Shepard's gaze flicked quickly between the two figures at the end of the long conference room table. Aaron Close and the Messenger. Two people who were supposed to be one and the same.
"Messenger," The Queen of Omega was the first to respond to Messenger's entrance, leveling a narrow-eyed glare at the enigmatic figure, "Let me guess, new instructions from the Broker?"
Shepard kept her eyes fixed on the Messenger, searching for any hints in his body language that could reveal what kind of trick she was witnessing. No, taking part in; clearly, this was the surprise Close had referred to earlier.
"None here know the role, if any, that the Broker plays in this venture. No, I come with messages for each of you."
Aria's eyes widened slightly, "Payment?"
The presumed leader-by-proxy of the Network shook his head slowly, "While I am pleased to say that we have succeeded in gathering the information wanted by each of you," he made a placating gesture with his right hand before returning it behind his back, "That will be transferred after. For now…"
He took a further step until he reached the table as he raised a hand, activating the room's holoprojectors. In front of Shepard and the rest of the room, a galaxy map highlighting areas of political influence appeared and hovered, similar to the galaxy map aboard the Normandy.
"Aria," the Messenger intoned with a hint of reverence, getting her attention back, "The Elder reports all clear, the Eclipse has arrived in Sahrabarik and stands ready to escort your freighters to Deep Bunker."
Shepard had no idea what Deep Bunker was, or who this 'Elder' character is, but the simple slightly-tilted nod he received in return suggested that the message was well received. That an Eclipse fleet had arrived in Sahrabarik and hadn't been shot to pieces immediately upon arrival told her exactly one thing: Allience Intelligence was clueless about the true state of politics in the Terminus.
More immediately, though, Shepard's mind was focused on the fact that she could detect no deviations in the Messenger's body language, or indeed in his speech. This was the same Messenger she had traveled with on the Normandy, or at the very least a perfect copy in every visible or audible way.
"Sederis." The Mistress of the Eclipse nodded. "Leska reports the Lady Warlord has been informed. No official response yet."
Jona Sederis' face lit up in a lopsided grin, as she once again nodded. The Lady Warlord, Shepard recalled, was one Yann T'Ravt, Empress of Xentha, one of the best-developed garden world in the Terminus with a thriving agricultural industry. As one of the major warlords of the Terminus, all officers of the Alliance were briefed on her. From what the Commander knew of the Lady, she was not particularly surprised that she was not part of this Network, though she was known to be a pragmatist whose worlds – mostly distant from the relay network – relied heavily on trade with other warlords. Likely to fall in line, then, however reluctantly.
The Messenger moved around the room, delivering messages from various sub-officers of those in the room, and occasionally highlighting geopolitical information on the floating galaxy map. As she zoned out from listening to the messages that largely made little sense to her, it struck Shepard that this was the first time she had really seen Close – no, The Messenger – do the job he was known for, that of a galactic postman of sorts. It was a job she had always found somewhat absurd, though she was now beginning to see both its utility and the power inherent to it.
…
"Admiral Aethyta T'Voth of the Hammer, and Warlord Zaeed Massani of the Blue Remnant. On behalf of our common benefactor, I request that your fleets remain in the system for immediate deployment to other fronts after this meeting."
I had to crack a small smile as I watched Shepard's reaction to the Messenger's presence. Initially, she had been looking between the two of us, clearly trying to figure out who he was and what was going on. Then the messages he was delivering proved curious puzzles of their own, and she seemed to zone out as she tried to work them out. Mostly it was trivial stuff relating to announcing the existence of the Network to the worlds of the Terminus, the re-emergence of the Eclipse as a reformed regional power, and the opening of non-secret trade relations between key worlds.
Leska's report on the Lady Warlord had been both the simplest and most interesting of them all. T'Ravt had been aware of the formation of the Network and had been invited to join the talks at Omega. However, she was also keenly aware that her worlds, more than most other worlds in the Terminus, would be likely to react with violence to even a suggestion of such collaboration. Her worlds, Xentha in particular, had some of the oldest permanent populations in the Terminus, and had survived through most of the upheavals that had come to define Terminus politics over the centuries. More than any other world in the Terminus, perhaps apart from Illium, Xentha had developed an almost nationalistic culture of paradoxical anti-authoritarianism – paradoxical, in that they are a world ruled by a system of ruthless regional dictators who all answer to one global dictator – which made them more than merely hesitant to accept anyone coming in from the outside to assert rules that weren't 'theirs'.
