MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2

*Episode Three*

Molach's head snapped up at the sound of gunfire. Screams erupted around him, drowning out individual voices until there was only a mass of panic and confusion. He couldn't see a thing from his position on the casino's second floor and if curiosity alone wasn't enough to make him rise from the bar stool and take the briefcase from the counter, the sudden fear that he had been caught certainly was.

His thoughts raced and he struggled to order them. Had he been discovered? If C-Sec had come for him, why were they opening fire? A thousand questions burned in his mind but until he was certain of the answers, he could only wander through the fleeing patrons towards the winding staircase to the casino floor.

Molach scanned the area as he walked, searching for a quiet exit. He fought against dread lest it paralyse him as he took the stairs down, all four of his eyes straining for a way out. He knew something was truly wrong when a heaving crowd of people came streaming up the entrance ramp, their hands raised in hysterical surrender.

Several armed figures emerged, sporting cheap but powerful weapons. A human and two turians, followed by another human and an asari, all of them bullying their hostages into the middle of the casino floor.

'You two, upstairs!' one of the humans shouted - the leader, Molach judged. He was an odd-looking one, a young man with ice-white hair and wild eyes.

The group's female turian - a bareface with sandy coloured skin - nodded and moved immediately, sprinting up the flight of stairs to the casino's upper floor. The other human, a less distinctive man with dark hair and skin, followed her and immediately more gunfire rang out, followed by a chorus of screams.

The patrons closest to Molach ducked at the sounds, weeping, murmuring and whispering to one another. The intruders moved among them, beating those who tried to use their omni-tools and letting loose the occasional shot to keep their terrified heads down.

Molach's thoughts raced, far too quickly for him to keep up. His body felt weak and sick with horror. The briefcase was a leaden weight in his hand.

This can't be happening, he seethed inwardly. Not now, of all times!

'Don't move!' the male turian yelled at someone not far from Molach. He was tall and well-built for one of his race, his beige skin blotted with blue paint. 'I said don't move, asshole! You wanna try and be a hero? Huh? You wanna try-'

The last word came with a hideous whack as the turian drove his weapon into the stomach of an unfortunate hostage who crumpled under the blow.

The screaming began again and Molach felt his desperation grow. His thoughts turned to his precious burden and slowly, he tried to manoeuvre out of sight by slipping between the other hostages.

More of them stumbled down from the upper floor, followed closely by the female turian and Molach tensed as the asari stepped forward, loosing several rounds from her shotgun into the air.

She was a strange example of her species. Her cheeks were high and pointed, giving her a gaunt look and her gaze was cold as she shouted, 'Nobody move! Next person I see talking gets a slug in the back of their fuckin' head, got it?'

She paused to glance at the white-haired human. 'All yours.'

The asari stepped back, allowing the leader to take her place. Molach got a good look at him. He was unlike any human Molach had ever seen - lean, hard and with a light in his eyes that made Molach shift uncomfortably on his feet.

Drawing his lips back into a wicked grin that chilled Molach's blood, the human spoke.

'Evening, ladies and gents! My name is Zwei and I'll be your host for the evening! I know this is black tie and all,' he said, gesturing about the place casually with one of his Shurikens, 'but I spent my last cred on this here gun, so I'm a little underdressed. I reckon a little whip-around is in order, what do you think, guys? A little collection for the needy?'

He turned to his crew, who chuckled and nodded. The male turian growled and called over his shoulder, 'Let's just kill 'em, Zwei! Kill 'em all!'

A ripple of fear ran through the hostages, and it took a great deal of effort for Molach to keep himself from shaking.

Zwei laughed. It sounded awful, a hacking, coarse noise that seemed more a cough to Molach's ears.

'Come on now, Tuvio,' Zwei finally replied with a sad shake of his head, 'that's not the right attitude, is it? This is a posh shindig, we can't go about the place shooting hostages, tying them to Quasar machines and kicking them off walkways, that's just barbaric!'

A sinister laugh escaped the gang and Molach felt his mouth run dry. He'd heard this kind of talk before from members of his own organisation and it never led to good things.

Zwei moistened his lips as his eyes swept this casino, seemingly taking in every horrified face.

'No, this here's for charity, this is!' he continued, stepping lightly around the main floor. 'It's all for the orphans, of which yours truly is certainly one such example! That's right, all we need is your credits, ladies and gents, and you can give us all a better life! So kindly get out any omni-tools, credit chits, valuables and gold teeth you might be carrying and place them on that roulette table over there. Be quick and you might get out of this alive. More or less.'

As the hostages began to comply, the realisation hit Molach that they would find the briefcase. He bristled with the sudden, overwhelming need to get away. It gnawed at him, twisting his stomach until he thought it might burst.

For the first time, he considered simply lifting up the case and opening it, though a flicker of movement distracted him.

Molach frowned. A turian hostage had subtly distanced himself from the rest of the group, positioning them just between himself and the gang. He stood hunched over slightly, keying commands into his omni-tool with a speed that spoke of great technical competence. After just a few seconds, the turian looked up with no one the wiser.

