there.

The mansion grew large in the front viewport, small details becoming easier to pick out with every second that passed. The Commander’s eyes darted about, looking for any sign of his comrades.

Eventually he spotted movement to one side. Close to the gable end of the west wing, two figures raced across the slick tiles. Not two figures, actually. On closer inspection, the second was revealed to be carrying a third individual, clasped to his chest.

“There they are!” Shepard managed not to shout it. The last Collector nodded before turning the skycar into a swooping loop that brought him up at the gable end. The hatch hissed open, allowing the cool morning air to mix with the heated perspiration of the skycar’s crew.

Shepard moved to the open hatch, looking out. He saw the beleaguered pair racing for all they were worth across the rooftop, closely pursued by a large group of guards. Weapons fire bounced off the tiles at their feet, a few of the tiles actually shattering in a spray of razor-sharp fragments.

Legion had pulled out ahead of Etarn, the Geth’s tireless mechanical legs proving to have more endurance than the Batarian’s flesh-and-blood ones. It covered the final few feet and dove in through the open hatch, scrambling out of the way so that Etarn had a clear run.

The Batarian redoubled his pace upon seeing the Commander urging him on, his feet pounding on the tiles in a rhythmic pace. As he pushed his body to its limits, a stream of enemy bullets found him, blood spurting from a half dozen new wounds as he staggered from the shock, amazingly keeping on his feet and maintaining enough momentum to push across the final few yards.

Etarn was only seconds away when Zaeed let out a warning shout. Before the Commander could react, he was thrown back, landing on his rear as the skycar shook from a tremendous explosion that destroyed a good chunk of the rooftop it had been hovering next to. A gunship roared by overhead, already turning to make another pass. The skycar wheeled through the air, buffeted about by the force of the impact. Shepard’s throat clenched with worry as he saw the mansion pull away.

Undaunted by the sudden change in circumstances, Etarn pushed on. His feet found the edge of the roof and he leapt with all of his might. As he soared through the air, Two Forty Six left his arms, the four-eyed alien heaving her ahead of him in an effort to make sure she survived no matter what.

The two bodies struck the edge of the hatch with brutal force, twin gasps of air rushing from their lungs. Jacob lurched forwards, catching Etarn by the hand before he had a chance to slide back over the edge. The ex Corsair instantly began pulling his Batarian colleague back in.

Shepard’s entire world became the tiny, terrified face of two Forty Six, peeking up over the edge of the skycar’s hatch. Her little arms flailed for purchase on the metal, slowly losing their battle with gravity. Shepard launched himself forward, his chest striking the edge of the hatch as the little girl lost her grip and began to plummet. He pushed through the sharp stab of pain, his arm darting out to reach for her. Their fingertips brushed for the briefest of seconds, her soft hand slipping through his. He swung out even further to reach for her again, but could do nothing as his eyes locked on her face, rapidly retreating towards the ground.

The Commander lay there, frozen, paralysed, for a good few moments. Through the sudden numbness of his mind, Shepard heard Jacob shouting orders to get the hell out of there, but none of it really registered with the Commander. He could barely breathe as he slowly lifted himself from the edge of the hatch, allowing it to close behind him. He turned, his eyes finding the icy hues of Miranda. Her face remained deathly still, her cheeks colourless and her lips stiff, as she looked into his eyes, already knowing what he was about to say.

“She-“ Shepard choked on the words. “She fell.”

~o~0~o~

[fainmaca]

Okay guys that finishes off chapter 27 and the mission to Bekenstein. I hope you liked it.

I'm going to stop posting this fic here and just keep regular updates on FF.net instead. Much easier to keep it in one place. I'll post here when a new chapter goes up, but I won't put the actual fic up here anymore.