Chapter 22. Brighter Than A Thousand Suns


11. May 2390 AD, Elysium, New Illyria

The door hissed open and she raised her pistol into the darkened apartment, shut blinds keeping out the light from the outside. Taking a careful step forward, her helmet applied a green night vision filter over her surroundings. She walked through the entrance area and opened the second door up ahead, revealing a room with a single working desk, a perfectly made bed facing the window and an IFS flag, its edges either burned by a skirmish or jagged by age. A single chair was standing neatly in front of the table, perfectly aligned with its center and next to it a computer silently hummed along the air conditioning. It would've been surprising that the device was still working if it didn't look as good as new. Someone had done a good job maintaining it. On one of the walls an old picture of Elysium's former capital, Illyria, was hung, its frame looking somewhat worse for wear than the rest of the room.

Blending out the sounds, she focused on picking up small noises, someone breathing, someone making a move for something. Anything that would betray the presence of someone other than herself inside the apartment but besides the humming it was eerily quiet, not even the commotion going on outside audible. She walked over to a wall all the while keeping her eyes on the two closed doors connected to the room she had just entered in case someone was still hiding in here. When she reached it, she opened the sheath of her knife, causing the blade to slide into her hand before ramming it into the wall. Her suspicion was confirmed as she withdrew the blade, a black foam visible underneath. Someone had soundproofed the apartment to keep people from eavesdropping. Regular people wouldn't feel the need to do that.

Kamarov had stayed here for a long time, his perfectionism and paranoia had left their mark on the apartment. Said marks however gave rise to another question.

Where was he now?

She flicked on the lights, now certain that she was alone, and continued her investigation.

Moving towards one of the doors connected to the room, she couldn't help but notice that the place looked distinctively inhabited. The lack of dust suggested that it had recently been cleaned as well. As she was about to open the door, something caught her eye. A part of the picture's frame was loose. The Widow Maker stepped back from the door and carefully placed her hands on the picture before running her fingers along it, the thought that it may be rigged to blow ever present in her mind. With Kamarov one could never be too careful. Skipping over the loose part, she would only return to it after having finished checking for wires or other things that could trigger something. When she found nothing that raised her suspicion, she lifted the loose part of the frame up to reveal a small, silver metal coil.

A component of a jammer, the other pieces most likely hidden somewhere in the room. Surely he would've taken something like that with him if he had permanently fled Elysium.

She made a mental note to have the other parts of the apartment searched for more components before going through the door, a bathroom revealing itself to her as she turned on the lights. Just like the rest of the place, it looked as if someone had been here mere days ago. Going for the first shelf, an old, wooden one next to the sink, she slowly pulled open one of its drawers, once more making sure that nothing could cause an explosive device to blow up her and everyone inside the apartment. When she found no such thing, she fully opened it and began to search its contents. By the looks of it, this drawer had served Kamarov as a medical compartment, pain killers, three syringes of medigel and caffeine pills still stored inside. She closed the drawer and moved on, opening the one above after repeating the security check. As it turned out, this one had fulfilled the purpose of a wardrobe, neatly folded clothes placed inside. She looked through them but found out nothing besides the fact that Kamarov seemed to have a rather boring taste in clothes, plain black shirts and beige pants being plentiful. She was about to close it when she noticed something else. In the back of the drawer there was an empty space, the slightly different colour of the wood indicating that something had been there until recently and it didn't match the spaces taken up by Kamarov's usual clothing. Closing the drawer, she continued her search of the bathroom but found nothing of interest.

She walked out of the room and decided to check the other door, opening it and once more flicking on the light to reveal a small storage room. Besides a series of rather basic cleaning items, there was something that definitely confirmed this to be the apartment of Kamarov, a containment field used to store radioactive material. He had already been waiting for the isotope.

"He's not here," she spoke into the radio, interrupting the silent humming of the air condition and the computer. "Sent in a recovery team, tell them to assume that everything is rigged to blow."

"Copy that."

She sighed in frustration and turned on her heel, ready to walk out of the door when a little beeping caused her to spin around and level her pistol at the place it was coming form. The terminal on the desk had turned on on its own, a small notification informing her that Kamarov did in fact have one new message from an unknown contact.

It was better than nothing.

She walked over to the terminal and opened the message, a video link opening itself, only to come face to face with a very familiar face.

"Always so nosy," he chuckled, the telltale humming of an engine audible in the background. He was on a ship. "Now I'd ask you how you found me but as you're probably suspecting by now, I already know."

"Kamarov," she muttered at the screen as the man began to smile, the IFS uniform he was wearing indicating just what had been missing inside the drawer. She stepped closer to the terminal to disguise the movements of her hands before dropping a wireless device onto the desk. It would find out from where he was sending his transmission, he just had to keep talking for long enough.

"Came to gloat?" she asked as the tracker began its work, a small progress bar appearing on the HUD of her helmet.

"In a way yes," he shrugged. "I merely wanted to save you the time you'd spent trying to find me, you won't until I allow it."

"You didn't allow us to find you last time either," she countered. "The fact that most of your belongings are still here suggests you thought we wouldn't find you here either. You left in a hurry," she challenged him as her HUD informed her that the transmission was not coming from the planet. This was bad. If he had gotten offworld, finding him may turn into a wild goose chase.

However the old Kamarov never would've taken this risk, the man had been far too careful to contact anyone over an unsecured line, the jammer proofed that much. Something about him was off, starring in the transmission had already been strange since he had never made a public appearance before, but now he was gloating. It didn't fit the behaviour of a man who had managed to stay hidden for nine years. The IFS turning on him once more may have left a stronger impact on him than she had first suspected. The man had always placed a high value on loyalty, if the cause he was loyal to had betrayed him, it may have shattered the more logical, stable parts of his mind completely. He was starting to become careless.

"All the things I left behind belonged to a man hiding from his enemies, not the Butcher of Elysium," Kamarov replied. "Given that I've left that life behind me, I had no further use for its remnants."

"Not even the jammer?" she argued as the tracking software informed her that the transmission was being sent from somewhere within the Fringe. He hadn't gotten that far, not yet. The transmission was still using the HSA's network to reach her, not the much greater, galactic one. Just a bit longer.

