A Link to the Past
Four days after the mission to Horizon, Alan found himself getting more and more frustrated. The Collectors managed to abduct the inhabitants of another colony – New Canton – and no-one seemed able to stop or catch up to them. It was as if they were mirages; always seen, but always remaining intangible. It frustrated Alan in-particular as he now knew that they could be fought and beaten, but it seemed to be becoming clearer to him that they were extremely lucky to even find out that much; if Kaidan's position hadn't been leaked, he doubted they would have faced the Collectors at all. Still, after their encounter he wondered if they were truly ready to face the Collectors in a straight fight. The problem wasn't even really their numbers; they seemed to lack intelligence and self-preservation instincts in spite of their marksmanship. He was more concerned about those swarms of insect robots; if Kaidan hadn't used his Technomancy to protect them, they would definitely have been captured. There had to be a way to protect themselves in case they encountered the Collectors again, and they had to find it fast.
Another problem that he had was Gillian. She didn't cause trouble for the group, and in fact hardly spoke a word to them at all. However, she had a habit of turning up in the strangest places; in the engine room, in the galley store-cupboard, and once Alan even caught her in the maintenance ducts. Whenever Alan demanded to know what she thought she was doing, she would blankly reply that she was "exploring". Alan had the feeling that she was looking for places to hide should Cerberus show up.
Mostly Gillian kept to herself, not speaking to anybody and not even coming to the table for meals. She also never took off her environment suit. Mostly the crew had given up trying to socialise with her, as she was rather unreceptive to any attempts to talk to her. The only one who hadn't given up was Alistair, who made it a point to drop off some food at her cabin at every mealtime. She was unresponsive to his attempts to make small-talk, but when he went back to her cabin an hour later he found an empty tray waiting for him outside the door. At least they knew that she was not starving herself.
On the fourth day, Nicole decided to try talking to Gillian again. Knocking on the cabin door, but finding no answer, the Spartan stepped into the cabin. It wasn't as large or well-furnished as the crew cabins were, with just a bed, a small side-table and a sink. Gillian herself was sat as stiff as a statue on the bed, the only indication that she was aware of Nicole's presence being the fact that she was looking in the Spartan's direction. She was still dressed in her environment suit; Nicole didn't recall ever seeing her take it off.
"Hey, kid," she said in a friendly tone, walking over to the bed and carefully putting a bundle of clothes on the end. The clothes were a mixed bunch, including several pairs of trousers and shirts, but also one or two rather pretty summer dresses.
"Malcho insists on buying me these things," Nicole chuckled, thinking of her mentor. "I've got so many now, I figure you'd make better use of them than me, get you out of that suit for a while. Some of them might be a bit too big, but I can trim 'em down to your size if you need me to."
To Nicole's disappointment, Gillian didn't respond for a while. Instead, she looked blankly between the clothes, Nicole, and her own environment suit. Nicole thought for a moment that she thought she could see the gears moving inside the girl's head. Finally, she replied "Thank you, but I prefer to wear this," in the same flat monotone that she always used when speaking.
"Ah, come on, kid," Nicole said pleadingly. "Surely you don't wanna spend the rest of your life in that stuffy old suit? Does it even get washed?"
"I prefer to wear this," said Gillian again. If Nicole didn't know better, she could have sworn that she heard the faintest sign of irritation in Gillian's voice. She shrugged and moved back towards the door.
"Well, I tried," she said wearily. "I'll leave those clothes there in case you change your mind. Maybe talk later?"
Sighing, she stepped out of Gillian's cabin and headed back upstairs to the galley, where she fixed herself a drink. Gillian's silence reminded her too much of herself when she was her age; quiet and reluctant to speak. She wondered if Gillian had ever gone through a similar trauma to what she did, and she knew that what she needed more than anything was someone she could rely on. After all, if Malcho hadn't been there for Nicole she was sure that things would have turned out very differently. She wondered if she could have turned out to be an emotionless robot, as detractors of the Spartan program often called the super-soldiers.
