Despite the flowery description of the colony, Freedom's Progress did not immediately impress in person. Aside from the fact that the squad had landed somewhere inside the frigid winter period, the main population center was made up of the dead gray concrete and low-slung prefab pod habitat litter that comprised most young colony worlds. It was dark, so the promised "mountain vistas" were not on the menu. Neither, of course, were the colonists - the main ingredient of pretty much all colonies everywhere. The missing colonists lent a certain neutron-bomb aura to the whole place. Empty and depressing, but for no readily apparent reason. The howling wind did not do much to lighten the mood, either. The main problem was the colonists. Well, that's why we're here.
"Did you say something, Shepard?"
Miranda. Did he say that out loud?
"Ah...no. Nothing important. Do we still show no activity on scans?" It was a blessing nobody could see his ears burning inside the helmet. His stupid, uncomfortable helmet. All this research and they can't design one that fits right? Or maybe they didn't grow his skull back quite the same size. Alarming thought.
Jacob was staring vacantly into his OT. Shepard knew that it was an artifact of the neural interface, a kind of reality disconnect that some people experienced. That didn't stop it from being a little creepy.
"We're not near any source of EM activity above the background level expected for these idle structures, commander," Jacob said as the displays shifted quickly to show the results of other scans running both locally and down-linked from the ship. "However, data from orbit is showing an area to the north which has slightly higher levels. We can't get a precise location, could be something active inside one of these pods." He lowered the tool and seemed to return to the team. "It's not much higher, but it's the only aberration that we can see. Most of these are pretty heavily shielded."
Shepard nodded. They would be. Freedom's Progress' parent star was slightly variable, and there was some information in the codex suggesting it could be a low-frequency flare star. The corporations sponsoring these far-flung colonies were pretty careful not to be sued, even if most colonists had signed their lives away to escape the crowded city-states of Earth.
"Let's make our way in that direction then. Weapons ready, I don't want to spend another two years in the tank." Shepard drew an assault rifle from his suit webbing as Jacob chuckled softly. The rifle came to life as the grip molded to his hands. That ought to show up on some scans. He motioned Miranda and Jacob to stay low. "Move out."
It had taken some convincing on Shepard's part to make Jacob accept that Commander Shepard led from the front, always. He was relieved as both of his Cerberus allies-for-now fell in behind him with no audible complaints. Miranda definitely needed to stay back. How was that even armor? He supposed it must have some function aside from being painted on for decoration. Protection. From what, a stiff breeze? Technology again, probably. In any event, if Miranda was up front Shepard might be...distracted. Can't have that. Might impact The Mission, etc.
The unlikely squad of two goons from a reputed terrorist organization and one dead Alliance hero moved slowly and deliberately through the drab pods and looming concrete walls. Their footsteps echoed loudly in a silence punctuated only by the wind occasionally whistling around piles of junk and composite fences guarding the walkways. During the frequent pauses for Jacob to verify his scans, it was so quiet Shepard could hear the ice crystals from the light precipitation striking his visor. He could hear his heart beating a little faster than normal. At least, it was sort of his heart. It was grown by Cerberus, like so much of his body had been over the last two years. Coming to terms with what had happened and with what he might...be...was difficult to think about at this stage. He pushed it back into a corner of his mind. Wasn't it his mind? Ok - time to forget about that for now. Focus on The Mission, focus on those lost colonists.
"Commander." Jacob gestured towards a pod about a hundred meters away, accessed via a narrow walkway fronted by an unlikely looking picnic table and the requisite piles of junk that seemed to be everywhere. "The increased activity can be localized to that building there. I can't tell from here what's causing it, except to say it doesn't match any signatures for the standard equipment expected on this world."
"Off-world tech?" Miranda shifted uneasily, the first crack in a completely composed persona that Shepard had seen. "We didn't see any evidence of ships in orbit, or even in-system. No damage, thermal clip casings, nothing."
"Could be remnants of what passed through here, whatever caused this. A trap, maybe." Shepard felt a cold sweat break out despite the efforts of the suit to maintain its internal environment. Nerves. For the most part, he was able to keep it hidden from others who thought he was fearless while leading people into trouble. The truth, however, was that he always fought with a nagging self-doubt. A self-doubt inherited years and years ago.
He motioned for silence, indicated positions for his team - Miranda and Jacob to cover the door while Shepard investigated the pod more closely. A terse nod from both Cerberus operatives, and they moved into position as Shepard disabled the safety on his weapon and shuffled towards the pod, keeping low. The precip was starting to accumulate on the cold metal walkway, the crystals crunching beneath his boots as he approached. Hopefully whatever - or whoever - was inside that pod was not monitoring the situation outside too closely. They'd pick up an approaching Alliance engineer with powered up shields and weapons, and nasty facial scarring to boot. Shepard had seen himself in a mirror since leaving the Cerberus station. Anyone seeing him wouldn't necessarily think "that's a friendly" at first glance. Plus the scars itched and made him irritable. The helmet didn't fit right. He was sweating, and freezing, and working for a shadowy organization for possibly dubious reasons. He had experienced better days in point of fact.
