MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR

*Episode Thirty-Seven*

Lina'Xen knew the wards well.

When she had first come to the Citadel she was frightened and starving, but also cunning. She knew the skills and knowledge she possessed would be useful to someone.

For nine months she scraped a living in the packed ward arms, doing whatever she could for a few credits and for a while, things were beginning to show promise. She had enough to eat and drink, and what little was left over she could pocket for herself.

Back on the flotilla, she'd often heard stories from those returning from Pilgrimage.

They spoke of homesickness, of prejudice and hate but Lina had already known worse from the day she was born. Even the harsh life of the wards was nothing compared to the isolation and torment Daro'Xen had put her through since childhood. In the darkness of the city streets, Lina had thrived.

The forests of buildings and interconnecting walkways were still fresh in her mind as she led Milo along.

Their route twisted from crowded thoroughfares into empty alleys, the Citadel's walls never changing from one location to the next. Keepers dotted the path, green splashes amid patches of red and purple light. Following them always were the murmurings of crowds and shuttle engines.

Lina kept looking back over her shoulder, knowing that to do it too often would give their plan away. They needed whoever was chasing them to believe they were unaware of his presence or the ambush would fail even before it had begun.

Every glance revealed a flicker of shadow, a familiar, dark bulk just at the edge of her vision and she was satisfied.

Milo had started to pant lightly, his chest heaving as Lina's brisk pace began to wear him down. Lina could tell he too longed to keep an eye at his back but he deferred to her constantly as he tried to act as casually as possible.

'You sure seem to know your way around,' he remarked. 'How long have you been on the Citadel?'

Lina felt herself growing irritated at the chatter, but reasoned that part of acting casual was to converse. In any case, Milo needed all the help he could get in taking his mind off the possibility of a slug in his back at any moment.

'A year,' she replied, 'I came here on my…my Pilgrimage. It's a rite of passage among my people wherein a young quarian leaves the ship of their birth and explores the galaxy, returning to a new ship when they have found something of value to the flotilla.'

She risked another look back. Their pursuer was too far behind. She had to slow down.

Milo nodded. 'I remember reading about the quarians' Pilgrimage a long time ago, back when I was studying galactic races. I take it you came straight to the Citadel?'

Lina looked aside briefly. She had not told a soul of her past with the exception of Arlen, and that was painful enough.

She probably should have known better than to think she could simply bury the truth, to pretend it all never happened. Though she felt closer to Milo than she had anyone else for a long time there were still things she had to conceal, at least for the time being.

'Yes,' she lied, 'but it was tough. I had to do things I'm not very proud of, just to survive from one day to the next.'

Milo's eyes widened and his response was uncomfortable. 'Oh, I see. I'm so sorry, Lina, I shouldn't have asked.'

'What?' Lina's head flitted briefly in his direction and in spite of their circumstances, her voice rose into a mortified yell. 'Not those kind of things, you idiot! I just fell in with the wrong crowd!'

'Ah, of course,' Milo smirked.

Lina shook her head. The assumption had been so infuriatingly like him and yet she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips as she went on.

'I made a reputation for myself as a VI programmer. Illegal personality mods mostly, but their sophistication caught people's attention. Before long I was approached by men working for a local thug named Fist. He owns a club nearby called Chora's Den, have you heard of it?'

'Who in C-Sec hasn't?' Milo answered wryly.

Lina shot him a smile, hidden under her visor. 'He had me program a pair of hidden gun turrets in his office, a nasty surprise for anyone who came after him. I needed the credits so badly, I never considered that if C-Sec ever raided the place my work could cost them their lives.'

Milo reached up to squeeze her shoulder, his tone sympathetic. 'If you didn't, someone else would have. You were in a tough spot and you did what you had to just to get by.'

As his hand slipped from her suit, Lina realised everything she had told him so far was the truth. She was with C-Sec now, her dealings with Fist should have been a source of shame for her but with Milo, she knew she would not be judged.

Lina stared ahead, lost in memory. The wards held so many stories, so many tales of struggle and survival. They would never be known by those on the Presidium but here, in the streets, it was a way of life.

