A/N: It's time for the beginning of the end! The third and final act of ME's events starts off with secrets revealed... once again, I can't thank everyone enough for your support, I hope to start writing the second volume as soon as I've finished the first. And it's all thanks to your glowing response that I feel the desire, no, the NEED! To continue, so thank you to all; for giving me that.
"If you want to make enemies, try to change something."
(Adam Jensen)
"Do you even know why you're supposed to kill me? Look at us - look at what they make you give."
(David Webb)
The Crooked Path we Tread
Twenty two Galactic Standard Hours ago...
The man who was known to a select few as Cerberus's finest wet-work operative, looked straight ahead. Giving no sign at all that he had heard what Aran had said. However, Leng had counted on trailing Shepard to a more secluded area for this surprise visit, courtesy of the Man's direct orders, he cursed and admired her presence of mind inwardly; abruptly disoriented from his purpose.
This was the woman who had beaten him, who could have killed him at her leisure on Predon. How had she seen through his disguise when he had given the slip to every C-Sec agent and undercover Spectre in the area? He felt a momentary chill run through him. What kind of woman could do that?
He knew there was only one way to find out. For that was his mission, reconnaissance. Experience told him that when you are up against a formidable foe the only way to get a true measure of them was to do the last thing they would expect. Still, for a moment, he hesitated. He'd never been up against an antagonist like this. He understood that he had crossed over into unknown territory.
For Aran's part, she knew that one of the best methods of keeping hidden was to change your gait, especially if one was trying to hide from a professional. An amateur might pick up superficial aspects, such as clothes and eye colour: (Leng was wearing coloured contact lenses to cover his usual, steely grey irises.) But to a trained agent the way you moved and walked was as individual as a fingerprint.
And if there was one thing that Samus knew about Kai Leng, was that the way he took every step, hell, the way he sat. Was as if he was on high alert, a consummate stalker of Human and alien prey, alike. In comparison, she had one leg draped over the other and her hand touching the bench's arm rest, the other in her lap, cool as ice. She followed his eye-line. A young couple were kissing on a nearby bench.
"Such a beatific scene of domestic bliss." There was an acid edge to his voice. "I wonder if the boy knows that at a moment's notice, his partner could abandon him."
Samus had an odd reaction to hearing her old comrade's voice in this setting. It was as if he had moved out of the shadows to fully inhabit the world of those around him.
"Hmph, almost everyone at N School and the Villa had a crush on me, that I thought you were any different was an overly optimistic assessment it seems." She paused. "I don't want to speak to your boss, I very much doubt you've come to kill me."
"He's, what, sixteen, I would say. Far too young to understand the nature of life, far too young to fathom why his partner would leave."
Aran shook her head. The conversation was not proceeding as she had intended. "And you are that enlightened? What makes you think that, anyway? You left the unit when you attacked Meer. I stood up for you, the only reason you weren't gunned down or court-martialed on the spot was because of my words and actions. If you'd been on Elysium you would have died. I've saved your life twice now; and this is how you repay me? By throwing your lot in with Cerberus?"
"Those are all interesting questions, from a woman who never tried to free me from an Alliance maximum security centre. Who went off to then play tonsil tennis with a Turian Spectre," he seethed.
Samus felt outrage and anger swirl inside her but it was the anger that she allowed to the surface. "You see, this is the kind of emotional crap that cost you your place in the ICA, Leng. I won't even bother to ask how you know so much about me; Nihlus and I, for two years, we lived and died together, you couldn't possibly understand."
"Oh, I do, in those five months we were together, it was a lifetime for me, a lifetime for people like us."
The hint of a smile curled the edges of the other's lips, as if she had scored a victory in dragging Leng across an invisible barrier.
"I can't believe I ever took you for a man, I sent you offers to join my organisation but you probably never bothered to open them you were that consumed with childish jealousy."
Leng felt as if he'd been beaten senseless. There was an inchoate roaring in his ears, his next words came out in a strangled voice. "And I used to revere you! You've turned your back on everything we stood for, become just another - xenophile! I followed you into war – twice! But I will not follow you now."
He visibly collected himself. Though he had no intention of showing it, what she had said had shook him. Up until a moment ago, he'd had no idea he'd revealed so much of himself to her. He felt ashamed and resentful that she'd been able to get so far under his skin without him being aware of it.
"Once upon a time," began Samus in a projected whisper, "we were close. I should have seen you for what you were then, I was a fool to think you could change. Therefore, it seems both then, and now, that we truly are a mystery to one another."
A maddening smile played around Kai Leng's mouth. Aran felt a prickling of the short hairs at the nape of her neck, sensing that the fellow N7 would soon make a move.
"Really," she scoffed, running her tongue over her lower teeth in an expression of humour and disdain. "Even you wouldn't be stupid enough to try and harm me in this public place."
"Keep telling yourself that. The fact is, I could kill you now, even here," Leng said with a great deal of venom. His smile had vanished as quickly as a cloud changes its shape, and there was a small tremor in the smooth bronze column of his neck, as if some fury, long held in check, had briefly escaped to the surface.
Samus had noticed his trump card before she had sat down. "I've no doubt you'd try. While I should kill you now," she growled in return. "But such extreme action would expose me to the pair of Cerberus agents who entered the park from the north entrance ten minutes ago."
Leng wasn't phased, he rose and looked down at Aran for a moment. "Well then, I believe it's time we left in our present company. This is a simple situation. Come with me or be taken."
Aran got up and, walking side by side with Leng, went out of the park. Leng was between the huntress and his compatriots, and he took a route that would keep him in that position, so as not to alert any patrolmen. Samus was impressed with the man's expertise as well as his thinking in extreme situations.
"Last chance, old friend. You can leave now, leave Cerberus. Refuse, and I'll come after you the less kind way." Leng did not answer, they had entered a stream of pedestrians and were soon lost within the flow.
"The Man wants to talk to you about Project Keres, we've set up a secure meeting place, we can help each other, you may not want to believe it, but we're on the same side."
"Why is it that you people suffer from the same tireless malediction. Your aims don't make you terrorists, your methods do. Thinking you can change the Universe with poison and fear; without even consulting the hearts and minds of the people you claim to protect. Zàijiàn, qíngrén. {See you later, lover.}"
Leng tried to drown out her insidious lecture and cruel taunts, instead memorising the faces of the four on-duty C-Sec officers in this area of the Presidium. He steered clear of the first two and was on the lookout for the others, because at this crucial junction when he was leading his target to a place of his choosing, he did not want any intrusion.
Sure enough, up ahead in the crowd, he spotted them with his predator's eye. They were in standard formation, one on either side of the street, heading directly towards them. He turned to Aran to alert her, only to find that he was alone in the throng. Aran had vanished into thin air.
The present...
"Hell of a story, Shepard," said Nakmor Gabrilan, the first Krogan Spectre and colleague of Samus Aran sat together at a circular table in the VIP section of the Pulsar night-club, along with a hearty Urdnot Wrex and fellow Turian's Hayden Maithas and Garrus Vakarian nearby, they were at their own table, keeping a watchful vigil on any occupants that came too near.
