Chapter 38. Smile For The Camera
2150 CE, THS Umbra
"Anything yet?"
"The envoy vessel reports no progress, General," the communications officer replied.
Desolas Arterius took a sip from his drink. This was the moment it all came down to. If the diplomats aboard the ship did their job right, the galaxy would still stand a chance. The war with the batarians had dragged on for three months and while millions of soldiers and civilians had died on both sides, he knew that things could've turned out far worse than a couple million fresh graves.
There was something else he never would've seen him say twenty years ago.
As morbid and cold as it sounded, the casualties suffered by ground forces hadn't been the reason he had pulled every string he needed to pull to get to this point. His main concern and driving motivation behind preventing a further escalation of this war had been the damage the navies and infrastructures of all conflict parties would've suffered in case of an assault on batarian space. An infantry platoon could be trained in less than a year and just about every citizen of the Hierarchy was capable of serving as a rifleman. A dedicated factory could produce hundreds of tanks each month and it didn't take much longer to train someone in using a VI-assisted maingun than it took to teach a soldier the basics of riflemanship. Space ships and their crews were very different. Depending on their size, class and assignment it could take years to built them. Likewise the turian navy didn't consider a crew fully trained until it had proven itself over the course of several duty rotations. Experienced crews were almost as valuable as the ships they manned and replacing either of the two was far more difficult than giving someone a rifle and teaching them how to hold it.
"Alright, inform me the moment you hear something," Desolas nodded before withdrawing from the bridge of the soon to be out-dated stealth vessel. While the ship he stood on right now had served the Hierarchy well, the glimpses he had gotten at the joint human-turian design currently being worked on overshadowed the Umbra and its sister ships in every possible way. If this 'Normandy-Class' would actually be capable of doing what the project leaders promised, it would be incredibly useful. As the doors to his quarters hissed open, he activated the projector and continued the conversation he had been in before his presence was requested on the bridge.
"Any progress?" the human who likely observed the meeting himself asked after he took a sip of the beverage he somehow always kept within arm's reach, no matter when or where.
"No, they're still negotiating."
"Probably still trying to talk some sense in the batarians," Jack Harper, the director of Cerberus, one of the two human organisations that he was working with, figured. "Anyway, as I was saying, the backlash to this ceasefire on some of our planets is considerable."
"Yes and I am sorry to divide your people," Desolas sighed, well aware of the consequences separatism could have. Even centuries after the Unification War, turians were no strangers to infighting and given that the Hierarchy itself was going against its doctrine of fully subduing anyone who attacked them as well, hardliners, specifically a group based around Taetrus, were once more becoming vocal about the disdain they held for the Council of Primarchs. Contraty to what the rest of the galaxy said, there was a logical answer as to why the Hierarchy maintained the Hastatim Corps. "But all things considered this is the best possible course of action we could've taken. You were there back then, you heard what Doctor T'Soni said."
"You misunderstood me, General," Harper retorted. "I know that a war with the Hegemony would've put us in an even more vulnerable position. I understand that we couldn't fight them, it would've played right into the Harbinger's hands to do so."
"Yet you're worried," Desolas pointed out. "Why?"
"Every time we think we've made progress, we discover another piece of the puzzle that sets us three steps back," the human muttered. "We find an Object Omnicron and destroy it, turns out there are more. We locate the next one, begin to understand how they work and find where they came from only to discover that whoever left them behind also has been building enormous space ships for the last one billion years. Then we realise that something besides the artifacts is acting on Harbinger's behalf, carefully preparing the galaxy for his assault," there was a pause in the human's voice, his stoic tone hiding whatever emotions he was feeling right now. While Desolas was good at reading people, in his profession he had to be, the trained spy was an enigma to him. Unless Harper wanted him to know how he felt, he wouldn't be able to tell. "And to top it all of, we now know that all of this has happened before."
"You're afraid we won't win?" the turian general questioned after coming to a conclusion based soley on what the director had told him.
"No," Harper shook his head,"I am worried that what we think of as our way to victory is actually just another part of a plan we can't yet comprehend."
"So you do think that I made the wrong decision when asking your people to end this war."
"I think that we're projecting our way of waging war on something completely alien," the director explained. "Fleet numbers, worlds, infrastructure and logistical lines only matter if you intend to fight a conventional war but we don't know what the Harbinger considers conventional. Everything we thought we knew about him has turned out to be wrong the moment we learned something else."
"The way I see it," Desolas began,"every time we are proven wrong is a time we get closer to being right. I don't know when we'll find the truth but if we maintain the course we're on right now, it's bound to happen."
"An optimistic sentiment that only works as long as we still have time."
Even if the officer in him knew that he couldn't show any signs of doubting their success for the sake of morale, he had to agree with the director. They had been chasing shadows for nearly two decades and since every encounter with the thralls of their enemy had promised a timely arrival of the Harbinger, the idea that they were running out of time was growing more relevant with every day.
"I can't deny that I understand your worries, Director," Desolas finally admitted. Harper wasn't a rank and file grunt that needed a rousing speech, he could handle the truth, "but as long as we still have time, it's the best thing we can do."
Before the human could reply a bleeping sound on his omni-tool and a similar noise from somewhere beyond the hologram's projection caused them to look at each other. After both of them had opened the message and read its content, they showed a very similar reaction.
"It would seem that your plan was successful," Harper spoke as Desolas himself closed the small text file saying that the Council envoy had managed to talk the batarians into a permanent ceasefire beginning right now. While it wasn't a peace treaty, it had the effect he had desired. Whether it had been the overwhelming force of the Citadel Council, the stalemate of their war effort or the fact that the batarians hadn't achieved their objectives after months of fighting and faced some sort of internal strife because of it that had caused the batarian delegation to crack didn't matter. What mattered was that today they had eliminated a grave danger to their already questionable chances of victory, putting their odds back to the way they had been before this war had put all of them at risk in ways only a few people knew of.
"It would seem so," he replied.
"Small victories are victories nonetheless," the human spoke, somewhat contradicting what he had said before. "I think both of us have different matters to attend to but I hope that you consider what I said."
