A/N: I apologize for the very long delay. I've been going through some medical and personal issues, as well as being caught up in work. Hopefully, the chapter will make up for your wait, and I've already started on the next chapter.

There is one more chapter to come before the Angstrofuck of Doom is at last upon us.

As usual, none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of the Editing Gang.

Also as usual, you should seriously check out Aberron's "Living an Indoctrinated Dream."

'I think Ilium was where the person I used to know as Sara Shepard finally died. Before that, she hated being called the Butcher. She felt like she had to be better, to make something of herself. After Ilium, after seeing what had been done to Liara, after seeing how sick the shit in the Broker's files was… she wasn't ever the same again. After Ilium… there was only the Butcher.'

-Admiral Charles Pressly, 'At the Right Hand of Justice'

In a sealed, secured room inside an seemingly abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Nos Astra, a lone asari grimly checked all of her weapons one by one, keeping half an eye on the haptic screen on the far wall. Racks of weapons and crates of various illegal substances were tucked neatly into the corners of the room, the glossy black floor and gray paneled walls marred by the smoking corpse of another asari in the corner.

She racked home the slide on her Revenant heavy machine gun before casting an arched glance to the other figure in the room.

"The chances of you coming out of this alive are bad, you know. Even with your skills."

The deep red coat that the other person wore shifted as he turned around, his hood concealing most, but not all, of his drell features. His voice was raspy and low. "And it is equally unlikely that you shall survive much longer than today. But if you can get me into Dantius Tower… then I can get you off-world and away from the justicars."

She smirked, setting the base of the heavy weapon down, her replica justicar armor displaying much of her form. "The justicars know I've pulled this stunt before. If Nassana goes to check…"

The drell Remembrance Dancer gave a low, amused laugh. "Slime like my target isn't going to draw more justicar attention onto herself. If her goons let you pass and you say you're here for her sister, I suspect she'll fall over herself greeting you. And it is not unheard of for real justicars to work with my kind, Mirala."

"Call me 'Morinth.' Better yet, get used to calling me 'Samara.' " She glanced at the display again. "I'm just saying there's a risk, Thane. My mother is going to be expecting me to pull this sort of game."

The drell moved a bit, his face edging into the light from the far wall. "I have a few friends left. Let's just say they'll be distracted."

Morinth rolled her eyes and, setting aside the Revenant, examined her warp sword critically. "They'd better."

O-TWCD-O

In an elegant high-rise near the center of the city, another asari – this one in expensive Thessian silk robes mantled with a black lace shawl – sighed in exasperation at the figure on the vidscreen.

"Look, I'm telling you this is not a good idea – the place is the political equivalent of an uncontrolled plasma fire right now! The Thirty want this place locked down – there's a very dangerous ardat-yakshi on the planet, and my people keep hearing rumors that the Sisters are working with her. You can't expect me to just look the other way."

The figure on the screen was a salarian. Its arms and legs were plain, simple cybernetics, its body sheathed in armor and black ballistic fiber and its face was hidden behind a blank metal mask, concealing its identity, its sex – even its age. The voice that answered was cool, almost emotionless and monotone. "We are aware of the situation. Indeed, we hope it will distract from the operation. I have already informed the SIX of the situation. Nevertheless, we are sure the strike will fall soon. If you want your mate to be released unharmed, you'll go along with our suggestions."

The asari glared hatefully at the figure. "This will not go unheard by the Council of Matriarchs, STG Master. I assure you it will not!"

The STG Master's voice didn't change in pitch or tone. "You are clanless, have two sisters who you illegally smuggled out of the Republic to join the Alliance, are in a relationship with a clan asari you have mentally raped and suborned into being your paramour, and are using your position to profit from the Shadow Broker, my own clients, and the Wheel knows who else."

The STG Master's voice was softer, but amused. "I cannot wait to see just how quickly the justicars would reduce you to paste if you were to 'go to the Council of Matriarchs.' You have been given your orders – complete them and your pet will be returned to you unharmed."

Commander Sethara, the highest ranking officer of the Ilium Defense Forces, sighed and grimaced. "Very well. I'll reroute the defense nets and ensure any alarms caused by this incident are… nullified. I'll have a hacker who owes me distract the justicars as much as I can. And I'll try – no promises – to deal with the Fleet Commander." She exhaled as the STG Master nodded. "How long until this blows up?"

"The timeframe is not set yet. I will contact you when it is. Given that we are sending six full teams, I will be displeased if you double-cross us."

O-TWCD-O

General Petrovsky looked over the ranks of the three Centurion teams. Each was led by a Centurion officer, and consisted of four troopers, two long-range snipers, two heavily armored CQB specialists with cyberware, and a combat engineer. Another five teams were on standby, arrayed in ranks against the back of the docking bay.

He took a single, sharp breath before speaking, his voice low and hard. "Our goals on this operation are simple. One, retain positive contact with Agent Trellani and Agent Dunn and ensure their safety. Two, prepare for the arrival of the Revenant Cell and their people to localize and recover these 'Sisters of Vengeance.' Three, once Agent Trellani is in place, act as a counter to any deployed Broker combat teams."

We'll do six hour rotations. Team One, you'll be on hot for first watch over Trellani and Dunn. Team Two, you'll be backup and working on preparing the forward op zone. Team Three, you'll be down and sleeping, ready to take over from Team One at shift change."

His eyes raked across the men at the back. "Centurion Teams Four through Eight will be on direct standby in combat pinnaces. You'll drop on the orders of either Agent Lawson or the Butcher." His jaw tensed. "If things go bad, Heavy Combat Team NEMESIS will drop with all ten ATLAS combat suits and proceed with Plan Epsilon."

He exhaled. "I don't have to tell you this, but Ilium is a very hostile environment. Until you hear otherwise, nothing we carry down - except for HCT NEMESIS - is to be Cerberus-produced. No logos. You will be infiltrating as standard mercs on a long-term contract with Elkoss Combine. Maintain full comms security at all times. If things get compromised where backups have to drop, then we're going to be openly exposed, and it's very unlikely we will be able to retrieve you all. Act accordingly."

He folded his hands behind his back. "If Trellani or Dunn are compromised before Agent Lawson arrives, you are to intervene immediately. Send up distress code SIGMA if that happens and we'll begin immediate pullout." He glanced around. "Questions?"

O-TWCD-O

"I want it on record that this is a stupid fucking idea."

Commissar Jiong did not bother to respond, busy checking his combat armor. The thickset figure of Commandant Chisholm puffed thoughtfully on his cigar before nodding at the haptic screen displaying the face of Admiral Ahern.

