Chapter 104. Into the Shadow
25. April 2417 AD, Orbit around Hagalaz, HSASV Scott
"All combat personal, be advised. The relay is locked down and the Scott is moving into position for the drop-off. The second phase of the operation is now launching," the voice of some ground-control officer stated, prompting squads of BAR troopers to fall out into the direction of the rows of Kodiak shuttles and Vulture gunships now spinning up in the Scott's hangar.
They would launch in three waves, first the gunships to secure their approach, then the initial attack force of BAR troopers and Captain Furaha who would secure a beachhead and then finally the rest of the captain's unit and Morneau himself – a line-up he vehemently disagreed with but had still accepted because unlike the captain, the specialist wasn't exactly an expert at planning things like this. All he really needed was to be pointed in the right direction and that's exactly what Furaha had done. When the beachhead was secured and the rest of the BAR troops and Morneau had landed, he was supposed to figure out if their secondary target (Wong) was still alive and locate her. When that was done (or when it turned out to be vain because the Broker had already killed his hostage), he was supposed to close in on the Shadow Broker.
That worked for him.
"Guess I'll be seeing you on the ground," the specialist observed as Furaha pulled her helmet on. He got the logic of holding him back from the first Wave, but like he said to Furaha earlier, he didn't like the idea of not being the first one through the door. Especially not when he was the one who had pointed at the door to begin with.
"Not to worry, Specialist, we'll leave some for you," the biotic officer responded, most likely misreading his dislike as a sign of wanting to be in the thick of the fight. Granted, that was true to a certain extent – but this time around, it wasn't the decisive factor. He watched Furaha leave, adjusted the sling of his Valkyrie rifle and then joined the squad of marines with whom he'd be flying into battle by their Kodiak. Whether intentional on Furaha's part or not – it certainly made sense to have the initial attack be executed by the most experienced soldiers – Morneau's companions were some of the same young biotics who he'd run into two days ago. Diego, Rodriguez and some other familiar names like Hussein and Jorgensen plopped up on his HUD when he pulled on the helmet of his black HSAIS hardsuit.
Normally, he'd be surprised that the piece of custom-made gear Robin had made for him in the wake of Noveria had survived as long as it did. But considering that this was the first time he was wearing it since October, he figured that its unnaturally long lifespan was simply the product of his own unnatural lifestyle these past few months. Barring Kosh, he hadn't actually gotten shot at properly in months, which was rathe rare considering his previous track record, and even when he had gotten shot at, he hadn't worn the custom-made hardsuit.
Wearing HSAIS armor on an undercover assignment would have been sort of counter-productive, even if it would've been funny to see the looks on the mercs' faces…
He let go of that line of thought and returned to the task at hand.
Even if he'd already done it earlier, Morneau once more opened up his omni-tool to check that everything was in working order – just like last time, it was – and then turned to face the unit of marines, settling in by the door of the shuttle to silently wait for the go-signal.
The BAR troopers however had other ideas.
"Sick armor," Diego commented. "But what's with the purple glitter? Fashion choice?"
He glanced down at the small spots of glinting amethyst and then back to the biotic soldier. The material worked into his armor was only really noticeable right now due to the bright ceiling lights of the Scott's hangar. Anywhere else it would've just appeared black.
"Ablative armor. If someone hits me with biotics, it stops the current so I don't get caught in a permanent biotic field," he repeated from memory. That's how Robin had explained it to him, so that's how he'd pass the information on.
"Like an annihilation field?" the younger, female marine - Rodriguez - asked.
"Yeah. I made some pretty bad experiences with those in the past," he added, off-mindedly thinking back to Noveria before tugging his hands into the straps of the grey combat-rig attached to his armor. While the fact that he was using a magazine-less mass accelerator rifle meant that most of the larger mag-pouches had been replaced by smaller thermal clip carriers, his continued insistence to use his old SIS-8 pistol until it broke meant that unlike the rest of the group, Morneau was still carrying actual ammunition. As such his kit look like it had crawled out of the closing-days of the Fringe Wars and refused to acknowledge that it lived in a post-First-Contact world where things like powder-based ammunition were obsolete.
And while that was probably true…the rig did give him extra space for grenades and a place to put his hands…
"You spent some time with these Wave guys before today, didn't you, Sir?" the corporal of the small squad asked formally. His nametag read 'Prangley' and unlike with the other four names, Morneau didn't remember reading it before just now.
"Mhm," he nodded his head, reluctant to say anything else. It didn't stop the others from asking though.
"And? Are they as bad as everyone says?" Jorgensen injected.
He was about to retort that he hadn't gotten that impression when he'd made fools of them by sneaking into their headquarters or watched them blunder around when chased by an HSA gunship on Kosh, but then he remembered that the only reason he considered those things amateurish was because he had the skewed perspective of a highly trained HSAIS black-op operative with thirteen years of similarly dangerous experiences to look back on.
The people in front of him lacked that.
Hence…
"They're tough," he responded, diplomatically. "But so are we and between them and us, we've got the surprise advantage," he reasoned before adding what he'd always been told back at Grissom. "Stick to the plan and look out for your unit and you'll be fine," the statement would turn out to be a white-lie the moment they ran into the first former asari commando who'd walk over all of them with ease, but until then it'd put their minds at ease.
Or so he hoped.
He could tell that the group seemed to ponder on what he'd just said to them and the message that followed over the radio a few moments later certainly didn't help either.
"Landing successful and beachhead secured. Troops in contact and taking casualties. One shuttle down," Furaha declared in between the familiar noise of mass accelerator fire and biotic thumping. "Send in the second wave."
In response to the statement, Prangley briefly glanced at him before seemingly remembering that he was the corporal in charge. He gave the same order all the other squad leaders were giving to their units right now.
"Mount up," the corporal ordered, prompting the BAR troopers to climb into the Kodiak until only he and Morneau remained outside. Similar to Morneau, the young corporal seemed to wait for him to get in so that he could be the first to jump out of the door and into the line of fire. They stared at each other for a moment and after Morneau nudged his head towards the shuttle, Prangley yielded and got in second-to-last. After him, Morneau climbed inside and shut the shuttle door before taking the seat closest to the release hatch and glancing back at the unit.
He remembered what he'd promised and even if that had also been a white-lie, he'd at least try to get these guys through the op in mostly one piece. The list of regular soldiers who'd died for HSAIS missions was already long enough as things were. He certainly didn't want to expand it any further.
With a sigh, he strapped in just as the Kodiak shot out of the Scott's hangar and began the brief ride towards Hagalaz.
The entrance into its stormy atmosphere was marked by a clear announcement of the pilot and an even clearer shaking courtesy of the heavy winds blowing through the region where the Broker's ship was hiding. Furthermore, thanks of the Kodiak's exterior cameras, it was also signified by the sight of airburst ammunition exploding around an old batarian cruiser and a swarm of HSA gunships dodging said airburst ammunition and returning fire with streaks of blue mass accelerator canons and larger gauss rounds.
