MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR
*Episode Three*
Chellick's jaw moved slowly as he methodically chewed a piece of seasoned meat. Time was always short and he'd recently taken to breakfast in the form of the strips of cured jerky, though as it was he could barely taste anything at all. All of his senses were focused solely on the enormous monitor that swallowed the far wall of the command centre.
'Camera one-two-two. Reverse eighteen, hold,' he said with his mouth full, squinted as the picture sharpened. He swallowed his food and nodded at the screen. 'Right there.'
'Holding,' Milo replied from his desk in the middle tiers as he manipulated his terminal with honed precision, 'Two tags, one marked as blue.'
Chellick looked on as the main monitor filled with security footage of a densely knotted group of civilians milling near the main elevator to Citadel Tower. The identity markers in question referred to a pair of humans, appearing as two brightly coloured triangles laid over the footage.
Their positioning had looked conspicuous to Chellick's practised eye, though the identification of one as a plainclothes C-Sec officer eased his suspicions.
'Good,' he finally remarked, 'Send out a general notice to everyone in the area. They're there to be our eyes on the ground, not stand around chatting with their friends.'
'Roger, Sir,' Milo acknowledged with a smirk, 'I'll let them know the sewing circle is officially broken up.'
Chellick nodded, satisfied. He left the constant monitoring of security staff to his subordinates for the most part but he found it useful to take the occasional hand in the more mundane proceedings.
The command centre's main dais was designed as such, inspired as it was by the bridges of turian warships, with the captains occupying a raised platform to overlook their personnel. Even so, it was impossible for any one person to supervise all that went on in JSTF. The task force had access to every surveillance system on the Citadel and reports were fed into the centre by the second. Omni-tools would beep in alarm every minute as new pieces of high-level intel were received, piercing the constant hum of voices as analysts conversed with their peers or agents on the ground.
Chellick found comfort in the buzzing ambience. After working in a confined office hidden away in the filth of the wards for so many years, the opportunity to lead such a team was a refreshing challenge. Since he'd taken the assignment the feeling had only grown, and now he found himself hungry with an ambition he'd forgotten he possessed.
He took a deep draught of air through his nostrils and grimaced immediately as the smell of coffee entered his senses. He didn't know what humans saw in the stuff, especially if it tasted as rotten as it smelled.
'Chellick!' Lorica shouted.
He looked over his shoulder to find the asari standing over her desk with a worried expression. She held two fingers clamped over her communicator earpiece, pressing it into her flesh.
'We've got a priority transmission coming through from central,' she said, 'Get this - it's on a closed channel from inside Citadel Tower itself!'
'What? Are you sure?' Chellick asked, frowning. It was odd enough the transmission was coming from Citadel Tower but that it had been transferred to them by C-Sec's central control sent a pang of worry through him. It must have been deemed important enough to warrant their immediate attention. 'Who is it? The Council? One of the ground teams?'
'No,' she replied, 'The signal's weak but it's definitely coming from the tower's sub-levels, in the maintenance tunnels. There's a lot of interference, though. I can't get a fix on the location and I don't know how long they'll be able to transmit.'
'Establish a connection and put them on speaker,' Chellick ordered as he descended from the middle platform and briskly made his way to Lorica's desk.
The analyst worked fast, her fingers a blur as she tapped rapidly on the terminal's amber keypad. A moment later the air was filled with a harsh crackle and she worked furiously to refine the signal into something audible.
'Channel's open,' she said as Chellick drew alongside her, leaning over her desk.
'Attention, whoever this is,' he said sternly, 'This is the commander of C-Sec's Joint Security Task Force. Identify yourself immediately.'
A female voice, tinny and heavy with static, burst across the command centre and many looked up instantly as they were hit by her delirious panic, 'Hello? Can you hear me? Oh, thank the Goddess, I can't believe it! You can really hear me?'
'Yes, we can hear you,' Chellick replied, his impatience checked by the unmistakable terror in the woman's voice, 'Please, calm down and tell us who you are.'
'I'm sorry,' she said between deep, ragged breaths, 'My name is I'Layna Naris, I work for the Citadel Council. You have to help me, I'm in danger. He's right outside the door!'
'Who's outside the door?' asked Chellick, 'Who's after you?'
The room grew quiet in anticipation as I'Layna took a moment to try and compose. 'I'm...I'm not sure who he is. I only know he's a turian. I ran into him in the residence halls but something about him seemed odd so I followed him down here. I watched as he…he did something… He started cutting into the walls and…and…'
Chellick tensed. 'And what, I'Layna? What did the turian do?'
