Chapter 52 – Just Good Business

Garrus Vakarian commanded a total of two small operations against the corporate denizens of his new home thus far. However, if one looked at the reaction in some quarters, it would have been more reasonable to assume the turian led an entire invisible army. Jakobs nearly panicked over the possibility its promethium-skimming might be discovered—the Board feared some cooperation between an undead Roland, the ex-commando Axton, the enigmatic zer0, and the invisible predator that hit two important worlds. As Garrus himself noticed, despite the appearance of "security," it was a foregone conclusion water would be stolen from Aquator. The corporations didn't like shooting, and the pirates liked money. Water exporters were willing to tolerate a guaranteed loss if it also meant no further losses, hence the mostly-unspoken arrangement. Suddenly, a hidden menace interrupted that understanding by firing on both sides for no apparent reason.

That Promethea, source of virtually all the promethium required to ensure elemental weapon customers would in fact return for more (rather than reverting to a slobbering mess), got hit twice really had everyone on edge at Jakobs. On one hand, if they revealed this attack to the others within the Economic Development Group, something akin to the anti-Vault-Hunter alliance, temporary though it was, might form. On the other hand, the actual target of the first Promethea attack had been Jakobs' very illegal, very-likely-to-cause-corporate-warfare promethium theft operation. Admitting to it could end up bringing everyone else down on their heads for a second time.

"We have a major problem, gentlemen" began Bill Arkansas Jakobs. "We…"

"With all due respect Mr. Chairman, is this not an overreaction?" Pickens couldn't believe a whole board meeting had been called over a video that no one saw any evidence of on the ECHONet and a little pot-shot at a water supplier.

"Were we not already under suspicion for the slipcelerator mess, I would be inclined to agree" added Lawrence Jakobs. "Except, the rest of our erstwhile allies in the Economic Development Group are already unhappy with us. And now we find Maliwan and Torgue working together to some unknown end!"

"Clone production is accelerating, and we are close to a plan that will bring us the original operative" chimed in Clayton Jakobs. "We have two Atlas destroyers on top of the Maliwan ships we captured. I fail to understand how this is a cause for worry."

Just because they've gone silent doesn't mean they won't come back thought Bill. He'd always wondered about the strange women who'd shown up one day, "convinced" him of the necessity of mothballing very promising developments in slipcelerator technology (placing it in the Plutus vaults), and then disappeared again. Every time something weird happened, he thought of them. He suspected this might be the work of the "Lady" or those like her—how else could invisible attacks on this scale succeed? Sarah might be out of the game (the last he'd seen, the woman looked frail and unable to do much of anything) but her five assistants were powerful in their own right. He had no idea where they might be.

Personal cloaking remained just that: limited to a single soldier at a time per device. No starship scale versions existed, nor would they. Not without greater understanding of Eridian technology, anyway. So if such abilities were involved, it represented several orders of magnitude in technological development that no one in the Economic Development Group could match. Even the once-mighty Atlas couldn't do it. Now the Chairman struggled with whether all this information should be made public—leaders of the other corporations knew due to his question about Sarah at the conference, but no one else had knowledge that mysterious women pressed Jakobs into sitting on advanced weaponry. Plus the apparent change in the one person who could (previously) get most of the family in line meant even if he did want to rally the company, it wouldn't be easy.

A transmission, combined with several Board members' confused stares, snapped Bill out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Chairman, we have an incoming message—high priority."

Wordlessly, the Jakobs family and corporate leader transferred it to the table's holo-projection system.

An automated female voice began speaking. "Attention all Priority ECHONet Users: Your available bandwidth and latency is being negatively affected by the destruction of several key relay points in the following clusters…"

"Wow, that's a lot!"

Wayne Jakobs couldn't believe someone went and blew up over fifty high-capacity relay stations. Especially since the "Big Seven" had an unspoken agreement not to sabotage or destroy common infrastructure. Unlike Aquator or situations like it in which it was understood some level of loss would occur, security of the relay stations was taken seriously.

A follow-up video made no sense—why include footage of nothing?

Dallas spotted it first. "Wait! Did you see?"

"See what?" demanded Lawrence.

"If you see anything there, I secretly work for Hyperion" deadpanned Carson.

Bill Arkansas put on reading glasses. He, too, could make out the faintest of shimmers before one of the relays in question went up in flames under a massive barrage of purple blasts. As if expecting confusion, obnoxious orange highlighting appeared to draw skeptical eyes to a tiny shimmer that made stars behind it look ever so slightly blurry. The disembodied voice spoke again.

"It has been theorized the destruction of relay stations is related to raids against Aquator and Promethea. Identical purple weapon discharges were observed in all three situations. Further bulletins will be issued as events warrant."

Pickens Jakobs flushed red. Even though the actual relationship between his questioning the necessity of responding so harshly to what seemed a minor threat was a mere coincidence, he still felt dumb, like he'd caused it by speaking up.

"I'm calling a conference with the rest of the Big Seven" intoned Bill Arkansas gravely. "I fear the two attacks may have been a warm-up."

[…]

Jakobs' call got put on hold at Tediore.

"Yes, Thalia, we're going to do something about those horrible, nasty 'Flood' monsters" soothed Thomas. "Just wait here."

Thalia, shaken by Samantha Shepard's speech and the visuals which accompanied it, sulked outside "her" company's boardroom ensconced within her parents' estate house on Thrace. She'd had a nightmare or two on the way back to her drop-point, only distracting herself by watching trashy entertainment supplied from several galaxies away ("I wonder how that works?")

"It is the position of Tediore Capital Investments" began Thomas, "that in order to maintain our profit flows we must take action against this threat. Unfortunately, our magnanimity has cost us dearly as leaving certain assets in the hands of what remains of Atlas rather than placing them under the control of Olympus Holding Company."

"Can we not reclaim those assets?" demanded Richard Whitney. He'd only accepted this venture as a favor to his old friend Thomas Tediore—he had zero personal desire to build a corporation to salve the ego of a spoiled child. "Creditors have rights!" he finished.

"Yes they do" replied Stephen Ambrose, "unless they sign their rights away. Which we did."

"And why would we do that?" thundered Richard.

"The lease payments from the rest of the Economic Development Group were considered well-worth the opportunity cost" sighed Theresa. "We've been over this a dozen times! In fact, this Board was unanimous when the amount of income we'd receive from forgoing our direct claims on those ships as part of our buyout of Atlas debt were revealed!"

