MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2
*Episode Eleven*
The air duct had narrowed considerably the further into the system Lang travelled, until his private fears were finally realised and he was forced to lie down and crawl the rest of the way.
From the moment he'd stepped off the service ladder and into the shaft that branched off into the main Investigation office floor, he became aware of hundreds of muffled voices, the muted conversations of all the floor's officers amplified by the metal walls of the ventilation system. It was an indistinct chorus, rising with pitched arguments and laughter in irregular intervals, and it made concentrating an uphill battle.
Lang pursed his lips as his elbow caught on something hard and he knew there would be a nasty scratch. He tried not to think of all the alien allergens and bacteria in the dust-lined surfaces that could get into any exposed wound, just another of the countless worries assailing his mind as he shuffled on to his destination.
His body was sore and aching by the time he found the vent directly above Captain Ferrata's office. Through the wide, thin grille he saw the turian ambling slowly around his office, reading from a datapad. The yellow paint was stark on his grey mandibles as he spoke to someone, his gruff voice making its way into Lang's ears, though it was quiet and sporadic.
'No, I can't guarantee that. It's risky enough as it is. He's secure, I just need more time to tie up everything at this end.'
Lang didn't dare speak, though he ached to ask Lina if she was hearing any of this. He forced himself to just listen.
'Yes, I know that. I've done everything I can. More than everything. By the time they break that encryption I need to be long gone. Remember what you promised. You owe me big.'
The captain's words were definitely suspicious, even if they lacked definitive context. What was conclusive, however, were the OSDs Ferrata produced from a compartment in his armour.
'Yeah, they're here. I just need to wipe the terminal and every-' He paused as his comm unit beeped. 'One moment, I've got another call. Captain Ferrata speaking. What? I'm busy right now, can't you- No, fine, so long as it doesn't take too long. I'll be down in a minute.'
Ferrata pocketed the OSDs and stormed out of the office. Lang inhaled sharply when Lina spoke through his earpiece.
'All right, you've got a few minutes. Get out of there and upload Mantius to his terminal, then exit through the door.'
The vent grille was mounted on a sturdy hinge so it could slide easily aside, but it was stiff from many years of dust buildup and Lang strained to move it.
'Looks like Captain Ferrata's got the discs,' he grunted. 'He took them with him when he left. Shouldn't we arrest him or something?'
'There's still time for that. Right now, we need to see what we can get from his terminal before he can wipe it clean. It sounds like he's planning to make a run for it, so hurry. We've got him on his way to the main lobby to deal with a minor paperwork issue but it won't keep him occupied for long.'
The grille finally slid aside grudgingly and Lang almost fell headfirst out of the vent as he slid through the opening. He looked himself over miserably as he rose to his feet. His uniform was covered in greasy black dirt and he didn't look forward to having to wash it. Standing on his toes, he pulled the grille back into position and set to work, bringing up his omni-tool and connecting it to Ferrata's terminal.
His heart pounded furiously in his chest, and it wasn't just from the physical exertion. Again, he felt the heady thrill of being in his own spy vid bleed away into hard reality. The risks he was taking were numerous and their consequences severe. Still, he could console himself with the knowledge that what he was doing was right. A prominent officer in C-Sec was actively sabotaging an investigation, one that could prevent the deaths of millions of innocent people. If Lang hadn't signed up to C-Sec to put people like that away, he was in the wrong job.
The terminal let out a cacophony of soft noises, causing Lang to swivel his head so quickly it made his neck creak. It seemed far too loud for that small office and he was certain Ferrata could hear it even from the lobby.
'Upload started,' he whispered.
'Okay,' Lina confirmed. 'We're getting a live feed. Keelah, this doesn't look good. He's already gone through his files with a fine toothed comb.'
Lang frowned. 'I uh…know this isn't the time but…do you guys even know what that is?'
'What?'
'A comb. I mean, do quarians usually…'
Lina sighed irritably. 'You're right.'
'About what?'
'This really isn't the time,' she said sharply.
'Sorry, Commander,' Lang mumbled, embarrassed. He tapped his foot impatiently. 'Is it nearly done? It's not clear from this end.'
'Just another minute. Hold on a little bit longer.'
Lang gasped as something cold and hard touched the back of his neck. He felt a hand slowly reach up and pull the earpiece from his head, followed by a harsh crack as it was ground under a heavy armoured boot. He panted gently through open lips, fear holding him utterly still.
'I thought I smelled a rat in the ducts,' Captain Ferrata murmured quietly, 'but you're not a duct rat. Hands up, slowly.'
Lang obeyed. His right hand jerked as Ferrata removed his omni-tool ring, the device sputtering out as the connection was lost.
'Look, Captain,' Lang said shakily. Sweat began to appear in glistening beads on his forehead. 'We know what you're up to. You should turn yourself in now before things get any worse.'
He wasn't prepared for the blow to the back of his head. The pistol cracked against his skull, knocking him to the floor. He felt the cool touch of blood trickling from a cut on his scalp. Ferrata immediately gripped his shirt collar, dragging Lang upright as the pistol was jammed against his temple.
'No,' the turian snarled, 'I think the only one for whom things will get worse is you, if you don't do as I say. Come on, we're going to take a little walk.'
As he staggered to his feet, Lang managed a few slurred words. 'Where are you taking me?'
'Out of here, to start with. Then we'll figure out what to do with you.'
Terror now gripped Lang, though his body was weak and mired in pain. His worst fears were realised as Ferrata slapped on a pair of handcuffs and jerked his head back with a pull on his hair.