Her mind picked out details from the sleek walkways and brightly-lit kiosks. The scent of cooking meat was always strong and the hum of people coming and going never faded. In amongst the tangle of sensations, vivid recollections fuelled her words.

'For a quarian new to the Citadel, it's a challenge. For a quarian coming to the Citadel with nothing but the suit on her back…it's a game of survival. A single day is a battle just to feed yourself or avoid local gangs out for sport. In the end, things worked themselves out.'

Her pace slackened and Milo slowed, staying at her side.

'I'd been working for Fist for three months. I was hacking a set of shuttle VIs in the warehouse district out in Zakera when C-Sec came. I was taken into custody and the VIs seized. I thought for certain I was going back…I mean, going to prison.'

'But you're not there now?' Milo asked.

'No. Executor Pallin himself came to see me, intrigued by the young quarian girl Fist kept around. I guess the stories surrounding my work for him had spread further than I realised. I told him…'

She had told Pallin everything, Lina recalled, her head lowering at the thought of the old turian's mercy and understanding that day.

Pallin had sat with her in the interrogation room, nodding to himself as she recounted her childhood, her slavery, all that had happened to her up till that point. All she'd left out were the specifics. She had told him she'd been indentured to an engineering firm on Illium, not Synthetic Insights.

In hindsight, she was grateful that particular detail had been missed. Pallin may well have had her arrested once the news about Peak Ten came to light.

'I told him what he needed to hear, apparently,' she went on. 'A few days later Pallin approached me again offering a deal. I work for C-Sec as a tech specialist and consultant in the field of synthetic intelligence, or I go to a turian prison for the rest of my life. It wasn't much of an option, really.'

'Smart move. C-Sec gains an expert and you get to avoid prison. Win-win.'

'Perhaps,' she murmured. 'I've enjoyed the work well enough and since I was asked to join JSTF I've earned something of a reputation for myself. People no longer look down on me, or talk to me like something they've just scraped off their boot. In C-Sec, for the first time in my entire life, people respect me.'

Milo's voice was quiet, strangely awed by the woman beside him.

'Do you think you'll ever go back to the Migrant Fleet?'

That was an easy question. Lina shook her head.

'No. My people were never there for me to begin with and the only one I truly knew caused me nothing but suffering. I will never go back. There's nothing for me there.'

'You know, when all this is over you should come to Eden Prime with me. Spend a couple of weeks there on leave, unwind. I don't know why, but I think you'd enjoy it. Very peaceful, quiet, a good place to relax. You could certainly use it, after all you've been through.'

'So now you know what I'd enjoy?' Lina asked, fixing him with a look of affection.

Milo stared back at her, grinning. 'Just a hunch.'

'Thank you,' she said, returning her eyes to her front. 'I guess we really are becoming friends after all.'

The strings of citizens around them had thinned as they passed into a less populous part of the wards. There were no windows there, or at least none that offered a view of the space outside. This was the hidden heart of the Citadel, where the only light residents would see was that created by the station itself.

The pair fell quiet and the feeling of eyes on their backs returned stronger than before.

Neither dared to turn and to her consternation, Lina found her search for an ambush point interrupted by thoughts of Milo.

Speaking to him had yielded only more questions. Her position in C-Sec was an improvement, to be sure, but she was still bound there by her agreement with Pallin. Life had always imprisoned her in one way or another.