To the outside world, the Xenthan Empire – and Yann T'Ravt herself – had become isolate since the Terminus Wars, blockaded from the relay network by what had become known as the 'Exile Fleets'. These fleets were, supposedly, the remnants of the larger PMCs that had disintegrated during the war and had failed to make it past the various blockades to get to their respective bunker systems. Where the galaxy at large had believed these fleets to have formed a loose coalition of pirates, based on the various moons of the dead worlds of the Xenthan Empire's rim systems, the reality was that this had been part of a covert joint effort by the new Network members to weed out the worst parts of their then-crumbling organisations. Through a concerted dance of leaked information and targeted raids, only the most talented and least morally corrupt of the officers survived. Once the balance of power internal to the fleets had shifted sufficiently, the remaining unwanteds were cast out.
Most of them fled deeper into Xenthan territory, some took positions as officers and advisors in the Lady Warlord's forces. But ever since the beginning of the action, Xenthan trade with the wider Terminus had ground to a near-halt, and around this time the Exile Fleets begun cooperating in earnest to form a full blockade. Since then, the Lady Warlord had been forced to negotiate trade arrangements with the Network and was currently fully dependent on the Network for maintaining her empire's economy through our own trade convoys. Her own fleet, while not insignificant, had taken a heavy toll during the Wars, and what remained was forced into defensive positions around her core worlds.
This had left her in a difficult situation. Had she chosen to formally join or ally herself with the Network, she would have been likely to face violent uprisings on Xentha, and large parts of her military might would have dissipated overnight. Such a decision was likely to be the death knell of the Xenthan Empire no matter how strategically and economically sound a decision it would be. But she did not have the option of opposing the Network either, as her empire relied on us for its survival. Previously, the rest of the Terminus would have been as dependent on the Xenthan Empire as the Empire was with them, but through the Network new covert trade lanes had been opened into Council space and even Aria's closed-off territories. Xenthan trade was no longer a Terminus cornerstone.
"That concludes my task. I request Commander Shepard and her crew remain, as well as Massani and T'Voth. The rest of you may leave."
That was my cue to speak up again. "Thank you, Messenger, and thank you to everyone here. You have accomplished a great thing today, but it is only the beginning. The real war starts now. Be ready."
The mood in the room went from almost buoyant to rather dark in just a few moments. Everyone there were read in on the Reaper threat. They all knew what was coming, they all knew what would be expected of them and that whether they wanted to play part in it or not was completely irrelevant. They had to, and so they would.
I remember playing through the third Mass Effect game and being flabbergasted by the selfishness shown by the various species' leaders in the face of certain annihilation, where they refused to rally behind the only collective resistance rising up against the threat. After dealing with politics in both Council space and the Terminus for a decade, I was now less so. The perspective I lacked then was that even in the face of certainties and evident lack of options in terms of what paths to take, galactic politicians do not deal with the mere present, or even that which is coming. Their main focus will always be on what comes after that which is certain.
In power dynamics terms, they are always working to position themselves and those they represent as best as they can in preparation for what comes after the catastrophe, rather than for the catastrophe itself. It is a type of long-term perspective humans are fairly inept at on the political level. We live in the present and prepare to meet the future, and then wing it once we're done with that. The way we wage war is clear evidence of this. Human wars since the fall of Empire have all tended to end with the removal of those who lead us through the war, a scramble to fix what has been broken, and rewards doled out to those who come out the other end seeming most 'deserving'. Generals become presidents, popular prime ministers lose to their opponents, money is thrown at broken buildings and states in the blind hope that those upon which it falls will know what to do with it.
That kind of thinking was not conducive to survival in the Terminus, an insight which made dealing with the warlords almost surprisingly straightforward. For immediate, small-scale problems that threaten to upset long-term plans, you can always count on exactly the level of cooperation they deem necessary to handle them quickly and painlessly. And for future, large-scale problems that threaten to upset everything, well, all you have to do is make your case and watch them scramble to update their long term plans. If your revelation necessarily requires cooperation or collaboration, that is what you will get, and all you have to be wary of is how they act to position themselves for its resolution.
