Imagine looking at a fragment of text. Imagine that it's part of a sentence that seems to grow and grow as your eye follows it. What you thought was a fragment is actually the tip of a sculpture of information that you are stood atop. Your perception falls back and you see yourself standing atop a fractal, ever expanding across the horizon. You, a complex being of inter-synergistic parts and sentient beings… you're dwarfed by this massive construct. And then a creeping realisation that you are not reading the data…. It is reading you.

The team were sat in the common area - the tight, space near the bunk room, around the cramped table. Lia was stood near the door, whilst the others lounged as best they could around the room, clutching various beverages. She had been trying to describe the experience of the ancient VI she had encountered.

"It was beyond scope. And yet so simple. Like seeing the most basic of programmes expanded out. How it fit onto the shuttles drive system I did not know. And yet it was like it was but a fragment of a whole. In that way, it looked like the code that Unit-Legion distributed. However, it was different. An early version perhaps, not sentient subroutines."

Dan nodded slowly, rubbing his chin, "And yer sure it didnae track you?"

"It registered my presence as an unknown user - that will have been flagged. But it did not track my point of origin. I was not present within the shuttle myself - I was using a projected VI myself, so none of my constituent sentients have been compromised."

Dan mused for a moment then shrugged, "Fine, we can't verify. However, Teel, keep an eye on Lia. You and the geth have an… understanding."

Teel looked queasy,"You mean we know how to kill each other really well."

"Yep. Was trying to be diplomatic but there you go with that Quarian expansionism," the lieutenant rubbed his eyes and exhaled, "Lia may not know if she's compromised, if half of what she says about the bloody god in the machine. If you aren't as au fait with the wee technicals, know anyone who is?"

Rog snorted, "We could always ask ghost girl to dial up one of her besties…"

Klin rumbled a chuckle of his own, "You wanna dial up the top Admiral in the Alliance to talk to his wife? At this time of the morning? Heck, even Wrex gets antsy about that."

Teel shook his head and shot Klin a dirty look, "I may have to consult her. She is the leading voice on geth architecture outside of the geth themselves. Lia, this would just be to make sure, ok?"

The geth unit nodded once, the flashlight head bobbing, "Perfectly understandable. I advise that I am sequestered in the cargo hold in a form of faraday cage to prevent wireless transmission. If you can manually alert the Geth Consensus so they are not alarmed by my absence - I have already asked them to firewall my transmissions in the interim."

Rog whistled, "What in the under-hells was that you saw, if you've got the collective on the edge?"

"I collated some unknown…. Imagery. Associated identifier marks. Not in text form, rather some form of pictoral language. I have externally archived these for reference. I believe that the coding archtiecture is sufficiently different that even if there were an intrusion element, it would not be able to run on our local systems. Porting software across species and hardware is a labour intensive task - no code is universal. However, discretion is still advised."

"Right, now we've agreed that space hacking is bad, can we get on wie the job, boys 'n girls? We do have a dead drop to make."

Several hours later, their corvette hung in the ink black, several light years from the cluster hosting the mass relay, Tassrah. They were sat in the Phoenix Massing cluster, in the Chromos system. Currently they were in high orbit above Lattesh, a volcanic world. Lia was currently sat in the cargo hold, isolated. They'd informed her of their arrival - Sharrocks had read the Firewalker debrief associated with the world as part of one of his support ops - a known area of Heretic geth incursion during the Collector Crisis.

Apparently there was no longer any form of active geth presence, which explained the increase in mining traffic in the system - automated freighters and a few freelance identified numbered vessels and survey craft. What was of interest to the crew, however, was a small beacon, in high upper orbit. A scan of the beacon indicated it was a defunct survey satellite. However, using the codes provided by their current "employers", the beacon pinged a site on the planet's surface - their fifteen crates.

The descent was slight choppy, due to the various expelled gasses and lava flows across the planet's landing site wasn't much better - a precarious basalt plateau, with a vague prefab erected near a rudimentary landing pad. There was no permanent dwelling or survey site, showing this was a very rapid deployment.

Near the pad was a basic shed, under the awning of which sat fifteen squat containers. Each six by five by four, they were standard packing containers. From the initial scans and remote view of the cockpit cameras nothing seemed untoward. Rogilia circled the site twice whilst they got a reading, but all was quiet.

