Kudara - yes, I checked up on it myself and that appears to be correct. I'll shamelessly try to fix that miscalculation in this chapter :)
The universe of Mass Effect and all canon characters belong to Bioware.
Galrun Vakarian stood in the middle of the wreckage, rubbing his temples. Not that it did any good through the helmet.
He had intended this to be a simple subdue-and-assassinate mission. Everything was planned months ago – his contacts on Omega have been specific on exactly when, exactly where and even how his target would arrive, well, minus the equipment and motives. Galrun would cook up a cute little ambush, knock out the man from a distance, then administer temporary countermeasures to get him talking regarding certain matters. Then he would kill him.
Only some Spectres arrested people. He didn't.
But the situation at hand was far more complicated and would likely turn out much more far-reaching if he'd continue with his earlier plans.
His target, the cowering little liar who had betrayed his government at the expense of dozens of innocent lives, was now somehow working for nobody else than Cerberus, the pro-human terrorist militia who liked to screw with anything and anyone that didn't share their DNA structure. The military-grade Assault Armor his target was wearing along with modest golden markings all over his shuttle were indications enough; the distress signal he intercepted but failed to stall confirmed his suspicions.
Galrun shook his head at the last thought. I don't have much time. The man had been dragged into his own shuttle and relieved of most of his armor, slowly recovering from the paralysis caused by his tranquilizer. The dropship was sealed and all systems save for climate-control were blocked, an unnecessary effort since it'd be hours before the human inside would articulate properly enough to attempt an escape. He was the least of Galrun's problems anyway.
As he raised his head and took in the view before him, his mind began racing once again trying to derive just what the hell was going on at this deserted frozen rock. The small vessel before him was unlike any other ships he'd ever seen – it didn't even match any recorded Geth ship signatures. The smooth, rounded surface which reminded him of those insects from Earth – beetles - was relieved of any viewports and hatches, making it difficult for the Spectre to gain any kind of access inside the vessel. He abandoned the effort after his omnitool nearly overloaded from an extremely aggressive hacking countermeasure present in the Geth ship's computers; he was never good at that kind of thing.
Its pilot was at his disposal anyway. He'd drop a message to the Council regarding the discovery later, right now, all he needed to find out were a big bunch of whys and an additional couple of hows.
The corpse of the synthetic lay before him, the arms and legs folded neatly after being dragged for twenty meters into the snow. The gunshot to the lower chest looked severe, and the circuits jutting out from the inside were already too frozen to attempt any kind of self-restore sequence – the lamphead was dead. And that's what unsettled him more than anything.
He knew the architecture and nuances of Geth networking, everything he failed to learn from general databases he got out from unwary quarians who seemed to be technical geniuses and Geth encyclopedias regardless of their age or gender. A single platform had no more intelligence than a clanless krogan – acting solely on immediate threats and applying minimal tactical maneuvers to their simple push-and-shoot combat technique. He couldn't exactly classify this one's behaviour as drastically different, but it behaved... intelligently. Instinctive assertions always irritated Galrun. No logical basis, no cause, almost always plausible.
And it wasn't only that. The AI had obviously picked up the life signs of an incapacitated human when it saw his target, yet it attempted nothing you'd expect from a typical Geth. Some thought that after Sovereign, Saren's dropship, was destroyed the Geth lost their motives and goals – but the Alliance cleanup teams knew better, as they still continued to discover extremely aggressive pockets of Geth resistance throghout the borders of Council Space. This Geth had chosen not to kill, and that wasn't even the most disturbing part.
The N7 armor was mostly intact due to its position on the machine's upper right chest – the Alliance logo looking laughably out-of-place under the distinctive features of a common Geth combat platform. The component was obviously acquired the moment the thing leaned down to pick something up – and he couldn't help but think of battle trophies as he contemplated the machine's treatment of the item. Hell, it may even have been Shepard's as far as he was concerned. He knew that rogue AIs were bound to possess self-awareness and all the moral dilemmas that came with it, but emotional responses so... discreet were beyond anything he had ever encountered before.
Then again, the thing could have just noticed a convenient mold that it could use to repair a wound. Structural damage, he corrected himself. Right now he knew there was nothing he could do beyond speculate, and even that wasn't exactly in his best interests. Whatever the hell the weirdo-lamp was doing, it couldn't have been for the general benefit for all organics. He sighed as he looked towards the shuttle containing his barely alive prisoner. Do I really believe that?
Do I really doubt the motives of a goddamned Geth?
Galrun knew better than anyone how large a weakness preconceptions were, and the skill to form his own opinions on as much things as possible was almost honed into his personality. But a Geth... a Geth was bound to have attacked him or any organic. And it did. It managed one shot before he went down. It managed one miss. Geth don't miss, unless its deliberate.
By the spirits...
His head started aching all over again as he went through his assumptions for the thousandth time. It was all irrelevant now, and thinking too much would only cloud his judgement for the upcoming interrogation. He clicked his mandibles, the sound resounding sharply inside his helmet. Speaking of interrogations, he'd better get down to his upcoming one.
Just as Galrun turned towards the shuttle, a barely audible chime was heard from the Geth ship. A few minutes later, the pilot's lens flared up, and the machine silently rose when it registered the turian life sign inside the shuttle.
The back-up programs quickly gained consensus as the mathematically perfect plan the Geth had composed in a millisecond came to a triumphant end. The faked termination of the current platform was a matter of aligning the already present hole in the trajectory of the bullets, auto-shorting the long-redundant circuits it hadn't had time to remove. After transferring all 1183 runtimes to the ship's back-up data hub, the platform was relieved of any activity until the turian deemed it "dead".