"So if we have no Atlas ships, and no ready designs for our own, what are we to do?" asked Jason Tezbit.

"Rumor has it that Maliwan and Torgue have created a joint venture. That's what some of our 'participants' in the Badass Arena of Badassitude told us, anyway. Lots of meetings between the Maliwans and Torgue himself…"

Brittany Schwartz didn't want to be the one to suggest teaming up with two competitors, but she didn't have to be as Thomas Tediore broached the topic for her.

"Gentlemen, ladies. What I am about to suggest shall not leave this room until a decision is made, and once a decision arrives all will do their utmost to support it. Am I understood?"

Heads nodded in assent.

"I propose we negotiate with Maliwan/Torgue, offering financial support to their defense effort if in fact it exists. Should the rumors prove false, we will lose nothing. If the rumors are true and we offer to stand with those who might be persuaded to protect our interests, we will earn capital that can be cashed in on later."

The board adopted such a resolution unanimously with little debate. It wasn't as if Tediore, maker of dirt-cheap guns, had much of a chance against a monstrous extra-galactic invader. And while Tediore Capital Investments' coffers were deep enough to drown in, money wasn't bulletproof.

"Now we just have to make the call…"

[…]

"Juan Pablo Rhees here."

Unlike Tediore, Hyperion answered Bill Arkansas' call immediately. Well, answered by an assistant, then transferred several times until it reached the President. His visage popped up on the Jakobs conference table—one of six available spots and thus far the only one to pick up.

"Juan, it's Bill. I'm pretty sure you've been alerted to rather severe damage inflicted on communications relays throughout the Inner Colonies and even a few within the Prime Worlds?"

"We got the same flash traffic you did" replied Rhees. "I assume you're calling about our…agreement."

"That was, indeed part of it. However, I also wanted your opinion regarding certain rumors and stories that have been flying around the ECHONet recently…"

In the meantime, Ronald Dahl picked up for Dahl Corporation.

"If you're wondering what Dahl's response to these 'ghost ship' stories is, we're going to do what we can. Originally, pulling all assets from the borderlands seemed like it would be enough, however with the ongoing assault against key relay network satellites within the Inner Colonies and even near the Prime Worlds, that doesn't seem like it would cover all the bases, so to speak."

"Ronald, good of you to join us." Bill wished he could get a response from Maliwan, Torgue, and Vladof but no such luck (yet). He could see his call to Tediore had been placed on hold.

"What could any of us reasonably do?" questioned Juan Pablo. "Our companies are still in an economic pit created by some rather exuberant spending of years past."

"Well, there is our agreement" replied Bill Arkansas. "Your ships, our crews." He remained deliberately vague on where Jakobs got so many personnel so quickly and hoped no one would ask. "I trust you've been building up the designs we approved?"

The President of Hyperion grated under the idea that his company needed to pay fealty (even if nonmonetary) to someone else in order to do something it had almost always done on its own previously. However, given Hyperion's ruinous venture and honestly poor ship design, it made sense that someone who knew more about those types of things exert some influence, as much as it dented Juan Pablo's ego.

"I presume this is the 'JVLN' framework you had?" inquired Ronald Dahl.

"Indeed" said Rhees. "However, given the circumstances it would be wise to expand that group to include anyone willing to put forward in the interest of…"

Juan Pablo Rhees' line went dead, shortly followed by another pronouncement of "further damage to the relay network."

"And this is why you hosted the call" concluded Ronald.

"Well, now it's just two of us, but yes. Whoever is behind these attacks seems to have a disturbing amount of knowledge regarding exactly where to strike."

Vladof's hammer-and-sickle shimmered into existence on the farthest-left holopanel. The usual overly-bombastic voice blared out of everyone's audio systems.

"The people's champion will destroy the oppressors!"

Neither Bill nor Ronald had an immediate response, until the former decided to ask "Does that mean you're willing to throw in your lot with us?"

"Does the proletariat consist of the most virtuous toiling under the heel of the bourgeoisie?"

"In that context, I suppose the answer would be yes" muttered Ronald.

Bill decided to play the game of "What they think they know, they won't see coming" by revealing some information about his company's operations on Hephaestus. Before doing so, he placed another call to Juan Pablo Rhees. While this dial-out made horrible noises as it attempted to establish a connection, he thought over what to say.

"Warning: Tertiary relays in use. Signal quality degraded" warned the same voice that spoke any time something happened to the relay network.

Indeed, the video image of Juan Pablo came through at an extremely low resolution—a quarter of what had been before, if that. His movements were jerky and his speech stilted, qualities known not to be the fault of the President himself.

"I think…ppened to the rel… We're using…to communicate. Low-bitrate…"

"Carrier pigeons would be better" sighed Bill, before launching into a speech about Jakobs' plans utilizing Atlas cloning technology. Similar to Admiral Allison Nimitz's reaction to working with "war criminals, malcontents, and terrorists," the other corporate leaders chastised Jakobs, but ultimately conceded the needs of the times demanded compromises that otherwise wouldn't be made.

"The on… not declaring open war… personally trust you."

"This is most disturbing" continued Ronald, "that you would dabble in that dangerous slipcelerator technology and quietly sweep up a good portion of Atlas' secrets thought to be lost upon the company's collapse. Is there anything else you are keeping from us?"

The number of random portals depositing people and things in unexpected places had, surprisingly, decreased lately. In a sense of cosmic trade, then, more and more Infected Harvesters (or "Flood" as Samantha Shepard called them) poured out of whatever hell-mouth opened on Plutus.

Bill Arkansas Jakobs defended his company. "Keep in mind that no one knew the slipcelerators were dangerous until recently. It is not as though we deliberately sought to sabotage an entire galaxy only so we could then claim the mantle of savior using the very same technology that brought us to this point."

The others, even Vladof, silently conceded this sort of long-range planning couldn't possibly come from the fractured Jakobs clan.

"Why has the patriot protector S&S Munitions been excluded from this people's congress?" demanded the hammer-and-sickle. "Their valiant work at Plutus has sheltered the galaxy from a worse fate!"

The irony inherent in referring to a meeting of corporate executives as a "people's congress" did not escape those present. Rumor had it that before aborting the vending scheme they'd planned for Pandora, Vladof's weapon-selling-machines would have had a chance to say "To hell with capitalism! Except in this case!" upon completion of a transaction.

