[ Chapter 36: Their Sordid Affair ]
After Zuria debriefed Liselle and provided her with fresh civilian clothes to replace the garish emblems of the Eclipse, the maiden was directed to remain in Afterlife where she could cool down from her mission in the company of her fellow mercenaries and patrons of shared rulership preference. In the meantime, while they awaited Aria's arrival, Zuria would send someone to retrieve her belongings from the Eclipse outpost and have them delivered to her promptly. Restless, Liselle found Zuria's advisement to linger difficult to obey. After spending some time swiveling anxiously in a bar stool with a half-full drink in hand, watching the new bartender chat up a dancer who was not Anthya, Liselle slipped away from the nightclub, climbed into a cab, and took a trip to Doctor Havlon's infirmary.
There she visited Anthya, whose vertebral swelling had receded enough to free her from the sterile white prison of her mattress, and prescribed both lighter medication and a significantly thinner and less cumbersome brace to wear about her neck for a few more weeks. She was overjoyed to see Liselle stepping into her room, catching her reading one of the books she'd sent her, and left her spot lounging on the hospital bed to greet her with a fond embrace. Although Liselle spoke nothing of the harrowing events that had recently transpired—Drialus Lorhan, the geth, and Daus—she did report that affairs for Aria's syndicate were trending positively, that they were steadily accumulating victories despite encountering numerous setbacks and complications, for their wins always, always exceeded their losses in magnitude.
For a time they happily talked, and Liselle tried her very best to not think of Telycialux Daus. Whenever she did it brought bitter, hurt, angry tears to her eyes, but Anthya's company contained them and salved her despair, at least for the hour.
Anthya shared with her that she would not be returning to work for at least two months, but she would be able to leave the infirmary to work a simple greeter's job for the rest of her recovery period. There she would rejoin the company of her coworkers, the patrons she'd befriended, and Aria, who'd been dreadfully concerned for her health over all this time. The promise of seeing them again very soon fueled her ample optimism.
Setting aside the modicum of discomfort that assailed her upon pondering Anthya's relationship with Aria, Liselle advised her to not let their boss do anything that might aggravate Anthya's condition while her injury was still vulnerable to new disturbances. Anthya merely smiled at the girl's concern and told her not to worry at all. Aria had never done anything to endanger her before, she said. Aria could be demanding and self-serving, but she was not inconsiderate of those she cared for. For them she reserved a gentle hand, and whenever needed, even gentler words. Aria had already previously expressed to her, when they first came to see her on the day she was hospitalized, that all she desired to see Anthya thinking about was her own health, and that she didn't need to worry about Aria at all while she was away. The Queen promised that she would don responsibility and take care of everything. She'd take care of everything and protect her, without fail.
Liselle only returned to Afterlife when she received word of Aria's arrival from her nondescript business trip. Zuria had updated her, saying that Aria wanted to see her immediately. Finding herself in no position to keep her waiting, Liselle said goodbye to Anthya and dutifully obeyed.
She was led to the private meeting lounge, isolated from both the common eavesdroppers and the blaring noise ricocheting endlessly about the main floor, in which Aria waited as poised as confident as she appeared to her lieutenants that frequented this room. Liselle sat down with her on the comfortable red couch, gazing a bit meekly at her mother until she could discern her expression and corresponding mood. Although she'd returned from Lorhan's tower successful, there was no way to predict Aria's reaction to her excessive, and perhaps foolish, amount of displayed initiative. But Aria waited calmly, extending a lazy arm along the back of the sofa with her legs crossed, patently relaxed and unperturbed.
For the very first time Liselle had come to her in the aftermath of a mission or an unsanctioned excursion, Aria was not visibly displeased. This time she was perfectly content, reflecting the inquisitive stare of her daughter as if inviting Liselle to announce her success so she could proceed to graciously validate it. When she noticed Liselle struggling to find adequate words, however, Aria took it upon herself to open their conversation instead.
"Why are you sitting over there?" she asked, gesturing with her line of sight at the significant distance between them on the couch. While Aria occupied one corner, Liselle had huddled herself up in the other. "Come closer. I haven't seen you in a while."
Liselle scooted in, further reassured that Aria was indeed pleased with her, and settled on the next cushion over.
"This operation was... extraordinarily important to me," said Aria. "No one knew about it until it was already underway. Spare units were informed at the last possible minute while uninvolved officers, including my own administration, only knew after the appointment with Lorhan was scheduled to begin. I needed to make sure no intelligence leaked this time. I needed to carefully assemble teams and deploy them as quickly as possible. And it worked out, almost exactly as planned. So... Rasma Visiom reported that she was sending two operatives into the mission, but failed to specify who. And Zuria tells me that you made Wasea include you when you reported to her outpost. Now just how does a common operative hold a high-ranked Eclipse officer at such a disadvantage?"
The maiden blinked. "I... tricked her. Pretended to know something about her division captain stealing money from you and threatened to tell you about it—"
"You don't need to lie to me, Liselle," said Aria. "I think I know what's going on here."
Liselle uncomfortably squirmed.
"And I think I'm going to let it go." Aria closely watched Liselle, interpreting her response as confirming her growing suspicion that Wasea had been the one who led Liselle into Tuhi. "Because she's paid her dues by leading today's capture. No price can be placed on your safety, of course, but this is the closest compensation we'd ever receive from someone indebted to you and me in this manner. I couldn't feasibly hold her to any larger payment, save for the obvious. And the obvious is usually more wasteful than I prefer. But we're not here to talk about Wasea. We're here to talk about you." She paused to place a tender hand on Liselle's shoulder, easing any guilt she might have felt for what could have befallen Wasea had Aria not been feeling merciful. "You didn't do anything wrong today, Liselle. In fact, you did everything impeccably. From meeting and learning about the geth creature to the moment you stepped out of the skycar with Lorhan tied up in the back. I couldn't be more pleased at this point." She retracted her hand.
Liselle beamed at the praise she was bestowed, but soon turned crestfallen upon recalling what had been endured along the way. The traitorous Telycialux Daus, revealing to them all his true allegiance and leaving behind someone he'd once called 'friend' to presumably die at the hands of his employer. When she mentioned this poignant detail, Aria confirmed that she'd been informed by both Zuria and Captain Wasea, who'd recently managed to return to her Eclipse outpost more or less unscathed. Aria agreed that Daus was a great concern, especially when considering the mysterious errand he'd been sent on by Lorhan, but she hadn't known about the new bond that had been growing between the young turian man and her daughter, until Liselle disclosed it to her presently.
"I thought... I thought he liked me," Liselle despondently said. "We promised that we'd look out for each other the whole time. He said he'd do everything he could to make sure we won, but... he didn't even look at me when he left." She lifted a hand to wipe her left eye with her palm, unable to keep from tearing up at her recollection, nor from sniveling. "I thought he liked me."
For a moment Aria observed the pain coursing her, and incisively perceived the very personal nature of Liselle's sense of rejection as being a bit more than simple friends or acquaintances. She'd always anticipated that such a day would arrive, when her daughter first suffered the terrible sense of being insufficient for another's standards, but she hadn't believed the first time would be accompanied by circumstances as cruel as these.
"Liselle," Aria gently said to her, reaching out to wrap her fingers around her wrist. She removed her hand from her face only to replace it with her own, cradling her cheek affectionately, and guided Liselle to face her. "I don't want you to think about him anymore. Because he doesn't deserve to be dwelled on, doesn't deserve your pain. Do not let him hurt you like this, Liselle. When you cry over him it only gives him power over you, something he should never have. Resist it as much as you can." With a thumb she brushed away a tear that escaped the brimming well of Liselle's eyes and came gliding down the curve of her cheek.
At her words Liselle was suddenly plagued by a disorienting wistfulness when she realized just how much she had missed the reliability and care of her mother. She missed her old home, where Iaera and Zuria taught her the world through theory and not traumatizing application, where Liselle never hurt beyond longing. She missed her mother and wished that life could revert to their past state when everything was infinitely simpler, but it was impossible to go back now. The very moment Liselle had decided to step out of her apartment she had bartered her soul to this station, permanently. Some days she felt as though Aria was the only thing left of home, for Iaera had moved on and Zuria no longer mentored her, and she was utterly possessed by the urge to cling to her desperately like flotsam in a shipwreck.
