MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR
*Episode Thirty-Eight*
Krassus could almost taste the fear in the turian battle group as a dozen messages were relayed fruitlessly to the Ascension minutes before it entered the mass relay.
Though it was little more than scrawls of bright numbers and letters, their panic could be read in the signals thrown between each ship, all the way down the line from carrier to frigate. Confusion was rife, as Krassus knew it would be and it paralysed them all with indecision.
The very moment the Ascension entered Relay 217, the battle group had stalled, unwilling to go any further and risk interstellar war.
At this, Krassus frowned pensively. He'd hoped they would follow their lost dreadnought through to Shanxi but it seemed his people had lost their nerve since his day.
He knew if he was commanding the battle group he would go through the relay regardless of what the humans would make of it. He would impose his presence and dare the humans to retaliate, knowing they would steer well clear until his business was complete.
Such weakness, such hesitance only firmed his resolve in the Legion's cause.
War would come now whether the Primarch liked it or not and the turian race would have to find its former strength, no matter how little of it was left to find.
'Sir?'
Krassus glanced at a nearby optio, who held out the Fusion device with steady hands.
'The Ascension has cleared the relay. It's time.'
Nodding, the general took the visor and turned it over in his hands. It was a sinister-looking thing, and as he thumbed a button on the side, several needle-like protrusions emerged from the bulk of the device.
Krassus swallowed hard as he realised they would be in line with the folds above his brow plates and his mind filled with fearful images of the vicious points burrowing into his skull.
'This has never been fully tested until now,' he murmured.
Still at his side, Varn answered. 'I am here if you need me, Sir. I'll gladly test it.'
Krassus smiled at such loyalty. 'That won't be necessary, Avitus. We cannot fail now, and if something should happen to me, you will lead the Legion well in the coming war. I know it.'
'Yes, Sir,' Varn confirmed solemnly. He dipped his head, visibly searching for the right words for the moment. In the end, there was only the same motto that had carried them all to this point.
'For the glory of the Legion, Sir.'
'For the glory of the Legion,' Krassus repeated.
Sniffing, he cast all of his doubts aside as best he could and slipped the apparatus onto his head. The device clamped onto his temples instantly, gripping his flesh. An amber display spread out between the two halves, a warm band over his eyes that filled with rivers of incomprehensible data.
Krassus grunted as the needles shot into his head but the pain was fleeting. Within seconds, his flesh became numb and his mind was overcome with noise.
It was like waking suddenly in a strange, loud place and Krassus ground his teeth as the noise intensified.
The display before his eyes became awash with pictures, colours and shapes. He saw a ship, the Ascension perhaps, but it was as if viewed from a dream. He could not focus on any one thing with his sight. It was thought that mattered.
The virus, the AI, was linked directly to his consciousness and his own will shaped it and made it move. He tested it, probing the ocean of light and sound and it rippled in response to his curiosity.
He asked it a question and it answered immediately. He bade it kneel and it did so.
Smiling, Krassus revelled in the control he now had. He could not see the ship, but he knew it was his. He felt the power and it was glorious.
Through the virus he felt the Ascension as an extension of his own body, something that responded to his every thought. Simply by willing it, he could overload the drive core and tear the ship apart if he so chose. Every inch of his body held a life of its own, one that could be extinguished at a whim with a simple venting of the compartment's atmosphere.
There was resistance, as Avitus had predicted.
The AI was angry with Krassus. It wanted to remain independent and free of his influence. He felt the heat of its fury at his intrusion but it was a childish tantrum, ineffectual and ultimately pointless.
Krassus was a part of it now. He was its master and it would obey.
Outside the swirling mass of thought, the men of the Legion looked on in awe as their general flexed a fist and in response, the main screen flashed brightly.
The dreadnought's weapons were now online.
The Ascension belonged to Krassus.
~~~ME-I~~~
Captain Antulia lowered his voice and Victus noticed the moisture that bathed the flesh of the man's neck.
'With respect, Sir, I can't let you do that. This is my ship and I won't have it be the final resting place of General Adrien Victus.'
'Your devotion to my safety,' the general quirked a smile, 'and my choice of grave, is noted, Captain. But I'm just an old soldier, one with too many memories of this place as it is.'
Victus gazed out onto the tiny planet ahead, his voice barely a murmur.
'Thirty years ago, when I was a snot-nosed boy in the Seventh, a general led us all to a war we would come to regret. It's only fitting that another turian general gives his life to stop the same thing happening again.'
Antulia swayed gently on the spot as he tried to think of something, anything that could change Victus' mind. Nothing came and after a few moments, he nodded.
'As you wish, Sir. I will begin the evacuation immediately.'
'Good man.'
Victus gazed out again on Shanxi, noting with quiet alarm the number of human ships now visible, over a dozen white specks littering the space between the planet and the Ascension.
They had nothing bigger than a frigate, however. While their anti-ship lasers and missiles would damage the turian dreadnought severely, if the Ascension chose to it could cleave a path right through them. Certainly, they would not be able to stop her.
Victus held the thought in his head as he addressed Antulia again. 'The way is clear? I only have to close the blast door?'