"I don't need to hide under your nose anymore," he answered. "In fact I don't need to hide anymore at all. Now I'm sure you're trying to track this signal so I won't be much longer. I have just one more thing left to say," so the man still had some common sense. A pity.

"Well spit it out then," the Widow Maker replied. "Or save it for when I find you."

"I didn't appreciate you stealing my signature. One doesn't deny an artist the finishing touch on his masterpiece. Rest assured, you will pay, all of you."

"Not if I put an end to you," she threatened.

"That didn't work last time, did it?" he spat back.

The transmission ended with Kamarov staring at her, the tracking software asking her to reestablish the connection.

She barely managed to keep herself from throwing the terminal to the ground, only the small chance that something on it would help track him down before he made his move.

Damn the bastard.


20. May 2390 AD, Human Territories, Decommissioned Transport Vessel

"Our final run on Amaterasu didn't turn up any more volunteers," his assistant informed him as he focused on the device on the table anxiety, joy and exhaustion causing him to be alert, excited and tired at the same time. "No one wants to be associated with us," she told him.

After having fled Elysium mere hours before the HSA had crashed through his front door, he had set for the Terminus Systems, buying the finishing touch of his masterpiece for a ludicrous price and shooting the volus salesman after the transmission had been completed out of spite. Then he had procured other items he'd need and now, with the help of two factory new freighters he was on his way to fulfill his promise.

"They'll burn alongside the HSA then," he muttered, his focus somewhere else, the low humming of the engines putting his mind at ease. "Everyone who stands in the way of our cause will burn."

The IFS had started a campaign, a very public one by their standards, informing everyone to stay as far away from him and his allies as possible. It had worked. The Fringe had betrayed him just like his former right-hand man had betrayed him all those years ago and they hadn't come close to the number of people he would've liked to have on board for this operation but in the end numbers wouldn't matter. His masterpiece would be the ultimate equalizer.

"How many are left?" he asked. Most of his loyal subordinates had perished on Elysium, only the elite he had held in reserve or assigned to the further preparation of this mission surviving to escape with him.

"Eight assassins, 86 veteran militia men, five pilots" she replied, "and the two of us."

"It will suffice," he said as he placed a hand on the device, a slightly modified copy of the one that had devastated Elysium all those years ago. Tracing the outer edges, he felt pride rush through him. Another flawless design ready to leash out. The HSA's counter-measures wouldn't be able to keep him from triggering it, he had made sure of it.

"According to your orders all but a skeletal crew have been moved to this ship and final preparations are being made. A VI is assisting the two volunteers in their duties aboard the other freighter. We'll reach our destination in an hour and the technicians are preparing the shuttle for us, they say that the IFF is integrated and working. Would you like to address our comrades?" the assistant asked as she shut off the alien device on her wrist, its orange glow fading.

"No. They know what they need to do," he replied as he ran a hand along the scar on his head. All in due time. First he'd make sure to show everyone how fragile the HSA was, then he'd turn his attention back to everyone who had betrayed him on his path.

"Do you want me to get your armor?" she asked.

"I won't need it," Kamarov replied. His plan would ensure that they'd experience minimal resistance.

"Are you sure that we should do this? Maybe it would be wiser to try a more subtle appro-"

"Are you questioning my orders?" he said as he glared at the woman already wearing her dark-brown armor, a sign that she was expecting more than minimal resistance, a sign of her lack of faith in his plan. "Because if you do, I'd like to remind you how I deal with traitors."

"I-what?" she asked confused. Or maybe she was just faking the confusion to hide her own schemes. "I didn-"

"You were always one of my most devoted subordinates so I will extend you a courtesy I'd give no one else. A second chance," he interrupted her. She swallowed before her face drew into a serious expression, replacing the faked confusion. Good, for now atleast.

"I won't question you again," she spoke. "I'll make the final preparations and see you in the hangar bay."

"For the Fringe," he offered.

"For the Fringe," she replied somewhat meagerly. Perhaps another sign of fleeting loyalty? He'd have to find a replacement later down the line, someone who wouldn't even dream about questioning him.

Once more left alone with his thoughts, Andrej Kamarov looked at his target, the place where he would make another mark on history and couldn't help but smile at the prospects of the future.


2132 CE, Arcturus Station

Her yellow cruiser moving over his greenish home world, marking yet another defeat Redford had suffered at her hand, caused him to sigh.

"I got closer than last time," he explained as he dropped back into the cushion of the seat.

"Just be glad that this isn't one of the official tournaments," she reminded him.

"Yeah I know, I'd get shocked from here to Earth and back again," he spoke as he cracked his neck, a distinctively human mannerism, "but I still got your cruiser."

"Yes, because I used it to draw you out. You're not exactly the naval genius you see yourself as, Redford," she countered with a smile.

"So you'd get shocked as well," the specialist said as he turned to look at her with a smirk. "How's that for naval genius?"

"Sacrifices are inevitable on the way to victory," she quoted from an old turian military text she had studied as a Spectre.

"Have you made up your mind about BAaT yet?" he asked seemingly out of the blue.

He was referring to the human biotic program she had recently been asked to take a leading instruction role in, her experience and the fact that she was listed as one of the strongest asari biotics currently alive being seen as an asset the HSA couldn't let go to waste.

Human biotics were a blank slate, a complete unknown. No one knew just how strong they would turn out to be and if they'd fall in line with turian or drell biotics, who made up the middlefield of biotic potential and endurance or if they'd turn out to be like the quarian biotics of the past or the rare salarian ones who lacked behind the rest of the galaxy in terms of their biotic potential. Tela doubted that the humans would be able to come close to matching the natural biotics of the asari or the brute strength of the krogan even if they had surprised her in the past. As far as she had been told it would be her responsibility to find out where they ranked and adapt the training accordingly, working on their training with regular HSA military personal.

Still, the humans had to make up for the huge disadvantage in terms of the number of biotics they could field. Only a few hundred children were currently known to have manifested something akin to biotic potential and there was no telling how many of them would turn out to be strong enough to employ their abilities in combat. For now, the number would be dwarfed even by the thin ranks of the Cabal Corps.