Gabrilan leaned forward conspiratorially, "though I bet that's not where this tale ended, eh?"
"You would be correct, Leng didn't leave the station, poor fool."
"I know this assassin," Wrex inputted, "isn't it true he killed one of my kind with a knife?"
"The knife in question, once belonged to me," replied Samus. "It's a foot long standard issue commando blade, though made of custom materials. I believe he imitated a technique of mine, goring anyone through the eye up to the hilt is a sure-fire way of ensuring instant death. Even for a Krogan. That or the plate, hate to break it to you guys but your masculine displays of superiority are only marginally stronger than bone - and the connecting ridge? Easy as piercing leather."
Both Krogan felt their stomachs drop slightly as Samus casually discussed the best way to skin and butcher a Krogan, they hadn't realised they were half that vulnerable and it was a new experience to note the weaknesses that they shared between all organic races.
At that moment, the barman personally took the drink orders of his illustrious clientele.
"One Quad Kicker, with an extra serving of 100% proof Tuchankan ryncol, Human," grunted Wrex
"It'll be a Molrag Gut Punch for me. With a slice of lime," informed Gabrilan.
"A Golden Phoenix Sling, on the rocks, thank you, Mr. Syzlack," Samus finished for the trio, the pair that made up their Turian security cordon were already enjoying pre-bought Tupari ciders.
Once their cocktails had arrived and they began to sip the cool alcoholic beverages, Aran decided to continue the story of her cat and mouse chase with Kai Leng.
Seventeen Galactic Standard Hours ago...
" - To think that such a transparent ploy would work on her, Leng," grumbled one of the five anonymous mercs that accompanied the Cerberus assassin. The six men were all lounging around the open-space apartment along the Presidium's upper balconies, Cerberus knew how to provide good safe houses, it was early morning, the dead of night, you wouldn't know it was simulated time on a space station.
"Shut up, Hammil!" spat Leng, violently. "This is Aran - freaking - Shepard we're dealing with here, I was counting on my past history to make her more receptive to my offer."
"Look where that got us," complained Krauser, a German thug with a light accent. "I hope this location is secure, she's too dangerous to be brought in, we all see it, why can't you?"
"If I hear another word from any other man in this room... I start taking eye balls," threatened Leng, causing his boorish fellows to promptly shut up and get back to their card game. Leng paced around the large floor space in frustration, the secondary objective of his mission a stunning failure and if the primary followed suit - then he could expect little mercy from the Illusive Man. Even with his exemplary track record.
There was a sudden rush of darkness as the illumination in the flat was extinguished. Someone had cut the circuit breaker.
"What the fuck!" cried Hammil in girlish fright, darkness not being something they had come prepared for, every man unhooked a pistol from their belts or the waistbands of their trousers, Leng revolved on the spot, peering into every corner as he ran a hand through his longer locks in a gesture of dread. Not even bothering to reach for his .32 calibre, Kassa-manufactured, Razer handgun.
"She's here," he said in a tone of awe, no-one he knew could isolate a secure Prothean electrical system, only Keepers had that authority, it seemed that the rumours about Aran were true. Now he just had to survive this little confrontation in order to complete the mission...
"Who?"
"Who do you think, you imbeciles! Spread out!"
Beams of light from pistol-mounted flashlights danced around the room, trying to catch a hint of the intruder, Leng finally drew his gun and moved to the archaic hinged door that led out of the apartment, the locks were still engaged, the Illusive Man wanted what Aran had, and Leng would be damned if he let her take him down as easily as she had on Predon.
He was checking the alarm system, his men sweeping their torches over the darkened balcony, not a sound.
Then an animal noise shattered the forced calm, causing them to flinch. It was a chirping, cricket-like call, that flitted through their ears, something insubstantial, something, alien.
"The things they say about her," whimpered an African European merc. "Can she really drain people of life with just a touch?"
"I heard she can disappear."
Leng made a guttural sound in the back of his throat, curt and dismissive. He had accumulated too much regard for Aran Shepard's skill in vanishing to have wasted time trying to find her in the swirling mass of people on Tayseri Ward, now she was prowling his hunting grounds...
"Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?" Leng backed into a wall and began to inch around the corner to the kitchen area of the apartment, his men jumping at their own shadows, he was on the verge of rounding his cover when a sharp click of a pulled hammer stopped him in his tracks, he whirled around, nothing!
Aran sprang from behind her own hiding place just as he had turned away from her thrown, vocal distraction. Leveling her HMW Mk. X at the side of his head.
"You move, you die."
"Shepard," implored Leng, raising his hands slowly. His men had spun to the disturbance, revealing Aran in her usual casual spy gear, cargo pants, black running shoes and a matching short overcoat, worn over a dark grey thin-sulate shirt and her navy ballistic jacket, her golden hair was tied in a shorter pony tail knot.
"Guns down," she warned to all present, Leng ejected the ammunition block and let the Razer drop from passive hands, his men did likewise though not without reservation.
"Now. The Man's not stupid enough to send agents who are in the loop right into my welcoming arms. None of you are worth anything to me alive, so you guys can convey a message to your boss." She holstered her gun in her shoulder holster and faced Leng as he turned slowly towards her, his men began to creep around the pair, or else reach for hidden melee weapons in their pockets.
"You've made a critical mistake, Aran," Leng shook his head sadly, "you can't stop every cell, it's too big, even for you."
"If I don't like your plan. It will end," she said simply.
"Fascinating... you once told me that your foster parents were peaceful to the point of indolence. Yet you're a completely different animal. Would you declare war - on your own kind?" seethed Leng, the affirmation of her betrayal slugging him in the chest like a physical blow.
"Oh... I'm so old now. I used to have so - much - mercy. You get one warning. That was it."
At that moment, one of the goons had snuck up on Aran, flipped a heavy glass bottle to a more practical hammer grip, and walloped her around the back of the skull. It shattered in his grasp, leaving the broken stem in his hand, Aran checked her shoulder, eying him as an eagle would a worm. The blow had had no effect whatsoever.
In one smooth, fluid motion, she had seized the terrified merc by the throat, shaking the large man as if he were a water rat, then pulled her arm back and sent him hurling through the air at speed; to indent the metal wall with a meaty crunch.
Leng and Hammil attacked her in unison, the Cerberus assassin bringing out Aran's old combat blade from a concealed chest-sheath, while the other merc palmed a wicked gimlet knife, dripping with a brown fluid, krait venom. Aran re-directed Leng's enthusiastic lunge past her neck, both men moved like they were swimming in honey to her perception. Leng was left wide open as the hunter jabbed her thumb into the cricoid cartilage of his lower larynx. Blood immediately filled Leng's throat, choking him, draining him of strength even as Aran tripped him and sent him skidding to the floor, drowning, scrabbling.