As her pulse started to quicken once more with the chase, Lina wondered if she would ever be truly free.

~~~ME-I~~~

General Victus frowned as the chaos around him continued.

The crew shouted across to one another while runners darted back and forth, their voices raised against the din. The dreadnought was massive, a kilometre in length, Victus reminded himself ruefully. Men could only travel so quickly.

He could only thank the designers who had the foresight to allow the manual opening of most doors throughout the ship. Like everything else, the Ascension's internal communications were down and the only way to get messages across was man to man.

Frowning, the old turian corrected himself. No, the comms weren't down. They were working. Everything was still working. The engines were still running, carrying them forward, still powered by the functioning drive core. The GARDIAN batteries and LADAR arrays were fully operational but they simply couldn't use them.

It was as if they had been locked out of their own ship, able only to watch as it went on with a mind of its own.

Captain Antulia stood nearby, doing his best to issue calm orders to his officers. Victus watched his brow plates twitch every few seconds, the only sign of his distress.

'And we can't respond?' he asked his Signals Officer.

The other turian shook his head lamentably. 'No, Sir. We're receiving flash-priority messages by the second from the rest of the battle group, all wondering why we're not keeping formation. Our silence is going to have them scratching their heads but they'll realise something's wrong soon enough. In the meantime we're trying to come up with alternative methods of communication.'

'Such as?'

The officer shrugged. 'Without access to the comm relays, we might as well hold up signs against the windows and pray they fly close enough to see them.'

Antulia made a low clicking in the back of his throat and Victus shared his frustration.

The situation was growing dire. Without the ability to contact the rest of the battle group, the other vessels could well fear a hijacking or even worse, a mutiny. Turian military doctrine preached harsh responses to both.

Antulia's Executive Officer slid to a halt before him and saluted roughly.

'Sir, news from the flight deck. Shuttles are operational but we can't get the hangar doors open. If worst comes to worst, the engineers can cut a hole big enough to send out one or two but they'll be working in vacuum.'

His voice quietened with trepidation. 'With things the way they are, there's no way we'll be able to guarantee air refill, either. They'll have an hour or so at the most to work with. After that, the shuttle hangar will be completely out of action.'

'And evacuation will be impossible,' Antulia murmured, finishing the train of thought. 'So we either abandon ship and lose the Ascension, or risk getting a lone shuttle out there, trapping ourselves aboard.'

The choice was an impossible one, Victus knew but he looked on with pride as Antulia straightened, forcing strength into his voice.

'Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Keep monitoring the situation. I want to know the second something changes.'

'Yes, Sir,' the XO answered before rigidly turning on the spot and making his way from the CIC.

Antulia looked at Victus wearily, his mounting terror reflected in clear, glassy eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, or more likely apologise but Victus would not have him embarrassed, not in such a situation.

The general stepped forward, his eyes on the galaxy map that glowed in front of the command platform.

'I see our course has changed,' he remarked, surprised at his own calm.

'Aye, Sir,' Antulia confirmed, nodding. 'Guidance systems too are unresponsive and Navs has confirmed we're heading towards a mass relay.' His gaze flickered down for a second, as if reluctant to continue. 'It…it's not the closest relay either. We're heading straight for Relay 107.'

It was a familiar name and Victus' lips parted slightly. He needed to hear it from someone else.

'That's a very specific destination. Tell me, Captain. Where does that relay lead?'

Antulia swallowed hard. 'It links to Relay 217. Sir.'

It was little wonder the crew were so stricken with panic. Victus could only imagine the thoughts on the minds of the other captains in the battle group when they realised the Ascension's destination, if they had not already.

'Shanxi,' Victus murmured.

The name had to be said aloud, and even though the noise of the CIC continued undisturbed, Victus knew every man and woman in the room would now be feeling the same sickly fear as he did.

He looked at Antulia. 'How long?'

'At current speed, twenty minutes.'

Victus tried to think ahead, to anticipate the next course of action. It was clear now this was no accident, nor any ordinary malfunction. The Ascension was out of control and heading directly for a mass relay that led to a human colony, perhaps the most famous one by turian reckoning.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the dread that had engulfed the ship. They had twenty minutes to stop the Ascension. If they failed, he could not bring himself to imagine what would happen next.

~~~ME-I~~~

Krassus watched on the main screen as various images flashed up for all to see.

Orange-lined LADAR readouts followed external imaging displays, views of empty stars rendered in grainy black and white. There were no internal cameras inside the Ascension, nor any microphones with which to listen in on the panicked crew. All he had to go on was his knowledge that at that moment, the ship was out of their control and they would be doing all they could to try and wrest it back.

Their efforts would be futile, that much Krassus knew. The Jamestown Virus was absolute in its influence and went about its purpose with flawless efficiency. A flagship of the turian navy would possess powerful anti-virus suites which would be hard at work trying to dislodge it but the work would take hours, perhaps even more than a day as the AI adapted and fought against its own extinction with all the ferocity of a living creature.

It was a simple but stunning creation.

'How long?' he asked.

At his side, Varn was back to his usual self; utterly still and impossible to read.