The solution to this issue they seemed to favour right now was to ensure that their biotics would be able to be as skilled as 'humanly possible' in using their new abilities while ensuring that they'd be just as skilled in non-biotic combat, a rather familiar approach to the matter. A turian one at that. While it hadn't been said to her face, she figured that the Hierarchy had been their main source of inspiration in this regard, joint maneuvers serving as one of the many situations in which human forces had worked with biotics. Cabals were not exactly the most powerful biotics in the galaxy but they made up for the lack of raw power they could put behind their biotics through rigorous training, refined tactics and the usual turian discipline.

While asari huntresses were very much skilled with mass accelerator weapons, they still heavily relied on their biotics most of the times. Strong biotics were a requirement to enlist in any unit within the Asari Republics, since it made sense for her people to rely on their natural gift but if one stripped them of their abilities, they wouldn't be able to conduct most of their missions. Cabals on the other hand were still an elite squad of riflemen, even without their biotics.

Unlike asari their bodies didn't possess a natural endurance in regards their biotics. They weren't adapted to use them, they didn't evolve with them. This problem transcended through every species besides the krogan who could simply power through it due to their unique secondary nervous system and general resilience. Others couldn't use their biotics abilites for nearly as long or on nearly the same level as someone like a krogan battlemaster, a justicar or Tela herself could, falling into a self-induced coma due to the exhaustion long before coming close to the higher levels of biotic potential common place within the asari military.

Since human biotics would fall in line with this trend, it made sense to give them something to fall back on.

"I'd have to move away from Arcturus," Tela answered, "but I've definitely considered it. It's not like I got anything better to do anyway."

"Yeah I heard that, they plan on doing it on Terra Nova," Redford replied. "Stick them into the new academy they named after Grissom."

"He was the one who died on Elysium right?" Tela asked to keep the conversation going. Having done her fair share of studying human history, she was well aware of who Jon Grissom was. 'Hero of the HSA', as others called him. The first and only Section 13 specialist to be made into a public figure upon his death, a way of honoring his deeds and to give the people a hero in face of the atrocities that occurred during the Fringe Wars. In a way his exploits reminded her of a Spectre, someone outside the law growing through fame through heroic deeds that seem near impossible but are backed up by offical records and factual evidence.

"Yes, tough bloke. Took a nuke to kill him," Redford chuckled. There was a bittersweetness to his reaction that she picked up on.

"Were you close?"

"Kind off. Yes," the specialist replied after a moment of consideration. "He was a comrade you know, not exactly my best mate but also the guy who brought me into the section. Sucks to lose someone like that, to be completely unable to help them, just stand there and watch them go, you know?"

"Using 'mate' as a way to describe a friend is still strange," Tela offered to put his thoughts on something else. One shouldn't open up old wounds and humor would do well to keep him from doing it.

His laugh implied that it was working.

"That's what you pick out of that sentence?" he asked. "Hell, I've been calling people 'mate' since I could talk. I don't think I could shake that habit if my life depended on it."

"Maybe that would be another use for the shock pads used in Kepesh-Yakshi?" Tela suggested with a smirk.

"Somehow I get the feeling I should keep those away from you, for my own sake."

"You're just afraid of some real stakes," she joked.

"Speaking of stakes," he replied. "I've been thinking about a way to repay you for Omega, the-."

"You don't need to repay anything," Tela interrupted him.

"Christ, will you let me finish?" Redford chuckled. "Anyway, I thought the least I could do to return the favour would be to take you out for dinner some time. You did almost get beaten up by a krogan after all. So, what do you say, couple of days from now?"

"I'd love to," the words almost shot out of her mouth.

"No snarky comment? Solid," he replied as their eyes met, his brown orbs looking into her own, dark green ones´as they drifted into silence, the fainting scar where the turian had scratched the specialist on Omega still visible on the left side of his face.

"Anyway," he said, breaching the comfortable silence that had settled in the room. "How about two days from now?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," Tela replied.

"There's the snarky comment I was expecting," he laughed.

"Two days from now sounds good," she answered sincere as he got up, causing her to stand as well.

"Anyway, I have to get going again. Still got some work to do," he said as they walked for the door. "Now I don't want to influence you on the decision regarding the job but for the record, I'd really like an excuse to go to Terra Nova once in a while. Beats Arcturus any time of the week."

"Can't go without seeing me once in a while?" she teased as they lingered in the door.

"Well, technically I was ordere-"

His reply was cut short by the sound of an alarm ringing through the station and the beeping of his now red glowing watch drawing both of their attention.

"What the hell?" he frowned as looked at his watch, "please tell me they let you keep your stuff after Omega."

"They said it would save time if I ever needed it again," she replied as she began to walk back into the apartment and to the closet it was stored in, Redford following right behind. "What's going on?"

"I don't know but this," he held up the wrist watch, revealing a small message to her just as she withdrew the footlocker her gear was stored in, "means nothing good."

'Meet me outside the security hub, bring the Spectre. Trouble. - WM.'


47 Minutes Earlier, Arcturus Station

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the man sighed repeated the same answer again. "Chancellor Noé is still with the parliament."

"Any idea how much longer he'll be in there?" she muttered, leaning against the wall. She had already been here an hour ago only to receive the same answer.

Usually she could just walk inside there and drag him out but that would raise a lot of questions, questions she didn't need right now. Rei's persistence, combined with the recent failure of capturing Kamarov, had managed to convince her that the time to inform the chancellor of their findings on the Object Omnicrons and their 'Harbinger' had come. He had argued that the highest echelon of human leadership should be made aware of the recent implications about galactic history. Especially since STG was apparently tracking the same thing. Diplomacy between races was not part of Section 13's autonomy but the chancellor could make it one. If they wanted to pursue this matter to its full extend, Rei had pointed out that the chancellor needed to be made aware of it. As the elected leader of the human race he was as responsible for its safety as Section 13.

Until recently she had mostly disagreed with this mindset on the grounds that Noé was still that, an elected leader, meaning he could only be of help as long as he was chosen to stay in office, therefore she had decided to push the matter into the future and instead focusing on Kamarov for now.

However as she was standing in front of the chancellor's office, intending to reveal everything they knew about this subject to him, it was obvious that something had changed her mind. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it had been but on her way back to Cronos Station she had recalled the last report Rei had given her before coming to the conclusion that the time for revelations wasn't slowly closing in on them but that it had already arrived and she had overlooked it due to letting Kamarov get to her.