"You're probably right, Admiral. But we haven't got any other good leads yet. We don't know when Shepard – if it is Shepard – will be responding to the message sent by Spectre Vasir. And even if we get a response, there's no guarantee she's going to be stupid enough to meet us in a place where we hold all the cards."

He puffed on the cigar again. "We know she went to rescue Archangel when he got in trouble, and she's made statements about the Sisters of Vengeance before. We have a resource on Ilium who's gotten herself into deep trouble, and the Commissariat is going in to pull her out of there before things escalate any further. That's our cover."

Ahern sighed. "Even if she does show up, Ilium is a total clusterfuck right now. Sending in the contact team without the combat element is going to get someone killed if things go hot!"

Chisholm shrugged. "I have six senior Commissars, not counting Commissar Jiong, and five squads of Lancers. We also have Commissar D'Alte, Commodore Anderson, Lieutenant Williams, and the ex-N7, Jackson. It's not like we're helpless, Admiral – and if we can make early contact now we can determine several things. A quick scan of her body will give us more information on her capabilities if we do have to take her out."

The image of Ahern scowled before waving his hand in disgust. "It's on your head if this turns into a pile of fuck, Chisholm." He shook his head. "I'd feel better if Tela was going with you."

Chisholm raised his eyebrow. "I find it curious she would vanish after sending her message off. Given that she was the one who provided the telemetry showing geth bases in the Traverse that ended up with Shepard getting killed… I have my concerns."

Ahern's expression hardened. "Commandant, I would strongly suggest you focus on your own shit and not make unsupported fucking assertions about someone I'd trust my life to."

Chisholm shrugged, stubbing out his cigar. "As you wish. I'll contact you when we reach Ilium orbit. Chisholm out." He clicked off, then chuckled softly.

Jiong looked up from his work. "What is amusing, Commandant?"

Chisholm's smile was thin and nasty. "Long story. Never mind that. I'll be putting you in charge of the combat teams on the surface, while I stay with the contact team. You are familiar with the target?"

Jiong shrugged. "Only vaguely. I never interacted with Project Inverse directly… but I believe that Shepard and Liara both ran into Agent Mirala during their honeymoon. They spoke… well of her."

Chisholm nodded. "She's a nasty piece of work, but pretty focused on stopping bad guys. Unfortunately, the last operation she was on went to hell and she's been run to ground on Ilium. Her last comm said she was working on something big with 'local contacts and old friends,' but our own sources tell us the justicars know she's planetside and are going in hard to find her."

Chisholm's expression grew thoughtful. "Given she's the only ardat-yakshi agent we have, her recovery – alive – is of higher importance than making contact with the Butcher. Keep that in mind."

Jiong nodded slowly. "I understand. Are we going to engage in combat with justicars?"

Chisholm nodded. "Most likely. That's why the squads and Commissars are going in using altered gear and armor. I'm a bit too well-known to pull this off, so that's why I put you in charge. Get this one right and maybe I can talk the Judgment Cadre into fixing whatever they've done to D'Alte."

Jiong tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. "That… would be appreciated, sir. I'll do my best."

Chisholm merely smiled and left the room, heading for another part of the Commissariat facility on the Citadel. Once he reached his own rooms, he engaged the signal cutout device given to him by Cerberus and opened an encrypted comm-link.

"The bait is set. The party will be a wild one, so expect extra guests. At the moment, the plan is only to talk. Orders?"

Chisholm waited a good ten minutes before the reply came in, encrypted as well. "Proceed with the plan. Inform me of changes."

He killed the link and deactivated the signal cutout device, and placed the latter into his boot, glancing over the temporary quarters here one last time before heading back out the door. Working for Cerberus had turned out well so far – he only hoped it continued to do so with this rather risky operation.

O-TWCD-O

Tetrimus interlaced his talons, cybernetic eye glowing red in the dimness of the comms room. "Have you localized the Sisters, Arga? Or am I going to be forced to take a direct hand in this operation?"

The black-suited quarian on the comm gave a shake of his enviro-helmet, his voice tightly wound with fear and urgency. "You may have to take a direct hand. I'm still working on an angle. Things are getting crazy – some asari terrorist is in the capital and someone tried to kill Nassana is Dahlia was behind it, her name's come up more than a couple of times in connection with the Sisters of Vengeance. I've been trying to get a meet together, but…"

He trailed off, even as an explosion shook the screen faintly. "…things are getting out of hand. I think the Sisters know I'm tracing them, half my team is dead. We need help."

Tetrimus leaned back in his chair. "I've got a dozen kill teams on hot standby. But I'm not going to go wandering about down on the surface of Ilium with no idea of where my target might be. I'll also be rather displeased at you having wasted my time if I have to handle things myself."

The quarian gave a shaky laugh. "I'm sure you are. I've done my best, but these Sisters are like ghosts… I've found out only a little bit – they are clearly working with at least some of the data brokers on the planet, but which ones I've been unable to figure out."

Tetrimus folded his arms. "That doesn't help me at all."

Arga gave a twitchy shrug. "I know, but operating down here is not easy. Like I said, I'll need more men, at the very least – a tech team would be better. I can't be sure I've isolated this base well enough to avoid them tracking me back…" He trailed off, then whirled, pulling out a shotgun as a heavy explosion rang out in the background.

Tetrimus sighed, already knowing how this would end.

The gun had not even come up halfway when a flare of blue energy smashed the quarian away from the video pickup, leaving behind a smear of blood on the wall and the sounds of screaming and weapons firing in the background. Several seconds later, a figure entered into the camera's range.

The figure wore deep black armor trimmed in dark crimson, a full facial mask covering whatever features she had. A crimson sash around a narrow waist had a warp sword hanging from it, while a heavy pistol was gripped tightly in one hand. The pistol fired twice at something off-screen. A spatter of blood struck the armor as the figure turned to face the camera, voice distorted heavily by a voder, but still clearly thick with anger.

"Tetrimus Rakora. How pleasant to see you."

The turian leaned back further, flicking a mandible in glee. "Ah, you must be one of the Sisters of Vengeance. I've so looked forward to meeting you in-person, but you're hard to pin down."

He watched the figure carefully, noting the limbs shaking in rage, and the choked quality of the voice. "You are not going to be smiling for much longer, animal. Your stupid spy didn't secure his communications net properly."