'Twenty minutes,' Varn replied. 'The virus knows its mission but once through the relay, it may realise it has possession of one of the largest and most powerful ships in the fleet - and the free will to do what it wants with it.'

At that, Krassus grinned.

It had always been the obstacle of machine intelligence. As the thing became smarter, the more difficult it would be to control. Until now.

'We'll activate the Fusion Directives immediately on arrival,' he said. 'I will keep my hold on the virus until it is destroyed. There'll be more than enough time and when we're done, war with the humans will be unavoidable.'

He looked briefly at Varn, his eyes sparkling. 'It started thirty years ago with Shanxi. That is where it'll end.'

His Second seemed unaffected by the palpable excitement. 'Sir, I suggest waiting until we're closer to the colony before activating weapons systems. I'm concerned the battle group will open fire if they realise the Ascension is going to attack.'

'Of course,' Krassus replied with a nod. It was good to hear the tribune was still thinking clearly. 'For now though, they still seem appropriately confused. If we can drag a few more of them into the inevitable response from Arcturus, all the better. How are the preparations going for the evacuation?'

'Smoothly, Sir. Second and third centuries are loading all essential equipment and supplies for the journey back to Palaven and our sympathisers in the navy have supplied us with patrol movements along our path. As soon as we're done with Shanxi, we will be safe behind the Hierarchy's walls and they won't even know it.'

'And when the war comes they may even welcome us as heroes.' Krassus grunted, knowing he was being fanciful.

He looked into Varn's yellow eyes. 'And the Kryik boy?'

'He's in no state to resist. His guards are on their way to move him as we speak, though…'

Varn hesitated and Krassus picked up on it. 'What it is, Avitus?'

The tribune began again, slowly. 'Sir, I'm not sure he can be trusted. He's as stubborn as his father was but has far more sense. He might just tell us what we want to hear and break free later.'

Krassus considered this as his head slowly turned back to the main screen.

'There is always risk, Avitus, but no more than with all the others I've taken into our ranks. You will just have to trust that I will know if he's lying. If he betrays us, or if he doesn't submit, he will die. It's that simple.'

'I hope so, Sir,' Varn said, hiding his doubt behind a grim mask.

As the screen ahead continued to fill with information, a stern-faced Legionary entered the room, a large black case in his hands. Carefully, he carried it to an empty desk and opened it. Krassus watched and after a few moments the Legionary strode up to him, saluting rigidly.

'The apparatus has been synchronised with the AI?' Krassus enquired.

'Yes, Sir,' the soldier replied. 'All you need to do is put it on when the time comes.'

Krassus looked down at the device. Project Deimos in Peak Ten had produced a single successful application of their research and it was in his hands.

It was a small grey targeting visor, designed to embrace both temples and project a display over the eyes. It was a turian marksmanship aid, adapted by his techs to serve a very different purpose.

