Local Cluster
Earth, Unknown Location
Toller could feel the beginnings of an ache in her lower back that warned her she was sitting too long. She swept her gaze slowly across the bank of screens across the desk to check every area was in order before getting up. She shoved the chair behind the desk to free up space in the small room. Clasping her hands together, she began a series of stretching exercises, keeping her eyes on the security monitors as she did so. Counting silently, she began limbering bends, reaching down to touch the floor and exulted in the feeling of loosening muscles and tendons. It was only temporary, everything would stiffen up again after she sat back down for another long boil. Her shift was ending in two hours so it wasn't going to be too bad. A long run around the barracks before dinner would shake out the kinks.
As she straightened, her gaze met a pair of cool pale eyes through the wide windows of the room. It took a second to register there was a uniform looking at her. Another to recognize the four eight pointed stars with the crossed swords on the shoulder boards and the gold diamond-shaped insignia on the collar. Her spine automatically stiffened, her hand snapped up in a crisp salute before she knew who was standing before her. She tried not to wilt when the next second slammed home the identity of the officer.
"Admiral Hackett, sir!"
Toller struggled not to display her dismay at the squeak of her voice before a spark of annoyance flared with the guards at the entrance. They did not give her any warning. Perhaps they too were caught out like she was. The old man was known to make unexpected drop ins to prevent any attempt on his life. Her luck he chose her shift to turn up and caught her with her pants down. So to speak.
"As you were, Lieutenant," he said impassively.
Clearing her throat softly, she said carefully, "Would the Admiral require an escort to the TIC (tactical and intelligence centre)?"
Just as the words left her mouth, she noticed the four hardsuited and armed marine armsmen standing protectively around him. She fervently wished a hole would open up and swallow her whole for her inattention. One gaffe after another. What would the Admiral think?
"That will not be necessary, lieutenant. Carry on." Hackett turned to go but looked back to add, "Time spent to revive flagging diligence is time well used."
"Sir!"
She was grateful that her face was still flush to hide the next tide rising past her collar. She lowered it when he moved past the checkpoint. Exhaling noisily, she pulled out the chair and sat down. With the old man around and two hours more to go, she was going to keep every sensor about her on high alert. An extra boost was called for. She reached for the keyboard and typed a quick message into the canteen email box. A hot cup of coffee, extra bitter, ought to do the trick. Hopefully, she would be back at the barracks by the time the old man left. She'd rather not face him again. Not unless it was in better circumstances. An award ceremony or something. Yeah, that would be something but not likely to happen unless she pulled some other assignment than dogwatch. Heaving a sigh, she pulled up the daily log and began a new entry.
Beyond the checkpoint, Hackett's arrival was duly noted. The corridor the tiny group sailed through was empty. Or so anyone would think. A newcomer would be confused by the numerous intersections that were denuded of any directional signs. It was of no problem to the group for they visited the place so often they didn't need to consult the map in their omni-tools. They came to a large lift and took it down several floors. The marines peeled off to stand with a sentry quartet outside a pair of heavily armored doors. Hackett waited patiently for the security scanners to analyse and run through the checklist. With a soft hiss, the heavy doors open. He stepped into a cool cavernous room alight with a sea of displays.
Alliance personnel shifted and moved quietly as he strode along the banks of workstations ranged across the room. No one looked up. Not that the officers did not notice his presence. They were carrying out his standing order that no one was to disrupt their work when he came down to the war room. Gleaming large and bright in the center of the room was a holographic image of the Earth. The image spun slowly, hued in various colours and hosting numerous tags on every continent. He stood for a moment to examine it. Less than ten percent of the planet remained under TI control.
"Marvelous sight, isn't it, sir?" someone murmured on his right.
"Made possible by the enormous sacrifices of the men and women," Hackett said softly without taking his eyes off from the holographic image.
There was no suitable response Langdon could make to that statement. No doubt the old man felt the weight of those lives as he did. It was cruel but necessary if they want to reclaim their homeworld. All he could hold on to was the silver lining he could see in the distance. At present, the marine divisions were not actively engaged at the front line, they were maintaining the encirclement. Th TI had no where to go. The war against them would end. Langdon looked around the room. The new TIC would make it easier.