"No idea, Ma'am. It's a complicated matter. I could let him know that you were here once he gets out," he offered. "Or send you a notification."

She was wasting her time here, she may as well get some work done while she was on Arcturus, "Inform me once he's free, tell him its urgent."

"Will do, Ma'am."

"I'll be in the security hub."

The assistant nodded and she set off, walking through the corridors of Arcturus and leaving the political part of the station behind her, instead walking through the areas inhabited by the people working here. While someone unaware of just were he was may be fooled by the appearance, she was aware that everything in here was artificial, the gravity, the air, the temperature, even the light but even with that knowledge she couldn't help but be somewhat amazed by how close to Earth it actually came. As she walked through a more open area with some people in it, trees and living units lining the sides, she found herself lingering in front of a water garden for some reason. A lotus flower caught her eyes, its white-pink leaves blooming in the small pond of water it was floating insde, surviving thanks to the fact that everything it needed was given to it through artificial means at the hands of Arcturus.

She faintly remembered the flower from her childhood on Earth, floating peacefully between other the other plants and animals living in the pond in front of her home, coexisting with each other in their own little world as she stood on the outside and simply watched with her family. It took her surprisingly to picture their faces and recall the sound of their voices. She hadn't been home in a long time, had she? The image of her home, a rather large family estate far away both in terms of distance and appearance from the large, arcology skyscrapers of Singapore, was equally blurred. She recalled seemingly random details of first moving there, a white gate, an old stairway made out of creaky wood, the evergreen trees she used to climb.

Why did she feel like this now? This was neither the time nor the place for it. Pushing the nostalgia back into the corner of her mind she looked at the time on her wrist watch, moving the sleeve of her black uniform back in the process.

She had stood here for nearly ten minutes. The director tore her gaze from the flower and kept walking. There was still work to do. She couldn't just space out like that.

The director moved through the living area and after walking for quite some time, she reached the more militaristic part of Arcturus, military police and people in uniforms of all services greeting her as she walked towards the large, grey security hub, her intended goal being Section 13's own level within the building. Passing the entrance checkpoint quicker than most people, she threw a gaze towards the apartment building located across the small square and recalling that Redford should probably be there right about now. After all, she had ordered him to check on their guest every now and then.

She walked into the security hub and noted the contrast between its grey corridors and the brighter colours of the living quarters. But on the bright side, in here she wouldn't suffer any unwanted flashbacks.

The hub was a massive building that served as the central command of all HSA forces, taking up a sizeable part of Arcturus Station's military areas. Containing multiple levels for each service and security matters, the station also had a secret basement so to speak, a level only few people had access to. For other people the 'normal' basement marked the end of their journey. Not for her. The level was only accessible through an elevator that would require her clearance, an elevator she was now going towards, dodging uniformed people in the process who all looked like they were in a hurry. As she stood in front of the elevator, her curiosity got the better of her, causing her to follow one of them towards the central command which was abuzz with activity.

She entered the large room, countless of monitors and a holographic map of Arcturus in its center giving it a rather blue glow. Looking through the room, she picked up on the fact that everyone seemed to be focus on the same task, a rather unusual occurrence given Arcturus's size. Then she noticed the projection of space debris on the largest screen, causing her to grab a staff member by his arm to stop him.

"What happened?" she asked as the man turned to see who was holding him.

"Traffic accident," he offered. "Cargo freighter collided with a military transport carrying civilian contractors," he explained as he nodded at the screen. "Search and rescue is in progress, a shuttle is already bringing in some of the more serious injured."

"Civilian contractors?"

"Transcript says they are supposed to renovate some of the living units."

"During a time period when most of them are inhabited?" she asked as she let go of him and walked towards the chief of security, the head of the military police detachment of Arcturus Station. Why would Arcturus's logistical division hire contractors to renovate living units? The apartments were in top condition.

"Colonel?" she asked as the woman in the black-grey digital combat fatigues worn by the HSA Marine Corps turned around.

"Yes?" the officer asked as she turned towards the director, "Director Go-"

"The freighter collision, when did it happen?" she interrupted her.

"Seven minutes ago," the colonel replied. "It's nothing serious really," she assured her.

"One of the staff just said that a shuttle already brought in the heavily injured? How close was that crash?" she didn't like where this was going.

"Not nearly close enough for that," she realised. "Where did that medivac shuttle land?" she roared into the room.

"Bay Six, Ma'am," the man who had informed the director replied.

"Give me eyes on that hangar bay," she said as she turned towards a soldier manning a terminal near the largest screen in the room, the one currently depicting the results of the collision.

The man began to press a series of commands on his screen and soon the big screen shifted from displaying the debris of the two freighters to the inside of Bay Six, several Kodiak's, one of them marked as a medical transport, resting inside.

"Rewind to the moment that medical Kodiak landed," the colonel spoke as the feed traveled two minutes into the past, now showing a Kodiak touching down, its doors flying open and three black clad figures stepping out of it.

"Damn," the colonel said as the Widow Maker kept watching.

A member of the military police, his hand already going for his weapon, walked up to the group only for one of the figures to shoot an electrical burst out of an omni-tool, causing the soldier to collapse in pain before being dragged off by his attacker. Then another of the figures knocked on the shuttle and five other people sharing their appearance jumped out, shortly followed by a woman with short, black hair and dark-brown armor holding a pistol. Lastly a man wearing the red uniform of an IFS officer stepped out, carrying a roughly briefcase sized object in one hand and a pistol in the other, the scar running along the side of his head was the first thing she picked up on.

"Kamarov," she realised. "Sound a station wide evacuation. Non-essential personal and civlians need to get out of here, the rest has to get into their hardsuits."

"You heard her!" the colonel spoke as the staff of the control central shared a short look of uncertainty before an alarm echoed through Arcturus and they carried out her orders.

She pressed a button on her watch, a red glow following soon after she sent the message and turned towards the colonel, "I'll need a gun," she spoke, "and two shield generators."

"I can only give you the first," she replied as her hand reached for the service pistol holster on her leg, a SIS-8 and two additional magazines stashed inside. "Shield generators are in the armory, I'll tell them you're on your way."