He clapped eyes with Molach and would not let go. They stared at one another, each searching the other for something unspoken. Molach was about to turn away when his gaze lowered slightly to the turian's lower back. His suit was oddly creased in that area, pointing to a hidden weapon.

C-Sec, Molach seethed, his lips working silently for a moment. Had they been watching him all this time?

He snapped his head to the side, praying the C-Sec officer hadn't read his intentions as again, he considered unleashing the weapon Crimson Fist had worked so hard to obtain.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Arlen rapped the fingers of his left hand impatiently against his leg. The shouts of the fans were muted and soft, barely audible against the eager voices coming from the corridor outside, and yet it all annoyed him. His mandibles tensed and relaxed, his eyes passing over each of Krannt's members in turn as they went about their business.

A part of Arlen had expected something more from the VIP room of one of the galaxy's most popular bands. The stereotypical tales of groupies, flowing champagne and hard drugs were a far cry from this; a small, silent room where the exhausted musicians were content to just sit and talk quietly. After a few words of thanks, they had ignored Arlen for the most part and slumped onto the couches lining the wall.

Not that he could blame them. They looked as tired as he felt, and with a slight raise of a brow plate he watched the quarian bassist perch on the human guitarist's lap, clasping his hands in hers as they murmured to one another. Arlen turned away, suddenly uncomfortable with witnessing their intimacy. He'd almost lost patience completely when the door slid open, letting in a wave of excited noise.

Weyrloc Shuul lumbered through, laughing. He shouted something back through the open door before closing it, the smile still on his lips as his fierce krogan gaze locked on Arlen.

'Here he is!' he boomed, shattering the peace of the room. 'Our saviour, and a turian at that! By the many balls of my ancestors, I never thought I'd live to see the day I'd be thanking a turian!'

There was no bitterness in his words, and Arlen forced a small, polite grin. He took Shuul's hand when it was offered and they shook firmly.

'Just doing my job,' Arlen replied modestly.

Shuul barked out a single laugh. 'Such a turian response! You boys take all the fun out of a good fight!'

His bandmates chuckled and Arlen's reluctant smile became further strained. Shuul ambled over to one of the remaining couches and sat back, the upholstery creaking desperately under his colossal weight.

'Who was he?' Shuul asked as he took a bottle of ryncol from a nearby table and guzzled a generous portion of it in large gulps. 'The man who tried to kill me. I understand he came pretty close.'

'There was no danger, I assure you,' Arlen responded. He declined Shuul's offer of a seat next to him with a slight raise of his hand. 'Serica Ronn is a dangerous man but the situation was firmly under C-Sec's control.'

'Don't patronise me, turian,' Shuul muttered. 'C-Sec weren't the ones who fought him hand-to-hand above my very head. No, it was you and you alone. That's why I asked you to come here.'

'Yeah, about that,' Arlen began slowly. 'What's this about? I'm honoured to meet you all but as you can imagine, I still have a lot to do and time is short.'

Shuul nodded. 'I understand. I simply wanted to thank you in person and ask you a single question. That question that has still gone unanswered.'

Several moments passed in silence with Shuul's eyes fixed unflinchingly on Arlen. The Interceptor turned his head slightly, wondering just how much Shuul was authorised to know. After a while, he cleared his throat.

'Ronn is just a hireling, an enforcer,' Arlen explained. 'The real threat is a man named Zwei Jaeger, a human criminal and anarchist.'

'Hmph. After a life spent on Tuchanka, I challenge any human's perception of that term.'

'Regardless,' Arlen retorted, 'you're right. Ronn came close tonight, closer than C-Sec would admit. It might be time to go to ground, lay low. I might not be there to save you next time.'

Shuul grunted, a rough noise that turned into a quiet laugh. 'I am an outcast among my people, turian. Clan Weyrloc cast me into the endless wastes of my planet because I disagreed with my chief, a madman perhaps not all that dissimilar from the one who hunts me now.'

His voice deepened further as he stared at Arlen, his eyes filled with unspeakable fury. 'All the agonies I suffered to become shaman, the rites I carried out, the countless warriors I shepherded into manhood, none of it mattered. I was thrown away like a piece of varren fodder, the honour of my ancestors discarded.'

The story was a famous one, Arlen knew despite his own personal lack of taste for their music. It had been told through a half dozen of Krannt's songs, painted in throaty krogan rhetoric and aggressive melodies. He listened patiently, even though he ached to get away.

'I would not die,' Shuul said. 'I would not submit. I would keep the glory of my family, of the krogan, alive.' He spread his hands to take in the band. 'They are not krogan but they are my krant all the same - men and women who follow me and inspire others as I have inspired them. They are my clan now and they would no sooner run from these assassins than any warrior I face in battle. Krannt are kin.'