"Of course I will," Desolas not only prided himself with listening to people, he was convinced that it was a crucial part of being a commander to heed the opinions of those around him.
"Good," Harper. "Get home safely, General."
"Thank you, Director."
And with that the line closed, leaving Desolas alone in his room, a mountain of digital paper work now his only companion and the near constant buzzing accompanied by a new message arriving on his omni-tool indicating that it wouldn't stop growing for some time.
This might have been the one thing he hated about his job.
Sparing a single thought of envy to his brother, who unlike him wasn't about to drown in the massive amount of administrative work associated with moving a turian legion back to its home base, he wondered just what it was that Saren was currently doing. While the younger Spectre had checked in to see how the war, if one could even call the few engagements he had been in such, was affecting Desolas, he had neglected to mention what it was that he was currently doing, only hinting that he was somewhere in the Terminus Systems and 'expanding his network'. Even though he sincerily doubted that Saren was getting himself into the kind of business some Spectre's stumbled into for the sake of their missions, a part of him still wondered about his little brother's activities. Sure, he knew that every Spectre needed to make connections but since his brother had already built a considerable network over his years of service and acquired a quite respectable support structure for his operations, he couldn't help but shake the thought that Saren was doing more than simply hiring informants. Them again Desolas trusted his brother's instincts and whatever it was that Saren was doing had to serve a purpose, much like himself the younger Arterius wasn't one to do something he didn't consider essential to his success. If he wasn't talking to him about it right now, he would have his reasons. Eventually Desolas would hear about it.
As yet another wave of messages came crushing down on him and interrupted his thoughts, the general realised that the workload wouldn't grow any smaller.
No point in fighting it.
Sighing as he powered up the terminal, he got to work.
8. October 2408 AD, Arcturus Station
"Therefore it is with great gratitude and great honor that I bestow this award on you," the chancellor of the HSA finally spoke after listing the series of events that had let her here. After she bowed her head ever so slightly to allow Goyle to hang the medal around her neck, a barrage of applause echoed through the room. Doing as she had been asked to in the briefing that had preceded this public event, Shepard turned towards the audience as the chancellor shook her hand, smiling for the cameras. Only after nearly a minute of standing the same spot and having her picture taken by countless of news outlets, Goyle let go of Shepard's hand and turned towards her.
"You're an example for all of us," the woman spoke as much for the cameras as for Emily, "and I don't think words can describe the debt we owe you. Thank you, Lieutenant."
Unsure of how to answer, the marine simply nodded at her words and, she realised that is sounded ungrateful, hoped that it would soon be over. While she understood the idea behind making the 'heroic deeds' of HSA soldiers famous, she had somehow hoped that she'd avoid being caught in the ordeal. As evident by the second wave of applause now filling the room, that hope had been false. Only when the clapping died down and the cameras began to turn towards the chancellor who was still supposed to make a public statement was she sent of the stage and back towards her relatives, shaking a dozen hands for every meter she got closer towards them.
"I get why you picked a different career," she frowned at her father after finally reaching her parents and sitting down next to them.
"Already growing sick of being a hero?" her father, who in spite of the occasion was dressed in civilian clothing, chuckled. Even if an event like this technically required him to appear in his uniform, she had a rather solid idea as to why Section 13 might allow its specialists to stay anonymous when the cameras were rolling.
"More like growing sick of the cameras," she corrected. "I'm just glad this is over."
"There are worse things than being awarded a Star of Valour, Emily," her mother, who like Emily herself wore her own uniform and commendations, offered in an ironic tone.
"I guess," her tone wasn't much better really. It wasn't just the looks that she had gotten from her mother's side of the family. "Still, I can't wait for N-School. No cameras in Rio. It'll be a nice change."
The slight shift in her father's expression told her everything she needed to know. They had talked about her becoming an N7 and, not unlike when she had first decided to enlist in the first place, her dad had been less than enthusiastic about the idea. While he was proud of her, he had gone out of his way to mention that time and again, she knew that he'd rather have her transfer to a position that didn't involve the kind of work N7s did or as a matter of fact didn't involve any sort of combat.
"You'll be wishing for this press conference during the Crucible," he chuckled, his features growing somewhat brighter as he let on that he, a specialist of Section 13, actually knew every detail about the N7 training but had refrained from telling her anything for the sake of 'not spoiling the surprise', "I know what's coming for you and trust me, when it happens you'll want to be back here."
"Dad, I think you underestimate my dislike for media attention," she shrugged as the chancellor began to address the crowd, speaking about subjects such as the need for unity and compassion to those who had suffered under the attacks and condemning those who called for vengeance and separatism. Even if the ceasefire had only been negotiated three months ago, its effects already rippled through the HSA. Neither the IFS' role in the fighting nor the fact that Goyle had basically spent all of her political favour to convince the majority of parliament to get to this point were doing the situation any favours. "Besides Brazil's a nice place. You could've picked way worse than Rio."
"Trust me, they wanted a place way worse but apparently the navy back then," he shot a joking glance at his wife,"didn't really like the prospect of dragging its special forces through a jungle filled with carnivorous plants and dog-sized bugs."
"And for that I am grateful," Emily offered before joining the partially less than sincere applause the chancellor received upon completing her speech. After a quick series of questions the journalists began to vacate the room, leaving behind only the actual guests and soon enough the other two people who had arrived with her parents stood behind them.
"There you are," her dad spoke as her uncle, Grant, and his wife, and therefore aunt, Tela appeared from the other end of the room. "Thought you pulled a fast one on me. Where did you go?"
"On you? Always. But on my godchild? Come on mate, you know me better than this," the blonde man chuckled before pointing behind him. "Turns out, only blood relatives get seating priority. That stupid usher put us way in the back."
"Which he might have done because you called him 'stupid usher' in the first place," Tela reasoned, the slight accent caused by her actually speaking English instead of her native asari tongue as present as ever.
"While that might be true to a certain extent, the tosser still had it coming when he decided to put us anywhere but the front in the first place."
