[ Chapter 35: Captain Wasea ]
Aria had kissed her when she left that morning. Given how close they'd become as of late, it shouldn't have surprised Tevos as much as it did. They'd kissed on numerous occasions without much abashment, and without allowing stigmas of affection to corrupt delights provided by the provocative contact of skin against skin, lips against lips. Tevos would kiss Aria simply because she spontaneously desired to, and Aria did as well for similar reasons. They'd never before self-imposed the need for justification, so why, Tevos had asked herself, did this particular instance seem so singular and worthy of special dissection?
The answer only arrived well after Aria had left, when Tevos finally seated herself in her office and escaped the encaging focus of her personal security, who had been operating on highest alert for almost a full day cycle. Recalling the way Aria, fully encased by her C-Sec armor disguise, had approached her with luggage in grasp only to temporarily set it down again to empty her gloved hands and raise them, place them on Tevos's face, and draw her in for a single commanding yet sentimental kiss without saying one word in excess after they parted, delivered Tevos to the realization that this specific kiss was atypical in that it wasn't merely supplementary to flirting or bouts of foreplay. There was no sex in it—no expectation or request or even the suggestion of it. It was a fond gesture of parting and nothing more, despite that ever-aloof gleam in Aria's eyes, refusing to admit that her action was befitting of genuine lovers more than anything else, and instead preferring to leave it up for subjective interpretation.
Now she was gone after spending multiple days as her houseguest, over which Tevos had substantially acclimated to Aria's presence. The pale but comforting cloud of optimism following her throughout her days, knowing that there was always Aria's loathed and beloved personality to return to after her long work days ended, had since dissipated and returned her to routine solitude, had not darker storms instantly gathered in their place from the memory of what occurred the day before. The Embassies, standing in their pristine dignity where C-Sec now amassed in greater concentration than what Tevos could recall in recent years, only reminded her that yesterday had not simply been a horrible, feverish nightmare, but a real life-and-death struggle where a botched plan had resulted in injury and death; fortunately, with death being the ailment suffered by their foe and not them. In an instant Tevos's day plummeted in quality and it never truly recovered, especially when subject to the emergency meeting the other councilors had called to discuss the terrible incident.
"This is just too much. Far too much. These are not mere symptoms of a larger encroaching problem, but the fully-fledged problem itself rearing up to tear into this Council unchecked. We cannot afford to withhold due reaction. The Embassies simply cannot compromise with a group who presses upon us the weight of terrorism and attempted assassinations." The salarian councilor lifted his wide, glossy eyes from the datapad lain on the rounded desk before him as he glanced about his fellow councilors, seeking their concurrence. The slate gray of the walls enclosing them was warm but devoid of feature, had there not been considerable effort taken to improve the area's hospitality with several synthetic plants and mass-produced wall art depicting Presidium sights and monuments. "We have to stop this immediately," he continued. "We need more intelligence, more security, and most of all... more transparency between one another." Forlan now gazed at Councilor Tevos, who occupied her usual conference room seat sixty degrees from his position. He fixated on the small white bandage pasted to the side of her face, covering the spot where her assailant had struck her yesterday, worn in the absence of the vaguest aspect of grief or shame contracted from being made a victim. She only stiffened as his insinuation—or accusation—congealed into sense within her mind.
"Excuse me?" Tevos defensively inquired.
"Councilor... as time goes on, we are continually being made further aware, by our investigative specialists, of just who this batarian man was. Flight records show that he was not a political refugee from Khar'shan, or anywhere else within the Hegemony. He arrived on a vessel bearing Attican Traverse registry, but before that transfer, his original departure was facilitated by a ship leaving the Sahrabarik system. He was from Omega."
Tevos stared at him unflinchingly. "That he was from Omega does not construe the motive behind an act of violent patriotism committed in an attempt to highlight issues of discrimination the batarians face abroad. No act is truly heinous enough to cancel all discourse regarding the issues it meant to address. We still have that responsibility."
"And just what do you make of the forged document found in his possession?" Councilor Estulius asked her. He was unable to stabilize mutual eye contact with Tevos since she had bitterly averted her gaze to deny him that privilege, but he pressed her to listen. "It is completely reasonable that your government would prescribe a swift cover-up to avoid unjust persecution, but here in the Council we cannot afford to turn a blind eye to the obvious coincidence here: an Omegan batarian singling out the asari councilor in particular, encouraged by false promises from Asari High Command that required authorizing the extradition of Aria T'Loak. This entire situation is, without a shred of doubt, a direct repercussion of your prolonged involvement on that detestable criminal station."
"Councilor Tevos," Forlan swiftly picked up after patiently waiting for Estulius to pause for more than half a second. The prevalence of the turian councilor's antagonizing tone and bluntness had steeply climbed since the first word he uttered against Tevos that day, whose reactionary demeanor had only grown aggrieved. Neither attitudes were lucrative, Forlan had decided. Timely interjection had presented itself as the best short-term solution. "I understand that this was originally an asari affair, concerning your official agreements and treaties. We stepped back, respectfully, and let you respond how you saw fit. Then one of our Spectres was murdered on Omega. You again requested unilateral involvement because the circumstances of Neora Sarthis's death presupposed sensitive asari intelligence. Again, we stepped back. A bit reluctantly that time, but we had faith in your assurances of progress and, frankly, appreciated not having to deal with the fallout ourselves. But when a fanatical Omegan batarian comes into the Embassies and unabashedly attacks our Council... we can no longer bear the notion of stepping back a third time. Councilor, I would never actively aspire to place you in a troubling position, but Estulius and I have agreed to officially request full disclosure of your activities on Omega. I know this may upset you, but you must see that it is now completely within our right. You might be asari but you are still part of the Council, defined by ancient law and treaty as a governing body which derives its power from the races it comprises. Therefore when any portion of our Council comes under violent or unlawful threat, we are all legally entitled to any intelligence which may preserve this body or counteract such threats. I can have the appropriates statutes sent to you upon request if you wish to confirm the legitimacy of our claim."
Tevos could scarcely believe what was being demanded of her. "Send me them," she immediately decided, desperate for an escape route. It had been agonizing enough to have spent the last several minutes in the company of Councilor Kylris Estulius, who sat less than two meters away from her with a guiltless leer drawing his lightly-scarred brow plating downward. But to suddenly find herself legally obligated to forfeit her and Aria's alliance to their most probably enemy only added volatile fuel to the nascent flames of panic grazing her heart, invigorating their detrimental influence on her poise. There had to be a way out. If her thorough education in law had taught her anything, it was that there was always a way out somewhere. She just needed to find it, quickly.
Forlan blinked at her tenacity, but complied. With a few inputs on the face of his datapad he sent several indexed statutes to his fellow councilor, who immediately delved into their interpretation. That she needed formal paperwork at all spoke volumes about her stance on the issue—her patent willingness to fight until the very last possible moment for preservation of confidence, even while despicable crimes befell them in consequence. "Tevos," he said, trying to sound sympathetic, "this isn't the time to be unreasonable. You were attacked yesterday. Nearly killed. At what point would you consider this becoming a concern for us all? When bombs start detonating in the lobby? When canisters of poison are thrown in the Chambers during petitions?"
She was impervious to the guilt-trip he attempted to burden her with, knowing that neither Forlan nor Estulius would fall within the crosshairs of the people Tevos was presently dealing with. She alone had been the one to incur their wrath. Instead, she flatly asked them, "How long do I have before my disclosure is due?"
"Twenty hours," Estulius tritely provided, minimizing what seemed to be smugness lining his statement. "If your disinclination to cooperate persists beyond that allotted time window, we may be forced to indict you for dereliction of duty."
