This chapter is dedicated to co-writer and good friend, F13D. We have collaborated on the work: Dawn of Titans. And thrown enough ideas back and forth to keep a team of developers active. Get well soon!
And now, to your regularly scheduled program.
Feros is an enigma, wrapped inside a mystery, surrounded by the unknown. Why is it there, what happened to its people, and how come no one ever really looked into it? My own files indicate references to the place are ... muted. Suppressed in some ways, ostensibly the cause of some Prothean data-mining program that's been crawling through the galaxy for millenia.
Others say it's just how things are. Don't read into things that don't exist.
Me? I say a lot of unknown things live in the uncharted parts of the galaxy. Species with which we've never made official contact, planets that shouldn't exist; heck, even my home station shouldn't really exist where I put it. I can look out my window and see ... well ... a lot of pretty fog. It's really gorgeous, multi-colored and all. A simple star shouldn't exist here; yet it does. Life does not behave in such a way, yet it has.
Shepard's visit detonated much of that secrecy and turned it into a mess of variables so chaotic even a squad of asari Matriarch investors couldn't keep it under wraps. But ... that's getting ahead of the story.
Dr. Arnold Pavenmeyer
~Project Ragnarök Files
SSV Sigurd
Admiral Hackett nodded his approval at the display. Feros lay before his feet, open and unthreatened by geth forces. It had cost him two cruisers, eight frigates and a dozen fighters, but it was finally free. Considering the potential losses, it had been relatively cheap.
Relatively.
"Sir!" An officer suddenly jerked up from his station. "The Shen-yang is reporting heavy damage sir, structural integrity critical and failing!"
What? Hackett sorted through recent combat damage, pulling up what he knew; the Sheng-yang was a missile cruiser, dedicated to supporting the Sigurd. Its position had been sheltered by the Martel-class battleship's bulk, nothing major had hit it throughout the entire engagement. "Report."
The officer shrugged helplessly, "No details available, they just started broadcasting an SOS, and … sir!"
He followed the officer's gaze to the display at the center of the bridge. Smaller ships couldn't afford the room, but his display held a prominent position at the side of the center. Rank upon rank of computer panels filled the lower sections, the better to pinpoint data spikes by action alone. Some disapproved of the ship design having the officers literally capable of walking above enlisted head height, but the entire galaxy had problems with re-routing bureaucracy. That's how it had been designed for nearly half a century, and that's how it would likely be for another. But the display to one side showed something far more discomforting than seating arrangements.
The outline of the system, once focused on the Sigurd and Feros proper, now showed a sparkling debris field where the Shen-yang had once been. Seconds later, a destroyer at the far end of the formation erupted in gouts of flaming debris.
Hackett noted the position of both destroyed ships, mind whirring. "Scanners, get me a map of the system. The entire system dammit!"
As he spoke, another bright flash sparkled on his board, faint echoes of the real explosions occurring less than an astronomical unit from his own ship. "Fifth Fleet, take evasive maneuvers! Relative up, orient on the flagship. Epsilon-Tau, and do it yesterday!"
The scanner pinged another report, coming up negative. He mentally shredded its contents; computers could only see what was painfully obvious. It took intelligence to perceive the invisible. "Scanners, there's a geth ship somewhere near here. If they're sending suicide attacks, they have to have a spotter somewhere. Get me that spotter!"
The bridge froze or a moment. The phrase, suicide attack held powerful memories; the Fifth Fleet had been deployed some years before to deter a warlord from rampaging through the colonies. She'd resorted to sending drones at FTL speeds to eliminate targets, a practice which had both earned her the death sentence, and made the action itself a crime with some of the most stringent consequences within the Alliance. Costs had been … devastatingly high.
Frantic seconds passed by, more shields and ships converted into debris fields. Then one of the officers shouted in triumph. "Sir, I have it! Bearing mark six starboard three zero one!"
Hackett made a guttural noise of satisfaction. "All ships, anyone in range, take it out. Repeat: all ships fire as you bear."
Two destroyers rotated in place, bringing their main guns in line. In the vacuum of space, no sound was heard, but the Sigurd's sensors tracked a pair of shells crossing the void. The destruction of the geth ship was equally silent, and nearly featureless. Alliance vessels held safeguards, eliminating the Hawking Engines from repeating a mistake that had happened in the early colonization efforts. Hackett himself had been in the battle of Kar'Shan, where an entire singularity core had been released in space around the planet. There were still entire swathes rendered uninhabitable from the reprisal strikes Hegemony officials had used to control the in-fighting.
"Keep sweeping the area," Hackett brushed his gaze over the crew pit. "As soon as you see another one, flag it as high priority."
To himself, the scoreboard looked significantly worse. Almost half of his cruisers destroyed, a third of his cruisers. Over ten thousand lives, gone in thirty minutes. Those quarians better start making progress. If Saren gets enough geth on his side, he won't need any super-ships.
Zhu's Hope was a small colony, smaller than Mindoir had been at the time of the Raid. Its construction was incredibly different as well, based on archaeology and funding from external sources. While Mindoir had been established in a location specifically chosen for access to mineral and agricultural wealth, Zhu's Hope relied on proximity to data-rich caches and external support. One was a self-sufficient population, bent on taming a new world, the other dove into the dangerous realm of political intellectualism.
Shepard took stock of the camp, Liara at his side keeping an eye out for him. The artillery power armors stood sentinel overhead, barely visible through the collapsing superstructure. Not that the walls looked like they were going to fall anytime soon; despite their age, the gray structures looked as immovable as time itself. Perhaps a remnant of superior engineering? Or was the planet's legendary tectonic activity perhaps less overt than believed?
A warning nudge alerted him to the approach of one of the colonists. "Hello, sir. Fai Dan wants to speak with you right away."
"Very well," Shepard noted the colonist's body language; hands were clenching and unclenching. Fight or flight reflex? Nervousness at talking to a marine? "Are you to guide me?"
"Nossir. I have to keep going. Geth took out a power relay, and I need to replace it." The hands clenched again.
Nervous about repairs? Ignoring that aspect, Shepard merely nodded. Explanations could wait.
The colony itself appeared to be … disheveled. Gray stone absorbed what sunlight the heavy atmosphere permitted entrance, dulling the remaining light. Dusty off-white shelters, temporary by the appearance, loomed over the entire floor. Dust, centuries of the stuff, lay in unused corners, lying in sullen piles. Streaks along the walls near windows indicated water damage, or at least a minor chemical reaction between whatever metal the erstwhile Protheans had used. Yet the ceiling reared its proud visage to great heights, and obvious attempts at repairing sections demonstrated a vibrant desire to survive.
He passed between two guards. They looked at him in terror, fear leaving their eyes only to suddenly return, shuddering as it did. That disturbed him.
"Excuse me," he tapped a woman's shoulder. She jumped nearly two feet, whirling in a combat position he didn't recognize. That disturbed him almost as much as the look of fear on the other colonists faces. While no asari, Shepard had studied combat for over half of his life. To not even recognize the basic form of such an obvious style? But that wasn't getting him anywhere; he flicked his eyes down to the name tag on her grimy uniform. "Your pardon, Miss Doyle. Could you tell me where Fai Dan is?"
The woman brushed dirty blonde hair out he her eyes, relaxing. "Fai Dan's near the heart of the colony. Try the Borealis, that's the freighter near the center. We've been using its shields to hold out since … since the geth came."
"Understood. Thank you." Curiosity made him hesitate, "If I may ask, why are you here?"
She groaned. "These pipes aren't working. They ship water to the colony through the aquifers the Protheans left behind, but I think the geth switched off the stations deeper in the tower. Without water, we're overworking the recyclers, and Lord only knows how long they'll stay working."
Shepard frowned. "No, I mean, why are you working on water here," he gestured at their exposed position, "When there have to be other places. You could even work on making more recyclers; ancient technology is notoriously unreliable you know."
The woman flinched. "It's … complicated. The geth aren't attacking now, and it feels right to be here. Helps to focus on something other than the geth or people I can't help, you know? It hurts to not focus. There's so much opportunity for growth here, if we can make it. You should talk to Fai Dan, he can explain it better."
"Of course …" Shepard backed up slowly, keeping his expression neutral. "I'll be on my way then. Best of luck, Miss Doyle."
The woman ignored him, returning to stare at the controls with an almost fanatical zeal. He'd only seen that level of focus on new recruits, near the end of Hell Week, or the criminally insane. Not that there was a great deal of difference at times.
Pretending to ignore the obsessive woman, he tripped over a minor crack in the ground, catching himself just in time. Describing the unlikely origins of that particular section of artificial geology served to reduce the embarrassment. Ten years and you still haven't managed to get that under control. What will it take, a bloody miracle?
"Shepard," Liara's voice drew him out of self-criticism, "do you truly have the Prothean Beacon within your mind?"
Shepard looked up, gauging the distance until they reached the large freighter. Unfortunately, although miniature barricades blocked a good portion of the ground, a clear path had been made … in a fairly amateurish attempt. Directing the flow of battle served admirably, but failed to work in most combat situations. Using the corrugated siding from modular buildings made them oddly uniform; an ingenious move for logistics, but left far too much time overall for his walk. "Yes, Doctor. I have it … downloaded, for lack of a better term. It's indistinct, fuzzy, but clear enough to get the message across."
She stopped him, trying to look him in the eye. He avoided it, watching their surroundings; it wasn't as if paranoia hadn't kept him alive for the past decade. "When we return to the Normandy, we must discuss this in greater depth. Agreed?"
Sighing, Shepard began walking once more, until she tugged him to a stop once more. "Shepard, one more question, if I may?"
