MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2

*Episode Nine*

Antus gestured for the waiter, a young salarian whose black and white suit marked him out every bit as much as the cloth draped over his arm. Everyone wore suits to that restaurant, of course, even for the light brunches now being served but the diners were almost all employees of the embassies and Presidium stores. Not one politician, and that was by design. Antus didn't want to risk being seen in public with Ambassador Novari, and she likewise.

It certainly wasn't through any sense of shame. That was the furthest thing from his mind as he gazed on her austere beauty over the datapad menu. For an asari, she was hard and steely but all that was soft and sumptuous was exposed only for Antus, and the turian loved her for it.

He smiled as she furrowed her brow, drawing the short lines of silver painted upon them closer together.

'Who wrote this menu?' she complained. 'They have thirteen dishes for volus but only two salads? Do they actually have chefs in the kitchen or are they using the keepers?'

Antus chuckled. 'I don't know, but considering we're trying to go somewhat incognito, perhaps we shouldn't kick up a fuss. We don't have time to find a place in the Wards, after all.'

'Hmm,' Novari mumbled. She scanned her menu for a few moments more before setting it down with a sigh and looking out of the restaurant's open front. 'I suppose it does one no harm to branch out now and again. Seems a waste, though, with my apartment so much closer.'

'We always go to your place,' Antus responded, lowering his own datapad. 'I thought this would make a pleasant change. I know we can't exactly flaunt our relationship but don't you think a semblance of normality would do us some good?'

'I suppose,' Novari said distantly as she turned her attention to inspecting her fingernails.

Antus withheld a sigh. Even the pleasant aromas wafting in from the kitchen and the gentle, unobtrusive atmosphere of the restaurant couldn't keep the disappointment from his voice. 'If you'd rather be somewhere else then I won't stop you leaving.'

Novari gestured dismissively. 'Oh, don't be like that.'

'I'm not "being" like anything,' Antus said, his voice rising slightly. He took a deep breath, knowing that losing his temper wouldn't improve their situation. 'I'm just frustrated. We've been seeing each other for nearly a year now and I'm getting tired of this sneaking around.'

Novari broke her detachment to look at him pointedly. 'You know the alternative.'

'I do,' Antus acknowledged, lowering his eyes, 'and it's the last thing I want, but does that mean I'm not allowed to want more?'

'I can't dictate to you what you should or shouldn't want. It's simply a wasted effort while the fact remains that if we're caught, both our careers will be over.'

Antus shook his head bitterly. He couldn't argue with her, if only because he knew she was right. It wasn't unheard of for diplomats or their staff to form personal relationships, even love with those they met but those unions always came under intense scrutiny. In every case, the perceived conflict of interests would lead to both individuals being moved away from such politically sensitive positions regardless of their intent.

The salarian waiter spoke, startling Antus. 'Are you ready to order, Sir?'

'Just a glass of wine for now, thank you,' he replied. 'The Triginta Petra Eighty-Two.'

The waiter took the order on his omni-tool. 'Excellent choice, Sir. And for you, Ma'am?'

Novari had continued her perusal of the scene outside the restaurant. 'Nevos red, large glass.'

'Very good.'

The waiter departed swiftly, perhaps sensing the mood at the table. Antus felt irritation stir not only at Novari's emotional distance, but also his own reaction to it. He couldn't tell if he was annoyed with her for her reticence, or she'd only grown so in response to him.

It almost made Antus hesitate when he reached under the table into his pocket and slipped an OSD under the napkin in front of him. Novari caught the movement and immediately, her eyes sparkled with interest.

'Antus,' she whispered in surprise, glancing askance to make sure no one was looking. 'You didn't say you had more for me last night!'

Antus smiled weakly. 'Only just came in this morning. High-level meeting with one of the admirals, you'll certainly want to hear it.'

He now had Novari's full attention and she looked into his eyes as her hand subtly slid the OSD towards her. 'I hope you didn't take too great a risk?'

'Not at all,' he replied with a quiet scoff. 'The old man is oblivious as always. Anyway, you know you're all I care about. The more I help you do your job, the sooner we can be together, right?'

