Chapter 45. Danger Close


23. August 2414 AD, Citadel, Office of Councilor Benezia

The last two months of his life had been interesting to say the least. While he had always suspected that Saren was keeping something from him, he never would've dreamed that it would turn out to be something nearly as serious as the literal fate of the galaxy. Personally he had always assumed that the reason why the turian wasn't telling him what had been on his mind all this years, what had been responsible for him dropping off the radar for months at the time, was because he was part of some shady long-term operation that he knew Anderson wouldn't approve of, something that he'd rather keep to himself for the sake of their friendship.

To say he was surprised when it had turned out that Saren, the turian's brother and a bunch of other high-profile individuals, humans among them, had been trying to avoid what could possibly bring about the end of galactic civilization, would've been an understatement. In truth, David Anderson found himself overwhelmed by the things he was now aware off. Between these cybernetic 'husks', the artifacts, the enormous space ships or the chance of being turned into a pawn of the enigmatic figure behind all of them, the Harbinger, because of being around any of these things for only a moment too long, the former N7 still hadn't figured out what disturbed him the most.

No, that wasn't entirely true.

While all of these things were terrifying in their own right, there was no arguing in that, the thing that disturbed him the most was the fact that someone at some point had decided that all of this should be kept a closely guarded secret until further notice. Even though it wasn't a surprise that this was happening given Section 13's involvement, just about no one loved keeping secrets as much as the Intelligence Service's go-to problem solvers or, depending on the day, problem silencers, it still bothered him. He might've agreed to keep the secret for Saren's sake but that didn't make it right, it just meant that he was doing something he knew to be wrong.

While Anderson got that telling everyone just how screwed they actually were wasn't a good idea, he didn't see how keeping it a secret would help them either. If there were more of these Leviathans, which seemed more than likely, and if the geth were somehow in on their plan, which made sense given the fact that they had been flying side by side with one of them, they'd need every last ship and every last rifle the galaxy could offer to even stand a chance at winning. Keeping things quiet and only telling a select number of people what was going on was the surest way to not achieve that.

They needed to rally people, not keep them in the dark.

He let out a long sigh, which drew the attention of the other three people in the room, and reminded him that he had a whole other problem to take care of at the moment. After they had barely escaped the geth, Saren, Doctor T'Soni and he himself had been called by a very aggregated Councilor Benezia who had order them to return to the Citadel immediately, the reasons for which he could only guess. Was it the fact that they had dragged her daughter into a life-threatening situation or had the asari realised that the excuse they had given to the Council for heading into the Perseus Veil had been a lie? Both were equally viable in his opinion given the situation they were now in.

"Spectres are agents of the Council. They're selected from the best the galaxy has to offer and act as the first and last line of our defense. They get the most difficult assignments and face the most dangerous opponents," the councilor began as she folded her hands, looking at the three people sitting across her desk. "In order to achieve the task we give, they can act outside of the law and they recieve nearly complete operational freedom," a pause followed the brief summary of the speech every Spectre got upon his or her induction. "However nearly does not mean absolute," she clarified, giving them ample time to let the words sink in. "Spectres are still accountable for their actions and they're still expected to report their doings to the body they're sworn to serve, the Council," Councilor Benezia said before her eyes narrowed ever so and the diplomatic tone she had adopted up to now gave way to a far more serious one, "which is precisely why I'd like to hear from you why I was notified of your actions not through you personally but through the agent I sent after you when I heard that my daughter would be accompanying you on one of your missions."

Anderson got that mothers didn't like to put their children in danger but sending an agent, who had likely been another Spectre that the asari councilor kept on speed dial for instances such as this one, after your offspring seemed rather overbearing. While an argument could be made that being the daughter of a councilor put the doctor into particular danger when working with a Spectre, something told him that this was far from the first time Doctor T'Soni's mother had gone through such lengths to keep tabs on her.

"Mother I-" the younger asari began only to be shut down almost immediately.

"I was not talking to you, Liara," the councilor replied. "We will talk about your own transgressions at a later point." Anderson frowned at that. Apparently overbearingness was not a concept her mother was familiar with. "So, Agent Arterius, Agent Anderson," the older asari said after shutting her daughter down, "what was it that you were doing in the Perseus Veil?" Just like Saren had told him, Anderson stayed quiet. While a part of him wanted to scream at the councilor just what was out there, he knew that it wasn't his secret to tell, even if it would very likely get them off the hook.

