A/N: First published fanfic here. Mostly original characters, with a smattering of cameos and minor appearances from some of Mass Effect's supporting cast. Rated M for language and violence, perhaps some sexual themes to come. I'm still getting used to 's formatting, so be prepared for some minor updates here and there. Feedback very welcome. I'd prefer criticism to be kept constructive, but don't hesitate to let me know even if you hate it.
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Prologue
Archasis, Danube System, Voyager Cluster
2174
With only a soft whine from its ventral air jets, the transport hit the hard ground of Archasis, its rate of descent so slowed by a combination of externally deployed helium gas envelopes, mass effect fields and an artificially produced air cushion that it made barely any noise, a feat entirely in keeping with the vessel's purpose.
Its approach to the planet had been slow out of necessity, the pilot was forced to drop from faster-than-light speeds far earlier than was common to minimise the chances of the radiation emitted during the transition being detected. Though the vessel's design and material construction was optimised for stealth, its engines could only run at a slow burn as it approached Archasis' thin atmosphere, again to keep emissions as low as possible. Finally, the engines had to be completely shut off for the descent through the atmosphere, the craft's freefall slowed by the inflation of a series of large latex bags along the hull containing helium, operating on the principles of the very first human flight. The oldest human flight technology was merged with the newest, a powerful mass effect field that effectively reduced the vessel's mass, and subsequently its weight, allowing the minimally sized balloons to work effectively.
All this was merely a precaution, Archasis was home to less than two hundred inhabitants, and the chances of them actually spotting the transport were already low. But the ship's occupants were used to secrecy, it was second nature to them; caution was their mantra, and to disregard their training for the sake of convenience was unthinkable, especially given the potentially fatal consequences of early detection.
Resting on an array of landing struts, the transport stood more than two metres above the rock flats of the northern tip of Archasis' largest landmass, ample room for the boarding ramp to descend and allow its occupants to debark. Even in something as simple as this, though, the men inside were rigorous in their adherence to procedure and training. The first two to emerge were clad in black body armour, reinforced helmets with a visor covering three quarters of the otherwise exposed face sat squat on their heads. Their stance was slightly crouched, their arms raised as they gripped blocky assault rifles, their outward aim constantly swivelling in a near hundred-and-eighty degree arc away from the transports front. The two soldiers crept down the ramp, settling into a full, stationary crouch at the bottom of the ramp.
The rightmost one removed his left hand from the rifle's foregrip, and raised it just above his head, palm open. After a brief moment, he silently tapped the top of his helmet twice. Less than a second after the action was complete, a further three soldiers, clad in the same black armour came down the ramp, again crouching with assault rifles raised. These three went further than first two, making their way beyond the overhang of their transport, to take up positions in a semi-circle around the bow, rifles remaining high. The two point men moved again, taking up positions between and slightly in front of their three squadmates. A final three men emerged from the transport, their movement only fractionally, but noticeably nonetheless, smoother than the other five. They were more precise, more certain; even among the elite they stood out. The one on the left side carried a long barrelled sniper rifle, his assault rifle compacted and fitted to a carrying space on his back. All the men carried smaller shotguns in a similar manner in a slot in the lower back. The one in the middle was the shorter of the three, though his form fitting armour also showed him to be of heavier build, the eyes behind the transparent visor gleamed with confidence and a cold arrogance, a subtle sign of his command over the other men, a sign that would be confirmed by a small turned v symbol on his shoulder, were anyone able to get close enough to see it.
"We're clear, sir," Came a young voice, breaking the still of the Archasis night air, "visual and scanning equipment show no signs of life for the next ten kilometres."
"Acknowledged, Gamma," the commander said with quick nod of his head. He strode down the rest of the ramp, and looked around, keen eyes taking in all the detail of the relatively featureless plain. To the east was a large buttress of grey rock, stark against the beige dust of the rock plain even in the pale light of two of Archasis' moons. To the south, their destination, he could see the beginnings of scrub land, the opening into the 'tropical' regions on either side of the planet's equator, its only habitable band. A soft wind had sprung up out of the still night, a sign that day was on the approach.