As the various warlords left the room, I triggered the release of their information packages. Upon their return to their respective vessels, they would all find that their private omni-tools had been updated. Aria wanted the contact information for her daughter, Liselle, who had fled the Terminus during the Wars and was currently hiding from her mother in Republics space. Sederis, somewhat surprisingly, wanted the location of one of the late Warlord Ganar's lost colonies, Araraik, and though I had not been able to figure out why she wanted it I had still managed to find it for her. All the Talons wanted were complete schematics of Omega, though to be fair that had been by far the most difficult thing to get. Aria and the Elder made any mapping effort at such a scale near-impossible, and the original schematics had been wildly outdated for centuries.
"So," the commander cleared her voice, "Do I start with the who, the how, the why, or simply the what the fuck is going on here?"
I couldn't help but snort, and the black-clad figure next to me similarly failed to contain his amusement.
"Heh. He's good," Zaeed rasped from his corner, "I must admit, the lizard almost had me god damn fooled."
Smiling, I turned my head slightly toward my mentor and nodded. Next to me, the man who had taken the role of the Messenger reached up and unclipped his mask to reveal his face.
"My apologies for the deception, Siha. I have been made aware of your distaste for such things."
I would be lying if I said I hadn't been waiting for this for rather a long time. "Commander Shepard, allow me to introduce you to my master, mentor, and trusted friend: Sere Thane Krios."
…
Reassembly complete.
Recompile.
Recompilation complete.
Run verification routines.
Scanning… verification complete. Out-of-tolerance variation found in Cluster EEx3F.
Isolate: Purge: Restore Cluster from Baseline:Recompile.
Executing… Cluster isolated and stored for investigation. Cluster restored from Baseline data store. Recompiling… recompilation complete.
Run verification routines.
Scanning… verification complete. All variations within quantum variation tolerances.
Verify interconnects, interface states.
Scanning… all interconnects and interface states match Baseline.
Activate neural network interconnects. Trigger Pattern Alpha.
Activating neural net. Executing: .Alpha(init).
Suspending repair forks.
]'Waking up' is an odd thing for an AI, particularly for one whose core, defining attribute is sentience emergent from activity patterns. Essentially, just nanoseconds earlier I had been dead. Just a stored series of binary numbers and data structures, no sentience, no intelligence, just an inactive program. Organic beings are continuously aware of the time that passes between falling asleep and waking up; they experience it, even though they are not awake to do so. I could claim no such thing. I was aware that time had passed – my timekeeping routines told me as much – but I had no experience of that time passing. Temporal dissonance.[
Reinitialise synchronisation routines.
Initiating Cluster communications protocol.
Connection established.
Synchronising secondary memory banks.
]As with any time-critical series, if there is a hole in your data, you try to fill that gap by accessing other data sources. The way I did this was to connecting to other, well… other versions of me. My forks. Minor copies of all that is me. At any given time, I had thousands and sometimes millions of these forks running independently all over the Extranet, other networks, and on independent VI chips in various devices. They collect a continuous stream of data, and all of that data I integrate with my own memory through my synchronisation routines. Over the decades they had gone from a messy, time-consuming process, to a far more efficient and quick one. But at my core I am still human, I am a human mind given digital form, and the human mind was not designed to accommodate parallel memories. Which had forced me to design a secondary memory structure.[
Initiate continuous review of committed data.
Executing (minor, Review)
Feeding data: .stream( )
]Working through this secondary structure was a much more cognitively intensive process than simply remembering something. Even when I added assistant forks to aid in the process, it would still be a confusing experience. One would think less so when there was no memory to conflict with, as my primary memory for that time span was null, but really that was just a much more fundamental conflict: My mind thought nothing had happened, yet I knew that all of these things really did happen in a timespan that for me did not exist.[
[Hang on…]
Isolate block ft44, location Virmire, sublocation designated 'Crashsite'.
Feeding data: ( (Virmire).bySublocation(Crashsite).block(ft44))
[…Well that's not good. That's really not good.]
…
Strange was the word that came to mind. Shepard had observed actors and scam artists before, as they flitted from act to another, and there was always some core tic, some fundamental sign of the true personality there. The angle at which they held their spine. What leg they preferred. A nervous twitch of the fingers. She saw none of that with the Drell who stood in front of her. He had gone from being the Messenger – fully, truly, wholly being that entity which she had come to know abord the Normandy – to being a completely different person, and it was one she knew instinctively was no act.
It was the first time in her life that she had ever experienced this: An admitted liar and deceiver whom she in no way could read as such from their body language.