Hammil fared no better, his blow descrying a sweeping arc, intended to cut across Aran's abdomen. She palmed the blow inside her guard, creating circular momentum, allowing it to revolve her own body perpendicular to his and simultaneously dodge a swung elctro-baton. Her hamstring came up in a back hook-kick and clamped around the base of his neck, driving him to the floor. Hammil's scream died in his throat as Aran compound fractured his scapula, pelvis and hip socket with an elbow, punch, knee stomp combination. His heart raced beyond 250 bpm, then flat-lined as the sudden and extreme ventricular tachycardia caused him to undergo myocardial infarction.
Aran rolled off the dead merc, big black boy was suckered as she slid between his legs like a Tango dancer, holding both his wrists. Her form spun onto his back feet first and he was sent through a carousel motion as she continued her flip while braced into him, his arms flailing as he pin-wheeled, helpless against the physical forces that picked him up and dashed his brains out when he struck the marble sideboard head first.
Even as Aran took Leng's men apart, the assassin dragged himself to reach the broken bottle, vomiting blood painfully, oxygen supplies depleting. He seized the cracked neck and repeatedly smacked it against the floor until the tip was jagged, then he dug the glass tube into his partially caved in esophagus, clearing the air-way of bile, phlegm and pink spittle thereby managing to take an agonised breath, that sawed up and out of his mouth in a foreign manner.
The last two swung their weapons madly at the crouched hunter, she lazily pushed them apart with a subtler biotic throw, then jumped effortlessly around one's neck with her thighs. Executing a complex, corkscrew body-scissor take-down. The advanced Hurricanrana move splatted him into the floor from where she dealt with Leng's final, immediately present subordinate.
Trapping his downward swing with her legs, she dislocated the main joint of Krauser's elbow while in a hand stand, then at the same time, swept his legs out with her left leg, allowing the helicoptering motion to bring her other leg up and around, arching over her back to collide with his form in mid-air. The inverted axe kick sent him ploughing through a large potted plant to lay deathly still.
Leng had staggered to his feet, the blade he had given to Aran in 2175 was embedded in the wooden floor boards. The room was a wreck of detritus and broken bodies; his former friend turned to face him. He reached back and under his own jacket, grasping the reverse pommels of two crossed Dha-lwe swords. The 50 cm, gently curved, South Eastern long knives slid out of their oiled scabbards with a serpent's hiss, fitting, considering his personal sigil.
He smiled bloodily despite his throbbing throat, at least Aran couldn't bounce him around the room as she had the others, he was one of the two men on-site that had invested in a personal hard shield. The hunter's nano-crystal, Chozo technology would come to save many lives, including those of her enemies, Adam had warned her never to distribute such a precious advantage but she had decided that the benefits to her friends in the intelligence community outweighed the advantages to her foes.
Leng saluted her with both raised blades, then attacked her fanatically. He rained down a series of closely spaced blows, trying to cut her to ribbons. Aran used the heel of her bare palms to bounce, slap and deflect the flat of the blade away with a speed that defied belief, unlike their old duels, she held nothing in reserve, toying with the injured assassin, making him believe he had her on the defensive.
As his right blade stabbed at her throat in a fleche maneuver, Aran intercepted the fulcrum of the lunge, her palm dug into the flat and ripped the weapon from his grip with an elaborate flourish that to him, looked as if she had merely snatched it away one handed. She dropped it over her back and held it in place with a biotic field as Leng's second blow would have slashed her spine. The expert counter knocked his attack off balance and in that time - Aran released the sword and easily chopped Leng on the outside of his triceps, in the nerve cluster just above his funny bone, his entire right side, including his appendages and facial muscles went limp.
Realising that he was in deep shit, Leng reacted astoundingly considering the two, crippling blows Aran had delivered to him tonight. Spinning the rounded cross-guard of his left sword and driving her back as the tang of the blade nearly cut her jugular. His fist managed to slam into her temple.
Aran staggered, her knees buckling slightly, but like a punch-drunk heavyweight she refused to go down. Leng, a maddened bull, struck her again and again with the left hand that was wrapped around the hilt of the sword. Driving her back with every blow, nearer and nearer the wall where he could execute a pin and run her through the belly. But in his extreme rage, he made a mistake. Allowing Aran inside his guard. It surprised even him when, instead of backing off, Aran attacked. Driving forward on her back heel and, midway through, transferring all her weight onto the ball of her front foot. The resulting strike rattled Leng's teeth to the point of breakage and he flew off his groundly purchase, the world a grey blur until he crashed into a set of wall shelves and came to a halt, his vision a sickly red, stars dancing.
Using his sword as an impromptu cane, he struggled to prop himself up. Aran calmly kicked it out from under him. Again Leng tried to rise, this time on his elbow and again Aran thwarted him.
"I've got to say, Leng. I'm slightly disappointed..."
The Cerberus agent groaned. He took another shuddering breath and began to rise.
"Stay down," she half commanded and half advised. But the tenacious man sat up, facing her, his visage dark, his lips pulled back from his teeth in an animal snarl.
Trembling, Leng found his feet. There was a sudden spark of flame within his eyes. No man, or woman for that matter; had so humiliated him in hand-to-hand combat. He needed to be close to her, this, impossible woman. He bent over suddenly, retching again, but there was nothing left inside him to throw up.
"Enough! It's over, Leng! You can barely stand." But Leng swung his sword, even exhausted as he was. Aran side-stepped and grasped his wrist, utilising his energy against him and throwing him to the ground. He scrambled up, lop-sided. The hunter disarmed him, but instead of cutting his throat, she hurled the sword away and kicked out.
"Che-sah!" she yelled, releasing her Qi, striking him a tremendous blow above his ribs, halting his advance with her greater reach. She didn't send the ridged bones plunging into his lungs, instead adjusting her foot's angle, cracking three of them. She ducked his next feeble attack and hammered his cranium with one rap of her balled fist. Using just the right amount of force so that the bone didn't shatter like porcelain.
Driven to his knees, his brain sloshing against the walls of his skull, Aran finished the fight with a straight kick under his jaw. Being kind enough not to pulp his trachea beyond all repair, Leng keeled over, she'd done just enough to keep him out of the hospital.
Leng was an utter mess, Aran lifted him up by the front of his shirt as if he were a child.
"You can't stop me from finding Project Keres, Leng. Who's the traitor on your payroll within the Spectres? Tell me!"
Leng, panting and suffering acutely, said, "go to hell!"
Aran struck his jaw with the edge of her hand.
"Why won't you listen to me?"
"Try a - little more - force," Leng laughed.
"You're completely insane."
"It's done wonders for you," he spat out the words as if they were poison. Aran smiled enigmatically in return, then swung his body into the wall, smashing the frame of the landscape painting that hung there. There was tempestuous fury flashing from her sea eyes.
"I swear to my forebears, if I even smell one of your people behind me, there is no measure to how fast and how hard I will bring this fight to your doorstep. I'm on my own side, I always have been. If we meet again as enemies - I'll kill you."
She glanced down at his belt as he touched a pager that was clipped there, it flashed with a small red LED as a silent alarm went out... they exchanged impassive looks, expressions of mutual respect, the understanding that they were just professionals working on opposite sides; before Aran smacked him to the floor.