"Epsilon," he barked, this time to the man on his right, "get the rover down." With a silent nod, the taller man moved back into the interior of the ship. Unlike the others, he carried no weapon in his hands. His assault rifle was stored, like the sniper's, on his back; the way he had gripped the stock of the pistol on his hip was, however, testament to his preferences. Epsilon's armour was markedly slimmer than the other members of his squad, lacking the large shoulder defenders and neck armour, a concession in protection that benefitted mobility.
A few minutes after he had returned to the transport, a large section of its ventral hull descended to the ground, a large lift on which a bulky, six-wheeled vehicle stood. The T45 Armoured Personnel Carrier was as ugly as it was capable. Its heavy plating offered protection from both enemy fire and dozens of the potential hazards one could encounter on otherwise inhospitable worlds, while the 80mm turret mounted mass accelerator cannon on its topside gave it considerable ability to defend itself. The hatch at the rear of the vehicle opened, and the eight man squad wordlessly boarded the vehicle.
An hour and a half later, and the APC was tearing through ever-thickening scrub land as it headed for its target, three hundred kilometres north of the equator.
"Lambda," the squad leader shouted over the roar of the engines, "what's our position?"
The man he addressed, one of the two who had hit the ground first, was sat forward behind and to the right of Tau, the driver, in the navigation seat. His features were younger than that of his companions, his brown military haircut was completely hidden by the helmet, and his face was less weathered than the more experienced men around him. But the green eyes that glimmered through his visor in the dim light of the APC's interior were focused with the same cold determination as all the other eyes in the vehicle. He may have been the youngest, the squad newbie, but he was still combat hardened, a veteran of five years service in the military. Two of those years had been spent in the service of the Space and Planetary Extraction, Assault, Reconnaissance Service, known as the SPEARS both for convenience and in acknowledgement of their elite status in the Marine Corps. Though their origins could be traced back to the 20th century's US Navy SEALS, the SPEARS was attached solely to the Systems Alliance, and included soldiers not only from almost every country on Earth, by from many of her colony worlds as well.
But despite their training, the Alliance had found that a unit as large and well known as the SPEARS was insufficient for the most dangerous, secretive and in many cases ethically questionable operations that were sometimes required in order to maintain the peace. And thus it was that Lambda's new division had been set up. The black-ops unit known as Cerberus went beyond the usual command structure, technically they were not part of the Surface Armies, nor did they answer to the Navy. Cerberus had one commander, and he was known only to the highest military administrators and government officials.
To be a member was a great honour, Cerberus was sworn to protect humanity at all and any cost, and they recruited only the best and brightest, typically from the SPEARS, or the army's Triple S regiment, but rumours persisted that not all the unit's members had even been military, some were said to have been mercenaries for hire, or even criminals whose abilities and mindset had allowed them to blend in with the rest of the troops. In addition, Cerberus operated its own intelligence service and maintained a modest flotilla of strike frigates and support vessels.
To the strike teams, the crux of Cerberus' operations, names were disregarded for operational security. Discussions involving any personal details were discouraged, as were friendships with one's teammates. It was a dangerous, dark life, shrouded in secrecy; but for the man known to his squadmates only as Lambda, the prestige of such a posting was worth the restrictions on social life. A three year tour here and he would have his pick of postings. He could return as the commander of SPEARS unit, and carry on with a substantial paycheque, a position of respect and a job he enjoyed until he was ready to retire. And of course, Cerberus was the epitome of self-sacrifice for the greater good of humanity, and that alone appealed to Lambda.
"We're eighty klicks out, sir," Lambda told his commanding officer, known to his squad as Sigma, "Increasing amounts of vegetation, there's a small forest about four klicks to the south east, but our course takes us round it. The facility is on the borders of a much larger forest to the south."
Having studied the briefing data more thoroughly even than the troops under his command, Sigma was already well aware of the facility's location, but he appreciated that Lambda was merely mentioning all the information he felt relevant at this time. Still, Cerberus valued precision over all else, and Lambda needed to know that when asked a question, he should answer that and nothing else. It wouldn't do to hold a conversation in the middle of a firefight, and that had to be ingrained even outside training and the battlefield.
"Acknowledged, but when I ask a question, Lambda, I only want you to answer that specific question, not give me crap about something I already know. Understood?"
"Sir, yes sir. Sorry, sir." Lambda's clipped voice betrayed none of the mild embarrassment he felt underneath, and he hastily returned to his navigation duties.