"Sent heavy response teams to all essential systems. Where would a dirty bomb do the most damage?" she questioned into the room.

"Life support," one of the people, a woman in a naval uniform called. "A detonation would spread the powder through the station's air system all the while crippling one of the most essential systems. It's accessible through the maintenance level. Blowing it anywhere else wouldn't destroy the station itself, the bomb looks too small to tear apart Arcturus."

"That's where he'll go," the Widow Maker said as she looked at the colonel. "Can we get eyes on the entrance closest to Bay Six?"

Without having to say something else, the screen shifted from the hangar towards the maintenance levels, four dead military police members lying in a pool of their own blood.

"Get as many people of the station as you can, call in the fleet to help with the evacuation."

"Yes, Ma'am," the marine officer replied before relaying the orders.

"Fastest way to life support?," the Widow Maker went on.

"It's located in the center of Arcturus, right under the major living areas. I can get you a shuttle but it won't be able to fly inside the sublevels, they are far too narrow for that. You'll have to go into the tunnels on foot."

"Do it."

The colonel nodded and went to work as the director shot out of the command central, the corridors now even busier than when she had gotten here. She rushed through the hub, hoping that Redford had stuck to his timetable.

Bursting towards the armory, she spotted a sergeant standing in the door way, holding something in his hand and waving towards her. She ran towards him and was handed two of the small shield generators, clipping one into place as it powered up, and a pair of glasses that could stand in for a HUD. Without her hardsuit, it was the next best thing she'd get.

She jumped down the stairs, shoving people out of her way and came running through the security checkpoint, no one bothering to stop her as she headed for the Kodiak hovering in front of the hub, a tall man in an equally black uniform and a heavily armored Spectre already waiting next to it.

"What's going on?" she heard Redford call as she jumped into the shuttle, causing both him and Vasir to follow, the shuttle starting to lift off the moment the last one was inside. She tossed the remaining shield towards him as she began to talk. "Kamarov's on board," she explained, causing a noticeable confusion on the specialists face. "He's got eight of his elite assassins with him and another woman who looks like she's serious business."

"What's with the evacuation?" he went on as he grabbed one of the SR-7s strapped to the inside of the Kodiak's, serving the crew as weapons should they crash inside enemy territory before looking for

"He's got a bomb," she replied, "and he's going towards life support."

"Shit," the specialist said as he borrowed the magazine out of the other SR-7 before continuing to scavenge for gear. "Arcturus is in trouble if its nuclear."

"Which is why we can't let it detonate," the director said as she grabbed a hold of two radios, throwing one of them towards Lal Qila who caught it before putting its earpiece in.

"The chancellor has been evacuated," one of the pilots called from the cockpit as the lone Kodiak flew into the director others were coming from. There went the reason she came here in the first place. "He's being moved to the HSASV Shasta."

"How long to the sublevel?"

"The closest entrance to the maintenance level is just up ahead," the pilot replied as the shuttle began to descend. That had been a short ride. "You're on your own from here."

The doors opened and the Widow Maker jumped outside, two sets of thuds echoing shortly after she touched the ground.

"I'll patch you in with central command," she heard the pilot's voice over the radio. "Good luck."

The maintenance sublevel, connected to the living areas of Arcturus through several tunnels across the station, was a complex that stretched out underneath the majority of the station with the life support systems being located in its center. As they walked through the heavy blast door and down the stairs, she immediately noticed the difference. The air was dryer and hotter than before and the city-like look of Arcturus's inhabited areas, plants, water gardens and trees, were replaced by grey catwalks, machinery on the walls and the sound of everything that kept the station running.

"We've got to hurry," she said as they jogged towards the center of the sublevel. "Kamarov had a head start and somehow I don't believe that the military police has stopped his assassins," she added as she recalled the dead soldiers.

The IFS, while mostly made up of colonists given a rather short but still effective training, had taken care to pull the best of these recruits from their regular units and turn them into soldiers capable of conducting more complex operations, employing deserters or disgruntled veterans of the HSA's special forces to shape them into elite units of highly skilled killing teams, commonly known as assassins. In the past they had conducted sabotage, infiltration, assassinations, training of insurgents on other worlds and had even been bold enough to attempt to murder Chancellor Noé himself, only Section 13's timely intervention preventing their success.

In retrospective it was impressive that Harper had stopped fifteen of these guys on his own. With two of them lacking armor and gear, she somewhat doubted that they'd mirror his feed, even if there were just eight of them this time.. They'd have to rely on the asari to do the heavy lifting, being the only one of the three that had access to her full kit. Her biotics and experience would certainly come in useful if the report regarding Omega was anything to go by.

"Our main goal is to get a hold of that bomb," she said as they continued to run along the sublevel. "Everything else is second priority."

"The assassins are going to be a problem," Redford added. Like the Widow Maker himself, he had encountered them in the past. "You're our ace," he said as he turned towards Vasir, voicing the strategy the director had already made up in her mind. "They won't expect you."

"All forces be advised," the central command began to speak, "the Stalingrad just repelled a boarding attempt by the occupants of an escape pod it recovered. I say again, hostile forces are using the life pods to get onboard our vessels. Do not open them without marine detachments in the immediate area."

"Bloody hell," Redford muttered. "This day is getting worse by the minute."

"Life support is down that way," she said as they reached an intersection, the pair of glasses informing her of the way she had to go. Without them navigating the sublevel would've been a much harder task. She would have to thank the armory chief for thinking along later.

The group took the turn and kept running, the center of the life support system drawing closer with each step they took and soon they found themselves standing in front of another large blast door which wasn't supposed to be opened, yet clearly was.

The group of three slowed their pace as they stepped inside, her eyes catching sight of a couple dead technicians, two rough holes inside their heads where mass accelerator fire had cut them down. Wrong place, wrong time. She had to focus on saving everyone else, not regret failing those who had already died.

"Do you hear that?" the former Spectre pointed out and indeed the Widow Maker heard the faintest noise of foot steps hitting the metal of the sublevel. "We've gained on them," she noted.

