MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2

*Episode Five*

The locks to Arlen's apartment door disengaged with a series of steady clicks before grinding open. He blinked as he stepped from the lurid blue lighting of the corridor into the near total darkness of his small home. The only light came in red stripes through the blinds stretching across the single large window in front of him, Zakera Ward's neon glow rendered in bars of shifting colour across the sparse furnishings of his living room. The smell was slightly musty, that of old dust and clothes that had sat dirty for too long without being washed, all blurring into the damp tang of his own outfit sodden with blood and sweat.

Arlen passed the open plan kitchen to his right, its surfaces littered with empty food containers. The sink was empty; those days he ate nothing he couldn't consume quickly and with minimum preparation. A few more steps took him to a desk set against the far left living room wall and he passed a hand over the haptic switch of a small lamp.

The glow was enough to light the immediate area and nothing more, a small patch of hard yellow in the gloom. Arlen's terminal flashed to life in scrolling patches of orange but he didn't sit down to use it, instead pawing at the keyboard to sift through messages that had accumulated while he was away.

It was the usual junk. Demands for rent, unpaid bills, advertisements for Morlan's Famous Shop, a hundred things he'd forgotten to deal with in the past weeks. He brought up his omni-tool and connected to the terminal.

'Here you go.'

Both omni-tool and terminal display flared momentarily and the bust of an asari construct similar to that of the Citadel's resident VI, Avina, flickered into view on the latter. Petra's voice bloomed from the speakers.

'Honey, I'm home!'

It was a running joke between them, one that had long grown stale to Arlen but he managed a reluctant smile for her sake.

'Might as well make yourself comfortable,' he said, turning back to the kitchen. 'I've got a feeling that if I so much as turn up to file paperwork, Captain Ferrata will suspend me on the spot.'

He reached the refrigerator and it washed his dark skin with white as he opened the door. The shelves were depressingly bare. He settled for a bottle of Palaven-imported fruit juice, a concoction that tasted foul but contained all the nutrients a turian needed to keep his mind in good shape. A placebo, to be sure but he needed as many of those as he could get at that moment.

'So,' Petra began as Arlen returned, twisting the bottle cap off and taking a gulp, 'I know this isn't what you had in mind but what about Terra Nova? It's beautiful, not too crowded, you can explore the capital city before heading out into the countrysi-'

'A human colony?' Arlen asked with a mouth half-full of juice. 'You really think they'd appreciate a turian showing up, even a tourist?'

'A "tour-ian"?' Petra giggled.

Arlen sighed, shaking his head. 'Why would you even- Never mind, I'm not interested.'

'Okay then, what about an asari world? There's always Thessia. The museums, the art, the beaches…'

'No thanks,' Arlen replied brusquely.

Silence intervened, stretching out with only the muted drones of passing shuttle traffic for company. Petra broke it as Arlen drained the last of the bottle.

'You're not helping,' she said moodily.

'And I said we'd do this tomorrow.'

'What's the difference?' Petra argued. The AI softened her tone. 'We both know you're not going to be able to sleep till after you unwind, so what's the harm in having a little discussion first?'

Arlen didn't answer. He straightened, taking his head out of the lamplight and replacing it with the seamy red stripes from the window. His bloodshot eyes glittered green as they moved along the wall above the desk.

Seeing this, Petra spoke quickly to distract him. 'Don't even think about it! Come on, I have a whole list of places here.'

Still Arlen remained silent. His gaze passed over slip-printed photos and reports held to the metallic wall with magnets, details he couldn't read in that low light but didn't need to. Almost every word and image had been committed to memory.

Petra's voice grew sorrowful. 'Arlen, please…'

It was too late. His mind had already turned to what it always did when he wasn't working.

It wasn't just a few pictures and file sheets. The entire wall was filled with evidence. Pin magnets tied with red thread connected photo to photo, report to report, photo to report, in a colossal web that criss-crossed several metres. Arlen's eyes passed over individuals, from mugshots to news and magazine clippings, all scrawled with hundreds of notes in red pen. It was laid out in a way that an omni-tool could never provide, an investigator's collage of solid proof, half-truths and suppositions.

In the centre of the wall a security cam still-footage showed the blurred, shadowy form of a salarian walking through the Presidium, his head looking over his shoulder as if he'd known he was being watched. The salarian was a distinctly odd-looking one for his species, with wide shoulders and a loping gait.

Arlen had written three words at the bottom of the picture in large red capitals:

LEAGUE OF ONE

He didn't know how long he stood there, travelling the paths of logic, deduction and conjecture in front of him. As he did every night he was home, he simply watched the motionless collection, waiting for some new insight to come to him, for some previously unnoticed detail to leap out.

'You need to stop this.' Petra sounded utterly serious, showing none of her usual cheeriness. 'Please, I can't keep seeing you like this.'

Arlen regained enough prescience to answer. It was one of pain and exhaustion. 'I can't stop, Petra. I can't. Not while they're still out there.'

'It won't bring Amanda back.'

The statement of fact bit deeply into Arlen's heart. It wounded him, making him lower his eyes to the desk, lining them with tears.

Along with the terminal, several small white bottles with prescription labels stood, some lying empty on their side. He reached out for one, popping off the lid and swallowing several painkillers with a fluid ease that came from months of practice. Another bottle followed, "Antidepressants" printed clearly on the front.