After Liselle nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat, Aria spoke again, "Sweetheart, I'm going to take care of it. I don't want you to worry about it anymore. For now I just want you to go home and rest, and I'll give you a new assignment in a few days." She brushed her thumb against Liselle's cheek once before returning her hand to its perch on the couch's back. "Also, Liselle... I want you to start thinking about skycar models. Over the last few weeks I've been considering buying you one, and I think it would be proper payment for what you've done for our organization today. I'll buy you anything you like, but don't ask for anything terribly high-end. They attract too much unwanted attention."
"You're... you're serious?" asked Liselle.
"Of course I am. I had my first car when I was thirty. It's not dignified, for my own daughter to be this overdue."
Aria observed Liselle for several more seconds while she finished wiping her face, trying to clean away all evidence of distress. She hadn't meant to cry, especially not because of Daus. She'd known him for several weeks now, but they hadn't even the chance to become exceptionally close over that time. What had hurt most was the manner in which she'd been betrayed and discarded, with very little protest or resistance on his end. It was an assault on her self-worth, threatening to unfairly negate her triumphs.
"Remember, Liselle," Aria said to her, "you did everything right today. Don't let anyone else make you feel as though that isn't true. There's no better feeling for a parent than to be proud of their child, and my pride isn't mistaken nor misplaced. Now go find Zuria and tell her she's done for today—I can handle everything else from here. You two get something to eat."
Liselle nodded a tad sheepishly and leaned in to hug her mother, hearing her say against her head, "And don't forget that I love you," before she drew away, stood, and made for the door.
Once Liselle had departed, Aria placed a quick call to right-hand lieutenant, and gave her a concise set of orders. "Zuria, make sure the notice for Telycialux Daus has reached all ports, docks, and bays, up to Omega Control. I want him brought to me by any means necessary. Alive, preferably... but I might be inclined to overlook a little damage in this case."
She bottled her incendiary outrage and shelved it for a later, more convenient time. She would exact revenge for her daughter by seeing to it that the one who had hurt her would pay in a manner that reflected her pain tenfold. Patience was the only option at the moment, however. If Eruam Anikot had been located against tremendously bad odds, they would certainly achieve the same unlikely result with Daus. And then she would render him unable to harm Liselle ever again. Physically unable, as the ideal scenario.
Just when all had become quiet again, Aria heard a notification sound from the subdermal implant in her wrist, accompanied by a light orange glow projecting the name of an individual requesting contact. Councilor Tevos's name shone on the surface of her wrist, discreetly invading the surface of her skin with characters of pale fire that would not dissipate until she answered or dismissed it. She did the former, quickly checking her encryption level before tapping her communicator to respond in clement familiarity, "Councilor? Already feeling lonely without me?" However, in light of what troubles she'd endured lately, Aria ceased teasing her to probe the situation. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is fine, very fine. I had to activate one of my clerical VIs to handle much of the unanticipated... complications yesterday brought. And I'm not at all lonely. It's impossible to be with the VI's grating personality sounding off every few minutes while my aides dart in and out of my office on the hour. One said I shouldn't even be working after what happened yesterday."
"But you'd never say no to work. You'd be infinitely worse off if you suddenly found yourself with nothing to do." Aria smiled to herself, switching the positions of her folded legs to unconsciously convey her amusement.
"That's probably more accurate than I'm willing to admit."
"So, what I could possibly do for you at this time?" Aria idly inspected her left boot, reaching down to lightly brush at an annoyingly faint scuff above the toe.
"I just need to pass on a message. An invite, rather, to Thessia. Matriarch Medora, along with much of High Command, would like to have you at the annual Armali peace conference next week."
Aria laughed. It wasn't the low controlled laugh she usually issued when armed with a beautiful rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, but genuine and unrestrained laughter that seemed to catch in her throat before it emerged unapologetically.
"I don't think I can rightfully fault for you for laughing, but her explanation was that they want to thank you for defending me. We know that was and was not quite the case, but it's an excuse to get you onto Thessia. Attendance may very well be in your best interest. I think she has something of great importance to tell us."
"I'm going to ask the obvious question here before you say anything more. How can I know this isn't going to be a trap?"
"I don't have concrete evidence, but I can offer some convincing logic," Tevos replied. "Could you imagine how the image of the Asari Republics would suffer if violence or an assassination took place at a peace conference? We'd lose credibility and respect for our ways, and High Command would never have that. While the security of our people remains their first and paramount responsibility, our reputation comes in at a close second. If they were to ever place you in danger, it would not be at such a publicized venue."
Aria pondered. "Do you have any idea as to what she might want to tell us?"
"None, although it may be related to a predicament we found ourselves in this morning. The rest of the Council has cited a protection clause in our policies of interspecies confidence, demanding that I share with them the intelligence we've obtained about our enemy. As you'd expect, this would also expose our arrangements quite garishly. High Command seemed to have received the official notice before myself, and Medora took swift action by relieving me of responsibility and instead burdened High Command with the disclosure. She protected us, Aria. I think she's quite serious, since she inverted the attack on our collaboration by requesting that the Hierarchy share records of past military operations in or near the Terminus Systems."
An expression of great interest developed across Aria's previously impassive features. "They're onto him."
"They seem to be, yes. But how they are 'onto him' remains a mystery, since I haven't shared a single shred of information about either of our prime suspects with any of their council. If you plan to afford my opinion on the matter much consideration, it would be to attend. I think you'd feel adequately safe there. I can even instruct my personal security to guard you as well as a secondary priority."
Aria scoffed despite the offer's origin in humor. "I don't think I'll require protection. I just wanted to know if I'd be inconvenienced by any disagreeable parties."
"Inconvenienced?"
"Mm-hmm." Aria heard some shuffling on the councilor's end, as well as the very faint electronic chirping of a terminal's projected keyboard as Tevos made a series of inputs.
"So, can we expect you?" asked Tevos. "You can confirm attendance through myself or any of my associates listed on your official invitation, which I'll forward to you right now. It has the coordinates, itinerary, dress code—"
"Dress code?" Aria echoed.
"Formal, as you'd expect."
"And just what are you planning on wearing? Wouldn't want us to clash."
She heard Tevos exhaling in amusement. "I haven't decided yet. I have several assistants advising me on the matter, and I'll decide within a few days. But you shouldn't worry too much about clashing. Camera drones and reporters are likely to hound us throughout the night, so we should avoid close proximity wherever we can. Besides, I plan to be in the company of Falteus again."
Aria rolled her eyes upon being reminded of Tevos's vapid military-affiliated companion.
"I would normally suggest that you bring along a guest yourself, but, it may unnecessarily complicate things when the time comes to rendezvous with Medora."
"I can think of a few candidates who'd respect my ulterior reasons for being there," said Aria, aiming to irritate her merely for placing Falteus in a position were he would receive more of Tevos's attention than Aria. "My dancer, Anthya, is still recovering and I've forbade her from being active, but I have other choices. I have a fence on Nevos—a very respectable, glamorous, and successful individual. Each time we meet she's infallibly walking the bleeding edge of modern chic. When we were originally acquainted a few centuries ago, the first thing she ever said to me was a sour criticism of the jacket I used to wear. I just had to have her then, and I did. An event like this... she wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity of that much limelight, if I asked her to join me."
Tevos, skillfully sounding only mildly invested, replied, "So I'm to understand that she insulted your wardrobe choices... but was not instantly struck from your favor?"
Aria shrugged despite Tevos being unable to witness it, and smiled slyly. "Most of my favorite women are problematic. It's why I like you."
"Oh Aria, I think you've confused the word 'problematic' with 'strong-willed' or 'unfettered'."
The patronizing tone, even when utilized in joke, riled Aria. "Or," she said, "if not her, I could always bring by another girl I know from Illium. On the rare occasion when I need to take business trips there I'm always sure to make an appointment with her. Never in my life have I ever been so... thoroughly satisfied by a therapeutic massage. I'd pass on her business card to you, but something tells me you're not very interested in that type of recreation."
"Not terribly, no. But why exactly would she be an appropriate candidate to accompany you?"
"How else am I to be entertained while you're politicking?"
"Do as you please, Aria. I'm glad you've found a suitable diversion, because you might have found my plans for the evening agonizingly dull in comparison."