"As charming as the day I met him," the asari rolled her eyes before turning to Emily. "Glad that it's over, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," she smiled at the former Spectre.
"For what it's worth, I never liked award ceremonies and cameras either."
"So now that you finally honour us with your presence," her father spoke as he looked at his wife, Emily herself, Tela and then finally Grant "What do you say we go back to the hotel, dress into something comfortable," he tucked at the collar of his suit,"find a place to eat, I'm starving, and think about what we're gonna do for the rest of the weekend?"
"Sounds like a plan," her uncle nodded. "I've got some time to kill anyway. Don't have to leave till sunday evening."
"Wait, I thought you didn't get the extended leave," her mother asked as they made their way out of the room. "What changed?"
"Found a stand-in."
"You found a stand-in for teaching the Marvel Course?" her dad repeated,a shock in his voice that let Emily to belief that something about that course made it far from enjoyable. "How did you convince anyone to take that fall for your?"
"Morneau still owed me a favour," Morn-who?
"So you put him up to teach Marvel," and what exactly was Marvel?
"Well, in my defense, he's not entirely alone."
"Who else did you drag into it, Redford?"
"Me? No one. He took care of having company all by himself."
"Maybe, but I'd bet that he learned doing it from you."
"Once more, that might be true to a certain extend but we both know that h-"
"Could the two of you stop bickering for once?" her mother injected into their banter. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the two of you are the married ones," she added much to the amusement of everyone else.
As they walked out of the press center, Emily cracked one of the first genuine smiles of the day. If conferences and cameras meant that her small family could be together like this more often, she could handle a few more.
24. February 2409 AD, Attican Traverse, Independent World Kosh
"Alright, time's running," she informed him before looking around the apartment they had just broken into."Damn this place has to cost a fortune."
"More like two fortunes," he said while walking over to the large glass window overlooking the sprawling metropolis below. Between towers of flawless glass, lush and colourful roof gardens and the hundreds of skycars buzzing on orderly lanes below them it was easy to see why a lot of people considered the megacities on Earth as nothing but poverty ridden, overpopulated slums. Kosh, one of the largest independent colonies in the galaxy and home to several of the most influential industrial conglomerates operating both in and outside of Council space, was the perfect example of how big of a gap still remained between the HSA and the rest of the galaxy. Even if humanity had three centuries of rapid expansionism and scientific breakthroughs on its back, it couldn't hope to catch up on two millennia's worth of space travel any time soon. "Who knew being a corporate tool got you this kind of view?"
"Considering switching careers?" his partner muttered as she powered up the terminal idly sitting on a large wooden table opposite to the window, its orange glow illuminating the otherwise dark apartment.
"And let you do all the fun stuff?" he chuckled. "Nice try, I live for this."
"Should I be worried that you said that while we're breaking and entering?" Yo-yo asked as he began to look around the room.
"From time to time the line between spy and master thief can get really blurry," he shrugged before entering an adjacent bedroom furnitured even more luxurious than the one before it.
The reason they were here was as simple as it was important. In the wake of the batarian attack on the Verge, an event by now referred to as the 'Skyllian Blitz', and the subsequent ceasefire between the two governments, nearly one hundred thousand people had been taken from their homes to be held as both hostages and to be sold on the batarian slave market, a place now even more hostile to humans than before. Confronted with the reality of IFS forces playing a keyrole in defending several colonies from slavers and removing the people's previous belligerence towards them, the HSA had been backed into a corner it couldn't afford to stay in for much longer. With splinter groups either calling for batarian blood or demanding that the administration which had negotiated the ceasefire to be removed from power increasing the uneasy sentiment in the general populace, every uniformed branch of the Human HSA had been put to the task to bring back those who had been taken and disprove the accusation that they had failed at their first, and in the minds of some people only duty, protecting humanity.
At first the task had been surprisingly easy, the trail of those taken had still been hot. Dozens of raids executed by N7 and ASOC forces working with intelligence gathered by both the HSA and the Blue Suns, a paramilitary group funded by his government to combat slaver bands, had seen the liberation of thousands of people from slaver outposts throughout the Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse. But the more people they brought home, the harder it got to track the remaining captives. Many of them vanished into the depths of batarian territory and out of their reach, others were shipped off deeper into the Terminus Systems and in turn bringing every rescue operation closer to sparking yet another conflict between the HSA and the Terminus warlords who hadn't learned from the Mercenary Intervention. With every passing week the chances and the number of humans that they could still save grew smaller and with nearly a month going by without solid intelligence, some members of the HSA' top-brass had started to think about cutting their losses.
If it hadn't been for a Blue Suns vessel stumbling over a ship filled to the brink with missing citizens of the Human Systems Alliance they very likely would've been heard eventually. The moment the news of a transporter belonging to a mining company operating from Kosh had been discovered carrying people taken during the Blitz had reached Cronos Station, had been the moment they had gotten their orders. Go to Kosh, track down the corporate official who had recently acquired what the loading manifest had called the first of several deliveries of 'cheap labour fource' and figure out where they were coming from. If there was still a place holding enough human captives to catch the interest a wealthy corporation, they had to find it.
Knocking his gloved hand against a wall safe, the only thing of interest in this particular room, in an attempt figure out just how thick the material it was made from was, he decided that brute force would not only not do but also be far too obvious and activated the omni-tool on his arm. While he had never been the technically adept part of the team he formed with one Specialist Rachel Young, or as he called her, Yo-yo, Section 13 had given him the tools needed to crack a simple passcode. Running through the required steps one by one, the sound of the magnetic locks coming loose was the only clue he needed. Quickly wiping the interaction of the safe's log, he pulled the handle down and took a look inside, quite disappointed when the only things inside were a gilded gun, a bottle of pink liquor and a presumably very expensive piece of jewelry.
While interesting for a thief, a data drive would've been much more appreciated by the spy.
"You got anything yet?" he asked through his earpiece after closing the safe and searching the usual hiding places throughout the room, checking for hidden drawers or hollow walls only to come up empty handed. By this point he suspected that their mark, like most corporate officials on the payroll of companies using places like Kosh and Illium to indulge in shadier business, simply didn't bother to hide most of what he did because it wasn't technically illegal on the world he did it on.
