MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2

*Episode Ten*

For the second time in twenty four hours, Lang had set out on a task for JSTF, though this time his apprehension took on a very different tone. His trip down to Molach's apartment in the Foundations was something new and the danger had brought with it a unique sense of excitement. Now, as he stepped out of the elevator and into the headquarters of C-Sec's Investigation Division, the stakes and the risks were much higher.

He'd seen the main hall a few times before, having spent some time there doing secondary training after leaving the academy. It hadn't changed. Trees heavy with pink blossoms accented with the warm glow of under-mounted spotlights still gave the place a park-like feel while above towered a vast stretch of blue-lit office windows stretching up at least a couple hundred metres.

Hordes of officers swarmed past Lang in unbroken streams, far more than usual. No doubt many of them were on their way to and from briefings on the bomb search, with no small numbers working longer shifts or even getting called in on their off-duty to help deal with the threat.

Lang summoned his senses. He tried to convince himself that he'd done the job just fine a few hours ago but this was different. Here, he was deep in the heart of C-Sec itself and even as a fellow officer he felt as if he was a stranger in a hostile land.

He started forward, making his way through the mob. As before, Lina's voice came through his earpiece, her voice going some way to calming his nerves.

'Hang a left, Chellick's office is pretty close to the entrance. Security feeds show he's not in there right now, so don't worry.'

Lang almost skipped as he changed direction, veering to the left and almost crashing into a female turian walking the other way. She cursed at him but didn't stop, and Lang echoed her sentiment inwardly. He had a bad feeling about this, one that was growing with every passing moment.

In spite of the risks, he pressed a finger to his ear. In that place, filled with C-Sec officers on the job, he was far from the only one doing so.

'What program am I running?' he asked.

'Mantius Twenty-Three,' Lina explained, 'it's a salarian-developed hack we sourced a while back. You've heard of the salarian Special Tasks Group? They used to use this.'

'Used to?'

'Well of course they've upgraded since, but you don't think they'd share their latest tech with us, do you?'

Lang smiled hesitantly. 'No, I guess not.'

He entered a hallway of pale metal, of the kind seen more facing the walls of the Presidium than the Wards. Blue holographic C-Sec emblems brought colour to the bare bulkheads at regular intervals and after climbing a short flight of stairs, Lang found a row of office doors to his left while to his right, a small waiting area opening up. Here, several civilians of different species waited on benches, some addressing their complaints to bored-looking officers while others passed the time by fiddling around with their omni-tools.

Lang ignored them as best he could as Lina directed him.

'Last door on the left. Ket has managed to isolate the lock mechanism but he can only open it for a few seconds, otherwise he'll risk detection.'

Lang didn't dare reply with other personnel within earshot. He came to the door panel in question and made a show of pretending to press it. He didn't need to wait long before the red light turned green and with a soft two-toned chime, the door slid open.

It felt like only a split second before he heard the lock beep again and he was forced to hurry through as the door snapped shut.

'Damn it,' he griped, 'that thing nearly took my leg off! Tell Ket to wait for me to at least clear the door frame next time!'

Lina's response sounded less than apologetic. 'Sorry, security's been tightened substantially since the geth attack, and with the terrorist threat C-Sec is on high alert. We can't spend any longer than necessary fooling around in there, any anomalies will be picked up in a matter of seconds.'

'Well at least I know to brace myself from now on.'

'Come on,' Lina pressed, 'the same goes for you too. The longer you spend in there, the greater the danger, but uploading the hack should be the easy part. Mantius Twenty-Three is still a cut above C-Sec's detection software, at least enough for our purposes. We just need to take a peek in Chellick's files, we're not making any changes that could get picked up.'

It was all a little beyond Lang, but he knew well enough how to start up a program. He didn't need to know the ins and outs of spy software to use it. His omni-tool bloomed on his right arm and he worked quickly to select and start up Mantius Twenty-Three. Amber polygons shifted and turned as the omni-tool did its work.

'Okay,' Lina announced, 'we're in. We just need a minute to do an initial scan, stand by.'

Lang rocked on the balls of his feet. He knew that if anyone came into the office at that moment he'd be arrested on the spot. Sweat began to dampen his brow and he wiped it off with the back of his other arm.

To his immense relief it didn't take long at all for Lina to come back to him, though he tensed at the sudden concern in the quarian's voice.

'This…can't be right. Ket, you sure about this?'

Lang waited, his body winding ever tighter with worry.

Lina spoke again, this time with greater urgency. 'Chellick has a backdoor into his terminal. We're also getting messages sent between him and another user in Investigation. The mails were deleted but records still exist on the other end.'

Eddie began to tremble slightly as he realised the unexpected twist the investigation had taken. 'What does that mean? What do these messages say?'