Arlen exhaled deeply in frustration. He answered gently. 'With respect, I wouldn't want to test that. If you've really seen war, seen death as you say, then you know no one can be trusted until they've tasted it for themselves. This isn't a game and it sure as hell isn't one of your stories. If you don't stop risking the lives of your people, then it'll be on your head if they get killed.'

Shuul drained the last of the ryncol and sat for a time, his gaze passing through Arlen and into some unspoken memory. The wide, scaly throat bulged and pulsed as he remained on the verge of a reply.

Finally, he growled, 'Then they will be true krogan.'

The simple statement lingered with no one to answer it. Arlen dipped his head, knowing there would be little good in arguing. The rest of the band listened to Shuul's words but did not interrupt, nor show any signs of disagreement with his bleak philosophy.

'Why did you want to know, then?' Arlen asked. 'Why bother asking about Zwei and Ronn if you have no intention of avoiding them?'

'I was curious,' Shuul replied with a shrug, 'and I knew only you would give me a straight answer. Call it a hunch.'

'A hunch,' Arlen repeated bitterly. He took a breath and nodded to the group. 'It was a pleasure meeting you all. Enjoy the rest of your night.'

The band's farewells were lost as Arlen made his way out. The corridor outside was filled with fans and security personnel, their voices a formless wall of noise that enveloped him immediately. Still, it had at least one use.

Satisfied no one could overhear him, Arlen brought out his omni-tool.

'Petra, it's me.'

'Arlen!' the AI shouted. 'I was worried! What took you so long?'

'Tsch...' Arlen spat, unable even to voice his irritation. 'Never mind. I need a squad car. Send one to the back entrance and I'll come pick you up.'

There was a public service terminal nearby he could use to download Petra, now that her work usurping the concert hall's systems was done. Using her in such a way always made him nervous but then, she had long proven herself beyond any security suite's efforts to purge. The Citadel was her second home and she was well used to disguising herself while wandering its unseen electronic depths.

'One squad car on the way,' she confirmed cheerily, 'and one beautiful young AI construct ready for pickup. Don't be long!'

Arlen smiled, the first genuine example of the expression he'd managed all day, perhaps even for weeks. 'With that attitude I might just throw my omni-tool out the window.'

'Mmm hmm...' Petra replied, not in the slightest bit convinced, 'and I'll give you fifteen minutes before you start scraping around the bottom of the wards trying to find me again.'

She paused, hesitation clear in her voice as she asked, 'Are you going back to HQ right away, or...?'

'No. Today is...well, today.'

'Will Captain Ferrata mind?'

'Probably,' Arlen grunted, 'but after a day like today, I just don't care. There are more important people I need to please right now.'

To anyone else the answer might have seemed cryptic but Petra needed no explanation. 'Right. I'll make sure the destination is set. You can just sit back and relax; no one deserves it more after today.'

Arlen's mind turned to the C-Sec officer, Lang, and he silently wondered if anyone had gone to uncuff the poor human.