Sigma was an excellent commander, indeed Lamba often marvelled at how he could possibly still only be a sergeant, when the rank of major or even colonel seemed so much more fitting, but he was a cold man, almost to the point of ruthlessness. Lambda knew that Sigma was a career man, he had joined the military at eighteen, supposedly having already completed a youth programme that allowed him to fly through basic. He had been in the Triple S, but most of his career had been serving in Cerberus, and it showed in his personality. He had become so engrossed in this world of shadows and death that it was now all he cared about, getting the job of protecting Earth done, however possible, with no thought of immediate consequences.
Lambda briefly looked up from the holographic map occupying the space in front of him, and studied the men of his eight man squad. They were Cerberus Assault Squad Two, their nickname of 'The Claws' being the only personal touch they were allowed. They had no badge, no motif and no mascot; second only to Squad One, 'The Fangs', the nickname and the fierce competition between the two squads were the only links the men had to a more normal military life. All of the men were preparing themselves for combat, some sitting stoically to remain focused, others endlessly checking and rechecking their gear in near-silence to maintain confidence in their weapons. Epsilon was running through some programs on his omni-tool, the orange holographic interface covering his left hand like a bizarre glove, while next to him demolitions expert Delta was mouthing detonation sequences to himself soundlessly, his eyes closed as he scanned his memory.
Lambda took a small canteen from a pouch below the shotgun on his lower back and took a swig. The water was a little warm, but it relieved his dry throat. Shaking off his feelings of apprehension, Lambda replaced the canteen and returned to his duties once again, his face mirroring the stony impassiveness of the APC's driver, Tau.
*****
Less than two hours later, the squad had taken up positions in a wooded area eight hundred metres from their objective. The men had fanned out, to reduce group visibility, and most were taking cover behind trees or rocks, save for a cluster of three men in the middle of the formation, lying prone in a tangle of loose foliage. In the centre of these three was the squad sniper expert, Gamma, peering through the scope of his Naginata sniper rifle; beside him was squad commander Sigma and tech expert Epsilon.
"Two sniper towers overlooking the main entrance," Gamma said, in barely more than a whisper despite the distance between the Cerberus squad and the facility, "guards on duty, but they're not weapons-ready. They're both sitting down, looks like one's even using an extranet terminal."
"Sloppy." Sigma spat
"I doubt they expected to ever be attacked, inaction breeds ill-discipline." Epsilon countered, eliciting a small smile from Sigma; it was a phrase he used often.
"I don't see any other defences, anti-infantry turret on the balcony above the door, but it requires an operator and there are non present." Epsilon concluded his survey.
"Right, take them down on code Zulu," Sigma ordered, before flicking a small switch on the side of his helmet to activate the suit radio, "Lambda and Tau, provide cover for Epsilon and Delta as they advance to the door, go code Zulu. Iota and Alpha, you're with me."
Lambda sprinted quickly over to Delta, his gait made awkward by crouching low to decrease his visibility. Meeting up with Epsilon and Tau behind a mid sized tree on the edge of the wood, they arranged themselves in staggered, partnered formation; Epsilon and Tau at the front, with Epsilon to the side of slightly behind Tau, with Delta and Lambda in a similar position a couple of metres behind Epsilon.
"Squad, Sigma. Go code Zulu." Sigma breathed into his microphone.
Immediately, Tau took a deep breath and sprinted from cover towards a rock some three hundred metres away, the only cover in all that distance. As soon as he left the tree line, Gamma squeezed the trigger of his rifle, the crosshairs of his scope lined up perfectly with the turian guard in the left-most watchtower. Tau heard the weapon's booming report clearly over his heavy footfalls and heavier breathing, and in Gamma's scope, the turian's head vanished in a cloud of pink mist. No sooner had he registered the kill, he was already training his scope on the human guard in the right tower. The man had heard the shot, and was scrambling to his feet, hands fumbling with a rifle of his own. He was far too late though, and only a few seconds after his comrade's death, he met an all too similar fate.
An equivalent time gap existed between Tau and Epsilon's departure from the cover of the wood, but Epsilon was a fractionally quicker runner, his lighter armour making considerable difference in agility and by the time Tau hit the rock and trained his assault rifle on the facility's entrance, Epsilon had joined him in their new cover, panting slightly from the run.