In twenty minutes, he would put it to the test.

~~~ME-I~~~

At last, Lina's pace slowed.

They had come out onto a bridge overlooking a massive traffic tunnel. Far below, hundreds of cars flew past in blurs of dark blue and red while holographic billboards lined the vast walls, images of dancing asari flickering as they moved in time with an invisible beat.

It was a staggering sight but neither Lina nor Milo took any notice of it as they strained their eyes and cocked their heads back the way they came.

'Do you think we lost him?' Milo said between heavy breaths.

They had been careful to maintain a healthy distance between themselves and their pursuer, though doing so was more exhausting than either of them had imagined. Their tension was like smog in the air, their eyes wide and unblinking as they worried their traitor was gone for good.

Though she had stopped, Lina could not relax. Her head moved from side to side, twitching around before she wandered to the side of the bridge and looked over the area.

She saw a series of dark slits in the tunnel walls far off to the right, windows for some distant path, perhaps. They were not close enough to be useful to her but still, this bridge was narrow enough and at the end she could make out several dark alcoves, pools of shadow easily capable of hiding a human or quarian.

'Keelah, I hope not,' she finally replied. 'An ambush isn't worth much if the prey doesn't fall into it.' Her eyes returned to the alcoves and she knew they had to make a decision. 'The question is; who's going to be the bait?'

'I'll sneak up on this guy and take him down,' Milo said immediately. 'I'm bigger than you and although I don't want to test the theory right now, I'm willing to bet I'm a little stronger.'

He knew Lina would object and raised his hand, silencing her pre-emptively. 'I'm not going to argue with you on this, Lina. It's the more dangerous job and you've had your share of danger this week. It's time to let someone else do some of the work.'

Lina did not know what to say. Though her heart was a driving, relentless force inside her chest, practicality took hold. She knew she would be no match for a turian in terms of physical strength and in any case, it was likely her the man was following to begin with.

Still, Milo's selflessness was a heavy thing to bear for someone unused to kindness. As before, when Arlen had decided to trust her, knowing she had participated in the development of the Jamestown Virus itself, it was almost too much to take.

She whispered quietly, the words almost lost in the drones of shuttles.

'I don't know what to say.'

Milo smiled at her. 'You can thank me when this works, okay? For now there's something I'd like to know, before we do anything.'

He stepped across to the edge of the bridge and leaned over the waist-high railing.

'Can you tell me what happened with Lorica? What she said?'

Lina shook her head. 'We don't have time. Whoever's following us could be here at any moment and I-'

Milo grasped her arm, gently but firmly, his eyes pleading.

'Please,' he said. 'I have to know. If something happens to either of us, if something happens to me, I couldn't take not knowing for sure.'

Sighing, Lina looked down at the ground. She wanted to tell him to stop being stupid but the words wouldn't come.

'I…' she sputtered reluctantly, 'I discovered the truth, Milo. She wasn't involved in any of it, it was just a misunderstanding.'

Milo raised an eyebrow. 'Is that it? What about the disappearances? The cold shoulders?'

Lina's mind raced as she realised she couldn't reveal Lorica's identity as Internal Affairs, no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she settled for a portion of the truth, at the very least.

'Lorica was jealous,' she said with a shrug. 'She loves you, Milo and with the pressure we've all been under, with the two of us having to spend so much time together, Lorica just took it all a little badly. She knows it got out of hand and trust me when I say that she's sorry.'

Lina raised her head and looked into Milo's eyes, her heart aching as she gave him up for good.

'When this is over, you two will be happy together.'

'That's all there is to it?'

Nodding, Lina kept her voice even. 'Yes, that's all there is to it.'

He smiled gratefully. 'Thanks. I needed to hear that.'

Suddenly, a bright light flashed in Lina's visor. She frowned, unable to comprehend it.

Then the pain began.

It was a fierce, sharp spike that quickly spread through the rest of her body and she clutched a hand to her stomach, her eyes widening in shock as it came away covered in blood.

The world was quiet, the moment isolated and Lina fell slowly, her arms spreading as she spiralled down.

She hadn't noticed Milo was carrying the pistol before but now she thought about it, it had always been there. It never seemed unusual. He was C-Sec, after all and they all had the right to carry sidearms.

He held it at his hip, the smile still on his face, now touched with regret as the quarian dropped to the ground with a muted thump.

'I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I didn't want it turn out this way, honestly, I didn't.'

'You…' Lina whispered as she stared up at him. 'You were the double agent?'

Milo's lips twisted but his eyes were cold and uncaring, empty of the charm and mischief Lina had come to expect.

'Yes. Always have been, ever since they first came to me so many years ago. Even before I picked another face, I was their man.'

'Who? Who are you…working for?'

'A group of men and women more powerful than you can imagine,' he replied, his pistol resting in line with Lina's visor. 'They took me under their wing, showed me how to move unseen, remain hidden, even offered to make me one of them when the time came.'

Something glinted in Milo's gaze and his voice grew hungry. 'You can't understand, Lina, not until you hear their song, their…beautiful words. They know what'll happen, how things will end and only by siding with them will I be spared.'

Lina closed her eyes and clenched her jaw against the agony wrapped around her stomach. The shot had pierced her suit and for the first time that she could remember, she felt the air on her body. It was unpleasant, the blood on her skin cooling even as it pumped viscously from her wound.

The tunnel above her stretched into darkness, fitting the chill that now took its grip. Her mouth-lamp flickered weakly.

'Why?' she asked.

She didn't understand. The man who had been at her side, who had been so solid and dependable even when the galaxy had turned on her was no longer there. In his place stood a stranger, who only gazed at her without feeling or remorse.

Milo lowered into a crouch and tapped the barrel of his weapon lightly against the glass of her helmet.

'Don't ask why. It really doesn't matter. In less than forty-eight hours everything will be ready, all our preparations complete. The Council will pay for what they did to our brothers long ago and in the chaos that will follow, the galaxy will come apart at the seams. The League will rise in the new age and I'll be there, watching at their side. It'll be worth all this. In less than two days, Yanus will bring about the end of everything you know.'

He leaned in closer and Lina watched helplessly as his face became clouded, his breath misting on her visor.

'That's what I tell myself. That all this lying, this killing, it'll be worth it in the end. You're a good person, Lina, a strong person. Lorica too. It's fortunate she doesn't know anything about what's really going on. If your answer had been different I'd have been forced to go back and tie up that loose end. Again, thank you for that. Killing one good person is hard enough.'

Lina's gaze became dull and Milo stood, stretching out the pistol in front of him.

'Goodbye, Lina.'

The shot sounded, a snap of thunder that rumbled through the tunnel.

Milo stumbled forward, as if pushed from behind and Lina blinked as her helmet was coated with a spatter of dark red.

Milo looked confused for a moment, then his features scrunched in pain and he clutched a hand to his chest. Blood poured from between his fingers and he gasped for air.

The Citadel fell silent as he looked into Lina's eyes.

His lips moved but Lina couldn't hear anything. The numbing chill that had settled on her body had reduced everything to base sensations. She vaguely sensed someone running over to them from the end of the bridge but she focused the last of her strength on Milo.

Her fingers twitched as he staggered back and toppled over the edge of the bridge, lost to her in an instant. The sight hurt Lina far more than anything else at that moment and she let her eyes close, unwilling to see any more.

In the final moments, as the quarian's sight faded to a mass of shifting grey shapes, she saw Garrus arrive at her side, breathless.

The barrel of his Mantis rifle smoked as he knelt beside her, a frantic expression on his face.

'Damn!' he cursed as he saw Lina's eyes close. 'Come on, don't give up! Come on, Lina!'

He swore again under his breath.

'Don't die on me!'