'Get moving.'
~~~ME-I2~~~
Omega's main spaceport hadn't changed since Arlen's last visit a year before, but there was no sense of nostalgia as he stepped out onto the dock. As before, the vast bay was packed with the ships of more than a dozen species and organisations, from corporate yachts to the more threatening batarian frigates. Crews streamed back and forth, talking, swearing or sharing raucous jokes that all blended into a heavy pall of voices that clashed with the constant whine of engines. The smell was something Arlen hadn't missed. The place still reeked of a combination of exhaust fumes and sewage, hot currents blown from giant fans set into the ceiling. It made Arlen's nostrils narrow in disgust but Zwei took a deep draught of it as he stepped out of the shuttle.
'Ah,' he breathed, stretching out his arms. 'Can't beat that pissy Omega air. This your first time here, Ricky?'
'Only stopped here once or twice on business,' Arlen replied sullenly. He hadn't felt much like talking after what had happened with Agent Cannis and it was taking all his strength to hide the fact from his hosts.
Zwei nodded. 'I know a place where you can get your head down for the time being, while we get you checked out. If you're still interested, that is?'
He looked at Arlen wryly. Arlen gave him a brief glance before grunting, 'Got nowhere else to be. Ain't got the credits to get back to the Traverse.'
'We've got some business off-station, once we've gotten out of these rags and had a few drinks. You know that club, Afterlife?'
Facts began to filter in from Arlen's memory, pulled from a brief conversation the last time he was there.
'Afterlife? That's the place run by that asari, right?' he asked. 'What was her name again?'
Zwei laughed. 'If you need to know that, then you'd be meeting her. And you don't wanna meet her unless you've got business with her. If you don't, then it's because she's going to kill you.'
Arlen frowned, but said nothing further. The last of the gang climbed wearily out of the shuttle. They all painted a grim picture in their filthy, blood-stained prison jumpsuits. That they'd made the trip straight to Omega after a prison break without being accosted on their arrival said everything that needed to be said about the place.
'Gozu District,' Zwei told Arlen. 'There's a shitty bar around the corner from the clinic, not far in, your place is next door. It's called Ezahn Heights, tell the guy there I sent ya. Get a car there and meet us in Afterlife in about two hours. Should be more than enough time to get yourself sorted out.'
Naraya clasped her lover around the waist as the gang began to disperse, their movements groggy. Her angular cheeks tilted up at Arlen. 'You sure you wanna bring him along?'
'I think he's got some use left,' Zwei responded with a knowing grin. He leaned in to let his lips grace the skin of Naraya's neck. 'If this other business goes pear-shaped, we'll need an extra gun on hand.'
Arlen kept his expression neutral while turning over Zwei's words in his thoughts. Was this "other business" the off-station job he mentioned, or was it the T-Seven? Though he had little energy left, he still remembered what he was there to do.
'Okay then,' he said with a nod. 'I'll see you later, at Afterlife.'
'Don't oversleep, Ricky-boy,' Zwei called out, his tone too harsh and malevolent to be called pleasant.
Arlen trudged on without reply. He seemed to float through the spaceport crowd, through the terminal and to the sky car ranks he recalled from his previous visit. Again, the sheer diversity of Omega struck him. All around were more species than would ever be found in the Citadel, with vorcha, krogan and batarians complimenting the Council races in vast numbers. Nearly everyone appeared to be armed, a sight that would've given any C-Sec customs agent an aneurysm after the geth attack.
Whereas last time the Blue Suns controlled the port, order was now kept by a different merc group with faded yellow armour emblazoned with a twisted black sun emblem. Arlen vaguely recognised the logo but couldn't recall the name of the organisation. It didn't matter. It was proving difficult enough to remember his own name as he slid into an open taxi shuttle.
'Ezahn Heights, Gozu District,' he told the onboard VI and the shuttle responded immediately, closing the door and lifting steadily into the air. The momentum made Arlen's head swim a little and he closed his eyes. He would've been happy enough to sleep in the car but the promise of a clean bed without the relentless wailing of the incarcerated bleeding through the walls was enough to keep him conscious for a bit longer.
The shuttle soared at an unhurried pace through the Omega sky. Arlen stared out of the window at the grimy scenery, realising how much he'd wished not to see the cavernous vista again. The spires and rusted metal stalactites edging into the air, each an industrial plant belching steam and smoke, the squat cylindrical residential blocks, they were all like nothing Arlen had seen elsewhere in the galaxy. Knowing what they all contained, he could only be grateful for that.
The taxi dipped into a relatively calm patch of neon-lit street, thick with dirt and soot from the chimney stacks of neighbouring districts. A steady flow of citizens walked past, none giving Arlen a second look as he climbed out of the shuttle with a pained wince. The surrounding buildings all looked the same; in fact, there was little to indicate them as structures in the usual sense. They were just a single unbroken line of brown metallic walls, without windows and only a few doors to break the illusion of a single flat surface.
Arlen made his way to the nearest one, next to which a holographic Ezahn Heights sign flickered weakly. It opened to reveal a small but surprisingly clean reception area decorated with a few green tropical plants. The batarian landlord stood behind a counter idly keying something into his terminal.
'If you're coming in, come in,' he barked without looking up. 'You're letting the heat out.'
There was virtually no difference in the temperature between inside and out that Arlen could discern, but he didn't argue. He did as the man asked and approached the counter.
'Zwei sent me.'
