Vasir hit the ground first and rolled, which was wise, as the beam dumped the other two asari almost on top of her. The trip had been rough, like riding a roller coaster. Lysana seemed to think so too, for as soon as the Spectre could get to her knees, she vomited violently.
Vasir winced at the spattering sound, tightening her stomach muscles to resist the contagious impulse.
"That is not how I would prefer to travel," Talassa observed, sounding shaken, but far from nauseous.
"I hate roller coasters," Lysana moaned, shivering.
"Come on, we have to—"
Their radios all coughed. "Assets, please identify."
"Pendulum," Vasir announced.
"Countersign: gearwheel. Welcome to the Citadel, Stiletto Two."
"You're a geth, aren't you?" Lysana asked, sounding surprised.
"My name is Horatio. I collaborate with Ambassador Tali'Zorah vas Normandy."
That explained how the asset had survived the venting of the Citadel: geth didn't need to breathe, and probably had mag-boots built into their feet. Venting the station would only be an inconvenience for a geth.
"What's the status?" Vasir asked.
"The Reapers have one asset available, although I am unsure of its capacity for action. It is located in the Citadel Archive. I am currently making use of C-Sec's network and authorities to hold the Presidium. Unless the Reapers succeed in removing me from the system, they will be unable to send reinforcements."
"Wait, you downloaded yourself into the Citadel's computers?" Talassa asked, sounding startled.
"Geth exist primarily as software, Asset. It is a simple thing."
"We were planning to take and hold the Citadel controls in the Council Tower," Vasir announced.
"Would the Archive controls be able to override those of the Council Tower?"
"Unlikely. Your organic probably only used the Archive controls because the Archive is on an independent environmental system. It was the only way for it to be on the Presidium and not get vented with everything else," Vasir answered casually. She knew the Archive fairly well, though sometimes, usually on nights when the nightmares were bad, she wished she didn't. There was a lot of material in there that would upset a lot of people if it was found. That was one reason it was usually only Spectres who ended up in there: supposedly, their mandate for protecting galactic peace made them not want to employ what they knew to the purpose of starting a war. Or several.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, I'm certain," Vasir answered firmly.
"In that case, please proceed. I have isolated your location and have plotted a direct course."
"What if it's not really our asset?" Talassa asked quietly.
Vasir sighed. "We already know where we're going and we know what we need to do. So far, its intel matches what it should." She didn't want to think about this maybe being a Reaper trick…although if she thought about it, it didn't sound like the usual Reaper tricks she'd heard about. Their subtlety depended on Indoctrination and Indoctrinated assets.
"It's still a thinking machine," Talassa pointed out.
Yes, and supposedly they were on the allied galaxy's side now. Vasir didn't want to get into debates about the geth's real loyalties, or whether the Reapers could more easily corrupt them than organics. They needed to get to the Council Tower and open the Ward arms.
"You don't think this Reaper asset could have, I don't know, disabled the Tower controls?" Lysana asked after about fifty feet.
"If he did, does it matter?" Vasir asked. "We'll just head down into the Archive, kick its ass, and open the Ward arms from there. Or maybe another team will make it in and they'll head for the Archive…although I don't like the idea of anyone without clearance poking around in there."
"Seriously?" Lysana scoffed. "You're worried about clearances?"
"I'm worried about arguments that might start once the dust settles. There's a reason the Archive is restricted," Vasir returned grimly.
"Then whatever you do, don't tell anyone not to go poking around, don't tell them how sensitive stuff is in there, don't say anything to provoke curiosity. Especially if the next team is human," Lysana advised. "While they're goal-oriented, they don't care about peripheral issues, but once they start asking why…"
"Noted," Vasir returned.
The Citadel now resembled a slaughterhouse. Throughout the sublevel upon which they'd landed, Keepers single-mindedly sorted through corpses by species. Some were clearly brought in from other parts of the Presidium—the ones who didn't find themselves ejected into hard vacuum when the station was vented—while others were apparently dumped by the Reapers on the ground, propelled up here by the beam.
That beam felt like it was designed to handle freight.
Harder still to ignore were the pitiful sounds that indicated some of these bodies were still alive.
Talassa suddenly stopped, a battered human with wild eyes hanging off one of her arms, begging her not to leave him. Them. The spectacle was pitiful; Vasir had tried hard not to look, to be gentle when shaking off grasping hands. "I can't…the Code…it doesn't allow me to ignore them." She sounded conflicted, as if that was a new state of affairs for her.
The Spectres exchanged looks. Arguing the Code with a Justicar was like arguing the color of a wall: you could argue yourself into exhaustion but the color of the wall wouldn't change. It was another reason Vasir hadn't liked the idea of Justicars on the Stiletto team: too much ideology.
"Then stay," Lysana said simply.
Talassa nodded, then turned to reassure the man.
"Be careful, Justicar. You never know which ones are a trap," Vasir pointed out.
Talassa regarded her mildly. "I'll be careful. Meanwhile, may the goddess watch over you."
May she watch over them all, Vasir thought as she turned and continued along her way, Lysana crowding at her shoulder. She wondered if this was why the Reapers hadn't simple killed all their prisoners before sending them up: so any attempt at infiltration would be slowed down by pity.