"LZ's coming up!" the pilot declared before a red light illuminated their Kodiak and the shuttle took a rapid dive when hundreds of small metallic splinters from a stray airburst grenade bounced off of the exterior armor. Luckily for them the aged shuttle wasn't called Combat Cockroach for nothing. It shrugged the stray-hit off and – as seen on the now damaged exterior camera – continued to fly into the rectangular hangar of the cruiser as if its armor hadn't just gotten shredded by a cloud of high-velocity shrapnel that would've torn most other ships of its size into flaming pieces.
Morneau tracked their progress on the camera.
Their entrance, the armored hangar door which used to be oriented up towards the sky, had been blown open by a large explosion and a fire smoldered on the ground where its destroyed remains had crashed down. Surrounding said central fire were several more scorch marks, a few bodies clad in white armor, the burning husk of a green HSA shuttle and a soldier in BAR armor waving for the shuttles to steer to the right to avoid the heat of the flames and the sporadic gunfire aimed towards the center of the hangar from somewhere up ahead. The pilot of their craft obliged and touched down before releasing the doorlock and allowing Morneau and the squad of young biotics to jump out.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, he went for the closest cover – a spaceship- and oriented himself in the hangar. First was their general position. From his perspective, they were standing in the right portion of the light-brown hall, taking cover just next to a pair of dark-red ships of unknown design that looked like they had been through the ringer. They were roughly the size of two Kodiaks, had particularly large doors and cockpit windows and were covered in spots of black that could have been either glyphs and writing or dirt and damage. While no doubt strange, they didn't make sense to him and weren't important to the mission, hence he went on.
He couldn't immediately see live enemies, which made sense considering Furaha was only supposed to call once the LZ was secured, but he did notice a few bodies clad in white armor. Most looked like they'd been killed by the initial blast of whatever had blown open the door…
Speaking of.
He looked to where the BAR trooper from earlier was waving for him and decided that his position was as good of a covered spot as his current one. He scanned the way he'd have to go, found no obvious threats, and began to jog towards it, the squad he was accompanying following in his footsteps.
As he approached the position, which consisted of the remains of the destroyed hangar door and a line of supply containers that had gotten partially crushed by pieces of said door, he noticed that his HUD was showing Captain Furaha up ahead. She, alongside ten other troopers, were waiting just outside of a door from which bursts of blue tracers were flying every now and again. He'd assume that those were the coming from the ship's defenders and then took a knee next to the trooper, who seemed to hold this position due to the three injured HSA troopers and medics attending to them behind the safety of the debris.
"How's it looking?" Morneau asked all the while looking into the other direction of the hangar where the biotic shocktroops seemed to have made more progress.
"Four KIA, including the pilots, another five wounded," the man retorted before a lone mass accelerator round bounced off the floor next to them. While he and Morneau were unbothered by the shot and did nothing but duck back down, the BAR squad following the specialist flinched back from the sparks it produced upon impact. "Our first assault towards the ship's engines and reactor is working, but they're fighting tooth and nail to keep us away from the bridge." In accordance to standard boarding procedures, the HSA troops weren't focusing their entire energy on one objective, but rather on multiple crucial points of interest spread out across the ship. Whereas the engine and the reactor were to be secured to ensure that the ship couldn't leave or be destroyed, they were fighting their way to the bridge because according to Aganian's files, that was where the Broker's actual base of operations was located. "You'd think they'd be more interested in keeping the lights on but clearly," the trooper went on before another round came flying, "they're much more invested in keeping us away from whoever's hiding up ahead."
"Well, he is the one paying their bills," Morneau figured in return before risking another peak around their cover just in time to see the squad begin its assault under the combination of suppressive fire, hand grenades and biotics. Standard doctrine for the BAR.
"Your guess is as good as mine, but yeah. Probably," the trooper retorted. "Captain told me to give you this," he reached for a disconnected omni-tool lying next to him. It was covered in a spray of acidic-green salarian blood but other than that, it looked to be fully functional. "Said it might help you with finding our secondary," Morneau took the omni-tool from the trooper and immediately started it up. He ignored the fiery explosions and biotic thuds produced by the BAR's assault and scanned the omni-tools contents for blueprints or anything else that would tell him where captives might be held. He found what he was looking for under the category of 'assets-on-site', which pointed to the brig of the batarian cruiser that was situated in between the hangar and the bridge and then downloaded the map to his HUD.
In retrospective, the brig should've been a pretty obvious guess when it came to where the prisoners were being kept. He shut the omni-tool down, stashed it in an empty pocket of his chest-rig for safekeeping and patted Prangley on the shoulder.
"We're moving," he told the corporal. If their secondary was in between him and the Broker anyways, he might as well see to her liberation personally. Despite the persona of Solomon Gunn being dead and buried, he couldn't claim to not feel the slightest bit responsible for what had happened to the journalist and as such, he'd see to it that she left this ship in one piece.
"Copy that, Sir. Where to?" the soldier responded while rallying his squad.
Morneau pointed the way the gunfire was coming from.
"The brig," he told them before peaking around the cover. Furaha seemed to have advanced into the corridor but that didn't mean that the sporadic shot didn't find its way towards the hangar. He looked back to the young troopers. They looked like a quick bunch, so they'd be fine. Probably. "Follow me and don't stop," he instructed them. While he couldn't be exactly sure, he had the suspicion that this was their first taste of live-fire combat. If that was true, this was one hell of an op to get baptized in.
Prangley nodded his understanding and not a second later, Morneau started to sprint towards the doorframe that Furaha's unit had just fought through. They way itself wasn't all that far and by all accounts, the Final Wave mercs up ahead should've been distracted with Furaha's attack, so he didn't figure to actually draw any fire with his little stunt.
... that was a wrong assumption.
While Prangley, the first two troopers after him and Morneau himself got through without getting hit, the closing two members of the fireteam had to dodge a burst of well-aimed mass accelerator fire. It bounced off the last soldier's shields - according to the nametag on Morneau's HUD, that was Diego - and just as the first purple spots started to appear around him – indicating that his barriers were also being affected – he leapt for the safety of cover, breathing heavily as a result of his near-death experience. Morneau threw a glance at the young man. In the pre-First Contact age, he would now be dead. But thanks to the advent of biotics and infantry shields, he had survived.
While it was probably best not to think about that, Morneau made a mental note of what had just happened. Given his intention to not expand the list, he'd do things differently next time.
"You good?" Morneau asked into his direction before creeping towards the edge of the doorframe to slice the corner and check if the way forward was safe.
Meanwhile Diego patted himself against the chest and looked down at his legs as it to check if everything was still attached to him.
"Yeah. Yeah. I think I'm good."
"You think?" the somewhat calmer Corporal Prangley retorted.