Again, the batarian spoke without looking up from his terminal. 'Third floor, apartment thirty-two A. It's yours for the next week. After that, your tab runs out and you cough up the credits if you wanna stay longer. You kill anyone, hassle my other guests or crap on the sheets and you're out. Now hold out your hand and I'll register your ID on the system.'
Arlen held out his hand and the landlord scanned it with an omni-tool.
'Okay, you're good. Remember, third floor, thirty-two A. Elevator's out so you'll have to take the stairs.'
To Arlen, the idea of scaling three flights of stairs in his condition was only ameliorated by the experience of a four-eyed being conducting an entire conversation without looking at him once. He smirked, shrugging as he went on his way.
When he finally reached his apartment door he almost collapsed against it. The lock acknowledged his fingerprint ID with a quiet chime and the door opened to reveal a room much like the reception area - clean, functional and small. It was an open apartment, with a large bed and table already set up with an extranet terminal on one side, a living area and kitchen on the other and a bathroom door at the back. The bedroom was backed with a long window that took up the entire wall, a sweeping view of Omega's skyline that Arlen knew he wouldn't be gazing at often.
He entered and locked the door behind him, immediately making his way to the bed. He sat down with a heavy thump and brought up his omni-tool.
'Are we clear?' he asked.
'Not detecting any bugs or other surveillance gizmos,' Petra replied. 'Apart from the ones you're carrying, anyway.'
His head drooping with fatigue, Arlen glanced at the extranet terminal. 'You think it's safe to transfer you?'
'Oh please!' the AI chided softly. 'I think if there's any scamming software or spyware on there, I might just be one step ahead of it.'
A trace of a smile curled Arlen's upper lip. 'Yeah, I know. After what you managed to pull back on Purgatory, if anyone deserves to stretch their legs, it's you.' He leaned forward, hunching over to rest his arms on his knees as Petra moved herself over to the terminal. 'You know, it's funny. I took all those pills back on the Citadel, never thinking they made a difference. Now I'd give anything to have just one of those bottles.'
It was no exaggeration. His body felt weak to the point of failure, with pains all over the likes of which he'd never felt before, in places he'd forgotten existed. The worst was in his head. The dull, pulsing throb that came with extreme exhaustion was now permanently entangled with that torturous web spreading from his severed mandible. It was oddly curious that he never knew how interconnected everything in his face was until then, with spikes of pain erupting in his left brow plate at the same time as the right side of his jaw.
The terminal opened and Petra's digitised asari face appeared on the display. There was a worried edge to her warm grin. 'There's a clinic around the corner and it won't take me long to hook you up to the account JSTF set up, there's plenty of credits in there to get what you need.'
Arlen shook his head. 'It's okay. I need to be out of here in a couple of hours, I can't risk getting doped up. I'll just take a rest and a shower, that should be enough.'
'All right, I can set things up here. It'll take me some time to find a way through the comm buoys to get a secure connection to Lina anyway. I'll also look for somewhere nearby where you can pick up some clean clothes.'
'I'm not sure if I can sleep.'
Arlen hung his head, his eyes fixed on his hands. His fingers twitched as his vision grew blurred and watery.
'I killed him.'
Petra looked at him sorrowfully. 'If you didn't shoot, you'd both be dead. There would be two dead agents instead of one and we'd have much less chance of finding the T-Seven. You didn't have a choice.'
Arlen's voice cracked, 'I did. I could've done something, I could've taken one of them hostage, I could've shot them, I could've fought them off. Why? Why didn't I do something, anything else?'
'It wouldn't have worked,' Petra said as evenly as she could. 'They were watching you, one wrong move and they wouldn't have hesitated to kill you. Agent Cannis knew it too. He wouldn't have blamed you for pulling the trigger.'
His hands now reaching up to cover his face, Arlen's words were an agonised groan. 'I looked into his eyes. He was scared. He trusted me and I killed him. I killed him.'
'Zwei killed him!' Petra shouted. 'Him and that sick gang of his! They forced you to do it! Arlen, you can't blame yourself. You have to focus! They're the bad guys, not you! You can't let them win or Agent Cannis will have died for nothing!'
Her pleading reached through the depths of Arlen's misery. He nodded slowly behind his hands and he looked up to the ceiling, gasping in grief.
'We will weep for him,' Petra said softly, 'but it can't be now. For the time being, Agent Cannis has to be just another Blue Sun, one that Riko Pavek killed. If you can't remember that, if you can't carry on with the mission then for all we know, everyone will soon be dead. We need to do this for everyone on the Citadel. Lina's counting on us.'
Sniffing, Arlen gave another heavy nod. He sank back slowly, turning his head to the side so his fringe didn't catch on the bed. He laid there motionless, his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. He didn't know when sleep took him, only that Maro Cannis had joined the growing ranks of faces that would haunt him when it finally did.
~~~ME-I2~~~
'Damn it, Lang's gone dark,' Lina yelled, frustration and anxiety finally getting the better of her as she slammed a hand on Kim's desk, toppling several of the human's ornaments and keepsakes. 'Kim, do we have any eyes or ears in Ferrata's office?'
'Only the Citadel's passive atmospheric sensors,' Kim answered as she typed frantically at her terminal. 'I'm seeing two life forms, that'll be Eddie and Ferrata. Damn, they're moving. They're exiting the office. If they get into a populated area, tracking them will be impossible. I can't differentiate between organic readings.'