Once the disk was safely tucked away in her dress, Novari reached out to place a hand on his. Her thumb ran over the back of his fingers, the tender gesture undoing all of Antus' previous bad mood.

'Of course,' she told him. 'We're getting close now, I can feel it. And I'm sorry if I seem withdrawn, there's a lot going on right now. Between this Silean Nebula business and the human councillor's inauguration, I also have Matriarch Lidanya breathing down my neck about the captain of the Kanderax. Apparently, he's quite the controversial figure.'

'Funny you should mention that,' Antus said with a grin. His gaze wandered down to where Novari had stashed the OSD and she laughed quietly in response.

'Now I can't wait to hear it,' she giggled.

It was a sound few others would ever hear from her and once more, Antus was taken back to thinking how lucky he was to be one of them. There were few things in the galaxy that made one feel so special as being someone to whom their loves revealed a hidden side of themselves.

It was a warm feeling that Antus held close as the waiter returned with their wine, and the turian knew he'd continue to do whatever it took to assure he would spend the rest of his days in Novari's company.

~~~ME-I2~~~

The violence of Purgatory was such that Arlen was unsurprised that his earlier scuffle had barely raised an eyebrow throughout the prison. In fact, he silently berated himself for thinking it would as he walked with Zwei to the other side of the yard from where the inmates who'd attacked him were being hauled to their feet by irate Blue Suns. In a place where the walls themselves screamed in anguish, it was foolish to think anything as banal as a physical assault would get anyone's attention.

No one in the yard had broken their stride, with a steady stream of prisoners trickling back and forth to bring their breakfasts to the tables or take away empty trays. Arlen's gaze didn't linger on anyone too long as he tried to keep up with Zwei.

A path cleared for the human without the need for words. The rest of the population knew to stay well clear, which only made his crew stand out all the more as they lazed about the table at the farthest end of the hall. Arlen saw Madsen nod towards Zwei and himself, and he took a deep breath to prepare himself.

'There's someone I didn't expect to see still walking,' Madsen said, dipping his head to Arlen as they neared.

'More than you can say for that lot,' Zwei responded, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction they came. 'Riko Pavek here's a bit of a shit-kicker, isn't he?'

Arlen folded his arms, saying nothing. He ran through everything he could be asked in his mind, cementing every detail he could. This was the very last way to go about an undercover role and he knew it. Best practice was to create a persona as an extension of oneself, falling back on real experiences to minimise inconsistencies in one's cover. Posing as a real person could go wrong in any number of ways. All it took was for someone to recall an anecdote or past job with Pavek and if Arlen couldn't make his response believable, his life would be measured in seconds.

The turian, Tuvio, sat on the table, his legs planted on the bench as he hunched over his knees. His gravelled voice was edged with disdain. 'Pavek, huh? I heard you were taking down scores in the Traverse. Long way from home ain't ya?'

'Not my choice,' Arlen said with a shrug. 'I got pinched working a job out on the border. Alliance patrol. Guess they thought it was cheaper to send me here than ship me all the way over to turian space. Surprised they didn't just put a slug in my head. Guess they're saving all their ammo for the geth these days. Crazy times out in the Traverse.'

The story could hardly be verified while they were in Purgatory. If they broke out, that was another matter, but Arlen could only cross that bridge when he came to it.

Madsen nodded. 'You got that right. I got a cousin out in the colonies, a marine. He says if it ain't batarians, it's synthetics. Total chaos. If a colony ain't burnin' down it's disappearing from the face of the galaxy.'

'That's a load of crap,' Tuvio interjected, turning to his counterpart. 'I heard the rumours and nobody's kidnapping nobody. It's slavers, same as always.'

Zwei ignored them and Tuvio hopped down from the table to give his boss a seat. Zwei's cold eyes moved in his bony face, drifting up and down Arlen in quiet appraisal as he mimicked Tuvio's previous position.