"Alright, no need to lose the moment of surprise then," she began to whisper as the two specialists and the lone asari continued sneaking through the grey corridors, the hissing of machinery doing well to disguise the little sound they created. After roughly another minute of travel, they managed to spot the group, the backs of black armored figures appearing as they turned the corner, the light of the ceiling lamps reflecting of their backs as they left the corridor to step into a more open area, several levels appearing below them as they overlooked the center of the life support, only the railing of the catwalk keeping them at a distance.

Their three pursuers didn't intend to let them get there, now only a few dozen meters behind them. However the moment one of the separatists would turn around, they would be in trouble. The catwalk offered no cover and most of them were carrying ranged weapons, they'd be exposed, so with every meter they managed to close in undetected, they'd reduce the chance of being at an even bigger disadvantage in the inevitable engagement.

When they were almost right on top of the enemy group, one of them picked up on the faint steps behind them and shouted out a warning, his howl being interrupted as a purple streak shot into him and the man next to him, the asari making use of the one advantage the three had over the separatists, biotics. The assassins were thrown backwards into the group as Vasir drew their fire, her armor and barriers giving her the highest chances of surviving it. Then she sent purple ripples through the air, causing some of the group to stumble as the woman in dark-brown armor grabbed a hold of the railing to stabilize both herself and Kamarov whom she was holding onto aswell.

"Stop them," she heard Kamarov roar through the commotion as Redford and herself jumped into the fray, using the former Spectre's attack to close in. She saw him and the armored woman rush down towards the life support, before an assassin stepped into her path, his gun firing at her shields as she tried to get past him. The rounds were deflected just long enough for her to close in and smack the pistol aside before throwing a punch at his throat. Her foe deflected it with his palm mere inches before it could connect and transitioned into an elbow strike, only her incredible speed allowing the Widow Maker to avoid it by bring her own arm between his elbow and her face. As the force of the blow shot through her and the HUD glasses went flying over the railing, she pulled the colonel's pistol from its holster and began to fire at the assassin point blank, rounds being stopped by a kinetic barrier generator.

The assassin reacted to the threat as fast as he could, attempting to twist the pistol away from himself while jabbing at her face. In doing so he gave her just enough space to slip past him, smashing her forearm into his neck in the process, causing him to stumble forward, grabbing a hold of the railing in the process.

That was all she needed.

As she turned, now staring at the back of most of the assassins, she saw her two companions take them on, two already on the floor with their bodies twisted at an odd angle from where a biotically accelerated, armored asari had smashed into them. Another female looking assassin was lying on the floor with a ceramic blade jabbed into her neck, two of her comrades trying to get a line of fire on Vasir who was currently avoiding the slashes of another separatist's knife. Meanwhile another, particularly big one was engaged in a rather vicious looking grappling match with her fellow specialist, nasty punches being thrown by both sides as Redford managed to keep his foe between himself and the two assassins still holding onto their ranged weapons.

Summoning her strength she grabbed the assassins head just as he regained his composure and smashed it against the railing, once, twice, thrice, right until he went for his knife, causing her to jump away from him. The protective mask he was wearing was probably a lot more resilient than it looked. He slashed at her, coming close to cutting her multiple times right until another shot rang through the air, striking him into the shoulder and causing him to stop the current strike mid-air.

"Go!" the asari shouted towards her as she pistol whipped one of the separatists that had tried to attack her while she had taken the shot. "We'll keep them of your back," she spoke as the assassins recovered and tackled her to the ground.

The emotional part of her wanted to stay and fight but that part hadn't been calling the shots for years. The logical part of her brain made her run into the direction Kamarov had fled, leaving her companions to deal with the remaining assassins. Injured or not, six against two were hardly optimistic odds. She jumped down the stairs and chose to ignore the terrible feeling in her gut.


Meanwhile

Redford saw the director rush after Kamarov as he manouvered the separatist between himself and his allies who were still trying to get a clear line of fire on either him or his companion, Tela. She was currently escaping the hold of another Iffy trying to pin her to the ground, her biotics giving her the clear advantage in close combat as she could use them to their fullest potential.

He sent a knee into the side of the separatist he was currently grappling with to give himself enough time to lock the man's neck in place before raising the assault rifle slung over his shoulder at another one, using his ally as a human shield. He pulled the trigger, the full-auto setting of the rifle allowing it to unleash its entire magazine in one squeeze, and saw the barriers of one of the gun carrying attackers shatter, a red mist shooting out of his back as the armor-piercing rounds loaded into the service rifle punched through his black armor. He let go of the SR-7, the bullpup rifle swinging back towards him thanks to its sling, and attempted to finish of the separatist in his hold, an armored glove driving into his gut just as he had turned his attention back to him.

The specialist tightened his hold in an attempt to squeeze the last bit of air, and fight, out of the assassin but the man had managed to turn his head just enough to keep Redford from doing that. Grabbing a hold of the specialist's arm, he spun himself out of the hold, opening Redford up to the wrath of the remaining gunman, pistol rounds smashing into the specialist's shields for a few seconds before a ripple sent the man flying, into the railing, bending the metal bars in the process and causing his pistol to fall of the catwalk.

Paying no further attention to him, Redford reached for the now empty SR-7 at his side and before even bothering to try and reload it in one go, he thrusted the muzzle of the gun into the assassin that had just escaped his hold, connecting with his gut while ejecting the empty magazine before smashing the stock of the rifle against his jaw, causing him to stumble back while the specialist went for his scavenged reserve, slapping it into place. The separatist, seeing what Redford was trying to do, charged him but was stopped in his tracks as a foot stomped against his knee, twisting it backwards and allowing the specialist to chamber a round.

The assassin, apparently thriving on adrenaline, managed to get up once more, jumping forward on one leg in a final attempt to get the gun but didn't reach Redford in time, a burst collapsing his kinetic barrier before tearing through his face, causing him to slump down, his hand reaching for Redford but ultimately dropping a few centimeters in front of the now stained shoes of his dress uniform.

Spinning around, he saw Tela throw one of the assassins over the railing, a nasty crunch accompanying the sound of him hitting the ground below. Taking aim at the one creeping up behind her, he managed to get a few rounds down range before the asari wheeled around and smashed a purple glowing fist into the face of the woman, killing her in the process.