Rejoicing at the habitat's proximity, Shepard pushed past her attempt. "Liara, trust me, we need to get through this situation as best as possible. Then we shall have time to talk of strategies." This time he did stop, searching the nearby rubble with his eyes as if the secrets to the past few days could be found in their depths. "When we return to the Normandy, I think I'll have enough evidence to wrap up loose ends that have been irritating me for over a decade now." He changed his tone, activating his earpiece. "Alpha squad, report."
A hoarse voice returned. "Sigurd here, sir. No casualties, perimeter secured. Gotta say though, this place feels creepy."
Shepard raised an eyebrow. Lieutenant Sigurd was one of the most prosaic individuals he'd ever met. "Clarify."
"I don't know sir, just … like someone's walking over my grave."
"Ah. Stay frosty then, don't know what your instincts are telling you, but it would be wise to listen." He changed frequency, "Joker, are you there?"
"Ready and waitin' Shepard. What's up?" Joker's irreverent tone was welcome in the dingy gloom of the prothean ruins.
"I'm sending Charlie and half of Delta squad back to you. Williams is in charge of ground if I go out of communication. Is Pressley there?"
There was a pause, then the older Navigator's voice came in strong. "I am here Commander. Orders?"
Shepard stopped in front of a middle-aged man that had to be Fai-Dan next to a woman, a little younger than himself but wearing an expression that would curdle milk. "Keep the Normandy in standby. Keep a weather eye out in case the Geth get any funny ideas. Chief Williams is in charge of the ground team, if I lose contact. If the geth come back in major numbers, get out of here and come back with the cavalry when you can."
"Aye sir," The older man was experienced enough to keep things professional. A boon, given the times he'd experienced civilian interaction. "Understood."
"Shepard out." He clicked off the device and gave the couple a nod. "Commander Shepard, of the Alliance. What's the situation?"
The man looked about to speak, but his companion beat him to it. "It's about bloody time," she growled. "What took you so long? We've lost good people here!" She ignored her companion's longsuffering sigh. "How many days did you lollygag on your way to get here? A week? A month?"
Shepard growled, narrowing his eyes. "I'll try this again. I am Commander Shepard, of the Normandy. I have been across the galaxy three times in the past week, putting out fires no man should have to even smell, let alone extinguish. When I got here, I had to send my team into the center of a geth armada for the love of apple butter, and then take apart what seems to have been an organized geth company – which by the way almost threw me off this building." He took a breath, not needing to simulate the emotion; despite his efforts, anger rested close to the surface. But keeping his voice calm tended to unnerve people more than hormone-fueled shouting. Like they couldn't understand the concept of self-control. "So then, for the last time: what is the situation?"
The man held a hand against the woman's shoulder, quelling her next response. "I am Fai Dan, what I suppose you could call the leader of Zhu's Hope. At least, the port division. This is my security consultant, Arcelia Martinez. You have my thanks for helping us in our hour of need. Though I am wondering as well, what brings you here?"
"Two reasons," Shepard held himself down to a more respectful tone. The older man was obviously in a great deal of stress, so much so that he could pick up a slight tremble in the man's movements. "I received a report that the colony was off the network; no one has heard Feros in two weeks. Since the geth have been spotted in other areas, I was asked to take a look. The Fifth Fleet is above us right now, keeping an eye on what's left of the geth fleet."
"The geth are gone?" Fai Dan relaxed, almost falling over. Only Martinez's reflexes kept him from collapsing. "Thank heavens. But there are still many below; they are a thorn in our side."
Something happened there, Shepard noted the subtle tensing in Martinez's arm. Probably nerves.
"If you could see your way clear, to go through in the tunnels, we would be grateful." The older man coughed, His words were oddly emphasized as well, likely the result of some local vernacular. "Have I mentioned the freighter, Thor's Eden is late? It was supposed to bring supplies two months ago. It was supposed to bring supplies; power, food. We are not yet self-sufficient. Could you help?"
Shepard nodded slowly, the man was obviously beginning to lose it. "I'll look into it …" he said slowly, "What do you need?"
Martinez interjected, voice harsh and commanding. "That can be done later, right now we have to deal with the geth. We are a civilian colony, not accustomed to combat. The sooner you get rid of those things the better it will be for everyone!"
Blinking, Shepard stepped back from the woman's unexpectedly passionate outburst. What she'd … requested was as close to an order as one could get. Rather significant, given her rank. "Of course, they are why I'm here after all. What can you tell me of the geth placements, are they forming a base at any point?"
The elderly male shook off Martinez's hand, which had somehow latched onto his upper arm again. The manner of his clenching hands indicated mild pain, possibly from the arthritic – inducing nature of the planet. If the man hadn't accepted gene mods for resisting the condition, he likely would be placing in an order for them soon. "You would need to check the tunnels, accessible from the elevator over there. If you have any Caucasian crewmembers, I would advise caution. Some of them abhor arians."
Shepard shook his head; the man exhibited classic signs of concussion. On top of stress, fear of his life and whatever diet he'd been eating, it was no wonder. Now that he thought about it, there had been far more colonists just resting.
It must have been a siege, he realized. One of the more terrifying types of warfare; constant attacks, minimal respite, and with no news? Good Lord. It is a mercy we came when we did.
"I'll send a squad to help out with the water. Keep your people back, my boys are some of the best in the business." Over his earpiece, he could hear Ashley already coordinating a volunteer mission. He smiled. "My Second is coordinating a response team. She's good. Now, what of the geth, where are they?"
This time Fai Dan did collapse, falling to one knee before Martinez seized his shoulder. "The … ExoGeni … building might … have what you need. You want to stop the geth, right? The geth!" he regained control, breathing heavily as if in a race. "That is where you must go." The old man tilted back, looking up at him, face unreadable. "Hurry, Commander. There is not much time. Yes, the geth are not going to wait."
Liara tapped Shepard's elbow; he took the hint pulling back a few steps. It felt disconcerting, seeing a man fall to dementia before his time. "You aren't looking very good, could I convince you to come aboard the Normandy? Doctor Chakwas is the best in her field."
The man whimpered, massaging his temple with one hand. Martinez helped him to his feet. She looked over the man's shoulder, "No, Commander. He's just tired, the geth attacks have been most wearing. A good rest is all we need, then we can get back to work."
"If you're certain?"
Fai Dan waved him off, smiling as he did so. "I haven't felt this good since before … before the trouble started. I trust you, Shepard." The last was delivered with a unique twitch of his head, something Shepard could yet again not interpret. The relief felt by the older man was obvious, however, and appeared to be shared by Martinez.
A quick look around at the colonists visible from Shepard's current position looked to be identical expressions, from what he could tell. There was weariness, certainly, and more than a healthy indication of fear. Those sitting wrapped limbs around each other, or nearby objects, clutching to anything that offered support. A couple as old as his parents if they were still alive, huddled just within eyesight, wrapped around each other with enough force to rival a python. Yet, they did not look reassured by the contact. Rather, their muscles remained taught, jaws clenched, and the woman was crying softly as if in pain.
Civilian reactions in any given conflict were, by definition, conflicting. Sighing, he made a note to request therapists in the next response team to Feros.
"Ashley," he switched modes, wishing he'd brought his helmet for more privacy. But who could have expected paranoid colonists? Besides yourself, you mean, Mister 'Mindoir Man'? Wincing, he made a note for the next shift. "Do you have a duty roster for relief efforts?"
Blank silence filled the channel, a thoughtful silence instead of a dead one on a blocked channel. "We have enough armed and ready. And the marines are itching to stretch their legs, show the squids a thing or two. All looking quiet from here."
Possible. Humans were adapted to feel calm at the sight of lush green fields, or forests. Or at most plant life, if he recalled the old texts correctly. He needed answers. "Thanks Ash, I'm headed for the ExoGeni headquarters, clean out the geth there and pick up whatever data I can on Saren. Keep an eye out, get a few more lads up there if you need to."
"Aye sir," one of the Epimetheus mechanical armor suits pivoted in his direction, causing all of the massive armor sets to rotate. All raised a weapons-arm, mimicking a wave. "Good luck."
Shepard let his gaze drift, taking in the entirety of the colonial port. The defeated attitude was there, present on every set of visible shoulders. Despite the vanquished geth, the Alliance fleet in orbit, and the presence of the best human soldiers in the galaxy. Or near best, close enough. Civilians. Never understand them.
Relinquishing the Mako from the Normandy took minimal time. Mapping a route to ExoGeni, even less. Selecting whom to take and whom to leave behind, however, had been tiring. Everyone wanted to go, which would leave the colony unprotected, should the geth approach once more. But the trip as just an exploratory passage, not a full-fledged invasion. Whatever the geth wanted, it probably wasn't the data in ExoGeni servers; company policy ensured crucial data was either destroyed under attack, or sent out electronically or through physical data packets to secure locations.
Unless the geth just wanted the office supplies? Or were interning there for Saren? Unlikely.
Most of the squad, therefore, was left behind. Part of Charlie squad rode in a second Mako behind his own, forming one of the smallest convoys possible.
The Mako he rode lurched in place, shifting onto another extension. Constructing multi-kilometer-high towers evidently forced the Protheans to create roads miles above the ground. Ancient wires still poked out of the edges, once connected to systems shredded by the ravages of the elements long ago. Their tell-tale appearance however, gave Shepard a funny feeling. The shininess of the metal, plus its presence still on the surface of ancient hardware meant a superconductor at the least; anything less would have rusted within centuries. Human constructs, made with concrete developed in the last century – needed replacement within decades. Unless using the 'Roman' formula, a century was the most anyone could expect. But why hadn't ExoGeni started stripping the superconductors from the pathways?