And now, unbeknown to the Spectre, it would systematically bring all hardware components online and silently rise to its feet to power up the ship, regretting the failure of its primary objective to locate the only individual who possessed sufficient-grade hardware to understand and aid the Geth and their future. The turian would not understand. The Geth were not yet ready for interactions with other species, and they avoided contact with as little casualties as they could.
After all, the 100.00% probability of unchecked hostile reaction from all organics has been proven right multiple times during the current platform's mission. This incident was just the one of many.
"Viewing window on."
The Illusive Man rotated his chair to face from the now-unobstructed view of a giant-class M star at its last phases of existence. He always ensured the striking effect to illuminate his form from behind during rare conversations with the leading operatives of various cells, never forgetting to remind his unshakable dominance over everyone and everything Cerberus.
The Quantum Entanglement Projector started humming silently as the words "Stand By" appeared in mid-air over the gray circle. The Illusive Man released a soft puff from his cigarette and smiled as he recounted the times he had been left waiting, trailing off before even starting. The one woman who could allow herself such bravery was also the only one worthy of a little forgiveness, for she seemed to grasp and embrace the goals of Cerberus no less fiercely than the leader himself.
Her current duties and objectives certainly gave her the excuse to be late for a few minutes. Miranda Lawson, however, would never be late for more than fifteen seconds.
As her genetically engineered form shimmered into full three-dimentional view before him, the Illusive Man dropped his cigarette in the ash tray, standing up at the same time. The ever-present smile playing on his lips, he faced away from the projection, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited for her to begin.
She never had problems composing herself.
"Apologies, I've been stalled by a couple of our techs while I was on my way. Apparantly, Wilson has run into a some kind of problem. I'm assuming you expect an update on Project Lazarus?"
Her voice never missed a beat as she confessed her dutiful guilt without as much as a tremble. The Illusive Man smiled at the star, admiring the confidence of his best agent. He would let this incident pass; she definitely did her part in doing so.
"I was simply interested in your overall progress. And I don't mean just figures and numbers, Miranda. I need to know if the project gives any signs of remote success. As devoted as I am to our goal, my resources are not unlimited."
Miranda's reply was immediate. Good; if she was eager to inform him, she would definitely bear reassuring news. But then again, nobody has ever been better at concealing their emotions than Operative Lawson. Nobody except for the Illusive Man himself.
"There is no need to worry this far into the project. While the brain has suffered severe cellular breakdown, even worse than we initially expected, Wilson has assured me that his every habit, every memory and personality trait is subject to complete restoration. Physical parameters are promising; muscle tissues are forming rapidly and every grown organ adapts decently enough to the body. The numerous enhancements you've suggested have been installed and infused, including bioluminescence perception which was considered impractical due to currently being adapted solely for drell physiology. I'd say there is definitely nothing to worry about."
"And the time estimate until project completion?"
"Remains unchanged. Commander Shepard will be fully restored- or, rather, resurrected in approximately one year's time. There are numerous tests we should run after physical reconstruction is complete, and the kick-start procedure will most likely involve risks we'll need a little time to minimize. Project Lazarus proceeds as planned."
The Illusive Man turned around, a satisfied expression concealing a much brighter reaction as his steely blue eyes seemed to pierce right through the projection and lock an absolutely demoralizing gaze with Miranda. She didn't flinch.
"Good."
He casually strolled to his chair, breaking his stare only as he sat down and reached into his pocket for his box of cigarettes. Miranda waited patiently as he flicked his lighter and released a puff of smoke.
"I trust you implicitly with this assignment, Miranda. I expect your promises to bear fruit in the near future."
"Of course. I should return to my duties immediately then, if I may."
She was eager to deal with something immediate. Something important.
"One more thing before you go. You mentioned Dr. Wilson ran into some... problems. Have your suspicions regarding his true allegiances been confirmed?"
Miranda seemed taken off-guard with his question, the momentary surprise in her eyes visible a second before her cold expression hid any emotional response. She sighed.
"Frankly, I think yes. Long story short, the project needed core samples of Shepard's skin flakes for additional tests, and I planned on dispatching a science team to land on Alchera and conduct a thorough scan of the surroundings. Wilson, however, volunteered to go alone. He was... persistent.
"I assumed you were in charge of the operation."
The Illusive Man's voice didn't hold anger, or even accusation. If anything, it contained an eerie ignorance regarding a simple fact. Miranda, however, was ready with her answer.
"I owe you an apology, but I thought of it as an opportunity to uncover his motives once and for all. I rigged his shuttle with listening devices and forced him to leave in a modified Assault Armor riddled with tracking sensors. I assumed he would contact his real "employers", if there are any, while on this conveniently lengthy trip."
The Illusive Man was smiling with his eyes. He almost looked proud, and, despite his unmoving symmetric features, he even seemed impressed.
"Revelations?"
"Plenty. His first stop was Omega, and it wasn't simple refueling. He landed on Alchera after two hours and we lost contact moments after he stepped off. Silence ever since."
Author's note: I completed Chapter 3 faster than I expected, and I think it came out fine.
Some things regarding Legion's 'wound': yeah, I screwed that up in Chap 2, but came up with a decent enough explanation that will work well for the plot. And we all pretend Galrun didn't notice Legion's gap before he shot him. You know, viewing angles. They distort... stuff.
Also, I noticed how Shepard could see the silver lights on hanars in ME2, which made it obvious Cerberus had tinkered with his perceptive abilities a little further than they needed to. I just thought I'd work that in. Maybe that's why we never interact with hanars in ME2. They'd uhh, wouldn't need translators.