The drink was a rather bitter alcoholic blend by the Salarians. The crew had purchased it as something new to try, but had gone untouched until now, and after one sip of the stuff Nicole wasn't sure if she would be touching it again. She idly carried it as she walked up to the bridge, where she found Alan hunched over the pilot's console while Alistair manoeuvred the ship through the stars.
"What's up?" she asked idly.
"Got ourselves something really interesting on the short-range frequencies," replied Alan. "Right now we're in the Rosetta Nebula, and we just picked up a snatch of a transmission from the Enoch system. Here, have a listen..." He pressed some buttons on the console, bringing up a recording of a radio transmission.
"Bastards didn't know what hit 'em," a voice full of malicious glee said. "Coming around for a second patrol. Looking for survivors."
"Now that doesn't sound good," said Nicole, her expression going dark. "Any idea who's talking?"
"We think it's the Blue Suns," said Alistair. "I've been hearing a lot of reports on the extranet about their activities in this area. The transmission came from the third planet, Joab. That set off the alarm bells as, from what I've been reading, there was an excavation team there at some time. They must have found something big if the Suns are after 'em."
"I'm impressed," said Nicole, smiling. "You keep a lot of news in your head."
"I figure it helps us in our line of work as space vigilantes," smirked Alistair. "It's like listening in on a police bandwidth."
"You make us sound like the galaxy's Justice League," Alan snorted, shaking his head. "It's not as glamorous as that."
"At least we don't have to wear tights," chuckled Alistair. "Anyway, I'm setting a course for Joab now. Let's see what's going on down there."
"Right," nodded Alan. "Nicole, we'll get Dorva and get tooled up. The Suns won't exactly roll out the red carpet for us."
"Does anyone?" asked Nicole with a wry smile, her arms folded. She and Alan walked down the passageway where the crew cabins were located, with Alan stopping by the intercom outside Dorva's cabin. The hatches to the cabins opened in an odd fashion, as the cabins were actually on a lower level; a hatch pushed into the wall and formed a stepladder down into the cabin itself.
"Dorva," Alan called, "get your arse up here and meet us in the cargo bay. We're gonna make landfall soon."
"Yes, Shipmaster," came Dorva's reply. Moments later all three were changing into their combat armour, the ship shaking around them as it entered Joab's atmosphere. Alan didn't like it when the ship had to make atmospheric entry; so many things shook and rattled that he was surprised nothing was breaking off. Serenity was now showing her age, though he never liked to admit it.
Joab was a small garden world with a breathable atmosphere, and the signal was coming from the bottom of a small rocky ravine. There was barely enough room for Serenity to fit into as the ship descended to the bottom, sending dust everywhere as the rotating jets impacted against the landing pad. As soon as the ship touched down the airlock door opened and Alan, Nicole and Dorva stepped out, weapons at the ready. The entrance to an excavation site could be seen cut into the canyon wall, and several land vehicles could be seen some distance away. There was no sign of life, and no sign of a struggle; if the Blue Suns were here, it was clearly a very clean takeover.
"They would definitely have seen our approach," said Alan, peering around him. "Stay sharp."
Carefully crossing the canyon floor, the sun beating down on them, the trio reached the door without incident. Stepping inside, they found themselves in a dimly-lit mess area, with a high rock ceiling, a number of tables and chairs scattered about, and a ramp leading up to a doorway higher up in the rock. The trio carefully made their way across the room, constantly checking all around them and trying to cover any blind spots. Dorva crossed over to a small computer, and began to use it, the screen bringing up several documents.
"Find anything?" asked Alan.
"Yes," replied Dorva, keeping one hand gripping his plasma rifle tightly. "It seems that the archaeological team based here found something deeper inside. They hired the Blue Suns as escorts while they planned to move their findings to an off-site research station. By the looks of things, I'd guess that the Blue Suns had other ideas."
At this news, Alan rolled his eyes. "How thick can you get?" he said. "Why trust a mercenary group with something like this? Any mention of what this thing is?"
"None whatsoever," said Dorva. "Whatever it is though, it got the team very excited, and if the Blue Suns were willing to kill over it..."