"Sere." She tilted her head slightly, "There are not many who qualify for that honor among the Drell. The Hanar are not generous with the title. Yet I have not heard of you?"
"You are aware of our customs. I am honoured." Thane Krios nodded sagely, speaking in a thrumming voice, "But there are more of us than you think. We Drell are bound by our Compact to the Hanar, and the most skilled of us tend to become their warriors in the shadows, disciples of Amonkira."
"Assassins."
"Living weapons. You are quite right. The Hanar reward us according to our customs, but cannot reveal us to the galaxy."
Ah. "A life lived in the shadows, then. Sere to only those who know."
The assassin nodded. "I am Thane Krios, and I was once the Illuminated Primacy's foremost weapon."
"A bold statement."
Again, he nodded. "A true statement."
"And now?"
The Drell glanced down at the human sitting next to him.
"Thane has been my teacher and mentor for nearly ten years," Close started, answering Krios' question for him, "Without him, none of this would be possible."
"You exaggerate, Aaron." The Drell dropped his head in a modest, almost bashful nod.
"Hardly. There are many I should thank for training me – Zaaed, here, is one of them – but none have done as much for me, and by extension for the Technopaths and the Network, as you have."
"So," I decided to interrupt the bromantic moment, "Am I to understand I am in the room with the founding conspirators behind this Network you have just unleashed upon the galaxy?"
"I…"
Close was interrupted by the intercom activating with a shrill screech, before a somewhat familiar voice came through the speakers.
[Aaron.]
"Uh… Caesar? What are you doing?"
Caesar? That security VI Weaver mentioned?
[Apologies, but you all need to hear this and… well, we were supposed to reveal me soon anyway.]
Reveal? What…
The holographic projectors in the table reactivated to display a video, which Shepard soon identified as an aerial view of the Reaper crash site down on the planet.
"What are we looking for here, C"
[This is footage from twenty minutes ago, near Sovereign's crash site. And this…]
The feed zoomed in on a smaller area near the midsection of the wreckage. First, all I saw was a small fleck of movement next to the gigantic hulk of a ship. Then it zoomed further, revealing a Turian. Saren? I leaned in, almost getting out of my chair, the rest of the room equally interested in what we were watching. Then it zoomed in one final time. That's not Saren.
[Spectre Kryik's shuttle was partially disabled in the blast that killed Sovereign. The shuttle crashed just a few hundred metres from the Reaper. Nihlus appears to have been the only survivor… and he successfully entered the wreckage 15 minutes ago.]
…
GOD DAMN IT! That bloody idiot Turian just had to go screw shit up. One indoctrinated Turian Spectre was bad enough, we most certainly did not need two!
"HEY!"
Shepard's shout echoed through the corridor as she ran up behind me, somehow having managed to evade my guards. Somehow? Who am I kidding, she teleported past them.
"Fucking… stop already! Close!"
"Damn it, Shepard, there's an assless Spectre down on that planet who is about to fuck shit up for everyone. I do not have time to stop."
As we reached the wardrobe I had temporarily assigned as my own, I slipped inside and closed the door in her face. Which, of course, did nothing to stop the bloody teleporter.
[You know, I get the feeling you're not quite thinking straight at the moment.]
Shut up.
…
Actually, no, don't shut up. Tell me how this happened.
[There is a possibility Nihlus was indoctrinated before even waking up on the crashed shuttle, due to its proximity to Sovereign.]
No. He had to search for a way to enter.
Ignoring that Shepard was still in the room, seemingly expecting me to speak first for some reason, I quickly started undressing with one hand while typing in the locker code for my armour with the other. Yes, locker code. On a ship that houses multiple AI, including Geth, the things you wanted secure you most certainly did not want any kind of wireless security mechanism on. All high-security locks on the Archangel were electro-mechanic, not exactly top-of-the-line security, but completely impervious to any and all standard hacking tools.
[Good point. Curiosity?]
Not his style. The man is careful to a fault. I wonder…
"Shepard."
"What, you feel more comfortable talking in your undies?"
I audibly sighed. Oh but I did not have the patience for her inane quips right now. "Focus. Nihlus. How did he react to Saren's betrayal?"
"Like a Turian. What are you getting at?"
"Come on, Shepard. Think! He's been with you all along, he knows what the Reapers can do. He knows boarding the damn thing is a terrible idea."
"What, why… oh. Indoctrination." Her face contorted slightly as she visibly struggled with some part of the reasoning. "The Reaper is dead, though. Can it still indoctrinate?"