'I don't know about that,' he said as he strode heavily down the corridor, his thoughts already moving to his next assignment.

~~~ME-I2~~~

'What do you mean he's under attack?''

The question came out more harshly than Lorica had intended but there was far more disbelief in it than anger.

The analyst, a young turian, tried his best to keep his answer calm. 'That's what the message said, Ma'am, sent over straight from Investigation. Their man followed Molach into the Silver Coast casino in Zakera but after that, nothing except that one transmission.'

Frowning, Lorica turned to Kimberley. Her desk was only a short distance away and so Lorica spoke as she walked. 'You're on this, right, guys? Read it out.'

The reply came from Ket, the salarian's tone hitching as he rushed to be the first one to talk. 'Written in basic C-Sec shorthand. Looks like he had only seconds to get the message out. Reads as follows: Target acquired. SC under attack, hostiles unknown, hostages taken. Request backup.'

'Shit,' Lorica cursed. 'If the message was forwarded from Investigation, they'll already be acting on it. Enforcement are gonna be all over this. We need to rein them all in until we've secured Molach, we can't risk him getting killed in a firefight or we'll lose our chance to track down the rest of his cell.'

'Hold on a second,' Ket said, but not to her. He leaned over his desk, as if straining to hear through his earpiece. 'What? No! I already said to wait for orders from JSTF! What do you think I meant by "chain of command", idiot! If you want to have this discussion, I suggest you take it up with the executor!'

Closing her eyes, Lorica took a moment to think. 'Too late. Goddess damn it, if Enforcement are already talking to Special Response it'll play hell with our operation. Ket, tell them to back off, now!'

Kimberley turned to them, her red ponytail swaying. 'If shots were fired in the casino, Zakera Precinct will be getting a million emergency calls right now. We could have dozens of squad cars on the way without the slightest-'

'Damn it, I know!' Ket shouted at her. His lips pressed together and he reached up to scratch the back of his leathery neck as he resumed his other conversation. 'What about "need to know" isn't getting through your thick turian skull? I don't want to hear excuses, if you value your job then make sure nobody moves on that casino until we give the green light!'

Lorica looked at Kimberley directly. 'Get on the emergency line to Special Response, Kim, make sure they're aware of the bomb threat, they have clearance. Have them commandeer the crime scene and set up a cordon and assembly point well away from the casino, and tell them under no circumstances are they or anyone else to engage any hostiles.'

'Unnecessary!' Ket fumed. 'I don't need the help of this amateur to- Yes? No, no, no! Let me tell you something. I have access to traffic cameras across the whole ward and if I see any patrol cars within a parsec of that casino I'll have your badge!'

Ignoring him, Lorica leaned closer to Kimberley. 'Keep an eye on this. If Ket can't handle it, let me know.'

'I told him,' Kim sighed, her eyes drifting aside to her salarian colleague as he started ranting anew. 'I said he'd have to tone down the asshole if he was gonna deal with the other divisions but, well...'

Lorica nodded, unsurprised. 'That's Ket, right?'

'That's Ket.'

Lorica straightened at the sound of footsteps behind them and turned to see Lina approach.

'You've heard?' the quarian asked.

'It's a damn nightmare,' Lorica muttered with a shake of her head. 'Just when we finally corner this scumbag, another scumbag marches in and holds up the place.'

'A robbery, now of all times...' Lina muttered in disbelief. 'I'd think it a coincidence if it wasn't so ridiculous.'

Lorica clasped an exasperated hand to her temples. 'I don't know what to think. It could be bad luck or it could be a targeted attack. Maybe whatever Molach was picking up, these other guys want badly enough to stage a robbery in broad daylight. All we do know is there's a damn terrorist in that casino, surrounded by civilians who can't be evacuated.'

'Keep on it as best you can. We'll let Special Response handle things on the ground for now and hopefully Investigation's man on the inside can help us draw up a plan going forward. In any case, that's not why I'm here.'

Folding her arms, Lorica raised a curious eyebrow. 'What now? Did the Council burst into flames?'

'If only it was that simple. No, I've just been invited to a briefing with the executor.'

'Do you think it's about what's going on in the casino?'

Linda shook her head. 'I've no idea. I don't think so, at least I don't think Pallin would have gotten the news just yet, let alone have a response to it. No, I think even if he did know then he wouldn't call me away from JSTF at a time like this.'

Lorica's voice lowered into a worried murmur. 'Unless it's about something worse.'

'Exactly,' Lina replied. Turning away towards the exit, she called over her shoulder, 'Keep me posted if the situation changes.'

Lorica nodded but didn't answer. With a heavy sense of trepidation she took Lina's place on the command dais and took a deep breath, preparing herself for what could possibly come next.

~~~ME-I2~~~

The blue and white pattern of the C-Sec shuttle flashed and darkened as it wove between traffic lanes, its status as a patrol craft allowing it to avoid the congestion that always occurred at that time of night in the wards.

Inside, Arlen piloted the craft with practised ease, threading it between the columns of red and white lights with subtle grace. The vast cityscape of Tayseri Ward stretched out around him, the bright void of the Serpent Nebula punctured by countless dark towers and skyscrapers. Ahead lay his destination, the Presidium ring, the great circle to which all the ward arms were joined.

Normally he would let the VI handle the flight while he shuffled through files and reports on his omni-tool but this night was different. He felt the need to engage his mind and senses, if only to distract him from where he was going.

'Are you all right?' Petra asked from within Arlen's omni-tool, sending the device into a glowing flicker with each syllable. 'No permanent damage? From what I saw it was a nasty fight.'

'They're all nasty fights,' Arlen grumbled distractedly.

'Not all,' the AI argued, unwilling to let him end the conversation so abruptly. 'Remember when you caught that slaver a few months ago? He wasn't so tough.'

Arlen took a deep, annoyed breath. His green eyes flicked between the cars ahead, scanning them automatically for gaps through which he could pass. The hum of the shuttle's drive core was a constant, nagging vibration in his chest he usually never felt but right now it was becoming unbearable.

'And there was the red sand dealer,' Petra went on, 'and those smugglers in Zakera Industrial-'

'All right, Petra,' Arlen interrupted, 'what's really bothering you?'

His omni-tool fell silent for a moment as Petra hesitated. 'Are you feeling okay? About today, I mean.'

Arlen's expression remained grim. 'You saw what happened and I told you, I'm fine.'

'No,' Petra said before softening her voice. 'I mean about today.'

Arlen knew what she meant and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

When he gave no answer, Petra pressed on. 'It's been more than a year and you've been going back every week for the last two months.'

'So?'

'And it's been six months since your brother went missing,' Petra added.

'I know that,' Arlen snapped. The sharp response brought a dead stillness to the air, one that stretched until Arlen sighed heavily, bringing up a hand to rub at his brow plates.

'I'm sorry, Petra. I know I should be handling this better but there's nothing I or anyone else can do about it.'

'It would be easier if you listened to your captain,' Petra scolded. 'He might be a jerk but he knows what he's talking about. You should do as he says and take some time off. Everybody needs some time and space to deal with these things and I can't...I won't let you run yourself into the ground over this.'