~~~ME-I~~~

Legionary Tellan walked quickly, the soles of his boots scuffing noisily on the stone beneath. There was no activity on the basement level of the Legion compound and all sound carried down the cold, dank corridors.

Tellan was still hot after being forced to change into full armour for the evacuation and his temper was foul. They had all been faced with the order, of course, though instead of helping his squad with the carrying of equipment he'd been given the relatively easy job of escorting the Legion's latest prisoner.

It was affront to his experience and Tellan swore, though it came out as a simple hiss through his helmet respirator. He'd served five years in the army before joining the Legion and yet they still saw fit to grant him the crap jobs, just because he was a newcomer.

'Come on,' he snapped, 'keep up or I'm leaving you behind!'

It did not help that Tellan had been paired with another new guy for the task, one who knew his way around even less well than Tellan did.

The other had not spoken since they were left alone together and perhaps that was why Tellan disliked him. He hadn't even been bothered to introduce himself.

As expected, the other man simply shrugged silently and Tellan felt his blood boil. Such disrespect deserved a beating in the dark hours but he couldn't let himself get distracted by such thoughts. It was not far to the cells and as soon the job was done he could be away and back with his century.

The metal door squealed harshly as it opened, making Tellan cringe.

The cell was a miserable cube of filthy grey rock, with a single bed and latrine lining the far wall. His eyes fastened on the still form at their feet.

It was a fellow turian, a young one by what he could gather but the boy's age was concealed by patches of blood and bruises. It seemed no inch of his body was unmarked in some way and the sight made Tellan swallow dryly. Centurion Tacitus had been busy with this one.

'Get him on his feet,' Tellan ordered and was relieved to see the new guy nod and make his way over. Tellan had half-expected the instruction to be ignored and the last thing he wanted was to have an argument when there was work to be done.

Then something caught his eye.

Frowning, Tellan's gaze travelled to the bed. It was oddly askew, the metal frame dipping ever so slightly to one-

He took in a deep breath and prepared to shout but it was too late.