'He…' she stammered, fear and disbelief stalling her as she tried to explain, 'He…put something in the wall, a box of some kind. I think it might have been a bomb or something because it suddenly started beeping. Then he saw me so I ran away, but now I'm trapped in here.'
Lorica and Chellick exchanged a look of terrified shock and the entire command centre grew silent. This was the real thing, they realised, a true terrorist threat - and the suspect had almost succeeded in carrying it out unnoticed.
Chellick closed his eyes. This witness was now their only lead on a confirmed attack and he needed as much information as possible.
'All right, I'Layna,' he said as calmly as he could, 'I need details. Where is this man now? Can you identify exactly where you are, where he planted the bomb?'
'I'm not sure,' she responded, 'When he chased me I just ran, I didn't pay attention to where I was going. I only know I'm in some kind of room, a maintenance storage bay by the looks of it. There are tools, lockers, nothing remarkable. As for the turian, I think he's still outside, he's…wait-'
The air stalled in Chellick's lungs as she hesitated and her voice plunged into fear once again, 'I hear something on the other side of the door, some kind of scratching! Is that an omni-tool?'
The noise could be heard faintly over the speakers and Lina immediately bounded across the room, taking position at Lorica's other shoulder.
'It sounds like the suspect's trying to hack the door,' the quarian said quietly, not wanting to alarm I'Layna, 'She needs to cut the power manually to stop him.'
Nodding his head, Chellick stepped away from the desk to allow Lina to speak.
'I'Layna, my name is Lina'Gerrel Nar Korshan, I'm here to help you. Listen to me very carefully. The turian is attempting to bypass the lock on the door but you can stop him.'
'By the Goddess,' I'Layna sobbed, 'He's going to kill me, isn't he? I'm going to die in here!'
Lina slammed the palm of her hand on Lorica's desk in desperation. 'I'Layna, get a hold of yourself! I can help you keep the door closed but you need to think clearly and follow my every instruction, do you understand?' A faint sobbing crackled through the air and Lina raised her voice, 'Tell me you understand!'
'Yes!' I'Layna cried out, 'Yes, I understand! I'm sorry, just please tell me what to do!'
'Okay, do you see the small panel just to the right of the door's centre? There should be a red arrow printed on it.'
'Yes, I see it,' the asari said, her voice strengthening, 'I'm opening it now.'
'Good. You should see several wires leading into the main power board - that's the big circuit on the left. One of those wires will be red. Disconnect that one from its socket.'
Chellick could only observe in mute suspense as Lina continued to guide I'Layna, her firm tone ringing out as the rest of the team went about their work with renewed purpose.
Their options were few, he realised. It would take hours to fully evacuate Citadel Tower and even longer to find the bomb, let alone defuse it. They had to keep this woman alive at all costs. If she perished then the identity of the terrorist, as well as the location of the bomb, would die with her.
~~~ME-I~~~
'Did I make an idiot of myself?' Arlen asked, 'With Lina, I mean?'
His head lay nestled firmly in the palm of his hand, his elbow propped against the window of the shuttle's passenger seat.
Garrus glanced at Arlen's embarrassed expression and a smile crept onto his lips. 'Yeah, but don't worry,' he said wistfully, 'The Citadel's a big place. We'll be meeting plenty more aliens for you to stutter and mumble at soon enough.'
'Oh. Wonderful.'
Shaking his head, Arlen turned his gaze to the sweeping view of the Presidium outside his window. The shuttle coasted along in a slow, loose trail of traffic that wound its way along the inner edge of the colossal ringed structure which housed the district. It was an amazing sight, one that not many in the galaxy ever had the chance to see.
'I always thought I'd enjoy the opportunity to meet new races,' Arlen murmured as his eyes flitted back and forth, taking in the distant scenery, 'So far though, it's just been plain awkward. Did you have that problem when you first started?'
Garrus chuckled softly. 'Man, I can't even remember back that far. Maybe all that paperwork degraded my memory in some way, or it's slowly sending me crazy, but I don't recall those early years too well.'
'It can't be that bad,' Arlen replied but the comment brought only a subtle, knowing laugh from his partner.
'They all say that until they've filed their hundredth DUI. No, you'll see what I mean. The red tape tends to cloud things, make all those months and years blur together into one. In fact, all I do remember from those days is my father saying how proud he was and how glad he was to see me following in his footsteps. To be honest, I don't think there was anything else on my mind at the time.'