"I mean no disrespect" said Bill, "but the number of Infected Harvesters has only increased of late. What 'valiant' work is being done if they are not being held back?"

The Vladof voice went on a rant about "power to the people" and "down with the capitalist pigs" or somesuch. Bill Arkansas Jakobs decided to find out straight from the horse's mouth why S&S, known for their space-based assets like the Pollux defense platform, weren't performing better at Plutus. Bill Arkansas found himself routed through S&S bureaucracy until he reached the descendent of one of the founding brothers of the company, a Slade Stevens, who now held the title of Chief Executive Officer. That he happened to have family ties was more a coincidence than an engineered event. Like Ronald Dahl, his promotion rested mainly on merits, not obscure bylaws that restricted most top-level company positions to those owning stock only issued to members of the vastly-extended family.

"Slade, I was wondering if we could talk."

"I'm on the comm, aren't I?"

S&S had never been considered part of the "Big Seven" despite being a company of substantial size. The biggest trade in this wildcat galaxy revolved around firearms, whether their wielders be paramilitary, civilian, or less-than-law-abiding-and-less-than-sane. Though S&S Munitions did in fact produce quality wares in this area, they were best-known for their space-based defenses.

"I'm here with Vladof, Dahl, and Hyperion—all of us having a single burning question. Your company is known for its weapons platforms. According to Vladof, S&S has battlestations around the breach at Plutus. So why do Infected Harvesters keep showing up?"

Slade Stevens, a military man's military man, walked his compatriots through the situation as best he could.

"First, you do not seem to be fully aware of the situation if you believe the Infection is only arriving at Plutus. This is its main source, however, random portal events have been depositing Infected starships in other areas of the galaxy. These deposits are usually not sufficient to warrant concern, which is why it is not a major issue at the moment, so any single starship arriving in this way is generally ignored until it makes itself a threat. Second, there is no tactical or strategic reason for us to commit to full containment at Plutus as our own assets are well-shielded. Third, the only reason we would deploy additional battlestations at Plutus would be if we were somehow bound by notions of contract, honor, or other factor to protect everyone in this galaxy. We are not under any such stricture at this time."

"I believe…added to this conference." Juan Pablo Rhees still suffered from being connected through tertiary relays.

"To formulate an agreement?" snapped Stevens. "Why would we? Absent a large and continuing revenue stream, we have absolutely no duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You all were caught completely unawares and allowed key segments of the relay network be destroyed!"

Ronald Dahl wouldn't let this criticism go by unchallenged. "If it has escaped your notice, the attacker or attackers responsible are invisible."

"And what do you do when you can't see your target? Shoot until you find it." To Slade, this solution was so blindingly obvious he couldn't believe no one else considered it. This was why he made no effort to be included in the "Big Seven"—their level of incompetence on military matters strained his intellect sometimes.

"So you've driven off the purple laser-bearing ghost ship?" demanded Bill.

"Driven off may be the wrong term" conceded Slade Stevens. "It only harassed us once—a gigantic flak barrage sent it packing. I have video if you wish to observe…"

Said footage depicted flak batteries firing. Impacts could be seen against something but other than that the mysterious vessel had to be at least 100 meters in length due to space of simultaneous impacts plus the shimmering effects nothing could be discerned.

What S&S couldn't see would, indeed, hurt them.

[…]

Provisional Operations Commander Garrus Vakarian, after consultation with Jackie and elder-Maya, decided to go after others not part of the "Big Seven." Thus his orders to Miranda, leading to her overseeing attacks against the relay network (used by all corporations within the Economic Development Group) and now, the first groundside operation. An installation belonging to S&S Munitions responsible for developing Eridian weapons for their battle platforms served as the initial target. Flak batteries scored several hits (Cortana reported shields actually noticeably decreased), after which Normandy dived into the planet Vela's atmosphere unnoticed. With a few adjustments, the "perfect" cloak could become flawed, allowing a faint shimmer to the sharpest eyes/sensors. Aside from obvious purple novalaser fire, this subtle distortion effect became the other hallmark of the "ghost ship." Having let the orbital defense batteries "see" the phantom vessel, Cortana restored the cloak to its normal perfect self prior to Normandy heading planetside.

Technically, a heavy frigate like Normandy wasn't rated for planetary operations. This represented a design compromise during her Cerberus days—designers knew the ship wouldn't handle well in-atmosphere hence carrying a compliment of Kodiak drop-shuttles. But with her Trans-Galactic Republic spruce-up including additional reactor power, the eezo core became capable of handling the ship's weight in environments up to 5G's. No one made use of this ability until Miranda's strike.

"They think they scared us off" she said to the team, "but in reality we're just digging the blade in deeper. We enter this facility, see what we can find, and blow up everything that isn't personnel. Remember, we still want to minimize casualties."

Thane Krios gave Miranda credit—she'd been immersed in a virulently anti-alien organization yet had come around quickly when the Reapers kicked in the door. Sure, there were lots of pieces of paperwork (and a lot of suspicion that had to be dispelled) but she defected to the Trans-Galactic Republic/Citadel alliance and helped oversee the integration of Citadel-vintage tech into the design of Aspirations Toward Infinity. He supposed she might have been less "anti-alien" and more "pro-humanity" than he'd suspected anyone who worked for Cerberus could be.

"Once we reach the facility, Garrus wants us to make as big of a mess as possible. Given that our role is still to be the 'ghost ship,' everyone will wear armor that covers all features so no positive identification can be made. Digistruction has aided in producing gear that resembles that of the Master Chief—gender-concealing, strength-enhancing, and of course heavily shielded."

Obviously, such armor worked best on humanoids, which meant Kasumi, James, Thane, Miranda, and Athena would be the only ones embarking on this trip. A geth would not fit, and salarians were too different to pass for human, even covered in a battlesuit. The original wearer of said equipment remarked that in the SPARTAN program, no one could visually distinguish the men from the women once suited up. Such anonymity fit perfectly with the nature of this operation.

Thane's accommodated his aversion to moisture with heavy filtration for environments up to 90% humidity. It wouldn't be an issue today; S&S Munitions put their research buildings smack in the middle of a desert. Still nice to have. Kasumi felt slightly claustrophobic but could "live with it," while Athena felt right at home. Miranda had worn similar armor during her missions with Shepard circa the Collector attacks, although it was significantly less advanced than this new bodysuit. Cortana based the armor on her recollections of MJOLNIR blueprints, though without specific manufacturing techniques and highly-classified details the resemblance came more from form than function.

