NOTE1: Hello, folks! This chapter came faster because I was working on it in parallel to Ch 27. I hope you will enjoy it. I wanted to add more, make it a 20k chapter, but I realized I will not be able to update until new year and I decided to …leave you on the precipice of action :D I hope I don't have any major mistakes slipped by. I will return tomorrow to apply fixes if I notice some after I check the published content.
NOTE2: Link to the map I had prepared for ILLIUM FREEDOM, but FanFic screws links; replace dot with the actual character: imgur dot com/a/F6s9Vhh
NOTE3: Galaxy map for The Iron Heart of Man, to be updated in the future: imgur dot com/a/bBx4EEW
Chapter 28: Delicate Sound Of Thunder
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster himself. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
(Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil)
Citadel, Presidium
Hierarchy Embassy
Ambassador Quentius' office
Nihlus was welcomed at the Hierarchy Embassy by the ambassador himself. The diplomat was in his usual formal attire while Nihlus was covered in his body armor, minus the helmet. Almost every time when he left the SPECTREs HQ he would wear his armor. And, considering the current climate on the station and the job he did for Quentius, he had more reasons to believe he caught the attention of the wrong people. A SPECTRE, in whatever it gets involved, is a huge advantage for the side it favors. And Nihlus was a big target for new enemies.
"Thank you for helping us, SPECTRE," Quentius expressed the formal gratitude as they approached his office. "The Hierarchy will not forget this."
Nihlus walked shoulder to shoulder with Quentius. "It was my duty to the Hierarchy," he was modest. "And it helps us get one step closer to the actual problem," he added.
"We are already dealing with the actual problem," Quentius threw him a bone. When Nihlus turned his head to look at him, the diplomat added, "…we will talk in my office. C-SEC or anybody gave you any problems after it?"
As the office door came into view, Nihlus gave his answer. "I have been stalked by C-SEC the past days. General surveillance. Nothing that could be qualified as bothersome. They let me know they have their eyes on me."
The door to Quentius' office opened. Quentius was the first to step in, immediately followed by Nihlus. Inside, two other Turians were present. Both were in civilian clothes and looked like they were waiting for him. Nihlus stopped and analyzed them for two moments. Nothing struck him as extraordinary about the two. In fact, he barely recognized Flavian.
"SPECTRE Kryik," Flavian acknowledged his precence, "thank you for coming."
"I assume this is important," Nihlus said. "Otherwise, Ambassador Quentius wouldn't have contacted me directly again."
"Make yourselves as comfortable as you can," Quentius invited them. "The office is secured against any sort of espionage or surveillance."
Nihlus looked at the unknown Turian before he even sat down. "Who are you?" he simply asked him to identify.
"A friend," the other Turian answered.
"A friend?" Nihlus echoed.
"A friend in need," the unknown re-iterated. "I believe we can help each other, and save many lives in the process."
Nihlus looked unsure at the man. By voice, he seemed young enough, in his prime. "Cut the crap," he ordered. "I don't have time for games." He shifted his gaze to Flavian. "And what does the Hierarchy want now? Any progress?"
Flavian put his right hand on the still unidentified Turian's shoulder. "This is Archangel – Hierarchy Intelligence agent on the Citadel in the investigation on Executor Venari Pallin and Councilor Tavus Sparatus."
Nihlus looked at Archangel, waiting for him to say something. "Thank you for getting that prisoner to the Hierarchy, SPECTRE. I've lost a comrade when we tried to disrupt their operations," Archangel said.
The SPECTRE now faced Quentius, anger visible in his eyes as he engaged in dialogue with the diplomat. "You've told me this was to help the investigation on what we've discovered in the Terminus all those years ago! Not that I'll be thrown into politics!"
"Calm down, SPECTRE," Flavian advised. "Ambassador Quentius is only the mediator here." Flavian grabbed a chair and placed it right by Nihlus' side. "Sit down. We have to talk."
"I think I'm done talking. I've tried that tactic for the past years and nobody's been listening to me."
Flavian looked impassive at Nihlus. "Let me give you a brief rundown on what we have on our hands right now. Whatever the hell you came across in the Terminus back-"
"More like they came after us, the Collectors," Nihlus felt the need to clarify.
"Whatever!" Flavian raised his hands in the air. "Right now, the Collectors are only pawns to their masters. Just like we have good reason, backed with evidence, to believe that Sparatus is also a pawn of these Collectors' masters. As is Saren!"
When his mentor's name was mentioned… Nihlus could not let Saren's name be associated with such vile creatures. "Saren Arterius is among the most trustworthy Turians I've ever met! He's served the Hierarchy for as long as he existed. You dare think he'd betray it?" he demanded from Flavian.
"In his mind… he probably thinks he's still serving the Hierarchy," Archangel chimed in.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Nihlus demanded.
"Exactly what it appears to mean. Saren's mind is no longer his. He might as well not have a free will of his own. He's just another person who fell in the trap set by those who want us gone."
"Who wants us gone?"
"The Reapers," Archangel answered.
Nihlus was puzzled. "What in the Spirits' name is a Reaper?" he inquired.
"We don't know," Flavian intervened. "We have rough ideas. Remember Jartar?" he asked looking Nihlus directly in the eyes. All this time Quentius assisted impassively, absorbing the information. He had been briefed to a certain degree on what was going on.
"The Leviathan of Dis? Of course I do," Nihlus answered. "It was the talk of the day before it became conspiracy theory."
"What do you remember about it?" Flavian continued.
"Some explorers discovered a strange looking structure on Jartar, seemingly a ship of an impossible size that looked more advanced than anything."
"That thing was a Reaper," Archangel added. "That two kilometer long monster. And we're better off with it gone."
Nihlus' mind was racing at the speed of electric impulses traversing the neuronal pathways as he thought of what was. "And? Where did it go? What weapon was used to leave such a scar on the planet?"
Flavian exchanged looks with Archangel first, then with Quentius. The ambassador gave a single nod in approval. The advisor turned back to Nihlus. "The Humans destroyed it."
"The… you mean we've been passing by each other for all those years? What did they know?" the SPECTRE voiced his curiosity.
"Fate is an interesting thing," Quentius mentioned. "If you believe in such things."
"A bit of luck, a bit of fate… lots of bodies," Flavian noted. "The Systems Alliance has shared with us all they know on the subject. They have been investigating and fighting these Reapers for more than twenty years. You will receive a full briefing before leaving this door," Flavian assured him.
"How?"
"The enemy's favorite method is to infiltrate galactic society through brainwashed sleeper agents. When the time is right, and if the sleeper agent hasn't compromised itself or gone feral, they use them to sabotage the civilizations just before they strike," the advisor explained. "They've been doing it for who knows how long. They killed off the Protheans. And now they are coming after us. We also believe that the Humans' strike at Jartar was an unexpected turn of events. That …Reaper was supposed to be discovered, I assume, and brainwash the people that work on it. That plan foiled… they need other agents and means of… indoctrination," he rolled the word in an unusual manner off his tongue.