Tevos swallowed the extraordinarily rare and vile urge to curse at him, and alternatively said nothing. So this had been part of Estulius's plan all along, she thought in contempt. She and Aria had once jointly believed that the disaster in her office had contained all the damage their enemies sought to inflict upon them in one convenient package, but Estulius had evidently injected into the operation more insidious, long-term consequences that carried the immense potential to permanently dissolve the asari councilor's alliance with Aria. And thus far, it seemed dreadfully likely that he had established himself well on the road to success. Tevos's lasting determination was his only obstacle, but she would see to it that she posed the most difficult and treacherous obstacle he would ever encounter in his life.
She rose from her chair, possessed by cold and rigid indignity, and began hastily gathering up her documents and tablets. Tevos aimed to leave the conference at once and begin devoting every last molecule of stamina and wit remaining inside her body to the task of finding a loophole in the law that presently bound her, within that single day. She would enlist her very best lawyers for help (including Irissa without question), inform Aria of the terrible turn of events, and call upon High Command for their advice, regardless of Tevos's preference. But just as the name of her contingent government crossed her mind, she heard a chime in the terminal mounted at her designated seat, announcing a waiting call rerouted from her office by her secretary. The glass of the table before her lit up with the name of a very distinguished Thessian contact: Matriarch Medora. In her surprise Tevos lifted her gaze to discover the equally puzzled expressions of her fellow councilors. She informed them of the caller's identity, also noting that the matriarch's privacy flag was not as severe as what had been typical over the last several weeks, finding that detail most curious of all.
"Good," Estulius favorably judged the unexpected company. "Perhaps they finally intend to include us in their discussion."
Ignoring him, Tevos answered the call in bewilderment. Before the Council, projected from the center of their table arose the well-dressed image of the matriarch, who greeted them.
"Matriarch Medora," Tevos began, meaning to clarify something important. "This forum is an appropriate setting for our discussion?"
"Very much so," Medora replied without hesitation. "This morning my associates and I were alerted to your—our—legal predicament, which has been presented to you by now, I assume?" She briefly regarded the other councilors.
"Not ten minutes ago," answered Tevos, sounding a bit vexed. "I meant to contact you in private at the earliest opportunity."
"No need," the matriarch reassured her, but only managed to confuse Tevos even further. "The purpose of my call, conveniently timed to coincide with your meeting by the advisement of your very helpful assistants, is to announce that central Asari High Command is assuming full responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the disclosure of our activities in Sahrabarik. We will, within the allowed work day, begin distributing classified records of what our agents have uncovered about your Spectre's disappearance, including the factions our investigation has... upset. We have decided to undertake this responsibility on behalf of our councilor, with whom we have efficiently shared intelligence throughout the entire ordeal, merely to remove Councilor Tevos from continued distress in light of what happened yesterday undeniably as a result of our presence on Omega. Asari High Command wishes to take every reasonable measure it can to provide our councilor with adequate time to recuperate and resume her duties while we elaborate to your governments all the troubling evidence we have accumulated regarding this hostile Omegan faction. However, because the Council has invoked a protection mandate that requires disclosure of all intelligence which can be used in ascertaining and defeating the entity that threatens it, Asari High Command found itself with no choice but to send a request to the Turian Hierarchy for any Terminus-pertinent confidential military operation records. It has become our suspicion that a prominent contributor to this anonymous enemy is a former special operative gone rogue. If our suspicion proves accurate and we are able to positively identify this individual, we may be able to obtain more information about motive, means, and... names of his potential allies."
Hollow silence settled over the conference room. Tevos slowly turned to evaluate Kylris Estulius and found him bearing a subtle light of horror in his eyes, but with the passage of every second it seemed to darken with a treacherous rage evoked from deep within his chest. Meanwhile, Councilor Forlan appeared mildly perplexed, and as for Tevos herself... she struggled to comprehend what just happened. Carefully, she pieced together the implications of Medora's intervention to discern the matriarch's plan.
Asari High Command was stepping in to free Tevos from responsibility, fallaciously claiming that both the central and Council branch of their government shared intelligence and kept no secrets from each other. Surely Medora didn't actually believe that Tevos was disclosing everything she learned. No, she was no fool. She must have been vividly aware of Tevos's intentional reticence on several issues, but had permitted her secrecy through the understanding that Tevos required a mechanism for self-defense against those members of High Command who concealed things from her in turn. Medora didn't know about Tevos's close collaboration with Aria, she didn't know about the geth, but somehow, she did know about Drialus Lorhan and his connection to Estulius, but only appeared to lack the concrete evidence to prove it. Until, that is, the Hierarchy turned over their records, having no other choice than to do so now that the Council declared their state to be one of emergency.
Slowly, it dawned on her that Medora had shielded Tevos and returned the blow the turian councilor had dealt her with such swiftness and ferocity that Estulius was rendered unable to even part his mandibles to issue a single sound of acknowledgement.
"While I may," Medora resumed, adopting a more amiable tone as if she had spontaneously forgotten the gravity of her first statement, "I would ask you, Councilor Tevos, if you think your health will allow you to make the annual trip to Armali to join myself, as well as many other matriarchs, in celebrating the peaceful coexistence of our Republics next week? We are expecting ambassadors and magnates from several new colonies this year."
Tevos managed to find her voice. "I—is that time of year already upon us again? I admit that it completely slipped my mind, with everything happening. But, yes, I do think I will be able to attend, as per usual."
"Wonderful. But please, take care not to strain yourself beyond what you have deemed appropriate following this unspeakable act of violence. Truly, Councilor, I cannot fathom how you must be presently feeling. Therefore I hope I am not overstepping any boundaries when I inform you that Asari High Command has agreed to extend an invitation to Miss Aria T'Loak this year, in profound thanks for her actions. I shudder to think what may have transpired if she had not been so astute and unselfish, if I may severely understate reality. High Command wishes to repay her a great debt, perhaps through positive media attention that might aid in drawing tourism to Omega, which I've heard has recently become victim to sharp declines in intra-galactic trade and consumerism in wake of all its troubles. Before we would proceed, however, we would like to receive your opinion and approval."
"Invite Aria T'Loak to a peace conference?" Estulius exclaimed, dumbfounded. "She is the very antithesis to peace! I cannot understand why you would ever gamble your own safety by inviting a powerful criminal to the cultural heart of your homeworld to talk of peace. I doubt the word has ever crossed her vocabulary."
"Fortunately for you, Councilor Estulius," said Medora, "the conference is very much an asari affair, so you need not fret over the identity or safety of the attendees. Elite commandos are generously posted throughout many checkpoints, and it isn't as though High Command in its entirely ever convenes in one place simultaneously. It's quite safe, and the motivation for inviting questionable persons is rather simple: given the nature of the conference, we aspire to celebrate and strengthen the unity of our territories, which has magnified in importance ever since my people began establishing homes outside of Thessia. Just as well, we are always overjoyed to find vestiges of peaceful intent within those who hadn't overtly displayed them before. We would like to encourage and nurture such proclivities, so that one day we might call former enemies and rivals by the name of friend."
"Befriend Omega?" the salarian councilor mused aloud. To him the idea sounded a tad more fascinating than it did outright absurd. Estulius, on the other hand, was of a completely different opinion.
"The day Omega befriends us will follow the very end of society as we know it," he said, more so in resignation. Evidently, the asari approach to forging alliances offended him, but his stance only carried so far before it was attenuated against countless millennia of foreign culture.
"So, Councilor? What might your verdict be?" Medora sought Tevos's opinion again, and soon received it.
"Well, if she finds this invitation agreeable, I would certainly not oppose having her for the conference. I think this can be a mutually beneficial experience."