It would take a short time for the pills to kick in and even then, Arlen was never sure if they really worked. They seemed to be a little less effective every time. The best he could hope for was that he would sleep without being taken back to a candlelit bedroom, a human woman with golden hair and soft, firm brown skin smiling up at him from between the sheets.

'I know it won't bring her back,' he finally admitted, 'but it's all I've got left.'

Any response Petra had was cut off before it began when the front door rang. Cursing under his breath, Arlen tried to compose himself. He wasn't expecting company and his temper frayed as he approached the door. He didn't even bother trying to straighten out his appearance.

The door slid open and Arlen paused in surprise. Whatever curt dismissal he had in store for whoever had disturbed him died instantly on his lips.

It was Lina'Xen.

The quarian too hesitated, her hand rising to fidget with the embroidered dark blue hood covering her helmet. She stood relaxed, her wide hips swaying slightly as her pale eyes passed over him, the movements subtle but distinct behind her visor.

'I…' she began before falling silent again.

It was shock, Arlen quickly realised. Obviously Lina hadn't expected to see him bloodied and ragged. He turned his head, suddenly ashamed. He didn't know what to say.

Lina summoned her wits. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, Arlen. I didn't think…'

Again she trailed off and with a deep breath, Arlen looked back to her and forced a weak smile.

'It's okay. Do you want to come in?'

She obliged, stepping into the deep shadow of the apartment. Arlen closed the door and ambled past her. Lina looked lost for a moment, an unusual sight that sat at odds with the dynamic, decisive young woman he'd known a year ago.

'Do you want something to drink?' he asked, motioning to the kitchen. Seeing for himself the mess that he'd left the place in, embarrassment flushed his broken skin and he let his arm drop limply.

'No, I'm fine, thank you,' Lina replied politely. She looked about the apartment as if she'd just set foot on an alien world. 'I…suppose it'd be silly to ask how you're doing.'

The honesty brought a bitter chuckle from Arlen. 'Yeah, I guess it would.' He decided to take the initiative and walked back to his desk, presenting the chair to Lina. 'Take a seat.'

Lina set herself on the very edge of the chair, so much that Arlen was concerned it would tip over. Her head continued to move, looking around in what he could only guess was astonishment. Arlen didn't rush her, choosing instead to lean back against the desk and fold his arms patiently.

After a time, she ceased her quiet appraisal and turned her gaze down to her lap. 'I'm sorry to show up at such short notice. Things are a little crazy right now and I know you're busy with your own work.'

At that, Arlen let out a quiet snort. 'Don't worry about that. I was just put on forced vacation.'

'Forced? Why did-' Lina stopped and after a moment, shook her head. 'Of course.' She met Arlen's eyes and shrugged. 'I didn't want to say, but you look…'

'Terrible?' Arlen finished. He was still smiling.

Lina resumed her unconscious toying with her hood. 'I was going to say "tired", but yes, I suppose that's one way of putting it.' Her milky gaze held his own once again and her voice quietened, betraying her worry. 'What happened to you, Arlen?'

Arlen grunted. A year was a long time. Perhaps the sight of Lina brought back memories of reliance and shared adversity, spiked with moments of raw, tender friendship where they'd poured all their trust into one another but that was all that remained: memories. Intangible, fleeting and ultimately irrelevant. It all washed away from Arlen like the blood he would soon be rinsing from his face. It left nothing but the cold reality of two people who no longer truly knew each other.

The cynicism was easy to hold onto and his reply was distant. 'I brought in a suspect earlier, a turian named Serica Ronn. He was seconds away from assassinating his target but I managed to get to him in time. It was a tough fight.'

'No kidding. I thought you'd have an easier time once you got into your real C-Sec work, compared to that business a year ago. I can't believe you're still putting yourself through this sort of thing.'

Arlen levered himself from the desk and turned to lean over it, speaking over his shoulder. 'Well, I'm not exactly hunting down varren pups.'

'Of course not, but still… Anyway, I'm glad to hear you got him in the end. It sounds like your vacation has been well-earned.'

Arlen sniffed loudly and spat his response, 'It wasn't my choice and I haven't earned anything. Ronn was just an enforcer. My real target's still out there. A man called Zwei Jaeger.'

'Yes, I know. That's…actually why I'm here.'

Taken aback, Arlen twisted on the spot to look at her, frowning gently. 'What do you mean?'

Lina glanced aside, reluctance making her slim shoulders sag. 'I'm not sure if I should say. When I first decided to contact you again, things were simpler but then something unexpected happened and I knew you deserved more than a vid call. I mean, it's nothing to do with clearance level or authorisation, I just…I didn't know you were having such a hard time. If I'd known then-'

Her eyes widened a little as Arlen leaned forward and clasped her shoulders tightly. Despite his battered appearance, he stared into her with a force that she'd rarely seen in anyone else.

'Please,' he softly implored. 'If you've got any news about Zwei, I need to know. I can't rest until I catch this guy.'

Conflict raged visibly in Lina. It was written in the subtle, awkward movements of her body, and in the way her eyes widened and narrowed imperceptibly behind her visor. At last, she sighed but with the sound came a new strength. The commander's posture straightened again as her resolve returned.

'All right, but not here. Come back to the command centre with me, I'll explain on the way.'

She jumped as Petra's voice blared from the terminal. 'It's good to see you too, Lina!'