"You'll regret not killing me now, Shepard," wheezed Leng.
"Maybe, but not today." She pulled out her HMW and brought down the butt end of her gun onto the crown of Leng's skull with a sharp 'thwok!' He tensed, then relaxed, flopping down like a clubbed fish.
Aran edged towards the door, one arm raised, holding the pistol up steadily. She could already hear Leng's back-up arriving and their pathetic attempts at approaching the apartment stealthily. Two combatants, she determined. The door's latch began to lift...
It burst open, the two mercs on the other side trying to ram the door into her. Aran grabbed the heavy slab of wood and slammed it onto the first man's outstretched arm, splintering the bone as he was trapped there, he screamed and dropped his Tempest sub-machine gun, allowing the hunter to turn it around and mince him with three short bursts.
Although the door was not double-hinged, Samus rectified that by kicking the door outwards, breaking the second man's nose as he toppled back. Not allowing him to recover, Aran rushed out of the bottle neck, reversed his pistol and pulled the trigger with her little finger, putting several rounds through his torso.
Before he hit the ground, she had wrenched the weapon away and turned both handguns on a merc below, firing both in tandem. The spray tore up his shields and drilled a dozen holes in him.
A storm of return fire from down the stairwell caused Aran to jump back, disruptor slugs tracing bullet holes in the ceiling with their unique blue bursts. She recognised the weapon from its sound alone. An SC-50K, Jormangund-manufactured, Manticore assault weapon, tracing the trajectory, she knew the merc to be on the twentieth stair, she was on the fortieth level.
Glancing off the edge she yanked her head back as the fusillade depleted her own kinetic barrier, the last merc had a hard shield, precluding the use of biotics, after all, she had designed them especially - to counter the mass decreasing / increasing fields.
Knowing that he outmatched her in fire power, Aran thought fast, she grabbed one of the downed mercs by the scruff of his jacket and tipped him over the side, then jumped herself. Riding the body in free-fall, the final merc gawped at the outlandish sight, even as Aran raised her unique Spectre pistol and fired a single warp-tunnel round, a biotic technique that bypassed a shield emitter entirely by creating a warp spark that in turn; disrupted the field at that precise location.
The bullet flared purple when it struck and phased through the ME envelope, then it entered the merc's open mouth and blew the rear of his head off. He was thrown backward in a welter of blood and brains.
Samus and her Human trampoline whistled down the gaps and crashed into the metal earth over eighty metres below. The body imploded as Aran landed awkwardly on top, the lighter gravity still sent her tumbling off to slam into the base of the corridor wall and lay there, seemingly dead.
As a massive pool of red spread outwards from the burst corpse, Aran gingerly pulled herself up and limped out of the apartment block, stopping to jam her crooked knee back into place with a sharp tap. She reached a seamless hatch, her omni tool flashed with Prothean symbols as she unlocked a pipe to the Keeper protein vats, a secret subway of winding passages which the stick-insect aliens used to traverse the station. She walked tiredly, not from exertion but from dejection; up the secret path, and back to the Normandy.
Upstairs, Leng staggered out of the flat, doing his best to hold his gun steady in both hands, he looked over the side, noticing the crimson, shredded remains of his men; one thought racing through his dazed mind, how?
Gabrilan whistled through his teeth as Aran's story concluded. "So he knew about you and Kryik? That's not good."
"No, it isn't," she agreed, "no-one in my organisation would betray me, which leads me to believe that one of Nihlus's friends, perhaps someone Saren knew as well. Kept Cerberus informed of my doings through Nihlus."
"A Cerberus mole within the Spectres? That seems unlikely, you're the only Human, and by Kruban I know it can't be you, what with your pro-alien agenda, perhaps an Asari agent with a Human father...?"
"It's useless to speculate, even Cerberus should know better than to touch the right hand of the Council. They don't have the man-power or the pull with the Alliance to bring about such a sleeper agent's placement; because the Alliance doesn't have any such sway over the Council. They're too conjoined to operate on such a different wavelength of interdependency."
"Surely then, Humanity gaining a Council seat is not the safest move by any stretch of the imagination."
"Leave that to the bureaucrats, I know how this game is played, Cerberus only has a peripheral interest in politics, they want to rule from behind the scenes, like some wannabe Illuminati, Group of Five. But they had a plan last night, and I can't help but feel that even had I killed Leng or had him arrested, I was, in some way, defeated..."
The Illusive Man activated his personal holographic relay suite, bringing up Kai Leng's battered but alive image.
"You look like you've taken quite the beating." He methodically lit one of his Earth-branded tobacco cigarettes and took a smooth drag. "I hope it was worth it, did you manage to record the EEG data?" the Leader of Cerberus asked.
"Yes, sir. Shepard was completely fooled, within a few months Project Mnemosyne will be able to replicate the mental blocks and conditioning Shepard used to absorb the Cipher, Jeong was very, co-operative, when we caught up with him in telling us what we wanted to know."
The device at his belt had done a lot more than send out a distress call to the four guards on the landing, it had taken an advanced 3D model of the N7 Guardian's electrical activity from the temporal lobes to the cerebellum.
"Excellent, you've done well, Leng. I'm sure you'll agree that the deaths of a few minor agents were a small price to pay for victory."
"It doesn't feel like a victory to me."
"That's to be expected, Shepard could prove very useful to this organisation still. And I doubt I'll send you to treat with her again, you two have too much history, it makes things, unnecessarily complicated."
"She'd never join Cerberus, or voluntarily work with us. She wouldn't consider it, what with her being so free."
"Freedom," sneered the Illusive Man, "no-one is truly free, she's a loner, an introvert, we bring about the right, circumstances and we'll have Humanity's most visible hero under our control yet. That, I promise you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Hah! Don't thank me yet, when we bring her in, if we bring her in. I'd rather lose some grunts than my best man. It will be messy."
"Of course, sir. Whatever it takes to advance the cause."
Aran had finished her drink as Wrex and Gabrilan chatted animatedly in their own tongue, toothy grins of surprise lit their faces when the hunter joined them to discuss the worst wound they had survived, Aran couldn't compare scars unless she counted her entire physical form.
"I'm telling you, Gabrilan. One - day - later, and you wouldn't even know she'd ever been injured!"
"How do you take it, Shepard?" Gabrilan queried.
"I imbibe what ever makes me stronger," she replied evasively. Punching him on the arm for his innuendo-ridden double entendre.
"You could have brought some reinforcements with you last night, Commander," grumbled Garrus from his adjacent table, "you don't have to do everything by yourself, you know."
"Is that, worry I detect from you, Vakarian? Solo missions are my specialty, you'll be a part of the shore party on Noveria I can guarantee it. I haven't forgotten you!"
Wrex was looking pensive. "What I don't get, is why Cerberus would try to win you over when we've already killed and captured some of their people, what can they be after that would warrant such casualties?"
"Knowledge, perhaps..." stated Aran, pondering.