Arlen ground his teeth as all of his tension, his stress and hidden emotions threatened to surface. His knuckles blanched slightly against the shuttle's flight stick and his eyes started to sting, blurring the city outside into a hazy mass of colour. He took slow, deep breaths, fighting back against it all.

Steadying himself, he regained control of his feelings. He buried the pain into that hollow part of his stomach where it couldn't escape, like he'd done every day for the past year.

'I can't,' he finally replied, his eyes fixed on the traffic outside with fresh determination. 'Not until I get Zwei. You know I won't rest until that madman is behind bars.'

A tired sigh escaped his omni-tool. 'Okay, but promise me you'll take a vacation when this is all over. Somewhere sunny. You only ever take me to grimy crapholes.'

'All right.'

'Promise?'

Arlen laughed for the first time in a long while, weak as it was. 'Okay. I promise.'

The smile remained on his lips and he wore it gratefully, knowing it wouldn't be long until it was wiped away.

He thought for a moment before asking, 'Now that you mention it, I should probably tell the captain I'm going to be late. It'll be some time before C-Sec gets anything from Ronn so there shouldn't be an issue. I could use a rest after…this.'

'No problem,' Petra replied and a clicking noise came over Arlen's suit radio. 'Patching you through now.'

The air was filled with a low, steady beeping that was quickly interrupted by Captain Avrix Ferrata's snappy turian tones. 'What is it, Kryik? Have you left the concert hall already?'

'Just set out,' Arlen lied. He spoke as he twisted his neck, looking for a gap in the next traffic lane. 'Sir, I need to make a quick detour. I won't be long.'

Ferrata let out a long, resigned breath, as if he'd expected the request.

'Understood. I'll give you thirty minutes but no longer. We're still waiting for Ronn down here. Investigation's sending over a couple of their best interrogators but it'll be at least a few hours before they get started. I want to debrief you personally before you go anywhere, so take care of your business, then come see me before you finish your shift. Do not approach Ronn's cell under any circumstances without authorisation. Is that clear?'

'Sir, Ronn's a hardened psychopath, I don't think those interrogators will-'

'Is that clear, Agent Kryik?' Ferrata repeated sternly.

Arlen closed his eyes, frustrated. His voice betrayed nothing of it. 'Clear, Sir.'