Aside from a rushed creation process in one case (Garrus ordered Miranda's gear right before he left), everyone found their new equipment to fit relatively well. There were tradeoffs, as always, but Cortana remained confident strengths outweighed weaknesses ("I'm basically doing the equivalent of napkin-design here—I was never shown the full plans for MJOLNIR armor and am only going off what I remember from operating John's") despite flaws in the project. For one, rather than picking candidates who fit the program, each version had been customized for its wearer, meaning certain parts of the suit were slightly different in size and shape depending on who was inside. The wiry Kasumi had the least space for important items such as onboard hypermatter reactor, backup tri-lithium power cells, and eezo capacitors.

"I guess someone found a use for that little bit of eezo after all" said James somewhat bitterly as he bounced around Normandy's hanger thanks to his substantial weight being almost completely nullified. "It better be worth the mess we made to get it."

Powerful shields gave each individual a level of protection more commonly associated with starfighters or heavy vehicles, fueled by onboard hypermatter annihilation. Miniaturizing down to a wearable size entailed accepting some risk—mainly sufficient shocks to the battlesuit under high load might overload the reactor with explosive results since it could generate far more energy than systems attached to it could safely handle. However the odds of such an event occurring given the deflective capacity of shields generated as a result meant even Cortana didn't think much of it.

"The biotic Flood are dangerous" commented Thane, "and can easily defeat these shields, can they not?"

Cortana rolled her eyes. "I don't see any of those around here. You should be safe."

In order to give the impression this "new" faction wasn't just made up of ordinary bandits, weapons built into the armor were standardized with a pair of disruptors on the left and a single massive Variable Munition Mass Driver on the right. It took some clever engineering (assist went to Ken Donnelly and Gabby Daniels) but the mass driver ended up not compromising the ability of the wearer to use his or her right hand. Mounting points on the underside of each arm could accommodate weapons such as ShieldSlammers or FireHose Revenants for accurate, stable, sustained fire at the cost of movement. Cortana called this stationary weapon setup "SPARTAN Mode." The weapons could either be digistructed (again, movement penalty) or pulled from an integrated SDU on either the left or right hip before being mounted. On the back of each suit: a quartet of downward-facing thrusters that converted hypermatter energy into thrust. Jumps of several hundred meters were possible in a standard 1G environment. Sustained flight could be attained at the cost of some shield strength as this required the entire mass to be nullified or an immense amount of thrust—either of which sapped power from shields due to the huge energy requirement of both options.

Unlike actual MJOLNIR armor, the entire system relied on shielding (energy and particle) to block or mitigate incoming fire. Without said shielding, the wearer's best bet would be to turn tail, as while the actual suit did qualify as "hard" it wasn't nearly as durable as its inspiration. Having only basic self-healing capabilities didn't help the case either. Cortana hoped the users wouldn't need to make use of the minimal medi-bac injections available (since complex liquids like bacta were utterly incapable of being placed in SDUs). In an emergency, the entire getup could be flooded with high-potency bacta in the safety of a medical bay, but this ability offered no comfort during a hostile field operation. Principally, you had to survive leaving the battle to be healed later.

Garrus had asked for personal concealment, unfortunately for him even Cortana, Gaige, and Tali working together couldn't come up with something on this short a timeframe. Stygium was rare, hibridium created double-blind and used massive amounts of energy, and she hadn't been exposed to the intricacies of either Covenant or Forerunner cloaking technology from her own universe beyond watching it operate if John-117 happened upon such a device.

"No, I don't know everything" she'd said, laughing, as Gaige asked much that question in a few different words. "I wasn't some all-seeing omnipotent goddess."

Joker's voice filled the hanger and helmet audio. "Stand by for drop."

At least Cortana figured out how to incorporate five-person squads into armor HUDs. She'd also loaded automated jump-sequences since there were no parachutes and more than one operator expressed concern about "throwing myself out of a ship at 1000kph and hoping I land right-side-up."

The hanger door opened, five people jumped, and their invisible mothership whipped away back into a standard orbit.

"Relax and let Cortana's routines handle the landing" warned Miranda. "Don't tense up—you won't like it."

One advantage to an extremely sophisticated AI handling software and hardware development: zero background noise. The ex-Cerberus squad leader spoke as though she sat in a quiet restaurant with her friends for a Friday night dinner.

"At least there's no obnoxious whooshing sound" added Kasumi. "I'm used to having to shout, then wondering if that's going to give me away." She whispered as if conspiring.

"I don't want to know why a thief would be doing atmospheric jumps" protested James. "Actually, maybe I do want to know, but not now!"

It only took a few minutes for a quintet of meteors to touch down on the outskirts of a facility which officially did not exist. That thermal emissions might attract attention escaped notice, but at the same time the reaction was generally "We'll look at it later." James immediately fired up his jump-jets, only to be ordered down by Miranda.

"Do you want to set off every anti-aircraft gun that might exist in this vicinity?"

"Apologies ma'am."

"If you call me that again, I'll send you flying myself!" she replied with some level of amusement.

"Cortana to Meteor One, you missed your target!"

Miranda let off an exasperated noise. The shooting hadn't even started and already something went wrong.

"I noticed. We can sneak in if we can get bearings on a vehicle somewhere."

"Wait, so where were we supposed to land?" questioned Athena suspiciously.

"The whole reason we dove out of Normandy and nearly splattered ourselves was so we'd end up in the middle of the facility, or at least inside the perimeter. I'd blame Joker for this, but he's dropped a Mako into the proverbial coin slot so I won't go there…"

"Cortana to Meteor, looks like this isn't going to be easy. All traffic seems to fly in."

"Shit" cursed Miranda. "How are we supposed to…"

"I've hacked into S&S's communications channels—the security is laughably easy—I'll let you know if there's anything that might serve as a cover."

"Good, if a starship crashes out of the sky or a Reaper shows up, that ought to do it."

James' sarcasm drew a rebuke from Miranda, but only mildly. She, too, shared his frustration and based on what little body language could be read through these suits, so did the rest of the team.