'There are a lot. This one here says "I know what you did, and I know you would prefer I kept that knowledge to myself." It goes on to list a series of instructions, removing evidence and deleting files. This is…this is unbelievable.'

'Detective Chellick was being blackmailed? Does it say what he did? What did this other guy have on him?'

'Not important,' Lina rushed to say, making Eddie frown in suspicion. 'Ket, take a look at the most recent messages.'

Again, Lang could only stand there, his omni-tool dancing on his wrist. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself until Lina came back to him.

'That bosh'tet!' she swore. 'He was trying to stall our investigation into Molach after all, but I never suspected he was being coerced into doing it. This other party, they told him to seize all evidence on Crimson Fist and direct it to…no, that can't be right, Ket. That makes no sense.'

The seconds stretched out once more. Lang flexed his fingers, casting nervous glances at the door. The voices outside seemed to grow louder, as if drawer closer and he expected the door to open at any moment.

Lina almost shouted through his earpiece. 'Officer Lang, get out of there! We have a fix on who's blackmailing Chellick. He's nearby.'

As he closed his omni-tool, Lang whispered, 'Who is it?'

'I can hardly believe it myself,' Lina began, trepidation halting her words, 'but these threats came straight from the desk of Captain Avrix Ferrata, commander of the Interceptors.'

~~~ME-I2~~~

War raged throughout Purgatory. Arlen strode a few paces behind Zwei as he stalked the confines of the ship, using his biotics to crush anything or anyone who stood in their way. Even now Arlen watched as the human sweated and grimaced, the effort of using his powers drawing his skin taut across sinewy muscle.

A Blue Suns merc screamed as Zwei smashed him into a bulkhead in a sweep of blue energy before throwing punches into the man's helmet, each one biotically charged and beyond the force of a normal human. Arlen stopped looking when the helmet cracked and the sounds turned wet.

It was difficult to tell what was going on. Gunfire and screams filled the air but the enclosed spaces made any sense of proportion difficult to discern. Arlen couldn't tell who was dying. The bodies of prisoners and guards looked equal in number as they lay splayed across the deck and draped over pipes and railings. Blood spattered the bulkheads in varying intervals, while the smoking shells of dog-like FENRIS mechs dotted the halls.

It was carnage, and Arlen couldn't ignore the weight of guilt pressing on his chest over his actions. He could only hope Petra had warned Agent Cannis in time for the salarian to make it off the ship.

Some kind of distant explosion rattled the deck and Zwei turned back to his crew, grinning. 'Come on, lads! At least look like you're enjoying yourselves!'

Arlen couldn't believe it. The guy was having the time of his life. He'd been chasing Zwei for a long time and he knew the man was insane, but to witness it first hand was different. It was something sobering and shocking all at once, like being doused in ice water, the effect leaving Arlen just as chilled to his core.

Tuvio and Madsen grinned nervously but the expressions were strained. They were armed with the weapons of dead guards but still unarmoured, and against the Blue Suns they were at a hideous disadvantage. To be safe, they followed in the wake of the tide of freed prisoners, with Zwei more than a match for any dead Blue Suns stragglers they came across.

Arlen stooped to pick up the rifle of the man Zwei had just killed but as his fingers traced the bloody metal, Zwei's boot came down, pressing hard on the barrel. Arlen looked up at him.

'Not for you,' Zwei sneered. 'Not yet.'

That feeling of cold dread only quickened in Arlen's veins, but he kept calm. 'The hell? You expect me to go on without a gun?'

'I expect you to do as you're told, mate,' Zwei replied firmly. He was still smiling but Arlen could see there was no mirth in it. He was testing Arlen, that much was certain.

For a brief, terrible moment, Arlen wondered if Zwei was just toying with him. Perhaps he was just being used to escape the prison and after that, he would be executed just as brutally as the guard who lay in a tattered pile in front of him. Arlen hung his head, resigned. He had no choice.

He nodded slowly and rose to his feet once more, and Zwei clapped him playfully on the arm.

'Don't look so worried, Ricky. You're pretty handy with those fists of yours, you ain't helpless.' Zwei turned and started forward again, forcing everyone into a brisk walk as he continued talking. 'So, you seem to have everything all planned out. Where's the armoury from here? My boys ain't gonna last long in a straight fight without armour and some heavy gear.'

'I think it's this way, off to the right.'

Arlen couldn't well say he had little real clue. Though he'd spent some time with Cannis going through the Purgatory's schematics on the journey over and had a general idea of where the ship's major strong points were located, the truth was that he'd envisioned making a quick break for the nearest shuttle. Zwei, however, seemed intent on settling some unfinished business before they left. Arlen knew at the back of his mind there was no way he could've even been certain where he'd have started his escape attempt to begin with, so any attempt to properly memorise the ship's layout would have taken longer than he'd had the time to spare. He could only beseech whatever foul spirit Purgatory had that Petra was listening in from wherever she was.

To his private relief, his AI friend appeared to be paying attention. As they stalked the corridor, doors locked with a harsh buzz, their central panels turning red. Petra was funnelling them towards their destination, he was certain of it.

Tuvio spoke behind him. 'Whatever you did to this place, I ain't seen anything like it, Pavek. What is it, some kinda computer virus?'

'Something like that,' Arlen responded cagily.

'Whatever it is,' said Madsen as his head jerked around at every small noise, 'it's tearing this god damn ship apart.'

'Settle down, you lot,' Zwei told them. 'We ain't going anywhere till we've found Naraya and Tuvia. To do that, first we need to get our hands on some heavy firepower, then get into a terminal so we can track them down.'

'Right, Boss,' Tuvio replied, his confidence rising.