"Conducting an investigation into a smuggler ring," the turian Spectre replied just as the asari councilor was about to repeat herself. If Anderson had to take a guess, Saren was stalling, which in turn raised the question just what it was that he was waiting for.

"I fail to see how such an investigation would require the attention of an archeologist such as my daughter," Councilor Benezia countered not a second after.

"The smugglers we tracked specialize in prothean artifacts," Saren lied nearly flawlessly, something Anderson had rarely see him do. He just hoped that his friend had something to back this story up, otherwise they'd be in for even more trouble than before. "Given your daughter's reputation and my own lack of expertise in the matter, I asked her to accompany me and Agent Anderson to help us with locating the source of their supply and shut them down for good."

"Setting aside the fact that there are different ways to identify prothean technology and its origin that don't involve my daughter," the older asari spoke in a tone that ,while still carrying the grace all matriarchs seemed to adapt over the years, was filled with pure skepticism. "Why didn't you feel the need to inform us of this situation earlier? Withholding prothean technology is a serious crime and any offenders should be reported at the first possible instance."

"I had reason to believe that every minute I spent not pursuing them would allow them to cause even more harm to a major undiscovered prothean site. It was also for this reason that I enlisted the help of Agent Anderson. Time was of the essence," he had to give it to the turian, for someone hailing from a species stereotypically associated with being too honest for their own good, Saren was a fantastic liar. "Furthermore I did not wish to offer an incomplete report to the council."

"Is this true, Agent Anderson?" the councilor asked to which he simply nodded. He wasn't an expert at reading facial expressions, especially not with aliens, but given the uncanny similarity between his own people and the asari, Anderson could tell that she wasn't buying any of what they were saying. "Very well. May I see your files in regards to this operation, Agent Arterius?"

As Saren was about to open his mouth, the door to Benezia's office came open, drawing the attention of the councilor, her daughter and, of course, the two Spectres.

"There won't be any need for that," the salarian councilor, Valern, said as he stepped into the office. "Agent Arterius was acting under my direct supervision," he began to explain. "And as far as I am concerned, you have already taken up more than enough of his time." So this was what Saren had been waiting for. The turian had mentioned that a high-ranking salarian was part of their operation but Anderson never would've guessed that it would be the councilor of all people. In retrospective, this explained a lot of things, namely why exactly a turian Spectre had been the go-to agent of the salarian councilor ever since he had entered office. If they were working together, Valern could cover for Saren every time he had to chase another lead. "Now unless you have anything to ask of Agent Arterius, I'd ask that you let him return to his assignment. It is after all a time sensitive one," the salarian added in a slightly slower version of the rapid speech his species was known to talk in.

"My apologizes Valern, I did not realise that Agent Arterius was acting under your authority," Benezia replied as she returned to her diplomatic tone as if a switch had been flicked in her. She wouldn't fool Anderson again. There was a whole other side to the councilor and he had just caught a glance of it. "You are of course free to go, agents," the asari gave them a smile. "I wish you continued success in your undertakings and thank you for your continued service to this council."

"Thank you, Benezia," Valern nodded as Anderson, Saren and the doctor began to rise from their seats. "I am certain all of this was just a misunderstanding."

"Of course," the asari spoke gracefully before they began to withdraw from the office one after another to follow the salarian. "May I offer a word of advice, Agents?" the asari councilor called after them a few moments later.

"Yes, Councilor?" Saren replied, stopping just as he and Anderson were about to leave the office

"Whatever insanity it is that the two of you are really invovled in," the asari spoke in a cold tone that deeply contrasted her entire image. "I suggest that you keep my daughter as far away from it as possible," a pause. "For your own sake."

"Is that a threat?" Anderson muttered in return, finally breaking his own silence.

"No, Agent Anderson," the asari councilor replied. "It's a promise."

This right here was exactly why he didn't like politicians.


A Few Minutes Later, 2155 CE, Citadel, Office of Councilor Valern

"Thanks for the assist," he said as he stepped into the room, briefly wondering what exactly had caused his salarian ally to barricade the balcony of his office with what appeared to be a heavy-duty armor panel taken straight from C-SEC's armory. He had known that STG trained its agents to always expect an attack but this seemed excessive, especially because councilor offices were supposed to be completely impenetrable for anyone not supposed to be inside of them in the first place. Under different circumstances, Saren might've asked for his reasoning and worried about Valern's mental state but right now, he had other priorities. By asking the salarian to come to their aid, he had most likely alerted Desolas to his less-than-official excursion, something he had been trying to avoid. While he had all intentions of sharing his findings with the rest of his group, he'd rather have done it on his own accord and under his own terms.

