Archived recording of Cerberus conference dated 2184
...
QEC activation sequence commencing.
Signal detected...processing...confirmed
Begin visual decoding
Begin audio synch
IM: Do you have a minute?
ML: Always. What can I do for you?
IM: I was looking over your most recent updates to the Lazarus data. The results are impressive. I have to admit that I had my doubts.
ML: Happy to prove you wrong. Myocardial reconstruction is nearing eighty percent. Cortical synapses are firing on their own. Yesterday one of the techs saw him make a fist. Between our technology and Shepard's willpower, this might actually work.
IM: It would be a triumph for all of humanity. Are there any other developments I should know about?
ML: Actually, yes. I think I've found another candidate for his team.
IM: Interesting. Who do you have in mind?"
ML: Well...we've already decided on the turian mercenary, the drell assassin, the salarian scientist, and the krogan warlord. At the moment, I'm looking into a Justicar stationed on Illium. She'll be a tough sell, but I think she'd be a valuable asset if we can convince her to join."
IM: [pause]
ML: Is something wrong?
IM: To be honest, I am a little concerned. Krogan, drell, turian... I would like to see more humans in the mix. So far it's just you and Taylor.
ML: Did you have someone in mind?
IM: Why not this one...Ashley Williams?
ML: I'm afraid she's out of the question.
IM: I don't see why. Her dossier is more than impressive.
ML: True, but she's too much of an idealist.
IM: And Shepard isn't?"
ML: That's different. Shepard follows his conscience. He always tries to do the right thing. She's something else entirely. She lives by a sort of blind loyalty that will contradict the aims of our mission.
IM: I'm not sure I understand.
ML: Two weeks ago I went to see her on Horizon. I managed to convince her that I was a weapons dealer from Sirta, interested in supplying the colony with heavy arms. When I asked her name, she said 'I'm an Operation Chief for the System Alliance.' When I asked about her leisure interests, she said 'I'm an Operation Chief for the System Alliance.' When I asked about her personal life, she said 'I'm an Operation Chief for the System Alliance.' When I admitted that I was putting a team together for Cerberus, she spit on the floor and walked out of the room.
IM: I see.
ML: I'm not saying she would be a weak link. She's as dangerous as a rabid varren, with about half as much class. I just don't think she's right for us.
IM: That's disappointing. Is there no one else?
ML: [sigh] I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but if you really want to see a human on the team, I may have another option. [Cue Omnitool Interface Display] Let me tell you about the latest addition to the prison ship Purgatory.
...
Chapter 6: Old Friend
"This is the Shadow Broker."
The hiss of the voice scrambler evoked a pang of nostalgia in Liara T'Soni. She had not reached out to her old contacts since the end of the war. The day that Harbinger fell, she had sent a final transmission over the Broker's extranet channel, declaring all operations suspended, and all agents relieved of duty. It had been a bittersweet moment. On one hand it provided closure to a very dark chapter in her life. On the other, it took away the most fulfilling job she had ever known. For months she had served as the most powerful information dealer in the galaxy. From the highest government offices to the darkest corners of the criminal underground, nothing had been hidden from her view. No one had been beyond her reach. There was no substitute for that level of control.
Acting as the broker had taken a toll on her though. Despite the satisfaction, she was never able to shed the feeling that she was doing something wrong. She wanted to believe, as Shepard did, that governments had the potential to operate openly and without corruption. That the galaxy would one day unite without the need for espionage. Continuing to work in that shadowy world seemed to betray all that he and the Normandy stood for. That was why she had suspended the alias.
Now, pacing across the floor of one of her old safe houses, surveying the reports of her agents, Liara wasn't so sure. While leaving Almarcrux, Joker had captured an image of the assassin's ship. Shepard had suggested scouring the extranet for matches, but Liara, being a veteran in the information trade, knew how useless that would be. Searching the extranet was for black market rookies and kids researching school projects. Liara's eyes had not mistaken her in the ExoGeni lab. She had seen what would have brought any asari to her knees in fear; a living breathing noctiri shaman. Catching this particular killer would mean utilizing deeper sources. If that meant diving back into the shadows, then so be it.
"Greetings broker. I have eyes scattered throughout the Skyllian verge, but none of them has seen the symbol on that ship. It is not associated with any known criminal or pirate organizations. I do not-"
Liara wiped the channel and moved onto the next source.