"If you asked nicely, we could provide some air support…"

"Will this provide the necessary distraction to get us in?" Thane Krios did not make a name for himself as an assassin by beating down every front door with the subtlety of an elcor dropped on one's head. "Or will it merely prompt them to tighten security unless the ship does a significant portion of the work, risking excessive casualties per the Provisional Operational Commander and the possible destruction of the data we seek?"

He sincerely hoped Cortana wasn't planning on using the heavy frigate to blast the base. First, those things he'd said, second, he'd just jumped out of a ship for no reason if that did in fact happen.

"There's no rule that says we have to use Normandy. We do have a complement of five blastboats, and your back-up pilot Cortez here is practically begging me to let him have a round with one…"

"What happened to the sixth fighter?" demanded Miranda. "Please tell me no one lost or destroyed it."

"Utah is being used for the younger Siren's training" replied Cortana as if Miranda had asked whether oceans had water. "It was disembarked along with the Siren herself prior to our departure. If you read the status logs, you'd know these things."

Miranda ignored the AI's jibe. "So, if we use a blastboat to draw attention, how do we get in? A bunch of flying armor suits isn't exactly subtle…"

She stopped, before remembering her discussion with Garrus prior to his leaving.

"If the opportunity arises to double-deal and get us on the inside where we can do even more damage or gain valuable intelligence, take it!"

"…unless they want the flying armor suits" she concluded out loud. "Garrus told me about the idea we'd be both the problem and the solution at the same time. Cortana, it's a good thing these suits look identical—we're going to sell our way in."

Miranda quickly hashed out a cover story. The blastboat would attack, and they, as "mercenaries" conducting training exercise in a "hostile environment," would offer their services to the highest bidder. Naturally, S&S Munitions would be set up to win as Steve Cortez would maintain radio silence.

"And Athena?"

The commando knew what the question would be.

"Yes, I will play along. I will be the clone commander, and you shall be my sisters."

"Sisters?" blurted James Vega. "How the hell am I supposed to sound like that?"

His question became unnecessary as Cortana adjusted voice modulators on every suit to mimic Athena, catching the N7's last few words in the process. "Very funny" he complained, only to hear his voice turn feminine again.

"You'll retain your original voices on the suit-to-suit comm only, so no one loses their mind" added Cortana.

"Thanks." James heard his own voice now that his transmission had a set destination (Cortana).

"Launching Omaha now. Transferring you to Steve Cortez, but be warned—keep the chatter to a minimum. I don't think they can snoop, but if they see comm lines, even encrypted ones, between their supposed-saviors and the ones attacking, that won't help your sales pitch."

"Starting my run now."

Cortez's blastboat appeared from nowhere, as anything launching from Normandy with her cloak on did. The craft fired its three turbolaser turrets and dual heavy ion cannon unopposed at first, until flak batteries responded. Cortez didn't even bother with shielding. Fireants were given the name for a reason: they bled you and were darn near impossible to kill quickly enough to save yourself. Tower after tower fell. Panicked cries came through Meteor's helmets as S&S personnel tried to figure out what to do about their tormenter. Orbital fire called down proved too inaccurate, doing more damage to the facility than its nimble assailant.

Then they showed up. Rocketing out of the sky like some kind of avenging angel, the apparently all-female force landed smack in the middle of the dust-up between their own gunship and the infiltration target.

"Firing on target."

"Disruptors to full."

"Scattershot mass driver initiating targeting sequence."

Disruptor fire caused actual damage to Omaha, searing through a stabilizer and cutting an external mount (which possessed no munitions).

"Who are you?" screamed an on-duty officer responsible for protecting S&S's research division.

"We can be your savior, if you see value in our actions."

In the meantime, Cortez went nuts dropping heavy rockets into exterior walls. None noticed his pattern of avoiding damage to core buildings. To keep up the illusion, he smashed several storage sheds, burning up two vehicles with no obvious wheels, but very plainly-mounted weapons.

"I hope that makes their lives easier."

Two Variable Munition Mass Drivers struck his blastboat, slagging the lower-left turbolaser.

In line with the ruse, that S&S now wished for these "superb assault troopers" to join them wasn't communicated to Cortez directly, but he got the idea watching hand signals from one which led to a significant increase in the firepower directed at Omaha. By virtue of its nature, disruptor fire actually caused considerable damage, so Cortez flipped on his shields, only to see several huge rail-gun looking objects appear from behind armor plates. He bugged out.

"We were using this planet's uniquely-challenging environment for our hostile-survival training exercise" lectured Athena as though bored. "Your incident with unknown attackers provided the perfect capstone to weeks of grueling desert survival."

"Surely you would like to relax after such achievements" offered the S&S base commander, a man calling himself Edmund Kerrigan. "You and your sisters are welcome to make use of our refreshment facilities."

Uh-oh. Everyone can't be taking their helmets off…

Miranda stepped in with an explanation she hoped wasn't too flimsy.

"We are next-generation operatives. We are bonded to our armor and weapons day in and day out. I don't suppose you have…"

She let loose with some completely made-up phrases that sounded reasonably technological, relating to feeding tubes, hydrators, and "REM enhancement systems."

"At least they're hospitable" offered Kasumi privately.

"Yeah, at the cost of being stuck in this armor" replied James.

Athena sheepishly admitted the Master Chief hadn't exactly shared how long he'd used his armor in one stint when describing it to Miranda. From what she could tell, the suits lacked the gobblygook Miranda spouted off, so they could not eat, sleep, or clean wounds while ensconced. At least the design incorporated an integrated waste-removal system, so there would be no bathroom troubles.

After a short pause, Edmund Kerrigan tilted his head as if confused. "Okay then. We'll leave you be… What form of payment will you accept? Eridium? Cash? I can get you the former much more quickly than the latter."

"We'll take whatever we can get now" replied Athena.

"Eridium it is! Let me figure out the current exchange rate…"

"Oh-ho, that is not okay!" retorted Athena. "Not for what we just did—you want all of us here, you're going to have to come up with more than that. My sisters will be departing until you secure additional compensation. I will remain as a gesture of good faith."

Here's to hoping he buys it and doesn't ask too many questions.

"You did save our most valuable research facility. The price is steep, but the losses would have been even greater had your squad not intervened. I will endeavor to increase our payment to you. To whom should I refer when submitting an expense voucher?"

Unaware Jakobs actively searched for her location, Athena decided to build a monument to her own ego for the hell of it.