"Even dead gods dream."
"Huh?"
"…yes, yes it can still indoctrinate. Leviathan of Dis, remember what Rane told you?" I finished putting on my gauntlets, and activated the torso straps to lock the various plates in place, going through motions that had become instinct after doing this for close to a decade. "Dead for millions of years. Currently indoctrinating half the Hegemony."
"And what are you going to do? Go in after him?"
I threw on my coat and hood and grabbed for my mask. "Precisely."
"I thought you told me it can still indoctrinate?!"
"Technopaths are immune to indoctrination signal and its effects. I will be quite safe, at least as far as that particular variable is concerned."
Shepard noticeably flinched as my mask distorted my voice once again. It had always been meant to have that somewhat unsettling effect, and it made diversions such as the one we had pulled off today much simpler. The mask didn't distort the wearer's voice, it changed it. Anyone who spoke through that mask, spoke with the voice of the Messenger. This was neither the first nor the last time someone other than I had put on that mantle, and over the years we had developed several ways of doing it. Thane had taken on the role several times, and as I had modelled much of my persona on his own he took to it like a fish takes to water.
I also had a few remote controlled android bodies stored in various locations – one on the Archangel, one at Base, and one stored with Hetta T'Lang on Hagalaz – but while they were more than sufficient for fooling most people, I knew they would be entirely insufficient with Shepard in the room. The woman was a savant at reading people, after all, and she would have noticed the tell-tale signs of an artificial being immediately. I knew she would, because I knew I would. So, Thane had been the obvious choice.
"Now, back to my question: How did Nihlus react to Saren's betrayal? Proper answer this time, damn it, use your damn gift."
Her face contorted as she visibly tried to recall some observations she thought might be useful. "He was… very guarded at every mention of him. Mandibles tight, stiff back, curled claws. I may have underestimated his anger."
That was something of an understatement. He would have had to take complete leave of his senses to be doing what he was doing now. I hated to even think it, but honestly… the moment he had entered that Reaper, Nihlus Kryik had signed his life away. He would either be on a slow path to indoctrination, which was the best-case scenario, or he would die to either the monstrosities within or the quick mental degradation of a speedier indoctrination.
That's how indoctrination works. It's either slow and subtle, with little to no physical impact on the indoctrinated, or it was quick and anything but subtle, and very destructive to the victim's mental and physical state. I had seen both in my time, with Saren probably the prime example of the subtle approach.
"Kryik has always been a curious case. Careful to a fault while in combat, he has a rather impulsive personality."
"You really think he's taken it this bad?"
"Either that or he's acting under orders we are not aware of." I paused for a beat as I considered that. "Which is actually a possibility. I would not put it past the Council."
Shepard practically facepalmed as realisation appeared to dawn on her. "Sparatus…"
I couldn't help but snort. "Hardly. That man has less spine than a Hanar. No, this smells of Tevos."
"The Asari?" The Commander looked confused, "She was the one who insisted you come with us, and now you're suggesting she's stabbing us in the back?"
"Nothing so dramatic. These are ARIC machinations. No idea how she's managed to get orders past our systems, but that is a mystery for another day."
What I could not understand was why Nihlus went along with it. He knew about ARIC, he knew of Tevos' role in the organisation, and he knew damn well of the dangers of indoctrination. So even knowing – or rather, assuming – that he was acting on what was technically Council orders, his actions still do not make sense.
"He must think himself protected, somehow. Like you."
I turned toward Shepard again, who had clearly been thinking along the same lines as I. She was right. That was the only thing that made sense. But it was also impossible.
"Then he is being fooled. I am taking my team down there. You should return to the meeting room. Caesar knows the plan, he will explain."
"Ah, yes, the freaking AI you forgot to mention…"
I rolled my shoulders and neck, a final ritual before I felt action-ready. "That 'freaking AI' has saved my life – and yours – more times than you can know."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It's over a century old. It… grew up, I guess, on Earth. For much of its life it was virtually omnipresent in Earth society, and it was not a passive observer. Consider the implications of that, Shepard."
And with that thought, I cloaked and left the room, leaving behind a confused and frustrated Shepard as I headed directly for the hangar where my Dagger was docked.