Even as Tevos issued her consent she intently searched the matriarch's enigmatic face for a hint of underlying purpose. Clearly she had another plan altogether, this time featuring Aria as an integral component.
Saving Tevos from losing her footing in Sahrabarik had revealed Medora's benign intentions, again giving Tevos ample cause to void her suspicions of Medora having been historically dishonest. The gesture had been a calculated one. Medora came from a government tragically divided on this vital issue, generating a presence whose stance seemed to oscillate from day to day. High Command was their enemy and it was not. High Command was hurting them, and protecting them. Medora needed to assert her individual role, because she remembered the way Tevos had watched her suspiciously over vid comm the day before.
So she had rescued their asari councilor from certain censure, cleverly timing her announcement to directly precede her proposal to bring both Tevos and Aria into their midst, presumably to discuss with them something of greatest importance. Providing renewed evidence of her allegiance had certainly been the best way to do it, since Tevos would never have entrusted Aria's fate to High Command had she still warily clung to doubt and distrust.
There was something in motion, something that had been decided or found, and they were taking action.
Sixty degrees from her position at their rounded meeting table, it was now Kylris Estulius who began indignantly preparing to leave.
:::
The rattling and reverberating shuttle, as it soared past the border of the Zeta District demarcated by the utilities and environmental systems sustaining the area, was filled to its brim with the hybrid mercenary unit First Lieutenant Wasea had selected to bring with her. While the lieutenant rode in the front compartment with the driver, both her Eclipse soldiers and those borrowed from Aria occupied the hold of the truck, standing in twin rows facing one another beneath the grayish light shed by a lonely filament mounted in the metal ceiling. No windows were present to afford them knowledge of how far their destination was.
For most of the trip, Liselle had simply clung onto the hanging strap suspended over her position, steadying herself and unconsciously participating in the pastime of gazing across the narrow lane of empty space at the mercs on the other side, only to quickly avert her eyes to another banal target the second they'd catch her staring. The very air around them felt solemn and uneasy, made inhospitably tense by the uniform practice of steeling oneself for the very worst, if Asana and Wasea's plan went awry.
Liselle mentally clutched Daus's presence beside her as her sole source of consolation. They'd spent the early morning memorizing all the audio tones Wasea wanted to use for secure communications, ate small but calorie-dense portions of food for energy that could fuel combat for hours, pulled their armor on, and once again promised that they'd have each other's backs during the entire mission, no matter what happened. Daus was particularly emphatic about his vow. Liselle remembered him repeating a second time, in utter seriousness, that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure their enemy was neutralized, even if that required self-sacrifice or worse. She had impulsively agreed through nationalistic pride alone, not necessarily quite grasping or truly conforming to the idea of self-sacrifice at all, letting the dire notion bounce right off her without meaningful collision.
One of Wasea's mercenaries breached the silence with an ill-researched legend, "I heard that Drialus Lorhan is more machine than man now. I heard that someday he plans to preserve his brain in bio-gel and hook it up to a computer to achieve immortality."
Another called the claim inane, and expressed a profound desire to not hear the first mercenary speak again until they were back at the Eclipse outpost with their distinguished prisoner in tow.
When they arrived at Lorhan's tower, their transport lowered to a well-guarded platform just outside the yard immediately surrounding the building itself. The doors of shuttle rolled open and the mercenaries filed out at Wasea's order, assembling themselves neatly in an attentive line as the lieutenant made her way over to a second vessel which had landed minutes prior. Liselle saw Captain Asana, whose yellow-plated armor bore even more painted intricacies denoting rank than Wasea, including the black sun emblem where the depicted rays of light wavered over her entire chest, snaking to her sides, and haloed by two symmetrical circles around the central orb. She was not, by Liselle's judgement, as bitterly faced as Wasea.
After the brief rendezvous between the high officers of the division, a curt order had both mercenary units joining their commanders as they strode between the watchful ranks of guards hired by Lorhan, all darkly and uniformly outfitted; a private military to match Omega's finest, who grimly professed candidacy for the next ruling power if their voracious ambitions were realized.
Through the tinted visor of her helmet, Liselle endeavored to count and average the number of potential enemies they'd face shortly. Manageable handfuls became dozens the further they walked, now coming under the looming shadow of the business tower in its imposing symmetry, and passing through white steam rising from warm utilities under foot after they'd been rinsed by the environmental systems. Liselle suddenly began to doubt the acumen of her temporary leaders. She couldn't fathom how they—a mere band of twenty—would ever fare against such a pernicious hive, especially while carrying a burdensome captive on their backs. They were headed to the peak of the tower, she knew, where they would somehow overwhelm the security present in Lorhan's office during negotiations, then haul him all the way back down through the various floors of mercs, through the yard, and expect to return to their shuttles intact. Such a feat was impossible, Liselle despaired. Surely Wasea and Asana had seen the danger. They'd been operating for innumerable years, and no senior officer of an organization such as the Eclipse accepted missions where death was certain. They must've had a plan, she resolved. Something of the likes of which few minds could conjure, something that would utilize the mercenaries following them as pawns, a ruse, and little else due to their relative ignorance. It was the only sane explanation for their confidence.
They met with the captain of Lorhan's guard, who was awaiting their appointment in the company of several spare operatives.
"The proprietor," the turian detachedly began, "would request that you disarm before joining him."
"That's impossible," Asana replied. "If our negotiation is to proceed as planned, the Eclipse needs the assurance that we're not going to be cheated or otherwise victimized. This building is teeming with your forces. You have the ability to overwhelm us in seconds. We're keeping our weapons so that if we've been deceived, you will suffer some degree of damage in repercussion. This way, neither of us is inclined to be dishonest with one another. If you can't accept these conditions we'll turn around and go home."
The guard visibly frowned, radioed Lorhan's office, and explained the ultimatum. In the end, their contact accommodated their reasonable demand and invited them into a short hall populated by large elevators used to lift and distribute cargo and mercenaries alike throughout the tower. Wasea and Asana's forces separated for the duration of the ride, dividing into groups of ten each, and rode their adjacent elevators in silence. The darkness of the presently-cramped area was only mitigated by the protruding bulge of glass that granted them awareness of how high they had ascended. Liselle peered around Daus's shoulder to watch their shuttle down on the platform shrink with distance, until it appeared a tiny figurine amongst the bridges and buildings. Her eyes then wandered to Wasea, who stood facing the window with a hand relaxed on the holster of her heavy pistol sidearm, quietly thinking as external metal reinforcements periodically skipped over their glass-faced elevator, casting fleeting shadows over the interior that made Liselle keenly aware of her own eyes readjusting to the dramatic and sudden changes in light. Still she wondered what Aria had promised her, what had possessed her to undertake such a risky operation without hesitation.
In retrospect, Liselle felt that it would've been ultimately wiser to have stayed with Rasma and the others back at the home of the quarians, but the way Wasea's mercenaries combined with those she had selected from Aria's offered pool stood their ground resolutely in the face of daunting odds, reassured Liselle where her speculations, grasping at Wasea and Asana's designs in vain, could not.
They were going to be okay, she told herself in a recurrent mantra. They were going to be all right.
When the elevator released them, Wasea led her unit to Asana's as they emerged. They were swept up by a small dispatch of Lorhan's guard, who escorted them down the bleak corridors of a fortress that had never been lived in, but merely occupied like a bunker carved into the asteroid cavern where its master brooded and lived vicariously through those who dared to leave its protection. It was nothing but a hub for Lorhan's forces, utilitarian and highly militaristic, blatantly lacking the soul and passion that defined the bases of his rivals: Sahra Igrahal's bustling and spirited recreational center, and Aria T'Loak's glorious and decadent nightclub Afterlife.