"Athena's Arbiters."

Edmund Kerrigan hid his recognition of the name—a standing bounty existed on a woman named "Athena" who apparently possessed fierce combat abilities. Perhaps this was her—Jakobs would offer a substantial reward for her capture, even if it came at the hands of a competitor…

[…]

Without Jackie, Jakobs interrogations contained quite a bit less seduction, baby talk, and need for "privacy." Instead, the transplant Roland, zer0, and Axton found themselves subjected to bog-standard paramilitary questioning. Attempts to remove zer0's helmet failed, and whatever he was didn't seem very talkative in the first place. Suggestions at "aggressive negotiations" that might or might not result in trauma to the strange being's long fingers went unheeded—such techniques were at the option of the person running the show, who declined to utilize them.

Jackson Richards worked for Jakobs because of the pay. Not out of some loyalty to the family or "benefits" associated with Jackie. In fact, he'd actually been a freelancer, a Dahl equipment specialist, and a Hyperion starship mechanic before taking his career planetside. The Big Seven protested loudly about employee-poaching, but only ever actually cared if the worker(s) in question had knowledge of weapon designs or upcoming product launches. Everything else was an "understanding" just like the pirates of Aquator. It wasn't worth it to run down every single former employee who went to work at a competitor because his ex-wife got a planet-wide order of protection or she decided to see if there were more opportunities under a different banner. Hence, few employees possessed the kind of ideological fervor found in positions reserved for those bearing the Jakobs name.

"Look, I don't want you here any more than you want to be here" he said, trying to reason with the one apparently in charge. "If you agree to give us actionable information on who sent you and why, we're willing to release you."

"You sent your best operatives after me, again" shot back Roland. "That's not the first encounter I've had with your all-female hit-squads, which you seem to have borrowed from Atlas!"

Shouldn't have said that…

Richard's tone changed. "You profess to have allegiance to no one, yet you've been marked for death by our elite semi-independent operatives. There is more at play here than you are choosing to share, and that could either end very well for you or very badly. It is your choice."

The questioner received information through a tiny earpiece, nodding visibly in reaction to it.

"So, you're the undead champion who once sought Eridian riches on Pandora."

Roland knew explaining his arrival would probably be a long shot. He figured it beat telling lies, though technically due to his origins almost anything would sound like a lie.

"Why are you calling me undead? The Roland whose death you read about remains dead. I'm from another parallel, another universe if you will."

"I've heard better stories" snapped Richards. "You know something about us, and your telling us is the only way you walk out of this facility."

Suddenly, Jackson's face changed as if experiencing a revelation.

"I apologize for my outburst" he backtracked. "I was not aware of all relevant information—it appears our scientists believe your presence here is related to the slipcelerator technology at the heart of every Jakobs weapon, the Harvesters, the Infection, and the insanity resulting from a combination of all of the above."

"So the universe is tipped on its head and nobody bothered to let everyone know, huh?"

"I'm just as confused as you are."

In another room, Axton detailed his instantaneous transportation from the Citadel hundreds of thousands of lightyears away back to his home galaxy.

"I stepped forward to walk into a store, and ended up stepping out on Pandora."

Several lab-coat-wearing individuals carrying sophisticated-looking handheld devices were waving said devices around him as if scanning for metal.

"We're searching for residual particles that would be present from a slipcelerator transition" commented one.

"You saying I'm lying?" demanded the physically restrained Axton.

"Not necessarily, such leftovers fade. In fact, if I found any now I'd wonder how you got here."

Bill Arkansas Jakobs hoped for greater cooperation from the captives. Due to their potential knowledge and the information they might have released, what would ordinarily have been kept beneath the notice of the Chairman became a personal matter. He found that two of three had military backgrounds—in fact, excepting his apparent translation from another universe, this Roland was one of the Vault Hunter-types branded terrorists by Hyperion prior to the Slingshot Project's launch. The same could be said of Axton. Consequently, attempting to torture them would not work. Some sloppily-kept records indicated Jackie Jakobs once held Axton captive, but nothing showed if she'd gotten anything of interest (she hadn't). Still, Jakobs scientists had another method to extract information that would hopefully not be too painful.

"Our scientists designed this to copy important aspects of the brain from a person to his or her clone" explained one of the lab-coats walking around Axton. "However, we believe it may also be used to extract memories, so it will be very simple to determine if you are lying or not."

It would also be a test to ensure the device didn't kill anyone before running it on Athena, were she ever captured. This extended to using it on Axton first, as Roland appeared to be in charge, or at least possess more knowledge. Various techs prepped Axton for attachment to the machine, a sort of head-cap combined with restraints to keep the target from moving. No thick wires protruded, a single fiber-optic link provided enough bandwidth to read and/or write.

"I'm not even going to ask" he deadpanned, before an injected sedative knocked him out.

"If it hurts, it's probably going to kill you" replied the injection-wielding scientist, before pressing a series of buttons to bring the contraption online. A highly-advanced fMRI that relied on electrical stimulation to bring up memories, the device could reconstruct just about anything in a person's head so long as they were forced to actively remember the item in question. Of course, this left it open to tampering or fraud—in theory a sufficiently-trained person could produce falsified memories. However, the "Inducer" existed to prevent this and it was the Inducer whose electric shocks could be fatal.

Three shocks stimulated Axton's brain. Subjects were kept unconscious to reduce the likelihood of mental training being utilized to provide incorrect recollections.

Images of the former commando's latest mission began flashing across large screens. Unfortunately, no video-like recollections covering whatever had been observed at Jakobs' skimming operation presented themselves.

"Up the Inducer."

There were risks, of course. Putting current, even mild ones, through the human brain could disrupt it, just like sufficient shocks could stop or alter the heart's rhythm. Memories started coming in more rapidly, though there seemed to be a trade-off between speed and clarity. Altering Inducer points cleared up the images somewhat while maintaining most of the time saved. Neurospecialists monitoring the situation warned that continued application of the device in this configuration risked permanent damage to brain tissue, but their protests were brushed aside.

Five minutes later, blame got passed around like a round at Moxxi's latest bar.

"You overdid the Inducer" lectured neurospecialists.

"You didn't prep him right" shot back equipment operators.

"You're all impatient" insisted a lead scientist. "If you'd gone with a slow-and-steady approach, his brain would not be jello."