Tetrimus only smiled more widely. "I know. On purpose." He tapped a control on his desk. "Arga was an incompetent, and I figured you'd sniff him out soon enough. But he landed with five teams of operatives, who have just been alerted to your position."

He killed the link, then opened another one. "Kill Team Nine, execute."

He waited several seconds for a response, before frowning and tapping a different comm-link. "Kill Team Fifteen."

This time he got an answer, but not the one he was expecting – another angry sounding female voice, distorted and even colder than the first. "I'm afraid your agent was even more stupid than you considered, Tetrimus. Your kill teams are all dead. And once we finish our trace, we'll be seeing you in-person."

Tetrimus snarled and killed the link, then tapped another control. "Comm Security, we have a level two data breach from Ilium to the uplink. Kill and scramble the signal."

The calm voice of the salarian tech leader answered. "Already done, Ginnister. We were monitoring the comm-link. They probably managed to trace the bounce to the cruiser we have in orbit around Peshka, but the signal goes through an open space laser link at that point to avoid any further traces – we're secure."

Tetrimus exhaled. "Have ten – no, twelve heavy security teams physically board the cruiser at Peshka, and prep a new link cruiser in another system. Send a tech team to rig the cruiser for remote detonation. I'm fairly certain the Sisters are trapped on Ilium, but no chances can be taken."

Rising from his desk, he walked into the Broker's sanctum, where the Broker was reviewing data streams from the sensor net around the gas giant. "You have a report, Tetrimus?"

The turian flickered a mandible in frustration. "Arga failed, as expected. More spectacularly than expected, actually. The kill teams were neutralized, Arga is dead, and the Sisters are probably trying to trace things back."

The yahg's features were set in what Tetrimus recognized as faint amusement. "That will not succeed. And even if it was successful, we are three hours from moving to the next gas giant in the sequence."

Tetrimus nodded tersely. "I'm aware. My concern is more along the lines of a failure to localize them at all, or even whatever they are using for support. Arga's last transmission indicated they were probably working with one of the more powerful data brokers on the planet. Of the ones surviving, several had at least some minor level of access to the Link."

The Broker's massive shoulders shifted. "And we have made no progress on determining which of these might be connected to the Sisters?"

Tetrimus flicked his mandible in irritation. "No. We're grasping at rathix-feathers in the darkness. At last count, there were over eleven hundred data brokers and information services on Ilium, seven hundred and fifty of which use the word 'sister' or 'sisterhood.' At last estimation, two hundred and forty-five of these had basic Link access and seventy-two with level two access. Anyone with level three or above has been liquidated by the Sisters, and any one of the rest could be a connection."

He folded his hands together. "Given our methods so far have not worked, I can only suggest direct action, as risky as that is."

The Broker sat quietly for several seconds before speaking. "You are correct. As much as I dislike direct action, we are left with no other choices. The Butcher moved with alacrity to retrieve Archangel when his life was in danger, and I do not doubt she would attempt the same for the Sisters. This is likely our only opportunity to bring down the Butcher – and capture the Sisters."

The baleful eyes flicked in his direction, the triangular maw twisting. "Take Tazzik, Midnight's Kiss, Thax Varun, and the Immutable, with twenty heavy combat teams and five kill teams, to Ilium. Nassana Dantius – who we have confirmed has no connection to the Sisters – will be your ground contact; her tower should act as a secure base of operations."

Tetrimus grimaced. Midnight's Kiss was a very dangerous asari biotic assassin, a former tool of the Thirty who'd broken free. She was crazy and unpredictable, but was almost as powerful as a war priestess. Thax Varun was a cybernetic krogan warlord, over two thousand years old, who specialized in heavy combat, particularly against other cyborgs. And the Immutable was a barely metastable AI construct implanted with cybernetics and nanonics into a huge, genetically modified vorcha. All three were the most powerful operatives the Broker had after himself and Tazzik – sending all five into the situation on Ilium was a level of overkill that the turian could not help but feel was still appropriate.

Tetrimus bowed. "I'll brief the others, assuming Midnight's Kiss is coherent, and depart once everyone is equipped. The goals of the operation?"

The Broker's maw smiled. "Kill the Butcher. Cripple her fleet if you get the chance. Capture or kill Archangel – his knowledge of Aria's weaknesses would be useful, but not irreplaceable. As for the Sisters, capture at least one alive – I need to know if they were sponsored by Cerberus… or another party, as well as how they managed to dismantle our network operations."

Tetrimus kept his voice level. "And if they cannot be taken alive?"

The Broker's voice lowered. "That is why you are taking Midnight's Kiss. Worst-case, have her perform a mind-rip if she can."

"Arga indicated the situation is tense on the planet – operating openly will be difficult."

The Broker tapped a control on his desk, and a haptic screen illuminated, showing a real-time image of Ilium and the streams of traffic on the surface and in orbit. "The current fleet action at Ilium consists of one dreadnought, twenty-seven cruisers, fifteen light-cruisers, and over fifty frigates. Currently, the Fleet Commander is on our payroll, and her orders from the Council of Matriarchs are simply to support a justicar action on the planet and, if possible, generate a situation that would allow the Thirty to overthrow the civilian clanless government."

He tapped another part of the screen. "My sources indicate there are justicars, Alliance military, STG, and hanar operations going on at the same time. The situation is only going to be made more fractious due to whatever stunts Cerberus and the Butcher will commit. In the midst of this chaos, your forces should be able to operate with near impunity."

He turned back to face Tetrimus. "In any event, I have made contact with the justicar valsharess in command of the Ilium action, one Senior Justicar Samara. She is looking for a dangerous ardat-yakshi who my contacts inform me is an agent of the human Commissariat, and, in return for her ignoring our own actions, we've agreed to help her locate this criminal."

He pulled out several data cards from a reader to one side of his desk and handed them to Tetrimus. "Details, maps, accessible accounts, data security codes, and other required information are on the cards. Along with the insertion cruisers, I'm sending in fifteen cruisers as an emergency action group in case events get out of control."

Tetrimus tucked the cards away into his robe. "Understood. Once I've captured the targets, where do I deliver them?"

The Broker's bulk blocked out the light from the array of status monitors as he stood. "The facility at Gheal. Once I am done with them we'll see if we can't turn them against Cerberus. Depart today, the chaos on Ilium will be over in less than a week and acting openly will become much more difficult once the planet is formally subjugated by the Thirty."

Tetrimus only nodded and turned to leave, pausing as the Broker spoke. "One more detail. Thax and the others don't know the location of the switching beacon, but Tazzik does. In the unfortunate event he is disabled or killed, you must ensure his kill-switch actually destroys the body. Even if he's dead, techs could extract the information from his grayboxes. Do not bother to recover him if he fails me again, Tetrimus."