Arlen wished he felt the same. He'd never felt so out of his depth, not even when captured by rogue turian soldiers in the depths of the Zoryan jungle. At least back then he'd had the benefit of training to fall back on. Here, it was a different kind of survival. Amidst the anarchy, the relentless, terrifying noise of desperate battle within darkened mechanical hallways, it felt like no amount of training would make a difference to his odds.

He almost missed the flash of green to his left, signifying an open door. He halted suddenly, making Tuvio swear under his breath as the turian almost crashed into him.

'Through here,' Arlen said, making for the door without hesitation.

'I thought you said it was to the right?' Tuvio asked irritably.

Arlen didn't know what came over him. Perhaps it was the ambience of savage war battering his senses, but he didn't care. His nerve snapped, bringing with it a frothy rage that made him step close to Tuvio, breathing into the man's face.

'You wanna lead the way?' he snarled angrily. 'Huh? You wanna go find that armoury? 'Cus I planned to be outta here right now, not wandering the whole damn ship with a jackass with the likes of you!'

Tuvio's bare grey carapace shifted in furious disbelief. 'You stepping up to me now, Pavek? You don't think I'll put a bullet in your head, you little punk?'

Madsen forced his way between them, pushing both turians apart by their chests. 'You guys serious? You gonna do this now? Come on, Zwei's right, we can't leave the girls behind.' He looked into Tuvio's eyes. 'You wanna leave your sister in a place like this?'

Tuvio's iron glare remained on Arlen as he answered. 'No.'

Madsen looked to Arlen next, pointing at him insistently. 'And you, we need you to get out, but this is a two way thing. Don't forget, you do this thing for us and we'll take care of you once we're on the outside.'

Unable to stop his own fears from making themselves known, Arlen took his eyes from Tuvio and looked over his shoulder at Zwei. 'That's what I'm afraid of. You ain't letting me arm myself here. What's to stop you gunning me down once we escape?'

Zwei's sick grin remained, like a razor slash across his jaw. He'd picked up a discarded shotgun, which now swayed back and forth lazily as his arm rocked by his side. He chuckled as he brought it up, not in aim but to rest it against his shoulder as he swaggered in Arlen's direction.

'Absolutely nothing,' he smirked. Each footstep echoed heavily, clear even against the clamour of battle. 'Nothing's gonna stop me from killing you when we escape. Or the day after. Or the day after that. I might bloody kill you now, just to see if the colour of your brains matches their armour.'

He jerked a finger at a fallen Blue Suns guard only feet away. He dipped his head slightly, staring at Arlen from under a low, bony brow.

'I can kill anyone I want, whenever I bloody well want. You see, Ricky, the thing about me is if you ain't already dead then you're either useful to me or I like ya.' He drew to a halt less than a pace away. 'I'll let you guess which one you are now, but after all this? We'll see.'

To Arlen's surprise, he lifted his free hand, gesturing to the others. 'But standing up to Tuvio? Not seen that very often. That's a good start, mate. Very good start.'

He cackled as he entered the open door, followed by Madsen. Tuvio started after them, pausing only to throw a long, threatening glance at Arlen. For his part, the Interceptor could only stare back blankly, even after Tuvio had departed.

He wasn't sure what had just transpired. His instincts were the only things leading him now and they weren't connected to the rest of his consciousness. Action and memory were separate and distinct, and he knew some of the things he'd seen in Purgatory would only come back to him in nightmares. Perhaps the exchange with Zwei would be the same, a series of flashbacks taunting him with what he could or should have said differently to save his own life before he died.

Forcing those thoughts aside, Arlen finally went after Zwei and his crew, the cries of the dying and fearful dogging his every step. They felt like a fitting backdrop to his helplessness.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Admiral Kaion's private quarters were large, as was to be expected on a ship the size of the Kanderax. They weren't quite twice the size of a captain's cabin on a normal dreadnought but it was very close.

Most of the decorations and ornaments came as standard but even were it permitted for Kaion to replace them, he wouldn't do so. There were priceless relics on display; ceremonial hunting blades from ages past, paintings of historic admirals and heroes of great battles, models of the ships they captained that Kaion could recognise from the smallest detail.

The spirit of the Kanderax was kept strong by these links to the glorious history of his people, but none of it gave him comfort at that moment. He had changed from his armour into a set of dark formal robes, the craggy spines of his face protruding from an embroidered hood that covered the top of his crest and the base of his fringe. His mandibles pulsed as he sat at a desk, waiting patiently for his guest to arrive.

Finally, his cabin door chimed and he raised his voice.

'Enter.'

Through the door stepped another turian, tall and muscular in a suit of bulky black armour with dark green inlays. It was an expensive suit, though the man inside looked anything but rich and pampered. The skin of his neck was dark brown, blending into a stone grey around his face that lightened almost to white on his jaw. Angular green blocks were painted under his silver eyes and along his mandibles, enhancing his broad, strong appearance.

The turian saluted, respectfully waiting for Kaion to speak first.

'It's good to see you, Prax,' the admiral said quietly. He nodded to the door. 'Lock it.'

Prax did as he was ordered, striding over to the door and turning back when he saw the panel light change to red. He approached Kaion again, standing rigidly to attention.

Kaion waved his hand. 'At ease.'

As Prax relaxed and tucked his hands behind his back, Kaion assessed the man he'd summoned.

To the naked eye, Prax Cingetos was still the hard wall of muscle Kaion had always known him to be. He bore a multitude of weapons on back and hips - pistols, heavy rifles and even an old grenade launcher, the kind that had long gone out of service. It wasn't something Kaion would ever think to raise with him, not even in jest. If Prax deemed a weapon worth carrying, it was still more than useful.

