Alliance dreadnought SSV Aconcagua

It could have been a lot worse, Sachiko concluded. In fact, she was a bit surprised it was not the case. The marines had led her through the ship to a three-member cabin she was to share with another ensign. The accommodations were quite comfortable, not at all like the spartan cell where she had resided aboard the Bataan: two small desks, the bunks -she had been allotted the upper one-, several storage closets, a VI interface, and a few other amenities.

One of those closets she immediately filled up with her Phantom outfit and its servicing kit, wondering why she had not been required to leave it in the armory along with her sidearm and monomolecular-edged blade, especially when considering the pulse projector on the palm of its glove was a far deadlier weapon than her pistol. Mayhaps it did not work anymore... that would be bad news. She would rather know now whether that was the case. She powered on the armor and ran the diagnostics routine: everything still functioned, up to and including the projector and the cloaking field generator. That only added to her befuddlement.

A few discrete knocks on the door. Sachiko's first impulse was to curse the timing; she did not like to be seen handling her Cerberus gear, new colors or not. A superior officer? No, they would come in without calling. "Hold a minute, please!" she asked as she powered down her suit and stored it. Then she opened the door:

"Oh... it's you." The green eyes immediately grew wary. It was her roommate, she realized, a raven-haired girl of her same rank. She was taller and bulkier than her. "I am Ensign Eugenia Ortiz and will be sharing the cabin with you."

"Sachiko Tanaka," she introduced herself. "Excuse me, I was just storing my gear." She gestured at her half-disassembled luggage. Ortiz appraised her new roommate: a bit over five feet, lean figure, black hair scrupulously tied on a single queue, large sloe Asian eyes. Her body language proclaimed superlative self-confidence and self-knowledge. Is this the Cerberus girl?

"It's okay," Ortiz dismissed the comment. She was obviously unsettled by her and remained in silence a bit while Tanaka stored her gear.

She did not turn her head to say: "Ortiz, if I make you uncomfortable, best you tell me here and now."

The Alliance officer did not expect that. Not hostile words, not friendly either. "Yes, you do, but I'm hoping to learn better than that."

Now Tanaka looked at her. "Good to know. Now, tell me what's bothering you."

"I know about you and what you are."

She shrugged. "Not another freshly graduated ensign such as you, I understand."

A surge of indignation sparked briefly in Ortiz's eyes. It had not been said unkindly, Tanaka was merely stating the obvious. "It's true, this is my first tour." She briefly hesitated, but Sachiko's eyes encouraged her to continue: "I don't want a roommate I can't trust. I want to know about you."

"Me neither. So ask away."

Ortiz shuffled uncomfortably. "Why did you join them?"

The former Phantom had plenty of experience answering that question. The answer came easily to her now. "I was young and angry. The Council treated us with contempt and intervened in our affairs when it suited them. Nobody would help us but themselves. So I wanted to take matters into my own hands." She locked the closet. "That was before Sovereign raided the Citadel. And even after we had to come to their rescue we were left to our own, colonies started vanishing without a trace... felt kind of vindicated for joining when that started happening."

Ortiz walked in. Sachiko's words echoed many thoughts she had entertained while younger. Her own uncle had died on the first battle for the Citadel. "And then?"

"And then I got the most of my training. We were to take the fight to them, a special task force was being put together for that."

"You fought the Collectors."

Tanaka shook her head. "By the time I was ready they had already been dealt with."

Had I been a few years older and bolder... she would have followed Tanaka's path. Still she could not empathize with her. "And what happened to you?"

"We went through another round of training. They pulled less punches." Her voice grew quieter. "I don't recall much. We were indoctrinated, that thing Reapers did to control their minions." She turned her head to face her. "Anything else you wanted to know?"

The rookie ensign thought she caught a glimpse of anger as Tanaka stonewalled... or was it regret? In either case, she had told a great deal to be the first time they met. Take it slow, she told herself. "Thank you for telling me."