They were collectively admitted into Drialus Lorhan's office and ordered to stand vigilant against the walls opposite to the forces Lorhan had summoned to accompany him. As they made way for the negotiation, Liselle detected few attempts to make the space comfortable beyond several locked cabinets, gray and smooth, and an office chair set before a desk befitting the most mundane of businessmen. But the turian himself, spotted peering out his one-way glass wall to overlook his limited realm, was not so simple in appearance. He dressed darkly, moodily, but the luster of his elbow as it protruded from his tailored sleeve and drawn into a contemptuous fold across his chest, abruptly reminded Liselle that this man was no mundane specimen in the slightest. He was subject to visions from creatures like Nazara, perhaps from the reanimated Spectre as well, and there was no telling what the effects might have done to his psyche.
Liselle recalled seeing a room where physical possessions were in unnatural absence. It had been Nazara's room, devoid of distraction, devoid of organic pettiness and the pursuit of tangible manifestations of wealth, of which she retained little concept. Perhaps the nightmares had irreparably altered Lorhan; those silent films of supreme horror visiting him unbidden throughout the night's vulnerable unconscious hours. Perhaps he had not always been this way—derelict of taste and personality, lost to the droll phantasms of rudimentary electronic intelligence.
When he turned to gaze upon his visitors, Liselle immediately saw in his left eye an abnormal rust-hued gleam, like the glassy dimness of an exhausted bulb with a lens trapped within, analytical and accusatory. He stood stolidly for a time before finally orienting his body in the direction of Captain Asana and her first lieutenant.
"A heavy escort you've brought, Captain," he remarked, eyeing the multitude of mercenaries lining the walls of his office.
"A humble eighteen," Asana reported, "to insure us against your two hundred."
He seemed to smile, but Liselle was not certain of it. Lorhan calmly made his way to his desk, seated himself, and peered at the Eclipse expectantly. "So," he began, "What news of Aria T'Loak might you bring with you? The latest I've heard is a story where she has leapt to the defense of a Citadel diplomat. Does this not concern her followers? What sort of dignified de facto ruler of Omega bends their knee to foreign governments and services them like a common bodyguard?"
"One who knows how to forge strong alliances," said Asana. "Getting on the good side of Council Space politicians is something few ever achieve. More than often our kind get arrested for trespassing the moment we insert our foot in the door. But not Aria T'Loak. She knows how to make friends almost as good as she knows how to use them. You could say that this bit of news only further justifies our reason to be here. If we allow Aria to proceed as she is now, worming her way into massive entities such as the Citadel Council, we might just stop being useful to her in comparison. With our longevity tied to her tolerance, I can't allow that to happen. Jona Sederis, however, remains deferential and naïve. She refuses to believe that the Eclipse is living on borrowed time, that our Omega dispatch needs to take a stand for independence or be whittled away to nothing within a few decades. Even if we may not have her blessing, this must be done for the sake of our organization. The Gysia Division will be the first wave of many, I can assure you. The Eclipse of Omega must follow in our footsteps or die."
Liselle thought the speech compelling. Momentarily even she, with knowledge of their true intentions, was fooled into thinking Asana's stance was earnest.
"I find it exceedingly curious that you would reveal your inclinations without even attempting to bargain with me," said Lorhan.
"Retiring our enmity does not necessarily establish a friendship," Asana clarified. "The conditions for that is what's currently up for discussion. And I'll bargain, sure, but I don't play games. We put our offers down, negotiate and stipulate until we've found common ground, and then we leave."
"A fair request," Lorhan judged the captain's aversion toward nonsense. "One I can comply with. However, you are aware that by the end of this meeting... Aria T'Loak will have marked your division an enemy? Perhaps Sederis will as well. By the time you return to your outpost, contract in hand, her spies will have reported to her. And she does have spies, everywhere. It may be in your interest to accept my offer of sending reinforcements with you, to better help you defend your territories."
"Lorhan's soldiers in an Eclipse outpost," Wasea echoed the offer with disdain, not much caring whether speaking in Asana's stead was at all reprehensible. "I think we'll hold our own just fine. Aria's spies don't worry us at all. Let her know, for all I care. Hell, I'll let her know myself."
"They don't worry you?"
"Not at all. They just expedite Aria's awareness of something we've already extensively prepared for."
"Then you are either brave or foolish," he said, "because I could never be so dismissive of the prospect of spies within my own ranks, especially in the high likelihood that they're present. I usually try to take precautionary measures before speaking aloud of anything important, and I'd extend that same advice to you, Lieutenant. Captain. Do you routinely inspect your forces?" He ran his malevolent gaze over the Eclipse mercenaries stationed like statues behind their commanding officers, briefly settling on each as if he were conducting numerous interviews. Liselle felt ill when his scrutiny passed over her yellow-clad body. "I find it interesting, to see a turian among you. I was under the impression that the Eclipse was primarily an asari and salarian organization."
"We don't discriminate," Asana said, quickly acting to draw attention away from Daus. "We have numerous turians back at the outpost, all contributing and receiving their fair share."
Her assurance didn't seem to influence Lorhan's focus. Still he held Daus under his chilling survey. "Then you wouldn't mind if I requested, for my own comfort, to be permitted to see the faces of those I will soon be working alongside?" Lorhan turned to Asana, whose jaw had visibly adopted an unhealthy amount of tension, seen elsewhere in the shallow, quivering indentation of her temple.
"You want what?" she asked. "You want to see my merc's face?"
"Indulge me, if you would."
When Asana faced their direction, Liselle felt panic creeping into her chest upon seeing the bitter resignation in Captain Asana's features. Asana was going to agree. She had no other choice—resistance would only demonstrate to Lorhan that they were hiding something, and the entire mission would instantly devolve into a frantic scramble for survival once the entire tower was informed of their treachery and became hostile. Worst of all, Liselle knew, was that neither Asana nor Wasea were aware of the necessity for being concealed. Liselle hadn't disclosed to her a single shred of intelligence regarding Nazara or Lorhan's link to them; what technologies he possessed, how it was that he seemed to demonstrate a narrow omnipotence of an operation which they had once believed was exceedingly covert... They were trapped, left to the mercy of Lorhan's recognition.
"All right," Asana mirthlessly conceded. "You, turian. Helmet off."
Daus remained motionless for just a few seconds before lifting a hand. It stalled midway as if quickly debating against himself, but ultimately resumed its rise until he'd found the discreet release that broke the seal between his helmet and his armor. Carefully he angled his hard head-crest out of the helmet, brought it away, and lowered it to rest cradled in one arm. Liselle could perceive an intense shame in his eyes, quavering against inevitability as Lorhan was permitted to behold his young unblemished face where no proud emblems of allegiance had ever painted him.
For a moment Liselle thought it was the end. She braced herself, preparing for Lorhan's inevitable tantrum brought on by exposed deceit, but the ruthless order to gun down the Eclipse liars where they stood never arrived.
"Telycialux Daus," Lorhan said, pronouncing the man's name with practiced accuracy, but wrapping his tongue about the syllables in the absence of anger. He sounded more so intrigued. "What a strange manner in which you've come here. It causes me to wonder... if you've brought anyone else with you." He regarded Asana. "Have all your remaining mercenaries remove their helmets."
Again unable to refuse, Asana relayed the order to her forces. Like Daus, Liselle peeled her helmet away from her head and suffered, tortured by herself, by the penetrating spotlight gaze of the turian smuggler, and by Wasea as well, whose aspect of agitation continued to amplify by the second. Just as before, Drialus Lorhan never assumed any trace of aggression.
"Step forward and approach, Telycialux," he said.