"No, I am," Diego responded, somewhat more certain before getting up and rolling his neck. "Just took some hits to the barrier, that's all," he went on while Morneau slowly edged his way around the doorframe, Valkyrie at the ready. Normally, he would have preferred to do this a little faster, but considering who they were up against and who was following his every footstep, he needed to be a bit more cautious. The Wave weren't your average rent-a-guns who couldn't hold a candle to decently trained soldiers. These guys were professional killers and the pair of burned corpses in BAR armor that had just entered his vision in the corridor confirmed that much.
One wrong move and that could be any of them.
He steadied his breaths and continued his corner slicing until he spotted living HSA troops hunkered behind a corner. As soon as he registered their presence, he lowered his weapon and watched them go through their assault routine, first suppressive fire, then grenades and biotics.
Only when they had cleared their position did he wave for Prangley to step up next to him.
The corporal obliged.
"Alright, we're moving to the next corner. I'm holding this angle and you move up to there," he said, pointing at the cover the other BAR troops had just occupied. "Don't go any further. The fighting's going to be just up ahead from here," as if to reinforce his point, a loud burst of machinegun fire ripped through the corridor. Going by the cadence, the distinctively high-pitched whine that every burst carried and the bright orange trail the rounds left in their wake, he figured that they were dealing with turians using incendiary ammunition, which also explained the burned bodies from just now.
The soldier nodded in return. If he felt like the specialist was baby-sitting them – which Morneau definitely would have felt like if the roles were reversed – he didn't say so. Instead, he just complied with the order and moved his unit up. "We go in one row," Prangley instructed before looking at Diego, "this time I'm going last. Get set," the corporal said while tugging his rifle close to his chest to make running easier. "and go!" he shouted before running towards where Morneau had pointed, his squad following in his footsteps.
Although they still drew fire, they got through without any of them getting hit… telling Morneau that this time around, it'd be him. Whoever was aiming their way was now aware of them, which was exactly why he'd sent the younger soldiers ahead of him. This way, he – who was wearing experimental body armor, carrying a state-of-the-art barrier generator and had much more experience with maintaining his barriers – would be the one getting hit. Just like Prangley, he decided to tug his Valkyrie close to his chest before launching into a sprint and just like expected, he didn't get five steps out of cover before incendiary rounds impacted against his shields. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the source of the gunfire – a murder hole cut into the wall facing the way he was running from – and see Furaha's unit engage said murder hole.
With a blaring sound, his shields overloaded and he threw himself into the safety of the corner before any hits could impact with his barriers. He hit the ground, exhaled and climbed back to his feet. If this was how they'd progress from here on out, they were literally playing with fire. He got up to the corner to check where the next available cover was before suddenly remembering the blue prints he'd just retrieved. He had just focused on the main route, but unless he was remembering the brief glance he'd gotten wrong, there was another way around this. he ignored yet another combination of suppressive fire, grenades and biotics and brought up the map.
"Everything good?" one of the troopers asked him, to which Morneau only showed him a thumbs up before looking at the holographic representation of the cruiser. He narrowed his eyes for a second but then found what he was looking for: a way for them to circumvent Furaha's direction of assault and get to the hostage and the Broker without going through the most obvious, most heavily fortified way. Granted, it would leave them on their own and the Wave would no doubt have at least posted a skeleton crew to guard their flank, but if Furaha' kept up the heat and managed to bind the Final Wave's forces, it'd still see them go through less resistance.
They could take a left here towards a small corridor which would bring them through a vehicle bay, towards the lower caste barracks – which would hopefully be empty – and finally into the security post of the brig. He downloaded the new route to his HUD and shut the omni-tool. He already had a decent idea how to sell this change of plans.
With a push of a button on his chest-rig, he activated his radio, all the while already walking towards the shut entrance to his left.
"Captain Furaha, this is Magic. I've got a way to flank the positions up ahead. If you've got any men left, tell them to follow my ping."
After a distant explosion, the captain responded.
"Good copy, Magic. I'll see what I can do."
He nodded towards the door that would take them there. The red hologram in front of it marked it as locked, but that'd only be a temporary problem. Aganian had given them details on the Wave's security, after all. "Who's the squad's tech guy?" First they'd try the soft way and if that failed, they'd just have to brute-force it.
"I am," Rodriguez responded quickly.
"Think you can get us through?"
The young woman looked at the brownish piece of aged batarian tech and the black box that had been strapped on top of what used to be its lock.
"I'll see what I can do," she moved past another trooper whose nametag read Hussein and tapped him on the shoulder. "Cover me." The two moved towards the door with Rodriguez focusing on the Wave's upgrade to the lock and Hussein covering the side of her that'd be exposed when the door opened. Meanwhile Morneau moved to the other end of the door, set on leading the way. He took up his position and waited for Rodriguez to do her work. After a couple of moments however, he was approached by a young corporal who seemed set to take his spot.
"Let me be on point, Sir" Prangley said. "You're too important to the mission to take these risks."
Without taking his eyes of the still closed door, Morneau shook his head. From a tactical point of view, the BAR trooper was obviously right, but that didn't change the fact that he'd be damned if he let other people run into his mess, especially if this was their baptism by fire.
He spent a second coming up with a sound reason and then replied.
"I've got the map, so I'm leading the way," he shot one glance at the still working Rodriguez who seemed to finally have interfaced with whatever security lock the Wave had put in place and was rapidly going through the necessary step to unlock the door. As he had figured. Thanks to Aganian's information, circumventing it wasn't be that much of an issue. "Besides, your main concern should be your team. Watch their backs, not mine," he said towards Prangley. He figured that was as nice of a way as saying 'I can take care of myself' as possible but the lack of a reaction from the corporal made it hard to tell.
"Copy." That was the only reply the soldier gave before Rodriguez gleefully exclaimed that she was 'in'.
"Breach it then," he instructed before the marine nodded and removed the red hologram with a flick of her hand. "Everyone set?"
A few affirmatives echoed through their squad intercom and after a quick countdown from Prangley, the door was opened to reveal what should have been the cruiser's vehicle bay.
But instead of being filled with vehicles, blue-glowing servers and associated cooling mechanisms were stacked from the floor all the way to the ceiling.
One of the bar troopers let out a low whistle while Morneau walked into the darkened room. After a second of activating his night vision, he decided that the glow of the servers would render NVGs useless and as such flicked on the flashlight attached to his rifle. It wasn't ideal, but it would work. The BAR squad followed his example and – since he was still the one with the map – his lead.
"That's a lot of data storage," Rodriguez muttered as they moved through the vehicle bay, following the flow of a large cable and a row of dim, reddish ceiling lights that clashed with the blue glow of the servers. "What do you figure's on there?"
"This is the Shadow Broker's ship. So probably blackmail material," Diego retorted while Morneau kept his eyes forward and checked every small corner and angle he came across. The fact that these servers weren't guarded by anything other than a lock either meant that the Wave hadn't expected someone to break their encryption or that whatever was stored on these things wasn't worth defending in face of the larger assault going on elsewhere.