A smile spread across her lips. "You have plans?"
"Well, yes. It would've been rather rude on my part, even neglectful, if I had forgotten a promise I made."
Knowing precisely what she was referring to Aria feigned a period of consideration, subjecting Tevos to a span of silence as she pretended to weigh the decision in the privacy of her mind. "I think I just might join you, then. Who would I be to deny the asari councilor a chance to prove the measure of her reliability and reputation?"
:::
After ending her conversation with Aria and forwarding the invitation, Tevos returned to business as usual for the last stretch of the regular work day. What she had told Aria was true, about her aides periodically checking up on her, asking her if she needed anything in the way of food or drink, or someone to help sort her mail. She appreciated their borderline doting, but they were quickly becoming something of a nuisance. Regular distractions frequently derailed her trains of thought and the accompanying work she performed, forcing her to reread sections and review documents which might've been finished if they'd received her undivided attention, so she had enlisted the help of her office VI to compensate.
Its central module would've been dusty from disuse had not her office been impeccably maintained to godly standards of neatness. Tevos had never preferred the company of virtual intelligence, even those that were useful, solely for the fact that they posed an illusion of true sapient intelligence which provided the comfort of personal interaction, only to occasionally reach explicit walls in its programming, which would always be conversationally declared by the VI in question. Then the illusion would dissipate, reminding Tevos that she was effectively alone in terms of independent thought.
Today she had set aside her mild distate for the sake of efficiency. If Matriarch Medora had been so kind to rescue her from legal responsibility, the very least Tevos could do in the meantime was make a genuine effort to resume work just as Medora had wanted her to. As the representative of an entire race, they could feasibly afford her very little time for recuperation. She needed to remain publicly flexible, stalwart, and of immaculate character and pride, perpetually.
Evening was approaching, consuming what remained of the afternoon blue skies with soft pinks and violets. Speaking with Aria again had considerably repaired her mood, but when she was alerted to a visitor whose name sent a vile chill crawling along her flesh, a great erosion of spirit afflicted her. Initially, she couldn't determine the wisest reaction. The announcement had come so suddenly and unexpectedly that she was left nonplussed on the intercom with Eleni for nearly five seconds before she gave any intelligible response.
"Eleni, would you ask him a question for me?"
"Of course, Madam Councilor."
"Can you ask Councilor Estulius what his business is? I'm afraid that I may not be able to see him. I've been very busy all day and I'd like to respond to several high priority correspondences before heading out."
"Yes ma'am. Just one moment..." She left Tevos waiting, quite tensely, until she returned. "It sounds very serious, Councilor. He said it concerns certain intelligence shared between your higher governments."
Tevos caught herself staring into endless space. Her expression of surprise had morphed into painfully acute focus, reflecting the rushing stream of thoughts coursing her mind. As they stood, Estulius was after Tevos, attempting to either frighten her or obviate her altogether, and he was unaware that Tevos had identified him as an enemy in reciprocation. He still believed he had the upper hand, regardless of how quickly he was losing it. Perhaps their governments had begun investigating him due to his association with Drialan Gallin. Perhaps he was panicking, and had come to resolve his problems in person.
Her fingers stiffly curled around the stylus she held. She could not deny him an audience, not while he leveraged access to her with such a legitimate-sounding reason. How could she turn an urgent update away? It would shock and offend not only her own embassy, but the turian one as well. It was, by all means, her solemn duty to hold conversation with him now.
But this time she was alone. Aria was light-years away and unable to defend her if she encountered trouble. There was no tremendous ocean of biotics at her back, waiting for the slightest reason to crash violently upon the shores of all who would harm her. She was alone today, and the realization of it, as the notion condensed into irrefutable reality, made her almost shake.
Did Estulius have it within him, to possibly assault or murder another councilor with his own hands? She tried to reel her fleeing wits back in by asking herself this question, to which the answer seemed to be that it was extremely unlikely. He'd never get away with it, not here. Not while Tevos kept her hand warily on her silent alarm beneath her desk, while her emergency verbal phrase teetered on the edge of her tongue. Estulius had no practical power over her. He didn't even outmatch her in information, and could not surprise her with his allegiance or by spinning new lies about Aria. It was entirely possible that he was only present in a final bid to proselytize her into espousing his convictions before all hell broke loose and immolated all that remained of his foray onto Omega.
:::
Aria strode into the dark metal cell with a slight buoyancy in her step, flicking on just one of the buzzing sodium lights mounted in the ceiling to bathe her captive in a glow of burning orange. It was a very familiar scene, albeit with a significant disparity: Aria had opted to undertake the interrogation on her own, barring any mercenaries or even the squeamish Zuria from interfering in the surgical extraction of intelligence. They'd only embarrass her, or worse—impede her satisfaction on the basis of tastefulness.
Before her, Drialus Lorhan sat restrained to the chair Eruam Anikot had died in not two weeks previously, lazily wiped clean of gore in the aftermath so that the malodorous scent of blood mingling with ammonia products still lingered for Lorhan to rightfully fear. She activated a recording on a terminal set on a lonesome table, watching the live graphical analysis of the emitted waveform flicker before her eyes until the settings suited her. And then she approached him; slowly and leisurely, with all her wrath neatly coiled up inside her body where it was not so apparent, and he lifted his chin to express what mettle he retained.
As before Aria removed her jacket and unhurriedly drew a chair up to him in which she seated herself. She was devoid of all telling emotion beyond an ominous patience.
"Do you know why so few Eclipse mercenaries were able to outmaneuver your tower's forces?" Aria gently asked him.
He didn't reply.
"It was because so many of my mercenaries have faith in an idea. Passionate, zealous faith in the idea that I alone am the best ruler Omega has ever seen. Whereas your mercenaries are motivated by a payroll. They don't actually relish the idea of fighting for you, and in many cases they'll decide that fleeing for their lives or keeping their heads down during a firefight is worth more than a wage. The only worse type of soldier, I've seen, are slave soldiers. Live or die... most just want to be rid of their masters." She paused to nonchalantly examine her nails. "By the way, your tower is in my possession now. They surrendered the moment I sent out reinforcements to secure the area, and I'm already opening negotiations with your forces. Most of them are interested in working for me. What do you make of that, Drialan?"
He nearly flinched at the usage of his true name. "I'm not a foolish man," he said. His voice was relatively calm, but his quivering gaze told a contradictory tale. "I know when I've been defeated, and I know when to submit to impossible circumstances. I've mulled it all over while I waited in here. I think you'll be pleased to know that I can be of tremendous use to you, much like my remaining forces."
Aria said nothing in reply. She merely folded her hands over the back of her reverse-facing chair and afforded him only the anemic comfort of silence. Lorhan faintly squirmed, uncomfortably straining against the binds around his arms and legs.
"Useful to you if kept intact, I might add," he said.
"Why intact?" Aria asked. "How intact does a smuggler-baron need to be to hold conferences and manage his trade routes?"
He sealed his rough lips in reaction to her malice, then parted them again to bravely make his appeal. "It is more accurate to say that there isn't any need, necessarily, to enact vengeance. My feud with your syndicate was neither direct nor personal. I followed the example of those who presented me the best offer, like any reasonable businessperson would. I made money, Aria. I made much of it through this venture, but now that the cash flow has run dry, my loyalty is no more so long as the proverbial drought persists. I consider my friends to be those weilding the superior offer, the best bargain, and now that you are in that position, I would encourage you to take the opportunity."
"The best bargain," Aria echoed his glib words as a wicked smile played across her lips, curling in morbid, dangerous amusement. "Here you sit at the edge of your life after costing me inestimable damages... and you still entertain the possibility of being in a position for bargaining? At least you have gall. More than I thought you did."
"Please, allow me to make my case. I present myself and all the intel I have amassed regarding the powers attempting to usurp you. I have names, locations, descriptions of technology and weapons. You need not strain yourself through this interview. I will be readily compliant in anything you desire."
Aria leaned back to observe him, tapping a pensive finger against the edge of her metal chair until she had made a decision. "Start talking."