"Broker, the symbol is unknown to me, but definitely shows elements of salarian calligraphy. The text is mixed with something that I've never seen before. Something much older."
Another channel wipe...and another. It was over an hour of useless speculation and chatter before one of Liara's informants in the Omega system got her attention.
"I think I've found something for you Broker. Fourteen hours ago, a shuttle matching your target was found scuttled near the asteroid field by Omega station. The craft was blown to bits, but not before launching a single escape module. It seems that the pilot sabotaged the fuel cells and abandoned ship before it detonated. I suspect he or she continued onward to one of Omega's undocumented entry bays and found a way into the lower wards."
Liara shook her head. This was starting to sound like a dead end. The witch had covered her tracks well. Finding people on Omega was a difficult business, even for the Broker.
"I take it the trail has run cold?" Liara's voice was transformed into a throaty rasp by the scrambler.
"It did at first, but then I did a little digging through the master departure log. Since your target arrived there, eighty-seven ships have left Omega ports. I can account for the owners and cargo of eighty-six. The remaining one is something of a mystery. Its rightful owner and copilot were found dead in Afterlife bar. Their cargo was left behind."
Liara lifted her head.
"How were they killed?"
"That's a bit strange as well. Apparently they were dosed with an unidentifiable poison. Puncture wounds were found on their necks."
Liara's eyes widened.
"The ship leaving Omega...where was it headed?"
"To the citadel. My sources tell me it docked no more than twenty minutes ago. If you would-"
Liara wiped the channel and shut down the terminal. She sat for a moment, contemplating the implication. Slowly she stood and walked over to the window. Below she could see throngs of happy shoppers and tourists, making their way through the presidium floor. She looked at her hands and realized they were shaking. Two words echoed in her head.
'She's here.'
…
"Palaven?"
"Yep."
"Sur'kesh?"
"M'hmm"
"Tuchanka?"
"There too."
"How about Ranoch?"
"Even Ranoch."
Tia stopped in her tracks.
"You've been to the homeworld!?"
Kasumi nodded. The little quarian, fueled by pure excitement, grabbed onto the hem of her dress and shook it.
"What was it like?"
Kasumi smiled. "Lovely...once the giant Reaper stopped shooting at us."
"I don't believe it! What about Earth? Have you seen Earth?"
"Of course. I was born there."
"Is it true that there are oceans filled with clean blue water, and beaches made of soft white sand?"
"It is indeed. Though you need a good deal of money to live by them." Kasumi looked down at the enthralled youth. "Personally, I would recommend knocking over the estate of an evil billionaire. I've been living pretty well off the Donovan Hock fund."
"What does that mean?"
"Never mind. You probably shouldn't listen to me when I say things like that. I'm not the best of role models."
The two kept walking, Tia trying her best to mimic Kasumi's delicate gate.
"So which is your favorite?... planet I mean."
"That's a tough one. I generally have the most fun where the people are most interesting." Tia nodded, and Kasumi continued. "There is one place that puts all others to shame in that department."
"Is it Omega?"
"Not even close. This is a place where the wildest, strangest, and most dangerous people in the galaxy all come together. Where you're always one step away from a gruesome death, and side by side with the best friends you could ever hope to meet."
Tia, falling behind, took a few hurried steps to catch up. "Where?"
Kasumi looked up through the glass ceiling of the wards. Through it she could see innumerable ships slipping in and out of the bays. At the edge of the vista sat the Normandy, its mighty hull reflecting the camera flashes of a gathered crowd. Stories of Commander Shepard and his stealth ship were told in homes throughout the galaxy. Even though the SR3 had yet to see real combat, it was already a living, breathing legend.
Kasumi pointed. Tia craned her helmet upward to see.
"Commander Shepard's ship? You've been aboard the Normandy!?"
"More than once. It was my home for a while. You see that window on the Starboard side?". Tia nodded. "That was my room. I used to stay up late and watch bits of passing space debris vaporize in the blue shift field." Kasumi started walking again. "Sometimes I would fire up my cloak and go from deck to deck, looking for a fight or a juicy piece of gossip. I got to see things that most people have only read about: a justicar glowing in deep meditation, the true founder of the blue suns sparring with a krogan warlord, the galaxy's deadliest biotic throwing furniture at a Cerberus commander. It was a strange time in my life, and part of me will always miss it."