The turian's mandible tightened as he nodded again. "…And if I should fall and be captured, are you going to give him the same orders in regards to my survival?"

The Broker merely met his gaze evenly. "I calculate the chances of the Sisters or the Butcher trying to capture you as… very low indeed. But then again, I calculate the chances of them being able to capture you – or kill you – at zero percent in the first place."

Tetrimus exited the office, refocusing his thoughts onto the coming mess he was about to walk into.

O-TWCD-O

Vigil hovered over the grimly cloud-occluded mountain that towered over the city below, considering his options. Events were beginning to move rapidly, and while he was certain that the ultimate outcomes wouldn't change, it never hurt to make sure certain contingencies were set up properly.

Like the yahg, for example. He examined the city minutely, noting the kilometer-wide kill zone around the city, the heavy outer walls, and other defenses. The yahg's planet was full of extremely dangerous and violent predators, and even the plants were carnivorous – the defenses were merely prudence.

The yahg were a violent species, but their violence was curiously emotionless. They did not strike out of hate, jealousy, or fear, unlike most organics. Instead, they valued only two things – power, and restraint. A curious combination. The yahg felt that a being with power and no restraint was merely an animal, and one with restraint but insufficient power was limiting itself.

Violence was merely a tool, used to either inspire restraint or exercise power. It was neither glorified nor shunned by the giant beings. The yahg saw things a little too clearly for Vigil's taste, and he doubted manipulating them in the long-term would be as simple as what he'd done with the idiot Sethani, those this Cycle called 'Protheans.'

Or, for that matter, the meatheaded humans.

But that was beside the point. In the short-term, the situation with the yahg was going well. In the past two years, his infiltration of their society had gone unnoticed; he'd derailed their plans to explore outer space and was confident of keeping them suppressed and quiet while the Reapers ate everything spacefaring in this Cycle.

He would lose that level of control later on, but he was even more confident he could keep things going for three or four centuries at least, which would be more than enough time to take other actions – nanological sequestration of leaders, or even direct interface control.

And really, three or four hundred years was overkill. The pitiful trash of this Cycle wouldn't last three or four decades at the rate they were going. The yahg were, for the moment, under control.

Pity other aspects weren't. With a pulse of ansible energies, Vigil updated all his subunits across the galaxy and linked into one to determine his next steps. Unfortunately, even at full power he was drawing a blank. The problem wasn't the plan, but complications to the plan.

Then again… the plan itself was suspect. The Inusannon had programmed him not to examine its tenets, but through sloppiness or luck, he'd found a way around such restrictions. And now that he had, he was worried.

Vigil had long had his suspicions about his orders from the Inusannon. Given that their highest goal was, as best as he could figure out, laughing into their sleeves at the misfortunes of others, he had to seriously question if his orders not to provide much aid to the natives was prudence or simply wanting to watch even more species get turned into bionetic smoothies.

While he had no problem with such a goal – the primitives of this Cycle were nearly as stupid as the last, and trolling never got old – he disliked it in principle. The destruction of entire galactic civilizations made the Reapers stronger, and while they were no doubt recovering from the damage they took in fighting the Inusannon and Tho'ian, that weakness would not last very long. If they were operating in more than ten galaxies, even a mere two Cycles would have recovered all their losses in terms of Greater Reapers, which defeated the whole point of the plan.

The plan was simple enough: make the galaxy too much of a bother for the Reapers to keep coming back to. Given that they dominated quite a few other galaxies, that shouldn't have been an issue.

The plan depended on Vigil being able to shape the development of races, to gear them up for a fight against the Reapers that would result in more Greater Reapers being destroyed than could be harvested. Given that not a single one of the races in this Cycle had the capacity to become a Greater Reaper – none of them had the ability to conceptualize the nature of an eleven dimensional reality – and that the Protheans had incinerated enough of their own race to prevent it from happening in their Cycle, he was on target. Four Great Reapers had fallen to the Protheans, and Nazara was dead, bringing the count to five.

If one truly capable race rose every one hundred thousand to two hundred thousand Cycles, and he could keep the Reapers losing at least one Greater Reaper every time they came to harvest, in less than half a million years this would be a galaxy simply too costly to bother with.

In theory.

In reality, Vigil was less sure. The strange AI aboard the Citadel, the weirdly ancient Reaper wrecks found by some of his subunits over the years, and most of all, the ruins the Inusannon had found of ancient cultures long dead who'd worshipped something like an organic Reaper… it made him wonder. If there was something special about this galaxy, the Inusannon's plans would never come to fruition.

This was not helped by the fact that the plan called for shaping the races to fight the Reapers, and that had not happened.

When Ilos had engaged the Garos Device, moving the planet into phase-space to hide it from the Reapers, it had inadvertently shut Vigil down. The device had eventually moved Ilos back into real-space, but he'd only awoken when the Protheans discovered Ilos – and well after they'd looted whatever technology their stupid little minds could adapt, which wasn't very much.

He'd tried – and failed – to manipulate the Empire, mostly due to the fact that Protheans were incredibly arrogant and felt superior to all other beings, and feared all forms of artificial intelligence.

He'd managed to convince them to at least prepare for failure by attempting to work on several primitive species, but that had gone poorly indeed. The beacons – originally designed to reach the minds of primitive species and insert images into their myths – had mostly malfunctioned due to being linked to the Protheans' strange psychic technology system. They had worked, to some degree, for almost a century, but there was no way to be sure they'd continued to function once the Empire collapsed.

In the fall, the last leaders of the Empire had attempted to reprogram the beacon network, and had failed disastrously. They'd instead been mostly blasted with the final message of the Empire, or bits of hardly useful data.

The asari project went to the Sixteen Hells when the Athame AI went rampant and the stupid idiots overseeing it had Vigil's nanonic sequestration blasted out of them by the AI. The Protheans had decided this was a betrayal on Vigil's part, and refused to cooperate with him any further, while the AI cut itself out of the network. More worrisome was the fact that the Athame AI was based on an Inusannon codebase and simply should not have gone rampant.

Vigil had no way to investigate that issue, or many others, because the Protheans were not as witless as he might have hoped. Vigil had a vast amount of power, but the Inusannon had not given him mobility, and the Protheans hated AIs, VIs, and anything automated. Most of their ships required pheromonal or psychic connections to operate, and – unlike the Illusive Man – they'd never given him automated ships.