Regardless of who actually carried fault, the subject would supply no additional memories. At least they'd learned what not to do. First, Inducer power levels would be capped. Second, a limit would be established for memory recovery speed. Finally, alterations to subject preparation would be enforced. All would work toward not killing Roland, Athena, or anyone else of importance.

"Prep for next subject" barked a scientist. "The prime clone has been delivered to us!"

[…]

"Yes, I'm sure!" insisted Edmund Kerrigan. "See?"

He transmitted several photos of questionable quality depicting the team leader with her helmet off.

"Fine" he seethed. Manipulating a few settings on internal security cameras within the base, he dialed up photo resolution to a level that wouldn't leave much doubt who the woman was. At a minimum, she definitely matched the "Wanted" files spread all over the ECHONet as being an Athena clone. That she'd identified her group as "Athena's Arbiters" enhanced his certainty.

Of course, she could just be another loose copy. Rumors of Atlas-turned-Jakobs combat clones were impossible to tamp down. Jakobs putting out a bounty for the original suggested some level of involvement with a project thought dead. Out of respect for Bill Arkansas Jakobs, the other corporate leaders he'd managed to reach kept everything quiet even as he dropped bombshells (Atlas cloning tech, continuing use of slipcelerators). That meant everyone else had only speculation tossed about ECHONet boards.

"We are not sure that she is the real Athena" explained Operative-394, "Kat," to her squad. "However, she appears to be a mentally-competent, battle-hardened clone not under Jakobs control. That alone merits us paying her a visit. She could be ex-Atlas. In fact, I think that the most likely since our source claims she commanded an entire squad of similarly-armed and armored soldiers."

"How would they have gone unnoticed for so long?" questioned Operative-4291, alias "Mal."

"Do you not remember your own heritage, 4291?" chastised Kat, less out of anger and more out of amusement.

"If she is the original, she probably has more combat ability than this entire squad put together" added Operative-5789 ("Dee") with some level of awe.

"I wouldn't go that far" laughed Kat. "We are, after all, the elite among the elite for a reason…"

Along with Operative-2478 ("Sif") and Operative-7816 ("Nova") the five were the only operatives to be rated "Ultra-Lethal" by Atlas' measuring standards, which had been adopted by Jakobs upon reactivation of the former's cloning program. Due to this status, they would be deployed to collect the clone, as her "sisters" departed for reasons unknown to Jakobs (Edmund Kerrigan was not about to admit he'd been browbeaten into paying more for a deed already done). Originally, each had a squad of four additional operatives rating at least the second-highest level of deadliness ("Very Lethal"), but this proved unnecessary once it became apparent the mission would not require obtaining five clones—only one.

S&S ended up with a small dilemma. On one hand, if the base personnel gave any indication to Athena that she would be handed over to someone else, she'd probably attack. However, leaving her at leisure for Jakobs to show up would also mean Jakobs learning of the secret Vela facility. Edmund Kerrigan figured he could probably demand secrecy in exchange for Athena. Of course, he never quite knew who he'd hired…

Athena lounged in a recreational area. Apparently the scientists here were conducting research on Eridian weapons and other artifacts hauled in from across the galaxy proper, mainly for the benefit of S&S's line of space stations. A hologram representing Pollux, the most common of these battle platforms, rotated in front of her. Its eight high-output Eridian cannons were arranged around a central power generator. Within ball-mounts, they could swivel to grant a large field of fire. She was about to see if the computer would let her pull up more details when several events occurred at once.

First, the skylight above her exploded inward. Followed immediately by the closest door blowing apart. Athena carried the designation "super prototype" for a reason—her greatly enhanced reflexes let her dodge two incoming kicks, a punch, and an attempt to trip her up as she barreled forward to grab her helmet, which lay a few meters from where she'd been standing.

Even though surprise had been achieved, her attackers were in for a bigger one than Athena, at least at first. A twin disruptor blast vaporized Operative-5789 before she could even engage her mark. Operative-2478 found herself hurled across the room by a Variable Munition Mass Driver induced explosion. Operatives 4291, 394, and 7816 poured fire into their target to no avail—shields derived from Trans-Galactic Republic units easily shrugged off even the heaviest small arms. Athena engaged her jump-jets, blasting through what remained of the room's skylight shattered by three of her assailants.

"There were no indications the target possessed this level of weaponry!" bleated Operative-394. "Execute negotiations!"

Several persons, entering the destroyed area in search of relaxation, first found a floor covered in glass, a badly-wounded clone, and three additional soldiers who immediately took them at gunpoint.

"Operative-394 broadcasting in the clear to unrecognized clone: Surrender, or these random people have their days ruined."

Ordinarily, Athena would've immediately swung into action to protect innocents held hostage. However, she had appearances to keep up—she was a mercenary, not a hero. Perhaps if she acted sufficiently un-Athena-like (she hoped they knew the "real" her, but had no idea whether tales of her more selfless actions had been disseminated) they might leave. Might. And she was gambling the lives of uninvolved scientists on it.

"Hostages only work if your enemy cares that they live."

Hovering above her attempted-abductors, she fired VMMD rounds in their general direction, knocking down Operative-7816 but not removing her from the fight.

"So be it."

A head rolled as Operative-394's sword glistened with new blood.

"Do we have your attention now?"

"No."

Another disruptor blast aimed at the one she'd knocked over. Near-miss; she saw a shield flare.

"Who sent you, and why?"

"That doesn't matter" countered Operative-394. "Come with us quietly, or more people die."

"You don't really get it, do you?"

"Yes we do."

Operative-4291 decapitated a sobbing scientist.

Damn, these people are serious. They've called my bluff TWICE.

She also noticed their armor coloration—not Atlas at all. The brown and white striped design seemed more like Jakobs than anyone else.

But Jackie can't be behind this, and she was the only Jakobs I ever saw have any interest in me…

"You know you can't beat me in a straight fight" lectured Athena as if speaking to children being scolded for excessive candy consumption. "So you have to drag other people into it and hope that I'll give in on their behalf."

"It is because we are aware of this fact that we now have ten bargaining chips" replied Operative-394. While Athena hovered there talking, Operative-7816 recovered and along with Operative-2478 rounded up more people from nearby areas within the facility.

"This is not how it is supposed to be!" exclaimed Edmund Kerrigan. "This trade wasn't supposed to involve random people getting their heads cut off!"