Well.
It could mean that or indicate that they were about to walk into a trap.
Either way, he was ready for shit to go down at any given moment.
"Seriously though. You'd think this would be secured better," Rodriguez once more spoke up. "I mean isn't this half the reason we're here to begin with?"
"Didn't you pay attention during the briefing? We're here for the Broker, not his data," Prangley suddenly injected, voicing the official mission statement of this operation. While it was true to an extend that HSAIS wanted the Broker out of commission more than anything, one glance at the servers told Morneau that someone somewhere up the chain of command would rub his hands with glee as soon as he heard what was inside this vehicle bay.
… speaking off.
It was probably best to tell someone about this in case their enemy got any ideas of enacting a scorched earth policy.
"Captain Furaha, Magic again. We've made headway on our route and found a large server room in what used to be the ship's vehicle bay. I suggest you sent someone to secure it whenever that's possible."
"-opy tha-" the captain's initial reply only came back hacked-off and interrupted by a loud machine gun burst. But before any of them could worry what that meant for her well-being, she went on. "We've met heavy resistance from a fortified position," the murder holes, probably, "so whenever you can swing through the brig," she trailed off. This was exactly what he had figured would happen once they lost their initial surprise advantage: the Wave living up to its reputation. Now that the shock of someone having found them was gone, the mercs were giving the BAR one hell of a fight and showing off their various military backgrounds.
In response to Furaha's request, he picked up his pace and started to advance as fast as he could without throwing caution out of the window. He led the team to the end of the vehicle bay turned server farm and then into the adjacent and equally dark low-caste barracks, where they luckily found nothing but three empty, albeit surprisingly large sleeping mats that had been left in a hurry and half-way closed lockers made for gear too large to fit anyone but a gigantic krogan. He shone his light onto the strange sleeping mat. They seemed to be made from actual animal skin and looked large enough for two krogan, who were about the only people other than elcor to sleep on the floor or on animal skin. He narrowed his eyes. Elcor didn't make a habit of being mercs and he didn't remember the Wave ever hiring a single krogan.
Other than a krogan, there was only one kind of species he could think of that would require gear of this dimension… and considering where the Broker apparently hailed from, the assumption forming in his head wasn't that unlikely, even if it sounded impossible on the surface.
… only one way to know for sure.
Despite Furaha's previous request for him to hurry up, Morneau suddenly stopped pushing forward and instead kicked open one of the lockers. Immediately, a helmet the size of his own torso came tumbling towards him. It was roughly triangular in shape and consisted of a grey and black alloy cover and a large, transparent visor that seemed to have been custom-made to accommodate an equally triangular-shaped mouth.
"That's a weird-ass helmet," Jorgensen muttered. "Who wears something like that?"
Morneau looked at the otherwise empty inside of the locker and noticed the larger-than-average weapon rig build into its left compartment. A large gun of unknown making that vaguely resembled an old SR-7 – at least in its bullpup design and optics - was still stored inside it and the barrel alone was as wide as his forearm.
He'd hate to be hit with that.
And he'd hate it even more to run into someone who could fire something like that.
"Yahg do," he pushed the talk-button again while thinking back to the unknown ship in the hangar.
"That's impossible, the yahg can't leave Parnack. Everyone knows that," Jorgensen retorted from across the room.
"They can if someone in the quarantine zone fucks up bad-time," Hussein countered, to which Morneau nodded. He needed to tell Furaha.
Yahg were an unknown factor, which made them inherently problematic.
"Furaha, the Broker brought his yahg buddies to the party. Be careful-" he started before his eyes picked up a large flicker of light that moved through the cone of his flashlight.
Optic camo.
In an instant, he let go of his push-to-talk button and snapped his rifle at the presumed center of mass of the invisible figure. As soon as his sights were aligned, he pulled the trigger, fully intent on only stopping when whatever was hiding itself in front of him was dead. But instead of killing the hidden foe, his rounds to harmlessly bounce off a purple barrier.
Biotics.
He shot until his rifle vented hot steam and a yahg materialized in front of him, smiling what presumably passed as a smirk among triangular-mouth-folk.
As soon as he registered what he was facing down – a biotic yahg – Morneau ejected the spent thermal clip and took a quick step away from the container and looked at the enormous alien in front of him, too occupied with thinking of a way to kill that thing to notice that no one else but him seemed to be shooting.
He wouldn't blame them, though.
It was one thing to read about three-point-five-meter aliens with enough muscles to rip a krogan in half. It was a whole other thing to look one in the eyes and realise that a Council survey ship leaking half its Eezo across Parnack's surface had had some unfortunate, biotic consequence after all…
After what felt like a small eternity (in reality it was probably just a second or so) of everyone else present trying to come to terms with the fact that they were looking at a biotically gifted, yahg with optical camo clad in what was essentially mech-grade armor that had somehow managed to sneak up on them, Prangley yelled 'engage' and the BAR soldiers opened fire.
As sporadic bursts of mass accelerator fire hit the yahg, it shielded its face with one arm and reached out with its other hand to grab Morneau. In response, the specialist jumped sideways and stumbled against the enormous locker before dodging another punch that crushed the metallic construct as if it were a tin can. As the yahg retracted its hand from the hole it had punched into the locker and the wall, Morneau joined in on the shooting. First an electric-blue and then a dim purple flash erupted from it, signifying that its shields had just broken down.
Whereas someone else would now have made a run for cover, the yahg in front of them seemed unphased by the fact that six mass accelerator rifles were riddling it with holes right until one of said rifles got lucky, hit its visor in the right spot and spattered its brains against the wall. As it collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood, Morneau took exactly three steps backwards before remembering something far more crucial.
There'd been three sleeping mats.
And this was just one yahg.
So where the fuck-
- just as he heard the faint but treacherous noise of armor-servos squeaking (which for a wholly incomprehensible reason was about the only sound that the gigantic creature seemed to make), a scream straight out of a nightmare echoed through the barracks. He spun towards the source and saw a BAR trooper with his head trapped inside the iron grasp of a half-way visible yahg. His HUD identified the soldier as Hussein and despite being baffled by the concept of getting ambushed by a yahg, Morneau immediately searched for a clear line of fire. But before he could get a good angle and even think about pulling his trigger to save Hussein, something hit the specialist from behind and sent him flying straight through the barracks. He hit the floor – all the while thinking that he had just found number three - rolled several times over and only stopped when he crashed into a wall with his back.
While his entire world was now positively spinning and hurting, he still somehow managed to stumble to his feet without wasting a beat. He ignored the iron taste in his mouth and sting in his side and managed to orient himself just in time to see a large alien squeeze its hand around Hussein's head with enough force to make it pop like a blood-filled balloon.