"A place and a name," Yo-yo replied as he checked his watch, the timer that indicated when the cameras would stop looping and in turn tip off local security that something was up still mercilessly counting towards zero. "It'll have to do."
Moving out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him, he rejoined his partner just as she shut down the terminal. Then as quickly as they had entered, the two specialists left. Pulling the door close behind him, he looked down the hallway behind them to confirm that no one had witnessed their short incursion. When he found it to be empty, he followed Yo-yo towards the elevator that had carried them to the toplevel of the skyscraper in the first place. Taking a moment to once more place the camera inside the elevator on a loop to avoid anyone from figuring out they had been here, the two specialists stepped inside and shortly afterwards the doors closed behind them. Confident in their countermeasures, he opened his mouth.
"Where are we going?"
"A place called the Loop," the brunette woman replied as the glass lift rapidly descended towards the lobby of the apartment complex. "That's where our buyer met his contact. Apparently that nightclub is the place you go to on Kosh if you're looking for workers you don't need to pay."
"And who's the fortunate soul we're looking for?"
"Dindo For, he's a volus and as far as Kosh's colonial authorities are concerned he's working for a transport company."
"A volus?" he repeated, receiving a nod.
"Surprised?" Yo-yo turned to look at him, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Didn't think the little guys had it in them?"
"Actually, yes. You don't exactly picture a volus when you're thinking about slavers."
"Look on the bright side, a volus stands out and won't start a fight. If this goes well, we'll leave Kosh without firing a single shot," she shrugged just as the elevator doors opened, the turian security guard manning the lobby only shortly glancing towards them before returning his attention on the printed gun magazine in his hands, his evident boredom indicating that their countermeasures had worked as intended.
"The volus won't, but his bodyguards might," Morneau countered on their way towards the exit of the building. "Besides, if the guy's selling people for a living, we'd do the galaxy a favour by crossing him off."
"If their contact person dies, they might move their captives. As much as he deserves it, he isn't worth risking our shot at getting some of our people back," his partner reasoned as they left the apartment complex behind them and began their journey towards the nightclub,"besides, we can always come back for him," she echoed his tone.
As they walked through the streets of Kosh, Morneau noted that for a world of its size there was a surprisingly small number of people enjoying the nightlife. Usually one could assume that a high rate of crime led to locals avoiding being out past a certain time but their briefing had explicitly mentioned that criminal activity on the world was at an alltime low and that Kosh was currently considered one of the safest places in the galaxy, both the planetary government increasing the founding of its security forces and companies themselves hiring private contractors to safeguard their assets in fears of being subjected to another Skyllian Blitz contributing to the current situation on the planet.
Eyeing the pair of turians currently guarding the street Yo-yo and him were walking on, he noticed that they themselves were being watched as well. An asari clad in a white armor marked by a somewhat familiar red, three-pronged star carefully observed their every move from a balcony further ahead, a very expensive looking sniper-rifle folded on her back. As both of the guards regularly threw suspicious glances at her, not even bothering to hide that they knew she was there, he began to suspect that there was more going on between the companies that dominated large portions of Kosh and the colonial government that was technically in charge of the planet than a small bureaucratic dispute. Two powerful groups with little trust for each other were always dangerous and the locals presumably tried to stay out of the streets just in case either of the two parties decided to start shooting.
"You saw the sniper?" he muttered before they took yet another turn, the fascade of the nightclub coming into view.
"Yes. She was Final Wave, let's just hope that they aren't on For's payroll as well. They're trouble," That's where he had seen the insignia before, it belonged to the group regularly doing the Shadow Broker's wetwork but still somehow managed to maintain a business on the Citadel. "Alright, we're here. You set, Magic?"
"What do you think?"
Morneau and Young came to a stop some distance in front of the building and once more the lack of people became evident. Instead of the kind of line one expected to find in front of a nightclub apparently pretty popular throughout this part of town, the only other person around was a batarian bouncer taking a smoke break, an orange glint growing brighter as he pulled in a final breath before exhaling a small, grey cloud into the light of the club's entrance and tossing the cigarette to the ground. When he was about to head inside, the mild temperature of Kosh's evening presumably a bit too cold for a member of a species which had evolved on a tropical planet, he spotted them and visibly sighed.
"Just one guy," Morneau reasoned, a familiar feeling tingling through his spine as his biotics began to flare up in his hands, preparing to lash out. "Let's make it quick."
"Let's not make it anything yet, I've got an idea," Yo-yo countered, her more cautious nature that admittedly had saved him in the past surfacing. Since he had absolutely no reason to doubt her, he decided to go with it. Sharing a look wit her, Morneau shrugged.
"All yours," he offered before his partner closed the distance between the batarian and herself, getting just close enough to get her point across.
"We're full," the batarian called towards them. "Beat it."
"Yeah, I can practically hear the crowd from here," she said before letting the silent streets speak for themselves. "But I'm sure you can squeeze in two more, right?"
"If I say it's full, then it's full. If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of here, human," he replied before turning away.
"Is that a threat?"
"No. It's a warning," the batarian growled as he reached for something in the pouches of his suit and in turn caused Morneau's hand to instinctively travel towards the pistol concealed by his own jacket. Only when he turned around and instead of a gun had produced a small metal box and another cigarette from it did the specialists grip on his own weapon loosen. Sticking the paper roll into his mouth and lighting it, the bouncer inhaled exactly once before flicking off the first pieces of ash. "For your own sake, go home or find another club. If you go in there, chances are you won't come out again."
"We can take care of ourselves."
"So can they," the batarian sighed as he again turned around and leaned against the wall. "Some of the people in there are the kind of scum you humans really don't want to be close to right now or ever again. They don't like you and they won't bother hiding how they feel either. They're slavers, they're dangerous and they have enough pull on Kosh to get away with double murder."