'P-Petra?' Lina stammered. 'Keelah, I'd almost forgotten! It's good to hear your voice again.' She stood and let Arlen's hands slip from her shoulders as the weakness of before was banished. 'Bring her along too. She might come in handy.'

Arlen looked down at the remains of what used to be a business suit hanging from his lean frame. 'Do I have time to change?'

Though he couldn't have seen it, Lina offered him a small grin. 'Get your armour on, Interceptor.'

~~~ME-I2~~~

The turian embassy did not stand out against its surroundings. It was like everything else they constructed - austere, sterile and functional. The very most the waiting room had to set it apart from the uniform white and grey of the rest of the Presidium was the single, stark Turian Hierarchy emblem on the opposite wall.

It was so predictable, and yet Eris Saverra couldn't help but admire their lack of pretension. As an asari, she was ingrained with the importance of art, the essentiality of culture in everything that was built. There was seldom a straight edge to be found in asari architecture and even their own embassy on the Presidium was disguised by sculpture and painting to transform it into a piece of their homeworld.

The young woman gazed about as she sat, if only to distance herself from the nagging discomfort of her chair. That too was distinctly turian, which meant a definitive lack of cushioning and her backside was beginning to complain too loudly to be ignored.

Beside her, Ambassador Siya Novari bristled as she applied a fresh coat of silvery lipstick. Her voice, while deep and smooth for an asari matron, was tainted with its usual condescension.

'Please, Dear, continue to gawk. We want the turians to think we are all naive children, after all.'

Timidly, Eris returned her pale blue eyes to the wall directly in front of her. 'I'm sorry, Miss Novari.'

'Yes, you certainly are,' Novari muttered, the words muffled slightly as she pursed her lips, observing her handiwork in a small compact mirror. 'You are sorry. A sorry excuse for an assistant. I'm not sure what genius decided to send an acolyte to be my aide instead of, say, a professional but I'll be damned if I let you ruin all my hard work with your foolishness.'

Eris said nothing as she stared ahead blankly. Her stomach turned in shame instinctively at the admonishment and she couldn't listen to the kernel of reason inside her telling her that she should be used to this treatment by now.

Her fingers gripped the lap of her long formal dress. It should have been a dream come true, to be assigned to the Citadel, the very centre of galactic politics. After two months as Ambassador Novari's aide, however, the dream had very quickly turned into a rude awakening.

It was with a palpable sense of relief that the nearby office door whirred open, the button ringing out softly. Both women rose to their feet, Novari standing a head taller than her assistant, and most asari at that.

A turian dressed in a smart suit of white and grey stood at the door panel, and he dipped his head respectfully to Novari and Eris as they entered. He did not move from his position as he keyed the door closed once more, giving them all complete privacy.

Eris glanced around briefly. It was the first time she had been in the office of the turian ambassador and it was an odd change from the rest of the embassy. Though it still paled in comparison to asari artistry, this room was splashed with colour. The pearly walls were decorated with ornate pictures of ships, generals and portraits of glorious battles past. They stood alongside historical tapestries, some of which must have been thousands of years old, and various tropical plants broke up the rigid Presidium lines with spikes of lush green. As was typical, the office was open to the air at the rear wall, with a balcony overlooking the financial district and its surrounding lakes.

A single desk lay in front of the balcony, facing the door. An old turian rose to his feet behind it, giving his guests a courteous bow.

'Ambassador Novari,' he greeted warmly, his mandibles parting in a smile. His voice was rich with the peculiar flanging of turian vocal chords, more so than Eris was used to hearing from his species. It soothed her as he gestured to two waiting chairs. 'Please, sit. I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long.'

Eris followed her mistress and was privately overjoyed to lower herself into a sumptuous leather chair, the aches gained by sitting in the previous one rapidly melting away.

She risked a small look directly at the turian ambassador. His weathered skin was a warm brown hue with dark edgings on his lips and graceful curves of black paint around both his jaw and deep golden eyes. His fringe was very long for one of his people, and on closer inspection so were his mandibles. It all gave him an odd luminance that matched his deep, throaty drawl.

Eris started when his eyes met hers and that voice seethed into her, 'And your name, Miss?'

Eris opened her mouth but Novari cut her off.

'My assistant, Eris,' she said curtly.

'Ah,' the turian responded, keeping his eyes on Eris as his grin widened in genuine pleasure. 'I am Ambassador Ciro Tessarius. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, truly.'

Eris couldn't help but smile back. There was something so welcoming about this man that she felt quite disarmed. It barely occurred to her that such traits were probably what got him the job to begin with.

Novari cocked a brow. 'If we're quite finished with the introductions,' she said sharply, 'then I suggest we begin.'

Ciro seemed to have to drag his gaze from Eris. He nodded once. 'Yes, of course. Let's get started.'

~~~ME-I2~~~

Councillor Sparatus stared impassively out of his chamber window, the light from the Serpent Nebula highlighting the white face paint tracing the dark maroon of the turian's carapace. Beyond, the lights of Tayseri Ward glittered, but it was what lay in between that held Sparatus' attention.

The Citadel Fleet drifted in close formation nearer to the Ward arms than usual, a parade of strength and unity to mark the weekend-long celebration of humanity's official admittance to the Council. The selection process had been long and arduous, but it was somewhat fitting that the fleet be deployed to commemorate the new Council member, him being a captain of the Alliance Navy and all.