Kaion knew Prax wouldn't take a seat if it was offered, so the admiral chose to stand. He rose and began his customary pacing, taking a wide circle around his motionless guest.

'It's good to see you haven't lost your bearing,' said Kaion.

In spite of the stiffness of his body, Prax's voice was deceptively cool and serene. He wore a smile that was so slight that it could've been dismissed as a trick of the eye.

'Old habits die hard, as they say. I admit, I was surprised to hear you'd been given the Kanderax. It's good to see you again, Sir.'

'Likewise,' Kaion replied honestly. 'I just wish it were under better circumstances.' He measured his next words carefully. 'How much do you know of the current difficulties facing the Hierarchy?'

'I believe they begin with a T and end in Seven.'

Chuckling, Kaion stopped in front of Prax, lowering his head. 'Well said. The truth is, our investigations into both the theft of the T-Seven and the search for its current location have hit dead ends. Maybe something will turn up in time, but Councillor Sparatus has seen fit to let Citadel Security handle the matter instead of his own people. I don't think I need to tell you the price we'll end up paying if someone else cleans up our mess.'

'An unacceptable one, Sir,' Prax ventured.

'That's right. I called you here for two reasons. The first is to ask you, have you come across anything we should know about in your own line of work regarding this situation?'

Prax shook his head. 'I wish I could say yes. It's all smoke and mirrors right now, everyone knows something big's going down, but after that whole geth business six months ago we're all having to work twice as hard to get our intel.'

'Understandable, considering the finer points of that particular incident.'

Prax felt no need to elaborate further. 'And the second reason, Sir?'

Kaion glanced aside briefly. There were no more ears in that room, but it was a long-developed habit of his to assume someone could be listening in.

'This T-Seven debacle is linked closely to yesterday's terrorist attacks on Thessia, Boro and Adanis. Along with the other senior admirals of the Citadel Fleet, I was asked to submit my recommendations to the Council on how to respond. I practically told them we should raze the Terminus Systems to dust.'

Prax's grin widened. 'You haven't lost your touch.'

Kaion matched his expression. 'One thing you can count on, old friend. If you present two extremes to the Council, they will inevitably meet somewhere in the middle. Between my radical proposals and Lidanya's cowardly inaction, they accepted Pyat's compromise - that there should be no fleet action, but we do the next best thing.'

He straightened, his voice serious. 'Consensus is there should be a Spectre on the case. I want that Spectre to be you.'

Prax's green paint flashed in the cabin's dim light. He turned his head, considering Kaion's request.

'Work has been harder to come by since Saren went rogue,' he murmured thoughtfully. 'Seems everybody's a little more suspicious of us these days. Turians, I mean. Council's been dishing out all the best jobs to the salarians and asari. Even talk of more human Spectres after that Shepard character saved their hides. Can't say I blame them, but it's been boring as hell these past six months.'

Kaion's features hardened. 'This could be a bloody one, Prax, I won't lie. We have a possible lead on one security leak. If confirmed, the time to act will be short. How dirty will you let your hands get for this?'

Breaking his rigid pose, Prax spread his hands out to illustrate his point. 'As dirty as they've always needed to get, Admiral. You know me, I've never shied away from doing what needs to be done.'

'Good,' said Kaion with a nod. 'Very good. You know I didn't come to you just because of our history. You're the best damn soldier I've ever known. I'm just grateful that even after joining the Spectres, you haven't forgotten where you came from.'

Prax's body language now changed completely. His limbs, his posture, all were as loose and relaxed as his voice as the old turian discipline gave way to the more natural individuality of the Spectre within him. It was an odd thing to see for Kaion, two different sets of mannerisms in one person, but Prax had more than earned the informality.

'As if I can forget,' Prax remarked with a smile. 'I wouldn't be with the organisation if you hadn't recommended me, Sir.'

'It was well deserved.'

Something unspoken passed between the two men, memories of service and sacrifice long ago merging with the stark irony that those events had brought them both to that point, all for a mission that could ensure or damage the future of the turian race depending on the outcome. It was a fitting sense of purpose for both of them, Kaion thought as he shook Prax's hand.

'I'll be in touch. Good luck, old friend.'

Prax departed, his heavy footfalls audible even through the door after it closed. Kaion sank back into his desk chair, his eyes turning to his terminal as he waited for the news that would decide how best to use Prax in his new role.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Gathering intelligence for JSTF now no longer felt like an adventure to Lang. He couldn't believe that only a few hours ago he was actually excited to infiltrate a crime scene, that he'd felt like some kind of super spy or Spectre when he'd stolen Molach's discs.

As he manoeuvred around a group of milling officers back in the C-Sec Investigation atrium, he knew just how childish he'd been. He paused for a moment, making a show of accessing his omni-tool to read some report or other, like a few others in the vast hall. It wasn't a conscious thing now, the need to blend in, but a survival instinct. He felt goosebumps on the nape of his neck, as if the eyes of others were narrowed on him in suspicion at all times.

As he prodded blankly at his omni-tool, Lina spoke through his earpiece.

'What's wrong? Why are you stopping?'

Lang lifted his eyes to look about the hall without moving his head. He shouldn't have been surprised that Lina was aware of his every move, though he was curious whether it was a camera feed, some other passive sensor built into the area or if JSTF had slipped some sort of tracking implant into the coffee he drank earlier. None would have surprised him.

'I just need a second or two,' he said quietly. He took his time, careful not to give his intentions away openly. 'This is…this is pretty major, y'know?'