"What have you got for me?" Hackett asked.
Langdon waved at another holographic tank further away. "We're still collating various possible leads from the Omega files with the latest information from operative Raz but we're still a long way to forming a tangible projection for future hostilities." He fell into step beside Hackett as he headed to the second holographic tank.
"Any sign of the tracking beacons Aria planted on the freighters?"
"Not yet, sir. The beacons are medium range transponders. The best we can do is sling passive probes through systems and hope to pick something up."
Crossing his arms as they came to a stop before the holographic tank, Hackett gazed at the swirling image of the Milky Way. It was divided into different sectors, colour coded and tagged. "From which relay did the freighters depart from after the last drop at Omega?"
"They departed through the standard relay. We cross referenced the information from Raz with the registry of mercantile ships. The registries of the tagged ships are confirmed faked. They made hundreds of runs to Earth, Illium and surviving human colonies in the last five years before they dropped out of sight three months ago."
"What were they trading at Illium?"
"Food and seeds for metal scraps and technical components. New and used."
"What about itinerary?"
Langdon shook his head. "As far as we can determine, they filed false schedules. Once they were done with a supply drop, they changed ship registry before making another pick up at Illium. There are several confirmed sightings of these ships in the interim of their trips in several systems during the last twenty-two months. No sighting of them has been reported for the last three months."
"They stopped?" Hackett frowned, deep in thought. "Anything of significance to tie in with the cessation?"
"Only one," Langdon said grimly. "There was the SSV Kolin incident at the asteroid belts in the Dirada System. Activities of the freighters ceased after this point." He paused when a tech officer came up to speak to him. "We also found something of interest."
He called up a new topography, superimposed over the galaxy map.
"This is a chart of colony abductions and related incidents, the freighter routes, sightings and confirmed stopovers." Picking up a stylus from the nearest workstation, he highlighted several lines. "These are the routes of the freighters. The time stamps coincide with sectors where several abduction incidents took place."
Nodding thoughtfully, Hackett said, "Any sign they made contact with the local TI?"
"We have been unable to latch on to the encrypted com channels the TI are using," Langdon said regretfully. "We also have an update from the investigative teams at Alecto. They found heavy concentrations of metals and evidence of industrial machinery in isolated regions of the planet."
A gleam of disquiet flashed in Hackett's eyes. "They could be running a foundry." He stared at the galaxy map as he mentally shifted data around. "If there's one, there's more."
In his years of service in the Systems Alliance, he had attempted to bring about a concerted effort to cut the budding weed he could see spawning out of control when Cerberus began to leave footprints of their operations. His efforts was largely stymied by insufficient evidence, by people in the upper echelons who might or might not have supported Cerberus and politics. It was frustrating to be hampered. He could only watch the clenches of Cerberus spread further and further. The Reaper War swept away Cerberus support at home and destroyed most of their assets but he was still no closer to finding out where the dogs had hidden their reserves. The galaxy was a huge place to search but he wasn't going to give up.
"Send out the 71st and 75th scout flotillas along those routes and see what they can find. If any of the ships are still within those sectors, the tracker beacons would pinpoint their location," he said.
"Yes, sir." Putting back the stylus on the tech officer's workstation, Langdon said, "Coffee, sir?"
When Hackett nodded, he gestured the way to his office. "I'll say, sir, that they're lying doggo because of the hunt for Kolin's killers."
Hackett nodded. "That is a feasible assumption. What do you think of Shepard's hypothesis on the hierarchy's behaviour?"
"I think she is right. The current climate is greatly suitable for them to rebuild. There is no way we would be prepared for them years down the road."
Langdon opened the door of his office and locked it behind Hacket.
"If the Illusive Man did not designate a deputy to take over, I've to wonder who is trying to run Cerberus now." Hacket glanced around the office with approval. Unlike the sterile grey of most offices, the walls were shaded in white, blue and green. A couple of holopictures hung near the sitting area, opposite the desk. He sat down at the couch.