The Mako rocked once more, sending him once more into the side of the vehicle. Small numbers of geth had opened fire periodically, testing the vehicle's defenses. Fortunately, with Tali now inside, it was as if annoying insects were draining the shield. Within seconds, Wrex's position in the turret mowed down the offending unit, and the entire group was treated to the krogan version of smug laughter.
Truthfully, he did sound gleeful. Like a happy rock. A happy rock, crushing everything around itself into powder.
Shepard shook his head, now safely encased within the confines of a helmet. The muted sound was driving him crazy, but at least he could speak without being overheard. Speaking of which, "Joker. You there?"
Chewing sounds emanated from the earpieces; was the sound quality that much better? Or had he caught out the indefatigable pilot for once? A distinct gulping hit his ears. "I'm here Commander. Sorry, lunch break."
"At the cockpit?"
"I'm pulling an extra shift for Addison. She has a checkup that kept being delayed. Something Chakwas wanted me to remind you about?"
Grumbling, Shepard changed the subject. "It looks like we're going to be moving along quickly here. Can you run a scan of the port? Look for explosives, or chatter on odd frequencies. Anything suspicious." He had to pause as another artillery strike rocked the Mako. "Get some of Delta squad in on it as well. They should have a couple people off duty right now."
More chewing sounds, abruptly halted with a strained gulp. "Um, yeah. Gotcha Shepard. By the by, thanks for ordering the deluxe stuff. This actually tastes like real meat! Not up to a real hamburger, but close. Maybe next time you could spring for a grill?"
"Put it on the requisition list," Shepard chuckled. Talking with the pilot was always amusing. "I'll push it through the quartermaster."
"You're the best! Joker out."
The cheerful sendoff was drastically undercut by an alarm. Tali jumped in her seat, clawing at her control board. "On it, overflow on the main capacitor … cutting in backups … and … got it!"
Shepard just shook his head. The quarian was one of the most technically proficient individuals he'd ever encountered. Why had she been allowed to leave the Flotilla? Someone with her talents could have commanded a salary of her own choice in the private sector; possibly demand her own post in the Fleet. But then, quarians did things a little differently than the Alliance. Holding posts on colonial worlds held more prestige than the ships … at least for now. Time would tell if the Alliance/Quarian agreements would continue. Given the current geth situation, it was more than likely, but likely just meant probable.
Something equally probable was the likelihood of a spy on his ship. Admiral Hackett had known of things not yet told, Udina had news of things that had only just happened, and the reports he'd been receiving from … Emrys … seemed to demonstrate a strange knowledge of the goings-on aboard the Normandy than he was comfortable.
And yet, the crew was getting faster. The squads were becoming better trained, and deadlier than almost any other squad he'd ever worked with. Fighting an entire company of geth was something out of history texts, a feat considered nigh-impossible for an asari company. Turians could have done it, but at cost. Quarians … definitely couldn't have done it. They'd failed time and time again for three hundred years.
"Fascinating," Liara's voice pulled him from his thoughts. Her face was pressed as close to the external screens as possible without actually touching it. "The design is older than I had thought. But it is so … intact! Almost as if they simply rose up and just … left. Why?"
Shepard glanced at the structures. "Remember what I told you, about Reapers?"
"Of course, but that does not explain why an entire planet filled with the remnants of Prothean artifacts remain. Goddess, if this planet had been discovered a century ago, it would be swarming with archaeologists. And the Alliance has only a few teams here? It is a treasure trove of potential!" Liara folded her arms over her ample chest compressed by battle armor, still watching the screen. "There was obviously conflict at some point; look at how those towers are lacking levels their neighbors contain. Bridges – they must transit platforms, but above other structures. Why? Who did this? Where did they go?"
He could see her point. "Perhaps I can set up a more qualified investigation, when there is time. I have some sway in ExoGeni, and not inconsiderable funds at my own disposal. Would you know someone who would be interested in consulting …?"
Liara's head whipped in his direction so quickly he heard the helmet thunk against the Mako's ceiling. It was eerie, the sudden stillness she was exhibiting after her animated appraisal. The genetic lineage of the asari predator links appeared very obvious in how her attention focused on him. "Do you mean it? A fully funded investigation of Feros?"
"Certainly." Shepard checked his blade, ensuring its catch remained locked. "If the Reapers are coming, if Saren is looking for something to help the Reapers, then we need to know everything we can. That means looking at every – oof!"
Liara pounced over the seat back, wrapping her arms around his neck in an awkward hug, jamming his faceplate against her chest. Just as quickly, she released him, jamming her way back into the straps loosened by her passage. "My apologies, I did not mean to … it's just that I have always dreamed about …."
"Forget it," Shepard caught Tali looking at him, her helmet tipping between the asari and himself. Her shoulders were shaking, and while he couldn't hear anything, he knew she was laughing. Blasted quarians.
"Commander, we're almost there." A cool, collected voice came from the front. Vakarian, self-proclaimed sniper, ladies man, and apparently driver without compare, had commandeered the task. Shepard didn't mind; his own driving skills were adequate, but if a better driver were present, relinquishing control meant nothing. Pride had no place on the battlefield. Something that most of his squad members knew, but not all.
Musing on the thought brought no satisfaction. Either the people under his charge would learn it, or would not. Ostensibly, they were professionals, it was obvious how well they were trained. Some were veterans, deserving of the honorific. The rest … he'd classify as 'capable young warriors,' but not quite at the elite level.
Yet.
They were responding well, however. Very well indeed.
"Commander, I'm picking up some chatter," Tali announced. "Sounds like they can see us, but I can't pick up anything on the scanners. Want us to pull over?"
Shepard spared a moment's thought, and shook his head. "Give 'em a standard contact burst, include my ID for authorization. Let them know where we're headed, and request any pertinent data. Contact Ashley and have her tell Charlie to stop by, make sure they're all right."
While her fingers flew across her omni-tool, he looked at the forward-facing screen. Ahead, he could make out the site chosen by ExoGeni for their headquarters. Unlike the port town of Zhu's Hope, this skyscraper appeared more intact. Patched repair work – obviously new by comparison – gave the monolithic structure a roguish appearance, somewhat akin to the building sensibilities of the Titan colonists by Jupiter. Living around a gas giant had to affect the mind, he was certain of it.
Further down the tower, he could see craters in the tower's superstructure, and tracks leading to lift carts above them. That meant ExoGeni had been refurbishing the tower, and continuing repairs along its length. It was a sound strategy, especially for a colony site dedicated to retrieving information – if a bit heavy handed. Refurbishing a structure allegedly fifty thousand years old presupposed that the individuals knew exactly how it was originally built. But by scanning every square inch and removing everything that looked as if it could hold data, quick progress could be made.
The booming of the Mako's main cannon brought his attention to the entrance. An Armature, ten feet tall and twice that wide scrambled to one side. Its secondary weapons opened up, sprinkling the Mako with light machine gun fire, chipping away at the shield. Before the machine's main gun could fire another of its lazily moving plasma shots, the Mako's main gun fired again. This time it made direct contact, obliterating the machine's chassis.
"Not bad," Wrex came into view as the turret seat lowered into the main body of the Mako. "It's no Tomkah, but not bad. With some more teeth, it could be better."
Getting out of the side panel, Shepard paused to consider. The Mako's main gun was a 155 millimeter mass-accelerated cannon, almost literally an artillery piece welded to a mobile platform. Its predecessor, the M29 Grizzley had carried a slightly larger gun, the 175 millimeter cannon. But the turians boasted smaller caliber weaponry, with higher muzzle velocities, something the Alliance had deemed more wasteful – due to the greater eezo requirements. If this 'Tomkah' hit harder than a Mako, and given the krogan reluctance to stuff technology in their hardware … they probably had mass drivers than mass accelerators. "Maybe I'll just get a Tomkah for the Normandy, send this one home."
Wrex glared at the wreckage of the Armature. "Better against these metal things. Can't hack a Tomkah, can't get it hung up on a railing either."
"I told you I was sorry," Garrus came out last, unfolding his lanky frame to its full height. "We got off the rail in less than thirty seconds, what are you complaining about? Besides, the only reason a Tomkah wouldn't get hung up is because it doesn't have thrusters. Or any processing power higher than a calculator."
Wrex slapped Garrus on the backplate in an affable manner, nearly slamming the turian face first into the Mako. "Ah, don't worry turian. You couldn't handle a Tomkah anyway."
Checking his weapons, Shepard took point, choosing to ignore the pair. Their … interaction had grown decidedly less caustic over time. Friendly insults were an improvement in his eyes. "Focus. We want to get in, get the data, and get out. Anything that looks interesting, download a copy. If it looks dangerous, shoot first and ask questions later. Got it?"
A rumble of assent spurred him onward. Now, if I were a machine, guarding a doorway, where would I hide?
A pair of proximity mines slipped past, attaching themselves to the doorpost. Armax Arsenal models, he could see the tell-tale brand on the munitions center. Plus, the cone-shaped display gave it away, a focal point for the sensor package. It was a good opening; Garrus was beginning to anticipate his patterns … something he wasn't sure was more comforting, or unnerving. It had taken SAIS over two years before they'd learned enough to start tailoring their honey-traps for his particular tastes. Not that it had done them much good.
Mentally, Shepard made the switch to the tactical mindset. Geth inside, know we're coming. Stacked up against the walls. How thick are they?
Liara spoke up, answering his unspoken question. "I doubt they will be coming through the walls or flooring. The structure at the port was weakened underneath, this is not."
Signaling, Shepard split his squad into a pair of fireteams, leaving Garrus to watch from a sniper position. Wrex took one side, Tali right behind him while Liara flanked his own line of sight.