Is she supposed to keep an eye on me, Sachiko wondered. She did not know, but had to be on guard nonetheless. Honesty would be no defense on this extended trial she was about to face. Not that she was innocent. There was blood on her hands that would never come off, indoctrinated or not. The Hades program had been no penance for all the Alliance and Citadel people she had gutted. On the contrary, it had exacerbated the burden of those dead on her soul.

Probably that's why they released me. Indoctrination had suppressed her free will, but not her conscience.

She wanted to be trusted, but begging would not do there.

"Anytime, Ortiz." She stood up and looked at the alarm clock. It was set on Earth time, and read 18:52. She was not supposed to be on duty until the next day at 5 AM. She reached for a small bag. "I'm going for a workout. Need to tire myself out."

She left her roommate to dwell on her words and walked into the narrow corridors, making her way to one of the PT barracks. She had half-expected to be glared at by the crew, but to most she was just another ensign. There were knowing looks at her still, but those were few. Whenever that was the case she held the glare, never casting her eyes aside, until she walked past the onlooker. She could not show weakness, not even on as simple a challenge as that.

She arrived at the PT barracks, picked the third treadmill out of the six, and started running. The marine to her left regarded her with a single glance. "Evenin'", he greeted casually.

"Good evening." Her instincts told her to keep her guard up. Her black eyes scanned the large room. About fifteen other men and women were exercising themselves. There was the usual assortment of weight lifting machinery, plus treadmills, bicycles, and other similar devices used for fitness. Beyond these, a large mat used for hand-to-hand combat training, and a boxing ring where a man and a woman were exchanging blows, a small group of onlookers on a side.

She had ran perhaps for some twenty-odd minutes when the onlookers cheered. She felt a twinge of curiosity-but before looking there she glanced all around her -the marine to her left had turned his head towards the noise and briefly glanced at her curiously- and only then did she look. The male fighter was on the floor, struggling to stand up. She allowed herself a look at the victorious woman: blonde, about five-seven, in good shape. Her shrewd eyes noted that most of the men around looked at her with guarded desire. She was good-looking indeed, with a pleasing oval-shaped face, ample bosom and shapely legs. Sachiko briefly wondered if the man had let her win.

At that same time three men entered the barracks. Immediately their eyes were fixated upon her. She recognized them: they all had stared at her on her way there. She was instantly on guard.

The bald, black man on the middle of the trio hollered hoarsely, keeping his smoldering brown eyes on her all the while: "Hey Johanssen! Did you know who's our newest recruit?"

The blond woman helped her opponent stand and dried her face with a towel. "There's a batch of rookies, I heard. Why?"

"We got a real hotshot running on that tread here. One of the Cerberus vets."

At once everyone looked at her. She kept running, dismissing how stifling the atmosphere had become - but, again, her eyes never wavering from the black marine's.

"So what, Fisher? You afraid of getting 'indoctrinated' too?" A few amused grunts echoed the comment as she pronounced the words with venom in her voice. There had been an implicit challenge for her on that. She knew how this would end - Fisher and Johanssen would keep pretending to exchange insults with each other, while at the same time whipping the onlookers closer and closer to a frenzy where she would be ganged up on with no chance of winning without killing someone.

She had to put an end to that, right now. She stepped down from the treadmill and in one single, deceivingly fluid motion, stabbed for Fisher's throat with her fingers - stopping half an inch away. The man was shocked with surprise. "You have something to say, let's hear it. Up there." Without expecting a reply she worked her way through the barracks to the ring, leaving the rest of the marines slightly surprised because of her bravado. She climbed atop the ring and waited.

Johanssen looked at the Cerberus veteran with grim amusement as Fisher approached. If anything, she had balls, issuing such a challenge and walking among all of Fisher's comrades and friends without so much as a glance. She appraised her, much like Ortiz had done before, then glanced at the black marine with well concealed concern: This time he's bit off more than he can chew... or hasn't he...

It took Tanaka a brief glance to dissect Fisher on the spot: a strong, fit adversary, but one not in her league skill-wise, and partly blinded by hatred as well. Angry. That was how she liked her foes. It made them all the more prone to making mistakes.

"Just because I'm nice, I'm stopping on first blood." Fisher spoke the taunt with a smirk. His friends echoed him:

"Show her, Fisher!"