"There has to be more than one given the mistakes they have been making," Langdon said as he enabled the security field. No one would be able to see into the office, sounds were muted and if there were any bugs, they were rendered useless. He went to the small galley at the other end of the office and poured two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar. Placing a cup before Hackett on the coffee table, he sat down in a armchair. "With too many chefs at the pot, that will ramp up the chances of a conflict among themselves."
Clasping his hands together at his lap, Hackett said, "How are we doing with the internal screening?"
"Still in progress, sir," Langdon said evenly. "We have cleared the upper stratum but-," he drew in a deep breath, "it's going to take months to vet the rest. If there are Terra Firma sympathizers, there can't have been many of them."
"They wouldn't need many." Hackett regarded him sombrely. "All they need is one in the right place."
At the right time with the right lever. Langdon understood but trying to nail down the mole or moles was near impossible. Unlike a TI whose presence near any security scanner would immediately see to his or her arrest, a Terra Firma sympathiser or agent could not be identified so conveniently. Worse of all, with at least eighty percent of civilian and military archives destroyed in the war, there was no way to pull up old records to audit the backgrounds of Alliance personnel.
"It's going to be difficult, sir, I'm not sure we can find anything," he confessed unhappily. "We are certain they wouldn't insert anyone with the new intakes. That's too far down the chain for them to be of any use if they're planning to hit us in the next twelve months. Right now, the word about the digging is an exercise to spruce up personnel records but I'm sure everyone knows it's a witch-hunt."
Feeling in need of coffee, Langdon grabbed his cup and a generous mouthful. "All we can do now is keep on eye out for any strange activity in the divisions."
Hackett rubbed his chin absentmindedly. "We may have a bigger problem. The original premise on the abductions is based on the supposition the TI need more replacements for those who have succumbed to indoctrination atrophy. If the TI are not responsible, then either Cerberus or Terra Firma are the culprits. Additionally, taking into account on what we found in the Blackguard's AI core along with the reports from Primach Victus on the CSV Aurora, we have to factor the possibility that a larger number of Cerberus ships could be operated by human MM (machine mind)."
"I can't think which is worst. Turned into a TI or a mechanised part," Langdon muttered.
"Project Overlord was a disaster but it is clear they have learned from their mistakes and found a way to successfully control an indoctrinated or Reaper augmented subject merged with a V.I."
Langdon froze. "Sir, are you saying Cerberus is planning a galactic cybernetic attack?"
"It is a weapon," Hackett said quietly. "Shepard prevented the Archer V.I. from escaping but the incident has given Cerberus another weapon. Deliberately unleashing such a V.I. through the xtranet will spread chaos and disrupt all media and communications. An opportunity for the mole within our own bailiwick to strike. He could feed rogue programs into the Alliance mainframe and issue conflicting orders that tie up the defense fleet to no purpose. We will be left helpless, unable to retaliate because of our reliance on technology."
Numbed and whiteface, Langdon rubbed his face in a vain attempt to dispel the images that appeared before his eyes. The xtranet was one of many networks that linked every allied homeworld and colonies. From there, it would be easy for a hostile intelligence to seek out and squirrel through every link and take control, from basic operations like life support to industrial to military networks. He closed his eyes and mentally shook off the chill.
"They didn't deploy it during the war," he said.
"The Illusive Man was by all accounts, indoctrinated and not thinking straight. There is, however, no proof that he abandoned the project." Hackett reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. "I think he never did or we wouldn't be seeing the implementation in the ships we found. The question is who decided to use it and when was it executed?"
"Could it have been the beginning of the war that the project reached maturation?" Langdon suggested. "The ships could have been held in reserve. But if the project was only recently completed, the MM drones should infiltrate the mainframe of the ships we sent after them but they didn't."
Hackett looked at him speculatively. "What if they do have such capabilities?'
Langdon frowned. "Then I don't understand why they're not using it."