"Which is why we're here," Yo-yo replied, picking up on the disdain in the batarians voice and offering a mischievous grin. "Chances are if you let us inside, one of them will get what's coming for him soon enough."
Sticking the cigarette into his mouth, the batarian pulled on it once more, the orange glint traveling closer to his mouth with every moment right until he removed it from his mouth to look around himself. Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing, he briefly locked eyes with Morneau himself before nodding towards the door.
"I don't know who you are and frankly, I don't care. Something tells me I'm better off not knowing either way," the batarian began, "what I do know however is that these dirt bags had it coming for a long time." the bouncer explained,"so don't let me stop you but don't say I didn't warn you after they throw you down the garbage chute either."
"You might want to get out of here, just in case things get ugly," Young offered as Morneau caught up with her.
"I'm used to ugly, human," the deep voice rumored before pulling open the door. "Just make sure you don't hit the wrong people while you're in there."
As they stepped into the dark hallway of the club, voices and faint music now actually audible, the two specialists slowly but steadily wandered closer towards the entrance of the actual club. Peaking through the door, he could see a crowd of people filling the dance floor and make out another, guarded entrance behind them. While they attempted to hide it under their clothes, he could already tell that both of them were armed and armored. If he had to take a bet, he would've guessed that For was beyond that door and that they would never let them walk in just like that. Placing his hand on the door, he turned to his partner.
"Think you can convince them as well?" he inquired as he mustered his surroundings. Even if he was completely convinced that they'd be able to take them out, he didn't like the odds of the guards opening fire in the process. Both specialists had shields and he himself even had his biotic barriers to fall back on but the people who'd be caught in the crossfire would be torn to shreds. Unlike him, it wasn't their job to be shot at so if they could find a way to get beyond that door that didn't involve violence, he'd take it.
"Them? Probably not," she admitted before looking at the door itself."But they aren't the ones I have to convince. For will be listening and if he thinks he can make a profit by talking to us, he'll tell them to let us in."
He could agree with that logic.
"After you," he nodded after opening the door and waving his hand into the club.
Stepping past him and walking towards the crowd, Yo-yo confidently marched towards the VIP door, navigating the mass of people with practiced ease while avoiding being dragged into dances by some eager asari. Since he would hardly be of any help from all the way over here, he decided to throw himself into the breach as well. Weaving through the intoxicated clubgoers, he focused on keeping his eyes on the sole other human, a task made rather easy by the fact that everyone else was either blue, purple or scaly. Tracking her progress as he dodged an intoxicated salarian stumbling towards what he assumed to be his friends, he took a few more moments to actually steer clear of the most crowded part of the dance floor. When he finally managed to break free, the other specialist had already approached the guards.
"I hear this is the place you go to if you want to meet Dindo For," he could make out over the sound of the music.
"What makes you think he wants to meet you?" the salarian guard retorted. "Your kind isn't welcome here. Leave."
"My kind? I can see that," she shrugged as he got into something of a staring contest with the turian occupying the other side of the door. "But what about my money?"
"If you're looking for a meeting, make an appointment."
"People like me don't make appointments," Yo-yo protested, perfectly delivering the arrogance the kind of person she was pretending to be would have.
"People like you?" the salarian repeated as the turian next to him tapped the side of his hip to make it clear to Morneau that he was in fact armed. "Get out of here before I show you what people like you get."
"Either tell For that I'm here to make a deal or tell him that you lost him a fortune," she countered as she practically jabbed her finger into the salarian's chest and causing him to take a step back. "Your choice."
"I'm not going to repeat my-" the guard began only for his omni-tool to flare up. As his features practically turned into stone to hide his frustration, he stepped aside. "You may go inside."
Throwing a smirk at the turian guard, he followed Yo-yo through the now opened door and into the VIP section, immediately realising that the room consisted of nothing but an office, a desk, a computer terminal and two chairs being the only pieces of notable furniture. This wasn't what he had pictured. Taking in the volus sitting int he chair, his bronze environment suit clashing with the otherwise spartan room and glancing at the asari guard behind him, he crossed his arms and waited for Young to continue her play.
"You mentioned a deal, Earth-clan?" the small alien questioned as his weirdly shaped hands kept typing on the terminal. "Before you answer, consider that my patience in regards to humans is rather short at the moment. Your kind has lost me a lot of money in the last years." As if clued by his words, a purple ripple danced over the hands of the asari and for a moment Morneau considered to show her that she wasn't the only one who could do that little trick.
"Simple, I work for a company looking to replace some troublesome employees with more," she waved her hands before producing an account HSAIS had created for bribes on her omni-tool, "compliant workers. We'd be willing to pay you a handsome reward if you were to point us in a direction where we can acquire workers that meet our needs."
"Which company is it that you represent?"
"One which would like to stay anonymous," the specialist replied before adding to the number displayed on the holographic screen. "Will this be an issue?"
"You value privacy, I can understand that," the volus nodded. "Why come to me? There are dozens of people who work in the same business as me."
"Because you seem to have access to something increasingly rare these days."
"And what would that be?"
"My people," Yo-yo stated dryly. "If we suddenly started employing salarians, people would start asking questions. My company needs the workers to be human."
"It is a special kind of depravity to put your own kind in shackles, Earth-clan," the volus chuckled between the mechanical sound of his breathing apparatus.
"In our business, profit supersedes morals. I don't think I have to explain that to you," she replied. In a way it was both impressive and scary that she could seamlessly slip into whatever role the situation called for. Section 13 specialists were good at being someone else, it came with the job, but she really took the performance to another level.
"I could set you up," the volus spoke again. "Organize the shipments, outline a payment plan, contact my people."
"None of that will be necessary. The only thing you need to do is to tell us," she said before adding even more to the number displayed on her omni-tool,"is where we can find what we're looking for."
"You want me to disclose my source?"
"Will that be a problem?" Yo-yo asked after typing on her omni-tool once more.
"I think," the volus began after looking at the sum, unaware that HSAIS would not only never actually pay him but also lock him out of all of his funds in less than twenty four hours, "not."