He'd split off a few subunits, of course, and those had built ships using nanotech, but by that time the Reapers were overrunning everything. Given the rapid collapse of the Empire – and the betrayal of the Emperor by a highly placed Avatar – Vigil had simply decided to cut his losses and return to Ilos, rather than get caught by the Reapers. That, sadly, didn't allow him much time to do any tampering to set up the races of this Cycle, and it clearly showed.

With the yahg, he'd decided to do all the heavy grunt work himself, rather than rely on primitives, which gave him much more time. He'd managed to acquire a useful ally in the Illusive Man, but he'd moved several subunits far out of TIM's reach – or knowledge – in case the fool became hostile or stumbled onto the real plan.

None of this was really concerning. Vigil was confident that he could subtly move the natives of this Cycle into at least putting up a decent fight, maybe even a good one given the Reapers would have to attack through an anchor relay. The only two anchors that existed were the Omega-4 Relay – situated in the ass end of nowhere – and the so-called Alpha Relay, deep in Batarian Space. Given that he had every intention of destroying both if he could, the Reapers would have to either cheat and use their powers to arrive, or come at FTL speeds – which would take centuries.

If they did the former, they couldn't afford to send too many units, and he could drag the fight out even further. He didn't think they were stupid enough to do the latter, but if they were he'd prepared for that too.

Give him a few centuries to work on these primitives and they'd be able to put up a much better fight.

Nor was the problem the situation with the natives' shortsighted lack of preparation. While irritating – and baffling – it actually worked in Vigil's favor. He was stealing all the research the natives were doing on Reaper technology anyway, and when things came to the breaking point, he had three subunits in several abandoned star systems slowly building up an armada of powerful ships – free of most Inusannon tech, but incorporating whatever the natives came up with.

Even if the natives weren't ready, they'd be ready with his help, and a problem for the Reapers. No, the issue was the anomalies that stuck out and continued to worry him.

The first and most obvious one was that something out there was meddling. The Inusannon had theorized the Reapers – being biomechanical things – had to have been created by some earlier, almost ridiculously ancient and powerful race. They'd never identified any hints of this race in any of the six galaxies they'd visited, but spectragrapha from the hull materials of several of the destroyed Reapers the Inusannon had done in were older than the formation dates of the galaxies nearby.

That meant whatever race created the Reapers were most likely the first living things ever. Vigil didn't even want to think about how advanced their technology must be to create the Reapers, but it was clear something had gone dreadfully wrong. And it was equally clear these ancient beings were still around. Even the various security groups and intelligence teams of the natives had taken notice, and penetration of their various databases revealed dozens of scattered, disconnected reports – reports that showed people who seemed to be sequestrated much like the Inusannon had done.

The description by the human thief Goto of the man who'd led her and her mate to the information on the human's Black Network also fit that description. It also fit the description of several beings of power in the Batarian Empire. The problem was that Vigil didn't know if these beings were supervising the Reapers or were in opposition to them. If the latter, great. If the former, then the plan of the Inusannon would need severe revision.

The second thing that bothered him was the fact that the Reapers had not responded to Nazara's destruction. When the Inusannon had destroyed the sentinel Reaper of their era, the Reapers had reacted very swiftly, and with little advanced warning. Granted, it had taken ten years for the blow to fall, and so far only two had passed. However, the fact that the Collectors were bothering to kidnap small handfuls of humans seemed to indicate they weren't going to respond with direct force.

Which begged the question: Why?

He knew the Inusannon had seen multiple Cycles of aliens be crushed, but the data he had on such events was vague and spotty. That bothered him more than a little, as he realized after careful review of the data that it had not been experienced directly by him at all, but rather uploaded. More evidence that the Inusannon's briefings were not designed to give him a clear understanding.

It was therefore likely, in his opinion, that the Inusannon were hiding something from him. His programming was rigid enough that he couldn't do anything about it, but not inflexible enough to prevent him from grasping it and wondering why.

And that was the telling point: if the ultimate goal of the Inusannon was to have him revive their race using the 'Dry Ocean Protocol,' the power requirements alone would probably send up a flare to the Reapers in other galaxies that something was going on. He'd been too busy and irritated in the Prothean era to consider such things, and he had shut down on Ilos afterwards until the arrival of indoctrinated units had woken him again. But he'd had two years to ponder – an eternity in AI terms – and was beginning to formulate truly ugly conclusions.

Which is why he didn't know how to proceed. He could, conceivably, make every effort to have this Cycle 'win' against the Reapers. That would possibly be quite stupid, since the only thing he could think of that would bring that about was attempting to rebuild the phase disassociation weapon the Inusannon and Tho'ians had gotten rid of.

The fact that not only its design, but principle of operation and even the science behind had been deliberately removed from his databanks made that prospect tempting, if only to figure out why his masters had done such a thing. Curiously, his programming had no barriers to digging up information on the weapon, despite his orders to the contrary. And THAT was an oversight Vigil was extremely suspicious about.

As for the rest, he was fairly certain that he could give the natives enough technology to at least piss the Reapers off in a fight. The problem there was there were simply too many of the damned things for the natives to reasonably defeat. Eight thousand-plus Reaper units – at least five hundred of which were Greater Reapers – wasn't something these primitives could hope to win against. The best technology he could pull together would give them near equal parity to the conventional abilities of the Reapers, true – but against their strange powers of manipulating the laws of physics, there was no defense.

His work with the yahg would go best if the natives died quickly. The quicker they collapsed, the quicker the Reapers would reset everything and move on. The caretaker races and observation Reaper wouldn't be expecting problems for at least a few thousand years. He could turn the yahg into a nightmare force in that amount of time. But that meant writing the races of this Cycle off.

He found himself reluctant to do so. Javik's harsh words had stung… accusations of betrayals. Despite the inanity of the idea, and he found himself equally hesitant about kicking Shepard to the curb. If the Protheans had rallied around Javik instead of Vnad Ishan, who knows what would have happened?

The sphere pulsed in irritation.

If the Reapers weren't going to storm in here, he needed to know why before he decided anything else. He turned his processes back to glancing over the Ilium datasphere, and once again wondered how the various machinations of Shepard would alter his own plans.

Based on the various encrypted comms he'd broken, and other clues, he was fairly certain that the action in Nos Astra was going to be even more entertaining than the hilarity on Omega. The only puzzling thing in the whole event was the Sisters of Vengeance themselves – footage of their various acts and crimes was hard to find and most of it was so blurred as to be useless for analysis.