Still, that wasn't what Sparatus was observing so intently. It was a ship, half as long again as the largest turian dreadnought, slicing the fleet in two like a shard of glass. It was an immense craft, its double-pronged superstructure dwarfing even the asari's Destiny Ascension only a short distance away.

The Kanderax was a miracle of shipbuilding, a true symbol of turian power. It would not be long before it was recognised as the flagship of the Turian Navy. Perhaps even the Citadel Fleet, in time.

The councillor's mood soured at the thought. He did not look forward to the asari reaction to that particular eventuality. For a race so obsessed with their image of diplomacy and peaceful restraint, the blue-skinned aliens were very quick to anger when their traditional roles were challenged.

'He's late,' Sparatus muttered, forcing himself from his deliberations. He kept his watch on the nebula while behind him, General Victus shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

The room was spartan, with only a few smatterings of personal possessions. Sparatus was not one for frivolity. There was only a large meeting table in the middle of the floor and a small desk off to the side. The datapads lined along the shelf above were the only ornaments, marking the abode of a man who had time for little else other than his work.

Victus spoke with his usual calm conviction. 'He'll be here, Sir. Security is tough on everyone entering the Citadel these days, even men of his rank.'

As if in response, the door behind them opened. Through it strode another turian, one not dissimilar in appearance from Sparatus himself, though his pale facial markings were not graceful curves of white but violent vertical slashes that arched around the ridges of his crest and cheeks to meet along his chin. His eyes were piercing blue and they fixed on the two other men in the room.

'Admiral,' Sparatus greeted before dipping his head towards the table. 'Take a seat.'

Admiral Aetius Kaion tucked his hands into the curve of his back. He was thin and gaunt for a turian, even in his armour draped with formal robes of station. He replied with a voice like a grinding turbine - sharp, rough and distinct.

'I'd rather not, Councillor. With respect, I don't believe this will take long.'

The two continued to watch one another, an unspoken challenge mounting between them. Victus cleared his throat to dispel some of the tension.

'Gentlemen, please,' he said evenly. 'We have a lot to discuss and none of us want to be here all day.'

After a moment, Sparatus made the first move, grudgingly making his way over to sit at the head of the table. Even under the scrutiny of both the councillor and General Victus, Kaion refused to budge.

The admiral narrowed his eyes at them. 'I trust you have a good reason for distracting me from my duties? A ship like the Kanderax won't command itself.'

'The theft of a weapon of mass destruction is more than a mere distraction,' Sparatus snapped. 'This is a serious threat to the Citadel. More than that, it is a danger to everything the Hierarchy has worked to build after more than a thousand years of peaceful cooperation with the other species of this galaxy.'

Kaion tilted his head and pursed his lips, a slight and brief expression of apathy. It didn't go unnoticed by Victus, who could only shake his head.

Victus placed his elbows on the table, folding his hands together contemplatively. 'The councillor is correct. You know me, Aetius. I've never let politics affect my strategic decisions where the Empire is concerned but this is beyond politics. The truth is, we're at a low ebb. We can't afford to lose that bomb. The actions of General Krassus a year ago and his attack on that human passenger ship, that business hurt our reputation. It was a stain on our honour, that a man as respected as Krassus could be no better than a batarian terrorist.'

'Krassus was dealt with,' Kaion replied. 'The fickle asari and salarians have forgotten it even happened.'

'Don't be naive,' Sparatus growled. 'For the past year I've had to make constant concessions to the humans as a result of Krassus. They even had their own Spectre, despite my objections. But they're the least of our concerns. Right now as we speak, the top asari emissary is meeting with Ambassador Tessarius to negotiate a territorial dispute in the Silean Nebula, a dispute that wouldn't have risen if they didn't smell our current weakness.'

Kaion began to pace the room. It was no accident that he was still not seated as he made his way slowly around the table, talking as he went.

'Very well. I grant you the T-Seven's disappearance is indeed a matter of some concern. I have my own contacts within the investigation and their preliminary insights are…fascinating, to say the least. But you're not going to talk about the investigation, are you?'

'There's nothing to tell,' said Victus. 'We know as much as you know.'

'And that's likely all we will know, seeing as how you've entrusted its recovery to Citadel Security,' Kaion sneered, still making his way steadily around the table. 'The biggest security leak we've had in a millennia and you're relying on police officers? What a joke.'

Sparatus' mandibles flared in anger as he stood suddenly, hunched over the table. 'C-Sec has some of the finest intelligence agents and analysts in the galaxy. Your intolerable disrespect aside, Admiral, what do you suggest we do instead? Hand this over to the salarians? The asari? At least with C-Sec we can retain some degree of oversight.'

Kaion had come to a stop to stare at Sparatus directly. It didn't last long before he conceded the point with a small grin. 'As you say, Councillor. I'll have to trust that your C-Sec is enough to get the job done.'

As Sparatus eased himself gradually back into his seat, Kaion spoke again. 'But you two have been beating around the bush long enough already. Tell me, what exactly do these talks with the asari have to do with the Titus-Seven?'

General Victus lowered his hands. 'As the councillor intimated, these are high-stakes negotiations surrounding several star systems in the Silean Nebula that were surveyed by our long-range recon vessels during the Krogan Rebellions. We'd only just come into contact with the Council and were still expanding the Empire when we secured our claims to those systems as part of our agreement to aid the Council against the krogan. Since then, the elcor have joined the Citadel and are now laying claim to those same systems. The asari are arguing that because we haven't moved a muscle to settle them in a thousand years, both they and the elcor have a stronger claim than we do.'