"How does Saren and Spar-… ah…" he caught up with Flavian's reasoning. "And they went out to either investigate this… disturbance of their plans through the Collectors?"
"Most likely," Archangel confirmed. "Considering how close the attack on Jartar and the attack on your patrol are on the time table… well, let's say that it would not surprise me if it wasn't a coincidence."
"And use it to lure people in the Terminus to investigate…" Nihlus continued Archangel's line of thought. "And brainwash them?"
"Most likely. And, through the brainwashed, see what is out there that has them on their toes."
"Saren investigated my claims, what I, Wrex and Inira recounted after we escaped the Collectors… they let us escape so they can lure higher profile people through us," Nihlus' anger rose as it seemed to make sense now. Pieces were tying to each other so well. "How do you know I was not brainwashed?"
Flavian pulled Nihlus' most recent examination file. "We've had the Alliance confirm it for us. You are clean. If I am honest… there are traces of indoctrination there in your brain. But it is no cause for concern. You haven't been exposed long enough."
"Do you honestly believe Saren was brainwashed? And that he somehow got it to the Citadel, too?" he asked.
"Yes," was the succinct double answer the two Vakarians gave him. "Primarch Fedorian became suspicious of some medical files… his suspicions are much more distressing than what anyone would have thought. We have to purge the Hierarchy of them," Flavian continued.
"And? How will you do it?"
"Well, they have their own agenda, don't they? They are already trying to maneuver their way into power," the elder Vakarian explained. "So we will allow them to rise. Not where they want to rise, not where they want to grow, but where we want them to. And then, when they finally make their move, put a quick end to them."
Going public with this sort of information was very risky, Nihlus thought. Otherwise this wouldn't be even happening. It had to go down like this. How stupid, how frustrating it was. To play cat and mouse in the shadows as the household tends to its daily whereabouts. To want to tell the people, but that would make it even worse at this moment in time.
"We have to catch Saren if we want it to not be in vain," Archangel's voice filled the room. "As long as he is free he will continue spreading the disease of indoctrination around. We have to assume every person who's come in contact with him to be suspicious. We can't denounce him publicly until we have him. Or he will go dark and go about his business."
"Can't we talk this through with him?" Nihlus suggested.
"Absolutely not!" Archangel raised his voice. He settled at Flavian's gesture to calm down. "I am sorry to tell you this, SPECTRE, but death is only mercy for Saren at this stage. He's been indoctrinated for too long."
"How can you even know for how long he's been …brainwashed!?" Nihlus demanded.
"Sparatus' files have been falsified for the past 5 years," Flavian calmly responded. "So we can conclude that he was indoctrinated at least that much time ago. Just put that into perspective for Saren." Flavian's revelation made Nihlus shut up and reconsider his position. He didn't want to admit it, but his gut instinct was telling him that the two Turians were right.
"Alright," he conceded. "How do we find Saren? He's been missing for some time now. We haven't been told anything."
"It's simple. If there is anyone that has the slightest idea where Saren disappeared, then that person is Fist," Archangel said.
"The underworld boss?" Nihlus asked, not wanting to believe that Saren would associate himself with scum like Fist. "That Batarian bastard?"
"Same one who's been running Chora's Den for the past decade," Garrus confirmed.
"How is he tied to Saren?"
"Hierarchy Intelligence and Alliance Intelligence have analyzed all records of transit of people on the Citadel," Flavian explained. "It took whole days to go through them, but we've discovered some interesting inconsistencies. Minor ones, but they're still there. Whoever tried to hide them was trying too hard. And all those IDs and papers? Digital signature traced back to one of Fist's legal advising front companies on the station. We have a recorded testimony from the prisoner you've smuggled off station that they're working for Saren, and Fist facilitated their arrival on the Citadel. The two are linked."
"He smuggled those Salarians and thugs…" Nihlus muttered. "I will help you get Fist if it means it will take us a step closer in the right direction. But Chora's Den… not even I have the authority to go there and grab him without shots being fired." Garrus shifted a bit and parted his mandibles in a smug look. "You have something on your mind, Archangel?"
"Well… as a matter of fact… I do," he spoke. "I know Chora's Den is a dangerous place. Even C-SEC avoided it due to the crowded area it's in and the many patrons in the bar. The risk of hitting civilians at any hour is big. They'd see C-SEC coming, if C-SEC wasn't already protecting him. But…"
"But if we approach it fast… we can take them by surprise," Nihlus suggested. "Still, risk of civilian casualties is high. Can't we intercept Fist while he's traveling between home and Chora's Den?" he inquired.
"Chora's Den is his home," Garrus was quick to point out. "The best shot we have at grabbing him is when the place is least frequented. That means on a late morning hour."
Nihlus nodded. "Sounds like the best option. Now, what extra muscle can you bring to the table? As I said, I'm not enough."
"General Oraka offered a Blackwatch platoon as assistance," Quentius intervened. "Personal recommendation from Fleet Admiral Coronati."
Even Coronati was in on this? Nihlus felt so left out of the whole mess that was unfolding without him even knowing about it.
"No," Flavian cut the idea short. "They are our reserve, the ace on our deck. We'll keep them for when we strike decisively."
"Then what else? Hierarchy Intelligence has the manpower?" Nihlus inquired.
"Tied down after C-SEC took blood samples of the agent we've lost. No, we have something they wouldn't expect," Garrus teased Nihlus.
"Just say it already!" Nihlus became impatient.
"An Alliance Special Forces squad," Garrus said.
Nihlus, instead of returning Garrus' smile, felt a sense of dread take him over. Where, how, when? When did they sneak a Special Forces squad on the station? When did the Alliance become so entangled with the Hierarchy? How deep did this secrecy run? For how long? He, who was almost turned into a lab rat himself and tried to warn the galaxy ever since, he was not involved almost at all in this operation. While the Humans, the galaxy's newcomers, are knee deep.
"Where are they?" he finally asked, keen on keeping a vigilant eye on them. If they were able to be so incognito, what blocked other more malicious groups to be present? It looked like even Aria could come aboard the Citadel and nobody gives a damn with the amount of faked papers nowadays.
"Classified," Garrus said the single word Nihlus knew couldn't challenge. And his SPECTRE status meant nothing to trained agents of a state intelligence service. "They will show up at a rendezvous point shortly before we hit Chora's Den."
Quentius held his hand up to stop their planning as he had an observation to make. "Before you go ahead and pull a stunt, think about it. First, you must time it. There is no turning back once we go after Fist. Saren will know we are coming for him. We must be decisive. At the very least we must deal a decisive blow to Saren's plans. Consider the political context as well. Sparatus is organizing mass protests on Taetrus the coming days."
"Yes, we must be careful for that too," Flavian agreed. "However, this is not political. This is the survival of galactic civilization. Ambassador, Archangel and SPECTRE Kryik will act when they find it best suited."
Quentius focused his eyes on Flavian. "A single councilor cannot revoke the SPECTRE status of Saren Arterius," he pointed out. "Two have to do it. And right now only Valern is on our side… if he truly is."