"Will you ever live there again?"
Kasumi looked up at Normandy, just as a Turian destroyer was leaving port. The enormous engines cast a white light across the scene, illuminating details in the Normandy's diamond coated Silaris armor. The sight was fleeting but breathtaking. A murmur of awe passed through the crowd. Kasumi felt her chest rise with an involuntary breath.
"I don't know why I ever left."
…
"I think you were too hard on the batarian. We should reconsider aiding their fleet."
Councilor Cassus opened a compartment in his desk and withdrew two objects: a slim, crystal glass and a bottle of blood-red Amisi liquor. Delicately, he set them on the surface. Without paying attention to a word that Tarquin was saying, he removed the cap. The smell of ripened fruit met his nose.
"They are civilians after all. I know that the batarians have a violent history, but I'm not prepared to stand by while women and children freeze to death in those ships."
Cassus angled the bottle until a crimson stream poured into his glass. Because the liquor was chilled, it settled like syrup. When the salarian lifted the cup in his hand, the warmth melted it, imparting a watery consistency. He rolled the glass back and forth, watching it stain the sides and collect into the decorative grooves and pits.
"I've thought about it, and I believe I have found a solution. If the Delatrass will not aid the batarians, the Hierarchy might be able to help. Two moons in the Apien Crest have been used by the turians for centuries to house soldiers in training. The Hierarchy would consider leasing them to the batarians for free, as long as they agree to maintain the facilities. They are crude, but would provide the necessary food and shelter. The local military would be a bit soft as a result, but in these times of rebuilding, we all need to make sacrifices."
Cassus brought the cup to his lips and tilted the stem upwards. The liquor burned as it rolled over his tongue. Most salarians did not care for hard liquor. The alcohol was harsh and dried out their delicate membranes. Cassus, however, reveled in the sensation; drew satisfaction from the pain. He closed his eyes and focused on the intensity of the burning in his mouth.
"The fact is that we Councilors are here to represent not just the members of our own species, but all citizens of the galaxy. It is our job to protect them."
Something in that last sentence shook Cassus from his reverie. His large, black eyes opened slowly, fixing on Tarquin. The turian found himself silenced by the stare.
"Protect them? Our job to protect them?"
This was followed by a moment of silent contemplation. Then he continued.
"Many years ago, our two races, along with the asari, came to this station to form the greatest government the galaxy had ever known. We took a mass of discordant peoples, squabbling over their little corners of space, and we brought them together. We gave them prosperity, security, and the rule of law. Civilization as we know it was built on those first treaties."
Cassus stared deeply into his cup.
"It was that sacred alliance that lit up the relays, built the great fleets, routed the rachni, neutered the krogan, and ultimately beat the Reapers into dust. When I took my oath as a galactic councilor, those accomplishments drove me forward; gave me inspiration..." He took another sip and swallowed it. "...and now, after all that work, everything we have stands on the brink of annihilation."
Tarquin waved off the suggestion. "What are you talking about? Our government has never been stronger. We have achieved a state of peace our ancestors dared not dream of."
"I like you Tarquin. I always have. But your shortsightedness sometimes staggers me."
He set down the cup and activated his desk terminal. A galaxy map appeared on the surface, swirling with fleet movements.
"Have you not read the reports from Tuchanka? From Rannoch? In less than a year the krogan population has doubled. Without a war to fight, they have turned to construction at an unprecedented pace. Tuchanka burns bright with the fires of industry. They are rebuilding their cities."
"And why shouldn't they."
"With cities come spaceports. With spaceports come ships. It's been a long time since the last krogan fleet. My father used to tell me stories about it. Ships so large their gravitational fields warped the path of incoming missiles. Weapons so powerful that they could boil lakes in a single shot. Sure the krogan are happy now, but how long before they outgrow their homeworld? How long before they attempt expansion, as they did once before?"
Tarquin said nothing in reply.
"And what about Rannoch? I'm sure you've heard that the quarian Applied Science Guild has allied with the geth consensus. Every day their labs make discoveries that are lightyears beyond anything we have on Sur'kesh. There is no intelligence in the galaxy that could hope to match a united Rannoch. Thankfully they have limited their research to nonmilitary pursuits, like immunomodulation and biofusion cells. But how long will that last? How long before the quarians dream up a fleet that makes our ships look like rusting antiques? If that does not frighten you Tarquin, then you are not doing your job."