Daus silently obeyed, striding forward on stiff legs, and carved himself a small path between Wasea and Asana before he came to stop in front of Lorhan's desk.
"This project," Lorhan calmly began, primarily speaking to Daus but never mitigating the volume of his voice in search of privacy, "was perhaps the most successful one I've contrived in several years. I honestly couldn't have been more pleased with the outcome, or more impressed by the technique. My only concern is, naturally, your reaction to our scientists in their home. I suppose it would be more becoming of me to assume some of the fault for not disclosing such information, but I hope you understand that the precautions were all very necessary. I have to ask—do you take issue?"
"It was a bit of acting," Daus replied, sounding hollow. "Rasma Visiom informed us that Aria was inserting agents into the Eclipse, so I needed a quick way out. I figured insubordination and emotional distress would be the most efficient way to go about it, and it turned out well enough. Visiom didn't want me anywhere near the house after that."
Lorhan visibly smiled in a peculiar, artificial manner which unsettled but did not quite undermine the veracity of his satisfaction. "Wit and initiative," he said in approval. "And not only that. You've managed to bring me someone else. One of Aria's enforcers, well-endowed with knowledge of her inner workings, her insecurities, her relations... Everything we need to regain the upper hand. Speaking of which, I have a new errand for you, and you'd be wise to accept. I have something I need to give him. All the instructions, including the recipient, will be found in the package. Deliver it and keep vigilant watch. Remember, Telycialux, we are at war. Now you must leave Omega immediately. Aria will relentlessly hunt you if you don't."
"I understand," said Daus.
"Good, you're dismissed."
Beneath the shocked stares of the Eclipse, Telycialux Daus made for the exit where one of Lorhan's mercenaries halted him, placed a very small, gray box in his hands, and opened the door to permit his departure. Daus never once glanced back, leaving Liselle desperately searching in vain for just a glimpse of eye contact which might have helped her comprehend what had just transpired. So bewildered was she that Liselle couldn't even react, couldn't even hate him, couldn't even feel pain or fear while overwhelming confusion drowned out all other mental processes.
"Liselle Kasantis."
When Liselle heard her name on the lips of the despicable man before them, her eyes slowly drew away from the blank surface of the door and regarded him in helpless woe.
"I first heard your name several weeks ago," he said. "Telycialux informed me that you're someone who knows a conspicuous lot about Aria's syndicate, and Aria herself. I'm glad he brought you here. You'll prove very useful to me in the coming days. Captain Asana, if you would, it's in both of our interests that you relinquish that spy of Aria's to me. Cleanse your ranks."
Reluctantly, Asana intended to once again obey his behest, but Wasea intervened.
"Hold up right there," she said. "Kasantis isn't yours to take. She stays in our custody until we're done with her."
"Step back, Lieutenant," Lorhan warned her. Behind him, his soldiers were fidgeting with their firearms, turning the safety off but containing their urge to aim them quite yet. "I'm negotiating with your captain, not you. Captain Asana, I have a proposition. You've come into my tower infested with spies, your carelessness compromising this meeting's privacy for both you and myself. And you wish to be my ally? I once thought the Eclipse efficient and perceptive. It seems I was mistaken all along. If our relations are to continue, I require your deference. I don't deal with organizations who fail to meet my standards of quality. I will permit you to leave here in peace and return once you've purged yourself of spies, but only if you prove your dedication to this condition by giving me Liselle Kasantis."
Wasea's expression contorted into obvious antipathy. "Absolutely not. We'd be handing over an invaluable source of intelligence, for what? A contingent, immaterial offer of further negotiations sometime in the future, which may or may not work out in the end? I'm no fool—"
"Wasea," Asana curtly addressed her, a firm tone of warning lining her words as she invoked her own authority over the first lieutenant. "Stand down."
Captain and lieutenant glared at one another. Obvious to the Eclipse under their command was a challenge of power, of leadership wisdom, of gall when facing their most potent foes. Wasea could see her aim. Asana did not want their mission compromised. In her mind every single person in the room was expendable if it placed Drialus Lorhan in their hands, even the agent Liselle Kasantis, even Wasea herself, since she was so very insistent on jeopardizing the mission for whatever daft reason she possessed. But only Wasea knew that her reason wasn't daft at all. It was the sanest reason in the universe, to dodge responsibility for having Aria's daughter captured, tortured, and probably killed.
"Have Kasantis there restrained," Lorhan told a pair of mercs at his side, presuming Asana's will to be supreme. "Place her in a holding cell until we're ready to have her interviewed."
When Liselle saw the mercenaries approaching, she staggered a terrified step backward and met the wall behind her, left with no where to go. The Eclipse were not leaping to her aid. Not even Aria's agents, still unexposed, would dare risk their cover to save her out of camaraderie. Every individual around her sought only to preserve themselves, bound by Captain Asana's orders which compelled them to express uniform neutrality and submission. Liselle trembled, fearing what would be done to her, fearing the same horrific fate that had left Eruam Anikot's corpse mutilated beyond recognition. She raised her assault rifle in a final bid to save herself, to which the mercs responded by activating their kinetic shield modules. She would never be able to fire quickly enough to dispatch them.
"This ultimately makes the Eclipse stronger," Asana said to Wasea, having watched the way her lieutenant dangerously bristled with widening eyes. She endeavored to pacify her and prevent further altercation. "Compromise is not devaluation. It's an investment."
Wasea turned to face her, shoulders lightly heaving with a bold ambitious wrath burning in the depths of her soul. Just when the hands of Lorhan's mercs were placed upon Liselle, driving the girl to struggle, Wasea lifted an index finger and leveled it with Asana's face. The cryptic gesture puzzled the captain, concerned her greatly. She parted her lips to inquire what Wasea meant to convey, but in Wasea's free hand there lied a discreet panel of switches, the device barely fitting her palm. When Wasea pressed a finger into the face of one of the switches, Liselle vaguely heard the flat pattern of audio tones arising from inside the helmet she'd dropped to the floor, modestly humming and portending the most dreadful of responses.
Wasea's mercenaries opened fire, even several of those standing alongside Asana. So quickly had those in support of Wasea responded to the order that the sudden scream of gunfire jolted Lorhan's mercenaries away from Liselle in surprise, along with the tower's owner himself, who rose from his desk just swiftly enough to witness seven bodies collapse to the floor as if abruptly toppled by a violent gale of wind where they bled, dead and dying, slaughtered in cold unremitting mutiny.
Rightfully fearing their next move, Lorhan quickly ordered his mercs to neutralize Wasea's group. However, at his order chaos broke out amid his own ranks rather than between them and Wasea. Soldier fired upon fellow soldier in a torrent of disarray, revealing to Lorhan through a deluge of blood that not only had the Eclipse been compromised by Aria's spies, but his own organization as well. They had permeated his realm in strength like an infection consuming the very flesh of his enterprise.
Wasea had commanded that her own mercs hold their fire. Liselle took aim with them but obeyed, standing over the bodies of those who had tried to capture her as they waited for the skirmish to produce a victor. When the exchange of gunshots and close-quarters knifing had subsided, five agents still lived. At once they rushed over to the office exit and began barricading it with every stark piece of utilitarian furniture in the room, effectively preventing reinforcements from bursting in to collect their endangered employer. The Eclipse soon joined in by smashing in the lock mechanism and moving chairs and cabinets alike until a humble mountain had been erected.
The time had come to seize Lorhan. Wasea had her mercs cautiously approach the panic-stricken man, whose geth-augmented gaze ran over each of them in frenetic hatred. Liselle could see the holster of a sidearm protruding from the torso piece of his attire, but he did not draw it in his defense. Rather, Lorhan raised his metallic left arm when the mercenaries closed in and simultaneously pressed three buttons flush with the underside of his wrist. He displayed to them a blinking light, red and ominous, and bade them to stay back.