"Kick her Cerberus ass!"

Her eyes were glacial. "I'm not nice." That said, she advanced, taunting his fists. She dodged one punch, then another, and parried a third blow with a flick of her wrist. She had barely tensed. Fisher stepped back, aware now that his adversary was skilled beyond her deceptively small frame, then tried a new tack. Another burst of punches, which she easily dodged and parried, then crouch and go for a headbutt-but she was not there. His attack met thin air, leaving him exposed to her riposte, but she did nothing. Other than smirking.

"Stand still, you bitch!" he snarled angrily. Another punch she parried aside. Her smile grew broader, driving him all the more furious-

-until after another missed punch she slid past him, smashing his neck with the rigid side of her hand. The impact choked the breath out of him. Before he could recover she already had his head on a vise, and slowly dragged him down to the ground. He struck the floor with his open hand, conceding the fight, but the grip grew tighter. He kept hitting the floor, now with both hands: "You win! You win, alright-?" he coughed as he grasped for breath.

Then she let him go. He lay on the floor, retching for a few seconds, while she watched him like a hawk for signs of treachery. At the same time her ears were on her surroundings. The only sounds came from the working machinery on the ship. Nobody moved.

As soon as Fisher looked up again, she held out an open hand. "Never do that again," she admonished him. "You let your anger get the best of you. And challenging an adversary blindly will get you killed." Only now did she flex her biotic muscle. Her eyes and body went ablaze with blue fire. Everyone jumped back in surprise.

With a yank she helped Fisher stand. The man's eyes were dour but humble. "You're right, miss. You should have kicked my ass."

Sachiko shook her head. "And gain what? Someone who'd slit my throat at the first chance? I'm not exactly liked."

Delta 9 relay

"We caught an interloper on the outer perimeter," Val'Akar was saying. "An Eclipse escort-class vessel."

"I don't remember telling Eclipse to scout ahead." Given the slow cadence and low tone of her words, the quarian knew someone around Aria would be quaking with dread. He could picture what would happen next: she would demand -and get- the head of whomever had let the data slip out of the net. If anything, the asari was ruthless. There were advantages to that approach.

"I supposed not. I'm forwarding the profiles of the ship and the crew to you. We have them all into custody."

"Surprisingly efficient on your part, I have to say." T'Loak changed subjects: "I've already dispatched most of my fleet. They shouldn't be long. It should take them about three standard days to get there."

"Good to know. We will stand around." He cut communication without further words. There was little love lost between each other, just a mutual -and grudging- respect for each other's qualities.

"When she realizes we're building our station here she won't like it," the engineering chief cautioned.

"She can bitch and whine all that she wants," Val'Akar retorted gruffly. "And she won't mean a single bit of it. On the contrary, she'll see it as an ideal excuse to shift the burden of watching over this place to us." The captain was angry. That the Admiralty had gone forward and committed resources and permanent manpower to this place galled him.

Of course, anybody willing to trust the chief smuggler of the Terminus Systems with such a responsibility for long would be out of his mind, but why had his race stepped first to asume the 'mantle of guardianship' was beyond his understanding. Perhaps they wanted colonization rights for the first habitable world found on the other side of the relay, if it led to unknown regions of the galaxy? We can't even settle half of Rannoch! Mineral rights? It made no sense. Their number was so tiny when compared to other races. The systems encompassing Haestrom, Uriyah and other former colonies held enough untapped mineral resources to keep the quarian needs covered for decades. Exploration rights? Possible. If there were Prothean ruins on the other side of the relay and there still was salvageable tech there, then it probably was worth the expense... but it was a huge gamble. Prothean ruins like the huge compound of Ilos and the librarium on Mars were very few and far between across the galaxy.

The thoughts chased each other back and forth on Val'Akar's head. "Legion," he asked on impulse, "give me some motives for the geth to build a station here."