Lorhan gladly forfeited his knowledge, just as he'd promised. "Well, I'm certain you're eager to hear it all from the top. The operation was borne from the minds of Primarchs. Primarch Kylris Estulius among them, who took to a private forum to deliberate on the persistent issue of pirate attacks on Traverse worlds. They discussed the topic at great length, trying to contrive some semblance of policy, military or diplomatic, to reduce the occurrences. At the time it wasn't very different from the usual politicking, but then Omega came up. Consequently, Aria T'Loak's syndicate came up—the effective hub of Terminus power and influence, to which dozens of organized pirate groups have formed alliances. But you let them raid. Your conditional allowance was found out several years ago, about how you turn a blind eye to the raids as they happen, then receive payments from the victimized colonies and business on the promise that you will forbid and stem the raids, only to—presumably—share a cut of profits with the corsairs themselves to keep them interested. The racketeering here is ingenious in its careful finesse. No one had ever caught you in the act. So, after identifying you as a potent determinant in the frequency of raiding, the Hierarchy reviewed your treaty with High Command and subsequently contacted them. They held conference, where it was determined that you were in violation of treaty, but only in principle. There is no true condition in that treaty which holds your syndicate accountable for piracy you have not expressly ordained. Legally they cannot extradite you, so long as you operate within the parameters of the loophole you've discovered. Despite this, several Primarchs and several matriarchs vocalized their detest for your apparent dishonesty and raised the possibility of this being the first infraction in a series of many future ones, all of increasing severity. They concluded that they've lost control of you. They began to fear they can't keep you in check for much longer. One Primarch proposed that they take measures to depose you preemptively."
"Which Primarch proposed that?" Aria asked.
"Many followed suit, but... the first who presented that potential course of action, noncommittally at the time, was indeed Kylris Estulius. A great debate arose from that, dividing the governments and instilling immense worry over whether this could ever be done without triggering a full-scale war. Formally, the idea was abandoned. Some Primarchs eagerly voted for Kylris Estulius for the office of turian councilor simply on the merit of his anti-Terminus rhetoric, but they never presumed that he was already sifting through classified military files to locate myself and our other former platoon member, Marus Visiom. While I was here on Omega when he found me, Marus was on Palaven. He had to fake his death to come here. It involved a high-speed rail and some serious collateral damage, but he was successful. "
"Tell me more about Marus. Tell me what role he has in this and where I can find him."
"Oh, he's not far at all. He tends to base operations in Doru, where their central bunker lies. Marus Visiom has been tasked with training the operatives assembled from Omega, usually those picked up from slums and districts where you're still disfavored. He appeals to their discontent. He promises them a golden world with law, order, and safe jobs once government arrives. He tells them they'll never be hungry again. He tells them they'll never have to sleep with knives under their pillows ever again. This is a dream to many and they'll fight to the death for it."
"I know you got on board for the money," Aria said. "But what about Visiom? What were his motivations?"
"It was because of his son, Aetius. About ten years ago, when Marus learned about his son's journey to Omega to sate his appetite for hard drugs and gangs, he grew reclusive. Let his marriage fall apart and dropped out of contact. When Kylris managed to locate him and contact him with an offer, Marus agreed to join us without even requesting compensation. In retrospect it's likely that he repressed too much from our skirmishes during psychological counseling, and I only say that because his first inclination was to simply sabotage Omega's central reactor and obliterate this station from existence. But Kylris, of course, forbade that type of mindset. Omega is too well-situated, too strategic of a territory to let go to waste. Kylris wanted this place for military occupation. He wanted to use the relay to easily supply Omega with ships, provisions, and troops, until this region was tamed. The only way to do this, however, was by installing a new de facto leader who would enable this transformation."
"The people would've revolted long before the first turian ship arrived in Sahrabarik," Aria sneered. "Any leader who invites government power onto Omega is setting themselves up for public execution by their own mercenaries."
"Well, tell that to Marus. Over these last several months he's tailored his revolution to appeal to more people than you'd expect. He's promised them a leader who widely cares for their well-being. One that... a matriarch from Asari High Command offered to provide independently of the rest of her council, claiming that she was the best candidate due to the long lifespans of their species ensuring a certain amount of stability over the next several decades. I'm afraid I was never informed of her identity, or even that of her agent."
"Would such a 'leader' even last a day against other organizations scrambling for power?"
"Likely. She would've had Marus's forces, along with my own, at her back."
"And when it became apparent that Omega was destined for military occupation and not change of... domestic policy, how would you have responded to the riots? The bloodbath?" There was copious challenge in Aria's question, and her blue eyes bore a glint of terrible violence.
He shrugged. "It was decided, that if the population could not be controlled, our loyal forces would evacuate the station under the guise of exile only to leave a covert team of engineers and mercenaries behind, who would disable Omega's environmental systems and abscond shortly before we'd remotely lock down the station. A bit extreme or even, well, apocalyptic, I agree... but it was the original failsafe."
Aria's steely expression never faltered, but the language of her body had grown so tense with anger that at any moment she might have strangled the man for daring to be complicit in completely purging Omega of its very soul, simply because the people had refused to elevate his allies as their leader. Aria could not imagine herself being so desperate, so infuriatingly impotent and lacking control, to resort to such measures, and hoped she never would be. What then would she be, as a ruler of an empty station? Reigning over the void, a nothing economy, where corpses lined the streets and stained the world with the putrid stench of decay? She'd become death, but very little else.
"For a time we organized quietly," Lorhan continued. "I found an ingenious group of quarian medical scientists with the expertise to preserve and rewire an organic nervous system with geth infrastructure. These hybrids would become our weapons... but average cadavers were only ever that—average in potential. We needed high-quality subjects. So I ran drug shipments purchased from Parem Igrahal's clandestine outfit on Camala, sent them back through Sahrabarik, and from here to the Citadel smuggled along with my usual spice exports, to garner the fury of the Council who would, as expected, send in Spectres. The matriarch had an agent, Kiava Vathesa, ready to spring the trap. And it worked. We caught one."
:::
Tevos allowed the indecorous man access to her realm.
Estulius strode into her office with grave severity on his face, respecting his story of bearing serious news, but it also concealed any malicious intent that might've lied just beneath the surface of his weathered facial plating. Without a word Tevos gestured to the empty chair near her desk, bidding him to sit, but her inhospitably frigid gaze had him canting his head in question and his eyes traveling the length of her arm to where it disappeared just under her desk.
"Councilor Tevos," he began, "are you... well?"
"I am," she answered.
"Well... good, then." The forced reply was blatant, but Estulius quickly recovered and donned his best cordiality. "My apologies for interrupting your desk work. I confess that I was rather inundated myself, but I had little choice but to come here to speak with you. My government is now investigating one of my former platoon members, Drialan Gallin. It is highly suspected that he's taken on a pseudonym and established himself on Omega, where he wages war against Aria T'Loak. It is also suspected that he was, to some degree, responsible for Spectre Neora Sarthis's murder. I am... unsettled. I know not what to make of all this."
"I regularly feel the same," said Tevos.
"Has your... Asari High Command, spoken of any countermeasure? If we combine our efforts and act quickly, we may be able to address this threat in a way that does not upset any delicate treaties. I only ask to participate as an ambassador between our governments, for this circumstance."
Tevos ascertained his purpose. Estulius was here to probe for information, to brace himself and Gallin for the inevitable and potentially develop a clever defense in time. She would not grant him the vaguest shade of hope.
"Not at this time," she said. "It may be several days before either of our peoples are willing to even start considering a plan of action. If Drialan Gallin is truly antagonistic to the Council, their investigation must present an impressive preponderance of evidence. It would be incredibly dangerous to act hastily within the Terminus Systems. Attacking the wrong target would prove... disastrous."
"Yes, absolutely. You are very correct; we shall just have to... I suppose we'll have to sit quietly and wait until a conclusion has been made. For now, I have one more question for you, Councilor."
Tevos gave a cautious nod, permitting him to ask his question.
He reclined comfortably in his chair, folding his hands in front of his middle, confidently. "What in the universe endeared you to an individual such as Aria T'Loak?"
Shock had imprisoned her in silence. Tevos merely stared at him, desperately waiting for an elaboration that would turn the terrifying question benign. It never arrived.
"I mean... I find it absolutely confounding that one who takes such pride in a reputation of integrity and fairness could consort with a detestable, well, tyrant. I find myself lacking the facilities to properly understand, so I was hoping that you'd be able to explain more clearly."
"...Explain what?" Tevos asked when she had finally recovered her voice.