"You said you would give us the prime clone. So far, we have been unable to collect. Consider these unfortunate incidents interest owed on principal not yet paid."

Kerrigan wasn't sure who to blame more—the mercenary he hired or the mercenaries he'd sold his hireling to. He dialed up this "Athena."

"Just go quietly" he pleaded. "Two of my scientists are dead, and…"

She didn't let the base commander finish. "You sold me out! You bastard! I will not 'go quietly.' Maybe next time you shouldn't backstab someone on your payroll."

"So you're going to let more innocents die?" he challenged.

"Oh, blaming me for your own mistake? You thought you'd get away with having me kidnapped, but when it turned out the kitty had claws it's suddenly the kicked cat's fault she fought back. If you cared so much about your base, it would have been advisable not to set up a situation in which five super-commandos end up fighting in it."

Edmund opened his mouth to chastise the errant mercenary, only to be cut off by one of the Jakobs operatives.

"You have failed, and you will not be receiving payment of the bounty as we were unable to collect as you promised. However, your sole fortune for the day is that the mark has left your facility. We have no reason to remain here while our quarry flees to other locations. Good day to you."

Athena hated herself for letting several uninvolved people end up dead. However, she also guessed whatever plans Jakobs had for her would have far nastier consequences than a handful of funerals—more like a score's score of funerals given her background and original purpose. In that sense, she felt as though she'd made a tough but necessary choice. Now, she used her Cortana-engineered thrusters to put as much distance between herself and the abominable facility as possible. Naturally, the quartet of white-and-brown pursuers chased after her. Realizing their prey would escape if they continued on foot, three swung into Iron Eagle one-person transports modified for combat that brought the squad here in the first place. The craft's speed and maneuverability were already selling points—just slap a few (Eridian) weapons on, and presto! Instant competent space and atmospheric fightercraft.

Ship-scale Eridian weapons remained expensive and rare, but Bronco 1 possessed a pair as the squad leader. Operative-394's fellow pilots, 4291 and 7816, utilized hybrid railgun weaponry which were smaller versions of that which scared off Steve Cortez.

"Remember, we're trying to take her alive, so keep your weapons at minimum settings!"

Kat sincerely hoped high-powered Eridian cannons wouldn't vaporize the target. She needn't have worried.

Athena chuckled darkly to herself as she screamed over Vela's landscapes. She figured the landlubbers were left behind, scrambling to summon something capable of catching… A flash caught her attention.

Cortana's prerecorded voice blared into her headset. "Shields decreased to 73%."

Unlike her normal persona, this "Cortana" kept it professional, reporting only necessary information without indulging in the usual commentary. That it was just voice samples combined with speech synthesis furthered the disconnect between its origin and its implementation—it had no intelligence whatsoever. Still, the volume was a bit high.

Athena recalled a warning from the artificial intelligence that high-speed flight would compromise shielding by forcing power to be split between thrust and protection. She turned about to see what, exactly, was causing the shield compromise.

"Surrender now" demanded a near-perfect impression of her own voice. "There are no scientists or bystanders in this fight. You come with us willingly or unwillingly."

"You won't kill me" she declared.

"No, but push us too far and you'll wish we did."

In anger, Athena fired her disruptors, only to realize a split-second later they lacked the range to strike ships several kilometers away. In the meantime, power drawn to feed these useless shots drained her shields as more shots impacted them.

"Shields reduced to 67%."

The hovering clone raged until logic kicked in—Cortana warned using several high-powered systems at once would cause this. Go to ground before they force you.

Before she got the chance, all three Iron Eagles let loose with everything they had. Within seconds, she overheard the words Cortana assured all wearers they'd never have to worry about: "Reactor overload. Ejection imminent. Have a nice day!"

Fuck.

Hypermatter detonations produced some of the largest explosions relative to the amount of material involved known to Trans-Galactic Republic science. Due to this, Cortana engineered these armor suits to offer an additional layer of protection despite believing the event which it related to would not occur. In the event of an overload, the entire engine module would detach from the wearer's back as the reactor fit within. The overload would be channeled as much as possible into motive thrust to push the going-critical reactor up and away from the suit's wearer. Repulsor-decouplers would simultaneously shove the person away.

Athena flipped end-over-end as her armor's power source zipped into the atmosphere and detonated. The bodysuit absorbed most of the heat and shock, though she figured she'd probably need a bacta tank immersion after this (assuming she didn't splatter falling from several hundred meters up). Of course, "Cortana" helpfully explained what would happen next.

"Soft landing jets will engage at t-minus one hundred meters. Remain calm."

"How much power does this thing have left?" she demanded.

"It is highly recommended that you obtain a replacement as soon as possible. Without the main reactor, this suit's functions are emergency-only."

At least the voice recognition and question-logic works well.

"What about my weapons?"

"Suit weapons are disabled."

"I meant my weapons in SDUs."

"SDU functionality is not guaranteed on emergency power."

God damn it.

Sand stretched below—she hadn't cleared the desert in which S&S Munitions hid their facility yet. She had no survival supplies, and at this rate it would be a race between Normandy (who she frantically tried to signal) and her would-be captors to see who could reach Athena's landing site first. Of course, low power made the commando question whether Normandy even received her call for help…

"Unable to verify message receipt."

"Why? The ship should be within range…"

"Stygium cloaking requires additional energy to penetrate with communication packets. At normal transmit power this suit would be more than capable, however on emergency backups broadcast range and intensity are significantly reduced."

"Can anything else go wrong?" she snapped.

Thankfully, her landing did not involve a face-first plant into sand since as promised, soft-landing repulsors cushioned the fall.

It's getting hot in here…

"Interior temperatures on track to exceed recommended levels. Suit removal recommended."

"Yeah, yeah" groused Athena as she attempted to pull whatever weapons were available from twin built-in SDUs. A disruptor pistol. Some kind of Trans-Galactic Republic energy rifle. One of her favorites, a Maliwan Volcano, which she found herself holding half of as the armor's power finally failed. The digistruct process only partially completed.

Other than the sun beating down on her, Athena became vaguely aware of whooshing noises and voices. In a haze, she realized rescue would not be coming, at least not right now. Out of sheer spite, she methodically destroyed every piece of her armor with her disruptor to keep it out of the hands of these other clones and whomever they served. At least she wouldn't bake to death (in-suit or out, she wouldn't have lasted long).

"You're coming with us, clone!"