Ever the military man, Dan had Klin cover him as the ship descended. The pair barreled out of the ramp and hit the surface of the platform hard. Dan took a knee and sighted down his rifle, sweeping the pad north to west. Klin did likewise. Dan turned and checked the rear then touched his ear.

"Rog, take her up, do a quick check. Want to make sure we don't have any uninvited guests just waiting for us to get comfortable."

"Got you. Standard sweep and clear. 15 minutes."

"Copy. Out. Klin, shed, covering."

"Copy."

The krogan lumbered forward, his shotgun levelled. He crossed the short distance, pausing to take a knee and check his omni tool. Then he advanced again toward the shed. He took up position at the entrance. It was more of an tent, made from a rigid material. But you didn't know if someone had hidden LOKI mechs behind metal, or had landmines wired in the entrance.

Dan moved forward slowly, turning to sweep around their landing site. The location indicated that ground assault wouldn't be possible: lava all around, plus an elevated position. The ambient temperature meant that even with their hardsuits they couldn't be out here for more than an hour - their barriers and thermal gear wasn't anywhere near rate for it. It was a wonder the tent hadn't just burst into flames this close to the lava flows. Then he spotted it: a field temperature regulator inside the tent - projecting a thin biotic field around the crates. Another sweep, around the tent external, and the pair crossed the threshold into the interior. Dan's suit registered the change immediately - a cool 30 degrees celsius inside the tent. It was still a hot box but a veritable fridge compared to the outside.

The Lt knelt to look at the boxes, then brought his omni tool up. They had transcribed the crate serial numbers onto their tools from the written documents - about the only info they were allowed to keep. Most mercs would wipe the data anyway, as it was all evidence and no merc wanted a rep for having compromised a government op. It made you unreliable. He wondered, briefly, how their rep would survive this - being a merc was fine, when you had standards. But even with the best of intentions, being a spook brought a whole host of negativity. But then again, it depended on the clientele you wanted to work with. And if it meant they weren't given black bag ops. Then that was fine with him.

Being on a Spectres payroll wasn't too bad. Or at least, on the payroll of one of their suspected proxies.

His radio crackled - Rog. "Heads up. Got a sensor ping - couple of last gen gunships. And a large haul-shuttle."

Dan gave a grunt, "Copy. Stay on station but don't let them know you're here if you can. Think they've picked you up? Over."

"Think they saw me take off. Not sure they know what we're doing. They're coming in hot so assume they want to snatch and grab."

"Great. Keep eyes on. Out."

The radio clicked and dan turned to Klin, "We've got about three minutes until potential hostiles. I'm thinking hijack. Pirates probably."

Klin cocked his head, the bulky helmet obscuring his evident frown, "Huh, so what's the plan?"

Sharrocks looked around and chewed his lip. Then he pointed at the thermal shield.

"Got an idea. Help me yank the power unit…"

Three minutes later, a pair of gunships screamed over the landing pad and banked into a crossing path u-turn. Turrets swept the pad, ready to light it up. The shuttle drifted in at a more leisurely pace. A hauler style, of volus design, it was a squat, boxy shape, lacking the "curve" of the alliance variants. It was clearly designed more for internal hauling - more a "truck" than a "car". It turned and a side panel slid aside, disgorging a pair of turians in battered combat armour, followed by a krogan. The krogan turned and helped a smaller figure down. The volus stepped forwards and placed its hands on its dumpy hips.

"I know you're there hsst alliance. Led us right to hsst your payday. Now, play nice and hsst we'll let you walk home."

There was silence for a moment, then Sharrocks shouted, "Pitne For?"

"Hsst Well done! And I always hsst assume you oxygen breathers hsst think we look alike!"

"What's this about?"

"Well, any good business man knows hsst how to maximise his profit. You're hsst unfortunately, an easier mark than the hsst rest. New blood, needs to learn the ropes. Hsst nothing personal, of course."

"Of course. So, you want to get paid twice?"

"Naturally. Hsst."

"What about your other pickup?"

"Mr Sharrocks, I'm an eminent hsst businessman in the Terminus. I have hsst more than one ship. Frankly, hsst they Fist should've just contacted me. And I aim to hsst show them why."

"So not just double pay… continued business?"

"Well done! Now, hsst I think I'm quite done. Are you going to surrender?"