With a sudden blur of movement, the prisoner swept out the iron bar, a leg wrenched from the frame of the bed, and knocked Tellan's companion onto his back.

Tellan stood for a moment, paralysed with indecision. His finger grasped for the trigger of his rifle out of instinct but this was the general's prisoner and had been kept alive for a reason. His death could mean punishment.

~~~ME-I~~~

Arlen read the guard's hesitation and leapt to his feet, stumbling slightly as his wounds jarred.

The man came to his senses and raised his rifle but Arlen was close enough. He flicked out the bar, catching the rifle's barrel and pushing it aside.

His foe cursed loudly as his finger slipped away from the trigger and Arlen leaned in, grasping his arm and breaking it at the elbow. The guard howled in pain but the sound was cut off in an instant with a sharp, splintering crack.

Arlen stepped away and let the guard's body fall lifelessly, the metal bar sticking crudely out of his visor.

The other man had risen to his feet and Arlen moved instantly, grabbing his armour by the collar.

'Wait!'

The voice brought Arlen's fist to a halt. It wavered, clenched in the air. He peered at the guard, green eyes shining cautiously through lids made dark with blood. The voice was familiar.

'It's me, kid!'

Arlen released a breath. Grudgingly, he let go of the guard, who staggered back before pulling off his helmet.

Sergeant Heiros panted, more with relief than exhaustion. 'Spirits be damned, boy, I've never seen anybody fight like that! I knew there was something about 'ya back on Noveria, I freaking knew it!'

The world came back to Arlen gradually. Sound again began to filter back into his ears and the taste of metal crept back onto his tongue. He glared at Heiros intensely, unwilling to trust anything at that time, least of all his own eyes.

'How did you survive?' Arlen asked. His voice was dark and hoarse with pain.

Heiros' reply was unsteady, the old turian unnerved by the gore-drenched figure in front of him.

'I got tagged back at the shuttle crash. I don't even remember passing out but they found me and patched me up. They stuck me in a cell but I managed to get out this morning.'

Arlen's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'How?'

'Same way you did. They sent a single man, a young hothead to pick me up. Guess they figured an old man like me wouldn't cause any trouble but the young idiot didn't have his helmet on.' He smiled proudly. 'Only took one punch. Guess I never lost it.'

'And they haven't realised someone's missing yet?'

Heiros jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. 'Everything's crazy out there. They're packin' up, leavin'. They'll know something's up eventually though, and that's why we gotta get the hell out while we can!'

Shaking his head, Arlen limped to the guard lying dead on the ground.

'I still have a job to do.'

'What's that, kid?' Heiros scoffed. 'Cleanin' the latrines? In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a hostile friggin' zone here! There's hundreds of these nut jobs runnin' around and you're talkin' about stayin'? You touched in the head or somethin'?'

'I don't have to explain it!' Arlen snapped, his temper fraying. 'You have the disguise, you can source a shuttle, some kind of transport.'

Heiros brought up his hands defensively. 'Whoa there, kid. I ain't doin' nothin' until I know what you're up to. All I'm seein' is a young fool who wants to get himself killed for no good reason.'

Shutting his eyes, Arlen tried to control himself but his patience was thin, made weak by injury and panic. He sucked in wheezing breaths through his crushed nostrils and focused.

He knew this was his only chance and he spoke to Heiros again, his voice soft.

'I work for Citadel Security, Sergeant. I'm an Interceptor, an agent responsible for apprehending men wanted by the C-Sec.' He nodded beyond the cell walls. 'The man I'm after is General Jardan Krassus, the leader of this terrorist cell. Did you hear about the destruction of a human passenger ship a week ago? The Jamestown?'

Heiros nodded, his mandibles parting slightly as he digested Arlen's revelation.

Arlen continued. 'These are the people responsible. I have to complete my mission or all those humans who died will have done so for nothing. Not only that but they're in the middle of mounting another attack. If they succeed…'

'Then we're screwed,' Heiros finished. He looked aside, overcome with a stunning mix of awe and terror. 'By the buggering spirits, what have I gotten myself into…?'

The old man started as Arlen clasped him on the shoulder.

'I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Sergeant, honestly I am but I need your help. I surrendered because I had a feeling they'd rather take me prisoner than kill me. It was my only shot at getting in alone and I was right.'