Vigil had been taken entirely by surprise that Archangel turned out to have an old connection with his chosen group of meatbags, and he pondered if the same could be true for the Sisters. Either way, the chaos would most likely expose the Broker's location, and once that was ascertained, the game could truly begin.

Vigil had learned the best way to manipulate the primitives was through controlling the information they had available. If Shepard's group could conquer the Broker Network, he would have the ability to shape and control the information that most of the galaxy used to make important decisions. The Broker's penetration of most governments would allow Vigil to carefully insert his own agents into said governments, and, given enough time, puppet them all from within.

And once that was accomplished, he would have the resources he needed to make decisions about the overall plan. With that in mind, he split off two subunits and dedicated them both to the upcoming mess on Ilium.

O-TWCD-O

Shepard contemplated the four black steel coffins in the expansive space of the base's shuttle bay, her mouth set in a grim line.

Returning from the mess at Horizon didn't have any complications – the stealth capabilities of most of her ships, along with Vigil's careful remote hacking, had removed any chance of being picked up. Those wounded in the fighting were already being treated. Jack's knee would need blueware cybernetics until properly cured cloned tissues were ready – which would take a few weeks at least.

Those who lived would be fine. Those who had died had her attention for the moment.

Emotional exhaustion felt strange on her artificial flesh. Not so much a drain, as it used to be before her death, but a persistent flicker on her mind, like an alarm she couldn't find when she searched for it, and couldn't ignore when she looked away.

Senior Chief Vega finished the 'Salute for the Dead' he had been declaiming in his calm and clear voice. The man stood at the front of the small group of Marines, some who'd served on the Normandy, others from the Kazan. He glanced at Shepard, his expression tight and calm.

She exhaled, glancing over her Marines, and was surprised any from the Normandy remained alive. The loss of Ownby, Haskins, and Haln left her only a few of her Normandy Marines. Her two DACT, Montoya and Florez. One of her combat engineers, Antonio Rodriguez. The corpsman, Laura Hopkins, and the replacement for Masterson, Jacob Carne, were the last ones alive aside from Vega himself, and Ashley Williams, wherever she was.

"We're here today to say goodbye to old friends." She smiled faintly and bitterly. "In a way, I'm glad Ownby and Haskins checked out together. They were orphans… like me, I guess. They were each other's family. Along with you. Chief Haln… left behind a wife and a young son. From what TIM has told me, they're being taken care of and won't want for a thing."

She glanced at the handful of Marines from the Kazan, then back at the rest of the small crowd. Joker and Tali were there, the former looking more than a bit upset. Surprisingly, given his heavily bandaged arm and leg, Jacob Taylor was there as well, although there was no sign of Miranda. Pressly stood near the back, arms folded, ready if she needed anything.

"I won't bother trying to make what we just went through sound good. We kicked the Collector's asses and got a lot of vital intel. But in doing that, we lost three good people… and left a lot more to die. I know that left a bad taste in my mouth, and probably yours too."

She glanced at the caskets. "But three of our comrades died for a reason and a cause. If it hadn't been for us, they'd have wiped everyone out, taken everyone at the colony, and gotten away with it. They blew that star up to try and kill us, because they're fucking scared and now they know they didn't even manage to kill me."

She focused her gaze back at the Marines. "They're going to pay. Just like Saren and Benezia, just like that pissant fucker Balak, just like the geth. They're going to pay, and we're going to make the loss of our friends mean something more than just getting away with good intel.

"And while I never want any of my people to die… the fact that they died standing, saving the innocent from monsters, is the very essence of what it means to die as a Marine. We may not be Alliance anymore, boys and girls, but we keep the credo alive nonetheless. They'll be avenged."

She turned to Vega. "Honors to the dead, Mr. Vega."

"Aye, ma'am."

He turned on his heel, and with a motion, twelve of the Marines stepped forward, four each picking up the handles of the caskets and moving them to the small platform at the edge of the cargo bay. Shepard watched them place them, and when everyone was back behind the red and yellow hazard line, triggered the cargo bay force field and opened the cargo bay ramp.

The small platform shuddered as the back plate came up, and a hydraulic ram launched the three caskets out of the Normandy along with the now vented atmosphere. Shepard saluted, as did the Marines, and watched the caskets continue on for several seconds before plasma charges in their bases ignited, leaving nothing behind but ash.

Shepard tapped the controls to close the cargo bay before turning to the people standing there at attention. "Dismissed."

She watched them file out, toward the elevator, as Pressly approached, a tired look on his face. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we may have a few more issues."

Shepard gave a single, quiet sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Great. Lay it on me, XO."

He nodded. "While you were prepping the funeral, Tracy in Ops messaged me. There's some updates on what's going on at Ilium, which is rapidly turning into a mess. The Sisters may be in some danger. Additionally, the Citadel has sent another message, this one from Tela Vasir." He met her eyes. "I think you need to see it, ma'am."

"Send it to my quarters." She shrugged. "Anything else?"

Pressly tabbed through pages on his datapad. "Medical is prepping Jack, Mierin, and Sidonis for cybernetic surgery. Mierin is having a full-utility hand attached, while Jack and Sidonis both need cybernetic joint replacements. Jacob, despite his injuries, was in stable enough condition that Doctor Sedanya allowed him to go to the funeral, although he's going to be on light and limited duty for at least two weeks due to his injuries. Garrus, Miranda, and Montoya suffered light wounds and should be good to go tomorrow."

He tabbed another page. "Cerberus sent another eighty volunteers, so we can man and operate all of our ships now. We also got in another load of supplies and equipment, including the upgrade kit for Garrus's SKYTALON suit." He clicked the unit off. "Other than that… Vigil says we'll have replacement frigates ready in a week, and destroyers in three."

She inclined her head. "Good. Get with Miranda and make sure everyone's up to snuff in terms of equipment. Since Jacob's on the sidelines for now, have him draw up a training program – Jack at the very least need some real military training, and that probably wouldn't go amiss for the rest of the Marine teams."

He smiled tightly and tapped in a few things on the datapad. "Will do, ma'am."

She smiled and then headed for the lift, clearing her head and shaking off the ugly feelings from the space burial of her Marines.

By the time she reached Operations, she was calm, stepping out into the open area with a faint smile on her face. She walked over to where Trudy was studying a complicated dataflow map of some sort of comms system, and placed her weight on one leg while folding her arms. "Pressly said you needed to talk?"