Again, the captain struggled to answer. 'Aye, Sir. The emergency containment door is one of several lining the inner barrel of the Ascension's main gun. It was designed to be closed manually in a crisis, even with total loss of power. It's heavy and you'll struggle to close it by yourself but it is possible.'
'And the door will block the path of the warhead as it leaves the chamber,' Victus continued, still staring into space. He released a quiet sigh. 'Hopefully the blast will be enough to render the gun useless afterwards.'
'More likely it will tear the ship apart,' Antulia said with a grimace. He leaned closer to Victus, unable to contain his doubts any longer. 'Sir, there must be another way. I implore you, let me go in your place. It's a captain's duty to go down with his ship.'
Victus smiled without meeting his eyes. It had been the general who had anticipated the Ascension's weapons would come online in the first place.
It had been obvious. Their destination was too exact to be a coincidence and by the time the ship's guns had begun to warm up he had finalised his plan to sabotage them. It would only take one man but time was short. The crew had to leave now, before it was too late.
'I've made my decision,' he said, finally turning to face Antulia. His eyes were hard and the captain knew then Victus would not be argued with. 'You will evacuate with the others and I will close the blast door. Is that clear, Captain?'
Biting on the last of his defiance, Antulia bobbed his head gravely and saluted, his limbs stiff.
'Clear, Sir. I'll give the word to begin the evacuation at once. You'd better get moving down to the gun deck if you want to get there in time, the Ascension is almost within range.'
Antulia turned on the spot and took a halting step before pausing. His expression shifted before he glanced at Victus over his shoulder.
'Thank you, Sir. I'll see to it this sacrifice will forever be remembered by our people.'
Victus shook his head. 'I don't care if it's remembered. I just want it to work.'
The comment made Antulia blink in surprise, and as he gave a final nod Victus wondered why it made him want to laugh. Perhaps it was the simple familiarity of death, or that his career would end in such a manner. He thought of his many critics, and hoped they would be just as scathing of his death as they were of all the decisions he'd made up to that point.
The idea had Victus smiling wistfully as he left the CIC and began the long journey to the Ascension's main gun.
~~~ME-I~~~
The office of Centurion Tacitus was as austere as the cells he watched over, with only bare stone walls and a single desk to set it apart. The tools of his grim trade were packed neatly in a box next to an old terminal, out of the way and yet still within easy reach.
Tacitus grumbled to himself as he prodded at his terminal display, swiping aside line after line of orange-hued message screens.
The Legion was preparing to leave the miserable planet of Zorya, and not a moment too soon, in Tacitus' opinion. Besides the insects, the wild varren and the humidity there were just too few bars in which he could drown his boredom.
He ached for the simple days on Palaven, where he could lose himself in a brothel or two on weekends. By comparison, Zorya was soldiering at its purest; and therefore most dull.
Still, it wasn't all bad, the centurion thought to himself with a grunt. The past few days had brought an energy to the place that had been sorely lacking of late. Since Tribune Varn had returned from wherever he'd disappeared to, and with the capture of the C-Sec boy things had even gotten exciting.
Frowning, Tacitus broke his relentless glare at the terminal and his lips flicked upwards irately. The two morons he'd sent to retrieve the Kryik lad should have been back by now and he swore if he had to come looking for them there'd be hell to pay.
A scuffling noise caught his ear and he growled over his shoulder. 'You took your sweet time! Hurry up and get him-'
'Sorry,' spoke a young voice, and Tacitus froze at the touch of a weapon on the back of his neck. 'Change of plan.'
~~~ME-I~~~
'Where's my gear?' Arlen asked.
He was desperate to get his omni-tool back and link up with Petra and he made no effort to hide it. He pressed the Carnifex's barrel sharply into Tacitus' neck plates, making the centurion cringe.
'Tell me now,' Arlen hissed, 'or I'll make do with yours.'
Tacitus snorted. 'If you fire that weapon every man in this compound will hear it.'
'I don't need to fire it,' Arlen whispered harshly. He brought the heavy pistol down like a club against the bare neck and Tacitus grunted in pain.
Arlen staggered suddenly as Tacitus kicked out his legs, forcing his chair back hard. The force of the impact sent Arlen stumbling and Tacitus quickly took advantage as he pushed himself out of the seat and threw open the box of tools on his desk.
When Arlen looked up, the bulky centurion was brandishing a wicked curved knife that glinted with every small movement.
Tacitus sprang forward and the blade licked out in silvery flashes. Arlen moved his head aside, reading the thrusts neatly and he struck out as Tacitus pulled back, catching him cleanly in the jaw with the Carnifex.
The blow rocked Tacitus back and he crashed into the desk, sending his equipment skittering across the ground in a series of metallic chimes. He did not take his eyes from Arlen however, and he straightened in time to meet a hard punch, blocking it with a forearm.
Their efforts thudded upon armour, a stalemate of loud cracks and grunts. Tacitus went at Arlen with the knife again, grinning cruelly. His swipes whistled through the air and he forced the Interceptor back once again.
Arlen tasted his own blood on his lips and could feel the flesh there swelling. The pain made him angry, fuelling his resolve as Tacitus hacked madly, with no sign of slowing.