"They key could lie with the people who took over from the Illusive Man. There isn't much coherence with the raids they conducted. If they intended to stay out of sight, they should have kept to remote sectors but they were rooting about for resources out in the open. Yet their response to the Kolin incident was practical. They withdrew all their forces and hid the freighters. These actions and reactions is a baffling mixture of intelligent calculation and mental incompetence."
"Pardon me, sir, but intelligence does not conform to a single standard."
"They sent people to retake Omega. What does that say about them?"
"More signs of their mental degeneration, sir."
"They left their own troops and the Omega station to rot for over two years. Then they suddenly decided to retake Omega. Why? Was there something important on Omega? Why did they wait two years to acquire it? Is there a change at the helm?" said Hackett. "I'm incline to go with the supposition there may have been a group in control and there were internal conflicts. Now, I think there is one person in charge. Whoever it is did not try to send troops, he sent MM ships and mechs because he knew precisely what was on that station. If he wanted to retrieve his objective, the mechs can do it. If he wanted to get the station operational again, it would serve as a focal point to launch whatever plan he has in mind. What he did not count on was our own interest in that sector. There has been no further intrusions of the Sahrabarik System. This speaks of awareness and prudent assessment of the situation."
Oh the irony of it. Langdon shook his head. "I can't believe we have the pirate queen to thank for outmaneuvering Cerberus."
"The universe move in strange ways." Hackett smiled thinly. "Because of Aria T'Loak, we are forewarned. Let's not waste the chance we are given."
"Does this mean we will be going public with our allies?" Langdon could well imagine the reaction at the news. As if the TI was not enough, now the galactic community had to tangle with yet another foe.
"It's no longer a singular threat. We need as many eyes, ears and hands as we can get." Hackett considered before adding, "The geth are already monitoring the xtranet. They will attempt to block out an invasive intelligence should such event occur but we have to change the way the information and user systems are linked and handled. For now, we have to separate vital mainframes and construct several layers of security walls of our own."
"I'll assemble a team of specialists to look into it, sir." Langdon mentally made a note before a thought came to him. "Wouldn't the intelligence try to take the geth over?"
"They're fond of saying they had thought they could be taken over but the Reapers changed their minds." Hackett allowed himself a small smile when Langdon laughed. The younger man was altogether too seriously. An effect of his responsibilities but he thought Langdon shouldn't let it weigh on him so heavily. "They're aware of the possibility but insist there isn't much chance of that happening. We'll just have to take their word for it but let's make preparations for the worst of the worst situation."
One more bad scenario he would have to juggle with. Langdon tried not to sigh. "It's not going to be pretty if they fail."
To that, Hackett didn't comment. He could see the younger man feeling down in the dumps at the thought of another terrible conflict. "Call in the Normandy, EDI may have some insights to provide."
"Yes, sir." Langdon could use a drink but he didn't think Hackett would entertain a glass of whiskey. "What do you think, whoever is behind Cerberus now, would do next?"
"For that, we will have to look at the impetus behind Terra Firma. Every attempt must be made to locate those freighters. If we can find them, we should be able to determine Cerberus's hidden bases, their reserves and their intention." Hackett leaned forward to look at him steadily. "We survived the Reaper War, we can too, hunt those dogs down and see that they do not prosper. Are you with me?"
Was his despondency that obvious? Langdon felt a shaft of shame. All those men and women bravely facing down and fighting the TI, launching themselves into battle in the belief they were fighting for the future for the last five years and here he was, sitting behind the front lines, shaking at the knees from an overactive reaction to potential horrors and problems. Sitting on his fanny day after day was definitely turning him into a dysfunctional lump not fit to wear the Alliance uniform, much less calling himself head of intelligence. No, it was time to remember who he was. Be what he was.
His spine stiffened. "Yes, sir," he said firmly.
SSV Glasgow
Shoulders hunched, Kedar stared at the blank white walls of the small cabin. Other than the bed, the blanket, and the small washroom, there was nothing else. There was no water dispenser and no cups. There had to be a spy eye but he didn't bother to look for it. There was the locked door of the room. Outside that door were two marine guards. Farther out was a long empty passageway. There was nothing for him to do. There was no terminal and he had no omni-tool. The turian squad who came to arrest him at the Archives had confiscated it. They did not ask after his well being when they arrived. They had hauled him to his feet, searched and removed every item in his pockets.