'Why alone? You got some kind of death wish?'

Shaking his head, Arlen's eyelids dropped for a moment. 'I'm not the only one here, on this planet. There are others, humans. They want Krassus for what he did to their people. I can't let them get to him first or my mission will be a failure.'

Heiros raised a hand to his brow and massaged it roughly. 'I can't believe I'm hearing this. Listen to yourself, boy! This is an impossible situation! It's just you and me against a whole damn army! Let the humans have this Krassus guy. If what you said is true then it sounds like no more than what he deserves.'

'It's not about what he deserves, it's…'

Arlen's legs buckled in a moment of weakness and Heiros stepped forward to hold him steady.

Arlen's mouth moved silently as all of his thoughts and contemplations came to the fore. He felt the sting of disloyalty in the words he considered but they were the truth, one he had discovered after a week of battle, torment and survival. He felt his old training tug at the back of his tongue but he ignored it, his mind made up.

'I know, all right?' he said. 'I know the humans have a rightful claim to Krassus. They should be the ones to take him in and claim a measure of vengeance for all the pain he's inflicted on their people. I haven't known their kind long but…I know them well enough.'

The thought of Keller was like a warm torch in the dark for him, and he met Heiros' gaze again, steadily.

'But I'll never run away from my duty, do you understand? Just as the humans will do what they do, so will I. I'm a turian, and I won't fail.' His head tilted towards the cell door. 'You've made your decision. If you want to go then go, I won't stop you. But I'm moving on, with or without your help.'

Heiros could only stare blankly at the blood-drenched young man as his mouth worked, trying to find something to say but Arlen' eyes were like iron, unflinching and rigid.

With a quick glance at the fallen Legionary to his side, Heiros sighed. 'I guess if anybody can do this it's you,' he said.

He let go of Arlen as strength returned to his legs.

'You know, I'm never one to shirk a little hard work and I ain't no coward. I just…' He flinched slightly, as if the words stung him. 'I got a family, I told you that, right? Back on Palaven. A son, Maela…my wife. She's a beautiful woman, strong, caring, can't imagine what she sees in a stiff like me.'

As he straightened, Arlen's features softened as he watched long-suppressed fear leach from Heiros, thoughts that the old man had to get off his chest before the end. Arlen understood, and he listened as Heiros' lips quivered.

'I…I want to see them again, you understand? I can't die here, can't leave 'em wonderin' what happened to me. That's why I didn't stay on for extended service in the legions. I've done enough, I've put in my time. I can't leave them alone.'

The remark seemed to take some of the breath from Arlen's lungs and he nodded slowly.

'I…your son…he's lucky to have a father like you.'

'I'm the lucky one. That's why I'd like to stay lucky.'

Reaching out, Arlen clapped a hand on the sergeant's shoulder once more. 'You're not going to die. I just need an escape route. You get to wherever it is they keep their shuttles and I'll signal you when I have Krassus. If we stick together we're more likely to get noticed anyway.'

Heiros grunted. 'It's a crap plan but it's the best we got. What if somethin' goes wrong?'

'Give me one hour,' Arlen replied with as much certainty as he could. 'Either this happens fast or it doesn't happen at all. I'll take this guard's uniform as a disguise.'

He nodded down at the dead turian and a frown flickered across his face.

'But I'll need a new helmet.'

Heiros gripped his own protectively, sensing Arlen's thoughts. There was only one helmet between them and each man needed it equally.

Arlen shook his head. 'I'll think of something. I'll also need a weapon.'

'Here.' Heiros turned to pull out a sidearm from his armour's holster and offered the pistol to Arlen. 'I prefer the rifle, myself.'

Arlen looked with distaste at the weapon in Heiros' hand. It was an enormous pistol, likely a private weapon owned by the original wearer of Heiros' armour. Certainly, Arlen had never seen it before in the military.

It was a blocky construction of dull grey, striped with garish red paint that had flaked off in most places. He took it by the grip and his arm sank, unprepared for the enormous weight.

'I'm supposed to fire this thing? I can barely lift it,' he grumbled. Tilting it to one side, he read aloud the name stamped into the body. 'Carnifex. Huh…well, at least the name fits.'