All of a sudden there was a soft hissing noise as the door to the next chamber opened, and footsteps could be heard rapidly approaching. The group barely had time to dive for cover as shots rang out around them, the bullets slamming into the tables and barely missing the trio. They returned fire, cutting down one of the snipers, but there were a number of close calls before all of the assassins went down. Passing by their bodies to get to the door, Alan saw that they were wearing blue and white armour, and were a mix of humans, Batarians and Turians. These had to be the Blue Suns.
"You had to say it, Dorva..." Alan muttered as they went down a rocky passageway. "You just had to say they wanted to kill..."
Down a narrow rocky passage and around a corner, the group were ambushed by more Blue Suns. The mercenaries put up a good fight, but they had lost the element of surprise and now stood little chance against the highly-trained commandos. Many were cut down in a hail of gunfire, but some managed to get close to melee range, but Alan quickly pulled out his whip and lashed out with it, the white-hot plasma cutting through their armour and slicing them to ribbons.
At last, the last of the mercenaries fell. Exhausted, but satisfied, the group stepped over their bodies into a small cave just beyond them. It was the last chamber in the site; a high-ceilinged rocky cave which was dimly-lit by only a few floodlights. Most of the space in the cave was taken up by what looked like a large silver metal sculpture, composed of three thin columns of varying heights, the highest being around twenty feet tall. A small holographic display at the bottom of the sculpture was displaying various circular shapes, and the column itself had a dim blue glow. Alan lowered his weapon and walked towards it, peering at it intently.
"I guess we now know what the Blue Suns were after," he said.
"What is it?" asked Nicole, as she holstered her rifle. Dorva did the same, looking at the sculpture with great puzzlement.
"I have no idea," said Alan, shaking his head. He looked at the small screen, paying particular attention to the circular symbols. He suddenly remembered where he had seen them before. "This is definitely the Forerunner language, though. I remember Kiryuu showed me some of their alphabet once."
"Then I could see why the Blue Suns would want it," said Dorva. "Forerunner artefacts fetch a high price on the black market. Until a few years ago they were called Prothean artefacts, though as we now know the Protheans were a separate species altogether."
"I still can't believe the galaxy got it so wrong for so long," sighed Nicole, shaking her head. "In any case, we'd better report this to Kiryuu."
"Agreed," said Alan, nodding his head. "Nobody touch this until we know exactly what we're dealing with. Nicole, if you could-"
"Shh!" Dorva suddenly hissed, holding a finger up to his mandibles and raising his rifle. As Alan fell silent, he now heard what had caused Dorva to go on the alert. Faint footsteps could be heard coming from outside the chamber, approaching them slowly. Alan and Nicole raised their weapons, all three facing the door, their hearts beating faster as the sound of footsteps came closer.
0
Earlier...
Gillian Grayson sat in her cabin, curled up on the bed, not looking at anything in-particular. The pile of clothes on the end of the bed had gone untouched. She was thinking about the circumstances that had led her to this point. She wanted to be back with the Migrant Fleet; at least there she knew Hendel and most of the Quarians. Here she knew no-one. She began to think about Grissom Academy, and the people she had left behind. Nick, Kahlee Sanders, even her own father... All of them were far away now, where they couldn't help her.
Her father had explained very carefully that she had to separate from him to keep both of them safe from bad people who wanted to hurt them, and for a while she had been able to get on with her new life. Now it had been over two years, and she missed her father dreadfully. She felt that she had to find him. If he was in danger, she had to be there to help him. Her mind had screamed in protest at the idea of going to find him; she knew the Flotilla and was safe there, but something about this ship, the Serenity, had calmed her, reassured her that wherever she went on this ship she would be alright. Still, she could not get used to the crew. They were not bad people; she just did not feel that she could connect with them.
Now the ship had landed. If she didn't feel the harsh bump that came with the landing, she would have taken the silence of the engines to be a very bad sign. Silence on the Flotilla usually meant something had broken, and for one moment she had almost run up to the engine room to check on the drive core. She had picked up a lot of new habits in the two years she had lived among the Quarians, and now that she was with the Serenity crew, she felt as if she would have to pick up some new ones.