That just left two, one of whom was injured, adjusting his stance he shifted his aim only to find the assassin charging him with a knife. Considering his kinetic barriers and his armor, Redford knew he wouldn't be able to down him. Instead the specialist used the SR-7 to block the first attempt of stabbing him, sidestepping the man with a bleeding shoulder in the process and forcing him to wheel around. The separatist twisted the blade in his hand and spun around, the sharp tip of a combat knife now rushing for Redford's face. In the last second the specialist let go of his SR-7, his hands shooting up to block the strike as both of his forearms smashed against the arm guard of the assassin, the very nasty feeling of a fractured wrist shooting through his left hand.

Letting out an angry grunt, the specialist retaliated, quickly grabbing a hold of the assassin's arm, smashing one of his palms against the man's elbow, the crunch followed by the blade falling to the ground indicating that he had managed to break it. The assassin's other hand went for the knife, Reford only a little bit to slow with his attempt to kick it away. He felt this mistake the moment the tip of the blade punctured through the fabric of his uniform, now stuck in thigh. The sting only served to make his next move even more vicious. As the assassin tried to withdraw the blade, Redford cracked the SR-7 over his head, causing him to let go of the blade again as he dropped to the ground. The specialist leveled the rifle at his head, squeezing the trigger until blood shot out of the assassin's head, marking Redford's fourth kill of the day.

As another shot rang out behind him, he spun around, pain shooting through him as he did but the thought of yet another assassin engaging him overwriting the feeling . However he only found the last separatist drop to his knees, a large hole inside his chest as he keeled over, Tela standing over him with a gun in her hand, her armor somewhat bloodied but otherwise surprisingly uninjured considering everything.

The asari rushed over to him as she spotted the knife stuck in his leg, the pain finally getting to him as he flet himself lean against the railing, the SR-7 now dangling on its sling alone.

"Why is it that every time I go somewhere with you, people try to kill me?" she joked.

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," he chuckled before grunting in pain.

"We got to get you to a medic," she urged as she went to assist him.

"Go after the director," he countered as he waved her away, "she'll need all the help she can get."

"Alright, I'll come ba-" she began as she went into the direction of the stairway but her sentence was interrupted as something shook the catwalk around them, causing her to stop and turn around. "What was that?"

"Call me crazy but was that a lifepod?" he guessed.


Five Minutes Earlier

She jumped down the stairs while dodging rounds, fired at her by the armored woman who had turned around to cover Kamarov's advance, by sliding behind a piece of machinery, the sound of the small pellets flying through the air above her a very familiar one. Waiting for the inevitable stop, she switched the magazine of the SIS-8 in her hand and once the pistol of her foe seized to fire, she leaped over the piece of machinery, squeezing the trigger in the process and seeing her bullets punch against a kinetic barrier.

These things really had been easier in the past.

Once her feet connected with the ground, she decided to get up close and personal, the kinetic barriers wouldn't be able to stop something as slow as melee combat and the fact that her foe had decided against wearing a helmet made the move somewhat less suicidal. She would lose a fire fight because she lacked armor, she may just be able to come out on top against the other woman, even if being punched by an armored gauntlet was not exactly her favorite feeling in the world.

Closing the gap with a dash that would've made even her younger self jealous, the Widow Maker expended the magazine of her pistol more as a distraction than an actual attack, leaping at the woman and smashing the SIS-8 across her temple.

Should've worn a helmet.

They both went to the ground and it soon became obvious that while skilled, this woman was not on the level of the far more dangerous forces she had left her allies to deal with. She managed to block another strike of the pistol with one of her hands but failed to stop the director's other hand from hammering into her nose, blood shooting out of it as it broke. Dazed but still somewhat aware of her surroundings, the separatist tried to reach for her own pistol, which had fallen to the ground alongside the two opponents, but was stopped dead in her tracks when the Widow Maker kept pounding her face with a series of punches. When she realised that her foe had stopped struggling, she rose from the unconscious body before emptying the rest of her second magazine into her face, killing her in the process.

She looked up and saw Kamarov kneel down over the object he had brought with him. The man had managed to reach the center of the life support, a large machine responsible for air recycling in front of him and a small corridor leading away from it. One of the catwalks overlooking the circular area lighting up as the sound of an SR-7 being fired echoed through the chamber. At least Redford was still fighting.

As if the universe was helping him, Kamarov turned around just as the director reloaded her weapon with the final magazine, a boxy pistol shooting bullets at her as she dove to the side, only catching a glimpse of the tablet attached to the bomb. She pulled back the slide of her pistol and waited until he stopped firing before once more advancing. The Butcher of Elysium was roughly ten meters away from her, in terms of combat that was a lot of distance to cover without being shot. Rushing out of her cover, she saw Kamarov rise from the ground, a series of rapidly declining digits visible on the device he had just tinkered with.

She'd have to be quick.

Andrej Kamarov raised the pistol again, apparently having saved some of the heat-sink just for this occasion, and fired at her, rounds jumping off her shield as she realised that she couldn't afford another leap into cover. Instead she chose to risk it. One of Kamarov's miniscule rounds overloaded her shields and another grazed her arm, leaving a hot, burning sensation in its wake. The third and final round Kamarov got off before she reached him buried itself in her own gut, one of the most painful places to be hit. In turn she managed to shatter his own kinetic barriers with several well placed shots before hitting the man once just above the hip and twice into the chest, another two rounds missing when she received Kamarov's final round. Shooting a glance at the tablet on the final meters of her dash, she noticed that the man had set a timer, a timer which was currently at three minutes and ten seconds.

She collided with him, causing the man to hit his head on the grey, metal floor, red blood leaking from a wound on the back of his skull as she pointed her pistol at him, only for it to click empty as he smirked at her before striking her injured abdomen with a punch, causing her to roll of him in pain. The director, now laying next to Kamarov reacted just in time to avoid his wrath. Throwing a messy punch at the Butcher as he attempted to get on top of her, she connected with the scarred side of his head, causing him to clutch it in pain.

She forced herself to shoot up as the edges of her vision became somewhat blurry, headbutting Kamarov in the process and removing him from her path as his blood ran into her own eyes. The pain slowed her down but her will kept her from giving in. Seizing the opportunity, she drove another punch into Kamarov's face, hitting him just under his eye and feeling the bone crack upon contact. Having bought herself some time, she turned towards the device.