'Bosh'tet,' Lina swore. 'Okay, Ferrata knows we're onto him. He doesn't want to arrest Lang, that'll shine a light on everything he's been up to.'
'You think he's taking Eddie somewhere quiet?' Kim asked worriedly. 'To take him out, maybe?'
'That would be my first move. If he's going to make a run for it, he'll need to kill or incapacitate Lang first. We can't let that happen. We need someone up there to intercept. In the meantime, do everything you can to stall them.'
Lorica spoke up, stepping over from Deveraux's station. 'I'll go. I'm partly responsible for getting Eddie into this mess, and I'm handy with my biotics. If you can buy me time, I'll move in on Ferrata and get Eddie the hell out of there.'
Kim looked back over her shoulder at the asari, her face a picture of fear. 'Ferrata's dangerous, you can't go! Look, we can get a field agent on the scene-'
'Not quickly enough,' Lorica interrupted. Her eyes locked with Lina's. 'Kim, get a pistol checked out in advance, I'll head to the armoury now, but…' Hesitating, her gaze slid to the side, almost guiltily. '...Lina, we need to talk. Come on, I'll explain on the way.'
Behind her visor, Lina gave a look of confusion but she didn't stop to ask. She launched into a brisk walk as she followed Lorica.
'What's this all about?'
Lorica frowned, a clear look of concern. 'Mike just forwarded me Arlen's report. We…we might have a problem.'
Lina almost came to a halt as terror gripped her, and she had to force herself to keep up. 'What happened?'
'Agent Cannis is dead. He was shot during the escape.'
Lina inhaled sharply. 'Keelah, that's not good news. As if things could get any worse.'
'Yeah, well, brace yourself,' Lorica warned as her path took her off the command centre's bottom tier and through a side door deeper into the complex. She took a deep breath before speaking again.
'Arlen was the one who killed him.'
Lina gasped. 'What? But…but how?'
Lorica shook her head. 'It was a mess. Jaeger's gang captured Cannis alive and they forced Arlen to execute him, probably to test him.'
The chill that ran through Lina's blood brought a heaviness to her breath, sending her mouth lamp into a frenzy. 'We assumed when Arlen was sent to Purgatory that no one knew his identity. If Ferrata leaked any kind of information to Zwei on who's been investigating him, then he could've made Arlen from the beginning and forced him to kill Cannis out of twisted spite alone. Keelah, if Arlen's cover was already blown-'
'We don't know anything yet,' Lorica assured her, though it was a frail consolation, 'but the fact that he's still alive is encouraging, right?'
They passed through a door into the armoury. It was a small room, nowhere near the size of those spread throughout C-Sec's main stations but it had a good selection of rifles, pistols and shotguns laid in racks behind a glass-fronted counter. A turian officer had a pistol waiting and he slid it out immediately on seeing Lorica enter.
She continued as she checked the weapon over. 'Frankly, I'm more worried about what's going to happen once Arlen gets back. You know the rules. The circumstances don't matter. I hate to say it but he's guilty of murdering a C-Sec agent. Pallin's not going to let it slide. Arlen's looking at prison if this gets out.'
Lina's decision was instant. Her voice hardened. 'He's not going to find out. Not until this situation is resolved, at least.'
A look of horror crossed over Lorica's features and she fumbled to get her pistol into its holster.
'You can't be serious!' she hissed, casting a cautious glance to the other officer, who was mercifully busying himself with cleaning a rifle and didn't seem to have heard them. She tilted her head in the direction of the door and led the way out, speaking again only when no one was within earshot.
'Lina, I know Arlen is your friend but we're already operating outside legal channels here. We hacked into Patrol and Network's systems, we stole evidence from a crime scene, we-'
'Did exactly what we needed to!' Lina cut in furiously. 'If we hadn't done any of that, we wouldn't have even been aware of the T-Seven, let alone discovered Ferrata's involvement. Arlen went out there and he's risking his life, not because he wants to but because he has to.' She pressed a finger into Lorica's chest forcefully. 'I will not let him go through all of this just to be thrown away once he's done, if he's even still alive by the end. Is that clear?'
Lorica glared at her commander, her face like stone. She could see there would be no argument, but her reluctance shone through in her eyes. Finally, she stepped away and left Lina behind.
'I'll be in touch through Kim,' she called out. Pausing, she briefly glanced over her shoulder. 'I suggest you take a step back and let us handle things. We need you focused on the bigger picture, not getting emotionally involved in everything happening on the ground. Now excuse me, but I've got an officer to rescue.'
Lina could do little but gaze at Lorica's back. She knew her friend was right and a part of the quarian burned with shame at having spoken to her that way. This was fast becoming a nightmare that harkened back to a little over a year before, where every hour brought with it new implications and crises within crises. It was a time Lina had never wanted to revisit.
She touched a hand to her stomach. The bullet wound was still there, a knotted scar under her suit, but the pain was still all too real. With the same heavy despair that had stalked her back then, she made her way back to the command centre to await Lorica's contact.
~~~ME-I2~~~
The barrel of Captain Ferrata's pistol dug into the base of Lang's spine. It was neatly concealed as they walked, with the few passing officers they encountered so distracted by Lang's filthy appearance that they didn't notice how oddly Ferrata was moving. As it happened, they didn't need to travel very far at all.
Ferrata forced a halt in front of the elevator and murmured, 'Garage. Floor seventeen.'
Lang pushed the corresponding button with a shaking finger. He moistened his lips. 'You're not going to get away with this, you know that, right?'