In a rush, he flipped a grenade through the opening, waiting the heartbeat before it detonated, and charged inside. Instantly, he dove to one side, evading oncoming fire. Close quarters, no rifle. Liara had returned his pistol, but he didn't draw it; that was for special occasions. Instead, he'd prepared his Brawler, and returned fire. "Team two, go."
Wrex barreled through the opening, shotgun spitting destruction. Tucked just behind him, Tali's own shotgun sang an equally powerful deathsong. Her normally chipper voice sounded an enhanced burst from her vocabulator, reverberating off the walls in a challenging roar. "Come get it bosh'tets!"
It felt like chess to Shepard, predicting the geth positions as early as he could. It just made sense, pure logic in a way unaffected by emotion or hormones. If a better angle was presented – even if the footing was more precarious – the geth would send a representative to that point. Likewise, if sacrificing a unit would force his squad to move in a predictable fashion, they would make the sacrifice. Similarly, spotting an exposed unit of his squad would lure them into the open as well … but that trick was working less and less often now.
Dumb them down. Reduce processing power.
Mentally, he pinpointed five drone locations, placing them on the group HUD. "Liara, singularity here, then cover fire here. Garrus, targets of opportunity. In three – two – one."
Executing the maneuver, Shepard rose out of cover, discharging an Overload over one of the highlighted positions. Two, three, four. The Overload removed protective barriers as easily as it fried weaponry; perfect as a generic assault. What he couldn't shoot, became unprotected against his squadmates. That was the true purpose of a sniper; leveraging a small advantage into a significant one. His gift, whether behind a rifle or a pistol, or simply observing from a safe distance. Here, there was no safe distance.
Predictable. Shepard tagged an oncoming Destroyer class Geth, draining its shields with two shots. He didn't bother targeting its higher-order processors, moving on to the next target as Tali eliminated the Destroyer with a single, well placed shotgun burst. Without enough programs, they're simple. Tactics a novice in a nunnery could master. Another two shots, one snapping the stalk supporting a geth's flashlight head, the second detonating the flashlight itself before it hit the floor. Showing off again. Back to tactics, flow of battle is moving left to right, counterstrike comes in the left. Seed mines.
Garrus caught on to what he was doing, and added to the network of explosives on the far side of the room. Fast on the uptake. Smart detective, good soldier. Better include him.
His attention turned to Wrex, how the large krogan balanced his massive size with mobility. Anything on Earth with that kind of mass would move more deliberately, less gracefully. Yet the battlemaster seemed to avoid every oversized blast sent his way. Not that his movements were elegant, just efficient. Every move held a purpose, positioning his large frame to its best advantage. At one point, Shepard witnessed the krogan duel three snipers at the same time, systematically taking them down, all while evading the constant stream of fire from a Prime's oversized assault rifle.
Not just talent, he has skill. Talent makes you good, practice makes you great. Two near-misses broke his chain of thought, forcing Shepard to eliminate yet another sniper. Idiot machine. Sniper rifle inside a building … good power, poor tracking. Design flaw.
A crescendo of explosions alerted him to his impromptu minefield. Two cloaked geth had detonated the charges, sapping their shields and leaving them vulnerable to outside influences. Like guns. And tech attacks.
"That's all of 'em," Garrus approached from his position in the back. "Good work Shepard. What's next?"
Shepard scowled at the interior of the ExoGeni structure. Its pockmarked walls indicated more gunfire than just one squad's efforts, even a squad like his. Yet, there were no bodies. "Split up and search this place. Something isn't right; every colony that has corporate backing on this level is required to have an FTL messenger boat or three and enough power to set up a few GARDIAN turrets. I thought this place wasn't far enough along in development, maybe under construction, but .…" he shook his head. "Thoughts?"
Wrex stood at one side, silently poking at the Prime's metal frame. "We can use some of these for salvage. Some of the guns might come in useful. If they still work."
"I'll hack what I can," Tali added. Her omni-tool sparkled brilliant orange in the gloom. "Maybe they left their computers here?"
Shepard nodded. Good ideas. "Carry on. Stay sharp; if you see geth, call for help and retreat." He fixed a gimlet stare at the one individual likeliest to disobey. "Even you, Wrex."
The krogan grumbled, but gave him reluctant acknowledgement.
Shepard smiled at the mismatched pair. Tali barely reached the krogan's shoulder, if she stood on her … phalanges? … toes? He shook his head; a question for later. The fact remained that here stood a small, svelte quarian performing teamwork with a krogan on a human colony, with a turian acting as support. What would happen next? A human and turian?
For a moment, he was distracted by Liara proceeding to the nearest corner, examining the surface. The geth parts throughout the room failed to deter her from pulling out some tool from and begin taking measurements. Despite himself, he had to admire her dedication. Pulled into the middle of a warzone, on the far side of the galaxy, and she's still trying to learn. That's a true scientist, and a better person. Not bad looking either, if the reactions in the mess hall are any indication.
It was almost a pity that contract was in place; without it, he might have been tempted to get to know Liara better. But among the asari, image was everything. Refusal followed by an appearance of non-contractual interaction held … implications. Besides, didn't he have enough to do? He shook his head, clearing thoughts that hadn't crossed his mind in over a decade. Close to the end Shepard. Don't trip up at the finish line.
"Reporting for duty, Commander." A dry voice spoke up. Next to him, Garrus gave a relaxed salute. "Let's see how humans run a field investigation, alright?"
A smile broke out on Shepard's face, it felt … strange. Me and my big mouth. Metaphorically speaking. "You've been working with me on the Normandy for over two weeks now. Don't you have a good idea by now?"
"Desk work," Garrus lifted two talons dismissively. "This is field work. All the textbook procedures on the Citadel can't make up for poor field work. You may be an ace statistician, but can you find clues in the crime scene?"
"Crime scene? How do you mean?"
Garrus's mandibles flipped, the equivalent of clicking teeth. "Isn't that why you brought me? We're in the middle of a crime scene. Geth arrive in the middle of nowhere, Saren has his claws hooked in here up to his ponces, and we just happen to be in the main data repository of ExoGeni's colonial corporate site … alone? Unless of course, this is your idea of a date … in which case, I don't really go for the smooth-skinned look. Flattered though."
Snorting, Shepard activated his omni-tool. A few practiced motions opened his personalized forensics suite. "First off, let's look for hardware. Anything that can be used to store data."
"Good thought," Garrus agreed. His own omni-tool hummed to life. "No sense looking for DNA. Sealing the perimeter is probably useless at this point too." A faint glowing projection spread out from the turians wrist, coating the room in a grid of interlocking squares. "This must have been the foyer. Basic stuff; we need to get lower."
"Lower?" Shepard held out his own tool, scanning the smashed chunks of metal. "The network is still up. Beats me why."
A chunk of metal clunked under the turians boot. "Old geth technique; leave the local networks up, and they use 'em to increase their own processors. Didn't the Alliance have a shared education program going with the quarians? You're doing a lend-lease deal, aren't you?"
Scanning another defunct terminal, Shepard thought back slowly. "I think there was one, but I skipped it in favor of a xeno-toxicology course. Didn't like the looks of the quarian in charge."
"Ah." Garrus fell silent, studying his own scans. For a time, they worked in companionable silence. Occasionally, the sounds of Tali or Liara would echo through the chamber, exclamations of disgust or surprise.
Data scrolled across the omni-tool, noting average changes along with the differences in data. Routine information, standard information coming from the networks he could access. There were other data clusters of course, hidden behind the mainstream surface flow, but he'd get there in time. Right now, establishing a common theme was important, a control group against which to compare later results. Here in the lobby, ExoGeni would have presented its greatest lies, the most important veneer, all in the name of connecting their workforce to the company.
Later of course, he would investigate the vital lies, the ones of lesser scope, yet more important. The closer you reached to the top, the more data became available on a superficial scale. In his experience, the inconsistencies recorded by innocent underlings was more important, even if – or possibly because of – ignorance of higher policy. An honest earnings report, buried in a cluster of falsified charts, could do more to further an investigation than a terabyte of suspect reports.
"Moving up a level," he noted the change in location in the ongoing log function. "Preliminary analysis complete."
"Same," Garrus joined him as they ascended the stairway. "So far, it's clean."
"Of course. The juicy stuff is always just a narrow flight away."
The turian gave him a quizzical look. "You humans and your sayings."
"What?" Shepard looked back at him, puzzled.
"Never mind. Change of subject, why aren't there more geth here?" Garrus tapped the stock of his side-arm, set in easy reach on the upper portion of his hip. "Not that I'm complaining, but see-cue-see would be right out their duct in here. Why?"
"They only had one dropship make it this far, I think." Shepard entered the room at the top of the stairs, beginning the scan. A sub-program on his omni-tool flared to life, highlighting a terminal containing non-standard data. He made a beeline for it. "One dropship carries about four company's worth of geth units; less if they include the bigger units. I don't know how long Zhu's Hope was holding out, but between here and the port, there had to have been losses."
The turian nodded sagely. "And their comm chatter is rather … unique."
"To say the least," Shepard started downloading the suspect data. Something about a customer requisitioning units for experimentation? A guardian animal for … Hades? Nonstandard codewords. Definitely a red flag. "We may not be able to tell what geth say, but they're loud. Terrible at stealth, when you're paying attention to the radio waves."
"Hah, got something. Looks like a virus creator … hijacks omni-tools to create self-detonating mines? Very nice." Garrus's omni-tool flashed. "Got it. Perhaps I could ask the quartermaster for a copy of the software?"
"Better ask Tali," Shepard said dryly. "I let her have access to a few data files, and now it looks like she has almost everything I've seen."
"Hmm … you'd allow that?" Surprise was evident in the turian's voice.