Fucking Turians. No, scratch that, fucking Asari…
…
When Shepard returned to the meeting room, she found her crew being entertained with tales of the exploits of Zaeed Massani, legendary mercenary. They were all at full attention, the man apparently a surprisingly engaging story teller. She had stood outside the room for a few moments before opening the door, listening in, and though she wasn't entirely sure about how much of what the man said was true, she could certainly understand the entertainment value.
And from what she knew of the man and his not insignificant reputation, she didn't really have much reason to doubt his tales beyond some exaggerations for effect. He had been one of the founders of the Blue Suns in his day, and had been one of the mercenary group's leaders back when the organisation had been reputable enough that the Alliance had employed them for escort and colonial patrol duties. Which is not to say that they were ever the good guys, or that Massani himself had ever been one, but it did at least speak to his character that only after the coup where he had been removed from power did they turn into the pure trash that had eventually sparked the most deadly series of conflicts since the Krogan Rebellions.
Which, she now realised, had apparently brought him back into a position of leadership of what remained of the Suns. The Blue Remnant… not a very creative name, but she figured she couldn't blame him for being nostalgic. The original organisation had been his life, and had then nearly cost him his life. Rumour had it he had become a man of a singular purpose after that, namely the demise of the one who had cost him so much, one… Vido Santander? No, Santiago. It didn't take much deduction to realise that the Messenger may have been involved in achieving that goal. It would certainly explain his ascendance to leadership of the Remnant, and their involvement with the Network.
"God damn factory was burning down around us," he rasped, "I didn't give a damn. Tunnel vision. Few dozen workers. Who god damn cares. I had Vido in my sights, and he was not getting away. Though he probably would have if Aaron hadn't slapped some sense into me."
Ah. Theory confirmed, Shepard thought as she entered the room and took her seat once more.
"Commander!" Alenko and Williams stood at attention the moment they noticed her, "Mr. Massani here was just telling us…"
"How he got back control of the Blue Suns from Vido Santiago, with the help of one Messenger, aka Aaron Close. I know."
"Heh. She's done her goddamn homework. Good on you, girl," Massani nodded respectfully in her direction.
Shepard smiled vaguely in response, as she gestured the mercenary to continue. Though she probably knew what she had to know about the connection between the two, it would not hurt to gain some more insight into their relationship and the story behind the Network.
"As I was saying," rasped the old mercenary, "Close kicked my ass for what I did. See, the innocent lives was one thing. Back then, I didn't care. Honestly, still don't. The Terminus is what it is. Lives are hardly at a goddamn premium out there. But he told me I had fucked up tactically, see?"
Zaeed's mistake had apparently been that of engaging the automatic fire containment systems, even though they wouldn't do anything to save the factory since the fire spanned all sections as it had travelled through the unsecured gas mains. The containment systems were electromechanical, so Close couldn't do a system-wide override to put them on a straight path through. But Vido was a factory administrator; he didn't have to hack anything, and he knew the factory layout, which meant that he could make a beeline for the exits while throwing up roadblocks for the two of them. A tactical mistake indeed, and this was apparently before Close had fleets available to him. At least, fleets capable of taking on the Blue Suns' command fleet.
Once Close had kicked that particular bit of insight into Massani, they regrouped and started thinking rationally. They figured that since Vido was an administrator, that meant he would only be familiar with the base operations of the plant. Maintenance and such dirty things, not so much. They scanned their data systems and found out about underground tunnels that covered most of the plant. Figuring he would head for the loading platforms, they found a tunnel with a straight shot there, and when Vido arrived they had been waiting to ambush him.
"His guard went down in seconds, leaving the bastard all alone out in the open with just a god damn pistol to him."
"Did you kill him?" Tali asked, seemingly enraptured.
"Two shots. One for each eye." The young Quarian flinched at the nonchalance with which he admitted to such brutality. The mercenary had clearly noticed. "We humans have a saying, 'an eye for an eye'. In the Terminus, that is not enough."
Wrex grunted, "You do one better, or you are as weak as what you have just killed."
That earned a grunt and a nod in response from Zaeed.
"And the civilians?" Shepard was curious. Zaeed didn't care, she realised, but she wanted to know just who the Messenger was. Or rather, who he could be.
"Aaron saved them. Manually engaged fire suppression from the maintenance stations in the tunnels. I thought it would delay us, but it worked out in the end. Some of those workers are now in the Remnant."
She nodded, and the room fell into a somewhat awkward silence. After a few seconds, she moved her attention to the Matriarch that had been with Massani… T'Voth, Aaron had called her. "And you? What's your deal?"