Of course, they wouldn't ask if he was feeling fine. Not when he was responsible for triggering the force field that held most of the researchers prisoners for days. Aware but unable to move, he knew what it was like. The pain, the hunger and the thirst. Most of all, the indignity of soiling himself when he couldn't hold back any longer. The contempt and disgust on the faces of the turian soldiers had been more than he could bear and he had wept. It was worse when he was hauled up, still stinking, before the commanders of the base, read his rights and what decision was taken to deal with his crime before he was marched to the medbay where he was finally allowed to clean himself up and changed into clean clothing. An energy drink was all they gave him. Of course they couldn't feed him a normal meal at once.
He was not allowed to stay at the medbay. They imprisoned him in the dormitory he shared with the salarian contingent. His colleagues had bombarded him with questions from all directions that he could not answer. Overwhelmed with shock from his ordeal, he could only stare dumbly at them. They left him alone when he remained silent. All of them had turned away. He was sure his compatriots were more than pleased to be rid of him when he was transferred to the Alliance cruiser. His actions shamed them, making them his ersatz accomplices when they had done nothing.
The hiss of a opening door broke his thoughts. He looked up. A tall Alliance marine stood there, beckoning. It was always the same human, a Sergeant Harris, if he recalled correctly. He always showed up to escort him for his meals. Odd that. He thought the meals would be delivered to him. Perhaps they thought going to and fro for meals was better than his sitting in his prison day in, day out. Like an automaton, he stood up and shuffled over instead of stepping quickly over with his usual fast gait.
Not unkindly, the marine reached out to steady him when he stumbled at the door and then silently waved down the passageway. After more than a week he knew what was expected of him so he set off down the corridor. At the end of it, one of the marines at the lift hit the call button when they saw him and his escort. Nothing was said while they waited. Why would they?
The ride was silent. He wished he could continue to ride it down into the depths. His reputation was in ruins. Even if the Council sentenced him to imprisonment and he managed to survive long enough to be released, no one would ever employ him again as a researcher. He thought he was ready to accept failure but it was turning out different now that he did fail. Every accomplishment, every accolade was ground to dust by his actions. From where could he go from this unbearable hole he dug for himself? Home? His family would relegate him to the most menial tasks suitable for the lowest circle. There would be no mating negotiations or offers for him.
The door open. He walked slowly through the sparse human traffic in the passageway. Unlike the first day when he came onboard, no one now cast curious and questioning looks his way. He looked into every face he passed, hoping for...what? A warm expression? A friendly greeting? But every human was intent on his or her own intentions and sped speedily away. A hand on his shoulder halted him. He realised he had gone past the wardroom entrance. Silently, he turned, backtracked a few paces and entered.
The wardroom was half filled with officers, the hum of conversation and the aroma of food. A group was having a card game in a corner, two were having a chessboard game, three sat at the bar and several were having their meals. None of them looked up at his entrance. He headed automatically for the empty corner table. It was always the same table. There was no visible sign that it was to be his at this particular hour but it was always empty.
The marine sat opposite him but did not get a plate and pick his choices from the ration table. No, he was there to watch his prisoner, not have a meal. One of the galley crew approached with a bowl which he placed before Kedar and left without a word. Prisoner he might be, at least the humans were kind to feed him real food instead of tossing energy bars his way. On account of his status as a prisoner of a allied power, he supposed. The humans would hardly want to be accused of mistreatment.
Picking up the round metal spoon, Kedar tasted the stew and recognised it as one of many prepacked rations the salarian contingent brought to Ilos. It reminded him of the river mush of his hometown. Not as good when fresh but still tasty. Very tasty. The level of the mush fell to a quarter in the bowl when he heard someone's footsteps coming up beside him. He looked up to meet the impassive gaze of Captain Dorrin. Sgt Harris straightened but did not stand up. The quick flick of fingers from Dorrin told him to stay where he was.