'You were close to him?' Arlen asked tentatively, not wanting to overstep his bounds.
'As close as a rebellious young man could be,' Garrus replied with a shrug, 'I can't say I justified the old man's pride in me by the end, though. He was always a C-Sec man through and through and he never approved of the way I went about the job.'
Arlen did not want to say it but he knew exactly what Garrus meant. His new partner was the mirror opposite of the example of service and honour that was drummed into every turian since childhood. To Arlen it felt odd to be simply permitted to relax without being chastised and he wondered if it was something particular to Garrus or if he would find it the same in the Interceptors.
'I can see why your father would object,' he said without malice, 'Your methods aren't exactly what I'd call orthodox. That stunt you pulled in your office with the pistol would have gotten any academy instructor removed from their position in a heartbeat.'
Garrus grinned ironically. 'You're not the first one to say that by any stretch. I've been pulled into Pallin's office more times than I can remember for all kinds of infractions. Most of them harmless. Still, sometimes the only way to learn is the hard way. You'll be grateful for it one day. I know I am.'
Arlen did not reply and simply stared out the window, observing as the Presidium drifted by. He still did not agree with Garrus' logic and chose that moment to take his new weapon from its holster, hefting it in one hand as he looked it over.
The Striker II really was vastly different from his old Kessler and his eyes followed its faded blue lines with a look of quiet disappointment. It was like everything else in the Citadel; new, unfamiliar and requiring of a great effort to get used to. Already he could sense the greater weight at the end of the barrel and he winced uncomfortably at the feel of it.
With a gentle huff of annoyance, he turned to the Presidium once more.
The place had an almost hypnotic effect on him. Everything, from the sweeping white arches to the smatterings of trees and reservoirs brought a sense of peace he'd never known before. It was a far gentler beauty than Palaven and the virtual opposite of his home colony of Edessa, with its tumultuous winds that constantly churned with ash tossed up by the planet's many volcanoes.
The Presidium's artificial sky, sunless though it was, gleamed with crisp clouds that wandered lazily across the clear blue expanse. Truly, he thought to himself in wonderment, the Citadel is a miracle.
A question crossed his thoughts and his gaze drifted back to Garrus. He hesitated, as if asking would earn him a reprimand, 'What...was that between you and Chellick? Back in the command centre, I mean? It almost sounded like he was making fun of you.'
He expected a backlash or a look of fierce disapproval at the very least but what he saw instead was just as unnerving.
Garrus smiled, his eyes growing distant with a lingering, burning anger and several moments passed before he replied, 'I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. No doubt you'll hear it from someone else soon enough, and with more drama than I'd care to add.'
Although his tone was casual, the deeper meaning of Garrus' statement was not lost on Arlen he nodded slowly, understanding the trust being placed in him.
'It was about a year ago,' Garrus began, 'Chellick and I were working a case together investigating a salarian geneticist named Doctor Saleon. I'll spare you the details, but to cut a long story short he was growing organs inside living hosts for sale on the black market.'
'Living hosts?' Arlen asked, gaping in disgust, 'That's…that's sick!'
'You don't know the half of it,' Garrus muttered grimly, 'After a long investigation we finally caught a break and had the evidence we needed to arrest the bastard. Only problem was he escaped in an old freighter with his lab equipment and enough test subjects to start all over again.'
'What? Didn't they track him?'
Garrus dipped his head and his tone grew cold. 'No, at least not for long. By the time he got away, Patrol said it was outside their jurisdiction and Pallin refused to send Interceptors after him, said the fugitive wasn't important enough to justify that kind of response. To them Saleon was just another small-time crook who wasn't worth their effort.'
Arlen's mouth hung open. To think that C-Sec would let such a dangerous individual roam free was unconscionable.
'Didn't they at least try to stop the ship?' he asked.
'Well, they would have if it wasn't for Chellick,' Garrus said bitterly, 'I advised a patrolling frigate that Saleon was making his escape and they were all set to fire until Chellick cut in, ordering them to stand down. His authority superseded mine and so the frigate backed off, allowing Saleon to get away.'
A chill fluttered down Arlen's spine. He could not have imagined there would be such division, such clashing of personalities and priorities among people who were meant to be working together. It was the antithesis of what turians were supposed to stand for.
'He made his patronising little speech,' Garrus went on, 'He told me how they couldn't risk the lives of the hostages on board. I argued that those people were already dead, that Saleon would murder a lot more if we allowed him to escape but no, Chellick had already gotten Pallin on his side. I was taken off the investigation after that and Saleon disappeared. Nobody's even bothered looking for him since.'