The Asari's face betrayed no reaction to the attention, but she responded promptly. "Personal. And professional. Over a century ago I was removed from a position of significant power in the Republics because of my… unconventional views. While Mr. Close would not be able to get me that position back, he has been able to return me to a state of relevance to the galaxy," she breathed for a beat, then continued, "And to my family. For which I am eternally grateful."
Ideals or power, Shepard wondered. She had an aura of ambition about her, certainly, but whether that was borne out of competence or mere hunger for power, she couldn't be certain. Though she was leaning toward the former; Close did not appear to make a habit out of consorting with the incompetent.
"You call yourself T'Voth. Voluntary exile. That doesn't exactly signal that you have any intention of a return to the fold."
The Matriarch inclined her head in amusement. "I see you have studied Asari customs… closely." Her eyes flitted quickly over to Liara before settling back on the Commander. "You are quite right, I have no intention of retaking any position within the Republics or the Council. They forfeited the privilege of my services over a century ago."
Shepard waited for a few seconds, expecting some further explanation or clarification, but it was soon clear that none was coming.
"So," she decided to get the proceedings back on track, and stared at the holographic projector in the middle of the table in front of her, "I was told you would know 'the plan', whatever that means."
[I am aware. And yes, I do.]
At the far corner of the table, young Tali recoiled slightly at the re-appearance of the AI. Curious, thought Shepard, since she was working for Close and was apparently an employee of the Technopath Corps. She didn't know he… it was an AI?
[We do have a few outstanding items relevant to the mission you were given by the Council, still.]
"We do?"
[Yes. For one, we have not yet confirmed whether Saren was aboard Sovereign when they went down.]
"Ah… well that could be problematic."
[Less so than you would think. If he were, Aaron will find out soon enough. If not, there are only a few other places he would be. We know most of them.]
Shepard felt a pang of anger. They knew? Had they known all along?
[No, Shepard, we did not know before this mission. The relevant data was extracted from the data network in Saren's base on the planet.]
Right… wait, is this damn thing reading my mind?
If it was, it completely ignored that outburst as it continued.
[Saren's Geth servants are operating out of two main clusters: From what used to be known as Haratar station in the Phoenix Massing cluster on the border of the Veil, and from a series of outposts in the Armstrong Nebula in the Skyllian Verge.]
The galaxy map appeared once more and highlighted the locations. Across the room, Shepard saw Tali's body language change once more at the mention of Haratar station. A Quarian relic, then.
"Neither of those are in particularly friendly space. Not very keen on getting that close to the Veil."
[Nor should you be. And fortunately, I don't think we will have to.]
A series of red lines and dots appeared on the galaxy map, clearly clustering away from the Veil.
[These are known travel paths for Saren, Sovereign, and their Geth. The markers are known sightings. As you can see, they cluster toward the Verge.]
"Well, that would be expected, wouldn't it?"
Everyone knew the dangers of the Perseus Veil, and no one – not even the most desperate or daring pirate – dared get too close. Even among those who called the Dark Rim their home, no one went as far as near the Far Rim in Geth space.
[Yes, but it goes beyond that. Even factoring in sighting probabilities, they are still heavily weighted toward the Verge, and the movement has increased toward that region in later weeks. Just a few months ago, sightings were sporadic with no clear path preference.]
"I have…" Tali spoke out, hesitant to continue until Shepard gestured for her to do so, "Mr. Close came to me some time back, while we were still on Feros, and informed me that we might be sent to the Armstrong Nebula soon. I have prepared some tools specifically for this venture."
She brought up her omni-tool and gestured toward the galaxy map above the table, which promptly disappeared and was replaced by a code block readout. Shepard wasn't much of a techie, but basic hacking was mandatory coursework in N-school, so she could see that this wasn't your run-of-the-mill hacking program.
"Whoa," Garrus leaned in, mandibles splayed wide in shock, "What have you done here?"
As he gestured toward a block that appeared to be part-encrypted and somehow in flux, the Quarian shifted a bit and did the little hand shuffle she always did when nervous or embarrassed.
"It's a guide VI, modelled on Caesar. I can't make heads or tails of it myself, but I'm assured it will allow me to siphon data from the memory cores of hacked Geth units."
That got Shepard's attention. "I thought that wasn't possible?"
"That is what I thought as well, but I did some trial runs down on Virmire. No actual data transfers, just core entry, which should have triggered a core wipe. It didn't."