"Explain this." From a pocket in his well-tailored raiment Estulius produced a holodisk and passed it to Tevos. Seeing her hesitance, he gestured to her private terminal, calmly encouraging her to play it.
Tevos looked down into the palm of her hand, scrutinizing the small bit of metal and polymer and detecting a quality in it so foreboding that she nearly lifted her head again to outright refuse. Such a reaction would incriminate her just as well as anything the disk might have contained. Favoring the unknown diminutively more than certain exposure, she eventually complied.
Her terminal projected the sound file. It took a mere instant to recognize the voices, and conversation, that reached their ears.
"Aria, you need to call off your assault now. Don't ask me to explain. Simply trust me when I say that you need to retreat from the refinement plant immediately—"
"What the hell are you on about? We've already stormed the plant and occupied it. Yes, it was rigged with a few bombs here and there but they weren't much of an issue. Otherwise it's completely deserted, and I've only been able to send in a small company to infiltrate a possible escape route. I appreciate the concern but it's coming a little too late to be useful."
"You need to listen to me, Aria. You need to leave now. There are two gunships approaching your location as we speak."
As the file continued relaying the rest of the conversation, Estulius spoke his mind, mingling his voice with those of the recording. "Such... fascinating hubris is demonstrated here. To extort technology from a suspicious source and believe that it can be altered and repurposed enough to prevent exploitation by those who developed it. That channel used that day... was even more compromised than the file that will follow this one, which I admit was obtained through very difficult and risky means. It waited as an original copy for weeks until it could be physically delivered to those with a lucrative use for it."
"At the very least I should try to be seen in friendly company. I never once thought I'd ever have a use for tabloid attention..."
"Do you want to stop?"
"Do I want to—? I—no. No, as I said before, we only need to be more discreet about it... Do you want to stop?"
"Unlike you I'm in no risk of major consequence, and I'm perfectly comfortable with things as they are. So, no."
Tevos slowly turned her eyes upon Estulius. She beheld him, lips slightly parted in disbelief as an amalgam of fear and shock seized her body. "How did you get this...?" she hollowly breathed.
"I'm sure that isn't the most pressing question on your mind right now. And you still haven't answered mine."
Faced by the atrocious breach of security poised to defame her, Tevos's inner deliberation flailed for a solution. The time for tact had ended. She was now possessed by a terrible fury, an indignity so concentrated it crashed through her composure and emerged on her lips as a series of statements uttered so tightly they might've shattered. "You... I know your hand in all this. High Command does as well. And I have tolerated you and your lies long enough. You... are a despicable, ignoble, unworthy shadow of what a councilor should be, and you will see justice for your warmongering."
Estulius seemed impervious to her insult. "But will you see justice for your fraternization?" he turned the question back onto her, then shrugged. "They may or may not dig up enough to convict me. Who knows, maybe the Hierarchy will deem my peripheral involvement dismissible enough to cover it up, or maybe I'll enter a plea bargain and receive some political protection. The alternative would reflect poorly on my people, as you'd expect. I still have options. But as for yourself, Councilor Tevos... you're probably more concerned about your credibility at this point. Government investigations can be carried out quietly, but a scandal publicly distributed through the extranet... I don't believe that would be as easily cleaned up."
She maintained her cold glare. "This could be seen as a fabrication. Calumny."
"Perhaps," said Estulius. "But conversation will inspire inquiry, perhaps even from High Command. I don't believe they'd be pleased to watch their highest ambassador flounder in accusation and distrust. They'd likely want to apprehend whether these allegations have any basis in fact, and if they do, it couldn't be tolerated due to the endangerment of Council Space security. However... you may be surprised to hear that you still have options, too."
Tevos declined to humor him with a response. She instead fixated on the faint scars decorating his face; the brutal penmanship of pirates who'd spurned him decades ago, and wondered if they remembered Estulius as vividly as he remembered them. As she stared hard at him, the recording continued to play and brought heated agitation seething just beneath the surface of her cheeks.
"You're sexy when you're ruthless."
"Are you going to start writing my name in the margins of your journal now, Aria? Encircled by hearts, maybe?"
:::
"Doctor Faesa'Xeer was... a bit of an unexpected asset," said Lorhan. "You see, she, like the other living hybrids, was formally deceased but unlike them she was nevertheless self-aware and endowed with the ability to communicate with other geth. You know this by reports sent to you by now, without a doubt. I cannot actually speak with her beyond the sharing of visual experience, but... there have been times when she's looked directly at something for a long span of time, as if she meant for me to see it. I recall one recent instance where she stared at one of the patients at Parem Igrahal's hospital. Stared for an obscene amount of time as they dozed in a lounge area. Then she looked downward to her arm, where she then gruesomely carved by the dulled edges of her nails the word 'slaves' in a Palaven dialect. Perhaps she thought we didn't know and desired to inform me, being under the impression that our operation was truly one to liberate Omega."
Aria scoffed. "Who would've bothered to tell her? No one sympathetic to Igrahal, of course. It's bad for business when your clients are so multicultural."
"Well, perhaps her colleagues. The quarians. It seems that they've tried to keep her in the dark, but... she's proven remarkably resourceful." Lorhan leaned in as far as he could, until the restraints pressed into his carapace, and lowered his voice to an extent where it wouldn't have been picked up by the recording. "I see a threat in her. Who can predict the capabilities she'll develop once the quarians acquire enough hardware to upgrade her transmissions? Remote hacking? Espionage? In my opinion, you'd be wise to either capture or eliminate a liability such as her." He straightened out his posture again.
"Why the whispers, Drialan? Speak up."
He directed his gaze to the terminal recording the interrogation. The waveform settled into a flatline when they both grew quiet, then jumped energetically to life again when Aria spoke.
"I'm not unmindful. I set up the recording with clear intention." She drew near, carrying a deadly edge in her voice. "I wanted Nazara to hear. Wanted her to realize what she's contending with. What'll happen if I find out she'd aided our enemy creatures in any form, or plans to in the future. Though I am curious, Drialan... if you planned to swear fealty to me, why would you fear her retaliation? Unless you planned to rejoin her cause at one point, and only sold her out in hopes that you'd impress me."
"No, no; that isn't what I meant by it! I already expressed that we cannot know the extent of her—"
Aria suddenly bolted up from her own chair and kicked Lorhan's over with a well-aimed strike from her sole. With a surprised shout and a heavy clatter he fell back against the floor, momentarily disoriented until Aria pressed the heel of her boot into his throat. Terror swam in his eyes as Aria crouched over him, gripped the hard fringe of his crest, and pulled his head back until the tip lightly clicked against the cold floor. She was looking at his eyes with an almost voracious aspect in hers, wild and untamed as if hunting a priceless, fabled jewel.
"W-what are you—" Lorhan began. Panic surged throughout his body when he witnessed Aria drawing a long, thin knife from a discreet sleeve sewn to the inside of her boot. "Hold on! Hold on! You don't have to go about it like that! There's an easier method for removal—!"
"Really? You have five seconds to explain it."
"J-just grip with two fingers at twelve and six o'clock, twist counterclockwise, and gently pull until the optic nerve—"
"Time's up," Aria announced and thrusted her hand downward, following his instructions precisely. That is, up until the point where he was cut off. With more abrupt and ruthless force than what was strictly necessary she ripped the mechanical organ straight out of the socket, drawing along with it a pulse of blood dribbling onto his brow. Lorhan cried out hoarsely in pain, thrashing in his chair as he frantically opened and shut his eyelids in shock.
Ignoring him, Aria held the orb up to the amber shafts of light, and through the wafting particles of dust beheld its elegantly simple design: a mere lens that produced images of greater clarity than any natural asari or turian eye ever had, but removed from the usual filaments that would encircle it in certain smaller geth platforms to produce the hallmark halo of bright light.
So this was it, she thought. A trophy to prove her superiority over augmented life, over those weaponized bodies who had mistakenly believed that they were inherently advantaged and better outfitted to survive the atrocious and glorious violence of Omega.
There was no being in the universe that could depose her. This only proved it.
"Are you actually going to kill me?" Lorhan interrupted her thoughts.
Aria decided to torment him. "It would be the wisest course of action, wouldn't you think?" She examined the peculiar violet gleam produced by the lens when held at certain angles against the light. "Removing unnecessary liabilities."