Her face drew into an expression of horror as she looked at the tablet and realized that the countdown had already lost the two in front of it, now only one minute and fifty seconds remaining before it detonated. Her eyes darted between the device and the room. She was in no condition to defuse it but as her eyes caught the 'Emergency Escape' sign above the corridor, she realised that she may just get it away far enough from Arcturus.

She grunted as she stumbled over to the device, blood dripping on floor as the wounds inflicted by Kamarov opened themselves further due to her movements. Grabbing a hold of the bomb with one hand while keeping her other one on the wound in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood, she began a steady advance towards the corridor. Soon she spotted the escape pod the sign had promised, most likely meant to evacuate technicians working in the area in the event of Arcturus being critically damaged. The effort she had to put into each step grew as the distance between herself and the pod shrank but as she tossed the device inside, a sense of relief washed over her. Now she just had to launch it.

Her hands reached for the lever next to the pod but before she could pull it, she felt a heavy form smash into her, carrying both of them into the pod as the digits on the bomb climbed to one minute.

Kamarov, in spite of his injuries, had trailed her and was now sitting on top of her, his hands wrapping around her throat as he began to choke her.

"I told you that you'd pay," he spat out a bit of blood.

Attempting to remove the hands on her throat, her fingers slipped away as her own blood prevented her from getting a grip strong enough to pry Kamarov off of her.

Then she spotted the red 'Launch' button behind them and kicked for it, coming just short of it as Kamarov pushed down harder.

"The HSA will bleed," Kamarov continued his monologue as her vision shifted between blurry and black, "starting here all of you will bleed," he said as he leaned down to crush her windpipe faster.

This was the opening she had hoped for.

She reached up and punched the already injured side of his face, causing him to let out an unearthly scream and lose his grip on her throat. The director didn't waste any time, well aware of the fact that she'd bleed out sooner than later, and shoved him off just enough for her foot to be able to reach the button.

Kicking it with just forty seconds remaining on the timer, the small door shut itself, a camera attached to the outside of the pod showing her how it distanced itself from Arcturus's belly, the station's shape growing smaller as the thrusters of the pod designed to escape its explosion fired up.

She heard the coughing next to her and turned her head ever so slightly to see both Kamarov and the bomb, the later stained by the blood of the two people sharing an escape pod with it, lying on the floor

"You ruined it, you ruined my masterpiece" he whispered as he stared at the ceiling. "My plan should've-," he spoke in disbelief before growing even more silent, "I lost."

"Do you know why the IFS will always lose? Why people like you will always lose?" the director asked weakly as she placed a hand on her gut, feeling the blood run out of it. "Because at the end of the day you've never fought for anything but your own agenda."

"The HSA is no different," he replied with surprising clarity. Twenty seconds remaining, Arcturus was growing ever smaller in the distance. This should do.

"Yes it is," she replied.

"Is it?" Kamarov said as he turned to her. "You only fought to keep us under your rule, to preserve your own order."

"No, we fight for something else entirely. Something you lost a long time ago, Kamarov," she coughed as the clear picture of a family playing next to a water garden appeared in her mind. She'd be home soon enough.

"And what would that be?" he gasped between a weak laugh.

Ten seconds. This was it.

"Humanity," she smiled as she closed her eyes just as the display shifted to a five.

Neither of the two felt the end, Kamarov's bomb annihilating itself, them, the escape pod but nothing else in the blink of an eye.


Codex: Independet Fringe Systems Defense Force

The militias that made up the bulk of IFS forces in the beginning of the Fringe Wars eventually evolved from small, local units relying on the moment of surprise into a large, well trained and equipped, centralized force capable of going blow for blow with all but the biggest HSA units.

After wrestling control of important industrial centers from the HSA, the IFS was capable of producing its own wargear and the Separatis Seven soon began to establish their own armed forces, recruiting people of all walks of life to be trained by people with past military experience that had sided with the IFS. However in the beginning these groups were not unified under a central authority, acting as a military for their world rather than the IFS.

Upon the foundation of the Senate of the Independent Fringe Systems, another organisation was founded. The Independent Fringe System Defense Force, uniting all militias, commandeered or newly constructed space ships and military assets of the IFS under one banner and one motto, De Oppresso Liber, to free the oppressed.

The IFSDF soon realised that they required a unit to conduct high risk operations and started the practice of pulling the most promising recruits of their ranks into the 1st Specialized Regiment, a group that soon earned themselves the nickname of 'assassins' within HSA' ranks,a name the IFS came to fully embrace.

Until infighting shattered the leadership of the IFS, resulting in the deaths of every important military commander besides the head of the Defense Force's navy, the IFSDF had managed to engage the HSA combined military foces in a mixture of asymmetrical and conventional warfare depending on the theatre of war. IFSDF forces either disbanded themselves or withdrew into the more disorganized 'cells' they had been during the beginning of the war upon the revelation that their leadership had been plotting behind their back.

Military analysts suggest that the IFSDF would've been able to fight the HSA's combined forces for at least another five years before the numerical advantage of the later would've forced them into a conventional defeat, given that no other planets would've joined the rebellion in the time period.


So, chapter 22 is done, marking the end of the next story segment, the last being the one about Haliat and the Reaper foreshadowing. I hope I gave the two people who died a worthy send off and I hope I didn't describe things in a too brutal fashion... sometimes I get carried away trying to make these fights realistic. No kidding, I spent half an hour on the floor trying to see if the stuff I was writing would actually work. It does, if it doesn't then that's probably because of the translation or my inabiltiy to describe stuff.

Anyway, I tried to make this chapter longer than usual and going from here on out the next couple of chapters will probably be a little shorter and the focus will probably drift away for a bit after this very HSA centric story arc. All of this had to be done though, for reasons. Reasons some of you may or may not know. Just know that I know the basic storylines that will lead up to ME 1 and how they are relevant. As of now I've not planned anything that doesn't have a reason to be there.

Now for the record, 156 reviews, 341 favorites and 425 follows. Bit lacking in the review department this time but I'm sure you had your reasons. I hope more of you care to share your thoughts with me this time around.

Do I have something else to say? Not really, I think. Review. I need my fix.

See you around next time.