'It ain't the Traverse I care about,' he said, stabbing a finger down into his knee for emphasis. 'It's here. It's now. If the Alliance sent you here, that means they ain't bothered when or if you get out. So long as they keep paying the warden, you're here for good. Now, you're a tough sod, Pavek. I heard that much about you. But the way you came in here, chucking your fists about like that.' He smiled that unsettling grin again. 'Good fun, but it says to me one thing - that you're not planning on being here long. I wanna know whether that's because you're aiming to get killed, or get out.'

Arlen snorted. 'You think the best way to escape is for me to get the eyes of every guard in the place on me?'

'If they're on you, they ain't elsewhere,' Zwei replied. He pointed at the upper walkways. 'And the only way you're getting out is up there, not down here.'

Arlen felt an odd chill at Zwei's quick deduction. There was definitely a sharp intelligence to the man's gaze that Arlen hadn't been able to pick up on in the mugshots or security footage, a cunning that made the human seem infinitely more dangerous. It reinforced something that had almost been forgotten in the madness of the last twenty-four hours; that the very last thing Arlen could afford to do was underestimate his target.

He blinked in surprise but it was a natural reaction and Zwei clearly expected no less. Arlen knew the conversation was going in the right direction and he sought to direct it further as he bobbed his head slowly.

'All right, yeah. I might have a guy in the Blue Suns, a friend. Could be that some systems might fail at some point soon, open up some gaps in security.'

Zwei leaned forward. 'Gaps that lead right to the shuttle bay, I'll bet?'

'Maybe,' Arlen confirmed with a subtle grin.

Zwei considered what was said. He looked about the yard to see if anyone had drifted within earshot while his fingers twitched, clutching at the thick material of his jumpsuit.

'What are your plans if you get out?' he finally asked.

'Make a break for Omega,' Arlen answered casually. 'Lie low for a while, find some work. I can't go back out to the Traverse for a while but I still gotta eat.' He recalled the hellish time he'd spent on the Terminus station the year before, and the names he'd learned while there. 'Maybe see if Aria T'Loak's organisation is hiring, who knows?'

'Yeah, I bet she'd love a violent little bastard like you,' Zwei cackled. 'If she didn't kill you first.'

'A risk I'll have to take. Ain't like I got many options out here.'

Zwei looked down thoughtfully. 'I don't know about that. Could be that if we found ourselves in Omega at the same time, we might be able to chuck some work your way. Bit risky, mind you.'

'Ain't it always?'

Arlen's response was calm, hiding his inner triumph. He hadn't truly believed that he would be able to reach this point so quickly, but now the opportunity was there he had no choice but to take it. The stakes were too high to ignore.

Nodding slowly, Zwei stared at him. It was like the cutting edge of a knife, worming its way under Arlen's skin.

'Okay then, Ricky-boy. Let's make it clear. You get me and the lads out, plus two ladies, a turian and an asari. We know where they're being kept. You make that happen and we'll sort you out when we get to Omega. I've always got a couple of jobs lined up, stuff that'll suit a bloke like you down to the ground. Maybe after that we go our separate ways, maybe we don't. We'll see.'

This was it. Arlen was about to agree when Tuvio cut in.

'You sure about this, Boss? He ain't a-'

Tuvio fell silent, a pause so sudden it made Arlen frown. Zwei seemed to understand and he looked at his man while gesturing to Arlen.

'Yeah, I know he don't exactly fit with our usual recruitment policy, but I reckon he's got enough to make up for it. In the short term, at least, till we get back on our feet.'

Arlen didn't have time to ponder the strange exchange before Zwei turned back to him.

'So, what do you say, Ricky? You in?'

As friendly as the offer appeared, Arlen could see from the twisted light in Zwei's eyes that it wasn't one to be refused. It was just as well that Arlen's path had no branching routes, no alternative ways to his destination. Just as a year ago, he was being carried by the currents of fate and could only let them bear him to wherever that river ended.

He made no obvious sign to any onlookers, no offer to shake Zwei's hand or nod of agreement. He simply said in a low voice, 'When the shit hits the fan, we all meet up here outside our cells. I'll try and make sure we're all in one place but no guarantees. I'll wait no more than a minute, I can't spare any longer.'

If it were possible, Zwei's grin grew even wider, a hideous sickle across his jaw.

'You're an interesting sort, Ricky. Good thing, too. I ain't the type to sit quietly if I'm bored.'