"He can use the Council to protect himself and hinder us," Nihlus added. "But a leak about Saren's latest whereabouts to the press will surely put a lot of pressure on the Council."
Quentius shook his head disapprovingly. "If there is not something bigger in the press that will overshadow the leaked information. At best, the Asari press will deny it actively. At worst, they will not even speak about it. Our own press will be talking about it. You can be confident the Elcor will talk about it as well, lest we forget what happened to them. The Salarians will be downplayed as well by Dalatrass Linron. That… reptile, for I can't find a more formal word for her, is probably the most delusional Salarian alive. The Batarians… I don't need to tell you how High Hegemon Dhothan will use this information in his propaganda apparatus."
"Alright," Garrus intervened. "To summarize it, we will strike at Fist when the best opportunity arises," he wanted to get over the politics part. He looked at Nihlus as he continued his idea. "There is still another major obstacle in our way to Fist."
"And that is..?" Nihlus waited.
Garrus' omnitool produced the image of an Asari clad in dark colors and sniper rifle in her hands. She was peering through the scope at the photographer. For the photographer almost was on the receiving end. He didn't need to tell anyone this was from Fireteam Viper's helmet footage. "That obstacle is this Asari. Recognize her?"
Nihlus gestured a negative answer. "Not from this angle. But I can guess who it might be," his eyes glued to the image.
"Former Justicar, currently freelancing prolific assassin Tristana," Garrus divulged her identity. "Some of the best killers from the Terminus that money can get you."
Nihlus caught up with Garrus' insinuation. And he didn't need to ask how she got on the Citadel. The answer was already known – Fist and C-SEC facilitated her arrival. "Tristana!?" he was surprised at the identity. "This is trouble."
"She's more than trouble," Garrus was quick to raise the bar. "She killed my colleague. She is an incredibly powerful biotic and lethal both at range and up close. Not to mention all the experience under her belt. Our best hope is to jump her and use the element of surprise."
"Capturing her would be more trouble than it would be worth and does not constitute the objective of the operation," Flavian stated. "We can use her to show how bad the situation got on the Citadel. Her corpse will be of more use to present to the people than her taken alive."
"An idea I can agree with," Nihlus approved. "Do we know where she is? If we try to eliminate her before capturing Fist then Fist will get a head warning and vice-versa. We strike simultaneously or we wait until Tristana is at Chora's Den."
"But without Fist she can no longer leave the station," Quentius chimed in again. "And C-SEC would be hard pressed. Even they cannot afford to let her go after such a blunder comes to the surface."
"Indeed… only if we are successful…" Garrus contemplated. "I can't afford to fail. Not again," he said to himself.
"Once this stage of the operation is over," Flavian wanted to conclude, "we can put some dirt on Saren backed by evidence. Even if it is not much, complicity in drug trafficking, association with infamous hitmen and bribery are offenses he can't back out of. With this, even with a majority hostile Council, we are looking at his status revoked and depravation of direct protection."
They digested Flavian's conclusion, a ray of hope lifting their spirits. "What then?" Nihlus asked.
"Then we hunt down Saren and hope we can avert whatever disaster he's been cooking for the Reapers' benefit," Garrus stated with a cold voice.
Nihlus looked at Archangel. The man seemed to be more motivated than anyone else. He felt like the man before his eyes was seeking justice. But there was one scenario he could not stop thinking about. So he voiced it. "Tristana is a killer, an assassin, a hunter. I assume she's here with the express intent to eliminate you," and he points at Archangel, "and your team. What if she comes to us? To you?"
"Hierarchy Intelligence hopes that will be the case," Garrus divulged. "And we have prepared for it. If she comes where we expect her to, then she'll be cornered."
"What guarantee do you have she'll show up where you expect her to?" the SPECTRE asked.
"My colleague's death will not be in vain. Even if dead, he is still part of this operation," Garrus stated with a deadpan voice, meaning half lost to Nihlus on the moment. The longer the SPETRE thought about it, the more he realized Archangel was actually smarter than he lets on to.
Citadel, Presidium
Asari Embassy, Private meeting room
"How bad is it?" the Asari councilor asked the present matriarchs for the meeting. It was a call meeting with the Armali Council – the de facto leaders of the Republics through influence.
"The entire star system is dead, 70 million all dead on the planet, on space stations, and on starships," one stated.
"What even happened? That FTL drive was supposed to be delivered with no problems to our researchers. This is too much to be just a coincidence," a second matriarch voiced her thoughts.
"It does seem like an unbelievable coincidence," Tevos agreed. "But we've learned there are no such things as coincidences of this scale."
"Have we heard anything from the Human separatist contact? Anything?"
"I did get word from her," Tevos referred to Rita Riley, "she said that the Humans have cracked down on these Blue Suns. A good portion of their numbers have been cut down. But the group is still strong. There is nothing that would suggest the exchange of the FTL drive was compromised. They had their own people guard the cargo and ferry it."
"What if she is a double agent?"
"We must eliminate her even if she is not a double agent," Tevos listened to her peers' debate. "If the Humans suspect anything, then they'll get her and through her get to us."
"It's the word of a dissident Human against the entirety of the Republics. Nobody will care about one's word."
"We must focus on what is, not what may be," Tevos cautioned. "An entire star system dead. Cause of death seems to be radiation. We will redirect any relief and reclamation efforts we can."
"The entire planet is dead, Tevos. It will take huge amounts of money and effort to clean the surface. And even then, the ecosystem is dead. We must artificially create one if we want Ilsia to be habitable again," a matriarch clarified.
"So we leave it for dead?"
"The cities are radiation death traps, Tevos. One hour near any structure and you have received the lethal dose of radiation."
"Then it will take hundreds of years for anything to become nearly habitable," she voiced her conclusion.
"Thousands of years," her peer corrected her. "If we start cleaning it. The costs will be tremendous to remove layers of soil from all around the planet, and remove buildings. I believe the most feasible option is to abandon the planet."
Silence settled while all attendees pondered on the implications. "To think that somebody would create such a weapon…" another matriarch muttered. "Ludicrous!"
"The impact on the masses will be most unhealthy to us," Tevos stated. "Many will start asking questions, more will be scared. And we will have to burn part of our clout to steer this in a direction that won't come crashing on our heads."
"And we will. I'll use all of my press to its fullest," one of the matriarchs who controlled a good part of the Asari mass media companies pledged her support. "We'll bury any public doubts and claim it was a…" she stopped to think of an adequate cover up. Yet nothing came to mind. "…what can we pass this as? Seventy million…"
"An unexpected gamma ray burst from a supernova or something a few hundred light years away," one of her colleagues jumped to her help. "Have them claim it wasn't detected, come up with an explanation."
"Reasonable enough," Tevos agreed. "Fabricate a good story, pass it through our scientific community to the press," she instructed and moved on to other topics. "It will cost us, but we must look forward to our objectives. Sel'nola," she called the one within their ranks tasked with handling the Anhur situation, "when can we put our people in key positions?"