'On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the craziest thing we've had to deal with? I'd say the commander of a Citadel Security subdivision blackmailing a detective into blocking a counterterrorism operation ranks about a seven.'

Lang scoffed, for his own benefit if nothing else. 'A seven, huh? Good to know it can only get worse from here.'

The reality of the scenario was hitting him hard now. It made his stomach writhe.

Lina sensed his hesitation. 'Look, Officer Lang, I'm not going to force you to do this. But I won't lie to you either. If Captain Ferrata has ties to Crimson Fist he could give us the kind of intel we need to ensure they can't do anything like this again. Not only that, but there's the possibility he might be connected to Zwei Jaeger in some way.'

'How do you figure?'

'We can't discount the chance that Zwei was hired by a third party to steal the T-Seven, using the casino heist as a cover. Ferrata could be interfering in the investigation to tie up our resources and hamper the bomb search, it's impossible to know for sure. But he's the head of the Interceptors, the ones who were hunting Zwei down to begin with. That's too big a coincidence to ignore.'

Moistening his lips, Lang forced new strength into his voice. 'Do you think he's been trying to sabotage Arlen's investigation like he is ours?'

'It's possible,' Lina answered, her tone solemn. 'That's just another reason to go after this guy now, before he realises we're onto him. For all we know, Arlen's life could be in danger. He shouldn't be aware of Arlen's operation, we've kept it all under wraps but if Ferrata's been feeding information to Zwei's crew, if he's been playing both sides then Arlen is in serious danger right now. We have to know for sure.'

Lang nodded resolutely. 'You're right.' He took a deep breath to steady himself. 'Okay, let's do this. Where am I headed?'

'Take the corridor opposite to the one you just came out of. Keep following it until you get to a secondary elevator. There should be signs pointing out the floor the Interceptor offices are on, but you don't want to stop there. Take the elevator to the floor below.'

Knowing better than to question her, Lang set off. A good deal of his confidence returned and his stride reflected it. He'd found his easy smile again as he followed Lina's directions, entering a hallway all but identical to the one he'd just traversed. It didn't take long to find the elevator he needed.

Secondary elevators were different to the wide glass tubes that linked the major parts of the station. This one was a sleek metal door faced with light blue holograms listing various departments and their respective locations. Lang ignored the 12F - Citadel Security Interceptors in favour of 11F - Investigation Main Archive. He breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator opened immediately, empty and silent.

He moved quickly, thumbing the haptic button for the eleventh floor. Citadel elevators always moved quickly but more often than not the journey seemed longer than necessary, a running joke among C-Sec officers. Some spoke to pass the time, others were content to listen to the news reports piped into the elevator, but Lang had no such options. Even in the short few seconds it took to reach his destination he had nothing but time to consider what could go wrong.

'Almost there,' he told Lina.

'Good. You're going to gain access to Captain Ferrata's office through an air duct. There's a conditioning unit nearby. Head left out of the elevator, take the second right and it's the first door on the left.'

'Left, second right, first door on the left. Got it.'

Lang bounced lightly on his feet, working up the courage he'd need. He was about to go crawling through air vents, that much was clear, and he knew he wasn't the smallest or lightest guy on the Citadel. The main ducts were massive but he'd have to be careful to move without making too much noise, and his size wouldn't work in his favour.

He was immediately out of the elevator when it opened, following his route to the letter. When he got to the air conditioning unit door he looked about carefully, only entering when the coast was clear. The room was pitch black and he had to turn on his omni-tool's flashlight to get his bearings.

The room was large and incredibly noisy, with dozens of ventilation systems all working at once to pump air around that section of the station. Huge blocky machines glittering with blinking red lights filled it, each with one or more rectangular metal ducts extending from the top.

Lang had no choice but to raise his voice. 'Lina, can you hear me?'

'Barely. Listen carefully, you're looking for air duct thirty-two A. Can you see it?'

It took a few moments of searching, Lang's flashlight beam cutting through the dusty shadows as it scanned the room. Eventually he saw the label stamped on one of the metal tubes leading out the back of the room.

'I got it. What now?'

'There's an access panel towards the base. You should be able to open it by hand.'

Lang worked quickly, tracing the duct to where it met its parent unit. The metal of the duct was thicker than he expected, and he grunted as he lifted a heavy handle set into a square hatch near the end of the duct. He lifted the hatch open and shone his light inside. It was empty, though many years of dust buildup caked every surface. The noise was unbearable as powerful fans and refrigeration systems droned only feet away.

'Well, you wanted to see real action,' he muttered to himself as he hauled himself into the duct. It wasn't as cramped as he'd feared and though it was big enough to walk in a crouch, the loud clanging of his heavy boots forced him to crawl on his hands and knees.

'Be careful what you wish for, Eddie,' he continued to murmur under his breath. 'Next thing you know, you're covered in centuries' worth of dead skin and dirt breaking into a captain's office. Aim lower next time, like a traffic stop. Or another geth invasion.'

Lina gave no indication she was listening to his rambling. 'You'll reach a junction in about fifteen metres. Take the right and you'll come to a service ladder. That'll take you up to the eleventh. I don't need to tell you to keep the noise to an absolute minimum after that. You'll be right above a whole department of working offices.'

'Right. One of those is Captain Ferrata's, I take it?'

'Indeed. He's still there but we're working on a diversion to draw him out and give you the time you need to upload the Mantius program. Just keep moving, I'll direct you as you go.'