"You can't," he said. "While Kylris would know by now that I've been captured, he doesn't know if I'm alive or not. I've told him on a previous occasion that if news ever reached him that I'd been imprisoned, I would contact him within three days, and if I ever failed to, he should presume I'm dead and act accordingly. He has a contingency plan for this event. Telycialux Daus would have delivered to him the key component of it, just this afternoon. That was the errand I sent him on. If Kylris finds out I'm dead... your asari councilor ally will be ruined by what that package contained."
The faint, muffling scraping of Aria's heel could be heard when she lowered the mechanical eye pinched between her fingers and turned to face him. The light of the sodium lamp gleamed off the crown and crest of her head as she demanded, with painfully bright and alert focus etched into her features, that he elaborate without delay. "What did you give him?" she asked, clenching her jaw to contain the tension straining to erupt on her voice.
"Audio files," he confessed. "A few tapped conversations. They're enough to prove your sordid affair, or whatever it was."
Aria quietly exhaled though her lips and placed her hands on her hips—the one containing the eye using her curled knuckles to maintain the contemptuous position. "And Estulius... has these files? He has them in hand as we speak?"
"If Daus wasn't intercepted at any point during his trip... yes. He does."
She nodded as if she'd been admitted into a educational lecture and gleaned from it several pieces of information she hadn't possessed before. "I..." For the first time in a very long time, Aria seemed to grasp for words. "I... have an offer for you, Drialan."
"...An offer?"
"Yes." Without any overt urgency, Aria strode over to the table containing the terminal and carefully placed the mechanical eye upon it before returning to Lorhan's overturned chair. She pulled it back onto its four feet with minimal effort and, to the turian's great surprise, unfastened his restraints.
Confused and wary, he sat motionlessly for a time, too fearful of Aria's intentions to take advantage of the opportunity.
"Stand up," she brusquely ordered him. When Aria reached for the heavy pistol at her belt his lonely eye widened, but she tossed it carelessly to the side along with the harness piece of her corset upon which she carried her arsenal. Aria stood before him revealing more skin than he had ever seen of her, with only the basic component of her black corset to cover her torso. Cautiously, he complied.
"I'm going to give you a chance to leave, Lorhan," she said, shoulders lightly heaving with blooming impatience as she wrung her hands together, loosening tendons and knuckles, and relaxing muscle. "A chance to be rid of me forever."
"Wait... what do you mean? I..." Lorhan suddenly realized her meaning. "I... I was just a pilot, a navigator, a negotiator! My combat training was minimal and I haven't seen a fight in decades—"
"Then learn quickly." There was merciless venom in Aria's voice when she lunged forward and smashed her clenched fist into the tender flesh beneath his jaw, sending Lorhan reeling and staggering ingloriously to the floor. "Get up!" she snapped at him. When he didn't, Aria gripped him by the front of his wrinkled attire and hauled him back to his feet just so she could send him back there with another fierce blow.
She couldn't believe she'd been bested in any arena by such a pathetic man. Searching for satisfaction in the sight of his blood she pursued him, hating the way he crawled and writhed, hating how he thought himself enough to ruin the lives of people vastly superior to him from where he had cowered feebly in his tower. There would never be a retribution sweet enough to overpower the bitterness gathering in her mouth.
Lorhan trembled and shuddered in a heap, trying to drag himself away and hide in the corner of the room. A mere shell of a criminal lord, Aria judged him. No power, no respect for his own beliefs, no passion, no purpose. Only empty greed without direction.
She kicked him in the side with the reinforced toe of her boot to hear him plead, and began to regret not leading her officers into his territory years ago to kill him and refurbish his tower into a second-rate spa or casino. If she had, they would've never been in this predicament. If she had not hesitated. If she had not been merciful. If she had not waited for long ages to gradually emaciate him of wealth and make the takeover easier.
But not even listening to him beg and grovel for his life was gratifying, not like it was when Aria brought more noble quarries into this cage. Watching powerful enemy drug lords and mass murderers kneel whimpering at her feet, reducing themselves to wretched little worms before her, instilled a tremendous pleasure within her core that could not be replicated here no matter how badly she wounded Lorhan. He was already a wretched little worm. There was no transformation to enjoy, no new assertion of dominance, because it had already been clearly established long ago. This time, it was all maddeningly redundant.
Aria pushed him into the chair a final time, paying little mind to how he bled and clutched at himself in pain, and opened the mail client on her omni-tool.
"Speak to him," she commanded. "To Estulius. Tell him you're alive." She thrust the glowing interface toward him.
"K-Kylris...? Kylris, I'm alive. I'm currently d-detained by... by you know who. Please, if you have the package, do not distribute it. Kylris... we can't keep doing this. We're at our end." He coughed, covering his mouth with his sole hand to catch the blood and spittle. "We've lost, Kylris. Please, don't make this harder than it has to be. I just... I just want to get out of here, Kylris. Don't distribute the package. I don't want to die in here."
Aria sent the message along through an anonymous account. It would soon appear in the inbox of one of Estulius's secretaries at the turian embassy, who would alert him at once. She noticed a peculiar sound emanating from Lorhan's chair. The man had begun to weep. Spitefully, Aria faked an aggressive lunge toward him, abruptly cancelling it by pressing opposing force against the floor with her right foot, but the motion served its purpose. Lorhan recoiled violently, raising his arms to protect his head from a punishment that never came.
She wouldn't kill him. At least, not until several days at minimum had passed. Normally Aria would've taken the time to forcefully extract his knowledge through a meld, but her mood had turned so foul she feared that if she had to wade through his sobbing and pleading for more than three seconds it might've frustrated her to point where she actually killed him.
There would be time for more interviews, starting the next day. And they needed to be daily—with communications potentially still compromised, Aria thought it imperative to wait until the conference on Thessia before she even fathomed sharing what she had learned with Tevos.
Leaving his proximity, Aria stepped back over to the table holding the mechanical eye and her terminal, where she sat down and accessed a converter program, along with a geth schematic in a second window for her to reference. Improvisation with typical devices of torture she'd brought but neglected to use during that session, Aria wiped away the blood and bits of tissue still clinging to the severed conduits extending out of the back of the eye and used a pair of pliers to manipulate them. After spending some time grafting the wires responsible for transmitting images to a universal cable she hooked up the device to her terminal and was greeted by a live feed of what was being seen on the other end.
There was little doubt that Nazara had been waiting to communicate with Aria. She had a sight prepared for her; the interior of desolate personal quarters, but on the wall there waited a message written in shaky but deliberate script by a red wax pencil meant for marking laboratory glassware, beseeching quite cryptically:
Witness my death.
Beneath it there were drawn a series of threateningly jagged lines in sinusoidal nature, detailed profusely. A moment of contemplation was all that was required before Aria identified them as sound waves, upon which she converted the image file to a waveform with ease and played it for herself.
"Remember, Liselle, you did everything right today... And don't forget that I love you."
A coldness so bone-deep and arresting gripped Aria that she barely paid any mind to the way Lorhan peered at her with his bludgeoned face, bewildered by the words sounding on Aria's voice. Her mind had been compromised by a single gruesome thought. Murder; dripping with wild, inexorable certainty and a wrath so cosmic that any occurrences of similar magnitude had gone unseen in a millennium.
:::
Estulius composedly went on. "You realize... I obtained this recording as a result of carelessness, but not your carelessness, Councilor Tevos. You are cautious, meticulous. Aria T'Loak is not. Not with her lovers, because they aren't part of her syndicate. She closely guards what means most to her, but when it comes to outside affairs it seems she just can't be bothered to be discreet. She never had anything to lose. She even said so." He indicated Tevos's terminal. "Do you really still hold her in high regard, when she recklessly gambles the fate of your career?"
"Exposure was neither of our intentions, but I knowingly consented to the level of risk. Either way, you will not turn me against the one who saved my life against your hireling."