Smirking, Ferrata needled his pistol even harder into Lang's back. 'I think my chances are a hell of a lot better than yours, kid.'
'How do you figure?' Lang asked. It felt important that he kept his captor talking. 'JSTF knows you're working for the batarians. They've got all the tools and the skills to track you down wherever you go. If you kill me, that's just another twenty years they need to add to however long they'll put you away for when they catch you.'
'Assuming they catch me,' Ferrata breathed into his ear. 'I've been ready for this for a long time, boy. You don't get to where I am without having all your bases covered.'
'Not covered well enough to stop them tracking you down in the first place.' Lang felt the pressure on his spine ease slightly. He knew Ferrata couldn't gun him down in the middle of the station, though he didn't want to make the man desperate either. 'I'm sure they can offer you some sort of deal if you turn yourself in, give them the intel they want on Crimson Fist. It's them JSTF is after, not you.'
The elevator arrived and barely had the doors scraped open before Ferrata pushed Lang inside and hammered the button for the seventeenth floor. He kept his weapon trained on Lang, his aim and expression unwavering.
'You refer to JSTF as "them", "they",' the turian remarked calmly. 'You're not with the Task Force, are you?' He grinned when Lang didn't answer. 'How the hell did those spooks rope you into doing their dirty work? A young guy like you, his whole career ahead of him, nothing but a patsy to be used up and spat out.'
Lang couldn't stop the anger from seething out in his response. 'You wouldn't understand. You sold out your own people and put the entire Citadel in danger. You're nothing but a traitor.'
'Oh, I understand,' Ferrata replied in a tone of malevolent satisfaction. 'I saw how they broke that Kryik boy.'
Lang blinked. 'Arlen? How do you-'
'I'm his captain, you fool,' Ferrata snorted. 'His direct superior. I saw firsthand what happens to the young agents they "requisition". As if a mad father, a dead mother, a murdered lover and a brother he can't even mourn weren't bad enough. No support from JSTF, not even a medal. It's all classified, which means he can't even talk about what he went through with medical specialists. That is what working for them means. If anything, shooting you will be doing you a favour.'
Lang said nothing. Whatever romance being a Task Force agent had was already a distant memory. Hearing Ferrata's dour assessment of Arlen shouldn't have been a surprise, but there had been a genuine note of regret in the captain's voice as he gave it.
As the stench of old machine grease and dust filled the tiny space, Lang could do little but try and rationalise his presence there. Had Arlen been the same? Someone caught up in these events by chance, his fate out of his own hands? Lang wasn't even sure at what point in the last twenty-hour hours he'd made a conscious decision.
His thoughts were interrupted as the elevator came to a jarring stop. Ferrata's head twitched as he looked up and around, puzzled. The lights went out, momentarily plunging them into darkness before a dull red emergency light snapped on.
'The hell?' Ferrata grumbled.
Lang was still very much aware of the pistol pointed at his chest. He spoke slowly. 'I thought power outages were pretty much restricted to Tayseri after the geth attack.'
'They are,' Ferrata replied. His eyes were wide and savage as they turned to Lang. 'Don't you dare try anything, boy. Don't you dare.'
Not even if I wanted to, Lang thought miserably. He could do nothing more but wait, trapped in the elevator with an increasingly diminishing hope of getting out of there alive.
~~~ME-I2~~~
The Investigation headquarters lobby was in a state of mass confusion when Lorica arrived. The large hall was barely lit by the strips of emergency lights running up the walls and many officers were using their omni-tool flashlights to find their way around.
The swell of concerned voices made it difficult to think clearly. It had been a while since Lorica last visited the area but it was still somewhat familiar to her and she took a sharp right, taking the corridor that led to the secondary elevators.
She reached up to adjust her earpiece and spoke quietly. 'It's chaos here, should make moving around unnoticed a little easier. Where's Ferrata now?'
'Still in the elevator,' Lina responded. 'He's not going anywhere for now but you'll need to hurry, Kim could only trip the circuit breakers from here, nothing permanent. It won't be long before someone restores power. There's a stairwell running alongside the elevator shafts, when you reach the elevators take the third door along.'
Lorica walked as briskly as she could without breaking into a run. The Striker pistol slapped against her thigh, a strange weight on her hip. She'd hurriedly changed out of her dress and into a set of C-Sec fatigues on the shuttle journey over and though she was glad of the extra mobility, she now cursed herself for parking in the main lot outside the precinct and not in the upper garage. It would've made her chances of intercepting Ferrata much more favourable, and certainly cut down the number of stairs she had to climb.
There was no time for regret as she found the door Lina mentioned. Without power, she had to find the emergency releases, two concealed handles on the outer edge of the door itself. The second handle was stiff and the asari bared her teeth as she hauled it aside with a grunt. With a hiss, the door parted and Lorica was through before it had fully opened.
The narrow stairwell clattered with her heavy footsteps as she ascended, taking the stairs two at a time. Though she'd always taken care of herself in terms of fitness, it didn't take long for her breathing to grow laboured.
'What floor did they stop on?' she panted.
'Fourteen. Keystroke readouts for the elevator show he's heading for the garage on the seventeenth floor.'
'Damn it.'
'What's wrong?'
Lorica grimaced, not entirely from exertion. 'I was just kicking myself for not parking up there to begin with.'
'You wouldn't have been able to get in. The garage lies well above the Ward's atmospheric seals. When the power went out, the emergency shutters went down over the bays to stop the garage venting into space as the mass effect fields failed.'