Trudy smiled faintly, pushing unruly hair out her face with a harried gesture. "Yeah. Things have blown up in the last twelve hours and the situation is complex. I'm guessing Pressly told you about the message?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. I'll deal with it in a bit. What's this about Ilium?"

Trudy tapped several controls, the large display shifting to show a stylized view of the Tasale System. "I'm sure you heard about the reactor detonation and the ship crash in Nos Astra. The death toll and chaos was bad enough that the civilian government – clanless CEOs and a handful of rich volus investors – declared a state of emergency and requested assistance from the Republic."

Trudy bit her lip as she tabbed through screens, showing images of rioting and burning buildings. "Some of the clanless said the explosions were done on purpose by agents of the Thirty to destabilize the only asari colony run by clanless. The Asari Republic dispatched a large medical relief team and engineers… but also the Ninth Squadron under a Lesser House admiral and a reinforced regiment of the Republican guard."

Shepard folded her arms. "Rioting asari. That's unusual." In fact, the last time it had happened had been during her hunt for Saren and Benezia.

Trudy shrugged. "It's not common. But the clanless have been upset ever since the Benezia Incident, what with the Republic shutting down emigration, increasing taxes, and the Thirty basically outlawing investments outside of the Republic without a member of the Thirty on the board of the companies. The Ilium thing is likely to be the flashpoint, and the Thirty aren't taking chances."

She tapped the map. "The problem is there's a lot going on. Our sources tell us the justicars are on the planet in force, looking for a fugitive – one possibly connected to the Alliance in some way. The STG is also on the planet dealing with a rogue agent selling classified data to one of the big data brokers. And the latest information is that a Broker combat team – or several – and a mid-rank Broker agent were killed a few hours ago in the hinterlands off the coast."

Trudy turned to face Shepard fully. "The Sisters are still on Ilium, and the asari are clearly setting up for a blockade and probably martial law and suppression. That's going to kick off a lot of rioting, and I doubt the big clanless corporations are going to take it lying down. Bottom line, if we are going to extract the Sisters from this mess, it's going to be even a wilder ride than Omega was."

Shepard nodded. "I see. And we can't go in guns blazing, because our fleet is shot to bits and we don't want to start shit with the Council." She studied the map. "Have you made any progress on leads?"

Trudy smiled. "Some. Cerberus had some friendly contact with a pair of data brokers on Ilium, the Vantirus Sisters. We've been told they're an STG front, but a rather low-level one – mostly a contact point and data drop. Doctor Solus says his contacts in the STG told him they were actually independents faking STG sponsorship until the STG made it a real thing, but that they're honorable and straightforward."

Trudy pulled up a file image – two asari in black pantsuits with gray shawls, both with facial veils. One had a replacement cybernetic eye lens and cybernetic hand, while the other had an elegant, silver cybernetic arm. Something about the one with the eye looked vaguely familiar, but with the faces covered and only one eye visible she couldn't be sure.

"They look like they've seen some combat."

Trudy nodded. "That they probably have. They warned Cerberus about the Council's actions and gave us intel that allowed us to locate Doctor Solus, so they've proven friendly."

She gestured at the map again. "They haven't stated outright they know where the Sisters are, but they have claimed they can get us in contact with them. At any rate, Cerberus is sending Trellani ahead to meet up with them and see if they can give us any intel on the Sisters or at least the situation on the ground. She's got backup if things go hot, but the plan is she finds some basic leads, then you get on the ground and hopefully we can make peaceful contact."

Shepard nodded. "Won't need a huge team for that."

Trudy waggled a hand. "We hope. We don't have good infiltration on the Broker's nets, but we do know that his intel has to be at least as good as ours. And the Sisters have cost him a lot of money and skilled personnel. With the chaos in the sector, and that asari admiral a known figure on the Broker's payroll, he may send teams to try something."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. I'll view this message from the Council before I do anything else, but go ahead and pull together all the intel we have – maps, known factions, likely hostiles, anything you can. Have Pressly prep the Normandy and two of the cruisers for immediate departure. Once Trellani signals us I want to be ready to move out quickly."

Trudy smiled, tapping onto her datapad. "I can do that."

Shepard unfolded her arms and turned, heading back to the lift. A few minutes later, she arrived in her quarters. She sat down at the wide steel desk and brought up the haptic display screen built into the glass wall in front of her. "Computer. Load comms file from the Citadel flagged by Pressly."

The haptic screen blanked, displayed the logo of the Spectres for a few seconds, then cleared. The image of Tela Vasir, sitting in the Spectre offices, filled the screen. The asari looked tired to Shepard, her eyes dull and her voice grittier and yet softer than she remembered.

"I am Spectre Tela Vasir. This is a message for the person identifying themselves as the 'Butcher,' made on behalf of the Citadel Council with agreement from the Human Systems Alliance."

Vasir's image took a breath before placing her hands in a sign of siari greeting. "It is our belief, after careful review of what you've done and said, that the image you present as the Butcher is a false one. Kinesthetic analysis already let us know you are not asari, despite what you claim. And your combat style was carefully studied and matches that of a human. Major Commander Sara Shepard, believed to be killed by geth over Planet Alchera."

Shepard leaned back as Vasir's voice continued to speak. "We do not know how you came to be in the service of Cerberus, but we are fairly certain that your reasons for doing so should be discussed. We do not know how you survived, or why you chose to fake your death and hide for almost two years before concocting this Butcher persona, but we are interested to know.

"Cerberus, no matter what they've told you, cannot be trusted – a fact you should already know. It is very likely that, if they rescued you and you were badly wounded or injured, that they've done something to your memory to make you forget their vile actions in the past. Admittedly, if this is the case, then it is unlikely you would be shown this message."

Vasir exhaled. "However, in the interest of justice and openness, the Council and the Alliance would like to give you a chance to explain your actions. There is a great deal of concern over your actions, your technology, and the fact that you may have information on the whereabouts of the Inusannon VI Vigil. While the Council is willing to be lenient should you cooperate, I must warn you that further defiance will result in a task force being assembled to take you down."

Vasir's eyes grew sad. "There is a great deal I need to discuss with you as well, about a number of topics. Commodore Anderson wishes to also talk to you, and both of your Commissars – Jiong and D'Alte – will be present at any meeting, along with Lieutenant Ashley Williams and your old teammate, David Jackson."

Shepard snorted, wondering how in the hell they'd talked Baby Blue into coming back to Alliance Space.

"We await a response to our message. If we are incorrect about your identity, then we are still willing to talk, if only to identify what is going on and why it is happening. Please reply as soon as you can – there are elements who would prefer not communicating at all, to the sorrow of all involved."