The line disconnected with a soft crackle and Arlen narrowed his eyes at the surrounding shuttles, desperately eager for the journey to be over with.

~~~ME-I2~~~

It had been a long time since Lina had been to the Presidium.

It swept up around her in pristine, pearl-white arches before giving way to long, flat balconies housing hundreds of homes and businesses. Speckles of green vegetation littered the many walkways and bridges and through the centre, running the length of the ring was a shimmering blue lake.

It was a breathtaking sight but Lina barely afforded it a glance as she made her way into the venerable embassy suites, where representatives of every Citadel race held office.

An unpleasant shudder ran through her at the sound of amused - and even disgusted - mutterings from various politicians and dignitaries as she passed by. It was almost deemed a criminal offence for a quarian to set foot on the Presidium and she was glad of the distinctive C-Sec coloration of her exo-suit, not to mention the JSTF emblem above her left breast. No C-Sec officer would dare impede her while she wore that suit, no matter what ignorant fools whispered behind her back.

At last she reached the office of Executor Pallin and Lina waved the door aside to see the old turian standing with another of his kind, deep in conversation.

Pallin was easy enough to recognise, with the large blocks of white paint adorning a dark carapace which lightened to the colour of ash around his lower jaw.

It was the other to whom Lina's eyes were curiously drawn. He was older than most turians Lina knew, at least as old as Pallin himself. His obvious experience was etched into every line of his grey crest and face, so that his skin looked carved from stone. White markings drew sweeping lines from his nose along every outline and crevice, giving him a dignified, even venerable air.

Lina stalled at the door, a little unnerved by the stranger.

'I'm sorry, Executor,' she said quietly. 'Am I interrupting?'

Pallin broke off his conversation immediately. 'Not at all, Lina, please come in. Adrien, this is the one I was telling you about.'

The other turian stepped forward smartly, his bearing clearly that of a seasoned military officer. Lina came in to meet him and took his outstretched hand, shaking it firmly.

'General Adrien Victus,' he said in a worn but strong voice. 'A pleasure to finally meet you.'

'Lina'Xen,' she replied, forcing as much confidence into her voice as she could. There was an air of authority about this general that was almost a physical presence in itself. 'JSTF commander. I've heard of you, General Victus. It's a privilege to meet such an honoured member of the turian army.'

To her surprise, the general waved a hand dismissively. '"Honoured" is a relative term, I know there are just as many of my peers who'd love to see me taken down a few pegs. In any case, it is I who should be honouring you. The way I understand it, you and your team are the only reason I'm standing here now.'

Lina's eyes narrowed through her visor and Pallin cleared his throat.

'General Victus was aboard the dreadnought Ascension during the Legion crisis,' he clarified. 'The warship infected with the Jamestown virus, you remember?'

Lina nodded. 'From what I heard, you had the situation under control yourself, General.'

Victus laughed, though to Lina it sounded uncomfortable and rare, more a grunt than a sound of amusement. 'Even were that true, I'd still be long dead if your people hadn't neutralised the damn thing. You deserve the victory, Lina, so don't be too quick to shy away from it.'

Lina shifted her weight from one foot to another, unused to the praise and it was with relief that she was able to hide her discomfort by taking the seat Pallin offered.

The turians sat down with her, Pallin behind his desk and Victus to Lina's left.

'I would have thought you'd be aboard this new turian dreadnought we've been hearing about,' Lina said as she delicately perched on the edge of her seat, unable to relax.

'Yes, the Kanderax,' Victus said, turning his head slightly as if to stare through the bulkheads out to where the Citadel Fleet waited. 'A proud achievement for my people, the biggest warship we've ever constructed and unmatchable by any other ship of its class. Worth the effort, even if it has ruffled a few asari feathers.'

Victus cleared his throat, clearly wary of saying too much on the subject. He looked to Pallin. 'But we can talk about the Kanderax another time. There are far more pressing matters to discuss.'

'Indeed,' Pallin began as he settled himself. 'I'll get straight to the point. Within the last twenty-four hours, the batarian terrorist group known as Crimson Fist detonated three bombs in quick succession. Their targets were human commercial and industrial facilities within Council space, the last being a human trade centre on Thessia. Governor Imali, administrator of the district, was one of the casualties.'

He looked at Lina, his tone grave. 'But that's not the worst part. There's one target left and one terrorist, an illegal batarian JSTF have tracked to the Citadel itself. This is what your team has discovered, Lina but I'm afraid the situation is even more...complicated than that.'

Lina's fingers dug into her knees. She expected him to mention the sudden hold-up of the casino in which their suspect was hiding, and was surprised when Pallin turned to Victus.

'Please, General, tell Lina what you just told me.'

Victus' voice was a deep rumble and his eyes were cold as they held Lina directly. 'Your batarian went to the casino to pick up the weapon he wanted to use for his attack, but it's not a bomb, at least not in the usual sense. The Crimson Fist attacks we've seen up till now, as you know, have been conventional high-yield explosives, deadly but only capable of levelling a building at most. Even in the worst case scenario, an ordinary bomb would not be a threat to the structural integrity of this station.'

He cleared his throat, as if unsure of how to go on. The hesitation was brief but as Victus went on, the more Lina realised why he was so anxious.

'Two weeks ago, a Titus-Seven covert nuclear weapon was stolen from a secure military vault on Menae. Menae is one of Palaven's two moons; they were scrubbed from official records during the Krogan Rebellions to stop them being used as kinetic impactors against our homeworld. Now it's a collection of naval bases, classified research labs and secret storage facilities among other things.'