Lorica grinned sarcastically. 'Still wouldn't have had to climb all these damn stairs.'
Her skin shimmered gently as a sky-blue film appearing over her exposed arms and head. It wasn't perspiration. She'd always considered herself a skilled biotic, hardly a Commando but she had enough control to lower her own body mass, allowing her to skip up the stairs with far less effort. She had to count the floors as she went up. Usually they were marked by holographic signs but without power, their projectors were blank.
She came to a stop as a low hum rumbled through the walls. Moments later, the stairwell was illuminated in sterile white light.
'Damn it,' she cursed into her earpiece. 'Is the elevator moving again?'
'Yes, slowly but they're definitely on the way up. How far up are you?'
The hologram in front of Lorica flickered on, showing a bright blue 13.
'Almost there. I'm going silent, I want to try and trail them without being seen.'
'All right. Don't take any unnecessary risks. We can't afford to lose two agents.'
Lorica didn't respond. Instead she continued her dogged ascent, sweat now running from her forehead down her cheeks. By the time she reached the seventeenth floor, her lungs were drawing air in burning heaves but she knew she didn't have time to catch her breath.
Lina didn't need to be prompted for an update. 'They're nearly at the garage. Turn right out of the stairwell and keep going straight. If they leave, we're going to lose them.'
Lorica had no choice but to throw caution to the wind. She exited the stairwell in a run and her pistol snapped into its firing position with a series of whirs and clicks as she drew it. The corridors were empty as she passed through one door, then another, with no sign of Ferrata or Lang.
The last door opened into a wide garage filled with rows of inactive patrol cars, and it was then she heard the scuffling of feet and hushed voices echoing against the bare walls. Lorica sprinted forward, now completely uncaring of whether Ferrata heard her or not. He was close to escaping and she needed to at least hold him in one place.
Her heart beat furiously and she gnashed her teeth in frustration as a shuttle door slammed shut somewhere ahead. She slunk to the side, holding her pistol out in preparation, but it came down again as a nearby car lifted from the ground and with a pitched whine, started to accelerate towards the shifting blue atmospheric barrier that stretched across the far wall.
Lorica swore loudly, taking aim and lowering it again as she judged her odds of disabling the vehicle - odds that weren't good enough.
She narrowed her eyes at the shuttle before it could get too far away and shouted, 'Lina, he's on the move. Patrol car registration eight-nine-nine-two-dash-seven-one. Get Kim on the transponder signal, I'm gonna follow in another car.'
'She's tracking them now. Get moving and we'll direct you once you're in the air.'
~~~ME-I2~~~
The morning had worn on Ambassador Ciro Tessarius' nerves greatly. Usually a difficult meeting would have been forgotten in minutes, dismissed as quickly as an itch behind his crest. If the old turian hadn't grown used to discarding those unpleasant experiences so readily, the world of politics would have driven him insane long ago.
It disturbed him, then, that his earlier argument with Admiral Kaion still played on his mind. Even as he passed through the Presidium, taking a long detour through the lakeside park adjoining the embassies to clear his head, it was doing little good. The graceful, black-highlighted curves of his brown fringe shone as he lifted his head to take in air made sweet by the trees and flowers lining the walkway. The walk was usually a last resort, and would normally succeed where a few cups of hot tea failed, but not this time.
Annoyed, Ciro came to a stop and leaned on the railing that ringed the lake. Nearby to his right was the enormous krogan statue that marked the memorial to the fallen of the Rachni Wars. Carved out of a single piece of green-veined stone to the height of three men, it towered over passersby with all the dominance of those it represented.
Ciro grunted. Perhaps in another existence, another universe, the turians and krogan would have found much to admire in one another. Admiral Kaion seemed to respect only strength, and no doubt the battle-hungry krogan would have lent their support to his plans to make war on the Terminus Systems.
The thought only depressed Ciro further. Whichever way he looked, he saw only war and death, the devourer of the young.
He shook his head before he could slip into melancholy. He had business to attend to that day, and couldn't afford to let his mood show to anyone who could take advantage of it. With that in mind, he clutched the datapad he was carrying a little closer to his body; the latest proposals in the Silean Nebula negotiations. Ambassador Novari had been oddly reticent, avoiding his comm requests over the past day. It was poor protocol, and despite her hard nature, Novari wasn't one to allow others the pleasure of picking apart her manners. She could not ignore a datapad delivered personally to her desk, however.
Ciro sighed as he lifted himself from the railing. He forced out all thoughts of war and politics for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before continuing on.
By the time he reached the asari embassy, he'd calmed down somewhat. The exquisite works of art that greeted him helped a great deal. The corridor outside Novari's office was filled with many different kinds of paintings and sculptures, all sweeping curves meant to draw the eye from the hard lines of their surroundings.
At the end of the corridor, Crio could see the office's door panel was red. It was locked, which meant Novari was not present. However, behind a small desk next to the door sat her assistant, her slender fingers tapping away at her terminal.
Eris, Ciro recalled. For the first time that day, he smiled with genuine pleasure.
Eris looked up as he approached and immediately, her look of quiet concentration lit up with a grin to match his own. It struck Ciro how young she looked, even for an asari maiden.
'A-Ambassador Tessarius,' she stammered, 'it's good to see you again. How can I help?'
Her nervousness was still present, something Ciro found intriguing and amusing in equal measure. He wasn't used to seeing it in his line of work.
'I just stopped by to drop something off with your mistress,' he said warmly. His eyes held hers and he shrugged helplessly. That was something he hadn't done before, and he found himself growing a little anxious at the realisation. 'I'm sorry, I should have called ahead.'