"Good," the specialist quipped as she sent the transfer all the while setting off the process that would lock down the volus' accounts. As For typed on his terminal, right now finding the desired sum of credit on his account, he looked back at the brunette woman.
"My source is a moon called Torfan. They still hold a large supply of humans there," he stated as Young herself received a message on her omni-tool. "These are the coordinates. Come to me again if you need anything else."
"A pleasure doing business with you," the specialist bowed her head ever so slightly before turning on her heel and making her way back to the door, stopping just in front of it before addressing the volus for a final time, "and don't worry, if your source is what we hope it to be, we might visit you again sooner than you'd like."
"If you keep paying like this, I won't mind another visit," For called after them. Blinded by greed, he didn't even realise that the specialist had just given him a subtle death threat. While they personally couldn't take him out until this so called 'Torfan' had been cleared, the days of the volus would soon be numbered. HSAIS didn't make a habit out of letting people who sold humans for a living get off easy and accidents happened to even the most careful people.
4. March 2409 AD, Korfal System, HSASV Austerlitz
"Four sublevels, dozens of rooms constructed like a maze, god knows how many slavers and a ton civies in between," Hofmann muttered while adjusting the sights of his rifle. "Why is it that we never get the fun assignments?"
"You wanna join the grunts and go play dodge ball with a bunch of batarian skirmishers, be my guest," Miller shrugged as he inspected the edge of his combat knife, the glint of the hangar's lights reflecting of the polished steel right until it vanished in its sheath. "I'm right where I want to be."
Both of them had a would be a tough mission, maybe the hardest one in his career but everyone agreed, they were the last and best hope of the people being held captive on the desolate planet below them. N7s were good, there was no doubt in that, but unlike their army counterpart, the navy's special forces weren't exactly known for subtly. Given the size of the complex, only ASOC could get in without being noticed and only ASOC could shut down the base's defenses before the slavers moved the reason the HSA had cleared this operation in the first place out of its reach. Spread out over four separate fortresses on the desolate moon below them nine thousand human colonists waited to be sold to the highest bidder. In his professional opinion, the intel they had on the place was far too little to actually go in as hard and as fast as they were about to. They didn't know how many slavers were waiting for them and they didn't know how close enemy reinforcements were to their target. They only had a basic scan of the area and a vague idea of how the fortress worked.
But it was either now or never, their time frame was closing.
Unless they wanted to forfeit nine thousand lives, they had to act and in his personal opinion the risk was worth the reward. He had seen how their enemy treated their captives and that had been before humans had become the most prized possession of any slaver looking for someone to torment. As long as he was still breathing, he'd take every chance to spare someone from going through something like that.
"Cut the chatter and ready up," he called on his way to the Kodiak, an SR-8 flung over his shoulder and an optical camouflage device strapped to his belt. Doing as they were told, the members of Phantom Squad, one of four ASOC teams that would converge on the biggest of the four slaver bunkers, fell in line behind him and boarded the shuttle. As they strapped into their harnesses, Haugen pulled his helmet over his head mere moments before a transmission came through.
"All HSA forces receiving this transmission, stop what you're doing and listen up," the raspy voice of the commander of this entire operation, Rear Admiral Steven Hackett, sounded. "We are making our final approach now and Planetfall will begin in five minutes," he explained with a tone shaped by years of command. "The coming hours will be tough. The slavers are prepared, they know the lay of the land and they're ready for a fight. But no matter how deep they withdraw into their bases, no matter how many traps they prepare or how many ambushes they plant, they will only delay the inevitable. All of us are here for the same reason. Yesterday they took our people from their homes, today we bring them back. Give them hell, Hackett out."
"That didn't sound like any squid I ever met," Miller mused as the doors of the Kodiak were pulled close by a crewman now looking at him. "No offense."
"The guy wasn't always a squid," Hofmann replied. "He used to be Ordnance Delivery Group before the Iffys buried his team under three stories worth of parking deck. It didn't kill him but it gave him some nasty nerve damage," as the Staff Sergeant kept talking, Haugen began to remember the rest of the story, "after he dragged his guys back to base, the navy realised that he couldn't do his job anymore and tried to give him an honorable discharge. He didn't like that a bit and long story short, ODG pulled some strings and had him retrained as a bridge officer instead."
"No wonder I already like him," the younger sergeant nodded his approval. "That's impressive."
"Damn right it is. If only all of top-brass could be like him."
Hearing the engines of the shuttle flare to life, Haugen checked over his gear for a final time to keep himself busy. He never liked orbital insertions, something about sitting in a flying target and hoping that they weren't blown from the skies didn't sit well with him. Avoiding that on as many occasions as possible had been one of the reasons he had picked the army over the marines in the first place. Looking through the 'window' of the Kodiak as it flew out of the hangar of the Austerlitz, it was hard to miss Torfan. It's brownish surface dominated most of his view, only a few green silhouettes of human vessels, rows of shuttles, their escort interceptors and a few recently destroyed hostile ships standing out against the background.
Sadly things would look differently on the ground.
The shuttle began to shake as it broke through the thick atmosphere of Torfan, visibility outside being reduced to basically zero once they dove into the heavy clouds, and Haugen felt himself getting pressed into his harness. He understood the basic concept behind Kodiak pilots quite literally diving towards the ground, the quicker they were, the less likely they were to be shot down, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. As the clouds grew thinner and their pilot began to pull up, a message appeared on his HUD, informing him that the majority of their forces would now land, launching the ground assault meant to bind the enemy forces in one location and make them easy prey once ASOC could shut down their defenses. Just as their shuttle, a Kodiak fitted with equipment meant to keep it hidden from anything besides visual identification, broke off with the rest of the ASOC teams assigned to this fortress, the marines accompanying them did what they were meant to. Touching down on the dirt-brown soil that covered most of Torfan's inhospitable surface and giving the batarians the fight they were looking for.