Soon after came Lambda and Delta.
"This is crazy," Delta whispered, "there's no cover between here and the base. None at all."
"Then we take it slow and cautious, if we sprint for it, we'll have no time to react if a contact does pop up. We move out together, and try and cover all the angles, if a target makes themselves known, we train fire on them and hope our shields can take the first few hits. Agreed?" Tau, the most experienced Cerberus soldier present suggested. The others nodded in unanimous agreement. And they stood up at once, moving at brisk walking pace towards the facility, weapons raised and aimed in different directions. Lambda fell in slightly behind the others as rearguard, watching the nearly semicircular field of view to the rear of the formation for any sign of movement.
The men made it to the entrance with no complications, and set up positions either side of the large door. Epsilon immediately went to work on the door's control panel with his omni-tool, radioing Sigma on completion of his survey.
"Entrance is clear, sergeant. No security systems beyond coded door entry, and I can crack that with no problems. The main entrance uses a decon system, there's two sets of doors."
"We're on our way. Have Delta get a breach charge ready, we'll crack the first door and blow the second."
"Aye, sir." Epsilon's response an instinct left over from his time in the marines.
A few moments later, Sigma, Gamma and the other two members of the squad had arrived, and Epsilon had finished decrypting the door code. With a soft hiss of hydraulics, the door opened and the men stepped inside. Lambda and Tau immediately positioned themselves either side of the inner door, backs to the wall and weapons ready. Epsilon crouched next to Tau, pistol in hand; Gamma and Sigma moved to either side of the room, weapons trained on the door, with Iota and Alpha in similar positions between them, further back from the door. Delta affixed a small explosive charge to the doors locking mechanism, while Lambda removed a disc-shaped stun grenade from his belt. With a nod from Sigma, Delta fired the detonator charge and scurried behind Lambda, readying his assault rifle. The breach charge blew, and the door collapsed inwards, Lambda primed his grenade and throw it in, turning away to shield his eyes from the dazzling flash, while his helmet filters dampened the deafening bang.
It was a classic door breach manoeuvre, but scarcely was it performed with the precision these men were capable of. His sniper rifle pointed at the doorway, eye to the smartscope, Gamma was the first to look inside the facility, the combat optics filters allowing his scope to penetrate the swirling dust and smoke that resulted from the door's violent destruction.
As expected, this second room had not been empty. A door guard, caught in the blast, lay on the floor just beyond the broken remains of the door, blood pooling where his right leg had been blown clean off, his face a blood-stained mask of shock, as his open eyes seemed to stare at the piece of doorframe lodged in his chest. Further into the room, two more guards were crouched down, hands pressed against their heads as they tried to shut out the disorientation and clear the searing afterimage from their vision.
"Weapons free." Came Sigma's voice over the radio, cold in its simple command. He followed up the order with a swift burst from his assault rifle, sending shards of metal accelerated to incredible velocity at the nearest guard, a turian. The rounds tore through the man's body armour, and he jerked with the impact before falling to the floor. Still deafened from the stun grenade, the second guard did not even hear the gunfire that killed his companion, and a shot from Gamma's sniper rifle sent him to join the departed. "Move out." Sigma gave a second order, and the squad proceeded through the ruined doorway into the facility itself.
Lambda's briefing had told him that the facility was home to a joint project between turian and human military contractors. The reports stated that shortly after the group had developed a device that allowed a simple rifle to be quickly converted into a miniaturised particle accelerator, they had gone rogue and abandoned their government directives. Rather than the standard mechanism of shearing rounds off a block of treated metal, the device allowed a rifle to fire charged bolts of particles, typically protons, along with a minimal mass to guide the particles home. Reminiscent of the fighter launched disruptor torpedoes, these rounds were capable of entirely bypassing kinetic barriers, though the damage they were capable of inflicting was less than a conventional round.
Still, it was a dangerous technology, and it could not fall into the hands of terrorists. Intelligence had not suggested any motivation for the scientists to go rogue, but had stressed the importance of recovering the weapon, and capturing the scientists for further interrogation. Supposedly, the turians had previously had limited success with a similar design on the atomic scale, using lithium ions, but Lambda found it quite remarkable that the youngest species on the galactic scene, humanity, had already helped them perfect the new design only a few decades after first contact.