Cassus closed the map and picked up his glass. Another sip left a drop of crimson at the corner of his mouth.
"The sad fact is that the salarians are no longer the most intelligent race... the turians are no longer the mightiest. It is tempting to cheer the accomplishments of our allies, but if history has taught us nothing else, it's that peace is a momentary phenomenon. All peoples grow and expand until their borders come into contact with those of others. No matter how peaceful we're all willing to be, another war will come, and at this rate our fleets will be swept aside like toys. You must have seen this coming old friend. You know war far better than I do. Tell me I'm wrong."
Tarquin said nothing.
"The time for talk is over. Now we must find the strength to act. To ensure our place as the rightful owners of the Citadel, before these upstarts can supplant us."
"And what would you do Cassus? Start a new war? You are a councilor. You command no armies, and you don't speak for the salarians. Even if you did, I would not support it. We cannot predict what the future will bring. Stabbing allies in the back cannot be the true path."
"Burying your head in the sand does not make you virtuous. Your people came to mine once for a solution to the krogan menace. The turians saw the danger in leaving their expansion unchecked."
"The genophage was a mistake."
"That is the popular outlook these days, but can you begin to imagine how many lives that virus saved? Would you have preferred that we sat by and watched the krogan turn the galaxy into their breeding ground? They would have gone from world to world, decimating populations by the millions to make room for their young, turning towering cities into piles of rubble. When the Reapers arrived they would have found a chaotic mess and picked it to pieces.."
Tarquin shook his head.
"It was a hard choice at the time, but you know the genophage was the right decision..." Cassus stepped forward and placed a hand on Tarquin's shoulder. "...just as you know we need a similar solution now."
"And what is the solution? What exactly are you planning?"
Cassus grinned and stepped over to the window. Light from the serpent nebula played across his face.
"That's the best part. The stage has already been set. The heavy lifting has already been done. Hatred between these races has been brewing for centuries. It's like a big drum of rocket fuel. All we have to do is flick one, tiny ember into the mix..."
He turned from the window with a devilish look in his eye.
"And then we watch it burn."
"That doesn't answer my question. Right now you are only a glorified diplomat. You have connections, but not enough to start a war. Sooner or later you will need resources; a force of your own to command."
"That's where Exogeni comes in. The CEO has a great interest in maintaining the political landscape the way it is now. In exchange for my support on the council, he has made a valuable contribution to my cause. He has handed me the reigns to a powerful new weapon. An entire species, lost to the pages of history, is being brought to life as we speak."
Tarquin's mandibles drooped.
"So the rumors are true. You're resurrecting the noctiri. But how?"
"Let's just say that they were never truly gone. One particularly crafty specimen managed to conceal herself in a prothean cryo-storage chamber at the close of the last cycle. She slaughtered the protheans standing guard and activated the device herself. For over 50,000 years she has slept with only dreams of vengeance to keep her warm. Exogeni discovered her at the onset of the Reaper war and has been using samples of her DNA to fill sequence gaps in the fossil record. A few days ago the first live noctiri young were born in the Exogeni lab here at the Citadel. You should see them Tarquin. They are a bit unruly, but their raw power would make a krogan tremble. They will serve as keepers of the peace in our new Citadel defense force.
"Cassus this is madness. You claim that you want to return to the days of the original council, but there is no way the asari will agree to this. Exterminating the noctiri will be their primary concern, and then they will come for your head. You must stop this experiment before it gets out of control. Kill that monstrous creature; send it back to the pages of history where it belongs."
Cassus winced at that last sentence and said, "choose your words carefully old friend. You wouldn't want to upset our guest."
Tarquin furrowed his brow and turned around. Behind him, standing in the open door of Cassus's office, were two individuals. One was a krogan, massive in stature, and marked with a scar on his left cheek. He wore heavy battle armor emblazoned with the red and white Exogeni logo. He met Tarquin's eye and readjusted his gauntlet straps, as if to offer a fight.