"Satellite-class mining explosives!" he exclaimed, shedding his leveled demeanor for a wild fit of survivalist passion. "The very instant I am removed from this building it will detonate, carving a kilometer-wide crater into this district, and the only way to disarm it is exclusively known by a handful of technicians twelve stories below our position!"
"Grab him," Wasea insisted, and her mercs obeyed. Lorhan was easily overcome and restrained, brutally pushed to the floor where the operatives held him.
Liselle could hear a blaring alarm sounding outside the office and echoing beneath her feet in the same pattern of sound. Everyone in the tower had been alerted to the situation and were zealously responding. Soon enough, they began hearing pounding on the reinforced door, trying to breach their barricade and reach Lorhan. Wasea directed them to take positions all around the office, ducking behind the sparse furniture that remained as makeshift cover as they awaited the imminent firefight, laser sights dancing along the irregular metal surfaces of their barricade.
They were trapped anew, Liselle recognized. A band of eighteen against a hundred trying to pour into their little alcove, but Wasea wasn't overtly troubled by the odds.
"They won't throw any grenades in here while Lorhan's with us," she told them. "Keep him close. That man's our meat shield until further notice." She tapped an index finger against her communicator. "Ready for pickup," she said, and might've said more, had she not reassigned her attention to a weak sputtering sound near her feet.
It was the captain, bleeding and weakly clinging onto a swirling state of awareness. Asana focused on Wasea as the vigorous pounding on the door echoed on regular interval, and she sneered at her in a rasping voice, "You... You fucking, disgusting traitor... You vile serpent... You... You wanted this." She gritted her teeth in bitter resent, spitting her own saliva and blood at the boots of her lieutenant. "Fucking traitor. You made a deal with her, didn't you...? That devil..."
Wasea was merely amused to see that Asana yet lived. She looked down at her with a superior leer, ignoring the stares of her forces, and quietly said to her, "This is Omega, Captain. There are demons here, everywhere we go, whispering and waiting for us to pass through their gates, and we inevitably do. We have all signed deals with a devil at some point, Asana. Maybe I've done it so much that now I'm a devil too."
With twisted pleasure Wasea gave the trigger of her heavy pistol a quick squeeze and was done with the captain forever. Even as the very walls of the office seemed to groan with the strain of an entire syndicate aspiring to kill them, she proudly declared to her entrenched, scant forces, "It appears as though natural procession of rank and authority would see me as your captain now. Captain Wasea, of the Gysia Division. I like the sound of that..." She strode several leisurely steps about the office in victory. "So how does that sound? Good, yes? Operative?"
The salarian she addressed gave a nod.
She was pleased by his response. "Ultimately makes the Eclipse stronger," she acridly mocked Asana. "Surrendering your agents to anyone who asks for them makes the Eclipse stronger? Did you people enjoy that, being so easily disposable to your captain?" Wasea didn't receive any affirmative answers. "Fuck Asana. I'm making the Eclipse stronger. Gysia needed a big strong fucking leader to take care of it, not some little sycophant bitch. And how about you, Lorhan? How does Captain Wasea sound to you?" Her steps brought her to stop before the turian, held against the floor by combination of tied wrists and a merc's boot unkindly placed on his back.
"It sounds utterly temporary," he muttered with spite.
"Yet not nearly as temporary as you," she said, then smashed the solid toe of her boot into his shoulder, burying into tender flesh the tall ridge of his collar attempted to protect. He growled viciously and defiantly in pain, refusing to make any sound that would gratify his captor.
"Captain," said a mercenary, "how are we going to leave with him? The bomb—"
"Patience," she interrupted her. "Have some trust in your new captain. Just relax and revel in what we're about to pull off: one of the best abductions in all the history of our organization."
Wasea, still enchanted by the afterglow of assuming the highest rank after the founder Jona Sederis herself, paid little attention to the skycars hovering near the wide glass window. Liselle was among those who did see them, and punctually caught her notice, "Wasea..."
"What?"
"Outside."
She turned to the source of the rust-colored glow that poured into the room, looking beyond the pane to see the dreary light cast by Sahrabarik seeping between the buildings, where shadows of skycars eclipsed and drew ever closer as they strategically approached. Doors lifted open, producing the barrels of weapons, but they never took aim at the building itself. The vista before the office was suddenly embroiled in conflict. Skycars sprouted smoke and glittered bright yellow as hails of bullets speckled and glanced off their shells. When one of Lorhan's cars was engulfed by fire, an unruly smile broke out on Wasea's face, thrilled beyond words to see her plan blossom so perfectly. Support had arrived in the form of a nimble fleet, marked proudly by crests bearing characters from a language Liselle translated to the best of her ability: House Igrahal of Mazat, and others—compact double and single-pilot fighters meant for spacefaring spreading out among them—carrying the wicked insignia of the Dar'nerah pirate fleet.
"It's the batarians!" one of Wasea's mercenaries exclaimed.
So Aria had convinced Sahra Parem Igrahal to go to war with her, Liselle marveled as they witnessed the battle between the spires. The pirates were well-experienced over endless seasons of raiding, easily outmaneuvering the less agile vehicles piloted by Lorhan's army and reducing them to orange bursts of shrapnel with alarming speed and accuracy. Even the few gunships that had mobilized upon realizing the tower was under attack could not keep their guidance systems locked onto the fighters for long. They would spin and weave and the missiles would be lost to the caverns, and then the fighters would return to sink the gunships where they floated in the desolate air above the compound.
One of Igrahal's skycars escorted by half a dozen vessels fending off all enemies who drew close, hovered close to the office window, and through its opening passenger door an armored batarian extended his arms to hold a white-hot cutting tool to the glass. He carved a wide aperture with ease, large enough to fit two bodies through abreast, and the Eclipse aided his efforts by forcing the ovular cutting out of their way. Wasea was quick to update him.
"Get in here and hand me that tool," she told him, and he quickly complied. After he placed the cutting tool in her hand she passed it onto one of Aria's agents, who had posed as one of Lorhan's guard. "We need to get that arm off of Lorhan, now!"
The turian obeyed without hesitation, flicking on the power and intensifying the contained beam of energy until it resembled a diamond glowing with heat, then held it to Drialus Lorhan's forearm as his fellow operatives held the man down. Not wanting to potentially tamper with the prosthetic's inner mechanism and erroneously set off the charge, the agent cut into his flesh, just above the elbow where the metal terminated, and all occupants of the room were subjected to the agonized shouts of their hostage as his carapace burned away and left muscle tissue and bone to the mercy of the instrument. Though it did not take long to completely slice through the limb and leave it black and cauterized, Lorhan had passed out from the pain and struggled no more against them. Swiftly they hauled him up from the floor and placed him in the back seat of the skycar.
"A shuttle's coming in to get you," the batarian told him as he climbed back into the pilot's seat. "We're bringing him straight to Aria."
"Hold on," said Wasea. "Let me send one of my people with you in the meantime. Not that I don't trust you bastards—just a standard precaution. Liselle, come here." She hastily motioned to her.
Liselle approached the window upon recognizing Wasea's interest to have her out of danger as soon as possible, and she gave her no trouble. It would've been difficult to object to such a beneficial order.