~~~ME-I2~~~

Zwei laughed madly as another Blue Sun fell, his rifle chattering all the way to the deck. The sounds of carnage had intensified all throughout the ship as the riot built up momentum and Zwei seemed to be revelling in the battle. He made a show of blowing away smoke from the barrel of his heavy Eviscerator shotgun, which he lowered easily with a single hand on the grip.

He was strong despite his wiry frame, another thing Arlen noted in a growing list of traits that only made him a more terrifying prospect to try and bring down. It took repeated efforts on Arlen's part to remind himself that arresting Zwei wasn't his goal. The T-Seven was all that mattered.

The war on the Purgatory told a grim story as they fought their way through the prison. The initial surprise of Petra's electronic attack had meant a sudden and bloody rush of prisoners against ill-prepared guards but Arlen had seen enough of the Blue Suns in his previous time on Omega to believe they'd been beaten. Already the gore-soaked jumpsuits of prisoners were beginning to outnumber those of the guards, lying in front of concentrated chokepoints where only one or two mercenaries had been slain. The discipline of the professionals was already beginning to tell and Arlen could only be thankful that Petra was opening isolated doors to corridors where the resistance was thin or pitched battle had already been and gone.

Before them, the vault-like door to the female cell blocks opened with an ominous hiss. The armoury had given the small group more than just high-powered weapons and suits of ablative plating. It had also yielded the locations of every prisoner in the complex. Madsen had remarked at the time how lucky they were that the two female members of their crew were housed in cells right next to each other, a coincidence that made Arlen silently promise to give Petra the vacation she deserved once it was all over.

The yard beyond the door was exactly the same as the one from which they'd just escaped, but this time the destruction made Arlen's lips part in shock.