'How very asari of them,' Kaion mused. 'So what's your interest in this, General? As you said yourself, you're not a political animal.'

Victus blinked unsteadily. 'I was asked here by the councillor.'

'To lend some sort of military credence to what he's about to demand of me, no doubt,' Kaion preempted. He again fixed Sparatus with a hard glare, the snide grin still on his lips. 'But I see your problem. The asari are pushing their luck and we just so happen to deploy the Kanderax, the largest dreadnought in existence, to the Citadel in plain view. Oh, I'll bet those little blue bitches didn't like that one bit, did they?'

Victus was still and emotionless as he regarded the man with whom he'd served for decades, their paths running parallel for so many years before their careers took them in very different directions. His tone was as neutral as his expression. 'You always were too perceptive for your own good, old friend.'

Kaion's grin tightened as he leaned over to rest his hands on the far end of the table. 'Gentlemen, I have a ship to command. A ship whose maiden voyage was not to intimidate secessionists or obliterate pirate fleets, but was instead pulled across the galaxy to be a plaything for politicians. If I'm to be a message to the other species, that's fine, but I at least ask that you respect my time enough not to drag me from my bridge to brief me on pointless affairs.'

He turned abruptly to leave, but after only a few steps halted at the snap of Sparatus' voice.

'You're not here to be briefed, Admiral.'

Curious, Kaion glanced back over his shoulder at the councillor.

'You're here to be warned,' Sparatus said sternly. His face was taut with restrained anger. This time, it was his turn to hold Kaion in place and he tapped a finger on the table pointedly. 'I already knew of your reputation when I heard you'd been granted command of the Kanderax. General Victus here filled in the blanks. I've let you air your objections, now it's time for you to listen to mine.'

The councillor leaned forward. The threat in his tone was unmistakable.

'I've spent years on the Council improving the standing of all turians in the galaxy. Your opinion on the value of those efforts is worthless to me. I brought you here today not to discuss the Titus-Seven theft, not to discuss our diplomatic efforts with the asari, but to tell you that I will not sanction your destructive attitude when it comes to our allies. Stay on the blasted Kanderax if it suits you. It would be convenient for us all if you didn't leave it during your time here. If you step out of line, put one talon beyond what I deem reasonable conduct, then I will have you demoted to a desk faster than you could think possible. Am I understood, Admiral?'

Kaion's gaze burned through the other men. His mandibles convulsed, telling of his rage. Finally, his smile returned.

'Of course, Councillor,' he hissed. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, seeming to suck the very life out of the small space with his departure.

General Victus sighed. 'He outdid himself this time. He's even more fractious than I remember. Still, it was worth taking him out of his comfort zone. I doubt you could've gotten your point across in a vid call.'

Sparatus was unamused. 'I wish you were staying here to keep an eye on him, but that bomb is our top priority. C-Sec's Joint Security Task Force have proven themselves more than competent in the past but things are desperate. If the other races learn of this, it'll make our negotiation positions across the entire diplomatic board nigh untenable. Our place in the Council may be undermined in a way we haven't known since joining.'

'I'll do everything I can, Sir,' Victus assured him before rising to his feet. 'Hopefully by the time I reach Palaven there'll be a positive development and I can be reassigned back to my unit. This role doesn't suit me. Give me a filthy dugout in the trenches over endless meetings in the Presidium any day.'

At that, Sparatus chuckled. It was all the agreement he needed to display. As much as he liked Victus, the general was no politician.