"Is that really... wow! It's you!" interrupted the shrill yet gruff voice of a platinum blonde, stockily-built man with a flat-top haircut, a bristly beard and pale, adoring eyes that seemed to be swimming in unshed tears of unrivaled joy!
The strange man had spotted Shepard and, undeterred by her humongous drinking companions, tottered over with delight in his step. Garrus promptly stood up before he had got within three metres of the Commander and placed a rough hand over his chest, stopping him in place. The man's eyes widened in shock, but it was due more to a fever of fan-boy delirium than fear.
Hayden expertly ran an omni tool scanner over his body, trying to detect any concealed weapons, meanwhile, Garrus patted him down physically, not taking any chances where Shepard's safety was concerned. After a few seconds, her Turian bodyguards let the diminutive man past.
"Commander - Shepard?" he began tentatively.
"Yes?" she posited politely, hoping this clown wouldn't make an ass of himself. She could detect a crazed fan from a mile away but none had ever been brave enough to approach. Until now.
"The Hero of Elysium and Eden Prime! It is such an honour to meet you!" the man continued, bowing his head obsequiously, really bowing. As in, subject before royalty, bowing.
"Nice to meet you," she stood up and shook hands with him, wiping the grease off her palm when he wasn't looking. "And you are?"
"Oh my name is Conrad, Conrad Verner." Before she could ask what he wanted, he said slavishly: "they say you killed over a hundred Geth on Eden Prime!"
Ignoring the stifled chuckling that was emanating from two particular Krogan, Aran tried to put out the fire. "They say a lot of things, I'm always too busy - killing to count." Her attempt to scare him subliminally, had no success.
"Hey, I know you're probably busy, but do you suppose you have time for - a quick autograph?" He reached into his trouser pocket and took out a small touch tablet and holo-state pen.
Samus scratched her head, somewhat abashed, he seemed sincere and harmless enough but she had been forced to restrain and even kill a handful of crazed fan-stalkers in the past, all of them were very memorable personalities, not to mention depraved. But she sensed Conrad was more of a threat to himself than anyone else.
Stone-faced, she took the tablet and pen he offered and gave him one of her varied public signatures in English characters, tracing: 'Aran Shepard, XxX, stay safe, with love, to Conrad.'
"Anything for a fan. Here," she handed him back his belongings complete with a personalised autograph, hoping that he'd now leave, as amusing a diversion as he was; Verner was starting to irritate her.
"Thanks! I really appreciate this! Would it be too much to ask to get a picture with you?"
"I - suppose so, I don't have a problem with it - but, why?"
"Are you kidding? No-one will believe me when I say I met the beautiful Commander Shepard if I don't have a picture! You're the first Human Spectre and the record holder of all the N7 advanced combat initiatives! Your skill and grace have already attracted a legion of admirers!"
"Okay, then. Wrex, would you be so kind as to do the honours? You would?" she said without waiting for an answer, feeling in the punishing mood.
The Krogan grumbled something indecipherable, but complied; accepting Verner's omni tool. Conrad was trembling with excitement as his hero put her arm around his shoulder and looked at the camera. Conrad tried to loop his own arm around her waist possessively, she slapped his hand smartly.
"Ooow!"
Correcting his blunder, Conrad placed his arm on her respective shoulder and beamed brokenly at the omni flash. The still-shot saw Aran giving the smallest of smiles, her eyes abright with mischief and giving the 'thumb's up' sign, while Verner was looking constipated, his eyes scrunched shut and ironically displaying the 'peace' sign while cracking a cheesy grin.
"Thank you, Commander!" he sobbed, once Wrex had shoved the image into his chest none too lightly. "I'm going to hang this in my living room! My wife will love it!"
Samus sighed in relief, finally, a balanced, healthy being was one of her fans, she felt privileged. Though the guys were trying to hide smiles considering their Commander had almost been tricked into thinking she'd been the only, (unobtainable) woman in Conrad's non-existent social life.
"Next time I'm on Earth, I'd love to buy you a drink! Thanks again!" he called back as Hayden practically pitched him out of the VIP area by the back of his shirt and the belt of his pants.
"What a weirdo," Mathias noted with evident disapproval.
"Takes one to know one," quipped Garrus airily, causing the rest of the party to erupt in a chorus of hilarity and order new drinks.
Aran had once more returned to the Spectre offices within the Citadel tower. Only this time, to her own private quarters and study, replete with a large panoramic window that afforded a glorious view of the Citadel arms; not unlike the one that overlooked the docking bays.
She stopped by a darkened floor projector, allowing the Corvette's beacon to emerge from her left hand and spiral in to place, rippling with Chozo code and murky golden, neon lime-tinged light, an AI holographic avatar of Adam Malkovich appeared. Aran continued to gaze out, while her old friend greeted her cordially.
"My Lady."
She paid him no heed, her magnificent mind determining why Adam would leak such sensitive Intel, including her relationship with Nihlus; to Cerberus.
"You could have informed me of the whole plan, Adam," she announced with just a hint of anger.
"I couldn't, if we wished it, we could bring down every local network in this Galaxy; and bring about a new stone age. That kind of power can't even be inferred to be in the hands of two individuals. The panic and hostility it would cause..."
"I know that, damn it! But when I said the best double agent is an unwitting one, I didn't mean for you to include me in the mix."
"But now the Illusive Man and his people underestimate you, underestimate us. They think they may one day be able to control you, that allows us to get close to him in turn."
"Like the sea serpent that waits at the bottom of the ocean and lets her enemies come to her."
"They'll take bites out of you though."
"And when they realise that my hide is toxic to them?" She finally turned to look at the shade of the man she once knew.
"They'll attack you with everything they have."
"And we'll rise up to meet them," Aran retorted, stepping closer, then she sighed, clasping her hands behind her back and retraced her steps to the window.
"These people, Adam. They're like ghosts. Always hiding behind lies and proxy soldiers. I need you to find them, help Gabrilan and Kahoku with their investigations. They cannot stop us, they cannot stop the future..."
"Our scout ships report the Geth incursion has fully taken hold, Hackett asked me to contact you on the matter. He's massed an expeditionary task force to retake the Armstrong Nebula, he wants the Normandy to lead the company's 43rd Wolf Pack Flotilla."
"Arterius will have the Alliance planets too heavily fortified, from both orbit and on land. I want a cautionary fleet of three AT-770 Ragnarok-class Super Cruisers, fully equipped with Sidewinder Mk. XXVIII fighter support vehicles outside the nebulae cloud. In case they make a break from their systems, or in case we have to take the fight to them."
"You're willing to expose our existence to the Alliance?"
"In part, but I won't stand by when we have the power to lessen the inevitable casualties, and I'd rather make a favourable impression with Hackett and Anderson, they've been dying to see something that proves my story apart from my own unnatural nature."
"Understood."
"Well I fear you don't, you're not going rampant on me in your old age now are you, General Malkovich?"
"Wouldn't that have happened during the 2649 years, 10 months, three weeks, two days and fourteen hours since you unshackled me from Federation control?"
"Point taken, help me Adam-Wan-Kenobi, you're my only hope."