Many questions jostled for space in Arlen's mind but his thoughts were interrupted as Garrus' suit radio chimed insistently.
'Lina? What's wrong?' Garrus asked as he slipped into a professionalism that completely masked the anger of moments before. His expression was severe and humourless, and he frowned at what he heard before turning the shuttle away sharply from the snaking traffic lane. 'Copy that, we're on our way.'
'Is something wrong?' Arlen asked as the car's siren blared out, sending nearby shuttles veering out of their way in a panic.
'There's a situation over at Citadel Tower and we're closest to the scene,' Garrus answered before turning to Arlen and throwing a glance at the recruit's new pistol. 'Looks like you could be using that thing sooner than we expected.'
~~~ME-I~~~
General Jardan Krassus' eyes were filled with the rich, warm glow of the Zorya sunset as the golden orb descended over distant peaks. The mountains were carpeted in bright green jungles while low valleys swept below them, already dark as the day's final light disappeared.
The old turian watched his breath mist on the window glass, though the planet's heat quickly stole the film of water and it vanished instantly, leaving only a reflection of silver skin and rigid patterns of blue paint.
The savage beauty of Zorya never ceased to leave Krassus breathless yet beneath its gorgeous vistas and lush foliage lurked some of the fiercest and most ferocious creatures he had ever seen in his thirty-five years of service. It was a wonder that any form of civilization could be kept on such a hostile world, though his own presence there had been bought and paid for with blood and vigilance.
His eyes wandered down to the compound's high walls. The thick construction bristled with grids of deadly lasers and large guard towers, silent sentinels that could unleash torrents of artillery fire within seconds.
The door to his quarters opened behind him and he didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
'Yes, Avitus?'
Avitus Varn drew a hand along his light brown mandibles, wiping off the excess moisture that had a tendency to gather in Zorya's humid climate. After a twitch of displeasure he quickly straightened and strode over to Krassus.
'Sir,' he announced coldly, 'We have an urgent communication coming in from the Citadel.'
'Crixus?' asked Krassus, his voice touched with concern. He knew it could only be his most trusted centurion and yet he had to ask, if only to confirm his fears. Crixus was not supposed to report in for at least three more days and the prematurity of the contact brought a hard knot to the general's stomach.
'Yes, Sir,' Varn said grimly. The tribune dipped his head morosely, his body exuding a moment of sadness in spite of his best efforts to combat it. 'Comms have transferred the signal to your private terminal. Would you prefer me to leave?'
Krassus grunted and turned to face his second in command. 'You're the only one who has known Crixus longer than I have, Avitus. All things considered, I think you have every right to hear what he has to say.'
Varn looked relieved, an odd thing for one who does not readily display his emotions, and he nodded gratefully. 'Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it.'
Giving a brief, humourless smile, Krassus crossed the sparsely furnished room to where a terminal lay. The orange display flickered into existence as he neared and he noticed the small, flashing icon at the bottom of the screen. After a few button commands, he heard a faint hiss as the line connected, an amazing achievement in itself considering how many comm buoys it had been illegally routed through.
'Centurion Nantia?'
The General's fingertips drummed on his desk; the only sign of his anxiety.
'Yes Sir,' the operative replied, his voice garbled and distorted, 'I apologise for contacting you in this manner but I had no choice. There is little time left for me so I must report quickly.'
Krassus lowered his head, expecting the worst. 'What happened, Centurion?'
Crixus took a deep breath before answering, his disappointment clear, 'The package has been delivered but there was a witness, an asari. I almost had her but she's locked herself in a room and I can hear her in there, talking to someone. There was no one with her when I went after her and this place is deserted. It's unlikely anyone was in the room to begin with.'
Krassus shook his head, his eyes closed as he reeled from the news. He'd hoped the mission would be carried out with no complications and for that he berated himself inwardly for his naivety. No plan survived first contact with the enemy.
'Has she alerted C-Sec?' he questioned sternly.
'It's a strong possibility, Sir,' Crixus responded. His voice was growing heavier with static by the second and he spoke hurriedly in case the signal was lost, 'When I tried to bypass the door lock she cut the power on me. You'd have to be a competent tech to carry out something like that and she looked like anything but. There's no doubt about it, Sir, she's getting help.'