Victus saluted and left the room. Alone, Sparatus mulled over his precious few solutions to the very many problems assailing him. He couldn't help but fear for what was to come as he waited for word from the turian embassy.

~~~ME-I2~~~

The meeting between the ambassadors had dragged into its second hour. From his position at the door, Antus Kuril's mandibles flexed with interest as he watched Ciro carefully deal with Ambassador Novari.

It was a curious thing. Novari was a veteran diplomat and Ciro's undeniable charm was wasted on her but her assistant, Eris, was another story. That one looked barely old enough to be there, though such concepts were always difficult to fit into the asari life cycles with any accuracy. Still, the younger woman was wide-eyed, smooth of skin and had a constant, nervous energy that betrayed her inexperience.

Antus longed to smile. If Ciro were the sort of man to take advantage of such things, Eris would be in serious trouble.

Novari's harsh tone brought Antus back from his musings. 'No, it is most certainly not off the table. You're skirting the Treaty of Farixen with that monstrosity of yours.'

'Others have accused you of doing the same with the Destiny Ascension,' Ciro replied smoothly. 'Until the treaty is amended or revised entirely, we will continue to follow precedent. Precedent set by the asari, I must remind you.'

It always impressed Antus how Ciro managed to keep his civil tone in the face of the most intense political bluster. He'd faced down threats of galactic war with the same easy grin and unflappable manner he was showing now. The man was a master of his craft.

It was that relentlessly amiable facade which had Novari's voice cracking with irritation, but then she had her own reputation, one that had served her well. Those who went into a negotiation with her expecting asari temperance were instantly thrown off-balance by her brusque nature. At times it was all too easy to use someone's preconceptions against them.

Novari gestured in the direction of the balcony. 'The Kanderax is nearly twenty percent greater in mass than the Destiny Ascension! That qualifies as a new class of ship entirely, the two cannot be compared.'

'Not in the eyes of the Treaty of Farixen,' Ciro humbly pointed out. He spread his hands helplessly. 'I'm sorry, Ambassador, but it seems to me the asari are simply bitter that they no longer have the largest toy on the playground. This is hardly a constructive attitude, nor a positive example to set for our new human compatriots. They lost many ships during the geth attack, all to save the Council. They will be looking to rebuild their fleet and in greater numbers now they're a Council race, and they will need support from us, not infighting.'

'Don't deflect the issue,' Novari warned. 'At least we can trust the humans to keep to Farixen guidelines when building that fleet. Or perhaps that's what the Kanderax is for after all?'

Antus' sharp ears picked up the last few words, softly spoken though they were. His curiosity heightened as he saw Ciro's brow plates press together.

'What are you saying, exactly?'

Antus couldn't see it but he knew Novari was wearing a smug smile as she replied. 'I've heard it from your own lips many times over the years. The turians suspected humanity would end up on the Council sooner rather than later, and after the First Contact War few of your people would be best pleased about it. The geth attack might have sped up the process but you started preparing a long time ago, didn't you?'

Ciro's expression eased slightly as he fought to direct the conversation. 'Do elaborate.'

Novari folded her arms. 'You turians are so very, very proud of your position as guardians of galactic peace. This will hardly be news to you, but many consider you galactic enforcers, not peacekeepers. Of course, now humans are on the Council, they will join their forces to the Citadel Fleet and water down your own contingent in the greater whole. You foresaw this years ago, long ago enough to come up with a solution. The Kanderax is your little insurance policy, isn't it?'

'Insurance against what, exactly?' Ciro queried.

'Against them. Against us. Against everyone. You turians rarely leave anything to chance, least of all galactic peace.'

Some time passed in silent contemplation as Ciro digested Novari's accusation. He gave very little away to Antus' eyes but then he would be the first to admit his own ability to read people paled in comparison to either ambassador. Antus blinked as Ciro called over to him.

'Mister Kuril, if you please.'

Antus bowed shallowly and strode to a nearby table, on which a selection of teas had been brewing. He picked up the tray and brought it to the ambassadors, a light trail of steam following in his wake. The tea itself had been stewing for several minutes and he knew by now which kind each guest preferred.

He set a minty green glass in front of Ciro, then offered the tray to Eris, then Novari. The former grasped her warm glass eagerly but Novari waited for Antus himself to reach out and hand out hers directly.

As he did so, she chose that moment to slip out her hand and slide it under his. The heat of her soft blue skin made Antus flush but he kept his hand there for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Novari's eyes did not leave Ciro and neither did the turian ambassador give any indication he'd seen the subtle motion.

Novari picked up the glass and gave a slight nod to Antus, who bowed again and moved away.

Ciro cleared his throat. 'Ambassador, we are not unreasonable. Your claims in the Silean Nebula are being considered by the Primarchs, as are those of the elcor but you must try and understand what we would be giving up in resource wealth alone. I'm afraid we'll have to remain at an impasse until suitable incentives are offered, and Citadel Fleet composition is not part of that discussion. You have our demands, so please consider them and consult your matriarchs so we can develop these talks further.'

He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together over his stomach. 'For now, I think this meeting has reached its conclusion. I am truly sorry we couldn't reach an agreement today but it was a pleasure seeing you again, as always.'

Antus had returned to the door and he couldn't help but flick his gaze to Novari as her tall, supple form slid up out of her seat.

'Yes,' she muttered. 'Always a pleasure.'

Ciro graced them with his famous smile and looked to her young assistant. 'And it was very nice to meet you, Miss Eris. I hope to see you again soon.'

Antus watched Eris grin awkwardly, her fingers fumbling in front of her. 'Y-yes, Ambassador, thank you for having me.'

'Quite', said Ciro. A few moments passed as Eris visibly fought the urge to giggle.

Suddenly even more irate, Novari turned with a single, razor-sharp word to her aide. 'Come.'

As the two women left the room, Novari's gaze met that of Antus. He opened the door and his head followed Novari as she walked past. Though the turian couldn't afford to let his emotions show in plain view of his superior, he felt desire stir as Novari's crystalline eyes locked with his. Her silver-painted lips quirked suggestively and Antus realised he was fighting every instinct in his blood to grasp his lover around the waist and pull her in for a hungry kiss.