The minute that had followed the landing was when she started hearing the whispers. They were very faint, and she could not tell what they were saying, but she was sure that she was hearing voices that weren't there before. At first she wondered if the other crew members were just having a conversation and she couldn't hear it properly. She decided to take off the helmet of her environment suit and try to listen without it getting in the way, to be properly sure.
There was a soft hissing noise as she peeled the helmet away from her head. Long and unkempt black hair tumbled out as she placed the helmet on a side table. Taking a quick glance of herself in the small mirror above the sink, she realised that this was the first time in two years she had seen her face. She couldn't take her helmet off on the Flotilla even if she wanted to, due to the risk of infection spreading. She looked older than she was, her dark brown eyes peering out of a young face that was pale due to such limited exposure to sunlight for the past two years. She had gotten so used to seeing just the reflective screen of the helmet that seeing herself like this was quite a shock.
Yet, in spite of her ears now being clear, she could not hear any of the voices of the crew. She still heard the soft whispers, niggling in the back of her mind. It was then that she felt a strange impulse to reach towards the back of her head, and pull out the Technomantic cords that she had not used in a long time. She remembered using them a few times at Grissom Academy, where the teachers tried to help her use this ability properly. She couldn't recall exactly where she first learned how to use it, but that didn't seem to matter now. A few times her emotions had gotten the better of her; she had once thrown a boy across the dining hall with her cords because he had touched her and teased her, and prior to joining the Flotilla she had used them to reduce a group of Cerberus soldiers to a pile of atoms and a bloody smear, said smear being caused by her dropping a forklift on top of them. By and large, however, she had never needed them.
Now, however, she felt as if she needed them more than ever. She could not explain where this feeling had come from, but at this very moment it made the most sense to pull out her cords. So she did so, allowing the ghostly glowing cyan threads to drape onto her arms. She looked at them curiously for a moment. As she had not used them for such a long time, seeing them now was like a brand new experience for her.
All of a sudden the cords moved by themselves, stretching out and touching the floor and walls. This didn't bother Gillian so much; after all, it wasn't the first time they had moved of their own accord. She looked down at them, and noticed that they seemed to be branching towards the door of her cabin. It was almost like they were pointing somewhere and wanted her to follow them. Her mind began to scream in protest at this; she had become familiar with the Serenity over the past few days. She understood now that it was familiar, that it was safe. In her cabin, everything was as it should be, in spite of the unwanted arrival of the new clothes. In spite of this, she felt an inexplicable feeling that, whatever was outside, then going out to see it was not just advisable; it was necessary.
Trying to shut out the screaming protests of her own mind, she followed the glowing cords and slid the cabin door open, walking out into the comfortable-looking common room. She didn't bother to look at the comfortable chairs, the coffee table or the Shufflepuck table, nor did she pay much attention to the box-like infirmary on her right as he strode towards the door to the cargo bay. No-one was around, and Gillian preferred it that way. It meant that she would not have to answer any awkward questions from these unfamiliar people.
She was about halfway across the cargo bay when she suddenly stopped. She could hear someone else walking along one of the upper gantries. She stood there frozen, wondering what she should do should someone approach her. It was then that she heard the voice again, only this time not as a whisper, but now loud enough to drown out even the screams of protest in her head:
"Don't waste too much time on the goons," said the much stronger female voice in her head. "Their lives are not to end today, but try and keep them out of your way. Knock them out."
The airlock door was closed, but the ramp outside was still lowered. One of her cords shot out towards the control panel by the door, where it immediately began to do its work. Gillian didn't have to know how the control panel worked; somehow she just knew that the cords would do the work she needed them to do. It was as the doors slowly began to open that a voice above her said "What the-?"