"Nope."

The volus sighed, "Very well. Hsst. Take them. But mind the cargo. Won't hsst look good if we scratch the merchandise."

The Turians nodded then stalked forwards. The krogan cocked his shotgun, one handed and moved forwards. Dan, hidden in the shadow of the crates peeked around the lip of a stack. The emitter had been moved from the back of the tent to the fore, innocuously set in front of the crate stack. He held up a hand and counted from five. As he finished, he clenched his fist. Across him, hunkered down, Klin nodded and connected a set of wires. The thermal shield pulsed and went out. The air crackled and the advancing mercs paused. There was a flash and the pulsed, sending a shower of sparks out as it did.

Kiln had forcefully readjusted the emitter radiators. Essentially a jury-rigged biotic shaped charge: The Turians were lifted bodily up and flung back by the sudden release of biotic energy. One landed badly and writhed, nursing a badly mangled arm. The other flew into the krogan who had only stumbled. The pair went down hard, but were merely dazed. Pitne came off worst. He was punted face first into his shuttle. The speed he was propelled at meant the shuttle's mass effect fields triggered on their side. He whimpered and staggered backwards, gassed leaking from his suit and ruptured face plate.

"Oh ssrkkkghgh bother."

The air sparked and the volus seemed to expand. The stunned krogan staggered to his feet, nearly shoving his turian comrade aside. He had a moment to turn and see his boss inflate. Then a spark of floating ash met the methane inside the volus' suit.

The second explosion wasn't huge, but it was wet. The krogan roared, his face plate smeared with tattered enviro-suit and gore. He swung his shotgun and fired wildly, trying to find a target. The second turian managed to duck backwards, turning to try and engage Dan. But instead met a hail of mass effect fire. His barrier sputtered, flared and died. The turian lasted a second longer as his armour gave way, sparking with impacts. The remaining krogan snarled and finally cleared his view. He gestured wildly at the gunships.

Their guns began to spool up, as the pair manoeuvred for a good shot - all though of a pay check gone. The krogan roared triumphantly… which was cut short as a missile streaked across the sky and obliterated a gunship.

The type 3 Tabar skirmish missile is usually utilised in ship to ship combat - it is designed for impacting bomber craft or up-armoured and shielded corvette-to-frigate level craft. Its multi-layered design of biotic tip and HE secondary charge is designed to compromise shielding, then layered armour (reactive or solid) via shaped charge delivery, followed by a tertiary explosive meant to expand any breaches and thoroughly compromise the target vessel.

That is to say, it's a space bunker buster.

So, using it on a hovering gunship is both an impressive feat of fly-by-wire targeting and also heavy overkill - a gunship has mid-tier atmospheric barriers, and barely any up armour.

The fireball of shrapnel and secondary explosions send the second gunship into a tailspin. Before it could correct, a stream of white hot mass effect rounds peppered the spinning craft, which went up in rupturing, guttering fireball all of its own.

The Krogan stared. His shotgun dropped from his hand and he raised his arms. Through the smoke Chancer.

"How's that for timing, Mr Sharrocks?"

"Bloody perfect, love. Bloody perfect."

Ten minutes later they had the krogan and the wounded yurian sat on their shuttle and airborne. The pilot had wisely decided to just stay put and squawk a surrender to the newly arrived corvette. The mercs were a bit dazed, and in no mood to resist. They weren't too keen to get space-side to the freighter and explain to their colleagues that their boss was now painted over the shuttle's exterior. Dan winced at that - he never liked collateral - he'd rather have given the volus a kicking and let him learn his lesson.

Now, the Chancer sat on the landing pad, crates being loaded up. Their short unshielded period didn't seem to have left them any worse for wear.

Dan stood at the edge of the landing pad, watching the merc shuttle speed away. They'd tweak the comms package so they wouldn't be calling for help until they were out of atmosphere and within 500 metres of a ship. And even then only with a huge amount of interference. Yeah, it wasn't nice but they were getting off lightly. There was a rep to be remembered for.

Sharrocks turned and walked back to the ramp, climbing into the cargo hold. Rogilia and Klin were wheeling the crates aboard using biotic lifters - small, trolley like auto lifters with a self contained biotic charge. Dan nodded at them the approached the holding station where Lia was isolated. Teel was stood next to her, a video window open and connected to the temporary QEC they had had thrust on them by Garrus.