"Intervention was risky," the STG agent turned councilor replied. "Benezia will keep a close eye on us from here on out," Valern took a brief pause before looking at Anderson. "Contacted him to assist you?"

"Yes."

"Reliable?"

"Absolutely. I trust him with my life."

"Good," the salarian nodded. "Will need reliable allies if your suspicion is correct."

"It is," he was certain of it.

"Always assumed that there'd be more Leviathans," the salarian said as he sat down at his desk. "Hoped I'd be wrong," he admitted next. "Report mentioned geth?"

"Yes and by the looks of it they joined forces with the Harbinger," the turian replied.

"Complicates matters," Valern said as he placed his hand in front of his mouth, staring at his desk, likely lost in his own thoughts. "Before chances of victory were slim but existent, geth shift odds. Posses unknown number of ships and unrivaled production capabilities. Don't require rest, don't demand wages. Work until they run out of raw materials or break down," the salarian figured as he brought up his omni-tool while highlighting just one of the advantages their synthetic nature gave them. Although turian strategists had always assumed that a war with the geth could result in a Council victory, things like biotics and the self-imposed isolation of the synthetics giving a unified galaxy much needed strategic advantages they could use to counteract the geth's numerical superiority, Saren doubted that they could take on both the geth and whatever other nightmares the Harbinger's strategy included.

"We both know that it doesn't just complicate matters, Valern," Saren sighed in return as he dropped into one of the chairs and faced the salarian. "We're not going to win, not with the geth in the picture and not with more Leviathans out there," while he hadn't seen the vessel in action, it's size and the fact that the geth willingly followed it were more than enough to realise that it likely eclipsed every other warship the galaxy could muster.

"Agree that our odds are slim," Valern replied as he kept fumbling with his omni-tool. "Disagree that we are not going to win."

"Valern, please tell me you aren't being as stubborn as Desolas. We-"

"Not the one you have to convince," the councilor interrupted Saren before the turian realised that the projector behind him had turned on.

"Valern this is really a bad time," a familiar voice flanged through the room, sounding somewhat annoyed at first before clearly being surprised by who he was facing. "Saren?"

"Agent Anderson, Doctor T'Soni, suggest we step outside now," the salarian paused for a moment, giving Saren time to realise what he was trying to do. Getting up from the chair, which creaked as it was relieved of the combined weight of the turian and his armor, Saren turned around and faced the holographic projection of his brother, the dress uniform he was wearing indicating that he had been on the way to some sort of meeting.

"Desolas," the turian greeted, bracing himself for what would likely be one of the harshest talks he'd ever have with his brother.

"Saren," Desolas repeated, this time sounding less surprised. "You and Harper went behind my back," for a reason he was well aware of, that short statement stung worse than being shot. While they were siblings, the age gap between them and the almost complete absence of their father from their lives had meant that Desolas, the oldest child of their family, had always been more than just a brother to him. Whether it was the fact that he had been the one to drop him off to basic training or the fact that he was the one he could be completely sincere with, knowing that he had betrayed the trust of the one person he had always looked up hurt.

Badly.

"And for that I'm sorry," Saren said as he shook his head. "But I didn't have a choice. Your plan is not going to work."

"Harper said the same thing but the truth is that we always have a choice, Saren," his brother replied. "What were you thinking? We agreed that going after the artifacts is too dangerous."

"You know exactly what I was thinking. We need something to even the odds. You've seen the report, you know what's out there," the younger turian countered defiantly. "We are not going to win against that."

"So we don't even try to fight then?" Desolas eyes narrowed. "What do you propose we do, Saren? Wait for the Harbinger to butcher us?"

"No of course not!" he nearly shouted before catching himself. "But we can't fight him, at least not conventionally. Your plan?" he muttered, "it's not going to work."

"It's the only one we have," the older Arterius insisted. "Tell me, what else are we supposed to do? Sit by and watch while you stumble through empty ruins in the hopes of finding something? That's what we've been doing for years and by now its painfully obvious that it's not going to help us win either. Preparing ourselves to fight is the only thing we can do now."

"Desolas, your plan is suicide. You are not going to win this war," Saren answered in an angry tone. He was starting to sound like a broken record and he didn't like that one bit. Being stubborn really ran in the Arterius family, didn't it?