Small figures started to make their way to one of the only notable landmarks around them, the mountainside in which the front of the base was built and took up positions. Just as their opponents opened fire, the large Paladins usually employed to break through enemy lines were detached from their own transports and without further delay tore past their smaller comrades, their purpose during this particular operation mostly being to draw fire, a task made all the easier by their unique approach to combat. As the past had shown, most non-human forces still had some difficulties when it came to actually bringing down a Paladin.
While a sufficiently mechanized military such as the turian or batarian one could respectively use guided anti-tank missiles or simply overwhelming firepower to quickly immobilize or destroy it, forces based around smaller, infantry-heavy doctrines simply lacked the amount of heavy weaponry needed to destroy something as mobile and deadly as a Paladin before it did considerable damage. The tactics both the HSA and the IFS had developed to counter each other once the combat suits had been deployed on both sides were largely based around using their own mechs to push the hostile ones into a situation where they couldn't make use of their advantage. And since the HSA, whether through genuinely being incapable of adapting the neural technology that made the Paladin's feasible in the first place to aliens or keeping the company that built the suits from doing so by more shady means, remained the sole user of the technology, that tactic wasn't an option for the justifiably terrified slavers currently pouring a volley of small arms fire down range.
"All ASOC callsigns, prepare for deployment. Get in there and shut down their defenses," the moment he heard those words he undid the harness and rose to his feet. Grabbing a hold of a sling hanging from the Kodiak's ceiling, he nodded towards the crew member who went on to pull open the door of the shuttle, revealing the air vents that would serve as their way in.
"Status update," the disembodied voice of their commander added.
"Ghost ready."
"Wraith standing by."
"Specter all set."
"Phantom in position," he finished as Hofmann took his place at the door, the winds blowing a thin layer of dust into their direction right until the Kodiak came to a sudden stop over the metal structure reaching upwards from within the mountain.
"All ASOC callsigns, your mission is a go."
That was all he needed to hear.
Jumping out of the shuttle, which left them the moment Miller's feet touched the brown soil below them, they rushed over to the airducts and got to work, cutting through the exterior of the airducts with a bright plasma torch. After creating a hole big enough for them to fit through, Haugen kicked the now loose metal penal into the shaft and heard it clitter against the floor of the airduct. Peaking through the hole, he noted the lack of gunfire in his direction and in turn figured that their plan was working as intended. Satisfied with the situation down below, the ASOC officer looked behind himself to confirm that Hofmann had made the necessary preparations and tossed a thin rope towards his subordinate who swiftly fastened it to the anchor now embedded deep in the ground. After throwing the rope through their makeshift entrance, Haugen stepped to the edge of the hole before sliding down the rope, a green filter laying itself over his vision as he got deeper into the shaft. When his feet touched the ground again, he lifted his SR-8 and scanned his surroundings, providing cover until three thuds marked the arrival of the rest of his team sounded behind him. Pointing his hand at one of the smaller entrances, he hunched down next to their path and let one member of his team go past him. As much as he disliked it, being the leader of the team meant that he wasn't supposed to take point.
"Phantom-Squad has breached the perimeter. Moving towards the objective now," he muttered into his radio as Miller took point, the marker inside their HUDs showing them where they'd be able to exit the confined airduct, or at least where ground penetrating scanners assumed they could exit. Carefully maneuvering through the dark maze of corridors, Haugen was well aware that all it took was one mistake before someone would riddle the thin metal floor below them with bullets. One too loud step, one too observant batarian or simple bad luck could put a stop to their mission before it even really began. Shoving the thoughts about his own demise away as far as he possibly could, he remained focus on the soldier in front of him in preparation for the next phase of the operation. Tapping the back of the operative's helmet as their position aligned with the spot the scanners had marked, he took a knee.
"Hold here," he whispered through the squad intercom and Miller froze in place. "That's the spot."
"Roger that, let's light this bitch up," the man replied before igniting the device in his hand. As he began to cut, a bright blue light sparked into existence and soon combined itself with the orange glow of melting metal, rendering the green filter that had previously assisted him in finding his way through the dark useless. Soon the soldier finished creating a hole big enough to fit each of the four soldiers through and yet another makeshift entrance revealed itself to them.
"Cloak and drop," he informed his unit as the soldiers began to disappear. As soon as their optical camouflage was complete, Miller jumped through the hole, landing in the hallway below them. When he wasn't immediately shot to death, Haugen and the rest of the squad followed through the hole and dropped into the dark-grey interior of the bunker, scanning their surroundings to make sure they weren't about to walk into an ambush. Normally they now would've proceeded to hide their tracks, reattaching the piece of metal to maintain the illusion that no one had entered the base, but their timeframe didn't allow for that. They had to get moving, for all they knew the slavers could already be moving their captives to an unknown location.
"Diamond formation, Hofmann you've got our back," he announced as at least removed the piece of metal from the center of the corridor before doing precisely what he wasn't supposed to do, take point. "Let's move."
The four barely visible figures formed up and began to walk through the bunker, heading towards the area orbital reconnaissance had described as being the 'most likely' location of the fortress' command center. Keeping his rifle steady and ready to fire at any moment, he spun around the corner and pressed onward, noting that there were several indentations in the walls. He had read about these things in a mission report, retractable barriers used to divide hostile forces and turn tip the odds of any fire fight into the favour of the slavers. Should they be spotted right now, they'd have to make a run for it if they didn't want to be trapped. Glancing at the map depicted on his HUD as they came up to the next intersection, facing three nearly identical pathways, he took a moment to ensure that they stayed on the right track before taking a right. After exactly three steps Haugen raised his fist, the faintest sound of boots hitting steel causing his unit to break up the diamond formation and press themselves against the edges of the wall. While the tactic was risky, chances were that whoever was about to step into their view would simply stumble past them. Their orders were clear, stay silent as long as possible. Any shot they fired from within the fortress before reaching the captives could spell disaster.
"Then tell them to hurry up," an angry sounding voice roared through the corridor, two pairs of footsteps hitting the floor in unison. "Our defenses won't hold forever. We need those transports ready right now."