Pausing, Victus' eyes bored into Lina's as he went on. 'The T-Seven was a prototype, a holdover from the Rebellions, a weapon designed to be carried by undercover operatives posing as pirates and mercenaries on krogan-held worlds. Old but extremely sophisticated nonetheless, using materials and technology since banned by Citadel law. It was meant to be compact, untraceable, undetectable but most of all, destructive. It's the perfect suitcase nuke, something that can go anywhere without anyone being the wiser before wiping its target off the face of existence.'

He let out a troubled breath.

'Somehow, don't ask me how, Crimson Fist has managed to get their hands on the T-Seven and if it's active, the entire Citadel is in danger. It can't be hacked or deactivated. Once it's armed and the case is opened, it'll blow in exactly ten minutes.'

Lina sat still for a moment, frozen in shock. Pallin too lowered his head to scratch at his crest nervously, the seconds ticking by in mute horror.

'This bomb, this T-Seven,' Lina said quietly. 'What's the effective range?'

Victus moved his lips slightly. 'It has a blast radius of six miles, with a shockwave more than ten times that. Because the technology used in its construction has been banned by the Council for a thousand years, and made with certain elements found only on Menae itself, there's no effective modern countermeasure. My people build their bombs to last, and they build them to work. With the T-Seven, I've no doubt Crimson Fist could destroy the Citadel itself.'

The news sank in slowly and Lina felt a trickle of sweat running down her brow beneath her helmet. She whispered a word that rarely left her lips.

'Keelah…'

'Obviously, we're keeping this under wraps as best we can,' Pallin said, snatching her attention. 'If news got out that a batarian terrorist has smuggled a weapon of mass destruction aboard the station it would cause a panic. A panic that C-Sec, to be frank, wouldn't be able to contain. We're considering evacuation options but not even the entire Citadel Fleet would be able to get thirteen million people out in time. In truth, should the worst happen, even our ships would be lucky to escape the blast.'

He dipped his head, his eyes holding Lina's with quiet desperation. 'Lina, this is where you come in. I understand you've tracked our suspect to a casino out in Zakera Ward, is that correct?'

'Yes, Sir,' Lina replied. She paused and let out a resigned sigh. She would have to tell him the truth. 'But we've got another problem. Before I came here, we received an emergency message from the Investigation agent tailing the suspect. An armed group has stormed the Silver Coast casino, holding everyone inside hostage.'

Pallin inhaled sharply at the news. 'This is a problem. If we go in there, the suspect may decide to detonate the T-Seven early. All of Crimson Fist's previous attacks have been suicide jobs. They won't hesitate to take as many people with them as they can if they feel they have no choice.'

Lina nodded. 'Our only saving grace right now is that the casino itself lies at the far end of the ward arm. It's far from the ideal place to set off the bomb but I agree, I don't doubt that if pressed, the suspect would detonate it all the same.'

She gave Victus a harsh look. 'And with respect, General, I'm struggling to understand how this was allowed to happen in the first place. Turians aren't ones for taking security lightly and Menae is in friendly territory. Hell, it's a stone's throw away from your bloody homeworld! Don't you have any leads at all?'

Rather than grow defensive, Victus conceded her point with a slow nod. 'We have strong suspicions but little real evidence. Whoever carried out the theft was smart, organised and they knew our security protocols inside out.'

'Which points to an inside job,' Lina finished.

Victus seemed surprised the quarian came to the conclusion so quickly but remained cagey all the same. 'We can't say, not yet. There are too many questions to be answered and, like you, we're trying to keep the whole affair as secret as possible. The turian military isn't used to such...lapses, and the Primarch fears it'll cause an embarrassment if word gets out.'

'An embarrassment?' Lina repeated sharply, her eyes narrowed behind her visor. 'I'd say it's more than a damn embarrassment, General! Your people lost a WMD and wait until now to say it's in the hands of a terrorist group that are threatening the Citadel? I'd call that a bloody disaster!'

'Please, Lina,' Pallin said pleadingly, raising a three-fingered hand, 'General Victus isn't to blame here. We all have our individual interests but our goal is still the same. We need to get that T-Seven back before it can be activated.'

Lina breathed heavily, the outburst having surprised even her. She dipped her helmet in a mute apology to Victus and listened to Pallin as he continued.

'You know the situation. I don't need to tell you that our lives, along with the lives of everyone on the Citadel, are in danger. The Joint Security Task Force stopped a major terrorist plot against the Council a year ago. We need you to do that again.'

Casting her mind back to those dangerous times, when her own life was almost cut brutally short, one person stood out to Lina; a young turian who had become swept up in those tumultuous events, no more able to deal with them than she had been and yet he'd come out of it to save them all.

As the reality of Victus' revelation set in, Lina sorely wished Arlen was there with her.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Another terrified scream ripped the air as a cowering asari was tugged out of the group of hostages by the chain around her neck. It was a slender choker of gold, and it didn't take much force for the links to break.

The asari thumped sobbing to the floor as Naraya held up the choker in triumph, raising it to the light and twisting it in her grip.

'Not bad,' she murmured before angling her head back. 'Hey, babe. What d'ya think? Look good on me?'

Across the gaming pit, Zwei oversaw the robbery with growing restlessness.

'Unless you're gonna wear it on your bloody palm, how should I know?' he snapped.

Naraya gave him an icy look. 'The hell's your problem?'

The human twitched slightly as he shifted on the spot, his eyes snapping between the hostages with maniacal intent.

'It's taking too long,' he replied hoarsely. 'Madsen should've finished by now. I'm getting bored.'

'You want me to go see how he's doing?'

Zwei's eyes were murderous as they snapped back to her. 'Give it another few minutes. If he's still not done, go and shoot the bastard.'

Naraya turned back to the hostages and snapped at them with fresh spite. The other members of Zwei's crew did the same, beating and barking at their helpless victims as they cowered in a huddle on the ground.