Without even turning to look where the voice was coming from, her cords shot out and grabbed the interloper, slamming him against the ceiling of the cargo bay. They then proceeded to slam him down into the gantry, and there was a grunt as the figure was knocked out. Turning briefly to look in his direction, Gillian saw that the figure she had knocked out was the gargoyle, Alistair. Of all the people on this ship, he made her the least comfortable. There was something about him, like some fundamental part of him had been damaged beyond repair that she couldn't put her finger on, and it made her scared of him. Alistair groaned, not having the strength to move, as she walked towards the open airlock, feeling the breeze from the planet touching her exposed skin. It had been a while since she had felt the wind on her face, and it felt strangely good.
"Gillian?" a female voice suddenly called out from behind her. She assumed that the voice belonged to the woman known as Call, as she never usually went outside the ship. However, Gillian paid her no attention, and strode out beyond the airlock door. Her cords wound towards the control panel, and with a loud hiss the doors began to close.
"Gillian, no!" Call shouted, and the sound of running footsteps could be heard. Gillian just continued to walk outside, her cords swinging out and attaching to the ground again, crawling towards the cave entrance as the airlock door slammed shut. She was sure that the Serenity crew would try to open the door, but her cords had removed a key part from inside the control panel. It could be fixed, but it would take them time to do so, more than enough for her to do what she felt this impulse to do. She crossed the floor of the chasm and went into the cave, without even stopping for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on her face.
"Don't worry," said the voice in a soft tone. "Don't be afraid. Trust me, there is something here that will help you and your new... acquaintances."
Gillian's mind again began to scream in protest, even as her body moved across the mess area, stepping over the bodies of the fallen mercenaries, her cords feeling their way around every surface. She didn't know who this voice belonged to, for one thing, and she didn't like being out in places she was unfamiliar with.
"I've known you longer than you have known me," said the voice, as if it was picking up on her doubts. "But formal introductions must wait for a more appropriate time. Just know that I am on your side. But we don't have time to argue over it. You have to trust me. I won't steer you wrong."
Gillian wasn't sure if she should trust something that didn't even have a name. However, it didn't look as if she had any choice in the matter right now, so she decided to carry out this voice's instructions. As she walked down the rocky corridors, her fear and anxiety about the voice was beginning to give way to curiosity. Who did it belong to? Why was it telling her to do these things? Why did she feel the compulsion to do them, against every rational thought? Curiosity was something that she didn't experience often, and with good reason. Her father had sometimes used the phrase 'Curiosity killed the cat', and she had come close several times to finding out what that meant. Still, she reasoned that if she did what the voice wanted, she could go back to somewhere familiar sooner.
As she walked into the final chamber, she became dimly aware that the rest of the Serenity crew were already there. She could see both the changeling captain and the Sangheili stood there, looking highly surprised to see her, lowering their weapons. The Spartan in blue armour was doing the same, though Gillian could not see her face behind the visor. She knew what it looked like, but without being able to see it Gillian had to admit that she felt very uncomfortable at present. Before her was a tall silver sculpture with a small holographic display at the base. She continued to walk towards it, the Technomantic threads moving around the chamber, caressing the walls and the occupants.
"Gillian?" she heard Alan ask, looking annoyed but keeping his distance. "What are you doing here? Get back to the ship!"
"Ignore him," said the voice. "Plug into the beacon."
She saw Alan take a step towards her, but as she moved her arm forward the cords shot out towards the sculpture, forcing him to jump back out of their way. Dorva reached out a hand to try to grab the cords, but his hand passed right through them. Seconds later, they attached themselves to the small console at the base. All of a sudden she saw a million images flashing before her eyes, appearing and disappearing so quickly that her brain didn't have time to process them. They soon became a blur to her, but every now and then she thought she saw clear shapes and shadows, realms that she didn't think anybody alive had ever seen.
The strain of taking in so much information at once was wearing on her. She felt as if her head was about to split open, and she could hear her heart pounding loud enough to blot out any other noise. She couldn't even hear her own scream of agony, nor did she feel anything as she collapsed to the floor and the cords flew back into her head. She couldn't see Nicole pulling off her helmet, and both she and Alan rushing over to her, frightened out of their minds. All she could see were the images from the beacon, and the depths of the Array. The outside world ceased to exist for her in that moment.