Tacitus did not see Arlen's hand loop around the chair. The centurion's smile disappeared as a dark shape raced towards his head and he could do nothing to stop it.
The chair met his skull with a loud smash, and the entire thing shattered into pieces with the force of the blow. Tacitus cried aloud in confusion and fear, his eyes closed tightly as he stumbled back.
He was helpless against the hand that took his knife arm and broke it at the wrist. He did not scream, the agony instead hissing dully from his nostrils as the bones snapped. The knife fell from his grip to clatter on the ground.
Arlen felt a multitude of pains echo throughout his body and silently wondered how many wounds he'd taken in those frantic seconds without actually noticing.
He didn't have time to do the math. Tacitus' back hit the desk and Arlen took hold of his throat. Tacitus coughed against the pressure, blood spattering from his open mouth. He opened his eyes again to find Arlen staring back at him. There was no mercy in that gaze, not after everything he had put Arlen through.
Arlen saw his own features reflected in Tacitus' eyes. There was something in there, something dark and twisted, and a distant part of Arlen recoiled at the change he saw in himself.
It was a feeling easily quashed, however. The reality of Arlen's situation overrode all else and he moved to pick up a scalpel from the spilled contents of Tacitus' case.
'My equipment,' Arlen snarled. He pressed the point of the scalpel towards Tacitus' eye, his hand steady and his features gnarled with anger. 'Now!'
'I-it's being held in storage,' Tacitus stammered. The words were slurred and Arlen realised the man's jaw was broken. 'Take a right out of here and up the stairs, it's the first door on the left.'
Arlen blinked as he digested the information and it slowly dawned on him that he hadn't anticipated the torturer would break. His mind raced, wondering what he should do with the man.
It settled quickly, and Arlen firmed his mouth in distaste at what it compelled him to do.
In his mind, Arlen was thrown back into a dark, musty room. Explosions rattled the barricaded windows and shook dust from the ceiling, and the soft popping of gunfire was a constant presence. A batarian sat in an old chair, slumped over in pained misery. Olansi was there, a shard of glass in one hand.
He had argued, Arlen remembered. The salarian wanted to torture Bashik and kill him either way but Arlen had stopped him. Why? Why did he stop him? The reasons seemed childish to him now.
Arlen looked at Tacitus blankly, his hand gripping his throat, the scalpel so close to his flesh.
Olansi's words flashed through Arlen's head.
'This isn't a game, Interceptors! This is a mission, and it always, always stands on a knife's edge, ready for an act of weakness to sends it crashing down. Sooner or later, you'll have to takes that first step into this world!'
They repeated as Arlen's hand moved down, bringing the scalpel to Tacitus' throat. He couldn't let the man live. He was too dangerous and would expose Arlen immediately if he let him go.
Arlen closed his eyes. He did not want to see.
He felt the centurion thrash in his grip, suddenly wild with panic. The frenzied movements seemed to last forever as Arlen worked the blade until finally, the body beneath him grew still.
Arlen dropped the scalpel and forced his eyes open, turning deliberately away from Tacitus' slumping corpse as he did so. He brought his shaking hands up - two wet blue masses - and suppressed the sudden urge to vomit.
It had to be done, he repeated to himself as he fled the office. He had no choice.
He tried to summon Tacitus' directions above the thoughts of hot blood rushing over his fingers as he ran.
It did not work.
~~~ME-I~~~
The Ascension surged forward through the empty void, the planet before it growing steadily larger with each passing moment. It swam alone, a behemoth against the stars, and in its path sat a handful of Alliance ships.
They were resolute in their defiance, despite standing no chance against a ship of such overwhelming power.
Victus had taken one final look at them through a local viewing port before silently continuing his way through the ship. The place was odd without the crew there to fill its flats and compartments. Only the drone of air vents and distant hum of the drive core was present, while the constant smell of oil and machinery was unbroken by the sour tang of working bodies.
Victus clanged down a ladder onto the gun deck and emerged into a vast, cream-hued tunnel, its length dotted with pale yellow lights. A metal gantry ran along the walls and the path was lined with glowing haptic consoles.
This was the mass accelerator, the barrel of the Ascension's main gun. A kilometre in length, it ran through the ship, an entire vessel built around one weapon of unimaginable destructive power.
Victus moistened his lips as he stared to his right, at the ominous, pulsing blue light at the very end of the tunnel.
He had never before seen the effects of such a weapon on a planet. The practice was technically against Council law, forbidding the use of weapons of mass destruction against a garden world. It was during the Krogan Rebellions that a turian dreadnought had last fired on a planet and the results were devastating; not to mention permanent.
Oddly, Victus found his courage bolstered by that horrifying thought. He would not allow the same to happen to Shanxi.
Grunting, the old turian hefted his body over the gantry and stepped onto the surface of the tunnel. Victus held himself steady, though it was all too frightening to know he was standing inside the barrel of one of the largest weapons in the galaxy.
The ground beneath his feet vibrated gently, making the flesh beneath his armour tingle. Shutting out his discomfort, Victus made his way further down, to where a thick partition narrowly jutted from the tunnel walls.
This was it, this was the blast door that would foul the shot and destroy the Ascension.