He shrugged in response. "Why not? It's not something terribly difficult to find. Track, maybe, but very simple once you know how it works. Anything new on your end?"
Shaking his head, Garrus started moving towards the stairs once more. "Let's keep looking."
Their search lead through what could only be described as an intriguing labyrinth that was most likely unintended by the original builders. Stairs, filled with debris and half-molten building materials, gave a glimpse of what lay above. Every wall appeared stained with smoke; the sort of gritty material seen in oil-based fires. When Shepard touched the wall, the grime wiped away reluctantly, sticking to his glove like a thick paint.
"A lot of stuff burned here," he noted to no one.
A faint growl answered him from the other side of the hall. "It's clogging my nares." Garrus grumbled. The flat passages serving as his nostrils widened, wiggling slightly before narrowing again. It put Shepard in mind of a very tall rabbit. He resolved to never tell the turian of that particular thought.
"Not many bodies. Surprising."
Garrus flashed his omni-tool across the floor, scrutinizing the results. "Either they got away, or the geth hauled them off for processing. I read your reports on Eden Prime, Dragons' Teeth they called them?"
Shepard grunted an affirmative. Further along the room, a transparent blue barrier, not unlike the one he'd seen on Therum blocked a doorway. Rubble chunks large enough to carve out a small dwelling blocked other doorways, refuse from the open ceiling. That was a benefit at least; an open sky felt good, even if the closed helmet prevented him from enjoying it to the utmost. But that barrier was going to be a problem; how could he search out the rest of ExoGeni with a combat-strength energy barrier in the way? Unless, he thought, this is like Therum. Touch sensitive.
Slowly, he traced his fingers along the barrier, watching sparks fly from where the gauntlets touched. This time, nothing happened. No memory sparks, no reaction within the field itself. Nothing.
An alternate route needed to be found.
Another hour of searching revealed precisely one other way into the building, leaving him at an impasse. The passage required him to either drop into a trench where previous tenants had fashioned an improbably shaky ramp. Alternatively, he could turn around and go back to the Mako. There was still that pocket of colonists the sensors had detected on the way in …
He tapped the side of his helmet. "Tali, Liara, you there?"
A hiss of static cut in, then faded. "Tali here." Her voice was closely followed by that of the asari scientist. "T'Soni here."
"I found an opening further into the building," he flashed his light around, examining the greasy walls. "Looks like a one-way drop, but there has to be a back entrance somewhere. Meet me at my NavPoint, and follow us in. Wrex, keep an eye out."
Accepting the acknowledgement, he resettled his shoulder plates. "Ready Vakarian? Wait – "
A crackling voice cut in over the headset. "—der, do you c-c-c-c-c-copy?"
"I'm here," he tapped the response tab on his omni-tool. It kept his hands near his weapons, just in case it was an attempt at distraction. "Go ahead."
"C-c-c-cleaning s-s-s-signal –el-el-el … gotcha. Comm specialist Tanaka here. I just received confirmation that the repairs assist has been completed. Water repairs, food boost, and that geth tower. Um, there's also a report from Lieutenant Sigurd …."
Shepard waited, but the pause seemed to take a life of its own, long beyond the awkward stage. He coughed gently. "Yes?"
"Um … he says that they found a man down in the tunnels, all by himself. Unarmed."
Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, Shepard tapped the switch again. "Surprising, but not exactly earth-shattering news. There are probably dozens of colonists spread out here."
"Yessir. It's just that, um, cleaned up a little, Lieutenant Sigurd questions the man's sanity. Very emphatically, and colorfully, sir."
An interesting fact, on the surface. A madman, well and away from others, minding his own business elsewhere. Highly intelligent people – and a large selection of their antipodes – had gone insane from lesser afflictions. Callous as it seemed, there was no need to change plans for one individual suffering a version of PTSD. "Acknowledged, Specialist. Tell the squad good work and have them report to the Normandy for cleanup."
Clicking off the communicator, he turned back to the turian waiting patiently at his side. "Ready, Garrus?"
The turian raised his assault rifle. "Right behind you, Shepard."
Going through the tunnel-like channel took a simple maneuver: drop roughly two meters, and walk forwards. What wasn't standard activity came in the form of a scientist, poorly trained in friend/foe identification, and possessing even less capacity for the basics of small arms fire control.
"I'm sorry!" A young woman, roughly his age if the lines on her hands were any indication, held a pistol in an unpracticed position. Apparently, she'd learned how to shoot from watching movies. "I thought you were varren, or those geth!"
Shepard fought down his reflexes. It had been a single shot, and depleted by his shields, which made it easier. "No blood, no report. Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. And you are?"
The woman shook her head, as if shaking herself awake. Based on her motions, it seemed she'd been without sleep for quite some time. Over forty-eight hours, if he was any judge. "Me? Oh, I'm Lizbeth. Lizbeth Baynham. Doctor Baynham. And I'm tired. Who are you? Besides a soldier, I mean."
Shepard slowed down; she still held the pistol after all. "I'm investigating the actions of a former Council Spectre. Would you happen to know where I could get his information? I know he sent some representatives …."
He stopped to think the sentence over in his mind. Technically, he wasn't lying. Geth, although an aggressive, brutish choice for an advocate, did appear to be rendering their interpretation of Saren's interests, whatever they were. Ergo, they were his representatives … which was another indication of how far the former Spectre had fallen. Sending thugs that were obviously seen as the greatest living threat to Council society, working Saren's will? Unless it was a deliberate statement of power; that could be the point. Demonstrating capabilities that the combined forces of the krogan, asari and major turian forces couldn't accomplish.
Food for thought. It had many levels of meaning.
Brief though his musings were, it had made an effect on the little scientist. Her shoulders were hunched in on her neck, knees slightly bent. The ancient Acute Stress Response; Fight or Flight. Cursing himself, Shepard made yet another note to attempt relaxing when speaking with civilians.
"I'm sorry," he did his best to project a more casual bearing. "It has been a long day. How did you end up here?"
Tension leaked from Lizbeth's frame. "It's my own fault. Everyone started running, and I stayed behind to back up data. Next thing I know that geth ship latched on and … the power went out. I got trapped, when I tried to get out, the way was blocked. Some kind of energy field."
Shepard glanced at the bodies of several dead varren, lying near her position. That backed up her story, at least in part. "Fair enough. Why wouldn't the geth want anyone to get in here?"
She fidgeted. "Um, probably because they don't want anyone to get access to … um … the Thorian."
That hadn't been on the briefing. "Thorian? What's that?"
Lizbeth relaxed still more, gaining a more professional air. "It's an indigenous lifeform unlike well, anything really. ExoGeni first discovered it about three years ago, maybe a year after Zhu's Hope was founded."
"Hmmm," Garrus's mandibles widened, then clamped flat. Textbook exhibition of a suspicious turian. "Why would the geth be after something like that?"
The creaking rumble of falling debris interrupted the conversation. A booming explosion, almost drowned out by the sound of the synthetic avalanche, rumbled through the darkened chamber. Dust flew past Shepard's legs; the lack of plant life reduced any detritus to what had decomposed from stone and metal over the millennia; and an odd assortment of flat things that would have been leaves on a more hospitable planet. Shepard waited for the aftershocks to fade before pulling up his comm. "Shepard here. Report."
Hissing static met his ears, then a weak signal. "Shepard? Th-th-th-this is Tali. One of those rocket trooper bosh'tet's set off an explosive, brought down the ceiling. We ca-ca-ca-can't get to you!"
He sighed. Complications, everywhere; when would they end? "Check for alternative routes. If you still can't find anything, grab Wrex and Liara, then head back to the Mako. Wait for further orders there."
"Aye Shepard. Will do." Legally speaking, there was none of the required Alliance representative present for operating the Mako. But Wrex was under contract, and Liara had the trust of the Council … which had to count for something. If he worked that angle, emphasizing the trustworthiness of the aliens, and how little they could get away with on a roadway based in a hostile terrain, it should be acceptable. For most of Alliance Command.
How he hated politics.
Turning back to the scientist, he gave a half smile. "When we find a way out, we'll let you know. Now, why would Saren want a plant?"
The scientist shook her head. "Not just a plant, a plant dating back tens of thousands of years. Possibly more."
Shepard upgraded the threat potential. "Alright, a very old plant. Why?"
She shrugged, helpless. "I think it might have something to do with an investigation he's doing. They won't tell me much; I've only worked for ExoGeni for two years."
There was more to her words, but that could wait. There were growling sounds emanating from the darker corners of the chamber; and that took precedence. "Garrus. Company."
The turian's sniper rifle unfolded, a deadly flower of metal and polymers. "Got it. Painting five varren. Easy targets."
Shepard holstered the sidearm, drawing the urfbhert. "Even better. Watch my back. Lizbeth, stay in the corner, call out if something odd happens."
The growling fish-dogs cut off any response she might have made. A spear would have been better, was made for this kind of thing. But varren had a low jump capacity, and he wore armor comparable to chevalier quality hardware. Add my melee training, and I have an edge. His teeth shone in the gloom, visible even through the darkened visor. Pun intended.
Garrus's long gun spoke, tearing into the furthest varren. Shepard danced forwards, stroking the edge of his blade through the neck of another. It snarled, but without an intact spinal column, could do nothing more than die on the floor.
Concentrating, Shepard worked his way through the small pack, applying force where necessary. His proximity obliged the beasts to focus on him, while Garrus picked off their peripheral members. Between the two of them, the pack lasted less than five minutes, before the room lapsed into comparative silence.
"Good moves, Shepard. Ever thought of going on the circuit? Garrus's nimble talons cleaned a bit of grime from the side of his rifle. It was like sandpaper, the way his rough skin abraded against the metal.