"Yes, Commander," it came back and moments later two batarians, their mismatched and cheap armor indicating that they were in fact not part of the Hegemony's military, stepped into view. Haugen aligned his scope with the head of the first batarian and began to slow his breathing. They were invisible but they weren't inaudible, one of the things that was most likely to compromise a cloaked ASOC team was their enemies hearing something that caused them to look more closely. With their camo at nearly full strength and the lighting mostly artificial, they were as close to invisible as they'd ever get but that was it, they could still be heard, felt or depending on their enemies, smelled.
"What else did you have to tell me?" the commander asked as Haugen himself stayed focused on keeping his sights on the batarian's head.
"A patrol noticed damage to one of our airducts."
"Wha-" Had the batarian led with that sentence, he could've avoided what happened next.
His squad didn't need him to tell them what they were supposed to do, they simply reacted to what they saw him do. As his finger slid to the trigger and unleashed a single, silenced burst that tore through the commander's throat before he could even think about giving his reply, the head of the other batarian exploded in a similar fashion. Before they even hit the floor, the team once more began moving. If one of their breach points had been found, they needed to move. Going as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, his team followed his lead through the complex and towards their objective.
"Wait, you hear that?" Hofmann suddenly whispered and sure enough, Haugen could make out the growing sound of metal smashing against metal. Recalling the mission report he had read and remembering his earlier observation, it didn't take him long to connect the dots.
"Double time it to the objective, go, now!" he quite nearly shouted through the squad intercom as metal barriers began to shoot out of the walls behind them. Waving his squadmates past him, he realised that he had to start running right now if he didn't want to get trapped or crushed. Haugen dashed through the corridor as the metallic sounds grew louder. Quite literally throwing himself down the stairs just before one of the barriers could crush his feet, he landed hard and only noticed that the sound had stopped when his radio came to life.
"This Wraith-Lead," another squadleader began,"we hit a dead end on the third level. Rerouting to Specter right now."
"I advise against that, Wraith-Lead," the mentioned leader of Specter Squad replied almost immediately. "We just got locked down as well. Gonna have to do a lot of cutting before we're anywhere close to the target. How's it looking on your end, Ghost?"
"God damn terrible," a voice that most certainly didn't belong to Ghost-Lead replied between the sounds of suppressed gunfire. "We've got to shoot our way out. Ghost-Two, out!"
"Did anyone make it to the fourth level?" Rear Admiral Hackett, who had listened in on the increasingly worsening situation asked before Haugen's eyes darted to the map to answer that question.
"Yes, Sir," he spoke up while climbing to his feet. "Phantom-Squad got through. We're on Level Four and enroute to the objective."
"One out of four," the man muttered. "Phantom-Lead, can you reach the command center before the batarians realise you made it through or do you need the marines to break through right now?"
He had seen how these fortresses were built. A frontal assault against onea s big as this one, even with the support of Paladins, was nearly suicidal. Marines were by no means push overs but without air support, which might bring down the ceiling ontop of the people they were trying to save, they'd take massive casualties. Looking at his squad and receiving three immediate nods, he pushed the sent button on his radio.
"Yes, Sir, we can make it."
"Is that your ASOC bravado talking or is that your honest assessment, Phantom-Lead?"
"Honest assessment, Sir."
"Understood, good hunting, Phantom-Lead. Hackett out."
Codex: Optical Camouflage
Optical camouflage or as some call it the 'tactical cloak' is one of several examples of more than one species wanting to do one thing and finding different ways to achieve it. Whether through bending the light around the user or building a suit capable of adapting to its surroundings to blend in nearly flawlessly, just about every species has at one point or another attempted to render itself by mercenaries and special forces alike, it takes a surprising amount of training before someone using active camouflage is capable of not being noticed. While the user might be removed from visual means of detection, noise discipline and control over ones movements play a keyrole in ensuring that they remain undetected.
While considered a new invention on the galactic scale, only being made functional shortly before the Geth War, it should be noted that humanity managed to design functioning and surprisingly simple visual cloaking technology after only 150 years of space travel, improving it ever since and making active camoflague one of the few areas in which the HSA could be considered a leading party.
A/N: So, here we go. This is how Torfan starts.
This chapter is concluding things and setting up things and I am really interested to see just how much you can read into some of its parts from here on out.
Besides that awfully cryptic line, I only really have one part that I want to talk about.
I didn't actually plan for the part that concerns finding out they have to go to Torfan to be this big but.. it kind of got a life on its own and I decided to just roll with it, if it's easy to write, why not?
Now, what I really struggled with was that I only really ever had one other pair of Section 13 agents to go back on and seriously wanted to avoid making Morneau and Yo-yo just a copy of Redford and Alec Shepard, the former of whom I like to think of as one of the best parts of Semper Vigilo.(sue me, I love my OCs) Sure, you could say that since they were the ones who trained they're gonna influence them but they are their own people and going from here on out, I'll be extra sure to keep it like that due to how Section 13 scenes usually work (two specialist playing of each other's personalities because just about everyone else they interact with is mostly not gonna show up again) It's really important for me that every named/recurring/main character has his or her owned defined personality and so yeah...
Adding to that, I do realise that most of Morneau's scene is passive and I did that intentionally. Since he and Yo-yo follow the same principle that Redford and Alec Shepard follow but Yo-yo lacked her own introduction, something both dad!shep and Redford had before ever interacting with each other, I used this scene to outline the kind of character she is.
Now... I don't really have anything else to say so yeah.. (I did realise that I say so yeah a lot in A/Ns but I don't plan on changing it)
Oh yeah, I do have an excuse as to why I'm late, again, these past days I've been kind of bingewatching Life is Strange and its prequel, Before the Storm and god damn... if I ever manage to hit the levels of chemistry some of those characters have in the prequel, don't tell me cause then I'll start to get seriously cocky. I am usually not one for the kind of genre LiS is but before the storm's episode two finally managed to get me. Some of that shit was so cute, it should be outlawed.
So, now I'm done.
Let me know what you think about the chapter, review it, and while you're add it tell me what you read into some parts of the chapter. Mostly to entertain me.
For the record we're at 312 reviews, 520 favorites and 629 favorites.
See you around next time.