He hesitated at the sheer size of it. Several large handles lay embedded in the edge but they seemed redundant. The door looked far too large for any one man to shift. A haptic panel flickered on its side but Victus didn't bother to try it. He knew it wouldn't work.
He looked down at his hands and flexed them in anticipation. The ship howled around him, the sounds of heavy machinery carried down the length of the cannon barrel until they became a single ghostly cry. It was a cold place to be, in more ways than one.
Breathing deeply, Victus took a firm grip on the handles and started to pull. He leaned back and bared his teeth, straining and groaning with the effort.
The blast door began to move, slowly, assisted by servos that responded to the movement independently. Victus wondered why they hadn't locked down but did not question his luck. He continued to pull, his strength buoyed by the sight of the massive slab of metal sliding across the tunnel's width.
Heavy steel whined as it ground against the floor, filling the empty space with its shriek. Victus spared a thought for Captain Antulia and his crew, now safely aboard the shuttles and making their way towards the colony. Hopefully the humans would see them and know something was amiss.
The captain would explain everything. Even if he was too late, the explosion as the dreadnought's warhead struck the blast door might just be enough to avert disaster.
The door manoeuvred itself into position over the last few feet as powerful guidance rails braced the enormous weight and eased it to a halt. Victus stepped inside at the last moment, sliding neatly out of the way before ensuring the seal was tight and free of obstruction.
As the great door fell silent, he leaned against it to catch his breath.
He had felt it as he worked; the vibrations were growing stronger beneath him. The shrill voice of an alarm started from beyond the tunnel walls and Victus turned to face the bright light at the end, his expression grim.
It pulsed and flared with energy, readying itself to release its deadly payload.
The alarms grew wild and Victus' heart raced. This was the end for him and his final thoughts were of his men, and one in particular.
'Tarquin,' he murmured, the word lost to the rumble of Ascension's main gun.
Victus blinked as his vision suddenly went black and everything fell silent.
He assumed death had taken him but he was still breathing, his chest still hurting from the force of his own pounding heart. He still tasted the salty terror-sweat that dripped from his upper lip.
He was alive, but how?
A single light appeared in the dark, then another. One by one, each of the tunnel lights appeared, spots of gentle yellow in the black. The tunnel around Victus lit up and the blast door behind him let out a chugging whir.
Frowning, Victus instinctively raised a hand to the door's haptic interface and the device chimed noisily, the buttons brightening under his touch.
'It's working?' he muttered to himself in disbelief. The ship must have rebooted its systems somehow.
He keyed in a few quick commands and the blast door groaned open.
'I don't believe it. It's actually working!'
Victus cast a nervous glance behind him and was relieved to see the gun was calm, the energy at it's end steady.
He could not fathom what was happening and so he focused on the one thing he could do.
Slipping through the gaps in the tunnel wall and back onto the gantry, he made his way back to the CIC. He could at least try and get a message out to the human ships and explain the situation.
As the pressure finally left him, Victus chuckled to himself.
He didn't know who or what had saved them but he thanked the spirits for their intervention.
~~~ME-I~~~
Krassus balled his hands into fists, clenching them tightly.
He was losing control.
He felt the Ascension slipping from his fingers, his senses emptying of the information and feedback of its sensors. He no longer felt the crew scurrying from it in panic or the warm excitement of the main gun as it was about to fire.
It was at that moment the darkness came. Now his mind was empty and black and he probed it desperately.
'Why?' he asked aloud. 'Why won't you listen, damn it?'
He wanted answers. The AI was not screaming in frustration like before. It was not cursing the general.
Now it was smiling. It knew what was going on.
'You have betrayed me, General.'
The AI's voice was chillingly familiar to Krassus. His heart sank and his reply was weak.
'Yanus?'
The AI had no face. Yanus never had a face. Yet in the darkness, a shape emerged. It was a mass of pulsating red lines of light, a mesh that shifted with every moment, yet never strayed too far from a distinctive shape.
It bore a keen resemblance to a salarian.
'You didn't think I would allow you the key to the most powerful weapon in the galaxy, did you? After everything that has happened?' Yanus asked, smiling. 'After all my generosity, after all my help and you scorn my orders, ignore them. And you think you would then be able to simply carry out this attack without my permission? You insult me, General.'
'The Fusion Directives,' Krassus said quietly, 'they were linked to you, weren't they? Right from the beginning? I never had control of the virus. It was…it was you all along.'
Yanus chuckled harshly. 'Of course. Though it was amusing, feeling your enthusiasm there for a moment, your hope. You actually believed you were going to pull it off. I could taste your excitement - and your disappointment.'
'You…' Krassus snarled. His bewilderment was quickly giving way to anger and it coursed through him, making his voice dark with rage. 'When I find you, Yanus, I'll cut your damned heart out, I swear it!'
'I highly doubt that,' Yanus replied calmly. The construct raised a hand dismissively. 'In fact, I think you have bigger concerns than me right now. It's time to return to the real world, General. Enjoy it while you can.'
Krassus closed his eyes as blinding white filled them and a screeching noise assailed his ears. He clenched his muscles in a spasm of discomfort and another voice broke through the glare.