Sel'nola's voice was given attention when she began to speak. "We still have up to a hundred thousand Batarian troops in the hiding. They are fighting a guerilla war in the wilderness or in the settlements. I'm countering them with what troops there are still available. Commando squads have been dispatched. This should take care of them and flush the Batarians out."
"And when can we put our own people in charge of Anhur?" Tevos reiterated her inquiry.
"I will use the Batarian insurgency to that effect," Sel'nola explained her plan. "I'll start leaking proof that the new democracy on Anhur is in Aria's pockets. When unrest grows within the local population, then our own agents will take the lead, give fiery preaches in the cities, and support the change. The current interim leadership will be portrayed as profiteers and barbarians. Then, our agents come in and replace them. Popular opinion influencers will do the lifting. All in all, nothing complicated."
Her peers were in agreement with her analysis and plan of action. Truly, there was nothing that should go wrong on that front. As promised for helping the Republics cut down the Hegemony's forces outside their borders and pit the Hegemony against the Alliance, Aria was allowed to install her own puppets in key positions in Anhur's new ruling bodies. But the Armali Council – which Tevos was having a meeting with now – had no intention of leaving it at that. They agreed from the very beginning they'd turn on Aria.
"So everything within expectations, then?" Tevos wanted to make sure.
"Yes."
"After we secure Anhur, we can go forward. We should buy the loyalty of factions in the Nemean Abyss now that the Hegemony's own puppets are out of the picture," somebody suggested.
"I am already doing that," the matriarch identified as Sel'nola pointed out.
Tevos thought about it. The political map of the galaxy sprung to life in her mind. Anhur is as good as theirs. The Nemean Abyss will become theirs after the adequate amounts are paid and right people approached. This will allow the Asari Republics to corner the Fledgling States so much that they can control the majority of the available communication lines the Fledgling States have. With this, they can put pressure on the overall alliance of independent planets, and on each one individually, to steer them in a more… in a direction preferred by Tevos and her acquaintances. They can close shut the most frequented trade routes for the planets part of the Fledgling States, or encourage their own loyal outlaw pawns to make life a hell for them. Tevos held no doubt that the Fledgling States together have the military and economic capabilities to engage in prolonged conflict with any military.
"Did any representative of the Fledgling States approach you on the topic of the raid on Illium?" she inquired. Nobody answered her question. That amounts to 'no'. It means that the Fledgling States either were not concerned and believed the Humans and Quarians when they said that they only came after the Quarians, or they were already in league with the Humans. But they are so far… it means the Alliance moved much faster than the Asari leaders gave them credit for (or estimated).
"We'll sway them our way once we complete the political encirclement of their corner of the Terminus," Sel'nola stated. "We have already established the plan and we are already implementing it. All is going according to expectations on this side. More importantly, what will we do with Fedorian? I remember hearing something about a plan along those lines?"
Now that was the elephant in the room. Maybe a bigger elephant than the Alliance was. Tevos knew they had to do something about it, and they were already moving with a plan along those lines. Fedorian's most recent moves have swayed Tevos to finally support Sparatus more substantially and sometime sooner.
"Tevos, this is your front and your plan," a matriarch called her. "How is everything on your end?"
She went over the main points in her head in the blink of an eye before addressing the question. "Hierarchy officials have visited the Alliance embassy on numerous occasions, and I can see that Fedorian's statements and actions are more and more against the Council – both in its current incarnation and as an entity – and more sympathetic to the Humans and Elcor. There have been meetings between Ambassadors Quentius and Jath'Amon, and it ended by depraving us of one of our main objectives – throwing off High Hegemon Dhothan and his government."
Everybody was paying attention to Tevos. She leaned in the microphone even more. "As you know, Sparatus is leading the faction that's against Fedorian and his latest policies. He is the best chance for us to steer the Turians back on a favorable track. But… his faction lacks widespread support of the population. I have proposed the plan to Sparatus and he agreed to it."
She wasn't required to explain why Sparatus had few numbers on his side, aside from the limited but important military support. The admirals and generals who were sharing his concerns and opinions were few in numbers. But they were there. The Turians are a martial race where the citizens of lower rank are expected to follow the orders of superior ranks. This has been tradition for them since the Unification Wars. The people followed the Primarch of Palaven, the highest authority in Turian society. They were upset on him during the war, but Fedorian has proved to his people that he was not at fault and the people then directed their anger on the Council. The martial society left little room for anarchy or defiance for the authority of the Primarch if there was no good enough reason. And the plan is to give the people that reason.
"Sparatus' sympathizers on Taetrus are organizing a protest in the capital city of Vallum, near the colonial administration headquarters. A large crowd is expected, over 200,000 Turians. Security will be provided by the garrison's law enforcement brigade. The gist of it is that the commanding officer of the garrison is loyal to Sparatus. I proposed to him that he infiltrates at least a hundred loyal Turians among the protesters to instigate violence against the troops. The troops will then be ordered by their commander to begin a violent reprisal of this protest."
"There's more to it, I take it?" a matriarch who wasn't aware of it so far inquire.
"Indeed," Tevos confirmed. "We all know how a large mob reacts to what it perceives unjustified violence against them. The commander and his undercover, infiltrated people will push the mob to react more and more violent to the law enforcement brigade until they will push into the administration headquarters. This is where the critical point comes, and the whole plan depends on it," she said and halted for a moment, making sure everybody was listening carefully. "A platoon that will be stationed inside will open fire on the first row of protesters when they push too close to the colonial administration headquarters. There will be cameras arranged to show this and broadcast it. The press will report it as an order directly from Fedorian who ordered the garrison to shoot the protesters."
"And that's how we sap Fedorian of his popular support… Can this be traced back to us?"
"No. I merely presented the plan of action to Sparatus. Nobody will have anything on us because there is no physical link," Tevos replied. "If all goes well, Sparatus will be able to take Primarch Fedorian down."
Citadel, Zakera Ward
C-SEC Academy, Executor's office
Venari Pallin was waiting for Chellick to enter his office and present the findings of his investigation so far. He became more and more concerned as the days passed. It became harder and harder to cover up all the mess that was developing. More and more attacks on the Saren's Salarians in the Zakera Ward, going so far as to almost wipe them out from the ward. That came to an abrupt halt after a big shooting that ended with a score of corpses. Sparatus had been riding him to put a stop to it and the people were suddenly paying attention to the situation. The Council was also pushing him, but Sparatus kept them off his back. How he did it, Pallin did not know.
Chellick finally passed his doorstep, datapad in hand. "Executor," Chellick greeted him and handed the datapad over.
"Detective," Pallin returned the courtesy. He accepted the datapad from Chellick.
"The findings have been compiled into a single dossier as requested, sir. Everything is on the datapad," the detective indicated and turned silent. Pallin felt a degree of hostility or restraint from his subordinate. And it felt like it was directed at his person. Chellick just sat there, watching Pallin. "Anything else, sir?"
The Executor put the datapad on the desk and straightened his back. He regarded Chellick now with the attitude of the superior within the hierarchy. "Detective, I want you to highlight right now the major points exactly as they are in the dossier," he ordered.