As the squad moved through the entrance station, Lambda returned his thoughts to the immediate mission. He needed to focus, though there were no firm numbers on the amount of guards stationed here, estimates placed their numbers around twenty, and the Cerberus team's violent entry must surely have alerted them. Decrypting the second door may have been initially quieter, but the risk of not knowing what was behind the door, as well as the noise of the firefight that would have come eventually meant that surprise and blistering speed offered a much greater advantage than stealth.
The squad navigated their way through the corridors to the labs, using a cautious leap frog approach to move the men round the corners, along with mirrors to peer round them, and grenades to clear out any hostiles that might be hiding behind cover. They encountered no resistance, however, until they breached the labs. The main room was too large for the flashbang grenade to be effective, and the Cerberus squad found themselves in a firefight with a team of around ten facility guards.
Immediately, Lambda took cover behind a reinforced metal experiment table. Trusting in his suits kinetic barriers, he popped his head and assault rifle above the table. Feeling a soft impact on his head as a round struck his shields, Lambda took aim at the turian guard firing at him, a burst from the assault rifle lighting up the man's kinetic barriers around the impact in a blue haze. A second burst produced no such effect, but the man's armour appeared to deflect the rounds. Lambda ducked down again, but did not hear the expected impacts of return fire on the table. He looked over again, and saw the turian slumped over the crate he had been using for cover. Apparently, a round had penetrated somewhere critical, evidence that the guards' light armour had not been designed with top of the line military hardware in mind.
Over to Lambda's left, Tau and Iota were exchanging fire with a trio of human guards, one of whom had a shotgun firing blazing scarlet rounds. Incendiaries, Lambda realised, as shrapnel from one blast burned a blackened hole in a nearby chair. Tau and Iota sprang out from either side of the crate they were crouched behind simultaneously and fired two quick bursts of their assault rifles at the guard on the right. Tau's took out the kinetic barriers, while Iota's made a mess of the man's face, splattering blood and grey matter on the wall behind him.
As Iota attempted to roll behind a desk to his left, the shotgun fired again, striking him on the leg. The kinetic barriers dealt with most of the impact, but so many projectiles on such a small area overwhelmed the abilities of the shield, and some burned their way through the armour.
"Son of a bitch!" Iota screamed as he clutched his leg, red blood leaking out of the wound and faint wisps of smoke curling upwards from the holes in his armour. The blast had sufficient force to knock Iota out of his roll, and he was now exposed. As the guard racked his shotgun to clear any trace shrapnel left in the barrel, and aimed at Iota once again, his head exploded as a high velocity round passed through it, accompanied by the distinctive boom of Gamma's sniper rifle. That left one guard remaining in the immediate area, and both Tau and Lambda opened fire in the same instant, sustained bursts of fire that delivered sufficient kinetic energy to knock the guard backwards as he fell in a jerking, skittering dance, the rounds ripping through his armour and bloodying the floor beneath him.
Over on the other side of the room, Sigma and Delta flanked a pair of guards while Alpha kept their heads down with suppressing fire from his machine gun, the bulky weapon's extreme rate of fire and destructive ability not allowing the guards to move a muscle for fear of being hit by an oversized round. With flawless timing, Alpha ceased fire just as Sigma and Delta sighted the guards. The helpless men attempted to return fire on Alpha, unaware of the two other soldiers now behind them. Sustained assault rifle fire quickly felled the guards before they had a chance to turn round.
Lambda scanned the room, there was only one guard left. He was standing his ground in front of a group of terrified scientists and technicians cowering in a corner, his outstretched hand clutching a shaking pistol that was aimed right at Epsilon, who in turn was pointing his own pistol at the guard.
"I'd drop that weapon if I were you," he said levelly, "you're more than a little outnumbered."
Lambda turned to see Gamma raising his rifle at the guard, but his angle was tight enough that he risked hitting Epsilon, and any movement could spook the guard into firing. Clearly, Gamma was not convinced Epsilon's light armour would protect him, especially given the nature of the weapon that had been developed at this facility.
"Sigma, Gamma. I do not have clear shot on target. Repeat: I do not have a clear shot." Gamma whispered into the radio.