'Sir?' he heard Varn say, his tribune's voice straining with worry. 'Sir, are you all right?'
The white light receded and Krassus was shocked to see Avitus standing over him, the ceiling just beyond. It took several moments for the general to realise he was laying on his back.
'What happened?' he rasped.
'You collapsed, Sir,' Varn answered sternly and nodded towards the main screen. 'Sir, what's going on? The Ascension is reporting full control over all their systems. The crew is on their way back to the ship as we speak and the humans are aiding them.'
'It was a trick,' Krassus mumbled, clasping a hand to his throbbing skull. 'Yanus had control of the virus, not me. He waited until the main gun was ready to fire and…'
Suddenly, Yanus' threat came back to him and Krassus looked around in panic.
'We have to get out of here. Have the men evacuate immediately!'
'But Sir, I-'
'Now, Avitus!' Krassus yelled as he scrambled to his feet. 'Now! That's an order!'
'Tribune Varn!' someone cried from across the room. Varn rounded on them immediately, furious at the interruption.
'What is it, Legionary?'
'Sir, our systems,' the young turian replied haltingly, fear getting the better of his tongue. 'They're not responding!'
The words were all too familiar, and Varn glanced back at Krassus, the two men finding the same, knowing terror in each other's eyes.
'It's Yanus,' Krassus said, confirming their fears. 'He's using the damn virus against us. He has control.'
'All of you, pack up and prepare to move out!' Varn snarled. 'On the double!'
As the tribune's voice rang out, Krassus looked beyond him, towards the window. He stepped towards it, for a moment unaware of all else around him.
The sun had begun to dip towards the mountains, bathing his features with gold, but the general's eyes were locked on what lay below.
The compound walls were ringed with heavy automatic guns, each capable of laying down a barrage of explosive shells with withering accuracy. Krassus' throat was achingly dry as he watched the nearest turret turn slowly towards the window.
He darted back and filled his lungs. 'Everybody out, now! Get-'
The explosion was a mass of sound and black dust. The wall blew out around Krassus and he felt himself carried along with it, pieces of stinging burning debris tearing at his skin all the way.
He hit the ground and was vaguely aware of being helped to his feet.
Varn shouted at him and Krassus blinked, trying to purge the weakness and shock from his system.
'We need to evacuate!' Varn shouted. 'Sir, can you hear me?'
Krassus nodded numbly. He could barely feel his limbs but was aware enough to speak.
'See to the evacuation, Avitus, we need shuttles in the air as soon as possible.'
Varn shook his head. 'With our defences in Yanus' hands, it won't be safe, Sir. Yanus will be able to shoot down any craft that attempts to leave. Get to your private quarters, it's the safest place for you right now. We can evacuate once the turrets are back under our control.'
'I'm not hiding while my men die,' Krassus growled. 'You know I can't do that!'
Varn ignored all vagaries of protocol and gripped his oldest friend by the shoulder.
'Please, Sir. I…we haven't come all this way just to see you get killed. If you die, the Legion dies with you. Please, Sir, just let us fight for you, now of all times. Allow me to make up for my mistakes.'
For a moment Krassus saw in Varn the same friend who had come to him when they had boarded the shuttles to escape Shanxi so many years ago.
They had stood, burning with humiliation and disbelief as Renius ordered them away, so many of their friends and brothers dead for nothing. Yet so many had lived, thanks to the man who would become their general himself one day.
Krassus saw the same awe in his tribune's eyes as back then and knew he could not deny him.
'Very well,' Krassus agreed with a slow nod. 'Get the job done, Tribune.'
Varn saluted and turned to give orders to the scrambling Legionaries.
After a final glance, General Krassus made his way to his private quarters. Located at the very top of the compound, he would be able to get a better view of the situation.
At that, Krassus grimaced painfully. It was a situation he could do nothing about but watch.
~~~ME-I~~~
'What the hell?' Jacob exclaimed.
The ground beneath him was still moist and dark, despite the heat of the afternoon and his elbows sank into it further as he adjusted his view through the rifle scope.
The narrow circle was filled with movement, but it was different than the steady, ordered rhythms of the past several hours.
Beyond the walls of the Legion compound, the turians were in full panic as they fought an enemy Jacob could not make out. He saw the smoke pouring from an out-building and in the same moment followed a string of tracer fire to a window in the main structure.
It was madness and his confusion was evident as he opened a comm channel.
'Five, you seeing this?' Jacob murmured into his suit radio.
'Sure am, Seven,' Chen replied. He was further along the ridge, out of sight. 'Who's crashed the party, though? I didn't see any ships land.'
'Not sure. Hold on.' Jacob adjusted his position and angled the scope elsewhere.
The Corsairs' Observation Post had been set up on a steep hill overlooking the Legion base. From such a vantage point it had been easy to remain hidden and watch the comings and goings of their enemy for an entire day, though it had been clear for a long time that the Legion was preparing to move out.
That had all changed in the last few minutes.
'Six, this is Seven,' Jacob said. 'I can't get a good line on what's causing the disturbance. Can you see anything?'
Hammond's voice crackled through. 'I think so, Seven but I don't think you'd believe me if I told you.'