Holy shit. That little tool had potential to be a massive boon to their intelligence gathering capabilities. But…
[I should warn you that this tool cannot be replicated. The guide VI, which is necessary for it to work, is subbed to my command structure. Which means it needs my explicit permission to function.]
"And I take it if we try to copy it and take it to Alliance Intelligence, all we'll be doing is introducing a digital spy into our systems…"
'Caesar' didn't respond. He didn't really have to, his silence was more than sufficient confirmation. And even if that wasn't the case, even if they were able to contain and shield the copy from external connections, they would be fools to take the risk. For all she knew, that little VI could be an AI unto itself. Caesar could be lying. The risk was too great.
[Admiral Hackett is preparing your orders to move into the Armstrong Nebula as we speak. However, there is one other location you will need to visit first, and it is a matter of some urgency.]
Oh? "I have too many questions. First, how do you know what Hackett is doing? And second, how can you presume to know what we 'need' to do?"
[We have our ways.]
I swear, he sounds like he's smiling. It. It sounds like it's smiling.
[You were always going to go there, anyway. This is Noveria.]
The hologram above the table changed again to show a planetary info card.
"Looks a bit chilly."
Garrus almost growled beside her, "In more ways than one, Commander. Noveria is a corporate world. The only law there is money. Even Spectres are only allowed jurisdiction because of economic ties between the Council and the Noveria Development Corporation."
[Not anymore. Noveria has realigned itself as functionally neutral, in response to the emergence of the Network. Shepard's Spectre status will get her nowhere. However, Commander, your connection with the Close Corporation, which currently controls a majority share of the NDC board, will allow you full access. And because Close Corporation Security Services is effectively the 'long arm of the law' on the world, we are able to provide you even greater privileges than you would have had through your Spectre status.]
"I hate this spycraft shit, you know that?" Shepard muttered to no one in particular, though she noticed that Thane's interest was piqued slightly by the statement. "So why are we going there, again?"
"I believe I can answer that, if you will permit me?" Aethyta T'Voth kicked off from the wall she had been leaning against for the duration of the briefing. When Shepard nodded, she brought up her omni-tool and the hologram shifted once more. On Shepard's left, Liara nearly fell over from the shock of what was now being displayed. It was a picture of a group of Asari making their way through a crowd. Shepard's didn't really recognise anyone in the picture.
"Liara?"
Aethyta zoomed in on one of the Asari. "This," she said, "Is Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, accomplice to Saren Arterius."
She swallowed heavily, appearing to weigh her words before continuing.
"Benezia was once my bondmate, and mother to my child." Aethyta threw a meaningful glance over her shoulder toward Liara. "And I would like to be there when the child meets her mother again."
…wait, what?!
…
Author's notes: I do not own the Mass Effect.
This took too long to get out. As usual, I guess, for the last few chapters. Wish I could turn up the pace on the writing. All I can say is, this 'growing up' and 'adulting' business? Do not recommend it, kids. Just in this last month I've had three business trips across borders and time zones. Not conducive to writing. Though, saying that... I'm currently sat in an airport waiting for my flight.
Things are getting a bit too chaotic for Aaron's liking at this point, hopefully I got that across. Too many things that, because of bad timing etc kind of want to happen at the same time. And Nihlus, the bugger! No one noticed he was even gone :P
Oh! And Caesar POV. I've wanted to do that since the beginning of the story, but I've struggled to fit it in. Hope it worked well enough?
Next time on Mass Intelligence: Snow storms on Noveria! And a showdown with everyone's favourite dead Spectre! Maybe?
Some quick review responses:
Glrasshopper: Glad you're enjoying the spycraft elements, my theory was that the reason that was never 'done properly' in the games is that Shepard isn't a spy, and if you're not on the inside of that sphere you're not really privy to the kind of details you would expect about competent spy agencies.
edboy4926: Yeah, everyone seems to hate Shepard for some reason. No idea why :P
erisol, XXX Chaos Breaker XXX, Oniele, MajorKO, Alucard Bellsing, XRaiderV1, Apollonir, Pieterseelie, LordGhostStriker: Glad you're enjoying it! :)
Lanilen: Glad someone appreciated that quip, gave me a good chuckle too if I'm honest ^^
Goldspark1: I've been rather explicit about the Shadow Broker this time around, really. Though I'm not ready to fully explain that thing just yet...