"Acknowledged." The synthetic remained silent for a few seconds, no doubt gathering input from its fellow geth onboard the ship. "Primary reason for building an installation would be to secure local space from unknown threats that could jump to this side of the relay, though given its currently deactivated status that reason is invalid. An alternative would be to have an outpost in place to ease exploration of unknown space beyond this relay." The android turned to face him. "Akar-commander, from what we have gathered from creator society and other organic nations, political and economical reasons could come into play, though in your particular case those reasons are also moot. There is plenty of room and resources in worlds within current creator space boundaries to expand. Some considerations could arise, though, if discovered worlds or resources were to be used for leverage."

Nothing new there. The answer had been delivered quickly and efficiently, and for some reason that irritated Val'Akar some more. He hated not to understand.

One of the consoles beeped. The intelligence officer tapped his omni-tool, and then: "Sir? I have a ciphered communiqué from the Admiralty."

"Forward it."

"It's not verbal, sir. It's a heads-up. The Citadel is dispatching a Spectre with the Admiralty's blessing. They'll be here within two days."

The Citadel? "I recall there is no Council yet appointed."

"You're correct, sir. Terran admiral Hackett holds executive powers with the consent of the Council races."

"So this means this Hackett is sending a Spectre."

"I would not say so that quickly, sir," the officer cautioned. "The Spectres respond to the Council and only to them. Even with terrans having played such a critical role on the Reaper War, I do not see the rest of the Citadel races agreeing to invest a single human with all the prerogatives of the Council. Probably the decision was taken by mutual consent."

"Identity?"

"Unknown, sir. It's not specified on the message. They only said the Spectre would be cleared by the Admiralty to conduct its business here."

"A goodwill gesture to get back into the Council's good graces," Val'Akar mumbled. The idea rankled him. The Council had left them to their own when the geth had rebelled. But that was a mistake of our own making, Val'Akar forced himself to remember, a gross violation of the codicils regulating AI development. And our attitude when they became sentient was no better. He still remembered the vid-feeds Tali'Zorah had ordered distributed, feeds recovered by Shepard upon hacking into a geth mainframe. Watching that had been a gut-wrenching ordeal. That was not at all as they had been told. Many uncomfortable questions had been asked after that day.

By the corner of his eye he saw Legion's lantern-head bobbing quickly, in almost birdlike fashion. Then: "Akar-commander, we have discovered a quantum-entanglement communicator aboard the Eclipse ship."

Val'Akar swore and turned to the navigation officer: "Bring the whole task force to a level 2 general alert. Battle stations."

"Yes sir!" At once alarm sirens began blaring all over the ship.

The commander asked Legion, "Condition of the device?"

"Poor, but recoverable, Akar-commander. We should be able to reconstruct the information sent."

"Good news for a change. Excellent work, Legion."

"Someone went through a lot of expense to outfit such small a ship with a QEC," the intel chief noted.

"And that someone is aware of the forces we have here." But who would that be? And who could be interested so on this relay?

Someone who, unlike us, is hungry for unsettled worlds and raw materials... he did the math quickly in his brain. The Council races had plenty of reason to want more minerals, with all the reconstruction efforts going on, but were also the ones most aware of the hazards involving an unknown relay. The batarians were down to a fraction of their old strength, and whatever remained of their fleet could not hope to stand up to the quarian forces. The krogans, while hungry on both counts, had but a meagre flotilla of transports and lightweight escorts, again not a challenge for them. The volus had little reason to worry as a turian protectorate. About the hanar and drell, he knew little, but did not believe that they could pose a threat either. He went over it all again, knowing he had missed something...

I'm looking at it from too high a perspective. Who would be capable of this kind of sleight of hand?

Asari, salarians and terrans.

The Citadel

"And so," Hackett pronounced tiredly as he took seat behind the desk, "here we are again, picking people for an assignment that can potentially change the galaxy."

Mikhailovich sat on the opposite side. "Anderson and Udina picked Shepard."

His superior grumbled. "You know what I mean. Don't get uptight with me on the specifics." He tapped his secure tablet computer. "How did Hades turn out?"

"So far, satisfactorily. We have some encouraging reports. It was a good move to have them undergo the program. I'm getting some rumbles from officers..."

"That was to be expected. No career officer would welcome an ex Cerberus with open arms."

Mikhailovich grunted an agreement. "It's official, then? You want to send a team through the Delta 9 relay?"