Molach watched it all with a growing sense of panic. The gaming machines and tables continued to drone out, providing an ironic background to the chaos. Instead of the casino taking its patrons' wealth it was these violent criminals, their voices rising above the noise and getting more desperate with each passing moment. Yet they hadn't just come for a quick heist, that much was becoming clear. Molach would've been curious if his every thought was spent on how he could get out of that mess.

The batarian had chosen not to resist and sat with the others, his hands on his head and tucked down into his chest. The T-Seven briefcase remained at his side, obscured in the mass of bodies. He'd briefly considered sliding it behind a Quasar machine but he didn't want to lose sight of it, considering what it contained.

A part of him regretted the decision as he felt it jar against his legs, digging into his backside sharply but the time had long passed for second-guesses. All he could do was watch the dangerous interlopers as closely as he could and wait for his chance to slip away.

A shadow darkened the floor in front of Molach and he raised his head, the motion sluggish with trepidation.

Zwei stared down at him, his twin Shurikens rattling as they twitched urgently at his sides.

Molach held his breath. Something about this human was just plain wrong. He attempted a show of fear, if only to convince Zwei to move on.

'Please,' he said, trembling, 'I don't have anything of value. Maybe a few hundred credits but that's all.'

A grin cut across Zwei's features, a malevolent expression that struck terror into Molach more than any words could.

'Nothin' of value, eh?' the human said mockingly. He turned his head to address the blue-painted male turian to his left. 'Oi, Tuvio! When was the last time you saw one of these here?'

Tuvio shrugged. 'One of what, Boss?'

'One of these...what do you call 'em…' Zwei went on, making circles with one of the Shurikens as he spoke. 'Batarians, that's it. Ain't seen one of them on the Citadel before.'

Tuvio strode over to Zwei, hefting his shotgun weightily in his hands.

'They're not usually allowed on the Citadel,' he replied, gesturing to Molach with the barrel. 'Not unless they're diplomats or some shit. I'm guessing this fella's important.'

Zwei's grin remained as he regarded Molach again with renewed interest. 'Right. And nobody comes to this place without more than a few hundred creds in their pocket. That ain't enough to get you through a varren race, am I right?''

'Right, Boss.'

The horror Molach felt was no longer feigned. He glanced between the human and turian, his head swimming. Nausea threatened then and it took all of his strength to stay lucid.

'Please,' he tried again, 'I'm just an aide, an assistant to the Hegemony ambassador. Just let me go, I've got nothing you want.'

'Uh-huh,' Zwei mumbled as his eyes flickered down.

A sinking sensation rocked Molach, making him blink hard as he realised Zwei had seen the T-Seven. He was unable to stop the human's foot as it kicked out, knocking him clean onto his back and leaving the briefcase exposed.

'There, see?' Zwei sneered as he knelt to pick it up. 'Nice. Shiny. Good bit of kit, this. Very professional.'

He started to open the case when Molach's voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks.

'No! Don't open it, you fool!'

'Shut up,' Tuvio snarled, striking Molach across the head with the butt of his shotgun.

Zwei froze and looked at the batarian curiously. 'Why shouldn't I open it, exactly?'

'It's a b-'

Molach hesitated. He was painfully aware that every eye and ear in the room was fixed solely on him. The sinking despair that had filled him before had turned into sheer desperation and he hissed his warning, his teeth rimed with blood.

'It's a bomb,' he said slowly and quietly, holding Zwei's gaze. 'A powerful one. Powerful enough to obliterate you, me, this entire section of the wards, maybe even the Citadel itself.'

A shocked gasp rippled through the hostages and even Zwei's own crew stood very still.

The man himself, however, simply glared at Molach. Gradually, his twisted grin returned.

'My, my,' he said softly, almost whispering. 'This is a turn up, 'innit? What's a piece of vorcha shite like you doing with something like this?'

Molach's lips remained pursed, his expression hard. All four of his eyes were on this cocky young human who held the vengeance of the batarian people in his hands. Something heavy fell away from his soul in that moment, a kind of clarity that banished his fear and emboldened his purpose. He remembered then why he had come to the Citadel in the first place.

'You wouldn't understand,' he seethed. Uncaring of the weapons pointed at him, he slowly rose to his feet. 'You couldn't understand. You humans are so always arrogant, always trampling over others in your Council-blessed conquest of the galaxy.'

Tuvio raised his weapon as Molach took two deliberate steps over to Zwei, stopping only to breathe his words into the human's face.

'You will all suffer for what you've done to us.'

The seconds stretched with only the terrified whispers of the hostages and the clicking of primed weapons to break the silence. Naraya had come forward as well, her weapon pointed at Molach and her gaze almost frenzied.

To the batarian's astonishment, Zwei laughed. It was only a brief, savage sound that was cut short too quickly, barely a laugh at all.

Zwei returned his gaze and Molach felt his nerve waver at what he saw in the man's eyes.

'You think you know me so well,' Zwei finally replied. He shook his head. 'Well, I've got news for you, mate.'

A brilliant flash made Molach shut his eyes and a heartbeat later he was propelled back, sailing through the air until his back met a roulette table. Stools and glasses flew and shattered, and Molach's right arm exploded in agony as it was wrenched from its socket.

He hung his head for a moment to gather his senses. The room swirled about him and he felt bile rise in his throat. He thought he would be sick, and only the sight that met his eyes when he finally looked up stopped him from doing so.

He'd thought it a shotgun blast that had struck him, and he was shocked to see Zwei standing with his arm outstretched, his flesh wreathed in shimmering biotic energy. His white hair was as if made of blue fire. The mass effect field swirled about him, making the loose cloth of his jacket flap and jerk. The very air around him pulsed and shivered, and Molach knew then his life was going to end.

'You…' Molach spat, sending flecks of blood from his lips. 'You're a… What are you?'

Zwei crossed the room, his biotic power ebbing and flowing wildly about him. He reached the shattered batarian and brought out his Shurikens, aiming both at Molach's head.

'Me? I'm only human, mate,' he answered before pulling the triggers.

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