Frustrated that if he cut even a paragraph short could lead to disciplinary punishment, Chellick gathered his acting and hid his dislike for Pallin. After all that was revealed to him by the mysterious Lucius Vextus, his opinion of Pallin and Sparatus plummeted.
"Sir, all findings lead to a Salarian smuggling ring that is in conflict with Hierarchy Intelligence on this station," he began his explanation. "We cannot even begin to guess the reason for this conflict. The most plausible hypothesis I have is that this smuggling ring presents a threat to the Hierarchy."
"This helps us with little," Pallin stated. "Continue."
"I have discovered that three of the Salarians found dead were arrested and released later on. Two by me, actually," he felt the need to point out. "We were able to find a definitive link to Hierarchy Intelligence at the last shooting's scene. Blood samples from the shooting area belongs to a Turian identified through DNA tests as Casius Dardatis, Hierarchy Intelligence agent."
Pallin was getting somewhere now. Chellick always got him some results. Now to find where they've been operating out of and he can send his officers to arrest them. "Where was he seen on the Citadel?"
"He's been on the station for the past six years. His public record states he's employed as nonmilitary personnel at the Turian garrison on the Citadel, at Naval Base Arx on the Kithoi Ward, Intelligence branch," Chellick answered.
"And? Have you been able to locate their base of operations? I highly doubt they'd operate straight out of the naval base," Pallin noted.
"I have looked into that possibility. After a thorough analysis of street surveillance cameras I can confirm he was operating out of an apartment in the Zakera Ward, precise address in the files. I was not able to identify other members of Hierarchy Intelligence who operate from the same location due to a lack of footage older than a month. I have provided a list of possible suspects, but nothing certain."
Pallin scrolled through the data, humming in approval of Chellick's results. "Very good, detective," he gave a faint of praise. "Now we are getting somewhere. I will bring this up with Councilor Sparatus, though I don't doubt we're still going to monitor the situation and call suspects in for questioning. I don't care if this is Hierarchy Intelligence, nobody goes and starts a war on my station. You are dismissed, detective. Thank you."
Chellick nodded and walked out of Pallin's office. Pallin then called Sparatus immediately. "Councilor, we have finally discovered who's been hitting the Salarians and we have a base of operations. I will- …." he listene in but was interrupted by Sparatus. "This is Hierarchy Intelligence, not any other criminal you can arrest with no consequences."
Sparatus retorted with an angry voice. "Yes, he might suspect, he might know something. But hurrying up without covering all angles-" he was interrupted again. "Fist!? I understand," he complied with whatever Sparatus told him to do.
As the call between the two ended, Pallin brought the three talons of his right hand to his face, his eyes gazing into the floor. He remembered why he was doing this. And then he called his subordinates.
The game of cat and mouse was turning around for Hierarchy Intelligence, Pallin thought. He thought.
Arcturus Stream, Arcturus Station
Administrative District, Presidential apartment
"Can we get serious now?" Harper asked, his visage bordering something on frustration and boredom while Montgomery is fuming more and more by the minute.
"GODDAMIT, HARPER!" Montgomery slammed his fist on the table. "You killed an entire colony! What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?" he thundered to the head of the AIC.
Harper didn't let the president intimidate him. He stood up from the armchair, meeting Montgomery eye to eye. "We're at war! You don't want to admit it, but Humanity is under attack!" he countered.
"You call a sponsored pirate attack that's been foiled and a terrorist hostage situation a war!?" Montgomery raged on.
"I've presented you plenty of proof that the goddamn Council is behind it! You know as well as I do that this is a declaration of war!" Harper thundered back.
For his age, Montgomery looked like one of the most dangerous people right now. He looked like he could smash the table. "And in turn you faked a NOVA bomb as an FTL drive and killed SEVENTY FUCKING MILLION! That was your cunning plan? So cunning you could stick a tail to it and call it a fox!? I trusted you, Director, and now you've put 70 million souls on my conscience!"
"It's the irrefutable proof that the Council – the Asari – actively worked against us! They've been trying to start a war between us and the Batarians for the past months!"
"You might have just as well started a war with the whole bloody Council!" the president shouted again. "Do you believe they won't know it was us – the Alliance? They aren't as stupid as you think, Director!"
"They're stupid enough to pick a fight with Humanity," Harper answered.
Montgomery wasn't phased by the attempt at a joke or boasting. "We're warming up with the Turians and you go around, detonating weapons of mass destruction in Citadel space…"
"Fedorian is not stupid," Harper assured him, his anger subsiding. "He can't go back to the Asari and the Salarians. He knows there's also much more at stake than simple politics. Our very existence is at risk."
"They're a people of principles, Director," Montgomery was quick to respond. "Do I need to remind we are a people of principles too?" He could see Harper's frown deepen, his mouth barely opening in what could pass as disgust. "You disapprove?" he inquired.
"With all due respect, sir," he strained the words, "fuck your principles!" he shot. Montgomery's face was a mask without emotion at this point. "We're not trying to run a school or a company here. We're leading Humanity against the greatest threat of our brief existence! We can't afford the luxury of principles when our very survival is at stake!"
Montgomery raised a finger to the Director of Alliance Intelligence Command, pointing it at Harper's face for half a second before his resolve faltered and his fingers curled in a fist. "I'm not going to sacrifice our humanity in the fight for it," he said with conviction.
"Salvation comes with a cost!" Harper pointed out.
Montgomery considered the statement. Indeed, Harper's argument held water. But what would be left of Humanity if it gave up its soul? 'The road to hell is paved with good intention,' he remembered. "You're sacrificing too much! I'm not selling my soul to the devil for salvation!"
"Then I will," Harper said with conviction. He grabbed his tuxedo with a swift move and put it on and made to leave.
"Where are you going? We're not finished here!" Montgomery said with raised voice.
"You're not finished. I am," Harper corrected him. "I have work to take care of. I don't have time to play the hero."
"If you leave this apartment I'll have you sacked as Director!" Montgomery warned.
Harper had his back to the man, a cigarette between his lips, waiting to be lit. "So the gods have not blessed one man with every gift. You know how to win a victory, Hannibal, but not how to use it," he said as if talking to somebody else entirely. At Montgomery's confused look he continued. "It's what Maharbal told Hannibal Barca after the Battle of Cannae, when he refused to march on Rome," he said before he opened the door. "I don't think I need to remind you how that ended up for Carthage years later," and left, closing the door behind him.
Montgomery was left looking at the door. "That bloody madman!" he cursed under his breath. "Why haven't you said anything?" he demanded from Osoba.
The interim president of the Alliance was silent throughout the argument between Harper and Montgomery. He was massaging his temples. "That madman made some good points," Osoba was reluctant to admit. "He is the bane of any politician if left unchecked."
"Once this whole referendum thing to vote me out of office is over, we will deal with him," Montgomery stated. He really didn't like Harper that much anymore. Not because the man stood up to him, but because of the lengths he'd go to. But… if he entertained that thought a moment more, Montgomery would know that it is his job to be willing to take certain risks and go the extra mile. Sometimes one has to carve into living flesh to get things done.