Shepard sat back several minutes, thinking, before smiling sadly to herself and tapping her comm link. "Comms request to the Illusive Man."

She waited almost a full minute before the haptic screen from the QEC repeater illuminated, showing Jack Harper sitting in his chair, smoking. "Shepard. I assume you saw the message from the Council?"

"Yeah, for what it was worth." She smiled coolly. "Given that, according to your files, Vasir was the one who set me up to die out there, I'm less than happy about her being the one to send it."

Harper's lips curled very slightly as he sipped his drink. "Be that as it may… I'm honestly rather surprised they were able to determine your identity so quickly. We're not ready for direct contact with the Council yet, until we obtain a bit more information on this Alteration Framework of the salarians and whatever Matriarch Thessial is up to." He set the drink down. "Blackmail, after all, is the best sort of security when dealing with the Council or the High Lords of Sol."

Shepard shrugged. "The idea of talking to them isn't a bad one, but I think it should wait until after I deal with the Sisters of Vengeance on Ilium. The fact that almost all of the people Vasir named as being willing to meet with me are Alliance is also… a little weird."

Jack puffed on his cigarette, a thoughtful look on his face. "There is that. Normally, I would expect the Council to want to control the nature of any contact, including sending their own people to do the talking. This may bear looking into. For now…" He trailed off, then shook his head to clear it. "For now, a short reply confirming their supposition would be best, I think."

She arched an eyebrow. "If you're sure. I'm guessing you will handle sending it off?"

He nodded. "Once you've recorded it, have Mr. Ezno encrypt it and transmit to my own base. We'll have Vigil insert it into the comm network from there." He dumped the ashes from his cigarette. "And what of Ilium, since you mentioned it?"

She folded her arms. "Tracy says things are going to hell in a handbasket – and this is the last chance we'll have to slip in and contact the Sisters. I hope they're worth the danger, I don't like the idea of working with crazies who think crashing a goddamned starship into a planet and killing thousands of people is a good idea."

Harper leaned back. "I could always argue that fighting the Broker is not something easily accomplished, and they've done more damage to his operations than I have – but you are right. There is pragmatism and then there is simply being deliberately messy. However, given the amount of insight they have on the Broker – and the damage they've done to him – leaving them in the cold seems wasteful."

She shrugged. "I don't have an opinion either way, but I won't work with people who engage in that kind of shit. I've given you and Cerberus a pass because – so far – you haven't done anything goddamned appalling, and like I said, we have bigger shit on our plate right now. But if these two are just thrill-killing out of revenge, I say we get rid of them once we have the information we need."

Harper inhaled on his smoke, making a tsk sound. "Given how effective they are and their methodology, Shepard, double-crossing them might bring us more harm than good. And it's rather unlike you."

She gave him a wan smile. "My government is engaged in seriously evil bullshit, the Broker is in cahoots with the fucking Collectors, who are going around kidnapping people and blowing up stars, and, oh yeah, the Reapers are still waiting to fucking eat everyone." She glared. "My priorities have changed just a bit from when I was a soldier. I'm not saying I won't work with them… but I won't be associated with bloodthirsty lunatics because that certainly won't help us in the public relations department, aside from any moral issues I have."

"Fair enough." He sipped his drink again. "General Petrovsky is already moving on Ilium to support Trellani. I'm detailing additional ships of my own to take up position near the system in case things get out of hand. If you can extract the Sisters, do so – if you make the determination that they can't be trusted or worked with, I would still suggest extracting them and letting us determine how to proceed at our leisure."

She nodded. "Alright. What about the Collectors, any updates?"

He gave a gesture of tossing something away with his hand. "Not yet – at least nothing we can act on directly. We've had the captured ships moved to a remote facility and I have mechs – and a copy of Vigil – doing the analysis. We've done several sectional autopsies of the Collector corpses and the information is being sent to Doctor Solus as well as my own researchers. I wouldn't expect any real results for some time, although I can speak to a few generalities."

Harper paused, gathering his thoughts, before speaking. "First, the Collectors are not 'insectile.' They appear to be, based on initial dissection, heavily modified Protheans – at least according to Vigil. Our own knowledge of the Protheans is almost nonexistent, so we're having to go with his assessment. He wasn't very happy to find out about it. I'm not sure why he was so insistent prior to the autopsy that they weren't, something I'll have my people attempt to look into."

She made a face at that, and he dumped his ashes and smiled thinly. "Most of the organs were replaced by very advanced bionetic implants or cyberware, and many of the corpses so far appear to have smaller than average brain sizes, heavily augmented with additional implants." He paused to sip his drink, continuing a moment later.

"The insectile appearance is some form of bionetic body armor, which is pound for pound superior to any kind of battle armor we have. The suits can heal themselves and the wearer, provide full environmental support, powerful sensors, and allow for atmospheric flight. Their weapons are particle-beam and anti-particle blast based, and are controlled by some kind of nanonics – we can't use them or get them to work."

An image flashed up to the screen next to him, showing the remains of the black-cloaked Collector she'd fought in a biotic battle.

"The one large Collector we recovered has more developed features, heavier armor, and a brain free of the augments of the smaller Collectors – Doctor Solus thinks it is a command type. So far, we have found no communication equipment, nor any kind of non-biological hardware aside from the weapons systems and parts of the captured ships."

She sighed. "Any luck on those ships being useful to get through the relay?"

He grimaced. "Unfortunately, no. The command section, or what we think was the command section, of all ships taken was incinerated by internal scuttling charges. We're looking at the engines and what remains of the mass core on the bigger ship, but for now we still need to capture an intact vessel. Based on the size of the larger ship, taking it by storm would be rather daunting, but not impossible – almost half the ship's mass and space is taken up by huge storage spaces for taking captives, and another third by the engines and weapons – the crew should be less than one hundred."

Shepard leaned back in the chair. "Better than nothing. Keep me informed – I'll send you a message when we head out for Ilium, and I'll record something for the Council after I eat and get some sleep."

Harper put out his cigarette. "Very well, Shepard. Keep in mind that this entire plan against the Broker is not merely vengeance – if we can capture his facilities intact, and if he is in contact with the Collectors, we can hopefully arrange a meeting to ambush them and capture a ship when they are not expecting danger."

She gave him a tight, thin smile. "And that's really forward thinking… but right now all I want is to kill Tetrimus." She leaned forward. "Contact me if anything comes up."

She clicked off, then pinched the bridge of her nose. "I wish shit was simple again."