"That's fine," the batarian agreed. Liselle began carefully stepping into the car. "Get in and let's get the hell—"
A whining screech pierced the air and drowned out the rest of his statement. One of the fighters previously protecting them had come hurling in their direction after being shot out of the sky, spinning in a turbulent dive while losing debris to the attrition of flame and popping electronics. While most of the Eclipse managed to flee from the window in time, the separated wing of the fighter collided with the skycar, its tip bursting through the windshield and impaling the pilot. His deathly spasming against the controls sent the car veering away and downward, pulling Liselle with it, whose feet were still split occupying both the car and the building. When she lost her footing in both occasions she shrieked with fear as she fell away from the weltering car. Weightlessness surged in her gut at the floor no longer existing beneath her feet, bringing her down three terrifying stories before she was able to biotically brake her descent enough to grasp onto the exterior frame of the elevator they had taken to Lorhan's office. With a bang her body sharply halted, where approximately ten meters away and below her position the skycar hovered inert, its pilot deceased. Her assault rifle had fallen from her reassigned hands and tumbled into the abyssal depths of the district.
"Fucking shit!" Liselle heard Wasea loudly curse from above, reacting to the combination of losing custody of their hostage and nearly watching Aria's daughter plummet to her death. All around Liselle the airborne battle persisted, sprays of bullets puncturing the nearby face of the building while booms reverberated far below. She could not stay there and wait for rescue. Eventually she would be struck by stray fire or lose her grip, and it was impossible to decide which fate would prove worse. The maiden drew in a deep breath that filled her lungs to capacity as she fixated on the open door of the skycar, and tensed her muscles in search of the biotic might her mother had promised in her blood. There was no more room for doubt, none for fear nor timidness. Her heart was set aflame by instinct, burning brightly and hotly with the pain of betrayal as notions of Daus balefully resurfaced in her conscience, who had once promised that they'd protect each other. Had he kept his word, he would've been there for her now. Reality scalded her, evaporated her tears and despair until her wells of emotion were refilled with boiling vengeance. There was no one to trust but herself, no one to depend on but herself. Self-preservation was her prerogative alone.
Liselle propelled herself from the elevator's outer frame by biotically pushing off with her feet, and after what felt like a terrifying eternity spent flailing through the air she smacked against the hood of the car, where her fingers and boots squealed along the polished metal in search of grooves. When she had recovered, Liselle quickly climbed into the vehicle, confirmed the pilot was truly dead, and ejected him from the car with a silent apology uttered in the privacy of her mind. Accessing the computer, she lifted the skycar back into position in front of the office, just in time to spot the promised shuttle approaching to pick up the Eclipse.
"Get out of here, Liselle!" Wasea commanded her. "Get out of here and get him to Aria! Go!"
Behind the captain, the barricade at the door shook and finally began to collapse. The Eclipse forces were diving for cover now, aiming down the sights of their firearms at the breach. Pressed for time, Liselle obeyed Wasea's order and brought the skycar away, and the last sight she caught of her allies was Lorhan's mercenaries bursting through the door to the office to pin them down in a brutal firefight. Liselle engaged the engines, accelerating away as fast as the craft could bear in so short a time to escape the fray with their unconscious prisoner. Against the body of the car she could hear the periodic clink of bullets and debris, never quite penetrating, and Liselle prayed it was a sign attesting to that she hadn't been targeted or pursued, because she possessed no mounted weapons to properly defend herself with if Lorhan's hirelings gave chase.
Resourcefully but ineffectively she flipped on the autopilot to turn around and check the man's pockets and discreet flaps in his attire to search for transponders, fighting impotently against the high likelihood of any such devices being subdermal if they indeed existed. When she found nothing she assessed him again, ensuring that he was properly restrained, although his condition of missing one forearm made it considerably more difficult to secure him.
An idea came to her. She gripped the sleeve of his dark suit still clothing his maimed limb, and tore away a strip in an ascending spiral to considerably extend its length. With the ribbon of material she blinded him by wrapping it several times around his face, disallowing any information he might be able to transmit to Nazara, or anyone else for that matter. After tying a tight knot behind his head, Liselle returned to the skycar controls and checked to see if the autopilot was still adequately functioning even after its panel suffered a worrisome degree of physical damage.
For a time she traveled in unnerving silence with Lorhan in the back, unsure of when he would awake or how he would react upon gathering his bearings. Liselle would've called someone for aid, either Zuria or Aria, had she not been thoroughly saturated with the fear of interception. No, she had to fly as dark as possible, eliminating all non-essential transmissions, and hoping the broken windshield would not attract attention she could not handle. The emergency kinetic shield suspended over the jagged hole kept the biting winds out of the vessel as she eased it into speeds well exceeding two hundred kilometers per hour. Listening to the droning electric hum of the engine steeply climb in pitch was always pleasing to the ears on a visceral level, and she considered breaking three hundred for expediency's sake, but moving significantly faster than the majority flow of traffic always heightened the chance that just one person disengaging their autopilot would suddenly pose a deadly hazard.
Only ten minutes elapsed before Liselle heard Drialus Lorhan stirring in the row of seats behind her, vocalizing a nonsensical slur of words as he came to, before distress returned to him upon recalling the state of his left arm. A frustrated cry of pain and trauma left his throat, filling the interior of the skycar and causing Liselle to jump in her seat. The exclamation dwindled from its peak, devolving into fearful, disoriented gasping and muttering of curses. Liselle made no effort to palliate his fretting, not wanting to say anything that might compromise her identity and make the journey twice as difficult as it needed to be.
"Spirits! Where am I?" he demanded, his flanging tones undulant with weakness. "I'm in a car—I can hear it. Who's driving!? Wasea? One of my own?"
"I can't answer that," said Liselle.
"Why the hell not? You are either friendly to me or an enemy. There is no neutral ground to tread on anymore, so why can't you at least tell me whether I'm headed for safety or death? Do I truly not deserve to know that much?"
Liselle refrained from replying. Her silence elicited an aggravated exhale from Lorhan. For a time he struggled against the bind tying his elbows together, the restraints catching on the clothed protrusions of his carapace which rendered him unable to slip out and free himself. Even so, Liselle closely monitored him until he surrendered to his situation and became dismally quiet. They sat in terrible discomfort for what Liselle thought to be an hour, despite the skycar's computer only counting three minutes.
"Tell me something," Lorhan said. "Why is it that so many harbor an insatiable compulsion to make subordinates out of all surrounding creatures? Why does it so often come down to petty things like wealth and rulership? Passing through ages of fire and torment without visible end, always perishing before the means have even produced the intended results. And then the spirit of it all continues in another's conquest. Why do this?"
Liselle, who watched in paranoia for the slightest error in the warm orange text reporting the skycar's systems data in the panel before her, hadn't much patience for philosophy or introspection. "Because people like you participate," she unhappily decided. She checked the rear-view camera for the third time that same minute.
"My arm has been removed from my body for the third time in my life," Lorhan said at great personal distance. "I no longer have relation to it. It's a glove that can be pulled on and taken off arbitrarily, or outfitted with explosives, made into a weapon. Telycialux programmed that feature for me. When he first came to work for me he was a mere boy abandoned by dishonorable parents. Now I can only hope that he finds peace elsewhere for the time being, helping Kylris finish this." At Liselle's silence, Lorhan elaborated. "The way I see my current predicament... you are either one of two things. You are either Aria T'Loak's agent collecting me at her behest, or you are that last resort we were promised. And either you are already aware of everything I say to you, or you will know shortly. I wouldn't resist Aria if I'm to find myself at her mercy. There's no wisdom nor any intrinsic value found in fighting a battle where death is certain, contrary to what Kylris, Marus, and perhaps all my people may collectively believe. I've outlasted my demise through caution and opportunity. And I shall do it again, even if I must forego everything I've thoroughly spent myself on for the last few months. Kylris and Marus wanted to fashion a galaxy where their children could raise their families in peace wherever they might venture, where Attican worlds could be colonized without suffering the cruelty or allure of piracy. This may or may not come to pass, but not at my expense."