And while that sight was already terrifying by itself, the realization that his Valkyrie was missing and that another yahg was materializing in front of him and silently marching towards him with the intention of doing the same to him was way worse. As it approached, Morneau realized that it was carrying what he was missing, his assault rifle, and groaned in frustration. Of course the one and only time his sling failed him in thirteen years was the one time he really needed it to work. After making a point of look it at him, the yahg snapped the HK-made weapon in two pieces like it was a twig before discarding it and pulling out a strangely bent knife the size of a huge sword.
The specialist shook his head clear. Since the BAR troopers engaged one of the two remaining yahg as a team using their weapons and biotics, he'd have to take on the hulking mass of armor and muscle currently slow-walking up to him all by himself.
He eyed the huge, curved sword.
… it couldn't be worse than fighting an asari matriarch and her posse of indoctrinated commandos… right?
After the thought crossed his mind, the specialist did what he did best, improvise.
As the yahg took another step to him, Morneau quickly pulled out his trusty SIS-8 and one of the grenades attached to his chest rig. Meanwhile, the heavily armored alien presented its blade and muttered a single phrase in a snarling, nearly incomprehensible version of the English language made all the worse by the fact that its mouth was clearly not designed to speak said language.
"Human vermin. Know that you will die for the sins your insolent, intrusive forbearers committed against my kin," it growled, probably. The whole alien mouth thing made it hard to tell. Next it flashed its triangular maw of teeth at him, wholly ignorant of the fact that Morneau had already pulled the pin of his hand grenade with the intention to add another 'sin' to the list of wrongs his 'kin' seemed to have been collecting for the last thirty-something years.
In his head, Morneau began to count. One… two. He had no idea if the alien was taking this overly long and dramatic pause in an attempt to savor the moment or if it simply didn't know any better than to not taunt enemies with hand grenades… but he wasn't going to give the yahg a chance to rectify its mistake.
…three.
In one moment, the alien was eagerly taking a step forward to cut him into pieces, in the next its eyes widened behind its visor when a cylindrical hand grenade was rolled towards its feet.
Since he'd intentionally shortened the fuse by counting away three of its five seconds, the yahg had no time to react to the explosion at its feet. Morneau however could bring up his barriers to shield himself from the worst of the blast. While its ultra-heavy armor made sure that his little grenade trick wasn't enough to kill the yahg - which luckily didn't seem to be biotic or at the very least not talented or fast enough to generate a barrier - the injuries and the shock that the blast delivered to the yahg was the only opening Morneau ever needed.
In the wake of the explosion, the yahg dropped to its knees, effectively making it only somewhat taller than the specialist himself. It dropped its blade and let out a painfilled roar. Blood dripped to the floor and the sword clattered down next to it. While it was busy bleeding, Morneau pulled another grenade out and started to run. As soon as he had picked up some speed, he removed the pin of the explosive, shot his pistol at the yahg's somewhat exposed mouth – if only to distract it for a second or two more – and then, right he was next to it, he lodged the grenade into the large collar of the yahg's enormous armor. It turned its head to roar and made a move to reach for the grenade, but it was already too late. The specialist slid for the closest cover he could find – another one of the massive, container-like lockers, and behind him, the grenade exploded.
The blast and shrapnel decapitated the yahg and sent the remainders of its head flying towards Morneau's feet. For a moment, he was irritated by the fact that the head still seemed to be blinking at him and ignored the urge to throw a snarky remark along the lines of who had just died for who's insolent forbearers at it. Instead, he went to locate the squad of BAR troopers to see if they needed help. He scanned the room with his trusty pistol and when he didn't immediately find them where he'd last seen them, Morneau feared the worst...
…but then he luckily spotted the remaining soldiers standing on the far side of the room. They had killed their second yahg, a task made infinitely more easily by the fact that they still had their modern, armor-piercing assault rifles and not just a well-aged pistol and dirty tricks. Three of them, Prangley, Rodriguez and Jorgensen, were watching their surroundings while one, Diego, was kneeling over the fifth member of their squad, the clearly deceased Hussein, and staring at the body, bloodied ID tags in hand.
After throwing a final look at the head – which had still not stopped its creepy blinking - Morneau hurried over to the group to say and do something he realized would make him seem like the coldest, most heartless creature on the face of the galaxy.
"He's dead and we need to keep moving," he stated. "The longer we stay here, the worse it'll get for Furaha and her men," he went on before immediately kneeling down to retrieve Hussein's assault rifle and other mission-sensitive equipment like grenades and thermal clips. Grave robbery or not, the truth of the matter was that unlike him, the dead trooper would no longer need it. As he unclipped the weapon off the dead body, all the while taking care not to look at the remainders of Hussein's head to avoid adding yet another image to the gallery of horror that already haunted him whenever he went to sleep, Morneau realized that if this was the squad's baptism by fire, this was also the first time they'd lost anyone on their team.
While the other three seemed to at least be capable of falling back on their training, Diego was clearly frozen. That was the thing about live-fire combat. You could give someone the best training in the world, put them through seven years' worth of military academy curriculum and another year and a half of actual combat training… and even then, you'd only really find out if they broke under pressure when the bullets started flying past their heads.
He attached the scavenged rifle to his kit and looked at the still kneeling BAR trooper before deciding to drag him to his feet alongside himself.
"You can't do anything for him anymore," he told Diego before looking at the ID tags in the trooper's hands and ripping them away from him. As long as he was holding onto those, he wasn't going to snap out of it. When that was done, Morneau squeezed the softer armor of the man's neck to get his attention. It worked. Now a blackened visor was staring back at his own polarized helmet.
"Hussein's gone. You aren't," Morneau said as clear as day, well aware that his promise to Furaha was now officially broken. He'd expected it to happen, obviously, but that didn't mean that it sucked any less. "And whatever's going through your head right now, is gonna get you killed if you let it," he argued before deciding to pull something out of the psychological toolkit Redford had handed him at the start of his training. "Put what just happened in a box and don't allow it to rule you until the mission's over," he added calmer, giving the trooper one final neck squeeze and stuffing the bloodied ID tags into one of the soldier's pouches where he'd find them later on.
"Focus on what you can control and blend out everything you can't. That's the only way you'll get through this," he then threw a look at the group and started to walk the way he needed to go. If they followed him, good. If they didn't, he'd still manage. "Furaha needs us to open up the flanking route. Let's hurry," it wasn't an order and since Diego initially remained silent, Morneau didn't know if any of the questionably helpful advice he'd just given had worked. Only when the younger biotic shouldered his rifle, nodded and fell in behind Prangley, who swiftly followed Morneau as he led them past the remains of the yahg he had killed and towards the brig, did the specialist breathe in relieve.
Traumatized or not, at least they were still working.
That was all he could ask of any of these guys.
On his way out of the barracks, they passed the head and body of the decapitated yahg. Morneau, who threw a final glance at it to check if the blinking had stopped (it finally had), now realized how they had gotten the drop on them when he spotted a box on the back of its armor. They were wearing noise-cancelling armor, which given the optical camo and the fact that something as large as them couldn't make a single step without alerting everyone in the adjacent building to its presence, made a whole lot of sense.