A familiar figure was stood in the holographic display, albeit reduced down to a fifth of her usual size. Dan still couldn't quite get used to the sight of an unsuited Quarian. This one was wearing a purple sashed robe, with admiral tabs - clearly formal wear. It appeared Teel had caught tali at a diplomatic event.

The Quarian Dominion's youngest admiral had her arms crossed and was frowning at something off-screen.

"Whilst I always appreciate hearing from a fellow engineer, Teel'Shuran, I want to be absolutely clear. You are sure you are not having a joke at my expense?"

"Absolutely, Tali'Zorah. I mean… Tali'Shepard."

The woman smiled faintly, "I know. Takes getting used to. So, a VI? I can't see any traces of intrusion code, or compromised nodes. What is…. Alarming are these images you say you found Lia. Ah, Lieutenant Sharrocks. Glad to see Kasumi hasn't gotten you killed yet."

Dan gave a lopsided grin, "Makes two of us, aye. I hope we dinnae disrupt your evening."

"Hardly. Admiralty meeting with the Conclave. I just left John holding court. He does that." Tali smiled fondly, then turned her attention back to the data, "I think I will need to run these… oh Keelah. Definitely need to run these by John. Lia, I think you are ok. It's the rest of you that need to be cautious. I will ask John to clear you for access. Get some files to you."

Dan nodded slowly, "What's so worrying?"

"You got this data in conjunction with a haulage job?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then be very careful around those crates. If you can, try a scan - Lia is best suited. If this is related, she is the least vulnerable of all of you. The files will go into more detail but synthetics are a blindspot." The admiral arched an eyebrow at Lia, "Lucky you were along, Lia. Do I need to have a word with Descartes?"

"We will admit a certain level of…. As the organics say 'gut feeling', Creator Tali'Shepard. We initially suspected Reaper involvement. It would be prudent to be present if that were the case, to re-establish and identify any presient threat to the consensus."

"Hmm. Well, the next cohort meeting with the geth will include a gentle admonishment about sharing. Again. I will let John know. Keep safe and keep in touch. Keelah Se'Lai."

"Keelah Se'lai, Tali'Shepard," responded Teel with a head tilt. Even without their suits, Quarian body language was overt - you didn't spend a life-time inside a completely obscuring suit and then forget all you'd had to do to over compensate. Dan gestured to Lia and the geth until disengaged from the charging station which they'd repurposed into a faraday cage.

The crates had been stacked and lashed at the far end of the cargo hold, behind the mobile unit. Dan beckoned Lia to follow him and gestured at the crates.

"Whaddya think?"

"Shielded, biometric access scans. Keyed to…. Salarian DNA." Her oculus zoomed and her fringe flaps flared, "Explosives linked to the sealant - attempt to access will trigger this and all nearby networked of which appears to have radiation leaking from it - minor, non hazardous, but indicative that this has a deniability element to it - scorched earth?"

Dan grimaced, "Sounds right. STG don't like leaving traces… if this is STG. It's convoluted enough. Smells Salarian."

"However, STG have not yet adapted to geth encoding and spoofing algorithms. Close, but not quite. I have suborned a crate and isolated it from the network."

Dan blinked, "How?"

"In a way you would understand - by pretending I am another crate and that I have been opened correctly. This has in turn opened another."

"Why not all of them."

"In case it didn't work. Then it'd just be minor concussion rather than a scuttled ship."

Dan blinked again then swore, "JESUS Lia. Tell me before you do something like that."

"You did not object to the bunker buster to a gunship."

"That was you?"

"Yes. Teel isn't a pilot, and Rogilia could not guarantee the LADAR tracking in this atmosphere. I suborned a missile at her request."

"Fine. Ok. But if the circumstance permits…."

"Indeed." The geth quirked her "face" into the equivalent of a grin - a tilted flashlight head, flaps quirked upwards and focus zoomed, "so, let's see what we have."

The crate hissed open. Dan whistled. Teel wandered over and balked. Lia even reared back slightly.

Inside the crate, on racks,neatly itemised, serial numbered and with a micro life support pad underneath them, were stacked husk heads. As one, they fixed the trio with dead eyes - human, turian, batarian - and screeched.