"Telycialux Daus," Liselle cautiously began. She selected her words with care, assembling them in such a manner that would probe information without giving herself away. "He... warned Vathesa about Aria's spies."
"He did," Lorhan flatly answered. "The warning bought them enough time to prepare."
"And Daus... helped ambush Aria during the second incident with the Spectre?"
"No, he did not. And I wouldn't know who compromised that one—I believe they're in Marus's care, not mine. But Telycialux eliminated two lieutenants. Pasora, I believe, was the first, and Aetius Visiom the second. Marus couldn't bear to ordain that death himself. He'd already mourned his son who'd been long lost to the vices of this place... yet he still refused to deal the final blow. That responsibility fell to me, and then to Daus. An extraordinarily savage way we've gone about this, pitting our offspring against one another. Telycialux was, perhaps, the closest thing I ever had to a son, despite his professional distance. It's likely I'll never see him again."
Liselle felt her skin prickling with a queasy unease. So quick was Drialus Lorhan to capitulate, to spill his secrets and incriminate everyone involved, and whether it was out of spite or out of a sudden obsequiousness toward anyone with a hint of influence over his fate was irrelevant to Liselle. What mattered to her most was the contents of his mind and memory, liberally flooding the compact shell of the skycar with profiles of the individuals who had led the cabal against Aria. At the helm of it all were other turians by the names of Kylris and Marus, both deeply invested in Omega enough to draw their third friend Drialus into the plot, who'd been extremely accommodating, but ultimately uninterested in the merit of their pursuits.
When Lorhan had spoken to her he had sounded poignantly contrite, as if the presence of a grave mistake had finally dawned on him, and he was responding by abandoning ship at the first opportunity. This was why, Liselle realized, Lorhan had built up his defenses so thoroughly and spent his days a secretive recluse and not a warlord of clout, because he knew himself, and knew his inclination to let go of all hope and conviction once in the hands of those who would harm him.
She wasn't certain if she could fault him for his capriciousness. He smuggled because it was his talent, procured weapons and equipment for his allies because it was what he did best, and made immense profits off it all because it was opportunity. Just the same, he was adapting again in the name of survival, not pride, valor, or greed. Survival alone, driving him to bargaining as if the mode were programmed in his brain to activate once certain situational criteria had been met. Torn from the hard shell of his tower, the man was of absurdly fragile spirit. Aria would break him in seconds once she got her hands on him, but wouldn't need to break him at all in the first place. He was already wide open, ready for birds of carrion to devour him.
"If you are to deliver me to Aria," Lorhan said, "I would inform her that I can be of magnificent use. I know much, and am capable of even more with my varied connections. I have never been a vainglorious man, but always a pragmatic one. I understand that Aria is both, and hope that she will see things with similar perspective."
Possibly he sought Liselle's sympathy. A glimpse of pity felt for a man doomed to suffer and die in a cold interrogation room like the traitors before him. In another time Liselle might have bent under the pressure of such wrenching images, touching the tender emotions she cradled in innocence, but there was nothing left to spare for Drialus Lorhan. A peculiar membrane of numbness had closed over her flesh, sealing her against the despair of Daus's betrayal trying to penetrate her heart. It was self-protection.
She wondered if this was what her mother had stumbled upon many centuries ago, if this was the phenomenon that hardened her into who she was presently. Wave after wave of molten adversity washing over her, searing and scarring her skin to the point at which it no longer hurt but instead formed a thick outer hide which no blade nor loss of personal favor could puncture, save for very rare select circumstances. Replacing her mortal form with a being of steel, both glacially cold and conductive to unfathomable heat, forcefully tearing her way through all who could never stop her as if they were mere quivers in the void.
It was intoxicating; the idea of immunity to pains that would hinder her, limit her. After all she'd endured, after encountering so many people who'd deceived and hurt her, there was nothing in the universe Liselle desired more than respite from it all. To be a body that could not be acted upon, immutable and steady and strong like the people she admired most. She drew the concept of Omega around her like a blanket, wild and free and decadent, and forced into herself a sense of pleasure and accomplishment in having Drialus Lorhan as her precious cargo. She'd heavily participated in what Wasea had identified as a kidnapping whose scale would be immortalized in legend and infamy: the day Lorhan was swept away by a handful of Eclipse and a surprise attack by the batarian powers of the station, the operation over within a single hour.
It no longer mattered if he was to live or die. Liselle had simply succeeded where he had failed, and such was the natural procession of existence for all eternity.
Afterlife finally came into view, burning and brooding. Liselle found an unoccupied platform and lowered the skycar into it, opened the doors, and immediately searched the people milling about the street for a handful of Aria's operatives who could help transport Lorhan. Finally deeming herself safe, Liselle placed a call to Zuria. When she picked up she inquired as to whether Aria was around.
"She should be here soon," Zuria said. "At least, she wanted to be present to see the results of a... particular operation."
"Are you in the club right now?" Liselle asked.
"Yes, I'm standing in for Aria again."
Liselle successfully waved down two mercenaries employed to Aria. While they approached her, Liselle spoke again into her communicator, "Well, you should come out for a bit. I think you'd want to handle this."
"What is it?"
"Just come out, trust me."
"What do you need, Eclipse?" one of the mercs, a batarian, asked Liselle. She had nearly forgotten the yellow armor still concealing her true allegiance. To allay their budding distrust Liselle produced a screen on her omni-tool, revealing to them her commonly-known name and authorizations granted by Aria's syndicate, and they became instantly more amenable to her requests.
"Help me move him," she said, gesturing to the blindfolded prisoner. "He needs to go to Zuria."
They aided her in removing Drialus Lorhan out of the back seat, keeping their gloved hands wrapped around his restrained arms as they passed through many gawking bystanders during their short trip to the nightclub's entrance. The last thing Liselle ever heard Lorhan utter to her was a hollow, "So, to death, then."
Just as they climbed the steps and passed by the bouncer the doors opened, producing the puzzled lieutenant, who looked upon Liselle in her Eclipse colors with surprise, then realization. Her gaze drifted from the maiden to the man she brought with her, bound and blinded, and she seemed to recognize his profile.
Zuria gave orders without delay, directing the mercenaries, along with several others accompanying her, to move Lorhan to the lower levels of the club as quickly and discreetly as they could, and to not speak to anyone else until they'd deposited him in a secure holding cell. And then her eyes returned to Liselle, who relaxed her shoulders upon being relieved of her tremendous burden. Zuria exhaled and shook her head.
"How did you...?"
Liselle could never formulate an answer concise enough for the lieutenant. Instead she smiled, optimistically seeking her former mentor's approval and fully expected to receive it. But Zuria only grimly swallowed before giving a cracked, untruthful smile in return that only lasted a second.
"I need to debrief you immediately," she said, gesturing back to the club. Together they entered the quieter antechamber where parties often coalesced before emerging onto the main floor. Images of fire danced infernally above their heads. "So you volunteered for the Eclipse job? I thought you were... I thought you were out with your team. Did First Lieutenant Wasea authorize this?" Zuria's expression darkened.
"I think it's Captain Wasea now," Liselle wryly responded. "But she did. I made her."
"Made her?"
"Just... It's a long story. Can we talk in private?"
"Exactly where we're headed," said Zuria. An explosion of music and chatter engulfed them when they strode out into Afterlife's floor, then headed into one of the red halls wrapping around the base of the building. Their destination was the private lounge in which Aria held many of her administrational meetings. "Made her," she repeated in disbelief. "Who do you think you are, Liselle? Aria?"
They paused in front of the lounge's locked door and faced one another. Liselle had smiled again, thinking Zuria had meant her question in humor, but found little evidence of joy in the matron's face, just as before.