He shook his head at the body and left the room behind.
… biotic yahg ninja assassins with optic camo in the employ of the Shadow Broker.
What an utterly terrifying concept he hoped to never run into ever again.
.. still not as bad as an asari matriarch, though.
After they left the barracks behind, it was once more corridors and corners until they hit the point where Furaha was pinned, the security post of the brig. If he read the map right, they'd just need to walk through a few doors to reach the back entrance of said security post. From there on out, they could circumvent the Wave's defenses, get into the brig to rescue the hostage and then make their way towards the Shadow Broker's presumed location on the bridge.
Since they were still in hostile territory, the 'hurrying up' he had encouraged the squad to partake in was actually more of a fast room-by-room and corner-by-corner clearing that ended five minutes later when Morneau crept into the security post and sliced open a corner until he stared at the backs of three, white-armored figures with a turian build and the shocked, plated face of a fourth one.
While the three with their backs turned to him were firing Hierarchy-made Revenant machineguns through small holes in the wall – no doubt pinning Furaha's forces – the shocked one was carrying a crate with replacement parts, which he dropped as soon as he stared down the barrel of Morneau's borrowed assault rifle. The Wave merc tried to go for his Carnifex and he was fast enough to nearly aim it at the specialist… but the bursts of Valkyrie fire both Morneau and Rodriguez, who had stepped up next to him, unleashed on him were faster than his quickdraw.
They killed him before he ever had a chance to fire off one poorly aimed shot.
Alarmed by the gunfire behind them, the other three turians had more time to react. But their heavy weapons and their positions at the barricade put them at a disadvantage that they couldn't make up for. Just like their companion, they were killed in an unceremonious fashion very unbefitting of what Morneau assumed to be a collection of former Cabals, Recon troopers or Armigerians. (Those were after all the Wave's favorite turians to recruit after all.)
After quickly double tapping the bodies of the gunned-down turians – a practice that seemed to shock the surviving BAR troopers, who unlike Morneau had probably been trained to capture injured foes instead of making sure they were dead- the specialist spun on his heel and pushed his talk-button.
"Captain Furaha, we've cleared the fortified position ahead of you. If you're clear, we'll advance to the brig now," he said while waving towards the brig, eager to find out if the Wave had iced their captive the moment the HSA had landed or if he'd still find a live hostage. Naturally, he was hoping for the second option, but in secret he was already bracing himself for the first possibility, if only to not get messed up by the sight of Wong- he mentally corrected himself - the hostage's mangled corpse.
"Copy that, Magic. You can advance. We'll use the opening you gave us to close in on the bridge. Report back when you've secured the secondary," there was a brief pause. "Good luck."
For a second he considered saying nothing or at the very least informing Furaha that he was already down one soldier. But then he pushed his talk-button and offered a one-word reply. "Likewise," casualties like the one he'd taken were face-to-face news.
He'd deliver word of his failure personally when this was over.
But right now, he needed to kick down a cell door.
Meanwhile, The Inside of a Prison Cell – Presumably, at least.
Other than being confident that this wasn't the Citadel, Emily Wong had no idea where she was. The room she'd been in for the past… however long … looked like something out of a snuff film. Torture instruments, metal shackles, bright ceiling lights; the whole package.
Similarly to not knowing where she was, she also had no idea what time it was. Her only indication of time was that she'd slept ten times since getting captured. But considering the circumstance, exhaustion was hardly a reliable indicator.
Hence, from her perspective, it was day whatever in location wherever in her wholly undeserved, personal nightmare.
Ever since getting kidnapped, Wong had only been able to be certain of two things, the people who had taken her were the Final Wave and the reason they had captured her was because of something called 'Insight', or at least that was what they had been interrogating her about for the past however many hours.
Whenever she told them that she had only been looking to screw Hahne-Kedar over, she got the stun-rod and whenever she said that she didn't know who Insight was or who had fed her the information about all the Hahne-Kedar stuff, she also got the stun-rod.
… everything else was unknown to her.
… okay that wasn't actually true.
In addition to the who and the why of her capture, she had also figured out what had led to it in the first place.
Her editor and that volus weasel had ratted her out.
The Wave's chief torturer, a purple asari with a sadistic grin, had told her so herself while flashing the laughably small sum of credits that had made Shae sell her out.
In the wake of the revelation -which had made Wong feel many things, chiefly of all stupid and hurt – she'd first despaired. But after several beating sessions and murder fantasies regarding the pair of traitors, she'd gotten over that to focus on the second, more recent revelation.
Her captors were in trouble.
Starting roughly fifty door-light blinks ago (that was how she had kept track of time, by looking at the blinking light of the door that seemed to show that the alarm was armed by flashing every fifty seconds) the majority of mercs interrogating her, including that wretched asari who had taken pleasure in stun rodding her when she did as much as breath the wrong syllable, had ran off in a hurry after the place they were in had shaken like it had been in the epicenter of an earthquake. Now she was all alone, except for a salarian in white armor who'd been left with her because he was apparently the least experienced of the cadre of assassins that had captured her and as such he'd gotten stuck with guard duty.
As another earthquake-like pulse rocked the room they were in, the salarian nervously glanced at the door. When he was distracted, Wong once more wiggled at her metal shackles, again to no avail. She obviously knew that it was a delusion on her part that she could somehow break out of here, overwhelm the salarian in front of her – who considering the Wave's recruitment standards was probably anything ranging from a grizzled Union Navy Infantry veteran to a disgruntled STG operative – and then escape form wherever she was being held…
… but since this little earthquake episode was probably the best chance she'd ever get to try anything, she'd be damned if she didn't at least attempt to get out of here.
The salarian's head spun back to her and once he realized what she was doing, he rolled his eyes at her attempts and patted the stun-rod at his belt in an unspoken threat. In response, Wong sighed and stopped the wiggling, once more forced to focus on the pain in her chest. As she'd found out recently, stun rods didn't just hurt temporary, especially not when they were applied like batons. Her ribs felt like they were on fire, just like they had done when she'd broken a couple of them while playing sports in school. However since she'd done the whole feeling sorry for herself and crying-like-it-would-change-anything part already (for the last eight sleep cycles to be precise) Wong had now opted to ignore the pain and the knowledge that she was just one wrong stun rod hit away from her ribs puncturing her lungs. Instead, she chose to focus her remaining time – however long that might be – on trying to gett out of here.
As evident by her unchanged position on the Final Wave's snuff-film torture stretcher, she hadn't been very successful up to now.
.. her resolution to leave still stood, though.
She turned towards the salarian to try and read him.
Maybe she could convince him to let her go?
If he was a merc, he probably wanted money, right?
Her family had a lot of that.
.. what the hell. It was worth a shot, wasn't it?
"You know, I think you and I could come to an agreem-," she began before a metallic hissing sound signified the opening of the door.