0
"How the fuck did she get off the ship?" Alan shouted, his eyes almost bulging out of his head, he was so angry.
"Don't shout, boss," Alistair groaned, clutching a bag of ice to his head as he reclined on the common room sofa. "My head feels enough like a smashed pumpkin as it is."
Alan, Nicole and Dorva had wasted no time in getting Gillian back to the ship as soon as she had collapsed. They had been shocked to see the airlock doors closed, and were lucky that they could still open them from the outside. They had taken her to the infirmary while Call had tried to fix the door control panel. They had not taken off yet, as Alistair was tending to his wounds, and in any case Alan didn't want him flying while he was concussed. The panel was now fixed, and Call was trying to find out what was wrong with Gillian while Alan had started a tirade against his crew in the common area. He could not believe that this had happened, that Gillian had put herself in so much danger and his crew had not been able to do anything about it.
"Alright, I'll ask again," Alan snarled, his tone softer but still angry. "How did she get off the ship? Why didn't anyone stop her?"
"It's not like we locked her bloody cabin door," muttered Alistair. "Besides, what could we have done against a Technomancer?"
"He's right, Excellency," said Dorva. "If Technomancers are as powerful as I keep hearing they are, then Alistair and Call are lucky to be alive."
"I don't believe this..." snarled Alan, running a claw through his hair. He knew that Dorva was right, but did not want to admit it. "Alright, as soon as we get back out there, she's going back to the Migrant Fleet. I don't like having a loose cannon on board."
"Oh, this coming from the guy who once threw Telek 'Heros off the top of a building," Nicole snapped, standing up and glaring at Alan.
"Why does everybody keep bringing that up?" muttered Alan, diverting his eyes away from her penetrating glare. "Besides, I don't see what that has to do with-"
"Oh, I think you do," said Nicole. "From what I've heard of the Fleet Shadow of Fury, you're the one who's considered a loose cannon even by their standards. It'd be pretty damn hypocritical of you to toss Gillian out." She folded her arms, her impressive height making her look all the more imposing. Alan was silent, taken aback by Nicole's attitude. Of all the people in the room, this kind of back-talk was least expected from her. He exhaled deeply and turned to go back into the infirmary.
"Everyone just get back to your stations," he said. "Alistair, as soon as you feel fit enough, get Serenity back in the air."
"Sure, boss," replied Alistair, moving the ice-bag to cover his left eye, which was somewhat blackened. "Just give me a century or two before the world stops spinning."
Alan headed into the infirmary, where Gillian was laid on the bed, completely still. Call had opened one of her eyes and was shining a light into it. She shook her head as she pulled the light away and allowed Gillian's eye to close again.
"Any idea what's wrong with her?" asked Alan, moving in for a closer look. He could see Gillian's chest slowly rising and lowering, so she was clearly still alive.
"I'm not sure," said Call, shaking her head and putting her torch on a small table. "Her life signs are stable, but she's completely unresponsive to outside stimuli. It's like she's fallen into some kind of coma, and if that's true there's no telling how deep she is." She moved away from Gillian and stepped out into the common room. "There's nothing we can do for her now but let her rest. Dunkelzahn alone knows what the monument planted in her head."
"I'm wondering if it was another Forerunner beacon," said Alan, as he followed Call out, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Like the one Shepard came across on Eden Prime. If that's the case, we'll probably never find out what she saw; she's probably never going to speak to us, and Kiryuu seems to be the only one who can figure out those visions without his brain imploding, and I'd rather not get him involved. He's got enough problems as it is" He started to head up the stairs towards the dining area, Call walking beside him.
"I couldn't help but overhear you back there," she said, as they reached the corridor connecting the dining area to the engine room. "Are we really giving Gillian back to the Quarians?"
"We sure are," said Alan as they strode through the dining hall towards the bridge. "Not just for our sake, but for hers. She'd be more comfortable back on the Migrant Fleet, and in theory be less prone to freak-outs like this as a result."