The guard kept his gun up, his face drained of all colour. He opened his mouth a fraction as if to say something, but quickly closed it again. Looking again at Epsilon, Lambda noticed that he was slowly moving his fingers over his omni-tool, specifically he was fitting a small disc into a slot at the top of the device. A tech mine, Lambda had seen them used often enough to instantly recognise the device. Keeping his face impassive, Epsilon suddenly flicked his wrist forward, the orange holographic interface lighting up as he activated his omni-tool. The stunned guard pulled the trigger of his pistol, but too late. The proximity activated mine had flashed out a signal that interfered with the pistol's heat sensors, fooling it into thinking the weapon had overheated. The gun jammed, and the guard let out a scream of terror and frustration just before Epsilon calmly fired a single round between the guard's eyes, letting out a slow breath as the man fell to the floor.
"Well done Epsilon," Sigma said in a rare admission of praise, "now get to work extracting the files from these computers. Lambda, take Tau and Delta and check out the rest of this facility. Alpha, clean this room up. I'll see what I can do for Iota."
Lambda winced; it was a bitter irony that the only member of their team injured was the squad medic. Fortunately he was still conscious, and everyone on the team knew enough that he could at least be stabilised. Accepting there was nothing he could do for the man propped up against a desk, teeth gritted through the pain, Lambda set off through the lab exit on the other side from their entrance.
As the door closed behind them, Lambda was shocked to hear the muffled sound of Alpha's machine gun fire two quick bursts. Their mission had been to capture the scientists, granted he had not been sure how they were to be extracted, but they were unarmed prisoners nonetheless. Still, his orders were clear, and Lambda and his team proceeded to clear out the corridors beyond the lab, a twisting array of dormitories and dining rooms, along with some offices and a guard post.
All of them were empty, and the slow pace that caution dictated was beginning to become frustrating with no results. But on reaching a cluster of offices at the rear of the facility, a sign told Lambda he was in the administration section, and the mirror he held round the corner showed it was guarded. Haste borne of frustration caused Lambda to put the mirror out a little too far, and the two human guards either side of the door at the end of the corridor saw it. A hail of gunfire forced Lawson to duck further round the corner, as several rounds ripped through the wall. Realising this was no time for subtlety, he pulled a high explosive grenade from his belt and throw it round the corner. The blast rocked the floor and dislodged pieces of wall and ceiling, shattering the lights. Peering through the smoke, Lambda found what remained of the guards scattered across the corridor, dark blood staining what little of the floor was not scorched black.
The door they had been guarding was locked, but a blast from Lambda's shotgun quickly solved that issue as the projectiles shredded the locks. A firm kick collapsed the door in, and the team moved in, weapons raised, to find two humans and a turian waiting for them. One human and the turian wore lab coats, while the other human was dressed in a smart suit, now looking somewhat dishevelled. The turian had a pistol raised at them, and Lambda's shotgun immediately faced him.
"Drop the weapon, turian!" Lambda shouted sternly. The turian hesitated slightly, but confronted with Lambda's shotgun, and the assault rifles of his teammates, he complied. "Good. You are all under arrest for conspiring against both the Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy and for the development of weapons with the intent to commit terrorism against said governments. You do not-"
"What?" The human in the suit cut him off, "This is madness! We're not conspiring against the government! We're military contractors; this work is for the Alliance and all of Citadel Space!"
"Wrong," came a voice behind Lambda, he turned to see Sigma standing there, pistol in hand, "this weapon is for the Alliance, no one else. We're here to see it doesn't fall into the hands of alien scum like this," he motioned to the turian, "Cerberus serves the human race, and that's it."
"Sir," Lambda interjected, "I thought we were here to capture the weapon and the science team, what happened to-?"
"Operational security, Lambda," Sigma cut in again, "I didn't know if I could trust you with the details of the op before we went in. This division was set up specifically for operations like this, this is what Cerberus does. The Alliance needs every edge over the aliens it can get, but what we want and how we have to appear to the aliens lording it over us on the council can be two different things. That's where deniability comes in. We get our orders from the General, no one else, and he can be rather elusive. The aliens won't ever know what his job really is, hell most of the Alliance military doesn't know. We take the tech, and cover our tracks. And on top of that we get to blame the destruction of a joint species research base on terrorists, which lessens the restrictions on us hunting the real bastards out there. Win-win, Lambda." Sigma smiled, and aimed his pistol at the man in the suit. "Administrator Blackburn, it's my responsibility to see to you personally." Sigma pulled the trigger, and Blackburn collapsed backwards with a gurgle as the round struck his throat, a brief spray of blood spattering the ceiling as his head was thrown backwards.