She expected the asari to return with the stun rod, or a guard to replace the one currently watching over her. But instead of another Wave goon, the only thing entering the door was a small tube that hit the ground with a clank. She stared at it and realized that it didn't look all that different from –
- oh shit. Not again -
The realization of what had rolled into the room hit her just in time to shut her eyes and shield them from the blinding flash.
... but her ears weren't so lucky...
A painfully loud bang echoed through the room and by the time she could hear again, it was already over.
"Get her out of he-" a familiar voice instructed and even if she wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not, she let out a weak question.
"Solomon?"
25. April 2417 AD, Hagalaz, Ship of the Shadow Broker, Brig
As soon as the flashbang detonated, Morneau was through the door. Up ahead he could already see their secondary target strapped into an interrogation device and since his right side was a wall and therefore clear, that only left his left flank exposed to possible foes.
While he'd normally trust the second man through the door to take care of whoever might be hiding there, Morneau's subconscious took offense at the state he'd found the hostage in and demanded that if someone was still in the room, he'd be the one to take care of them. Hence, before Prangley was even through the door to secure the remaining corner, Morneau had spun around and found a disoriented salarian, who would probably spend his last seconds regretting that he'd not worn a helmet to work today.
While someone else might have vented their desires for vengeance in a more brutal manner, the only sign of Morneau's second-long loss of impulse control was the incredibly quick fashion in which he put ten shots into the salarians torso before standing next to the body and planting another three in his head for good measure. He kicked away the gun from the dead salarian and then pointed at Emily Wong, the secondary target. "Get her out of that thing and bring her back to the rest of your unit," he ordered quickly before glancing at the map on his HUD and ignoring the weak 'Solomon' that the woman had thrown into his direction.
Evacuating the hostage was as good of a reason as any to get the squad detached from himself. While they had no doubt done a splendid job up to now – he definitely wouldn't have survived the yahg if it weren't for them - what came next would be much easier if he didn't have to worry about having their blood on his hands by dragging them into the frying pan alongside him.
"Furaha, the hostage's secured and on her way to you alongside Prangley's squad. I'm going for the Broker. See if you can send someone to back me up."
Morneau watched as the BAR troopers freed the Broker's captive. He could think of a dozen things to say to the woman right now, starting with an apology for what he'd put her through and ending on a much needed 'it was strictly professional'-statement to get himself some closure. But before ever coming close to saying something like this, his training overwrote all of those painfully human emotions and the currently much larger part of his identity – Callsign Magic – made a sound point: With the secondary target safe and sound, Morneau's moral debt was paid. The last loose end of Gunn's story was tied up and now it was time to finish what he'd really come here for: Stopping the Broker. Nothing else mattered.
Without doing as much as asking about the state of the hostage or worrying about what questions she might have, Magic was out of the door and hurrying down the rest of the brig corridor. This way should bring him straight to the bridge and the Broker. As he passed cells, he realized that there were definitely more prisoners here. He could see the locked cells in the corner of his eyes. But they weren't his mission and someone else was trailing right behind anyways. Therefor he could safely ignore them without as much as the hint of guilt. He checked his map again to confirm that he was still moving parallel towards Furaha's assault – which would ensure that he'd continue to not run into any larger Final Wave units – and then paused as he heard footsteps on the metal behind him.
Before he even turned around, he knew exactly who was following him.
Prangley's squad.
They were doing exactly what Furaha had warned him of: following his example and putting their lives in danger because of it.
"What do you think you're doing?" Morneau asked after turning around. "You're supposed to hand of the hostage."
"We did, Sir," Prangley responded. "One of the squads the captain sent after us took her off our hands right by the corner," he pointed behind him towards the brig room they'd liberated her from. As a glance to his HUD confirmed, a whole bunch of friendlies had really caught up to them. "Now we're here to do what you told us to do earlier. We'll finish the mission," the corporal finished.
"Hussein didn't die just so we can hang back now," Diego added. "We're seeing this through."
Rodriguez and the last remaining member of the squad, Jorgensen, nodded their approval.
Morneau mustered the young BAR troopers.
He really didn't want their blood on his hands. It was why he'd used the convenient chance to send them away after already losing one of them.
By all means, he should sent them back and do this by himself. That way, the list wouldn't grow. At least not in his presence.
… but at the same time, it also wasn't his place to take the chance to avenge their buddy away from them or suddenly decide that they were done doing their job for today. If anyone could make that call it was Captain Furaha, not him.
Besides, just like he had said, he did need back-up.
He raised his finger towards Prangley and repeated the promise he'd given to his commanding officer, if only to be able to tell himself that saying it out loud would somehow set him free of any responsibility regarding their possible deaths.
"If you see me doing something stupidly dangerous, don't repeat it," he warned, to which Prangley nodded.
"Roger that, Sir. Only you're allowed to do stupidly suicidal shit," the corporal retorted stoically. "Lead the way, Sir."
He took another look at the overly formal corporal.
Was this how Redford had felt when they had started training?
If so, he perfectly understood now.
All that 'Sir'-ing got pretty annoying pretty quickly.
"And for the record, I never went to officer's school; I only get paid like I did. Drop the Sir."
"Roger."
They shared a nod and then Morneau pointed towards the door.
"Okay. Stack up for the breach," he instructed. According to his map, this segment should lead to what was essentially a storage room where the personal belongings of the people held in the brig were being kept. But since the vehicle bay had turned out to be a server farm and the low-caste barracks had contained biotic yahg assassins, he knew better than to expect the room to actually serve its purpose. Just like they'd done before, the unit and Morneau cleared the room – which was empty of any hostiles – and just like before, they found something unexpected.
This time around it was rows of terminals showcasing three letter abbreviations.
PGI.
"This is what you came here for, isn't it?" a deep voice alterd with a familiar voice synthesizer declared. It had a snarling undertone not unlike the yahg they had just killed declared. "Project Group Insight," it continued before the screens were filled with the stylized depiction of a voice line. The Shadow Broker's favorite way to portray himself. "Fascinating individuals, I assure you."
"Is that who I think it is?" Jorgensen muttered before getting elbowed by Prangley.
"But not as fascinating as you, Mister Solomon Gunn," the yahg, or rather the Shadow Broker, went on while Morneau scanned the screens for any hints or traps. Almost immediately, he came to the conclusion that this was a distraction. Still, he'd listen in on it for a few seconds, if only to not immediately show his hand.
"It is rare for me to not know who I am up against. I applaud your masters for hiding your true identity as well as they did. And I applaud you for finding my lair. It is even more rare for me to be caught unprepared. Such a feet deserves recognition, which I would be willing to offer in the ways of the information you so desire. Starting with Project Group Insight," instead of engaging the yahg, Morneau neutrally looked at the screen and noticed the small blinking light at its top. A camera recording them. "Unless of course, you would much rather fumble in the dark," he went on, probably expecting Morneau to answer.