"Good luck making her go back," said Call as they reached the bridge, Alan sitting himself at the co-pilot's console. "If what Hendel says is true, she's not going to want to leave until she finds her father. We'll probably end up stuck with her, and I'd rather you not get torn to pieces trying to force her back."
Alan looked over at Call, his eyebrow arched. "You know, Bishop was better at the whole analytical pep-talk thing," he said.
"I'm trying," said Call, folding her arms. She knew that Alan was only joking, but she still didn't like to be reminded of Bishop's absence, knowing that the old pilot was a hard act to follow. The awkward silence that followed was interrupted by a beeping from the communications console. Alan hit a switch and patched the caller through. It turned out to be Kiryuu, his reptilian face displaying on one of the multitude of screens on the console.
"Ah, good timing, granddad," said Alan. "We've found what we think is a Forerunner beacon down on Joab. I'm sending you the co-ordinates now, if you want to send a team in. The Blue Suns were hogging it, but they won't be a problem." As he typed in the co-ordinates and sent them to Kiryuu, he noticed that the mecha looked rather distracted. Normally such news would be big to him, but there was a look of great worry on his face. Alan always took this as a warning sign; if Kiryuu Knight of all people was worried, the situation had to be bad.
"What's wrong?" Alan asked, his expression becoming sour.
"Well, I don't wish to sound ungrateful for your report," said Kiryuu, "but some worrying news has been brought to my attention. I've been monitoring all the communication bandwidths that I can, and I found something on what I thought were Turian channels. They claimed that one of their patrols has disabled a strange ship out on the borders of the Attican Traverse. From the way they described it, it sounds like the Collector ship you saw is now floating adrift."
"Well, that's good news, right?" asked Alan, shrugging. "About time somebody did their damn job."
"Here's the problem, Alan," said Kiryuu, interrupting him. "Turian communication channels usually have three layers of encryption. This only had one. My conclusion is that this transmission did not come from the Turians. Anybody who knows how their channels are encrypted would not be fooled by this, but not everybody has detection protocols that are capable of finding out these things."
"A trap..." muttered Alan. Somehow he had the feeling that things were not so straightforward. He paused for a moment, scratching his chin, thinking things over. The idea that was now forming in his head was not a good one at all, but he failed to see any alternatives.
"Send me the co-ordinates," he said. "We'll go take a look."
"Alan," said Kiryuu, his eyes widening. "Did you not hear a word I just said?"
"I did," replied Alan, leaning towards the monitor. "I don't think we've got any choice though. We may not get another opportunity to take a closer look at these Collectors and figure out what we're up against." He looked towards Call for a moment, who now looked at Alan as if he had completely lost his mind, before turning back to Kiryuu. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't think my team could handle it."
Kiryuu sighed, running a claw through his green dreadlocks. "You always were so reckless..." he groaned. "Very well. I'm sending the co-ordinates now. I still say this is a very bad idea, but if you think you can cope, then go. Just be extremely careful; there's no telling what the Collectors have prepared for you, or anyone else who goes on that ship. Good luck, and Godspeed."
With that, he signed off. Alan sighed and leaned back, now wondering whether he was making the right call. He knew it was a trap, and that if the Collectors were working with the Reapers this trap could take many forms. On the other hand he knew he was right; they may not get another chance like this to expose enemy weaknesses. He looked over at Call, who was now looking very worried.
"You do realise this means we're all walking into this trap too?" she said.
"Like I said," Alan said, standing up. "I'm sure you guys can handle it. If it turns out I'm wrong, you're free to hand in your notices."
"Before we all get slaughtered, of course," retorted Call, shaking her head. Alan just sighed as he reached for the intercom.
"Alistair," he said. "Hope you're ready to fly, as we've gotta dust off now. I'll explain where we're headed when you're up here." Trying to ignore Call's dagger-stare, he sat back down at the co-pilots console, rubbing his temples, trying not to picture the looks on everyone's faces when they found out that they were headed straight into the belly of the beast.