"I did that for a few years," Shepard sheathed the sword. "Pistols and swordplay. Learned a lot, did a lot. Used to wow 'em in the Outer colonies, about twelve years ago."
"You … how … where did …" the scientist, formerly huddled in a corner, stammered like a poorly trained parrot. She shook her head vigorously. Her expression was unreadable. "How?"
Garrus exchanged a sidelong look with Shepard. "I think she's talking to you."
She's in shock. Shepard noted the still shaking hands and pale skin. Reduced circulation, long time without food, stressed, keep explanation short.
He cleared his throat. "Stay safe here. We'll get that barrier down, and get out that way."
She nodded dumbly, not responding. Not being able to read her expression was … frustrating. Even so, he could tell nothing he'd said had made it through.
"I think you broke her," Garrus's amused voice made his head hurt. It even sounded smug.
Shepard growled under his breath. "Not helping, Garrus. Lizbeth! Stay with me!"
The woman blinked at him, like one of Mindoir's lagomorphic herbivores in a speeder's headlights. He moved closer, forcing her attention to his face. "Stay. Here. You will be safe until we get back. Do you understand?"
Her throat gulped. "Yea … yes. I understand. Than – thank you."
Shepard waited until the scientist had retreated to a corner before joining Garrus on the far side. Civilians. Existence would be impossible without them, but immeasurably difficult because of them.
Entering the far side's exit, Shepard took point, pistol at the ready. The short hall was darkened, like the entrance to an old tomb. Shepard's feeling though, reminded him of an old ancestral manor. A sort of majesty still clung to the decrepit walls, remnants of an erstwhile race. Scraps of heraldic material were almost visible in his peripheral vision; faded colors of the more powerful squadrons.
That made him snort, amused at himself. How had he forgotten about them? Hadn't they defeated the Metacons in the Fifth Turning of Jal'tan?
Forget my own head if it weren't screwed on tight. Shepard checked his sidearm, unsheathing his blade once again. Two turns and they'd be out of the narrow confines, but in an area that probably held close-quarters situation. Just to be certain, he loosened the restraints on the Brawler. Quick-draws weren't just for show, they meant the difference between death and life.
"Watch your right," he warned Garrus. "Opening up ahead."
He could see it too, how the plating in the wall once designed to withstand the full force of Feros's Semi-Centennial winds, began its curve. Two meters downward, and another ten over, there would be a dropoff.
A niggling worry pushed against the back of his mind, but he ignored it. The dropoff point loomed just ahead.
Below, the massive landing claw of a geth dropship filled most of a hole in the wall. The hole itself looked ancient, barring the more recent signs of trauma, but provided a way for massive power cables to enter the building. That, by itself, was jarring. What made more warning bells go off in Shepard's mind was the pair of infantry-class geth, kneeling by the cables.
Shepard paused. Were they … praying?
Silently, he motioned Garrus to approach, and gestured over the edge. The turian followed his motion, pupils widening at the sight.
When the detective's rifle extended, Shepard instinctively reached out, pushing it down. No, he shook his head at Garrus's curious look. Not now. Stealth, forwards.
The pair moved in silence. Shepard's training over the course of his career more than equal to the task. He was pleased that the turian seemed to have an equally rigorous training. Garrus also seemed to appreciate the value of silence as well, holding his questions until after they'd reached a safer distance. With that range, Shepard's omni-tool provided an excellent image-capture enhancement; he took several pictures, focusing on the geth's unusual body positions. Perhaps Tali would be able to discern something useful.
"Shepard," Garrus cast a concerned glance back along the hall. "Not that I don't appreciate the aesthetics of a hall lacking my blood, but … what happened back there? Why didn't we destroy those geth?"
It was an important term Shepard noticed; destroy rather than kill. "They didn't react. Not when we got close, or when we were chatting on the airwaves. Why?"
Further back, neither of the two units had moved. "They're malfunctioning? Trying to set up an ambush?"
Shepard shook his head. "They looked fine. No battle damage, no repairing. Geth don't leave valuable resources lying around; they can strip an infantry chassis in less than a minute. No, something else was going on there … and it felt really close to a church service."
Garrus stared at him for a second before shaking his head. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
Shepard's reply got cut off by a buzzing of his intercom. "Shepard here."
"Shepard, this is Tali'Zorah. We just encountered a krogan, working for Saren!"
"So did you kill him?"
The quarian's voice held agitation. "Of course you bosh'tet! But Wrex says he didn't recognize any markings, and he was working with geth!"
"Interesting …." Shepard parsed the new data for a moment, then shelved it. "Keep tabs on the perimeter. It looks like a dropship is locked on the side of the building, powering an energy field. Garrus and I will get it off, then meet up with you."
Tali sounded skeptical. "You and Garrus will destroy an entire geth dropship, by yourselves? Commander, entire quarian squads have died trying to do that."
He let compassion bleed through his overtones, light enough to be felt but not quite enough to be consciously noted. "Then I guess we'll be the first. Don't worry so much; we got this."
Clicking off the connection, he caught Garrus looking at him. "What?"
The turian lifted one mandible in a characteristic smirk. "You like her, don't you?"
Shepard growled under his breath, and shoved past. "Not you too."
"It's kinda cute actually. She thinks the world of you, and you don't know what to do with that kind of attitude." Garrus strolled along behind him, as if it were just a walk in the park. "I mean, it's like she sees you as the big brother she never had. Family is important to quarians, very important. I bet you could upgrade from brother to a little something more if you gave her the right signals. Maybe a bit of cinctus for her suit? What girl wouldn't like a little jingle to mingle?"
"This conversation is over." Shepard rounded the corner. Wrecked machinery, human manufacture, lay everywhere. "Check out that hardware. If you have time to gossip, you have time to work."
The laughing quality didn't leave Garrus's flanged tones. "Whatever you say, Commander."
"Angela Jawthins, July nineteenth, Project Thorian. As the previous entry suspected, Species Thirty-Seven resides under Zhu's Hope. Initial test results remain conclusively negative; there are no similar genetic traits determined between Species Thirty-Seven and existing flora on alternate test sites."
Shepard scrolled through the data. Copies spooled onto his omni-tool, doubling the feed to a second hard drive in his pouch. Another entry caught his eye; he tapped the icon. A staid, male voice rumbled from the speakers, dry as the Prothean air around him.
"… epigenetic throwback to a less sessile form. Reversion under standard conditions resulted in a mobile chloroplast, exhibiting photosynthesis. Spores from the modern specimen exhibit similar mobility; test infections isolate auxiliary neural pathways and stimulate new connections. This adds to the hypothesis that pre-sessile specimens required motile symbiosis for propagation –"
He cut it off. Just below the entry lay a promising-looking link ….
"The thorian – excuse me, Species Thirty-Seven – has developed remarkable control over spores no longer contiguous to its epidermis. The control exerted over this detached material doesn't register on any of our EMF scanners. We can't exactly put the Thorian on a gurney and do a lobotomy … but what if a vertebrate were in contact? We know neural pathways are altered, could it be a sympathetic 'tuning' of the minds? The asari would know more about this, but after the last 'accident,' Aitch-Cue isn't allowing any more 'investment representatives' near any asari. A pity."
Shepard made sure that record had a copy in his growing evidence drive. He'd have to investigate the recent suicide on ExoGeni's watch more deeply. His finger stabbed the controls again, coaxing the virus to bypass the thickest firewall yet.
"Nelson, October Sixth, Project Thorian. Results indicate an 80% partial infection rate within thirty days. Complete control is achieved over an estimated ten percent of the population within the first two weeks, but now less than five percent appear to be un-infected."
His blood ran cold. Quickly, he looked for other entries by the same individual.
"Nelson, October Thirteenth, Project Thorian. All of Zhu's Hope is now under the control of the Thorian. Security had to deal with a potential leak, Doctor Baynham has taken exception to the methodology, but a reprimand seems to have calmed her. Additional evidence from the contracts signed by the colonists gave her further proof of our intentions. They will be fine; it's one of the risks of colonization. Speaking of which, there was nearly a leak from Zhu's Hope itself. Ian Newstead has been highly resistant; I must remind Jeong to remand Mister Newstead's communications permissions. The experiment is at a delicate stage … I am curious, what will the Thorian do next?"
Shepard's fingers shook. That particularly damning bit of evidence sent a copy to a direct link to his cabin aboard the Normandy. After a moment of thought, he copied the rest of the data as well; no sense in being incautious.
"Commander," Garrus called from the far side of the room. "I have something. An unregistered shipment went from here to a planet out in the Terminus Systems … for a private group of investors. No credits listed, but there's an account number."
He keyed a download of the rest of the panel. "They have a name?"
Garrus's talons flicked over the haptic surface with practiced ease. "Hmmm, they go with code names. Nothing useful. Wait, there's a reference to someone called 'Charon,' that ring a bell?"
"Greek mythology figure. Ferried souls to Hades," Shepard finished his copy. "Duplicate what you have, and let's get out of here. This place makes my skin crawl."
"Agreed." The other terminal powered down. "Thoughts on that geth ship?"
That was an uncomfortable situation. "Rockets. Enough should blow it apart."
"And the building?" Garrus countered. "I don't know Prothean architecture like you do, but if a barrage can get through geth hull armor, it can probably damage the building as well."
That brought Shepard up short. Prothean architecture? He didn't know … memories flashed in front of his eyes. The hallways, clean and pristine; fallback points, ambush positions. Memories a simple smith from the backwoods couldn't know. The Beacon again. What is it doing to me?