The other was a diminutive figure, draped in a black cloak that fell from her shoulders to the floor. Her face was hidden in the shadow of a low hanging hood. Her slender arms, held behind her back, were wrapped in grey cloth. She made no sound; moved no muscle. When Tarquin looked into the darkness where her face should be, he felt the blood go cold in his veins.
"So what will it be Tarquin? Will you join us? Will you help to usher in a new order of galactic prosperity, or will you sit by and watch our great republic crumble under a wave of synthetics and suit rats?
Tarquin turned to face his aging colleague.
"You already know my answer Cassus. Mock me all you want, but to a turian, loyalty amounts to more than short term strategy. Two years ago I watched the krogan, quarians, and geth stand and fight beside us. I will not forget what they sacrificed to save us."
Cassus shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that." He returned to his desk and sat. "Now you know what I have to do."
Tarquin straightened his posture. "Do your worst...old friend."
Cassus nodded to the krogan, who smiled and spread his arms in a menacing gesture. Tarquin, a veteran of hand to hand combat, backed into a fighting pose. The creature in black remained motionless. Cassus took the last sip from his glass and said, "kill him."
With a growl the krogan leapt forward, covering the distance in two great strides. Tarquin dodged the lunge and brought a knee into his attacker's stomach. The blow only enraged the krogan, who sent a backhanded swing in Tarquin's direction. Tarquin dodged again and again. With each dodge he landed a stiff counterattack, but his blows were not making a dent in the hulking figure. As he rained down punches and kicks, he became more and more conscious that he would need a weapon soon. Gasping for breath, he backed toward the window. He stepped closer and closer, until he felt the glass press up against his back. The presidium floor was over a hundred feet down on the other side.
The krogan allowed a chuckle at the sight of his prey, pinned against the window. Tarquin chuckled right back.
"Come on whelp! Is that the best you've got. I've been killing krogan since before you were born."
Sabrak roared in reply and readied another charge. The office shook with his heavy footfalls. This time he lunged with both arms, in an attempt to shove Tarquin through the pane. But the turian was too quick. With lightning reflexes, he latched onto Sabrak's wrist and redirected it toward the window. There was a crash as the glass split down the middle. One large piece fell outward. The rest shattered into pieces. Standing before the opening, high above the crowd below, Tarquin reached down and picked up a shard, wielding it like a knife. He vaulted the krogan's shoulder and landed on his back. With both hands he raised the piece high and plunged it down toward Sabrak's neck.
The edge was inches away from its target when a shot rang out through the room. There was a momentary pause in the action, then Tarquin let the shard slip from his fingers. He looked up to see Cassus aiming a pistol at his chest. A blue liquid began to soak through his shirt.
"I think that's enough Tarquin. You've managed to go out fighting, which for some reason seems important to you. Now it's time to lay down and die."
Tarquin coughed up a spurt and tried to smile.
"That's what you never understood Cassus. That's why you are who you are. And that's why you're going to fail. The people you're up against are not going to lie down and die. They will fight you until the end, and spit at you with their last breath."
"Well looking at what's happened to you they might want to reconsider their strategy."
Cassus holstered his weapon and motioned to Sabrak. The krogan grabbed Tarquin by the neck and lifted him off the floor. As powerful hands closed around his airway, he heard Cassus speaking to the creature in black.
"Our plan is now in motion. It's time for us to leave this place."
She responded in a soft, surprisingly gentle voice. "What about Shepard? He intrigues me. I would like to stay and finish what I started."
"I'm afraid I have bigger plans for you." He planted a kiss on her hand. "And don't worry about the good commander. I've already worked out a role for him in my grand design. When he walks through that door, he will have the welcome he deserves."
...
Work hours were coming to a close, and the embassy hallways were mostly quiet. Somewhere in the distance, two volus merchants were arguing about the merits of a new tax code. Their labored breathing provided a sort of rhythmic ambiance. The only other sound was the scurry of keepers, moving from panel to panel, maintaining the arcane workings of the Citadel.
Shepard jogged the last few steps, past the Spectre HQ, and up to the door of Cassus's office. At the last minute the salarian had cancelled the official hearing and insisted upon a more private discussion. It made no difference to Shepard, who was just anxious to put the whole meeting behind him. He reached out toward the door.
"Commander Shepard."
Shepard stopped in his tracks. It was a voice he hadn't heard in a long time. He turned around to face the source.
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."
Next: Happy Hunting