The same alarm blared from every speaker, the same emergency light drowned everything in hellish orange, but it was all broken by large roaring fires and the moans of wounded women. Most disturbingly were the results of a much bloodier struggle for the area - the bodies of female prisoners littered the floor in a dark carpet. That the fight had obviously moved away from the yard long before was of no comfort. As they advanced, Arlen tried to ignore the twitching hands grasping feebly at his ankles, and the whispered pleas for help coming from below. He wanted nothing more than to let his face wear the look of horror he felt inside.

Zwei led the way, unaware or uncaring of the dead at his feet. Tuvio mirrored his impassive manner but Madsen kept glancing at the floor erratically, wincing whenever his foot snagged on a corpse, or someone who was soon to become one.

The cells they were looking for were still closed, Petra having sealed them in lest they became lost in the roiling violence. The doors groaned open as they approached and both Tuvia and Naraya stepped out cautiously, the latter smiling cockily when she saw Zwei.

'Should've known you had something to do with this,' the asari remarked. She pressed herself into Zwei, kissing him deeply.

Tuvia snatched the offered pistol from her twin brother's hand, priming it expertly. 'Here I thought we were missing out on something when it got noisy outside. All we missed was a massacre by the looks of it.'

Zwei pushed Naraya away roughly, turning to them all. 'We're heading to the shuttle bay. Mads, give Naz that extra rifle. Time for us to scarper.'

Naraya frowned at Arlen as she took her weapon from Madsen. 'Who the hell's this?'

'This here's the magician who pulled off this little trick,' Zwei replied, nodding at Arlen in approval. 'Got his hooks right into this ship's network somehow. If it wasn't for all the mercs still crawling about, I'd suggest a nice little hijacking but we've got more important business.'

'The casino job?' Madsen asked.

Arlen paid no heed to the poisonous looks thrown at him by Naraya. He listened only to Zwei's response.

'Yeah. We've got payment to sort out. Let's move.'

The crew moved on briskly, Naraya's glare lingering on Arlen before she too hurried to catch up, walking at Zwei's side.

Madsen tapped Arlen on the arm as he passed, giving the turian a wink. Whether it was one of acceptance or something else, Arlen didn't know. He thought on the impossibility of his circumstances as he walked. It was open war on the Purgatory but now as their escape drew near, he turned his mind to absorbing every scrap of information he could. It was only a matter of time before the subject of the T-Seven was brought up and his surveillance monitors would ensure JSTF heard everything he did.

Their path took them only a short distance. Doors miraculously opened as they approached, with all others locked securely, leading them on in relative safety. Arlen recognised the shuttle bay corridor from his earlier arrival and as the group stopped at the large entrance doors, he wandered to a nearby maintenance terminal.

He'd managed to secure an omni-tool from the armoury and he opened it as he neared the terminal. Petra was already waiting and the upload began the second a connection was established.

'What are you doing?'

It was Naraya, her eyes narrowed warily. The others were discussing a plan of attack, knowing full well a force of Blue Suns would be defending the shuttle bay as one of their main escape routes should the riot turn against them.

Arlen thought quickly. 'I'm tapping into the security feeds to see what's on the other side of the door. The more we know about the enemy positions, the better our chances.'

She nodded grudgingly but didn't tear her hawkish stare from him as Zwei approached.

'Leave him alone, Naz,' he warned. 'He's done all right by us so far, this fella.'

'I didn't know Attican pirates were so tech-savvy,' she responded without looking at him.

'Takes all kinds, I suppose. Anyway, I ain't making up my mind about him till we get out. Calm your blue tits down until then.'

Arlen pretended to be caught up in his task but he was channelling all his strength into not shaking with fear. Something about the way they were all speaking to him; he'd expected suspicion but there was something odd about it all. Perhaps he was only being tested. After all, with the speed the operation was set up, there was no chance of his true identity being known in the prison.

In the dragging moments filled only with the din of muted battle, Petra saved his skin once again by bringing up a security camera feed for the shuttle bay while uploading herself to his omni-tool.

Zwei pressed in close, followed by Naraya and one by one the rest of the crew strained to get a good look at the small screen. The grainy blue-grey footage was far from clear but the outlines of a dozen mercenaries were distinct as the camera panned across the room.

'Three groups of four,' Arlen murmured, his skills of assessment drilled into him during turian military training and honed with field experience coming without thought. 'Two heavies in the far left and right teams.' He briefly realised Petra was now no longer in the Purgatory's systems and he looked to Zwei. 'My virus has run its course, we won't be getting any more assistance. If you expect me to be any help in there, now's the time to give me a weapon.'

Zwei's ever-present grin remained locked in place, teeth bared. 'You've been enough help, mate. I think you ought to let us do a bit of the heavy lifting. The girls here need to work out the kinks anyway. Especially Naz, she's as kinky as they get.'