He shook the cobwebs from his mind. Time enough to consider the problems later, preferably with Doctors Chakwas and T'Soni helping. "This level of colony usually has GARDIAN towers set up. It certainly rates them with the stations in place; I didn't see any emplacements, did you?"
Garrus checked his flank, eyes moving in cautious sweeps. "Negative. Plenty of power cables, but nothing that looked like it could shoot."
Shepard reviewed his newly-added memories. They slipped in and out of grasp, hazy through the lens of the mind's eye. "There should be a storage chamber below us. That's where ExoGeni would have stashed the generators; hook those up to the dropship and we can generate an EMP field strong enough to shut it down."
"Hold it," Garrus turned to look at him directly. "You're saying geth, which are software programs, wouldn't have an effective defense against an EMP? Of any group in the galaxy, they're probably the ones with the most defense capacity against that very thing!"
"Defense, not immune." Shepard corrected. "Like waterproof. It only goes to a certain point, and then all bets are off."
"Fine. Just so you know …."
His gaze caught the cables attaching the computers to each other, and more significantly, to the ExoGeni power systems. All were of a far higher gauge than required – had ExoGeni? No, they wouldn't be so foolish, would they? "Garrus, can you get me a reading on those power cables? And where they all lead?"
"Sure," the turian flipped his omni-tool open. "Not a problem. Why would … oh. Oh dear."
"Exactly." Shepard's voice felt as grim as it sounded. "The idiots used GARDIAN generators to set up their own personal power supply. No wonder the geth were able to just park on the main building. Idiots."
Garrus snorted in amusement. "At least it means we don't have to go hunting all over the place."
"That would be me," Shepard tapped his temple, "I'll head down and flip over the generators to a DC current, rev them up to maximum capacity; I assume you know how to run a recursive shunt across resistant servers? We may have a lot of power to play with, but we'll need to use all of it if we're going to overload a geth server farm. If the hardware we've taken down is any indication, they're built Ford Tough."
A moment of silence inserted itself in the conversation, blatantly setting up an occupation center and watching the confused interaction. Turian and human culture encountered yet another discrepancy.
"Built … what now?" Garrus tapped one hip, a sign of confusion.
"Ford tough, like a rock … nevermind. Old human saying. It means very durable." Shepard jerked his thumb at the cables. "Let's get going. We have work to do."
The turian shuffled slightly, then moved onwards, grumbling. Shepard ignored the less-than-subtle jabs at 'crazy humans' and their penchant to speak in code.
Leaving the turian to continue his soliloquy, Shepard followed the wires towards their source. Logically, the thickest cables held the greatest amount of power; even if there weren't faint glimmers of something rattling beneath his conscious memory's surface. Using the trail of wires and logic as his guide, Shepard soon found himself in the power center.
He shook himself, almost attempting to pinch any available skin before forcing the augmented armor away. The generator room was … vast. More akin to the massive requirements of agricultural equipment storage than a comparatively simple room for power supply. Cables, thick as his thigh, ran from the machines to crudely made holes in the ceiling, drilled by people more concerned with efficiency than appearance.
A thought came to mind. "Tali," he tapped the earpiece, "I have a quartet of GARDIAN grade generators. Looks like a few terajoules; can you talk Garrus through setting up a power loop on a geth dropship?"
After a pause, her voice came through strongly. "Overload a dropship? You'd have to connect them to the power core and synchronize them … no that wouldn't work. But if you bypass safeties … what power output did you say?"
Shepard glanced at the generators towering over him. Each loomed well above that of a Juggernaut, possibly even a geth Armature. "I'm thinking along the lines of enough power to operate six fire-linked Aitan cannon. We have a pair on the Normandy, not sure what their draw is."
Her voice gained a distracted quality. "Yes, Adams won't let me work with them. But they have a significant power consumption rate, over double a GARDIAN tub. Yes … that should be enough. The geth have energy barriers, hooked directly to their ship's power center; could you hook up the generators to the geth cables?"
"I can do that, Garrus is already working on it up there." Shepard started searching for the controls. "Yeah, it's definitely in the terajoules range. More than five coulombs."
Malicious laughter echoed into his receiver. He paused, but it continued, bordering on maniacal. "Um, Tali? Are you there?"
The laughter cut off. "Shepard? Hem, sorry. The signal is breaking up. Kcchhhhhh," The signal buzzed, like someone blowing into their pickup. "That – kchhhhhh – should be enough. I'll talk to Garrus, you just – kcchhhhh – wait to turn on full power. Okay? Great, I'll get back to you."
Shepard stared at nothing in particular, the memory of her laughter running through his mind. "Sometimes, I miss my sanity."
Shepard waited, checking his calculations and planning his next move. I'll have to check for a volus audit group, see if they'd be willing to check an Alliance company. Regs should cover it, and those guys are vicious.
He tapped a note to himself, copying it over to a send program. It joined the other ideas he'd been jotting down while waiting. Have to bring the hammer down on Tevos and Udina; finish up the mess they started. Don't forget Fist; Wrex has a contract, can't ignore it. Kahoku had a problem, better check in with him since he hasn't contacted me. Numbers scrolled past his visor, suggesting different avenues. Can't buy out ExoGeni, but I can run them into the dirt. It's slavery, plain and simple, especially if I can throw in an embezzlement charge.
A voice buzzed into his ear. "Shepard, we're ready to go."
"Good." Shepard closed his application. The generators hummed, rumbling a bass counterpoint to the higher-pitched fans whirling at the sides of the room. It felt like pure potential.
Working quickly, he flipped the switches. Unlike lighter equipment, these generators had heavy steel levers, engaged as fail-safes. With them cut in, the power output was limited to something under half of their potential. But, by releasing the safeties, he could more than double the power. "Powering up gee-one," the generator throbbed to life.
"Diversion underway," Tali's voice came back strong. "Hurry Shepard, I can't keep them busy for too long."
Long strides carried Shepard to the second generator. The lever slid into place with a solid clunking finality. "Gee-two online. Moving to Gee-three."
No answer spurred him to faster motion. Generator three hummed into a higher activity level, leaving him to jog to the fourth generator. Whirring clicking noises made him first look for geth, but then discount the sound as the cooling systems started kicking on. The fourth lever slid into place, making the room's close quarters practically vibrate at the full power.
"Full power on. Fire away Garrus!"
Even with the sound-canceling properties of his helmet, the noise was deafening. Shepard fought the urge to cover his head, using the energy to get as far from the room as possible. Overpowering a geth ship held sound tactics, but there were equally sound reasons for not powering GARDIAN batteries to sustained full strength.
"Yeah, take that!" a flanged, turian victory yell boomed over his earpiece. "Geth taking casualties. Energy barrier is flickering, looks like it's coming down, Shepard."
An ululating call made made Shepard's hackles rise, rising and falling in a bloodcurdling expression of rage. Instinctively, he jumped for cover, pistol out and ready to fire. The sound ended abruptly, almost immediately followed by a sheepish-sounding Tali. "Sorry Commander. I forgot to turn off the headset."
Stunned, Shepard tapped the side of his helmet. Little Tali, the engineer so shy as to be nearly invisible in crowds, could scream like that? Then again, he'd seen her wield a shotgun with the consummate professionalism expected of a fully-trained marine. If she'd received that kind of training – and if his brief interaction with her father had taught him anything, she had – then there was minimal excuse for her capacity. "Not a problem. Just give me a heads up next time."
By now he'd grown familiar enough with her methods to recognize an embarrassed sign out. He refrained from noting it verbally. "Garrus, tell me what we have."
"One big dead geth dropship, that's what." The turians voice held an undeniable sense of satisfaction. "There were still a few little geth around, but I think we got most of 'em back at Zhu's Hope. I don't think they were expecting a counterattack quite so soon. It's still hanging there, but as dead as a volus fashion show."
"Right …" Shepard considered the idea, then let it go. Some things were too painful to visualize. "We need to examine the ship. There might be something useful aboard. Tali, any thoughts?"
"Eep!" Shepard blinked at the uncharacteristic gasp. "Um, I mean, yes Commander. I can get some of Delta squad to start up, but I know some people back on the Flotilla that would be very interested in examining this."
There was something more behind her words; he'd have to question her more closely after the mission. "Is it your recommendation then, that we turn this over to Quarian interests?"
He could hear the change in her voice, a more formal tone. "Indeed, Captain. My people would be grateful for the opportunity to study the dropship. No one knows the geth better than we do. Of course, an Alliance representative would need to be along, and welcome."
It didn't take much for him to make a decision. "Make it so. Ashley, you listening?"
"Better than Saturday morning cartoons sir." She sounded amused. "I'm setting up the forms, but … ah ..the colonists started acting funny a couple minutes ago."
His blood ran cold. "Define."
Without waiting, one hand motioned for Garrus to start moving. The Mako was less than a dozen feet away now that the energy barrier was down; that local scientist was already beating feet for the six-wheeled vehicle. Not another one
"They're all looking down at their feet … or maybe it's the ground by the freighter. Let me zoom in here … dangit, may whomever set the presets on this thing suffer a massive coronary … almost got it … there. Zooming in … yeah. They're looking at the ground under the freighter, that crashed one? In the center of the port?"
"I know of it," Shepard spun his hand around, hurrying the squad. "What of it?"
"It's … weird. They all just stopped moving, everywhere. Like, one's on the roof of a prefab, staring at the ground. The lady that yelled at us? And Fai Dan? Them too. No wait … they're moving again." Her voice sharpened. "Shepard, they're charging the Normandy. They're … attacking it? With their hands?"
A second line opened, Joker's panicked voice coming through. "Shepard? Commander! The colonists have gone crazy! They're attacking the ship!"
Shepard closed his eyes, settling into the back seat of the Mako. This was bad. Mind-controlled batarian slave bad. "Hold your fire, they can't hurt the ship. Ashley, are the squads safe?"