"You are quick to assume, Councilor," he said. "But that's behind us. The matter that remains is deciding what your future will entail, over which you retain a surprising amount of influence. You see, I don't find any joy in the idea of hurting you. I would never have done such a thing if I didn't have to. It doesn't have to play out this way, Tevos. You have the power to change things if you like. I have already made a few arrangements to your benefit. At your peace conference next week, there will be a turian woman waiting for you. She will have on her face orange colony emblems, waiting along the east wall of the dining area whilst escorting an asari magnate along with her hanar spouse. Don't bother trying to arrest her; she knows nothing beyond very simple instructions, and is under the impression that she's combatting the threat of batarian terrorism. Accost her and inquire as to whether she has anything for a headache. She will you give you a vial and her contact information. The vial contains medicine for your problem. It can be most effectively applied later on when you're... alone... in your room. Pour it into your companion's drink and watch all your problems magically disappear. There's no pain. It'll be like falling asleep. Then you will contact the turian woman again and confirm your success. Everything after that will be thoroughly taken care of for you."
The audacity of his plan was staggering. Leaders assassinating leaders... was there any sense left in the galaxy? Or any perspective of consequence, for that matter? Aria's syndicate was not stupid. The sudden disappearance of their ruler after attending a Thessian conference to ostensibly exploit a relationship with them, would not go unnoticed. They'd vehemently demand and threaten to know what had become of her, all the way up to war. Even if Estulius could not wrap his head around it, or perhaps it was his deranged intent all along, there was virtually no manner in which Aria could be neutralized in their territories which would not trigger a massive conflict.
"And what if I refuse?" Tevos asked with needle-sharp temperament.
"If you haven't contacted my agent by midnight, the next day you will see me appear live, issuing a morning address. I don't think I need to describe what it will contain in an addendum." Estulius placed his hands on the arms of his chair to leverage his rise, preparing to depart. Before he did, he paused to say one last thing to Tevos. "I remind you, Councilor. It doesn't have to be this way. It's entirely your choice, and I earnestly hope to see you make the right one. Oh, and don't bother saving the recording you've probably made of this meeting. It's grounds to publish this all the same."
Her grip around her stylus only discreetly tightened further.
"I am trying to save this galaxy, Tevos. I am trying to unite it under a mantle of imperial peace. Is that not what you want?"
"Not by these means," she said.
"Well, we shall all see within several days, to whom your loyalty primarily belongs: the Council... or Omega."
"My primary loyalty belongs to neither," Tevos firmly asserted, capturing his attention for a but a moment more. "My primary loyalty is to the people of Council Space, who I have sworn to protect to the bitter end."
When he left, Tevos mirthlessly told her VI, whose translucent, hovering interface had hidden itself where Aria once had, to archive the audio recording she had initiated before Estulius stepped into her office. Unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation it obeyed without qualm and cheerfully whirred along, asking her if there was anything else she required. Not at all in any mood to reply, she had it enter hibernation mode.
There she sat at her desk for a time, distraught to the point of dissociation. Was she afraid, she asked herself? Yes. She was very afraid. Estulius would paint her a dishonest woman, devoid of morality and decency, and she would lose her office and bear a deplorable reputation for the rest of her life, blacklisted across numerous political professions and her word stripped of all clout, provided that her charges were not framed as excessively criminal.
But Estulius's ultimatum meant nothing to her. Not even for the briefest moment had Tevos actually considered harming Aria. If her loyalty and principles led to her own demise, she had decided, then so be it. She would not demean herself to Estulius's level, where he tied himself to everything he could bring down with him in a fiery, spiteful shower of mutually-assured destruction. If there lingered any trace of higher meaning in this dizzying conflict as it approached its messy close, it existed within the substance of conviction, and no amount of aspersion nor arraignment would convince Tevos that she was mistaken in refusing to betray Aria's trust.
She was going to suffer for it; for all their indulgent urges and desires, and plotting and steering the very course of history to suit their dual preference.
But how would have pure sanctimony on her part protected the galaxy, if it only led to setting their worlds ablaze with the war Estulius evidently coveted? Moral high ground was but a luxury for those who had comparably little to lose, who had no investment nor care about the rise of a disastrous new precedent. It was an illusion for those who enjoyed a delightfully simple world, where everything was suspended between a limited binary of extremes, where Aria lied magnificently in the middle posing an amorphous, iridescent shade which could never be named; not by persons of limited scope who couldn't perceive nor comprehend her in that treacherous zone of ambiguity.
:::
When there was a commotion at the door of the dreary capsule-home, Hiral was the one to admit Aria and her two accompanying commandos. All occupants, even those employed to her such as Rasma Visiom and Malak Lekahn, were thoroughly shocked at her unannounced intervention in their mission to learn more about the quarians who had constructed the deadliest weapons their syndicate had ever faced. With lethal regality she strode down the hall, neglecting to inform anyone of her purpose, until she had found her prey: the one called Nazara, sitting placidly in her room with her message to Aria having been wiped away into smears of red wax on the steel of the wall. Like before, she was awaiting her.
Aria gestured for the mercenaries to leave them alone. Once they had evacuated for their privacy, Aria sat down before the peculiar being and asked with little hesitation, "Who else knows?" She switched off the safety of her heavy pistol and leveled the barrel at Nazara.
"Only myself," she replied. "Asari High Command's agent has tapped you in more ways than you realize. Drialus Lorhan's eye was not the only one that ever existed on Omega, you recall. There were other methods for streaming information to me. Transcription of live bug feeds, projected upon the ceiling while no one ever thought it could still perceive."
The Spectre's corpse, Aria realized. She immediately tapped her communicator to relay a short message to her lieutenant, "Zuria, get down to where Havlon's keeping the Spectre's remains. Remove the remaining optic, bag it, and conceal it until I arrive there. Sweep the lounges for bugs while you're at it." When she turned back to Nazara, Aria proceeded to ask her, "Why haven't you shared this information with anyone? Are you trying to consolidate its value through exclusivity?"
"No. I haven't shared it because harm would come to Liselle. And she is the only one left who has a chance at stopping you."
Aria softly but cruelly laughed, cocking the pistol while shaking her head. Her smile vanished in an instant. "Don't fuck with me. Tell me the real reason."
"I did. I only sought this information because it would bring you to me." Nazara began sliding her hand over the arm of her chair, moving toward a compartment.
"Don't even think about it," Aria cautioned her.
"I would like to show you something. Proof."
"...Move your hand," she ordered. When Nazara obeyed, Aria took it upon herself to access the discreet compartment herself; pressing two fingers into a perforation that was to be peeled away from a hidden drawer. Inside were two tiny vials containing a translucent substance, which Aria held to the light for examination, both pinched between her index finger and thumb. They boasted the faintest yellow hue.
"The analgesic," Nazara explained. "The biotoxin extract. Vil'Yelva would pass them to Telycialux Daus whenever he arrived for a patient delivery."
"So what is this?" Aria asked as she lowered her hand to pocket the vials. "Your confession? Are you surrendering to me?"
"In a sense, maybe that's accurate. I have outlasted everything I shouldn't have. He used them. Vil'Yelva. Used the moribund patients for my body. Do you know what I'm made of, Aria T'Loak? I am quarian no longer. I am merely the flesh of slaves, unwillingly conscripted even beyond death itself." The light of Nazara's eyes seemed to quaver as she reached to the front of the robes shrouding her excessively, keeping her motions patently harmless to avoid unnecessarily provoking Aria. When she peeled the fabric downward to expose shallow ridges of bone and inner cables protruding from her severe emaciation, Aria saw that the flesh covering them was varicose and chimeric in hue and apparent texture. What she had said was undeniably true—Nazara could scarcely even be called quarian anymore.
Anyone else might have been unsettled or sickened by the scars of old stitching and incongruous cooperation of innumerable bodies held in one. But Aria had lived long and seen the outsides and insides alike of many beings, and the only reaction Nazara's physique could draw from her was a mildly perplexed downward trend of her brow.
"And do you know what you are?" Nazara asked. She straightened out her robes.
"What am I?" Aria humored her.
"You're no different. A profane conflation of your innumerable murders, the absorption of lives and homes and surviving associates into the bloated patchwork monster you control now. A beast so ravenous that one day it will rupture and collapse beneath its own weight, but not before it's licked the bones of the very last soul on Omega."
"Nice try, but I've heard worse, more original, and more accurate," said Aria. "Now... where is High Command's agent, and what does she know?" She reached forward, extended one arm, and wrapped her fingers stiffly around Nazara's frail throat. "Or will I have to ask assertively?"
"Much, little," came her divested response. "Both."