Naraya elbowed him sharply, making him chuckle. Arlen looked back to the screen helplessly and his omni-tool beeped as Petra's upload completed.

Zwei strode to the doors. 'Naz, you take Mads on the left. Twins, you're taking the right. I'll handle the rest. Start shooting the second the doors open. You all know where they are so I don't wanna see anything left alive in there.' He turned back to Arlen for a moment. 'Ricky, you find us a shuttle and warm up the engines. If I see you lifting off before we're all on board I'll warp the hell out of those thrusters so bad that you'll end up as turian soup, you get me?'

'Yeah, I get you,' Arlen growled bitterly.

The group split up as ordered, readying their weapons. When the doors opened, they poured fire on the defenders.

Arlen barely registered the wide shuttle bay and the small groups of mercs, neither did he focus on the gang as they fired on the move. His eyes scanned the area for shuttles, seeing the one he'd arrived in still on the deck. As streams of mass accelerator fire hammered into the bulkheads around him, he launched into a staggering run, keeping his head down as he threw himself behind a nearby shipping crate.

He peeked out to see several mercs drop from the sudden and coordinated assault. Zwei's crew moved with the kind of discipline Arlen had never expected to see from criminals.

He hauled himself out to sprint forward, moving from cover to cover. It was the only way he would survive and even then he flinched as rounds bounced off the surrounding surfaces in showers of yellow sparks. Again, he made for the shuttle, ignoring the stomach-churning whoosh of Zwei's biotic charge and skipping over the body of a merc who was launched into the ground directly in front of him.

He opened the shuttle door immediately and almost dove through the front hatch into the pilot's compartment.

'Get this thing fired up, Petra,' he said under his breath. Weapons fire clanged and thudded into the fuselage around him, making him jerk instinctively in his seat.

He looked over his shoulder as he heard the pounding of feet and saw Madsen and Naraya rush into the passenger compartment, followed closely by the turian siblings. Zwei was last, jumping in with a single bound. He seemed to be dragging something behind him but Arlen didn't stop to get a closer look.

The shuttle doors slammed shut and instantly, the thrusters fired. The shuttle bay flashed by outside the window as Arlen cranked the mass effect drive up to full and he heard everyone stumble behind him as the craft accelerated far beyond its usual tolerances, replacing the shuttle bay bulkheads with the void of space in mere seconds.

As the knowledge dawned on him that they'd actually pulled it off, Arlen released a ragged breath. He panted in exhaustion, unaware of just how tired he was until that moment.

Zwei's voice sounded at his rear. 'Good job, Ricky. Leave this thing running for a sec, I want a word with you.'

Any relief Arlen felt at the escape was suddenly replaced with a chilling dread. With overburdening trepidation he climbed out of the pilot's seat and stepped into the back. What he saw on the ground, surrounded by Zwei and his gang, trapped the air in his lungs.

It was Agent Cannis. The salarian's helmet had been pulled off and his Blue Suns armour was speckled with separate splatters of blue and red blood.

Arlen's gut felt heavy and painful, which he tried to hide as he spoke.

'Who's this?'

Zwei laughed. 'Just a little fun and games for the trip. After all, it was a bit unfair of me not to let you join in back there. Call it my way of making it up to you.'

Zwei held out his hand and beside him, Tuvia placed her pistol in his palm. Zwei spun the grip in place and leaned over, offering the weapon to Arlen.

'You wanted a gun? Here it is.'

As it became clear to Arlen what was being asked of him, that feeling in his stomach fell away into a crippling nausea. Time itself slowed down as he stared down at Cannis, into his large, dark eyes. Cannis looked back at him, his mouth smashed and bloody, and there was defiance in his gaze.

Arlen didn't need to see the keen glares of the rest of the gang to know what they expected him to do. The pistol lay in Zwei's hand expectantly. If it wasn't taken, Arlen knew both he and Cannis would be killed. Even as his mind worked furiously to consider his options, he knew there were none. Even as his heart ached for something to happen, some miraculous intervention that would spare both their lives, nothing came.

His fingers twitched as they wrapped around the pistol grip. Never had a weapon felt so heavy as he lifted it and pointed it at Cannis' head.

Their eyes were locked together. Still Arlen waited for something, anything to interrupt this but with every passing moment, the fingers of the merciless crew inched towards their own triggers. There was nothing but the shuttle and its murderous inhabitants, and the helpless salarian who looked resolutely down the barrel of the pistol held by his own comrade.

Arlen knew he couldn't even close his eyes. Any sign of weakness would be noticed. Acid flooded his veins, making his every sense burn. He didn't want to do this.

The flash came, then the bang.

Cannis' eyes rolled up into their sockets and his head slumped, his jaw slack as green blood seeped out thickly.

Arlen was expressionless as the gang whooped their sadistic joy at the execution.

Inside, he screamed.

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