Upon reaching the door, which was locked (typical), Shepard checked over his shoulder. Miranda had positioned herself behind a solid looking piece of discarded equipment with a clear line of fire, some twenty meters back. Smart. Jacob was quite a bit closer, as seemed to be becoming his norm in order to rush to Shepard's aid, but in good cover behind a crate that didn't look explosive...probably. He shrugged mentally. That's what shields were for.
Reaching into a compartment adjacent to his omni-tool, he removed what looked like a translucent vinyl patch with a cable and universal connector attached to it. Plugging the cable into the OT, he "sent" commands neurally down to the unit, causing the patch to seem to vanish in an instant, to be replaced by a glowing orange grid. Shepard grunted his satisfaction after running a couple checks on the assembly, reached over and slapped it onto what seemed the least shielded portion of the door. Antiquated, true...the same thing could be accomplished with the usual field projection on the OT. But the old wired device was nearly impossible to detect by counter-EM scans. The OT began to coalesce data and broadcast it tight-beam to the other squad members as well. The seconds ticked past as he tried to control his breathing, his anticipation. But nothing came. Other than validating the increased EM activity, the OT detected nothing that could be picked out of the noise.
He looked over his shoulder at Jacob with a raised eyebrow. Jacob shrugged, paused, and made a twisting motion with his fingers. Ah. True. Shepard turned his mind more fully onto the OT and observed the power levels being captured by the passively listening patch. He began sweeping known frequencies with pattern detection heuristics, seeking a match among those cataloged by Cerberus' sizable intelligence organization. First priority were races and governments with history of hostility to humans - Batarians, Turians. Geth. Nothing. They had been on station for ten minutes now, much longer and they would have to take a more direct approach. The computer was checking more unlikely sources now...and it stopped, an impression of a match buzzing in his brain as the display read "Quarian, modified, 15% probable (baseline 3%)." Quarian? He looked to Jacob, who shrugged again but seemed more interested and alert. Miranda maintained steady aim on the door and said nothing. A quarian suppression field here on Freedom's Progress?
"Ideas. This is unexpected," Shepard whispered, looking to his team. It felt silly to keep his voice down outside the heavily shielded pod but the situation warranted extreme caution if only for its anomalous nature.
"We're wasting too much time!" hissed Miranda. "The longer we delay here, whatever got to the colonists may be making its way farther from us! Quarian scavengers are unusual so soon after the colony went dark, but I can't say I'm surprised. I hear the fleet is growing desperate for resources. Still," she sounded disgusted, "to pick among the bones of the dead so quickly makes me sick. They'll be armed, but lightly. Let's take them by surprise."
Jacob shook his head. "The force that took the colonists is either long gone or undetectable to our scanners. The source of the emissions in that room might be from elements of that force, or it could be a trap set to slow any investigation team sent. It could be nothing. It could even be quarian scavengers." He squared his shoulders as he faced Miranda, nominally his superior. "I think we can spare the time to be cautious and investigate this further. It's the only lead we have at the moment."
Shepard nodded as he considered the viewpoints of his team. The presence of the field suggested someone or something opposed to being monitored. But who? And who were they worried about encountering with all of the colonists gone? A trap seemed the most likely option. There had been no ships detected, and it didn't make any sense for the group responsible for the disappearance of the colonists to leave behind any forces. If it was indeed a trap, it wasn't going anywhere. There was time to investigate further.
"Give me a few more minutes with this, Miranda...it's probably nothing, but Jacob is right. It's the only thing we've found here so far besides a lot of empty habitats."
Shepard could hear the underlying threat in Miranda's voice when she said, "It's your call, commander." He felt that her trust in his leadership, possibly even her cooperation might hinge on the outcome.
He put the OT's computer to work quickly, analyzing the field with the assumption that it was actually quarian technology as it appeared to be. If it was, it was more heavily modified than any he had seen. It seemed to be rigged to transmit data elsewhere, but as the computer approached detecting the carrier signal, it seemed like it was dancing away, evading a solid fix. Whoever had set this up, it was skillfully done. Somewhat smugly, he thought: clearly, they never expected to encounter someone like me. As the power level shifted away from the analyzed region yet again, Shepard carefully injected noise higher into the frequency band. Fifty-fifty chance of which direction the opponent's algorithm would choose. He guessed right, and almost shouted with vindication as the signal jumped back down from the noise squarely into the computer's sights and was locked in.
The true task had yet to begin, however. It appeared to be encrypted, and not with something a mere omni-tool could decipher. Shepard made a snap decision to risk detection and transmit the data to Typhon's Pride, the Cerberus militia vessel that had accompanied them to the system.