It was not an option, and Antus had little trouble quelling those rebellious compulsions. He did however risk a lingering glance at Novari's backside as it heaved and shifted beneath her dress as she walked.

It was at that moment he resolved to make his next call to her as soon as the day had ended.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Arlen and Lina were waved through the security checkpoint leading to the JSTF command centre with little more than a cursory scan. At their backs, the roiling bustle of C-Sec headquarters' main atrium receded sharply behind multiple layers of thick blast doors. Whatever nostalgia was meant to grip Arlen at the sight of the place was crushed under a potent sense of urgency.

He'd listened to Lina as she brought him up to speed on all that had happened that day; the Thessia bombing, Molach, Zwei's raid on the casino. It would have all seemed beyond belief had he not already been embroiled in that world once before. He knew all too well how crazy the galaxy could be.

Now his expression was locked in fierce determination as he kept pace with the quarian commander, who continued to speak as she walked.

'My first instinct was to order Zwei be transferred to us for interrogation but Special Response insisted Enforcement handle containment. For once, I agree. If he's as powerful a biotic as his file says, we don't have those kinds of specialised facilities to hold him.'

Arlen nodded. 'The file's inaccurate. He's far more dangerous than you've read. I don't know if it's some kind of souped-up illegal amp he uses, or if he's just a freak of nature but he makes regular human biotics look like magicians at a children's party. Just another little detail I want to find out now we've got the bastard.'

Lina looked at him. 'You said you've been after him for a while now. Is there anything else you can tell us that might be useful when we go to work on him?'

'Probably. I've never come face to face with the guy but I've been through everything. Not pretty reading when you're dealing with a serial sado-masochist. His rap sheet, snitch reports, case files, they're all filled with the kind of stuff that'll give you nightmares every time you go to sleep. The strange thing is, it only goes back until about ten years ago. Zwei just seemed to appear from nowhere on the galactic underworld scene, killing a big-time Omega gang leader to take over his operation. Only a few years later he dissolved the group, refining it to a few core members. They became a professional crew specialising in the most dangerous jobs they could find, with big payouts and suicidal odds to match.'

'That fits the bill so far,' Lina confirmed. 'That Silver Coast job was always going to be a one-way trip for him.'

They passed through another set of doors and already Alren could hear the distinctive buzz of the command centre, the soft pealing of terminals and omni-tools, the hum of quiet but direct conversations that he hadn't realised he missed until that moment.

'So no intel on what he was doing before Omega?' asked Lina.

'None whatsoever. As I said, the guy just appeared out of the blue. That alone's been bothering me. Usually people like that have a long history of juvenile records but his past is a complete blank. I don't think he grew up on Omega, that's about all I can tell you.'

They passed through a wide doorway and Arlen paused. The command centre swallowed him for a moment, consuming his senses and his mandibles pulsed as his gaze swept the room.

The sloping ramp before him gave way to the iconic tiers of desks running the circumference of the chamber and at its bottom, the command dais was empty even as its surrounding railing flared with active terminal displays. The main screen at the back of the room was dominated by mugshots of Zwei and his crew. After a long year working in the much more humble Interceptor offices, the sheer activity of JSTF was almost overwhelming.

Lina had stopped a few paces ahead and she allowed Arlen a few moments to take it all in. It wasn't long however before she gently prompted, 'Come on, we don't have much time.'

They didn't descend the ramp, instead veering to the right along the uppermost tier. Straight ahead, past several desks crowded with busy analysts, stood an isolated glass-walled office that overlooked the entire centre. Blinds had been half-shuttered across all the windows, though Arlen could make out several seated figures clustered around a large meeting table within.

Lina halted at the door and looked to Arlen. 'We've pulled in all divisional heads for this. We've been having jurisdictional issues from the very start, so brace yourself.'

Arlen nodded but Lina's casual description couldn't have prepared him for the wall of voices that assailed him as the door opened. He remembered the meeting room from a year ago and it hadn't changed at all since. The elongated rectangular table in the middle was still the only prominent feature, and at each of its longer sides sat three senior C-Sec officers in formal dress blues, all commander in rank and all arguing with one another ferociously.

'I'm sorry to keep you all waiting,' Lina announced as she skirted around them to the head of the table. The rest fell quiet with a clear and strained reluctance.

The only free seat was at the opposite end, directly in front of Arlen. He took it without hesitation, taking the opportunity to survey the room. He recognised the commanders of Enforcement, Investigation and Special Response, all turian. They took up the table to his right while to his left, an asari, a salarian and yet another turian sat, the heads of Network, Patrol and Customs respectively.

Lina settled down and spoke loudly and clearly. 'Thank you all for coming. I'll try to keep this short. As you no doubt know, we have a serious bomb threat in Zakera Ward. The perpetrators of the Silver Coast casino heist have concealed a powerful explosive somewhere in the Ward arm, we don't know where. The details of the device itself are classified but we have a physical description and confirmation that its detonation may destroy the entire Ward, perhaps even the Citadel itself.'

Commander Actis of Enforcement was the first of the group to speak. 'We've got every officer we can spare combing the Ward, but…' He shook his head. 'The search area is enormous. Taking into account every possible street, road, tunnel, alleyway, maintenance shaft, keeper tunnel, broom closet, any of the hundreds of thousands of vents and ducts… And that's not including the Foundations, for which we don't even have complete schematics.'

'We've deployed all our recon drones,' said the Special Response commander. 'Every damn one. It's not enough. We were discussing the possibility of scrambling drone wings from our Patrol colleagues but Commander Ota here has some reservations.'