The human scientist dived to the floor, but a burst from Tau's assault rifle ensured he was dead before he hit the floor.
"Now Lambda, I need to know you can commit to this unit fully. Dispose of the alien." Sigma ordered, a harsh note in his voice.
Lambda opened his mouth to object, but caught the look in his commander's eyes. He hesitated, the shotgun quivering in his unsteady hands.
"Please don't kill me," the turian whispered, his voice trembling, "please. I've done nothing wrong."
"Do it now Lambda, there's no room for indecision on my team."
Lambda gritted his teeth, ignoring the screaming of his conscience as he squeezed the trigger, silencing the turian's pleas as the blast blew his brains over the back wall. Lambda gasped and dropped the weapon, barely noticing Epsilon come into the room.
"Data's copied, sir. Three OSDs worth, I've given them to Iota. The medigel's doing its job, he said he should pull through. Alpha has the prototypes."
"Good work, soldier," Sigma smiled, "now it occurs to me that we need to make this look like the work of terrorists, but a terrorist operation is bound to suffer casualties, and we don't have any."
"Sir?" Epsilon asked, puzzled
"Well, you're the only one with commercially available armour. I guess we've found our scapegoat." Sigma's voice was cold as he fired his pistol, at point blank range the barrel was within the suit's kinetic barriers, and the projectile went straight through Epsilon's head. He grunted as his brains joined those of the scientists splattered around the office and slumped to the floor. "When I tell you to kill a turian because he's a god-damned turian you bloody well do it!" Sigma screamed as he fired another round into Epsilon's corpse. "Lambda," Sigma whirled round to face the shocked soldier, his face a mask of rage, "strip the body of anything that could identify him and take his weapon and omni-tool, then get your ass back to the APC. We leave in twenty minutes, so you'd better run. Do you understand me, soldier?"
"Sir, yes, sir." Lambda said sharply, saluting. Sigma fired a few more rounds into Epsilon's body and strode out the room. Delta turned as he left, to give Lambda a sympathetic look before he accompanied the rest of the team.
Lambda stood in shock for a few moments, he had assumed they were going in to stop terrorists, only to find that he was the real terrorist in this operation. He stared in horror at the turian he had killed, a sick feeling rising in his stomach as the guilt mounted. Worse was the memory of how instinctive the kill had been, the order came and he complied. Was this the true burden of Cerberus, that to protect humanity, one had to sacrifice one's own? Fighting the urge to throw up, Lambda knelt down by Epsilon's motionless corpse. He removed the omni-tool and pistol, and then put his hand under the damaged chest plates. The tightness of the armour was something of a hindrance, but eventually Lambda found what he was looking for: Epsilon's dog tags. Only seen when a Cerberus operative was killed, they represented the man's identity, buried under the armour.
Snatching them from the dead man's neck, Lambda wiped the blood off the thin metal plate.
Kowalski
Edward L, B –
171 63 8224
SANMC SPEARS 3rd Division
With a jolt, Lambda realised that Epsilon had served in the same division as he had before joining Cerberus. He stuffed the dog tags in a pocket on his belt and began a swift jog back to the APC. How much more did Lambda have in common with Edward L Kowalski, could their fates be the same?
Lambda said nothing as he climbed aboard the APC, nothing as Sigma congratulated him on a job well done, nothing as they boarded the transport craft.
"Well done, Lambda. You're a true Cerberus trooper now, the best of the best." Tau said with a smile.
Lambda gave a small smile back, and nodded his head, but still he said nothing, none of the squad seemed to feel the least remorse for Epsilon's death, a comment from Alpha summed up how they felt,
"He didn't have the mindset. Training doesn't count for shit if you haven't got it right up there."
As the men nodded their agreement, all Lambda could do was wonder if being the best was worth selling his soul the way these men had.