Jacob narrowed his eyes as an explosion shook the ground, sending a ball of bright orange flame into the air beyond the walls and punishing the jungle air with a loud boom.
He listened carefully. Hammond was the squad's sniper and his perch was much higher than the rest, where he could put his heavy Widow rifle to good use.
'Try me, Six,' Jacob answered.
'I can see all four heavy turrets, one at each corner of the compound. They're all firing, that's where the explosions are coming from. Thing is, they're facing the wrong way.'
Sweat glistened on Jacob's dark brow as he frowned. 'The turrets are firing on their own people?'
'That's right.' The channel was filled with the crunching of leaves as Hammond shifted. 'As for the small arms fire, from what I can see it's coming from automated combat drones.'
'Drones,' Jacob repeated. 'The Legion's own defences are turning against them.'
His features still furrowed in confusion, he keyed the radio again.
'One, do you copy?'
'Solid copy,' Dukov intoned. 'We can take advantage of this. Six, confirm target is on the fourth floor of the main building?'
'That's correct, One. Target was moved after the first explosion. Third floor has been cleared from what I can see but estimate thirty to forty foot-mobiles between the south wall and the main building, with unknown number inside.'
'Copy, Six. Stay in position and provide cover fire. When we breach the wall, you're clear to take down as many as you can, out.'
Jacob felt new sweat begin on his back, trickling down the narrow strip of his spine as he rose into a crouch and made his way along the ridge line.
The jungle was loud with the sounds of war and yet it was strange not to feel the slugs whipping around him. Whoever, or whatever, the Legion was fighting it had given the Corsairs the chance they needed.
They would cut through the beleaguered turians and make straight for General Krassus.
Jacob felt optimism brighten his mood as he reached the assault point. Chen and Miller were already there, their expressions blank but Jacob could still see the pleased light in their eyes. They could not have hoped for a better chance than they had now.
~~~ME-I~~~
Garrus swore under his breath as the medigel he'd applied broke its seal and fresh red blood began to seep from Lina's wound.
Still, he could not stop, not when he was so close to JSTF.
The quarian's legs flopped in his grip and he shifted his aching hands to find a better purchase on her suit.
'Out of the way!' he yelled out as he pushed through the stunned C-sec officers in his path.
JSTF had its own medical facility but moreover it was the only place Garrus could guarantee Lina's safety. Now that Yanus' man in the organisation was dead, Garrus knew he could take her back for treatment, away from a public hospital where anyone could slip in and press a blade to her throat.
Still, he didn't remember having walked so far from the damned place.
'Come on, Lina,' he murmured, uncaring of whether she heard him or not. 'Don't give up. We're almost there.'
The long corridor joining C-Sec headquarters to JSTF was crossed in only seconds. Garrus felt the closeness of his destination and it gave him new energy, fuelling his sprint down the empty hall.
He reached the entry checkpoint and snapped an order to the guards.
'She's injured! Contact Chellick and get a medical team standing by, now!'
The nearest turian nodded and mumbled into his suit radio while the other reached over to cycle the airlock without hesitation. The door rumbled open and Garrus was through immediately, his breathing heavy as he watched dark blood pool in his arms, caught between Lina's body and his own.
A collective gasp went up from the JSTF staff as each caught sight of the limp body in Garrus' arms. Quiet murmurs filled the air and he pressed through to the edge of the room, ignoring the shocked stares and horrified faces. He almost bowled over a salarian who was too slow to respond, the spindly body tumbling as Garrus forced a path.
'Garrus!'
Garrus tilted his head to find Chellick nearby, waiting at the entrance to the side corridor that branched from the main room. The commander's expression was calm but Garrus knew him too well to trust it.
'How is she doing?' Chellick asked.
'Gunshot wound. She was alive the last time I checked but that was…it feels like a long time ago. The medigel didn't seal the wound.'
'We've got the emergency room set up,' Chellick offered, leading the way. 'Hopefully we're not too late to stop an infection but it's going to be touch and go.'
The corridor flitted past them, doors and lights that were just a blur in Garrus' vision. All he could feel was the weak flutter of life in his arms and the gnawing fear that at any moment, that life could disappear.
Chellick gestured to a door and it slide aside for Garrus, who blinked at the sight of an operating table flanked by nurses and doctors. It brought back memories of another woman laid on a hospital bed, her life ebbing away.
That had been his fault too, Garrus remembered with a wince.
Lina was gently taken from his arms and laid on the table, and the doctors began their work immediately, their gentle voices accompanied by the beeps of monitoring equipment.
Garrus felt compelled to stay but the images of I'Layna Naris were too strong for him.
His expression blank, he turned from Lina and made his way out of the room. Chellick's gaze followed and after a moment, he accompanied Garrus out.
The hallway outside was quiet. Garrus didn't like it. It left him alone with his thoughts and that was the last place he wanted to be. He felt his heart slow and his mind grow calmer but it was a deceitful peace. In the next room, a young woman fought for her life and the knowledge taunted him with throbbing whispers.
He hadn't noticed Chellick beside him, and he looked around in surprise as the commander's deep voice filled the corridor.