"Please, there's no need to get up." Putting out a hand to halt the movement, Dorrin waited until the salarian settled back down. "I came by to see how you're doing."
"Very well, thank you..Captain Dorrin," Kedar said quietly. "You have messages for me?"
"You have good eyes." Dorrin smiled and handed over the datapad he was holding. "I'm here to inform you we'll be arriving at the Citadel in two hours. I'll leave you to your dinner." He nodded politely before walking away.
Who would be sending him messages? Turning the datapad over and over in his hands, Kedar wondered if he dared to read them for they surely held no good news. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the heading and saw there were only two messages. The first was an enormous surprise. Why would Jieull send him an email?
From : Jieull
To : Kedar Olor
Do you remember what fine conversations we've had? You were so adamant at finding a solution. I advised you to leave matters alone. The problems would see to themselves. But of course you wouldn't. You couldn't. Not with an ambition as ravenous as yours. For one supposedly intelligent and accomplished, you couldn't control yourself. If you had, you'd be ahead of the game. What do you say now? What are you going to do now? Are you confused? I do know what you are going to face soon. I wish you joy of it.
Why did she send him such a message? Confused, he stared at it for the longest moment before shaking his head. Reaching out with a long finger, he deleted the message. It was incomprehensible, why keep it? That left the second message. The datapad nearly slipped from his grasp. A wave of agitation swept through him when he saw it was from the Dalatrass of Magohr, the region in which his family resided. Such a message boded ill, given his circumstances. He was disinclined to read it but that would be most disrespectful and an insult. Taking a deep breath, he opened the message.
"Are you all right?" Harris asked gently when Kedar sat immobile for long minutes. It couldn't be good news. That was a given with the salarian's crime. Bad news always fall in torrents for those who fell by the wayside. He saw it often enough. The bleakness that took the life out of the person. The emptiness and lost of hope. He saw all these things in the salarian's eyes.
"You want to finish that?" He pointed to the bowl that still held some mush.
Shaking his head, Kedar erased the last message. "No." He placed the datapad on the table. "Can we go now?"
"You're sure?" Harris knew what the guy did but he didn't think the salarian deliberately set out to hurt people. "You don't want some tea or...?"
"No." Kedar stared at the table.
"Alright." Harris sighed as he stood up. "Let's go."
Most of the officers had finished their meals and gone off to spend the rest of their leisure time as they saw fit, leaving the wardroom to the chess players and the drinkers. They passed by the small bar where the three officers was sitting, nursing finger-size glasses of whiskey and chatting about holofilms. Kedar halted, eyeing the varied coloured bottles behind the bar.
"Perhaps a drink?" He turned to Harris who stared at him in surprise.
"You want a alcoholic drink?" Harris queried, not certain salarians drank alcohol. Human alcohol that was.
"Yes. May I?" Kedar asked politely, blinking rapidly.
Harris blinked. If the salarian wanted a drink to drive away some of that unhappiness, who was he to say no? "Ok, any particular poison?"
Seeing Kedar's confusion, he explained, "Type of alcohol? We have only human drinks here, are you sure you want one of those?"
"Yes, salarians can handle it. But perhaps you can choose? I have no idea what you have here." Kedar glanced at the bottles and the galley crewman polishing glasses behind the bar counter.
Scratching his chin, Harris frowned and took a few steps forward. "Well, there's..."
The moment the human was away from him, Kedar leaped forward and over the bar counter. The galley crewman yelped when he was shoved to one side, crashing into the bar counter. The impact propelled several cleaned glasses he had carefully stacked on the counter into the air. The officers stared in stun amazement. Kedar grabbed one of the bottles and smashed it. Pieces of glass flew. The officers blanched and threw up their arms to shield their faces. Several struck Kedar in the face but he held on firmly to the broken neck of the bottle.
Too late, Harris realised what he intended. "No!" He sprang forward, knowing he was not in time and could only watch helplessly when Kedar brought the broken bottle across his neck. Blood sprayed across the bar counter, drenching the humans in gory green.