Arlen sensed the threat behind the words but said nothing. He walked away, filled with a mix of elation and stone cold fear as he made his way back to his cell.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Lina didn't bother turning her office light on. There was no time even for that. She made straight for her desk, her terminal creating an orb of orange against the shadow as it responded to her presence. She keyed a button as she sat straight in her chair, folding her hands together as Executor Pallin appeared on the holographic display.

'Commander,' he greeted formally. He was expecting the call and he waited for Lina to speak.

'Executor,' Lina acknowledged with a respectful dip of her helmet. 'Have you received the report?'

'Yes, and thank you for contacting me so quickly. It's good to see you able to respond so promptly in the face of all this insanity.'

'It's my job, Sir.'

Pallin laughed quietly. It was something he didn't do often. 'Of course. Just make sure you and your team get the rest you need, you're approaching the twenty-four hour mark.'

'Senior Analyst Da'Nante is doing just that, Sir. She'll be covering while the staff rotates. Things should be relatively calm for the next few hours and everyone knows the drill if any of the other divisions find the T-Seven.'

'Yes, the T-Seven,' Pallin murmured. 'The report states that all divisions have allocated resources to the search but considering the reality on the ground, it doesn't seem like enough.'

Lina shook her head. 'I wish it were simpler, Sir. Patrol are always spread thin and Commander Ota is right, they might have more drones than anyone else but they're spread throughout the fleet. Commanders Actis and Vantus are sparing all the personnel they can but they can't just stop policing the station. We're caught between the need to keep this bomb a secret from the public and getting as many people out there as possible to look for it. If half the officers in the Citadel are pulled into Zakera, people are going to know something's up.'

It was all a statement of the obvious and Lina didn't need to be told Pallin knew all of this already. Still, it had to be reinforced and with every hour that passed, it felt like Arlen was fast becoming their only hope.

Pallin nodded. 'We're standing by to evacuate key personnel. It's a step we wanted to avoid but there are too many unknowns here. For all we know, a civilian has already found the bomb case and opened it, and all this could be for nothing.'

'That's the worst part, Sir,' Lina agreed.

Pallin took a moment to think. Perhaps simply stating the worst case scenario aloud had affected even the staid old man, but it didn't take him long to compose himself. 'What's the latest from Purgatory?'

Lina's fingers began to massage each other anxiously, though Pallin couldn't see the telltale gesture.

'Agent Kryik has made contact with Jaeger's crew and so far, things seem to be going better than expected. No doubt they'll do some checking up on him once they're out of the prison but we've got everything in hand.'

'I don't like this,' Pallin murmured, 'but it's not like we have any options. This Jaeger character sounds like the very last person we want to hold the location of the T-Seven. I've seen a lot of criminals in my time but this man is one of the worst breed of psychopath. I agree with Agent Kryik's assessment that conventional interrogation would only have wasted time.'

'Time we don't have, Sir.'

'Indeed.' Pallin shifted in his chair, making his projection waver. 'Still, even with this foolhardy plan of his, it sounds like he's making good progress. We have to remember his goal here isn't the long term gathering of evidence like a normal undercover op. It's to get the location of the T-Seven. Jaeger will either have to retrieve it himself or send one of his crew to get it.'

'Perhaps we should let him, Sir? At least it'll be off the Citadel.'

Pallin shook his head vigorously. 'And it'll likely end up on Omega. If a turian WMD falls into pirate hands or worse, goes off on the biggest space station in the Terminus Systems, that'll be the next worst scenario. We need that bomb in our possession as soon as possible, Commander. There are no acceptable alternatives.'

'Understood, Sir.'

'And what about you?'

Lina blinked, confused. 'What about me, Sir?'

'How are you holding up?'

She considered the question, only glad for the double protection of the helmet and the flaky comm signal that together masked all physical signs of the fear she'd felt since Pallin mentioned Arlen. It had been a constant struggle to keep her mind focused purely on the situation at hand and not the despair at seeing her friend in such a destructive state. Her resolve waxed and waned, and at this moment she wanted to weep. Still, she kept her voice strong, for the executor and for herself.

'I'll be fine, Sir. I just need a little rest, as you said.'

'Have you tracked down any more leads on Crimson Fist?'