'All this time and Milo was the real traitor.' Garrus nodded slowly and Chellick sighed. 'There was nothing to indicate him as a sleeper agent. Nothing at all. He joined C-Sec years ago and all his credentials are as real as they get. He's been living his life normally, waiting for this one day to come.'
Garrus didn't respond. His eyes shifted beneath his visor, picking apart unseen thoughts.
He considered everything that had happened, from the very moment Arlen stepped into his office a week ago to the second he had pulled the trigger on Milo. So much had happened in that short time that he doubted it would ever stop seeming unbelievable.
Arlen.
For a brief moment, Garrus let his gaze fall to the ground. The only news they'd had was that the young Interceptor's shuttle had crashed on Noveria, with no reported survivors. Yet another life Yanus had claimed in his machinations.
Clearing his throat, Chellick continued. 'Strange, how a single day can make a difference in your life.'
Finally, Garrus looked up. Some part of him wanted to Chellick to shut up but he was too tired, in body and mind, to argue. All he could manage was a weak shrug.
'A day is all it takes, Chellick.'
'Yeah…' Chellick replied distantly. He paced the width of the corridor slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. 'If this day has taught me anything, it's my own capabilities. When this is over, I'm stepping down as JSTF commander.'
Garrus grunted softly. 'They'll probably stand you down anyway. You know that, right?'
'Don't be so sure.'
The response was neither smug nor defensive, and Garrus looked at Chellick in surprise. If anything, his words sounded regretful.
'There's no longer any evidence of the wrongful actions I've taken and any odd behaviour can be excused easily enough. Now our mole has been uncovered I'm in the clear and they won't look too closely at how things played out. Besides, Pallin may do things by the book but he's not stupid. He doesn't want the fact that C-Sec's most secretive high-security organisation was infiltrated by the enemy to escape into the media's hands.'
'Cover-up after cover-up,' Garrus murmured. 'If you do something right, they bury you in red tape. If you do something wrong, they conveniently forget you did it.'
'Comes with the job, Garrus.'
'Well this job isn't what it should be,' Garrus said venomously.
He thought back to only an hour ago, when he'd had the freedom to do things his own way, follow his own judgement. Now he felt C-Sec's regulations slipping back around his neck like a noose.
'Can you blame me, then?' asked Chellick. 'Can you really blame me for trying to get things done without going through every regulation in C-Sec's book? I got in a little over my head, yes. I thought I could play the game like I did down in the wards. I thought digging up the dirt on politicians and Councillors would be no different to the scum on the streets but…'
He paused and closed his eyes.
'I wasn't ready for the consequences. When a sand dealer disappears, you think anyone cares? No, of course not. But these people…they're not the same. I got desperate, I paid someone to rough up Udina but he went too far. I didn't know about Yanus, about STG…'
Chellick stopped suddenly. He stared at Garrus pleadingly and his fellow turian gave a bitter chuckle.
'I think the real irony is that if you hadn't covered up my involvement in I'Layna's death, I wouldn't have run into STG. Milo would have killed Lina back on that bridge and we wouldn't have known he was the traitor until it was too late. Yanus would still be in control.'
Chellick took a few deep, calming breaths before slumping, resting his back on the wall.
'I need to get out of here and back into my old office. I'll feel better when I'm chasing leads and putting the screws on informants. Intergalactic terrorism is just too…complicated.'
Garrus smiled mirthlessly. The former JSTF commander was not even listening to him, even as Garrus practically excused his actions.
Chellick's thick, sandy skin shone dimly and his eyes were distant. He had the look of a man who had come close to death and knew full well it was through his own actions.
Chellick was ready to go back to the C-Sec way of life but, to his surprise, Garrus only felt more determined to cast it aside. He wanted more.
Grunting, he turned from Chellick and wandered down the corridor.
'I'll be in the command centre, in case Lina's condition changes,' he called over his shoulder. 'Somebody's got to keep an eye on the place.'
'Son of a bitch,' Chellick cursed quietly under his breath.
Slowly, his mouth curled into a smile and his steps were light as he followed Garrus into the noise of the command centre once more.
It wasn't often a man got a second chance.
~~~ME-I~~~
Arlen rifled through the contents of the locker, his movements made frenzied by the sound of nearby rifle fire.
The entire complex had exploded into battle only a short time ago and he worked furiously, eager to retrieve his equipment before the fight found him.
Was it the Corsairs? He wondered how only a half dozen men could have the Legion dashing around in such confusion but he did not dwell on it. The chaos suited his purposes and it was with confidence that he shed his disguise. It was useless without a helmet anyway.
His own armour stood before him, neatly arrayed in the locker's compartments. Arlen ignored the searing pain on his skin as he stripped down and slid each piece of his suit into place, the C-Sec colours somehow inspiring him to look past his pain.
Blue and black panels slotted into place smoothly and with an appreciative nod, he secured the enormous Carnifex to his hip.
He did not waste time checking the seals, instead bringing up his omni-tool in a wash of orange.
'Petra? Petra, are you there?'