"We have to. Who knows what kind of abomination could come through it. We have to be able to keep it secure from the other side at least." A small pause. "And I want to put the results of Hades to test." Immediately he saw a flash of disagreement on Mikhailovich's face. "We have to do this sometime. Recruiting troops that cannot be trusted only means further expense. And all Hades subjects acquitted themselves against Reaper forces."

"I know, I know, you're absolutely right. There's about ten names worth looking out on that dossier."

"Who'd you tap for evaluating them?"

"As experienced an N7 operative as we can get." Excluding Shepard.

Of course. "That would mean Vega."

The doorbell rang. "Come in!"

A lieutenant came in and saluted. "Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but a high-priority message for you just came in." She walked over to the desk, handed over the secure tablet, saluted again, and left.

Hackett let the device scan his retina and DNA and quickly digested the information. "We'll have to move quickly with this. The quarians stationed on the relay picked up a snooper. Someone else's on the know."

His subordinate's eyes hardened. "We had a leak."

A grunt. "Or there was a leak on T'Loak's side."

"I hate having to rely on a criminal kingpin for this."

"I'm not going to have this argument again," Hackett stated with finality. They had already argued over her, but Shepard had been right: she was merciless, kept everyone working for her on a tight leash - and since almost every business on the Terminus Systems went through Omega, this meant most of that region was somewhat stable. Not to mention that bringing her down would be extremely hard and detrimental to the safety of neighboring Citadel space on an equal degree. Nobody wanted a war of succession to erupt on Terminus. "Order Vega here ASAP. And get me a QEC link with Shepard."

Elsewhere on the Citadel, Miranda Lawson was savoring a mint tea as she sat next to a table overlooking the Presidium commons, studying (or was it 'studying'?) some information on her tablet. Her expert eyes needed no concealment behind shades to remain a mystery. They revealed nothing. Not even a flicker of interest as they dissected every bystander and passerby that pursed the kiosks of the markets to her left or conversed on other tables around her.

A great deal of these were humans, which was of course only obvious given the new location of the Citadel, though citizens of all races and breeds swarmed the commons. There were no traces of the damage sustained on the assault her former agency had staged, nor of the methodical 'sanitization' -there was practically no other term to describe it- carried on by the Reapers, other than a series of plaques and memorials, one of which was almost directly in front of her. The dynamic weather systems of the Citadel were now tuned to a pleasant dusk-like intensity, which would fade into a starry night in the course of the next two hours or so. Sitting there, in such a mundane environment, she would appear thus to be just another woman enjoying some rest, if not for the heads that turned constantly to feed on such elegant beauty.

She was tired of it. Last time the Normandy had been on leave here she had had yet another opportunity to gauge how people reacted to other, less magnetic members of its crew. Chambers and Trayvon, the yeomen, had merrily shopped their way all over the place without so much as a couple of glances, which they merited in any case because they had good looks of their own. Even so, they were, in a way, nobodies. It was not Miranda's case. Her charm was on a league all of her own, and the people that continuously stole looks at her were constant reminders of that fact.

A charm that had yielded her little. Taylor had moved on to form a life with a former Cerberus scientist; she was godmother to their first son. Shepard and T'Soni had a daughter of their own. Both children were cruel reminders of joys she would never have.

Her current post as executive officer aboard the Normandy, contrary to thought, had done a little to soothe that pain. She could not blame her former lover for rekindling a relationship with the asari. She had always regarded Liara as a giant of a person that had preserved her sensitivity and empathy despite all the reasons her incredible job and the crumbling galaxy around her gave her to surrender to cynicism. And Liara knew of her respect, and her pains. It was impossible not to; careful as Miranda was to keep her affairs to herself, she had had no illusions about her capability to conceal them from the very Shadow Broker.

And Liara had confided on her for help with her daughter, almost to the point of making a surrogate mother out of Miranda in the process. She had allowed herself to be roped into it, knowing that Liara was aware of her longing for such an experience and hardly believing her -and Shepard's?- incredible generosity. For she knew the asari was willingly sharing motherhood with her, someone she had once seen as a rival.