That too gave Lina pause, but for an entirely different reason. The OSDs they'd recovered from Molach's apartment had been stolen from a crime scene, conduct she knew Pallin would be incensed by. She was fond of the old turian but he was every bit the exemplar of his species' culture of law and honour. He would never forgive anyone, not even JSTF, for breaking the law and if he knew half of what had happened during the Forgotten Legion crisis he would fire her on the spot.

There was also the matter of a potential leak within C-Sec. She wished she could find some kind of vindication in having her earlier suspicions confirmed but there was no satisfaction in knowing a traitor was working against them. That too would have to wait until they had solid evidence to provide the executor, preferably evidence that wouldn't also place her team in the firing line.

Aware that Pallin was still waiting, Lina rushed to answer. 'Not yet, Sir. We're working with Investigation as best we can but it's still too early to say. We do know Molach had a turian accomplice, though he's proving difficult to track. We should know more over the course of the day, we've got our best analysts on it.'

'Good. There's also another concern.' Pallin hesitated, another unusual thing to see from him. 'The political ramifications of the T-Seven theft are even more dire than what General Victus was willing to discuss. With the humans joining the Council, the balance of power is shifting. I've never been one to hide my unease over how quickly humanity has gained influence on the galactic stage but now we're in a position where even the asari and salarians are watching closely to see how the Hierarchy are reacting.'

He paused once more, his difficulty in broaching the topic oddly disturbing to Lina. The man had not only given her a future outside the bleak prospect of a Migrant Fleet exile, but had done so in spite of all the prejudices and stigmas that came with her people. Pallin had overlooked it all to see Lina's worth, as a professional and as a person, and if there was one person in the galaxy who she could look on as a mentor it was him.

The executor's voice was as grave as Lina had ever heard. 'We're caught between secrecy and immediacy. We don't have any room for mistakes here. Galactic stability is always on a knife's edge, the balance of political power always more fragile than people believe. The Council is more a symbol than anything else. It's there to show that we're stronger when we work together, but the reality is that every species works against each other in subtle ways. Most of all, we battle against ourselves. That hard truth is what Crimson Fist wants to expose. If we allow that to happen, that frail notion of peace will be shattered.'

'I know that better than anyone, Sir,' Lina replied softly. 'The quarians were cast out of the Citadel for creating the geth. Whatever illusions we had of any sense of galactic community were destroyed that day. We needed the help of the Council but it was denied, and billions of my people died as a result. We know the score. If you make a mistake, there is little forgiveness and those you once called friends are all too quick to turn their backs on you.'

'That's the unfortunate reality. It's one that we turians may have to face if the truth of the T-Seven is ever known.'

Lina didn't have to be sold on the Council's hypocrisy, nor on the fickleness of galactic goodwill. She sensed these were to be Pallin's final words on the subject and lowered her head.

'I won't let you down, Sir.'

He nodded once. 'I know you won't. Before I let you go, there's one more thing.'

'Sir?'

Pallin appeared to relax again. 'Though the Council isn't fully aware of the more classified details of the T-Seven, they have deemed that this situation may require a Spectre to be assigned to the hunt. To maximise our options, you understand.'

The air caught in Lina's lungs. The last time a Spectre was involved in their operations it didn't turn out too well.

'Will we be expected to follow this Spectre's orders?' she asked warily.

To her relief, Pallin shook his head. 'You know how I feel about Spectres. I made my feelings on the subject clear to the Council and they agreed that if assigned, their operative will carry out a separate investigation where possible. It'll be an intel-sharing relationship, nothing more.'

Lina dipped her helmet. 'Thank you, Sir.'

'Of course. Dismissed, Commander.'

Lina closed her terminal, released a long held breath. Her mouth lamp was a single, pale blue disc in the dark as she digested what Pallin had confided. His fear of the political consequences had been laid out for her alone, as one old friend to another. She knew then, as she thought of him but more so of Arlen, that she didn't want the turians to face the fate of her own people so long ago.