'Arlen!' the AI cried. 'What are you doing here? I thought for sure those bad men had…'
'I'm fine, really,' Arlen assured her, wincing as he felt a prickle of fresh blood on his brow, 'but something's wrong here. The Legion are fighting someone but it sounds like a force far bigger than the humans who brought me here. Can you find a wireless access point and see what's going on?'
'Of course,' she replied hurriedly, 'just hold on a second.'
The time ticked away in desperate moments. The fingers of Arlen's free hand rapped nervously against his armoured thigh and his head moved constantly, listening for the sound of approaching feet.
'All right,' Petra finally responded, 'I'm in. Wait. This is…'
Arlen stiffened as Petra's voice began to shake.
'Arlen, I can hear him again. The voice from Illium. He's here, he's…laughing, I…'
Arlen's stomach dropped as the realisation hit him.
'The Jamestown virus?'
'It's too loud!' Petra cried out. 'Please, please let me out! I can't think, can't hear!'
His hands moving in a flurry, Arlen quickly accessed his omni-tool's settings and disabled his remote connections.
Petra's voice still rasped through the speakers in weak, delirious murmurs, obscured as she panted heavily.
'Petra, are you okay?' Arlen asked. 'Answer me!'
'I'm…fine,' she replied hoarsely. 'Arlen, it's him, the same dark one as on Illium. He's taken control of the Legion's automated defences and is using them to wipe the Legion out. Krassus is upstairs, at the highest place. I can guide you but you must hurry!'
Setting off at a limping run, Arlen dashed down the empty corridor. The clamour of gunfire was stronger now and the air was punctured with sharp, explosive bangs that made his bones tingle.
He blinked sweat from his eyes every few seconds, the moisture always carrying with it a sickly blue stain. He came to a stairwell, hacked from the same stone as the sub levels and he crept upwards, not even bothering to count the number of floors he ascended. He knew Krassus was at the top and so he climbed.
Frenzied shouts lined his path and he tensed as heavy feet clattered above him.
He stretched the Carnifex out in front of his eyes. His arm shook with the weight but his aim did not have to be perfect.
Two Legionaries emerged from a corner above him, their rifles held down as they yelled their confusion at one another. They came to a shuddering halt at the sight of Arlen and the Interceptor fired immediately.
The Carnifex jumped in his hand, a snarling beast that roared in the narrow space. The slugs kicked the Legionaries to the ground contemptuously, their armour cracking open as if it were nothing.
Arlen blinked in astonishment. It had taken only one shot to fell each man, as if the pistol cared nothing for the heavy suits they wore. He was only dimly aware of the heating alarm that droned in his arm, and frowning, he tilted the Carnifex to one side.
Two shots had brought the weapon dangerously close to filling its heat sinks and another would have rendered it inoperable until it cooled down. He wondered if the weapon was faulty, or if it was an early or discontinued model.
Through his pain, Arlen urged himself to remember that fact as he continued upwards.
A door stood at the very top of the stairwell, though it was already open and its haptic panel blinked rapidly, pulsing red and green in an irregular rhythm.
Arlen glanced at it curiously before fixing his gaze on the scene of destruction he edged stealthily into.
It was some kind of control room, from what he could tell. Long banks of consoles were arranged in an open square, their surfaces blackened and fizzing with bright yellow sparks. A large screen hung from the wall to his right, dangling precariously from one corner.
A warm breeze caressed his skin gently, and Arlen narrowed his eyes at the large hole that had been torn in the far wall. The jungle trees swayed peacefully beyond, and on the wind the battle was distant but strong.
Shouts, screams and snaps of fire, they all entered Arlen's sense in a soft, dreamlike whisper. It all seemed surreal to him as he paced forward carefully, his feet crunching on pieces of metal and broken glass.
A dark blur swept towards his head and Arlen ducked without thinking, instantly taking two steps away from the menacing shape at his side.
Tribune Varn recovered after the miss and stood tall, a tower of strength. His armour was charred and he bled heavily from his brow, but the man's voice held strong.
'I had a feeling someone would come for the general in the middle of all this. I have to say, I'm surprised it's you.'
Arlen didn't reply. He simply held his pistol up, the barrel rattling with nervous energy as it hovered over Varn's chest.
Varn cocked his head and spoke calmly, as if the weapon weren't even there.
'Your heat sink is malfunctioning. I don't know where you got that thing but it won't do you any good if you can't fire it.'
'There's enough for one shot,' Arlen answered back. 'Enough to kill you.'
Varn grinned.
'Let's see.'
Varn stepped forward suddenly and Arlen pulled the trigger. He was too slow, and the slug pounded into the ceiling above Varn's head, bringing down a hunk of chalky masonry.
The heat sinks squealed their alarm and Arlen swung out with his weapon, trying to catch Varn with the back of his hand.
The tribune saw the blow coming and blocked it with ease, clutching the Carnifex by the barrel. Varn leaned in as Arlen struggled in his grip and the two men faced one another, barely an inch apart.
'Now, young Interceptor...' Varn growled. 'Now we'll see what you're truly made of.'
Arlen barely had time to release his hold on the pistol as it was twisted viciously from his grasp.
Panting against both his wounds and the tugging fear that came with being under Varn's relentless gaze, Arlen prepared himself as the Legion's Second came at him with a snarl.