Eris blinked in surprise. 'I-It's perfectly fine, Ambassador. You can leave anything you have with me, I'll ensure Miss Novari gets it as soon as she returns.'
'Assuming she's thawed out by then,' Ciro joked. He winced slightly at the sound of it, again, not a remark he usually would have let slip.
To his relief, Eris giggled. 'That's not really for me to say, Ambassador,' she said, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. 'I-I don't really make a habit of poking fun at my mistress.'
Ciro dipped his head guiltily. 'Of course not, I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. It was funny.'
Looking at her again, Ciro smiled once more before clearing his throat. 'I assume you haven't been working for the embassy long, or I would've seen you before our first meeting. I hope it wouldn't be too forward of me to ask how you're doing? This can be a demanding place to work for anyone, let alone someone fresh to the Citadel.'
Eris waved a hand. 'Oh, this is okay. It's interesting work and it's great to meet new people of so many different species. I just…'
This time it was her turn to look away and Ciro couldn't help but guess at her thoughts.
'You just wish Ambassador Novari was easier to work for?'
Eris nodded, though it seemed like she wasn't really aware of it.
'I think I'm a good worker,' she mumbled. 'I try hard, I work beyond my hours, I'm a quick learner. But Miss Novari just doesn't seem to like me very much and I don't really know why.'
Ciro grunted softly. 'She is a harsh woman, but it makes her very good at her job. I've seen it before, some people have a difficult time switching off that side of themselves around others. I always try to keep that in mind. Sometimes part of dealing with people is having the patience to know their behaviour isn't always entirely their fault.''
Eris' eyes locked with his again, shimmering with interest. 'I bet you've seen just about everything there is to see, a man of your experience. Maybe sometime you can give me a few-'
She hesitated, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands bashfully.
'I-I'm sorry,' she laughed from behind her fingers, 'I must sound like a complete fool. This is exactly what Miss Novari is always talking about.' She uncovered her eyes, her lips still quirked in a timid grin. 'I just…I've always wanted to become a diplomat, travelling the galaxy and working for the betterment of the galactic community. I just didn't realise there was so much…'
'To it?'
Eris nodded and Ciro shook his head more bitterly than he'd intended.
'That's a very polite way of putting it,' he grumbled. 'I won't share my thoughts, it wouldn't do to pollute such a young and vibrant mind with my dry old cynicism. But I know what you mean, and I too try to keep that noble goal in mind. We are a community, as you say, no matter how much some try to deny it.'
He remembered his earlier exchange with Kaion and spoke again almost as a reflex action. 'I see it as my duty to ensure the galaxy is a place where the children of my people know peace first and war last. Battle is something we turians never shy away from but it must be a means of protection, not aggression. That is our job, yours and mine, above all else - to protect peace for the sake of all.'
Eris gave him a look of real admiration. 'I couldn't have put it better myself.'
Ciro finally recalled his reason for being there. He fumbled slightly with his datapad as he handed it over.
'Were you about to ask me something just now?' he queried. 'You trailed off a little back there.'
Embarrassed, Eris shuffled in her seat. 'Oh, it's nothing, please forget I said anything.'
'No, please,' Ciro pressed gently. 'You can ask anything of me. I'm here to help, and I get the impression you haven't heard those words a great deal since coming to the Citadel.'
Once again, Eris smiled with an innocence that Ciro found extraordinarily endearing. 'Well, it's just that you seem so knowledgeable. I mean, you're obviously knowledgeable, but you're also one of the nicest people I've met since coming here. I was just wondering if maybe you can give me some pointers, any advice from a diplomat of your standing would be…I just can't express how much it would mean to me.'
As she gazed into his eyes, her youthful features filled with the kind of optimism that Ciro had almost forgotten still existed in the galaxy, he knew he couldn't deny her.
He bowed his head courteously. 'It would be my honour, Miss Eris.'
'It's just Eris,' she corrected. 'Well, Eris Severya. But please just call me Eris, Ambassador.'
The turian replied with a smooth, deep, 'Please, no more of this "ambassador" nonsense. It's just Ciro to you.'
Impulsively, Eris thrust out an eager hand, giggling when Ciro took it and bowed deeply, a self-mocking show of exaggerated gentlemanliness. He knew his age was a moot point for an asari, but he took great delight in poking a little fun at himself for it.
'I would consider it my privilege if you would join me for dinner tonight,' he said. 'You can ask me anything you wish and I'll happily impart anything useful my experience can offer. About the job, obviously. I will ensure your position here isn't compromised in any way.'
'Oh, of course,' Eris replied impishly. 'Totally professional.'
Ciro straightened. He continued to hold Eris' gaze, his mandibles pulsing slightly as he tried to decipher her response. She cocked an eyebrow, almost daring him to understand…or misunderstand? He chose to quit while he was ahead in whatever game was being played, joyful as it was.
'Come by my office after you're done tonight, if you wish,' he said. 'I will be there until nightfall.'
'I'll do that.'
As Ciro departed he felt strangely excited, a feeling he hadn't experienced for a very long time. It was something he tried to bury deep into the recesses of his heart. He knew full well that their meeting was to be an informal tutoring, nothing more, but the truth was that he'd enjoyed the last few minutes of Eris' company more than all the countless hours of politicians, generals and officials he'd been forced to endure in the last few decades. It felt only right that he should befriend someone whom he actually liked, and help the earnest young lady in the process.