~~~ME-I2~~~

'We live in a universe of infinite danger,' Kaion said, 'and we need to align ourselves with those whom we can respect, not love. The asari have neither for us, remember that, Ambassador. Remember that when they come to you with complaints of me, and consider instead what the salarians and our new human compatriots think. I daresay the human ambassador, Mister Udina, holds a very different view of my proposals to take the fight to the batarians.'

'And this is where the reality of my world supersedes yours,' Ciro stated flatly. 'That reality being that until the humans rival the asari in wealth and territory, until they can assert more influence throughout Council space, we must be concerned first and foremost with the most powerful faction in the galaxy.'

Novari listened to the recording with a broad smile. It wasn't one of real satisfaction, not yet anyway. Nothing had yet been gained that she didn't already know, or hadn't guessed at. It was simple amusement that the famously stoic turians could break their disciplined mask so easily when the eyes of others weren't on them. The bug Antus had planted already paid for itself.

Her office was always quiet in the later hours of the morning. The Presidium's day cycle had begun a few hours ago but the aroma of fresh coffee and breakfast still floated into the room from the various bars and restaurants right up until they began their preparations for the lunchtime crowd.

Novari had grown too used to such simple things to get any pleasure from them. Instead, her stimulation came from planning the myriad meetings that would take place in the coming hours, plotting her manipulations and tacts well in advance. After so many centuries spent in politics it was seldom that her appointments didn't go exactly as she foresaw, but when it happened, more often than not it was a pleasant surprise. The only exception being Ciro Tessarius.

Even now as she listened to the turian ambassador's conflict with Admiral Kaion play out, her feelings were mixed. A part of her wanted to be the one to break through that self-congratulatory manner of his, to be the one to outwit him on his own battlefield, but victory was all that mattered and this kind of insight into the inner workings of turian politics brought her immeasurably closer to that goal.

As the noise of the commuting crowds grew louder outside her balcony, Novari opened a new secure message on her terminal and spoke in a low voice.

'Huntress. I'm forwarding over the latest acquisition. Let me know if any ideas spring to mind. In the meantime I'll have your access to our servers granted. Use them well.'

Next, she keyed her intercom.

'Eris, come here.'

It took only moments for Eris to enter, her girlish frame already displaying the nauseatingly obvious signs of timidity that seemed to permeate her. Novari was unable to keep the disgust entirely from her tone.

'I've sent you the details of a very important user. Ensure that she has full remote access to the diplomatic servers.'

Eris would've frowned if she'd had the nerve, instead making a helpless face that brought Novari's blood to a boil.

'B-but Mistress,' the maiden stuttered, 'I need to complete an authorisation request and seek approval from Thessia. I can't just-'

'Push a button?' Novari sneered. 'Yes, I suppose you've already proven that even such basic tasks are beyond you. Has it crossed your small mind that I deal with agents vital to our security? Whose presence on this station could be compromised by going through usual channels?'

Novari was only grateful that her assistant was too meek and snivelling to ask why she didn't grant Huntress full access herself. Of course it wasn't procedure and Novari would be damned if anything could be traced back to her when she had others on whom the blame could fall if anything went wrong.

Eris seemed to quail further under Novari's rebuke. She hung her head miserably.

'Y-yes, of course, Mistress,' she said faintly. 'I'll do it right away, I'm sorry.'

Novari didn't reply, not wanting to keep the girl in her presence a moment longer than necessary. As the office door closed once more, she pursed her lips in annoyance. While she loathed the weak creature, there was at least some use she could get out of her.

As the ambassador's long fingers tapped on her desk, she went over the growing concern of Admiral Kaion again, piecing together a picture of him in her mind. She now knew that even the turians were struggling to keep the incendiary officer in line and while on the surface it seemed a boon to have their upper echelons so flustered, she also knew men like Kaion were dangerous even beyond their own abilities.