"Orbital control. I'm streaming an encrypted transmission from a noisy habitat module down here. If you get anything, kick it back down to us ASAP."
"Copy, commander. Analyzing now."
More waiting. He suddenly found the seams in the door fascinating rather than turning to witness Miranda's reaction. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.
"Commander, the signal is comprised of a shifting megabit-width cipher with randomized key intervals. We can decrypt some of it, but only small chunks since we are doing this real-time. Sending now."
Control's voice was immediately replaced with horribly loud screeching and electronic noise. The whole team simultaneously reached up to turn their receivers down. With most of the feedback gone, they were rewarded with...mumbling?
"Uh, control..."
"Shepard, wait. Listen!" Miranda interrupted.
Frowning, Shepard listened intently to the noise. It was just that, mostly - noise - but eventually he heard a clipped part of a word. Then another. Nothing he could make out, but it seemed to be Standard with an odd accent. There was a burst of static, then " -ind him, somewhere ne- " followed by a grinding tone. More mumbling, but it definitely sounded like voices, even if they were muddied and scrambled. He picked out two distinct speakers. From the inflection, it sounded like an argument. Static, " -nough time for that. That ship wi- " mumbling. Then, there was a third voice, commanding, higher pitched. A loud "pop!" in his headset, an electric sensation that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Then there was nothing. At all.
"Control, status!" he shouted as he checked the readout on the patch - it was dark.
"Commander, no signal. Advi—" the voice trailed off into a violent burst of static.
Cursing, Shepard ripped the patch from the door, stood and ran from the platform. Too careful, and not careful enough. Several paces away he turned, targeted the lock mechanism with the OT and kicked an overload at it. As the cheap civilian security field disintegrated in a shower of sparks, he shouted orders to his team. Radio was useless now.
"Jacob to the rear, secure that door - Miranda with me, go! Go!"
As he ran back to the platform, he commanded a combat drone from the OT to follow Jacob around the back of the pod. Although the front door was unsecured, it didn't open as he approached. Panting, he searched the surround for...there. He shifted the assault rifle to cradle in his arm and ripped the access panel down, interfacing the tool with the revealed override in the same motion. Shouting and a heavy thud could be heard inside the module now. Had to take them before they could get into well prepared positions. Jacob could be through the back any second, right into an ambush. Cerberus or not, he wasn't going to get his team killed. Not this ti—
Flash. Orbital bombardment. Combat drops shrieking through the burning sky. Bodies of Alliance troopers everywhere, three or four deep anywhere there was an obstruction. The front of his uniform was glistening red - panic - blood, not his. Air torn with uncountable projectiles and energy bolts. Looking down. Radio screaming unheeded calls for reinforcements, medics, evac. Body limp in his arms, glazed eyes looking up, a twisted grin...
"Commander!"
Miranda's voice brought him back to lucidity. His eyes focused as the pod's door ground open, and he registered a sudden splitting headache. He stumbled back a step, grabbed onto the platform's railing.
"Commander..."
He found himself leaning back precariously against a flimsy rail, assault rifle dangling uselessly at his side. Staring down an assault shotgun's tri-barrel and three more assault rifles. Quarians in their ubiquitous body-enveloping suits stood there: four covering him and Miranda, two holding Jacob at gunpoint in the back of the room, face against the wall with his hands on his head. Scavengers? And so heavily armed? He hadn't wanted to believe Miranda's accusation, but she may have been right, and now she was the only one of them left with a shot. She nervously shifted her aim between the four suited figures, eyes darting between them. Shepard could see she was weighing probabilities. He had already finished.
"Stop, Miranda. It's no good."
"Drop it, Cerberus," grated the lead quarian in gray. He gestured at the floor with his weapon. Shepard let the rifle fall. Miranda's eyes were wide, and she held the pistol steady.
"But Shepard, we—"
"Shepard?" a voice somewhere behind him queried. A voice he knew — a white-hot lance of pain shot through his skull before he could complete the thought. Groaning as the world faded and shimmered, darkness closing on his field of vision, he turned as he fell, head in his hands. A moment became a lifetime as the hidden quarian came into view and recognition dawned.
It was Tali'Zorah that crouched besides the picnic table, omni-tool aimed in his direction but lowered slightly from an attack position. A well worn Alliance shotgun propped against the bench. It was hard to tell with the helmet, but he felt the shock, disbelief, and...something else in her eyes. Her suit was as he remembered it, but...no, it was different. The pale light from the two moons illuminated the patterned folds surrounding her helmet. It was beautiful, in a surreal way, this woman prepared to kill him and his team in some colony on the backside of the Terminus systems. But he felt a sadness as he looked at her.
All in an instant.
As he hit the ground and lost consciousness, there were many questions which could be asked. What were the quarians really doing here? What was Tali, in particular, doing here? What would they do to their captives? What did they know about the colonists? But Shepard could only think of one thing as he sank into the welcoming blackness.
How the hell did she get behind me?