Aria's grip began to tighten. "What's her name? Don't test my patience. I know how to make this very, very painful."
"If I had ever known her, she would be dead by tomorrow morning."
"Then how can I find her?"
"Difficultly. Easily."
She struck her across the face, but much unlike the dramatic reactions Lorhan had entertained her with earlier that evening, Nazara gave all the reaction a statue of stone might have. Undeterred, Aria drew close and hissed belligerently, "You have threatened my daughter's life, regardless of your original intent. I have every justification to kill you right here, and don't think I won't if you continue to fuck around my questions."
"Then why haven't you? Is it because you covet intelligence for your syndicate more than you love her?"
Aria was livid. Her patience had been depleted utterly, thrusting her into impulse; she swiftly holstered her pistol and brought her hand upward to join the first around Nazara's neck. Impossible black flooded her eyes, glossing them over with a membrane of hateful conquest rather than the tenderness of mating, and forced herself into the conscience of the creature before her. Shredding past strange layers of mechanical ons and offs, bursting past panes of thick mental glass with the ordered composition of crystal where amorphous nets of squirming, fleshy thought should have been feebly resisting her ruthless advance, and into a viscous black sea of experience she descended, tar or oil, organic or mechanical, and felt the grim ebb of it crawling along the inside of her head, pouring into her mouth, down her throat.
Flashes of suffering found her. Eyes rapidly fluttering open and shut without volition, fingers twitching uncontrollably as the mind was altered by cold chips and conduits. Simple for them, like sifting around in a soft bowl of fruit. Striding on legs that didn't match through the long corridor of a tomb, shivering and shaking like a newborn fawn of some unnamed animal, searching for a place where the lights didn't hurt as much. The cruel batarian woman who wore jewelry like the bones of the slaves she bought and butchered, planting tiny bombs in their heads and forging contracts for those who refused to sign them, welcoming in the world like one of their own, promoting health and wholesomeness for patients by siphoning away that of her donors. Vil'Yelva and Hasin'Tirul shaking her hand, then sliding shut and locking refrigerated drawers full of vacuum-sealed bags of spines and organs so Kaelit'Shao wouldn't see what he actually negotiated for them. Drialus Lorhan's deceitful eyes—one rheumy with excitement and one gleaming malicious violet—gliding over her countenance as he inspected the craftsmanship of her existence. The girl called Liselle, wiping her eyes and sniveling, mourning the world she'd been born into.
Old wistful glimpses of a flotilla sailing the black canvas of the universe, rolling and rotating and wheeling along in unity, in strength, in hope. She'd never see them again. A sapient twist of despair deep enough to distort the vista into a nightmare; now envisioning a seething planetary mass of pulsing flesh and machinery, suspended in a featureless, dismal void where it undulated infernally, whispering the languages of the stars known and forgotten, condensing and evolving into a single dialect.
I do not assimilate, said one of them, both of them, or all of them.
Nazara had touched something, or contrived something, with her mind on the way here. Something incomprehensible, of unfathomable scale, computing a name for itself, for her and for all beings trapped on the edge of doom and forced to look upon it. To attempt interpreting it as Nazara had sent the nightmare reeling into vertigo. It unraveled and retreated back into a nothingness so consuming it seemed to mirror itself; mirrors and mirrors and endless mirrors made of accelerating data, recursively collapsing until the pressure wrought Aria to what felt like mere molecules.
When Aria ejected herself from the meld she found herself in a daze, staring blankly forward for several seconds until she realized that the world was the world again. Her senses gradually emerged from the delay they'd succumbed to, enabling her to breathe again and discern the ambient sounds of the building.
Then dizziness hit her, inducing the most nauseating, head-splitting migraine Aria had ever endured. Initially shocked by the tremendous wave of pain she lifted a clammy hand, pressed her palm against her forehead, and was finally able to wrench a hoarse shout of agony from her vocal cords.
Her mercenaries burst into the room and raced to her side, alerted to Aria's distress and immediately endeavoring to isolate its cause. One removed her hands from her face, held her steady, and produced a small flashlight. The mercenary shone it into Aria's eyes to assess whether her mysterious ailment was traumatic, but Aria pushed the light away as another spike of pain embedded into her skull.
"Stop! Stop it!" She commanded them, pulling her arms away from their grasp despite their subtle shaking. "I'm fine."
Across from her Nazara was as impassive as she'd been before, watching Aria's illness with a silence that could only denote intrigue. And then she said, quietly for the limited area in the room, "You will not be slain by the enemies who hunt you, but by the flesh you bore. I could never conceive a more fitting end."
Aria's reaction to her obscure prophesying was abjectly negative. With her cold, trembling fingers she suddenly drew her heavy pistol, aim quivering as she pushed it through the mercenaries fretting over her, and leveled it at Nazara's head to the best of her ability. She pulled the trigger without a semblance of hesitation, but in her weakness the bullet strayed from intended course and cut through the side of Nazara's neck, who never flinched, even as blood-coursed arteries and conduits of conductive fluid began spilling out from the gruesome hole in her throat. Aria shot her again in the cheek, and again in the jaw, before she finally found her target in the center of her forehead.
When the damage and loss of fluids began taking its toll Nazara slumped without a fuss, her eyes dimming as she thought no more.
Aria pushed herself up from her chair, refusing the aid offered by her commandos. The other quarians, escorted by the investigative team assigned to them, were waiting outside the room when they emerged, frantic and shouting in denial at the loss of their greatest investment, and consequentially everything they had diligently worked on since they first set foot upon the station. In the sight of Nazara's lifeless body they saw the future of their people shatter. But Aria denied them a chance to mourn just yet; she ordered her forces to escort them into the room where medical supplies were kept at lower temperatures, and from the knowledge she'd lifted from Nazara's mind Aria was able to locate a concealed flush panel in the wall which, when one pushed their fingers into it and gripped an interior handle, rolled out a hidden cabinet of various drawers. Opening them yielded the cargo Nazara had promised: a grisly stow of cadavers and separated body parts, meticulously labeled beneath thin layers of frost coating the sealed plastic.
"Indentured flesh is cheap," Aria remarked, particularly to Vil'Yelva's horror. "Fortunate to have a business agreement with someone with plenty of access to it, isn't it?"
"That... that isn't..."
Kaelit'Shao was approaching the drawer. When Vil'Yelva tried to stop him, Rasma held him back.
"...T-They're... they're..." came the timorous voice of the errand-runner as he scanned the labels, and confirmed his worst fears as truth. "...They were s-slaves, Vil'Yelva! Slaves! How could you?!"
"Kaelit—"
He was too distraught to listen. "Slaves—!" he cried. "I-It's this place! It's this horrible, evil station, p-poisoning everything and everyone that comes here! Keelah, we're slavers...! No, no, no, no...!"
Hasin'Tirul managed to push past Malak to attempt restraining Kaelit, but he only caused his growing hysteria to peak. They struggled against one another until Kaelit ripped his arms free of Hasin and groped blindly for something, anything to defend himself with from the monsters in the room with him. When he stumbled over a scalpel he brandished it without thinking, thoroughly alarming his associates. Bravely, Vil'Yelva tried to disarm him of the weapon but Kaelit retaliated, shouting in grief and resentment as he lashed out at him.
It was dubious as to whether it was Kaelit's intent, when the scalpel plunged into the neck of Vil'Yelva's enviro-suit, and even more dubious as to whether twisting the blade was meant to kill him or an accident while trying to frantically remove it. But Hasin'Tirul's intent was flagrant when he gripped hold of a liquid nitrogen dispenser and swung it at Kaelit, catching him in the back and knocking him to the floor where he kicked a gurney down between them to grant him enough time to rise. Only a single deep slash was cut into Hasin's side before he was able to smash the dispenser into the front of Kaelit's helmet twice, breaking through the protective visor on the first and bludgeoning his face in the second.
When the violence had settled, the wide-eyed, terrified, and panting Hasin'Tirul clutched at the wound in his side, pulling away from it a slick stain of blood on his fingers. In an instant he knew the urgent mortal danger he was in, felt the cruel maw of death reaching out to taunt him, and looked to his captors as a last resort.
He looked to Aria in particular, noticing then an aspect of calm, well-calculated mercy materialize on her features as she gently offered him, "Would you like medical attention, Hasin'Tirul?"