He was an unknown and unpredictable player in the game, one over whom Novari could exert little to no influence. That always frightened her more than anything else.

~~~ME-I2~~~

It was the waiting that made Arlen nervous. He had nothing to do but lie in his wretched bed, eyes wide and twitching. They passed over the ceiling of his cell repeatedly, seeing nothing. All he knew was at any moment, something would happen, though he didn't really know what.

A part of him was shocked at how quickly he'd grown used to the tortured atmosphere of Purgatory, the ever present screams that seemed every bit as part of the ship as the thrum of the engines now disturbingly familiar. He could only wonder how the place affected those who worked there, if there was any compassion left in those Blue Suns who manned the walkways. He imagined that if it only took him a day to grow desensitised to it all, those who'd been there for years must have been as cold and heartless as the mechs patrolling the corridors.

Arlen blinked slowly. He was exhausted. Between his ordeal with Serica Ronn and his henchman, to his journey to Purgatory, he hadn't slept in a long time. Even now, fatigue threatened to take him. His body ached, begging him to let it rest and it was an enormous effort to close out the urge.

A knock sounded from the cell above him, snapping his eyelids wide open instinctively. He listened in the dark, straining. Was it the start of Petra's assault on Purgatory's systems or just another inmate seeking to end his existence by dashing his head against the wall? Arlen waited but nothing more came, and he settled once more. It was getting beyond difficult to stay awake. Everytime he was alerted it got harder and harder to refocus his senses.

In that black hole his mind wandered. He thought of Lina, wondering if JSTF were still listening in to the transmissions from his covert subdermals. In a brief second of despair, he couldn't help but question if there was even a Citadel anymore, if the T-Seven had detonated and everyone he had left was now dead.

He closed down that line of thought, daring to close his eyes. He squeezed them shut so hard it hurt.

Then it came.

A colossal groan came from outside the cell, the sound of hundreds, perhaps thousands of machines shutting down all at once. Then an alarm sounded, a panicked drone supplemented by a loud voice, though Arlen couldn't hear what it was saying. He did however recognise the voice as Warden Kuril's.

The shouts came next. Prisoners began to yell and bang on the bulkheads, a rising tide of noise that Arlen knew was meant to taunt the guards. In just a few moments, the entire prison started to smell blood. It gave Arlen no pleasure. It was the sound of pure, feral bloodlust. It terrified him.

He rose from the bed in anticipation and jogged lightly on the spot, rolling his shoulders and neck. He didn't know what would happen in the next few minutes but he needed to be ready. He worked the sluggishness from his limbs, the pumping blood waking up his shattered mind, if only for a little while longer.

As if on cue, his cell door whined in protest as it was forced upon. Arlen took a step forward and his lips parted in fearful awe at the scene that greeted him.

The yard outside was filled with baying inmates. Every cell in the block must have opened because everyone was there. They hollered and screamed at the Blue Suns on the walkways above, who had their weapons trained nervously on the crowd below. Dim red emergency lights bathed the hall in a macabre, bloody glow that fit the mood well.

Arlen willed himself to step outside. As he did, he felt the danger like prickling electricity in the air.

Warden Kuril's voice again sounded over the prison's loudspeakers. 'Attention. All inmates are to return to their cells immediately. Lethal force will be authorised if you do not comply.'

No one was listening. Arlen glanced to his right, where two Blue Suns guarded a door at ground level, the access point to the next cell block. Even from a distance, Arlen could see they were on the verge of panic as they pointed their rifles at the growing ring of prisoners closing in on them, kept at bay only by the certainty of death if they charged.

Other details caught his eye. The huge robotic arms used to transport the cells were rotating in place, their claws opening and closing at random. They'd gone completely haywire and Arlen knew Petra was doing her work. Purgatory was completely at her mercy.

A hand gripped his arm and Arlen tensed, turning to see who it was as he raised a balled fist.

It was Madsen. Zwei's man seemed equal parts excited and terrified as he gestured about the yard. 'Can you believe this? The whole place is shut down! All we need is for someone to have the balls to rush the guards and we'll own this prison!'

Arlen didn't relax but he lowered his fist. 'Where's Zwei?'

Madsen nodded beyond Arlen, in the direction of the exit door. 'He's waiting. Come on, let's get out of here.'