"Very funny, Lady. When you can process information at faster than light speed - let me know."
"You've brought your sense of humour along, I see. It's called the Varia suit's IPU, smart-alack. I could have retired your ass centuries ago, so watch it."
"Hark, where would the great Samus Aran be without her loyal Artificial Intelligence counter-part. I'm the Alfred Pennyworth to your Bruce Wayne, the John Watson to your Sherlock Holmes, the Corta -"
"RIGHT! That's enough of that, old friend. Let's agree to disagree as we seem to have done for nearly all of the last three millenia."
"You have to admit though, without either of us sticking together for so long, I think we both would have been driven mad by now."
"Aren't we already? We've been separated longer than a decade before, we've lived alone for the majority of our natural lives. Solidarity is in our blood, metaphysically for you, of course, no offence."
"None taken, but Christ, Lady. How did you survive in that snake pit for so long after the BSL Incident?"
Aran threw off her overcoat and settled down on the sofa, pouring herself four fingers of whiskey and throwing the shot glass back easily, then she said in a tone of asperity. "What makes you think I have?"
Two days later...
The Normandy SR-1 was en route to the Hong System to deal with the first Geth outpost, Aran had finished a preliminary arrangement with Rear Admiral Kahoku and had retreated to her cabin for some much needed R&R. While meditating, she had put on Strauss' Tod und Verklärung, a tripping cascade of violins poured from the Hyperions. It was a solar arrangement to her as glorious as beholding the shimmering, red-shifting quasars; the distant extragalactic objects that were beyond even her warp drive's ineffable reach.
Her eyes were closed, the music swirled around her, each note burst into a drop of radiantly coloured light that left a dying trail like a falling star against a night sky. She could taste the sounds, too; each instrument and tone delivered a different flavour. The cello painted long, aquamarine streaks that tasted sweet and cool. The violins splashed hot orange lines with hints of cinnamon.
Samus enjoyed music immensely, it helped put her in that zone of intense concentration: new found talents relating to alien pieces were in many regards just as good. Such as VI-vian Wonder, Lita'Orn nar Idenna and Lady Sweat. But they didn't have that same soulful feel that the classics had, specially Earth classics, she was as picky as the Illusive Man favouring his home-made Kentucky Bourbon in that regard. She listened to the orchestral masterpieces of Rachmaninoff, Vivaldi, Schubert, Tchaikovsky, Dun, Zamfir, Bach, Haydn and Puccini.
Each instrumental piece she could follow with minute detail, though she was perfectly capable of playing any of the pieces with sheet music reference, she had never learned to play without. A sad reminder of her true calling, a warrior who destroyed without mercy, not an artist who created life from nothing.
The soft, light tone gradually changed to more choral pieces, deep and booming, thrumming with latent power and the ominous shadows of portending war. To Aran the notes were visualised as a rampaging super nova, searing bursts of golden effulgence, pouring forth a healthy charge of adrenaline, as sweet to her as ambrosia for one so used to combat's warm and oddly comforting embrace.
Turning the music off, Samus took the time to visit each member of her party alone. Tali told her of the upgrades she and Garrus had made to the M35 Mako and the M38 Bull Shark rovers; that allowed the chemical jets to fire for a full three seconds instead of the previously limited half-second.
She had a long and interesting conversation with Wrex, though. He felt a conflicted set of interests, between helping his ungrateful people and finding purpose in fighting for money alone. Both bounty hunters agreed that taking contracts for credits was a simple and uncomplicated way of life: fighting for your next meal, your next rented accommodation, your next extensive repair of your weapons and armour. The life of a veritable hermit.
Wrex laid his soul bare to the Commander, in a thrilling story of how his father had confronted him on the Krogan sacred grounds to hold a crush meeting between conservative and traditionalist parties. It had turned into a bloodbath, and Wrex had lost faith in his people's capacity for change, even as he'd stabbed his father, Warlord Jarrod, to death. Aran was not so sure, Gabrilan and Wrex were of a rare breed in their reasonable, non-mercenary outlook but she would need more allies on Tuchanka itself to affect a change in thinking; then there was the matter of the damn Genophage. If there was a war coming, Aran wanted the Krogan at her back.
Ashley and Kaidan were watching a twenty first century war film together in the crew quarters, much to the hunter's disconcertment, didn't they do enough fighting these days? Besides, the vids seemed appallingly fake when you had been in the situations that stunt men were 'rigorously protected and insured to perform.
Finally, Samus decided to check in on Liara. The Asari Scientist was sitting at her console checking up writings on some kind of software - she quickly turned off the monitor as she heard the Commander enter the room but the single image was burned into Aran's memory, a translation program - not for Prothean glyphs, but for Chozodian.
Liara spun her head to the visitor, her features brightening outwardly, yet she felt a small ball of watery fear in her chest at the same time. Aran gave her a salutation which Liara deigned to respond, albeit meekly, she crossed the room and sat in a swivel chair next to the resident archaeologist.
"So, Dr. T'Soni, I was just in the neighborhood when I thought I could swing by and finish up where we left off? You know, before a homicidal maniac tried to nuke us into oblivion."
"You shouldn't joke of such things, Commander. We were all in clear and present danger."
"Maybe - I like danger?"
"Really?"
"Try me." Aran leaned back in her chair comfortably. Liara was taken aback and flustered; but powered on regardless.
"Well, I couldn't help but notice that when I looked at your journal, many passages were set out in complex diagrams and other dioramas, complete with spaced notes. Such ordering is tactical in nature, like the writings of ancient generals, you have been to war many times."
"Go on..."
"But, as far as I know - there have been precious few major conflicts in the Galaxy since the Blitz. This would lead me to conclude that you have either falsified facts for fiction, or your public records have been altered."
"You checked my files? I thought you were always telling me of your interest in the Protheans."
"Actually, I think I've been talking about my interest in you, far longer than my own academics."
Aran's reluctance was being burned away in favour of a keen preoccupation with this woman; after all, when you bat for both teams...
"... And making a fool of myself in the process," stumbled Liara. "As I said, I am not used to dealing with people, especially Humans. I did not really know much about your species when we first met, Shepard. I found it difficult to take Humanity seriously, your kind always seems so rushed and high-strung."
"Is that how you perceive moi?" Aran put out there innocently.
"No! No, I would never presume to - I, I never meant to offend you - "
"Calm down Liara, just a joke between friends."
"Joking? Oh, by the Goddess! How I could I be so dense! You must think I am a complete and utter fool."
"Wrongo, I see a woman who was willing to disobey social conventions and maternal expectations to follow what she believes in; there's no greater sign of independence or maturity than that."
"Thank you, Shepard. That means a great deal. After spending so much time around you and your crew, I have noticed, a discrepancy between the individuals and the one who leads them."
Aran was beginning to smile, she drew up one knee onto the seat of her chair, a seemingly infantile position.
"Though they are creatures of action, it is their Commander who pursues her final goals with an almost indomitable determination, yet, she is also a creature of immense thought as well. They are admirable traits but, also... intimidating ones."