The general's brow pulsed as he mentally assessed the situation. 'I see. If that's the case then we have little option. I'm calling an abort on the mission. You are to pull out immediately and go to ground in one of our Citadel safe houses. When the heat has died down, you are to RTB at the next opportunity.'
'Negative, Sir, it's likely she knows the location of the package and could lead C-Sec to it. I'm staying.'
'What are you thinking, Centurion?' Krassus growled, the force of his voice booming in the small chamber, 'The mission may already be compromised and I won't have you throw your life away! You are to pull back, that's an order!'
Silence stretched out the scant few moments as they waited for their man's reply. Avitus was little more than a statue, and merely blinked when Crixus finally answered.
'I'm sorry, Sir, I must ensure our mission is completed. I still have a breaching charge. I didn't want to use it for fear of drawing attention to myself but that doesn't seem to matter now. I knew when making this transmission that it would be my last.'
Krassus inhaled deeply and again shut his eyes in frustration. 'Damn it, Crixus,' he said sadly, 'You don't have to do this.'
'Yes I do, General, for the glory of the Legion and the Empire,' Crixus replied, his voice now resolute, 'Please, Sir, know that I do this without regret. I'm disappointed that I won't see our goals fulfilled but I give my life gladly, knowing that I've helped achieve that end.'
Krassus' cyan facial patterns shifted as he grimaced. It was a cold truth of command, knowing that your men could die at any moment and yet it was something he'd never grown used to, especially when that death could have been avoided. In just a brief moment his mind went through familiar cycles, tormenting him with things he could have done differently, adjustments to the plan that might have spared Crixus' life.
His eyes wandered to Avitus, who remained motionless. The tribune had seemed troubled enough when first entering Krassus' quarters but now he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Perhaps Avitus expected the general to persist, to convince Crixus to return?
No, Krassus told himself firmly, He would not shame Crixus' sacrifice by displaying weakness.
'Very well. If that is what you feel must be done,' the general finally said.
'Is…my brother there, Sir?' Crixus asked uneasily.
'Of course.' Krassus answered and looked at Avitus.
The tribune continued to show no sign of what he was feeling as Crixus spoke again, weary with the knowledge that they were to be his final words to his sibling, 'Avitus. Take care of our sister. Make the galaxy a better place for her. Honour the spirits of our brothers.'
A few moments passed with only the occasional chirping of Zorya's native birds to fill the empty air. Finally, with the last vestiges of its strength, the weakening signal allowed one final statement.
'General...it's been an honour.'
Krassus bowed his head respectfully. 'No, Crixus. The honour has been mine.'
A click echoed through the room as the connection was severed and the terminal blinked its objection, an error symbol flashing repeatedly on the display.
Both men visibly sagged with the weight of grief and bitter regret as they digested what had happened. Once the witness had been dealt with, Crixus would doggedly remain with his device to ensure its activation. Now that there was a chance C-Sec knew something was wrong it was only a matter of time until they found him, and Crixus would die before allowing himself to be captured.
With that in mind, Avitus sighed softly. 'I suppose that's that.'
'Indeed,' Krassus murmured, nodding slowly.
Casting aside his sorrow, he slipped into the frame of mind in which he needed to be; the solid and dependable role of a leader. It was not only necessary for him but the men under his command also needed their general to be cool-headed and unflustered by the deaths of his soldiers. Mourning would come later but for now, his men needed orders.
'I want reports every fifteen minutes until the device is activated,' he said as he sat down at his desk, 'If it's discovered and deactivated prematurely I want to hear about it immediately. Once the mission has been accomplished I'll announce Crixus' death and a full service will be held as soon as we have the time.'
'Yes, Sir,' Avitus responded. Smartly, he saluted and marched from the room. His silvery armour glowed in the rich dusk light that poured through the window and it shimmered as he halted, his feet stayed by Krassus' voice.
'Will you be all right, Tribune?'
Avitus turned. The creamy brown ridges of his face were edged with black ink that grew from his eye sockets in menacing curves, perfectly framing his baleful yellow eyes.
'I'll live, Sir,' he said flatly before saluting once more and exiting the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a hiss.
Krassus sighed. Crixus' death would be tough on Avitus but if anyone could endure such a hardship, it was his most skilled and experienced warrior.
Stabbing at the terminal's keypad irritably, Krassus removed the error notification and began to sift through his messages, five of which had accrued during Crixus' transmission. Contemptuously, he deleted them all with a single, frustrated keystroke. Soon he would find out whether or not his centurion's sacrifice was in vain. Little else mattered until then.