They made their way through the yard, the dark pits of the open cells on one side and the braying mass of prisoners on the other. Arlen hadn't felt this helpless in a long time. It brought back memories of Torkessa District on Omega, a warzone of such savagery that he could still smell the piles of vorcha dead lining the streets. He remembered that almost physical presence of violence hanging above him. It was a dangerous air that incited bloody action all on its own.

He spotted the sheer white of Zwei's spiked hair from some way off. The human was leaning against the frame of a cell door, his arms folded carelessly as he watched the prisoners walk past him to join the others in jeering the nearby guards. Tuvio was with him, muttering something to his boss.

Zwei's eyes locked onto Arlen as he approached and he called out, 'Gotta hand it to ya, Ricky, this is quite a show you've put on.' He straightened and drew closer to Arlen, lowering his voice. 'So that's it, then? All cells open, locks unlocked, screws pissing themselves?'

'If by that you mean the guards are vulnerable,' Arlen replied, 'then yes. Everything on this ship is open. That includes the other cell blocks, though we'll need to access prisoner records to find the rest of your friends.'

Zwei's eyes lit up and he gave that sinister grin that Arlen had quickly grown to hate. He glanced about, his sick gaze lingering on the increasingly bold inmates surrounding them.

'Purgatory's just one big powder keg,' he said. 'All we need is a spark.'

Arlen's stomach sank as he watched Zwei turn to the pair of guards at the cell block door. He strode through the loose crowd towards them, Tuvio and Madsen in tow. Arlen was forced to follow.

He always knew this part of his plan would be the most dangerous but it'd been impossible to truly prepare himself for it. Everything was unknown, the odds of success always slim. He knew Petra was watching and the AI would give them all the advantages she could, but he was now in the realms of such immense unpredictability that the only way Petra could truly assure their success was if she could tell the future. Arlen's blood felt like it was thinning in his veins, dizziness and nausea threatening as the mood of the yard shifted.

Zwei approached the door guards and the prisoners around him cheered. There was still a space of several metres between them and the Blue Suns, one of whom was almost delirious as the barrel of his rifle swept across the line of inmates before him.

'Get that door open now!' he yelled to his comrade.

'I can't, it's jammed or something. Nothing's working, I can't even raise control on comms!'

'Hack the damn thing if you have to, we stay anoth-' The guard paused to jab his rifle at someone who'd taken a step out of line. 'Stay back! One more step and I'll put you all down, I swear!'

Zwei eased his way to the front of the crowd. He was still smiling as he spread his arms.

'Ain't this a lovely get-together? You boys should really join us more often!'

The second guard muttered to the first loudly enough for Arlen to overhear. 'Kinetic bubbles are offline, my omni-tool can't even access the system. It's sabotage, has to be!'

Zwei cocked his head. 'Not looking good, is it, boys? How do you rate your chances against all of us?'

Arlen saw the naked horror in the Blue Sun, despite the helmet hiding his features. His every movement was shaky and weak, his weapon rattling in his grip.

'You try anything and I'll shoot you all dead!' the guard shouted.

With genuine interest in his cold eyes, Zwei tilted back his head, judging the man in front of him.

'Let's see.'

Arlen put a hand to his face as a blast of wind hit him. No, not wind. It was a shockwave of pure force. Zwei wasn't there anymore, just a rich blue mist streaking out, following the human's form that was now a writhing fire of biotic dark energy.

Arlen's jaw dropped as Zwei burst forward like a living bullet, so fast that the guards didn't have time to pull their triggers before they were hurled back like they weighed nothing. They slammed against the wall, armour cracking with the force of impact.

The biotic field still wreathed Zwei, turning everything that was white a shimmering blue. His hair danced wildly and his grin was now inhuman. He picked up one of the guards' rifles, tossing it to Tuvio before snatching up the other for himself.

He stood over the first guard, whose breath wheezed from his helmet in gasping fits. Zwei's expression didn't change as he put two rounds into the man's head, painting the bulkhead with blood.

As one, the prisoners roared their approval and, as if by magic, the door suddenly opened. The inmates surged through, some chanting Zwei's name as they thundered past. The gunshots had sparked a chain reaction and now guards could be heard opening fire all around.

Madsen clapped Arlen on the shoulder as he congratulated Zwei but Arlen couldn't join in their celebration. Even the sensation of imminent threat that had dogged him since leaving his cell seemed to disappear as he gazed upon the red-spattered weapon in Zwei's hand.

In spite of the necessity of his actions, of the danger still present on the distant Citadel, Arlen couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.

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