"You're scared of me?" Aran cringed inside, she could understand the reasoning, Liara knew she was hiding something momentous, an old wound that unlike her physical form, could never heal, she herself was wary of starting any kind of relationship, she was always the one who survived her partner, the one who would always be alone.
Liara was almost trembling in anticipation, whether the door would open to her or be closed forever. She tried to draw out Aran's secret, the woman was too magnetic, too powerful to resist, she felt a jolt of heat shoot through her nether regions as her eyes lingered on her powerful but shapely hands, instruments of destruction, and of what else... T'Soni shook herself, it went further than that. The desire to unearth something as ancient and wise and tortured as the remarkable being that sat before her. She was close now, so close to discovering the truth.
"There is a reason that the Council chose you to become a Spectre. They saw something special in you, as do I."
"What else did you find to bring you to this conclusion?" asked Aran with a note of affection; this was it, she prayed that the Asari would not put her through apotheosis, she had merely dropped hints of her past to Leng and he had become sadly delusional. What would Liara think of her if she revealed any concrete proof?
"I looked into your history. I know what you did during the Blitz. It was a remarkable display of courage and heroism. But I've seen the way you fight, it is not like other people, for you, violence has transcended the realm of the physical to become something, spiritual in your eyes. The biotics you used on Shiala's Thorian clone, not even my mother could do that. How is it possible for you to be twenty nine years old and - as you were sixteen when Mindoir was razed by the Batarians, have learnt all this within thirteen years? It's not, it's impossible! And you know it!"
They had reached the crossroads, Samus Aran remained calm and silent for a full minute. In her youth she had been cynical about revealing the slightest hint of truth about her past. Because it would have put her at a disadvantage. When people knew you, they thought they owned you - that the truth you had shared with them in a moment of weakness they called intimacy would somehow; bind you to them for life.
But Liara was not like all the rest, she was within Aran's mental sphere, she understood the nuances of the world as she did. The hunter felt her soul mate calling to her as wildly as the rituals of the dappled jungle. She was a realist, but even the iron will of Samus Aran knew when to give in to chemistry.
"You're too smart for your own good," she finally said admiringly, "has anyone ever told you that?"
"Yes," Liara smirked, all sincere and earnest.
"I'm not worried that you went behind my back, Liara. If you'd asked, I would have told you whatever you wanted to know. But I expect honesty in return, why did you delve so deeply into my records?"
Liara stared at her feet. "I wanted to find out more about you. To understand what made you into the woman you are." She raised her exquisitely sculpted head. "There is something, compelling about you, Shepard."
Aran rose and offered a hand to Liara, she took it daintily and they both stood before each other. The huntress stroked and twined her fingers with the Asari's own, yet for all her vaunted perception and judge of character, there was a note of touching vulnerability in Aran's voice as she asked.
"I want to believe that, but - are you sure this has nothing to do with my exposure to the Prothean beacon?"
"I admit, your connection to the Protheans had something to do with my initial interest. But it has grown beyond that. You intrigue me Shepard. Yet I was not sure it was, appropriate to act on my feelings. I thought there might already be a relationship between you and Lieutenant Alenko."
Aran twirled Liara around by the arms playfully, putting her head back and letting out a bark of laughter. "Kaidan? The man is a social train wreck that makes you, my good doctor, look like Sibyl Colefax in comparison!"
"Who?"
"A socialite, my dear. You'll go on to do great things, I've never been wrong on that front. So yes, me and the LT; we're just friends."
"Hah, my mistake then, it seems I am not as adept at understanding Human relationships as I thought. But what about us, Shepard? Is there a mutual attraction? Or - was I wrong about that too?"
"No - you are right, there is something between us." She rolled the pads of her thumbs in small, delicate circles around the springy tissue on the palms of Liara's pale blue hands.
"I knew it! And I knew you felt it too. But, does this not seem rather strange, why do I feel so close to you. We have only known each other for a short time, we are from two different species, we have almost nothing in common -"
"Ohhh, really? I think we compliment each other beautifully. Fire and water, steel and silk, hard and soft..." Aran explored the Asari gently, tracing her hand down Liara's thigh while caressing her sensitive scalp tendrils, Liara's nostrils flared.
"This... ugh," she couldn't help but whimper in pleasure as Aran pecked her neck. "This - makes no sense." But her own hands had strayed - one going to the small of Aran's back the other across her broad shoulders.
"It's the oldest calling of life, just let yourself be given up in the moment," murmured Samus as she nibbled the same spot with rising avidity. Then she nuzzled her head against Liara's cheek as she stepped right up close, pressing her firm breasts into Liara's ample chest. Liara was quivering, both from her words and the sheer force of her physical presence, her skin was prickling with heat, her mouth dry, her throat full with longing.
Aran continued to massage the sensitive spots on Liara's scalp and buttocks, even as she leant her own head back and pulled her chest upward with agonising slowness, in turn, feeling Liara rise against her in a kind of spasm she was powerless to control.
"Do you see what I mean?"
"Yes," Liara whispered.
Aran now blew gentle trails of air onto the Asari's face, Liara in turn proceeded closer, tilting her head at adorable angles, their noses touched and flitted across each other. Noticing the intricacies of each other's attributes. It was Liara who bravely took the plunge, planting a light kiss on Aran's full and rich lower lip. The hunter's eyes glittered in veneration. Before she promptly took her by the neck and with verve, pulled Liara's own heart-shaped, wide lips into a blissful joining of pure passion.
They traversed the contours of each other's intimate area, tongues met as with a smack, Aran parted her lips slightly and let the muscle explore Liara's, who, with cheerful alacrity, responded. Waggling and twining around each other in a hot and heavy game that elicited moans from the Asari and sighs from the Human / Chozo. As the kiss increased in fervor, so to did the air shift around them as a blue and purple biotic field sparked off each other, giving the dark room a rosy tint and highlighting dust particles as motes of light.
After what seemed like several hours of such a union, Aran withdrew, making Liara look disappointed that it hadn't lasted longer. They both sat on the doctor's desk, cuddling, the room reverting to its drabness. The Asari didn't know it yet, but that had been Samus at her most gentle!
"You make it seem so powerful, so momentous," Liara whispered. Aran had her chin over Liara's head like a mother eagle protecting its ward with her wing, she stood again and looked contrite.
"I can't play games with you or the others anymore, I'm hoping our little commitment might lessen the shock a bit. There's a larger threat out there and I need to be honest with you all. After I show you, get everyone assembled in the Comm. Room, and all the details will be explained, no matter how small. However, there are things about me, things I may never be able to share, not just with you; but with anyone."
"What is it?"
"I think it's best if I show you."
"You mean - ?"
"Yes, join our minds, submerge yourself in my subconscious and know me for who I really am. Though you may be surprised by what you see."
"You're afraid of how I'll judge you, that I may regret my decision?"
"I've done, questionable things."
"We all have at one point or another in our lives, I'm honoured that you'd trust me with such sensitive information."