"What did he mean when he said that we are up against 'the greatest threat of our brief existence'?" Osoba inquired.
'Shit!' Montgomery thought. "I am sure he was referring to the existence of intelligent alien life," he lied with no hesitation. "The other governments. Aliens."
"Did he?" Osoba was not convinced. "And that Fedorian is aware of something more than politics being at risk?" Montgomery sat down opposite of Osoba and poured himself a drink. "Your silence… what are you hiding?"
"You're the acting president now. Who's going to stop you from finding out?"
Osoba sighed. He stood up, grabbed the bottle and poured himself a quarter of a glass of alcohol. "I see how you are playing it…" he said with a hint of disappointment. With a swift motion the brown liquid in the glass went down his throat. "Whether you agree with us or not, we're going through with the initial plan. The Asari have reacted, they blew their cover." The sound of glass touching solid wood echoed in the room. "Harper is right. We can't afford the luxury of principles now. At least in the context I'm aware of. Do what we must do, not what is the right thing to do."
Montgomery's visage was fixated on the still smoking cigarette Harper left in the ash tray. "Having double standards is a recipe for disaster," he noted.
"Anita will denounce the destruction of that star system as the consequence of powering an old and disaffected FTL drive that was salvaged from a 28 years old wreck in space," Osoba informed him. "And the irrefutable proof that the Asari, maybe even the Salarians, supported the Blue Suns attempted uprising. Then we'll lay on them Torfan, Mindoir… Shanxi. The AIC will jump the Asari embassy staff and put them under arrest."
"I hope you all know what you're doing," Montgomery cautioned. "Because there will come a day of reckoning for the perversion of our authority and power, our democracy, we're doing today."
"Take a break tomorrow," Osoba advised. "Then come ready with your speech for the public. You've gained a few victories. Use them. Until then…"
The door opening and closing again signaled he was alone in the apartment. Harper's cigarette in the tray wasn't finished. It was slowly burning itself out. Just like he was burning in a struggle.
A car was waiting for Harper outside the apartment. He didn't hesitate a moment when he opened the door and got in. "Get us moving, to the local headquarters," he ordered the driver.
"Yes, sir," he simply said and started the engine. They were on the move a second later.
'I'm dragging Humanity to salvation even if it wants it or not,' he found his resolve once more.
Harper pulled out his work phone. He accessed the contacts list from the main screen. He scrolled down through the list. He stopped at Lawson. He selected the contact, tapped on the green phone symbol and raised the phone to his right ear. Two dial sounds was all it took until Miranda answered.
"Yes?"
"Have you found out anything? Brooks confirms the hypothesis?" he inquired.
"She does. No doubt left, everything checks out. We are 100% sure. Batarian intelligence is legit."
"Good job, Cerberus. We are going to accelerate the plan and be on a shorter time table. Montgomery won't listen. I want that Rita Riley woman under arrest. Have our agents on the Citadel take her in," he ordered.
"Will do. And the rest?"
"I'll take care of the Asari embassy," Harper assured her. "And we will pay a visit to Omega."
"Omega? Aria T'Loak?" Miranda questioned.
"The one and only," Harper confirmed. "I want you to personally see this through. Take Jack with you as bodyguard. Aria won't dare pull any stupid tactic with Jack a few meters from her. I assume the alien has at least the instinct of self preservation."
"What's the point of this visit?" Miranda inquired. "Omega is on the other side of the galaxy, literally. The journey alone will take quite some time. Maybe a week if we are on a very fast ship, at full speed in FTL transit. Even more than that."
"I know. Brooks will take over your duties temporarily. The objective is to persuade Aria to give us something we can use against the Asari Republics, against their leaders," Harper clarified. "And to send a message."
"What message?"
"Aria has one rule: don't fuck with Aria. We have a rule too: don't fuck with Humanity. Let's make sure she understands that after Torfan." Harper couldn't help the raw emotion his voice carried over. There was both anger and pride interwoven in his words. "That's all. Get to it."
"Yes, sir."
Harper tapped the red symbol to finish the call. He locked his phone and inserted it in his inner pocket. 'I'm not going to sacrifice our humanity in the fight for it,' he remembered Montgomery saying. To him, the methods Harper grew up with were alien. To Harper, Montgomery's methods were too soft and even nonexistent at times.
Harper knows that he's not entirely sane. No sane person would celebrate the death of 70 million as an opportunity to kill even more. No sane person would even kill 70 million to simply get proof, confirmation that the Council was on this. The Asari specifically. But was it truly his fault? He just handed them the bomb. He didn't know where they'd take it. It just happened for the timer to hit zero at the right moment.
He doesn't know for sure, with 100% certainty, if the Salarians were on it as well. He has only the Blue Suns testimonies. They didn't blow their cover, at least not yet. But Harper held no illusions. He just needed the irrefutable proof. One that would be impossibly hard to point at and call it a hoax.
He will obtain that proof one day for the Salarians too.
'Humanity doesn't need to sacrifice its soul for its survival. I'll gladly sacrifice mine.'
Arcturus Stream, Arcturus Station
Port Arcturus District
The day that followed the night that saw the heated arguments between Montgomery and Harper looked like nothing remarkable would happen. Maybe it wouldn't. Or maybe it would. Averescu would not know that as he enjoyed drinks and cake at a pub.
He dipped the teaspoon in the chocolate topping of the cake. The levels of syrup infused cake bled the sweet liquid on the table. His eyes fell on the artificial garden while he enjoyed the taste of chocolate. The garden was arranged a few meters from the terrace. A few children were playing around through the flowers and around the small pond while parents enjoyed drinks at the other tables. The music was dim in the background. It was loud enough to give you privacy from the nearby table, but not loud enough to interfere in your discussion with other people at your table.
"You couldn't wait for me before you ordered, could you?" Averescu recognized the feminine voice as the silhouette of a woman walked past him and sat down across from him. He looked her over. The curves of the bosom and posterior were accentuated by the black dress. Just as he remembers them.
"Thought you'd take longer to get here," he answered.
She smiled at him, the white face delimited by the dark hair, brown eyes gazing at him. "You were wrong."
"But not unprepared," Averescu said as he passed her a glass and made sure a third of it held the same alcohol he had in his glass.
The woman accepted the glass. "You haven't reached out for months," she reproached before drinking.
"I know. I was busy," he was brief with his excuse. "Though I didn't know I had an obligation to check in with you every now and then."
"It's what friends do."
Averescu quirked an eyebrow. "We're not friends, Elena. Our relationship is customer – seller," he pointed out.