The gunnery chief responded with gratifying swiftness. "Light assault just took off; they have the rest of Charlie squad safe. Alpha's back in the Normandy, and Delta hasn't come on shift yet. Orders?"
The order took only a moment of thought. "Hold your fire. The second we open up it'll be a massacre. I'm going to stop by that source of radio signals we heard earlier, see if they can shed any light on the situation."
By the time the Mako stopped, Shepard was very, very angry. So angry that he didn't bother chastising the undisciplined scientist for leaping out of the Mako and running pell mell for the holdout by the surviving ExoGeni researchers. Possibly colonists. Certainly a group of dead people, if they'd had anything to do with what he'd just read.
"Wrex, Garrus," he snapped Excalibur into position on the right side of his back. "Stick together. Bad cop and bad cop. Tali, hack as much information as you can from as many people as you can. Liara, look menacing."
The asari drew herself up, surprised. "Menacing?"
He spared her a look. "Think krogan, with head tentacles."
Wrex chuffed a short laugh, but Shepard was already moving. He could hear conversation further down the ridge.
"Get away from her!" one voice was shouting. Lizbeth, by the sound of it.
Anger, Shepard identified the higher pitched voice, subconsciously categorizing the emotion. Danger reaction. Fight or flight, and she's done fleeing.
"What … get her out of here!" another voice shouted back. It sounded full of bluster, a voice that was used to being obeyed. Unexpected defiance flustered it … or perhaps confused by the situation?
"What the … come – come out of there! I know you're back there!"
Shepard took a breath, closing his eyes. Channeling anger to his inner self was an age-old mnemonic, but one highly useful. Let it show. Confidence. Arrogance. Rage. He stood, stalking down the ramp. Every step, casual but heavy; the walk of a supremely confident predator in the presence of nothing but prey. Coming to the bottom of the ramp, he deliberately stretched his shoulder, exposing the ancient weapon strapped to his left flank, as well as the N7 emblem fashioned in bold on his left pectoral.
Behind him, just visible from the corner of his eye, Wrex and Garrus sidled into view, weapons in hand. The pair made a formidable appearance; while Wrex loomed into sight with his hulking mass and threatening array of weapons, Garrus paced along with the rangy stride of a killer. His angular features, combined with the sniper rifle loosely held at an angle contrasted with Wrex's bulk. It would have been humorous, if not for the matching, mirthless grins both wore; something more suited to some extranet horror series.
Not waiting for the final two to enter, Shepard moved forwards again, focusing on the man that appeared to be in charge, seizing his attention. "Are you in charge of this place?"
The man recoiled, regaining his stance a heartbeat later. "District Manager Ethan Jeong. You must be Commander Shepard. I've heard about you … we don't need your kind of heroics around here."
Shepard raised his upper lip, showing his teeth in a cold smile. "Funny. I was thinking that's exactly what you needed. Were you in charge of this colony?"
"Not in charge per se," the businessman responded evasively, "I look after ExoGeni's interests. I hope you didn't damage anything in the headquarters. We 'd hate to have to sue for damages."
Shepard snorted derisively. "After the geth, the Thorian, and whatever devilry you've been cooking up on this colony, I'd be surprised if there were a lawyer in the Orion Arm that would be willing to take your case. Now, why don't we introduce ourselves before we kill each other, like civilized folks."
"Mom!" Lizbeth made a beeline past Shepard, at a woman held by two armored men with weapons. "Let her go you bastards!"
Shepard waited until the guards had released the older woman, making sure to glare in their direction until they stepped away from the reunion. "Interesting policies you have, Ethan. Can I call you Ethan? Of course I can; I'm a majority shareholder. You know that."
"And I thank you on behalf of ExoGeni," Jeong's fists tightened, a peripheral motion in Shepard's sightline. "Now that the situation is being resolved, we will return to making sure your investment is appropriately used. You don't need to waste your time here, now that the geth are gone, I hope?"
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea Ethan," Shepard took a pace to one side, preventing one of the security men from flanking his position. Garrus had already taken a position near the entrance, commanding a view of the entire chamber, what looked to be a runoff location from the Prothean highway. Wrex on the other hand, was holding position to the turian's left, leaving Shepard to hold the right.
Perfect.
"You see Ethan, I took a look at your files. The Thorian in particular, bothers me. Your shipments to unlicensed recipients, for unauthorized experiments disturbs me, and the fashion you've looked after your charges disgusts me. To be frank, I am highly disappointed in your actions to date. What we have here is a situation that leaves you with," Shepard paused to savor the words. "Negligible options."
Jeong sneered, he could hear it in the man's voice. "Shepard, you're a majority shareholder, but not by any means the only investor. Yes you have influence, but other interests have a lot more say in our practices than you. People that have much more power than a backwoods colonist could hope to command."
Snapping his fingers once, Shepard jerked his thumb over his shoulder, letting the anger simmering below the surface show itself by the barest minimum possible. "You should meet my associates. Detective Vakarian, one of the deadliest shots in Council space, dedicated investigator, and entirely external to Alliance affairs. The big krogan next to him? Urdnot Wrex, one of the most renowned names in the Terminus Systems – and you know how hard it is to be famous there." His thumb turned, jabbing in the other direction. "Tali'Zorah there has connections with the quarian Admiralty, and probably every scrap of data from your omni-tool by now."
Tali waved, the tool on her wrist pulsating brightly. She also turned slightly, an action Ethan would hopefully misinterpret to be a narrowing of eyes in his direction. Oops … forgot. I wasn't supposed to know about her connections, was I? Shepard pushed past the mistake; time for self-flagellation later.
"And of course I would be remiss to not mention Doctor Liara T'Soni, daughter of Matriarch T'Soni, whom as I recall is an investor of … primary importance. At least, according to the records you filed ten years ago. Do you have anything to add, Doctor?"
To his surprise the asari didn't say anything at first, but walked forwards, swinging her hips in a fashion he hadn't expected. "Ethan," she purred. "A … pleasure. Mother has been negligent in keeping me informed about our holdings. You wouldn't try to hold out on me, would you?"
Shepard watched in amusement as Ethan's Adam's apple jumped, right when Liara conjured a fistful of biotic fury in one hand, looking over its flickering state in a positively sultry fashion. "No, you wouldn't do that. So tell me;" the biotic field condensed, glistening in her hand like a crystal of pure death. "What has my dear mother been up to these past few months, hmmm?"
Keep up the pressure. Don't let him think. Shepard pressed forward another step. "I'm giving you a chance, Ethan. I already have everything I could want from you. The question is what you can do for me, so that I don't end your company's contracts. Permanently."
Jeong hunched, holding onto his head with both hands. "You don't understand! Communication is back up, I have orders to purge the colony. Start over."
Naked fury surged. Shepard took one long stride, grabbing Jeong's neck in one hand and lifting. The petty bureaucrat weighed less than anticipated. "Say what? Repurpose … a … a … colony?" The anger drove his voice down into the guttural range. "Think, and think hard about your next words. If I do not like them, you had better pray to whatever deity you've chosen to follow that I do not lose my temper."
Jeong clutched at his throat, prying at Shepard's fingers. "Species 37 – unlike anything we've ever seen. Investors – wanted results. Just – following orders!"
Shepard squeezed tighter. "Nuremburg defense didn't help the Nazis, did it?" He looked the man in the eye, focusing as much as he could on the widening pupils. Sheer, unadulterated terror lay naked on the man's every motion; he could smell the man's fear like the ripening stench of a fetid carcass. While every fiber of his being urged to keep squeezing, tightening until the man's neck resembled a stylus, he couldn't see any profitable outcome. In the end, giving in to emotion wouldn't help. Growling, he let go, dropping the man like a sack of potatoes. "You aren't worth killing. Not when you can still carry a message for me. Tell your superiors that they had better cooperate with the investigators in every way, and find a way to recompense the colonists they've abused. Otherwise, I'll extradite everyone who knew about this to a Hegemony interrogation facility. As a start."
The fallen man gasped for air at his feet. Shepard looked down at him in disgust before walking away with a violent jerk. He had power, and could use it to almost any degree. That didn't mean he wasn't still repulsed by abuse of power, even if it felt hypocritical.
"Commander," Liara sauntered closer. Her actions still looked wrong, like a bloodthirsty seductress that wanted a killing, not the shy intellect he'd come to know. "The colonists could still be useful. But they're … infected … by those spores. Lizbeth here just had an idea."
The young scientist shuffled closer. "The thorian is a plant; a really, really weird one, but still a plant. I think its spores work like a regular plant's does too, so if it makes contact, people react like an allergy. If we use a mild neurotoxin, and mix it with an herbicide, it should go directly to the spores. It would knock out the people too … I think. They have to have a reduced immune system, if the plant wants to keep control through something alien to their bodies."
Shepard lifted a shoulder incautiously. "Better than shooting them." Or exposing them from the very start. Better make a note about that, send the data to a few … disinterested parties.
"Good idea." His gaze swept over the squad. They really had done an excellent job. "Let's get busy people. Here be dragons, and we need a few knights."
A/N: Welcome to the mega chapter! 15k+ words, and my last chapter as a college undergrad. This has been a major source of stress relief, and I would like to thank each and every one of you for the time and reviews you've given me.
Thanks also to Nightstride, whom took one look at this, and said: "You can do better than that." If you want to know why this chapter is 2 weeks late, and 7k words longer, blame him. Or give him credit ;)
Suggested reading for today: Smoke Sorcery and Steel, by A Very Thirsty Megalomaniac. Excellent combo of Dishonored and Mass Effect.
Cya down the lane!