But the specialist did no such thing. Instead of engaging in the Broker's attempts of conversation, he simply pushed the off-button on the side of the terminal and walked towards the next door, much to the bewilderment of the squad.
"What's he doing?" Rodriguez wondered, presumably forgetting that Morneau was still tapped into their squad intercom.
"Not falling for the Broker's stupid tricks," Morneau responded quickly. "He's stalling to buy himself some more time to try and escape. I'll be damned if I let him. Stack up, it's not much further to the bridge," the specialist explained before waiting for the squad to get into cover so he could open the next door. If the Broker was resorting to something as basic as trying to lull him into a conversation, that either meant that he was very desperate or already out of danger and only further taunting him.
Either way, they would only find out once they reached the bridge.
He rolled his shoulders and felt something that had been out of place since he'd been smacked around by the other yahg pop back in place. Then he looked towards Rodriguez, who was once mor standing in front of the improved security lock.
"Ready whenever you are."
Time to bag a Broker.
Codex: Yahg
The yahg, most known for their involvement in the CSS N'vas Thelo Incident of 2383 AD / 2125 CE, which led to humanity's First Contact event with the Citadel, are a species of anthropomorphic reptiles native to the quarantined world of Parnack.
Standing anywhere between three and four meters and weighing in at an average of five hundred fifty (male) to six hundred and thirty kilograms (female), the yahg's size and brute strength are second only to the elcor and unmatched even by the largest krogan specimens.
While most of their biology can be explained as a natural adaptation to a predation-lifestyle with a high-risk, high-reward hunting strategy and a diet consisting mostly of other predators, evolutionary science has up-to-now failed to explain their naturally thick and armor-like skin (which has been proven to contain traces of metal not at all unlike turian skin) and disproportionately high muscle mass (which should not have been reached naturally on a world with 1.1g.)
Although the inherently hostile nature of the yahg and the lack of expeditions to Parnack in wake of the Battle of Parnack has made it hard to determine the evolutionary and social heritage of the yahg, it is believed that they evolved as pack-hunting apex predators native to the jungles of their predominantly tropical homeworld.
Furthermore, information presented by the Council Survey Corps points to them first having started to form organized, neolithic communities over eighteen thousand years ago. (Note: This information was procured from a yahg-made First Contact Package retrieved aboard the destroyed N'vas Thelo by HSA forces. Due to the heavy damage to the data storage system, it is technically possible that 'eighteen' thousand could also mean 'eight' or 'eighty'. Notes retrieved from the personal belongings of the deceased Ambassador T'Laá do however point to it being 'eighteen'.)
While this would make the yahg older than most currently space-faring societies and suggests a slower-than-average development pace on their part - or a falt-out lie meant to deceive the Council surveyors - it should be noted that evidence gathered from Parnack's surface in the days leading up to the N'vas Thelo Incident suggests that the extremely warlike nature of the yahg has led to several 'dark ages' in which their collective development regressed several centuries. The continued surveilllance of radio-waves leaving Parnack further solidifies this thesis.
At this point, it should be noted that despite the presence of an unblocked mass relay, no prothean ruins were uncovered in the yahg's home system.
Similarly, no signs of activities from other spacefaring civilizations have been found that would explain why the relay in the yahg's home system was not frozen or otherwise obstructed prior to its activation.
The only other home system to share this trait of an unobstructed relay are the asari.
With a population estimated to number at only 3.6 billion spread out over at least 167 nation-like unions (some of which are engaged in open hostilities with each other) and no signs of an imminent planetary unification, the collective threat represented by the yahg to the security of Council Space has been determined as 'very-low' to 'non-existant'.
This threat assessment has led to several sentient-life-form activists questioning why the Council continues to turn a blind eye to the system-wide lockdown enforced by HSA Forces and even subsidies it as a measure in the interest of galactic security.
In line with this criticism, claims of secret HSA raids to the surface of Parnack and targeted orbital strikes meant to freeze the development of the yahg and keep them from ever reaching the status of a spacefaring civilization have also been brought to light.
In response, several investigations were launched.
While human forces have in fact engaged the surface of Parnack, both the Council's official investigation and other independent sources have found no sign of any human-provoked military action. In response to being vindicated from these claims the Human Systems Alliance Ministry of Alien Relations offered the following official statement in 2401 AD:
'Contrary to these baseless claims, the Human Systems Alliance has no intentions of conquering Parnack and will never again send ground forces to surface of Parnack unless another rescue operation becomes necessary. Additionally, the HSA has never taken any aggressive military action against surface-targets, let alone attacked civilian scientific installations in these so-called 'no-survivor-missions'. The only times HSA forces have engaged Parnack's surface were events of self-defense aimed at military installations attempting to target the ships enforcing the quarantine via missile-based weaponry. Any collateral damage caused by these incidents is the sole responsibility of the associated national unions. We refuse to be blamed for defending ourselves from yahg aggression.'
Further evidence pointing towards the existence and deployment of a secretive HSA black-op division, which among other things was supposedly active on Parnack's surface and in the wake of the invasion of Eden Prime, has been wholly dismissed by the Arcturus government.
'The HSA never has and never will maintain a paramilitary black-op division with the aim of full-deniability.'
A/N: And here we are.
Into the Shadow. Part One of the two-parter conclusion of the Shadow Broker arc!
Originally, I played with the idea of making this ONE chapter... but when I realised that we were already 11k words in without the Broker even making a facial apperance, I decided against it. With Morneau's last big chapter (chapter 100) already clocking in at a maddening 16k words, I decided that this time I'd split it up.
As you can tell, I opted to do something different from canon.
And I just couldn't help myself .. I had to bring back the yahg... they launched this story to begin with, after a hundred chapters of being int he back ground, I figured they'd get another chance to get their arrogant asses kicked. If you read those scenes and felt like they're portrayed like Brutes from halo... yup.
You got me.
I will flat-out admit that this time around, I straight up made the yahgs brutes because we know so little about them from canon, that they might as well just behave like the Jiralhanae (and die as hard as they did back in halo 2... god fucking damnit... I just remembered that cursed high charity level)
Either way!
Like I said, this is only part ONE of the two parter.
I don't know when Part Two will be up, partially because I don't THINK all of part two is going to be the conclusion of the Shadow Broker mission (we are basically two-thirds through the narrative, but like I said, if I had written all of it in one chapter, we would have gotten another behemoth)
Until that happens, i do suggest you drop a review. Its always nice to hear what you think, especially now that we're slowly but steadily getting to the point where the plotlines are merging and ME3 is looming on the horizon. Feedback is appreciated :p
For the record, we're at 791 reviews (mostly because one madlad actually read all of SV 103 chapters in mostly one go and dropped a review every now and then) , 1202 favorites (another landmark, yay) and 1299 follows (nearly had two landmarks, but I didn't want to drag the update out just so I can write "we cracked 1300!" :)
See you around next time.