The woman now identified as Elena leans forward. When she speaks, her voice is low and more like a forced whisper. "We've been fucking for the past ten years, Leonard. And you're buying me dinner every evening before that. I think we're past that moment of simple customer – supplier moment." When Averescu didn't say anything, choosing silence over anything, she pressed. "Da li vidite lice starog ljubavnika?" Elena asked softly in her native language. [1]
His head snapped to a straight up position, his eyes, full of surprise, gazing into Elena's. "Ne sjećam se ništa da vam kažem," he answered in the same language. [2]
She smiled with a victorious grin. "You've been on TV, Leonard… After that recording of you during that military operation went public… well, many suddenly got interested. First to tell on TV about the… brave, mad, crazy vigilante officer's life?" Then, her smile disappeared and her expression had a sad portrait. "Imagine how I felt when I realized I am the flesh of a ghost."
Averescu stood frozen. He didn't register if it was for one or more seconds. The woman, Elena, was waiting on him to say something. He felt too embarrassed to formulate any answer that would even remotely pull him out of this spot. So he just went with what he's good at: telling the truth. He brought the glass to his mouth. "Yes, you do resemble her. It's the main reason I've reached out for your services," he admitted and threw the liquor down his throat before pouring himself another round. She reached to stop him from tilting the liquor bottle and let its content fill his glass. She confiscated his glass, holding it on her half of the table. "Hey, what are you doing?" he protested.
"You're not drinking your way out of this, Leonard," she informed him. Her voice was adamant.
"Woman, I've paid for it. Give me my glass back," he protested again.
She reached again forward and took the bottle as well. "You don't solve your problems by drinking, throwing money at it…" she hesitated for a moment, "or throwing bullets at it."
"What do you want?" Averescu relented.
"You have a problem," she stated. "First step in solving your problem: admit that you have a problem."
He cleared his throat as a means to convey that he wasn't particularly comfortable to talk about it. "If I wanted counseling I would have visited a psychologist."
"Just because I'm an escort doesn't mean I don't have anything in my head. Sex is an art, and I am a master," she boasted. "Comforting people is in the job requirement. And that means you know how to read them, how to give advice."
"Well, I'm paying you for the former, Elena… not the latter."
"Men don't come at us just for a good fucking, Leonard. You didn't come just for that either," she reasoned. "You need to leave that past behind. It's been …what, twenty years?"
"It's easy for you to say that…"
"I'm not just saying, I am trying to help. Stop living in the past. How long have you been chasing after shadows? How long have you been living with the ghosts?" she inquired. He folded his arms, a tell-tale sign he went into a defensive and defiant stance. "No wonder you've grown sadistic and violent."
His brows furrowed. The last observation made his mood foul. "Those who 'abjure' violence can do so only because others are committing violence on their behalf," he quoted.
"You miss the point-" she was about to argue.
"No, Elena – you miss the point," he was fast to cut her short. "The reason you're sitting here, enjoying a good drink? And not under an alien's heel? It's because I and other people like me were out there, putting those aliens six feet deep under the ground."
She regarded him with a puzzled look. "You shot wounded prisoners…"
"Smugglers and pirates who delivered weapons to other pirates, within legal bounds."
"They were fellow Human beings, Leonard," she pressed. "If you want to change something in your life, you have to start with your… violent tendencies. Dare to believe again in what you felt for that girl in your youth instead of blind hate."
He reached for the bottle and glass. She resisted him pulling of the objects. "Elena, you're not making yourself a service with what you're doing now."
"I want to help you."
"There's nothing left to help," he answers in a deadpan tone.
"Udina's calling you a hero. Some do so. Most call you a cold hearted killer."
"The Butcher of Torfan I hear is what the aliens call me. They better remember it." He left out the part where he wanted to say how he's not shy to be known as the butcher of every world.
"Leonard…" she paused to find the right words, "it is your image that's affected. You really don't care for any backlash?"
He stirred the liquor in his glass and looked at the liquid stick to the walls in reaction to the centrifugal force. "I don't care for the opinion of the masses. I only care to do my duty. As long as I am within legal parameters and following orders… nobody can touch me."
She looked at him with a frown and half mouth open. "You're ruthless, did you know that? I thought you still had a heart for something else other than sadism."
Averescu looked over the menu, a poor attempt to ignore her and hope she changes the topic. "What dish do you fancy?" he asked her.
Her face changed expression, from a serious one to a more relaxed expression. She did not want to foil the whole evening and potentially lose her most faithful client. Taking again the role of actress, she shrugged the previous conversation and focused. A glance up to him and the relief was visible on his face.
"Ehm, I think I'll go with…" she drew circles with her finger over the menu as she thought what to get. Her leg extended under the table to him in a teasing manner.
"Excuse me!" a new person came to their table. Both Elena and Averescu dedicated their attention to the newcomer – a woman of dark brown, fair skin and green eyes with a small camera hovering over her shoulder. "Rear Admiral Leonard Averescu?"
With a growl of what can pass as extreme and vicious frustration, he entertained her. "Yes? What do you want?" he demanded.
"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News," she introduced herself.
Earth, Brussels
Unity Square
Outside the Alliance Parliament
"Thank you all for meeting me here today!" Udina spoke to a large crowd of people who were cheering for him. He was on a truck that was brought to act as a scene. "I appreciate your support more than you know. But, above anything else, Earth appreciates your support. Because your support for Terra Firma is that for Earth and Humanity!"
The masses cheered to him. Just across the six lane road was the large park and yard of the Systems Alliance Parliament, with a walkway and car road that leads right to its door diverging from the boulevard. Terra Firma was organizing a protest right outside the Parliament. Unity Square was living up to its name, named for the founding of the Systems Alliance and as a tribute to an increasingly united Humanity.
"Let me tell you a few things. Montgomery and his Federal puppets ought to listen too! And, more importantly, the aliens must listen to us!"
He turned to look in the direction of the Parliament, as if addressing them. "Listen here you xeno servants and send the words to your masters! Those who have sought to kill us, to attack us and take our planets who're rightfully ours!" he shouted into the microphone. A few speakers had been reoriented to also face the Parliament.
"For you, xenos! Listen here! If the mountains stand against us we shall fight the mountains too! For Humanity and for Holy Terra's future! We swear to be faithful to Earth, no matter how hard the struggle! We pledge to give our lives, too, for Earth! Long live Earth, long live liberty, long live Humanity!"
He paused for a moment as the huge crowd cheered again for him. "Long live Earth! Long live Humanity!" the mob chanted as well.
Udina resumed his speech. "Montgomery, listen here! Love doesn't excuse you when you close your eyes to your people's suffering! Don't you thieves, you country sellers, don't you even think that you are tough and mighty! We are the true patriots right now in Unity Square! We've sealed a lifetime contract with our lands and our dreams, and we will not allow you to sell them to the aliens!"
The crowd was so loud he had to stop for a moment. His throat was also beginning to protest to the extremely energetic shouting of his speech. He paid no mind to it. He turned to face again the crowd. "Fellow men and women! Earth is ours, we inherit her entirely! We will have to give her whole to those who will come after us – to those born today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow!"
"We must not give up our cause, we must not give up the fight! Nothing was ever achieved standing at attention!" he continued. "We swear, from billions of souls and hearts," he beat his right fist on his chest, "from every kind of blood we're made of as a whole! We swear, man and woman, young and elder, unconditioned loyalty to Earth and to Humanity! Earth is the wealth that eternally remains ours! Nobody will frighten us by force or with threats of extinction like they did to the Krogan!"