On instinct, but against his better judgement, Ciro glanced back over his shoulder as he neared the exit.
Eris was still looking at him, grinning, and he flushed as she waved goodbye. He copied the gesture, almost laughing to himself at his own childishness as he made his way back to his office.
~~~ME-I2~~~
Lang's stomach heaved as the shuttle lurched from side to side, weaving through the traffic in abrupt movements that made him dizzy. The car's sirens were audible from the inside, but in the vacuum of the sky above the Wards only the flashing blue and red lights were capable of parting the dense column of civilian craft, as well as disguise Ferrata's dangerous piloting to the naked eye of any patrolling C-Sec officers.
Grimacing, Lang dared a glance at his captor. Ferrata stared ahead cooly, one hand on the shuttle's controls while the other still held the pistol that hadn't moved from Lang since his discovery.
Lang's lips twisted for a moment. 'Where are you taking me?'
There was no response. Ferrata was grim and silent, and Lang knew his life was now measured in minutes. His gut turned again as the car dove suddenly, breaking out of the traffic lane and towards the city below. Thousands of lights flickered past, the false starscape of the Wards' skyscrapers, all filled with people completely unaware of what was going on outside their windows.
Further down they went, through the gentle haze of the Ward arm's atmospheric barrier, until a wide, square rooftop loomed large in the windshield. The shuttle set down with an ugly moan as the reverse thrusters strained against the patrol car's momentum, and it hit the ground with a dull scrape.
'Out,' Ferrata ordered sternly as both pilot and passenger doors swung open.
Lang did as he was told, knowing better than to try and run. He couldn't see the roof exit, it was obscured by a mess of generators, air conditioning units, any number of systems that sustained the building they were on along with the innumerable pipes and electrical conduits that branched out from the droning units. He wouldn't have gotten more than a few feet before feeling the agony of a bullet in his back.
Resigned to his fate, Lang took in a deep breath in the few remaining seconds he had left. He gazed up at the sparkling towers around him, looking with a newfound appreciation at the twinkling expanse of the distant Tayseri Ward above his head. In that moment, he felt the same wonder and awe that had held him still when he first set eyes on the Citadel. It wasn't all that long ago, yet it felt a lifetime away.
Ferrata's footfalls drew near and the turian raised his voice against the noise of passing shuttles. 'On your knees, boy. I'll show you the mercy JSTF won't and make this quick.'
'Never figured you'd be the merciful type,' Lang said slowly, easing himself down to the ground.
Ferrata frowned and shuffled closer. 'What's that?'
'I didn't think you'd be the kind to show mercy,' Lang repeated. He was calm, accepting of his destiny in a way he never thought possible.
'You don't know a damn thing about me,' Ferrata snorted, 'or my motivations.'
'I know you're working with a terrorist group who've killed hundreds of people, who're trying to murder millions more right now as we speak. What kind of motivations justify that?'
Ferrata bared his teeth. 'That bomb was never meant to get lost in the Wards.'
Lang's eyes moved to the side, his voice curious. 'Then what was it meant for?'
Ferrata's pistol touched the back of Lang's head, and the captain spat on the ground. 'What's the point in asking? Crimson Fist are living on borrowed time as it is, now their plan has failed. Your life will end in mere moments. I'll be long gone by the time they find your corpse, nothing else matters.'
'You still think you can get away with this? You're a fugitive, you can't hide on the Citadel.'
'The universe does not begin or end on this station,' Ferrata snapped, adjusting his grip on the pistol. 'In less than thirty minutes I'll be on a transport out of here. I have friends who will make sure I'm never found again. You, however, will be found right here. So long, kid.'
Lang closed his eyes, ready for the inevitable.
It wasn't the sting of a bullet he felt, but the heat of nearby engine wash that made him open his eyes again before they instantly narrowed against the blast of heat. Another patrol car reared up over the roof's edge, its spotlight filling his vision with white. Ferrata raised a hand against it, the pistol sliding across the back of Lang's skull as he turned away.
It was the opening Lang needed. He twisted and grasped Ferrata's weapon. It bucked in his grip as it fired with a pair of ear-splitting bangs and Ferrata growled, straining against Lang as the human rose to his feet.
Lang was young, but he was also strong of build. Ferrata used his free hand to try and punch his way out, clubbing at Lang's head and neck in a fury. The spotlight receded as the shuttle landed, the roar of thrusters giving way to the grunts and shouts of the two men.
Lang felt a cool line of blood on his lips, his nose broken. Still the bull-like young man refused to relinquish his hold on the pistol.
The pressure eased suddenly. Ferrata was propelled back in a burst of biotic force and skipped across the ground like a stone. Gasping, Lang drew up the pistol and automatically moved in on the fallen turian, the weapon stretched out before him.
'Hands behind your head!' he yelled through blood-rimed teeth. 'I said hands behind your head, now!'
He couldn't bring himself to show the pleasure he so desperately felt as Lorica settled beside him, her arms folded in satisfaction.
'You know, I was kidding about the miracle thing,' she joked, nodding down at Ferrata, 'but you still managed to pull it off. You continue to impress, Eddie.'
Lang shrugged, finally allowing himself a small grin. 'I'm only glad you JSTF guys aren't all just desk jockeys. What do we do about him?'
'We cuff him and take him back to the command centre's holding cell,' Lorica replied. Her expression became hard and pitiless. 'He's our best lead on Crimson Fist and you can be damn sure we're going to get everything there is to get out of him.'
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