Would that also imply that she acknowledged her affections towards her spouse? Miranda dared not ask the question, however strong her attraction -no, feelings, she corrected herself- towards Shepard; she feared that doing so would shatter it all. She was absolutely certain Liara could read her like a book, but made no comment on the issue, even if the limits between them were growing increasingly blurry.

Then her eyes caught a drell appearing from a corridor and stepping into the promenade, and she automatically boxed her emotions into a small compartment. Work was at hand. The reptilian alien walked casually up to her, and sat on the opposing chair without preamble.

"Found anything you liked?" She asked with half a smile.

"Some beautiful black pearls," he replied, casually producing a small jewelry container from a pocket of his coat.

"Those must have been expensive."

"Europa-grown pearls are." The sequence complete, they both relaxed, though neither showed it. She approved mentally of the choice. The drell was lean, wiry-looking; his eyes were piercing even from behind the dark shades he was wearing. It was to be expected from a shooter. They made innocuous conversation for a while, measuring each other's worth in the process.

Jondar Krayt had been told by Bau, the salarian Spectre whose retinue of agents he had managed for some time now, that the former Cerberus second-in-command would be briefing him for this mission. It had been a rare opportunity to gauge her skills; even if her file described the gene-tailored biotic as a 'brilliant officer with single-minded dedication to her job', Miranda Lawson had been shadowed by her boss first and her former lover next, and been successful at remaining inconspicuous. Extraordinarily so, he judged, given the looks she attracted. Those did not escape him. The nuances of human sex appeal were not completely lost on him, but he had no such inclinations.

After a glance and a tacit agreement they both stood up and made their way to a parking lot. She jumped first into her aircar and let him up on the passenger side. Two minutes of driving and they were lost into the massive traffic of the Citadel; then, she merely tossed him her secure tablet. He quickly scanned it.

"I'm to be the Spectres' agent sent to this new relay?" he asked matter-of-factly.

A curt nod on her part. "Bau has had you cleared you for promotion as a full-fledged Spectre pending your success on this assignment. He explicitly wanted me to tell you that."

Krayt's eyes returned to the tablet. It was unheard of, for Spectres to commission a new one by themselves. But an entire standard year without a proper Council appointed was also unheard of, however contrary to common sense it appeared. "Are the quarians supposed to lend an agent of their own as well?"

"There's been no word on that, but it's quite likely. They have a stake of their own on the place." That last line just had to be wrong. What could the quarians possibly need from an unexplored region of space was beyond her understanding, but she did not need to know the reason to do her job. If anything, that was a bait to test his reaction.

In this case it was merely a shrug. "No intelligence at all on what's on the other side of that relay."

"Not a hint."

"It merits some thinking... if the Reapers were there before us then they have already sweeped the place clean of intelligent life."

Miranda had already pondered on the issue, of course. The question she could not answer was quite another: if they were there, why is it turned off? They had never bothered to conceal their tracks, so inevitable had they considered their triumph. Do I share this with him? She had not been given any instructions otherwise, and besides, he would see everything there was to see by himself when -and if- he jumped to the other side. "This is personal speculation, but I believe there's a chance they missed this place."

Krayt glanced askance at her, then went carefully in his mind through the information on the tablet computer. "Because it's not active."

An approving nod. "Correct."

He quickly reviewed the data Bau had made available to him concerning the history of the mass relays. "Could it be that this relay was not constructed by the Reapers?"

Now it was Miranda's turn to look at him by the corner of her eye. "Interesting. Care to ellaborate?"

"The Protheans constructed a prototype relay on their own on Ilos," he explained, alluding to the Conduit. "What if that's not the only relay they built?"

She slightly frowned. "That seems unlikely to me. The Conduit was built while the Reapers were harvesting the Protheans. How could they emplace another relay in the void of space, so far away from Ilos?"

The drell bowed his head, conceding that his theory had holes. "Unlikely, but not impossible. We only learned of the Conduit from the Ilos installation. And then your commander rescued a live Prothean on Eden Prime." There is only so much we know, Krayt was implying.

Miranda had to agree. "It's worth giving some thought," she spoke quietly.