"We are, if need be, a nation of soldiers. We are, if the day calls for it, an unmoving mountain range! Our people's pain is made to hurt us, to be felt! Listen here, you traitors and alien bastards: we love freedom both as individuals and as a nation! We want no alien overlords!"
"May the righteous Sun forever shed its warm light on a Human Earth, a sovereign Earth! Not one subservient to alien masters! Earth is both our life and strength! Long live our scribes, our soldiers, our farmers and every worker. Long live every mother who nourishes her child at her breast! Long live Terra and all that it stands for!" he finished his speech with all his energy behind it.
The crowd was now chanting his name repeatedly. "U-di-na! U-di-na! U-di-na!"
Donnel Udina smiled and waved in appreciation to the people. He knew he had this in the bag.
Arcturus Station, Quarian District
Galaxy Lounge restaurant
Irissa was welcomed by a Human hostess at the only restaurant on Arcturus Station that served dishes she's somewhat familiar with. She guessed it was a Human who served her because the Quarian staff had a thing or two against it. She reserved a place for dinner tonight after a long day's work. And she was with her direct subordinate an aide, Sellik – a matron almost 100 years younger than her.
"Your preference for an eating place is…" Sellik trailed as she thought of an appropriate word. The light inside was dim and an artificial night sky was set up on the roof.
"Different, yet similar? Risky for exposing ourselves among Quarians?" Irissa offered to complete her statement. "We have diplomatic immunity, my dear. If something happens to us, we can use our biotics with little to no consequences. Interesting concept the Humans have."
They were conversing in the Ruavan dialect, their species' second most widespread language, to make it hard for others to understand what they were talking about. Not like Irissa and Sellik deluded themselves with the fact that their words weren't understood by somebody else. The AIC kept a close eye on the alien dignitaries on Arcturus. Their every word was recorded and translated. As a consequence, it would be foolish to say aloud something that would compromise their operations. No, tonight they were two individuals who went out for dinner.
"Unless you cause real trouble," Sellik added.
"Who is dumb enough to go out beating people or actively cause problems?" Irissa asked with a smile. Nobody would be the answer to her question. "Come on, let's eat. Paying in Citadel credits in Alliance space carries its advantages. With 500 credits you get a noble's meal on the Citadel. Here, with the same money, you can have a king's feast."
"May I take your orders?" the waitress returned to their table.
"Sure, I-" Irissa looked up at her. Her eyes immediately fell on the commotion outside. She could see through the windows that looked at the street. Two armored cars came to a halt. Armed men in black clothes with bullet proof vests and helmets on their heads jumped out. Four stood outside while six stormed the establishment. They had submachine guns at the ready. Their faces were covered with black balaclavas.
"Counter Terrorist Unit! Nobody moves! Everyone stay put!" they shouted. Their eyes fell on Irissa and Sellik at the table. One remained at the door while the rest approached them quickly.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Irissa demanded when she realized they are coming after her. She stood up in an attempt to project authority.
But her bravado was to produce no result. The waitress that was by her side pulled an electric shock device and discharged some volts in Irissa. A shout of pain escaped her lips as she felt the electric shock. Then, the waitress grabs her right hand, brings it to Irissa's back and slams her face first on the table.
The patrons of the restaurant look at the scene unfolding before them. Some were even recording.
Sellik pushed her chair back and stood up, but a submachine gun was in her face a moment later. "GET DOWN! NOW! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" the AIC troops ordered. She froze when confronted with the situation. "PUT HER DOWN!" the leader ordered. Sellik didn't register all of it, but her hands were forced to her back and her legs were swept from beneath her. She was on the floor in no time, handcuffs and biotic inhibitors placed upon her person.
"What do you think you're doing!? Do you even know who I am!?" Irissa demanded from her bent over position over the dining table while handcuffs were being placed.
"Ambassador Irissa Myrais," the leader of the armed men called her by title and name, "you are placed under arrest on suspicions of the following: directly supporting terrorist elements in Alliance territories, attempt to undermine the territorial integrity of the Systems Alliance, complicity to crimes against Humanity, and complicity in instigating war between the Human Systems Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony," he recounted the charges. Her eyes went wide as the list dragged. "You have the right to remain silent. Attempts to resist arrest will be dealt with with extreme prejudice."
"What!? This is a huge mistake you're making! I protest against your use of exaggerated force!" she began to rage. Her hand was pushed even more to her spine, pain radiating from her shoulder. "I AM THE AMBASSADOR OF THE ASARI REPUBLICS, NOT A DAMN PIRATE FROM THE TERMINUS FOR YOU TO MANHANDLE ME LIKE THIS!"
One of the armed agents slammed his submachine gun's stock in her face to silence her. She recoiled from the blow. The blow was followed by a fist to the liver area. This took the air out of her lungs and she bent forward, gasping for air, strength gone from her body.
"Get them to the car!" the leader ordered. The two Asari were dragged outside to the police cars. The customers were left baffled at what just transpired in broad daylight.
[1] Translates as "Do you see the face of your old lover?" from Serbian. I hope I got them right since my Serbian skills are very rusty and I make extensive use of translators.
[2] Translates as "I don't remember telling you anything about her."
NOTE4: So, we close it here! If you believe the shiet is hitting the fan in the next chapter, then you might be right. Hell, even the chapter name is... foreshadowing. I hope you found it fitting. And the quote there at the start? You might be surprised how applicable in general daily life is it, not just great people and important struggles.
NOTE5: So, as a personal commentary of this chapter, I can say a few things. Montgomery is still trying to do the right thing, but be forgets that life is not as kind as one might prefer. He is slowly coming to see how bad events can go, and he can't even agree with his own team and with leaders of organizations he commands as the president. Garrus and the Hierarchy are moving now big time against the perceived enemies, and I am already blending elements of the Mass Effect games into the story before 2183. I am already referencing them. A big shitstorm is coming the way of the Turians. And we are getting to Averescu as well. As I said, I don't want my characters to be this unidimensional all good or all bad people. They have their strong points and their weak points, those that make us feel very appreciative of them and those where we are like "eh… ok? Wtf!?". I don't think there is a person that doesn't have its vices. And for Averescu, this is also a coping mechanism. Udina, man... he might be a bastard sometimes, he might be a xenophobe here, but he sure as hell is a patriot too. And Harper? Well, let m say that this is me getting him to shape up a bit more. He is not perfect, he is not the worst either. There are only shades of grey. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.
NOTE6: Before I close, I wanted to suggest you go check the story Ship of the Line by Uhtred. It's a story that takes the Mass Effect races and characters and puts them in the golden era of sailing ships, with a great focus on discovery. I enjoy the chapters and I'm looking forward to the crew of the Normandy going on the high seas!
NOTE7: If I don't update by the end of the year, then let me tell wish happy and merry winter holidays and a happy new year! Best regards, Apollo
A STORY BROUGHT TO YOU BY Apollonir