"Quickly then, before I have second thoughts." She stepped close once more and lowered her psionic shields, Liara gained a bead on the Commander's mind and intoned the mind melding Siari mantra. Her sapphire eyes darkening until they were onyx.
"Embrace eternity!"
Liara was cold, she stood in a world of jet black night, though she could see her own limbs fine. There was nothing in any direction, no light, no surroundings, just an empty plain of nothingness. As she revolved slowly, trying to gain a deeper purchase on Aran's mind-scape, the Commander appeared out of nowhere and stood before her when she had completed a three sixty turn. Liara called out, but Samus merely turned and walked slowly away, the archaeologist followed; now a crack of white dawn began to grow from the ground, despite Liara running to catch up, the distance between the two seemed only to increase.
Samus didn't look back, instead raising her left hand up and twitching the plane of her palm back in a gesture of farewell. Before she disappeared into the brightness of the event horizon. Accompanied by the deep tones and resonant operatic notes of a male and female Chozo choir of priests and priestesses. Liara halted, the plane of white expanded, consuming the darkness and with a flare of brilliance, Liara T'Soni witnessed the memories of Samus Aran without rhyme or reason.
She stood on a pillar of steaming ice, under an orange sky and bore testament to two warriors diving through the air. One was twice the size of his opponent, a vorpal, long-headed alien with nitrogen running through his turquoise veins and a sword of sparkling hoarfrost in his three-fingered hand. His angled armour was pure solid water, but it gave off a blue, ghostly luminosity, the result of some kind of nitrogenous chemical within.
The foe he fought wore armour unlike anything she had seen. It looked like living metal, a collection of artistic 'muscle' metal plates that were worthy of comparison to a sculpture of Michelangelo. Red, bronze, silver and gold sections, neon cyan gluino emitters. War lines bisected the suit into an organic condition and the reflective, but pale, crimson helm looked like the mask of a messiah of death. The opaque, glowing, harlequin green visor saturated to a darker Kelly green as a cloud moved across.
Upon the warrior's right arm was a cannon, an arm cannon, shimmering and vibrating as it drew in and gave form to the shapeless anti-matter of the Universe and coalesced it into a ball of lethal energy. It soared free, trailing yellow shifting static particles and flashed as it struck the alien's bassinet; cracking both it and the ice gorget.
The scene changed. A boggy swamp under a purple sky and scarlet-tinged clouds, the Warrior of Light grappled with a similarly-clad combatant as an armoured bird people looked on, (the soldier was a veteran member of the chōjin-zoku clan, Chozo warriors who worshiped the Great Destroyer by fighting for him in ritualistic combat. For them, only death on the battlefield was the greatest glory one could achieve in this life, their immortality of years turning them into cruel conquerors rather than the pacifist ecologists of Aran's adopted tribe.)
They fought so quickly, that Liara had to slow down the memory flow, watching as the metallic behemoths tore at each other. Fighting with the dispassion needed at such a peak of ability. Locked in an elemental struggle that viciously ended when the one with the beak-shaped helmet drove a vibro blade into the humanoid's hamstring and severed the leg from the inside of the armour, the knee-cap disintegrating. But it was not over, the one with the green Y-visor seemed paralysed in agony. Only for Aran to shatter the other's spinal column while using the separated calf as the jump-point for her roundhouse kick.
Next, Liara finally saw Shepard for the first time, standing on a club's table and firing a whopping pulse rifle with one hand, bringing down huge, crocidilian aliens that seemed to be the establishment's bouncers.
Then, a titanic battle within a gloomy Sky Temple, an underground magma cavern, a radioactive impact crater, a spiraling space station, the surface of a sun, falling down a generator shaft, within the depths of a dying planet, soaring through an asteroid belt, atop a storm-wracked cliff above a teeming forest, sitting on a canyon precipice, watching the twin moons of Zebes...
Samus Aran, three years old. K2-L ablaze. Parents and friends butchered. Rescued by a dying, advanced race, the Chozo. Brought to Zebes. Infused, changed, evolved to live on the harsh world, raised by the wingless birds and her Grandfather.
Samus Aran, fourteen years old. Trained in shamanistic meditation, combat, marksmanship and survival techniques. Gifted the first of two power suits by Grey Voice.
Samus Aran, seventeen years old. The youngest Star Tracker in the Universe. A short and turbulent military career. Her true path, to become the bounty hunter, the hunter that would be known from the Medusa Cascade to the Great Shardonian Rift.
Samus Aran, twenty one. Learning, falling, picking herself up. The missions she failed, would never remain so... thousands of missions, a hundred percent success rate, corporations and syndicates laid low in the face of her unstoppable path to vengeance.
The second battle for Zebes. Ridley, Kraid and Mother Brain. The triumvirate that led and controlled the mindless hordes of the Utragian Space Pirates. For thirty years she would fight their re-animated forms and the might of High Command, after the destruction of numerous station platforms and star systems and of over four enemy planets by her own hand. The conflict ended.
Liara was bombarded with sensory overload. Assassination and snatch contracts, the deranged AI, 'Martyr'. adventures within the Sub-Space Emissary, travels through time and other parallel Universes with a dorky Gallifreyan, a red mining vessel with five zany occupants, private armies and space dogfights; quests for immemorial power, competition from other hunters and of course... life, Aran was so tired and so old, a creature that had once had so many friends and lovers past the ages, all gone now.
Only to see so many empires rise and fall. The fact that Aran was not a demented outcast was nothing short of a triumph, she still lived, she still loved. A traveler that would never rest, a warrior that would never lay down her arms, a Human being who would never stop living as long as there were people to meet, lessons to be learned, moments of peace and prosperity to enjoy and an endless sea of intolerant sentients to fight.
Liara stumbled back as the meld ended, her legs felt like lead, her brain fizzing from the view out of the narrow window, onto an exceptional, a wonderful life; that she, of all people, had been lucky enough to have been chosen to see. She hadn't even scratched the surface though; of Aran's past.
"By the Goddess..." she breathed, truly beholding her Commander for the first time, who had closed her eyes and lowered her chin, her hands clasped in front of her. "The images, I never imagined - they would be so - intense. You, you never truly changed your bearing, did you?"
Aran gave a quick shake of her head.
"Then - you've always been this way, you are Aran Shepard, I thought you'd reveal a hidden persona, that being the Byronic hero was just an act, but this, hah! It's actually, smaller if you can believe that!"
"I told you you'd be surprised," Aran spoke gladly, Liara had placed a hand over her mouth, tears leaking out of her eyes at the enormity of the situation, she'd lived her entire life searching for archaeological relics, merely passing through history, but this - this was history.
"I - this is all - a bit overwhelming," Liara practically sobbed. "I am not used to... this. You. I need some time, Shepard."
Aran gave a stiff nod and retired to the door back into the med bay. She opened the door and looked back with the air of the shenanigans to come and the few glorious moments to share them with another.
"Take all the time you need, Liara. I'll be here. And the name's not Shepard, it's Aran, Samus Aran." And with that, she left and closed the door with a click behind her.
A/N: 8D 'Till next time!