The salarian, a skinny green-scaled man with large yellow-tinted eyes, raised his voice. 'Again, that's not true and I don't know why you feel the constant need to misquote me. I've already told you all that it's going to take time to recall our vessels and even then, we've been ordered by the executor to stand by for evacuations. Our drones, numerous as they may be, are spread across a hundred ships. It's going to take time to draw them all together and we can't do everything at once. Perhaps if we were as well-funded as Commander Actis here-'

'Here we go again,' Actis complained, throwing up his hands in frustration. 'This is your problem, Ota, it's the same every damn time. You have to turn every discussion into a war over budget allocation.'

'That's easy for you to say-'

Others spoke over Ota, drowning him out in the squabble.

Lina slammed a palm on the table and shouted, 'I can't believe what I'm hearing! I just told you all there is a bomb lying somewhere in Zakera and all you can do is argue with each other like kids! We need a solution here. I didn't want to have to go over any of your heads, that's why you're all here in person, but if you can't even talk to each other then-'

The asari interrupted with a sharp cough. Arlen vaguely recalled her name: Commander T'Rana of Network Division. She was a matron whose skin had purpled slightly, highlighting the leathery complexion of her head ridges. She glared at Lina with naked contempt.

'I remember you,' T'Rana said waspishly. 'You were here a year ago, when Chellick was running the show. He was an arrogant twerp too. So, you think just because the executor slaps a commander badge on that little suit of yours, suddenly you're on the level of people who've busted their asses for decades to get to where they are?'

Arlen watched as Lina's expression shifted behind her helmet, the pale ovals of her eyes sharpening.

'I went through more than you can know to earn my rank, Commander. If you're going to make this personal, then-'

'I think you made it personal a year ago when your people thought they could order us around like a bunch of academy brats.' T'Rana ignored the shock of those around her, keeping her attention firmly on Lina. 'All take and no give, that's how JSTF does things. Little wonder they put a quarian in charge.'

'That's uncalled for!' Commander Actis said, jabbing a finger at T'Rana from across the table as once more, the room exploded into bickering.

Arlen sat back, barely paying attention to the farce. His eyes moved between the commanders, distantly recalling the moment he'd first learned of the inner conflicts within C-Sec, shortly after meeting Garrus Vakarian. This chaos would have mortified him back then but now, he simply stared ahead, lost in thought.

He glanced at one of the attendants who had yet to speak, whom he knew well as the turian leader of Investigation Division, Commander Vantus. Vantus was watching the others cagily, but with a certain tension in his features that Arlen recognised well.

It was fear. The fear that came with being in a situation that one never anticipated, the fear that paralysed the mind and made one withdraw into themselves until the nightmare passed. Arlen had felt that same terror but it was long ago. It had long been scoured from him by pain and heartbreak. The thought brought with it a surge of purpose that broke his malaise.

Arlen stood abruptly, the sharp scrape of his chair breaking up the argument instantly.

'Commander Vantus,' he said quietly, with an intensity that drew the attention of everyone in the room. 'My name is Agent Arlen Kryik, Interceptor. I believe we've met before.'

Vantus nodded but said nothing, allowing Arlen to continue. Arlen cast his eyes over the whole table.

'With respect to you all, none of this matters. We all know it could take days, maybe even weeks to find that bomb. That's time we don't have. I came here for Zwei Jaeger, he's the only chance we have of finding it without having to tear the entire Ward apart. We've got him and his crew in custody right now, all we need to do is get him to confess and all this will be over. That's why I was brought here. I'm going to get that information from him if it's the last thing I do.'

Commander Vantus frowned. 'You're the young man who apprehended Serica Ronn, aren't you? He's sweating in one of our high security cells right now. It's a pity he wasn't with Jaeger when he stashed the bomb, we could've had another avenue of interrogation. Still, we have our own people working on Jaeger and his gang, experienced people.'

'It won't do any good,' Arlen told him, shaking his head. 'Zwei isn't afraid of prison, isn't afraid of pain and certainly isn't afraid of us. Moreover, his crew have never ratted him out, not once in all the years they've been together. They show a kind of loyalty to each other I've rarely seen before, the kind that you just don't see often among criminals. It goes beyond "honour among thieves". Zwei's crew are just as crazy as him. This is all a big game to them just like it is to their boss.'

'So,' Commander T'Rana began, her brow knotted in confusion, 'it sounds unlikely this Zwei character is going to give us anything at all, if he's as unhinged as you say. Do you think he'll turn over the bomb's location to commute his sentence now he's been caught?'

Arlen gave her a hard look. 'No. He's an anarchist, not the kind you see holding up homemade signs at protests over in Tayseri but the real thing. He'll keep us sweating just for the damn fun of it. Maybe he'll consider the option after some time, if he feels we're getting close to finding it but then again, he might not. It's impossible to predict a mind like his. My best guess is he'll probably use the time just to string us along, we can't afford that.'

Actis was next and he cleared his throat before proceeding. 'You clearly know a great deal about this man, Agent Kryik. So how exactly do you suggest we proceed?'

'Commander Lina'Xen here wanted me to head up the interrogation but I knew right off the bat that wasn't going to be enough. I know more than anyone about Zwei. I know his motivations, his behaviour, what makes him tick. I've spent months studying him and I know I'm the only one capable of getting that bomb's location. But he won't tell me, not if he knows who I am.'

Arlen glanced back at Lina. This was going to be a hard sell, especially to his quarian friend, but he knew he had to try. The plan had been forming in his head since Lina had told him of T-Seven's true nature and despite the insanity of it, he'd become increasingly convinced it was their only chance. There was a single opportunity presenting itself here that Arlen couldn't afford to let go, even though what he was about to propose made him sick with fear.

His mouth suddenly dry, Arlen's head dipped for a moment and he took a deep breath. When he raised it again, his gaze was unflinching.

'I'm going to infiltrate the gang, but I can't do it here. I want you to send us to the prison ship Purgatory.'

*Enjoying the story? Please take a moment to Fave, Follow and let me know how you feel with a Review. It really helps to get more people reading and makes this job a whole lot more awesome!*