"Unless you've got an alternative, it's the only plan we have," his brother replied coldly and for a moment Saren couldn't argue with that. Besides further cementing just how terrible their situation actually was, his personal investigations hadn't produced anything. He hadn't found a critical weakness, learned anything about the true nature of the Harbinger or stumbled upon some kind of answer to the fact that the entire galaxy was at the stake of facing the same power that had wiped out the protheans, a civilization far more advanced than any of the ones currently inhabiting the known parts of space. His face grimaced as he reminded himself of that one fact he had been ignoring all this time. The protheans were the creators of the mass relays and the Citadel. Their technology was the basis for conventional space travel and as far as the scientific community could tell, they had dominated the galaxy as the sole spacefaring species of their time.

Yet they had evidently lost against the Harbinger.

So what chance did they even hope to stand?

"Saren, you can't let fear get the better of your judgment and you can't lose faith in our ability to win. The first step to victory is confidence," Desolas offered, sounding much more like a textbook on war than a reassuring older brother. All the lessons about strategy and tactics they had learned growing up wouldn't help them. They had been written with a conventional foe in mind back when no one ever would've dared to question the accepted version of galactic history because the evidence backing it up had been overwhelming. No matter how successful they had proven, they couldn't be applied to something that existed outside of the picture they had painted for themselves.

"Desolas-"

"I won't allow you to end up like Haliat because you tried to find a way to win my war," Saren knew exactly why Desolas sounded as desperate as he did right now. The death of the Blackwatch captain that had started this entire ordeal still weighed on his brother. While the Spectre wasn't certain why it seemed to burden him so much, a commander who had likely lost hundreds of soldiers over the course of his career, it evidently did.

"I'm not going to end up like him. I know exactly what I'm dealing with," the danger of this entire 'indoctrination' process was really not all that hard to understand.

"No you don't. You think you know what you're dealing with but you don't. None of us know what we're dealing with," Desolas paused for a moment as his mandibles clicked in confusion, an expression one rarely saw on the face of any turian general. "I know this won't be easy for you but from here on out you have to promise me to stay away from this."

He knew where Desolas was going and there was simply no way he'd agree to this.

"After Tunea-Prime, you asked me for my help so that's what I did, I helped you. I did everything you asked me to do, followed every order you gave, went wherever you asked me to go, backed your every decision and now this is how it's supposed to end? With you telling me to just sit by and watch?" the anger he had felt earlier finally managed to break through the barrier Saren had put up to keep it out, manifesting itself in a snarl all the while he walked over to the projector itself. "Spirits, Desolas. You know me better than this."

"Saren, please listen to me," his brother began as the turian Spectre placed his hand over the power button of the device. Desolas really didn't recognize the flaws in his plan, either because he refused to or because he genuinely was incapable of seeing them. Harper had been right, his judgment was clouded. But in spite of that a part of what he had said, namely that they didn't have another plan, had been painfully accurate. He'd have to work on that. Whether it was finding a way to make Desolas' plan work or by finding a way to survive what's to come, he'd do it.

He simply had to.

"I'm sorry but I can't give you that promise," he said before pushing his finger down, causing the holographic image to collapse on itself. As the last pixels disappeared into thin air, Saren walked out of the office without another word, answering neither the questions of Valern or the doctor, who had been waiting outside, nor the omni-tool call from his brother that followed not a minute later. Instead Saren walked away from all of it, only registering the echo of Anderson's footsteps following him towards the Spectre Office.


24. August 2414, Cronos Station

As he idly read over the HSAIS report on the most recent IFS activities within the outskirts of human territories, which among others seemed to include a recruitment campaign on a scale they hadn't seen since shorty before Kamarov's attack on Arcturus and rumors about yet another officer that had served during the Skyllian Blitz joining the ranks of the separatists, his mind began to drift to the actual problem at hand. His joint effort with Agent Arterius certainly hadn't gone like he had planned it to. While facing off in a verbal sparring match against an angry turian general wasn't the hardest thing he ever had to do, Jack Harper couldn't deny that it hadn't been his intention to ever let things get to this point. He understood just what had set General Arterius off and he understood why Tao had backed the turian's stance, his former partner had always been the more cautious one of them and he couldn't fault him one bit for wanting to stay as far away from something that could compromise them as possible.

But just because he understood their reasons, didn't mean that they were right. Harper put down the tablet he had been reading on up to now and turned in his chair, taking in the somewhat blurred hologram originating from the black floor tiles his entire office was built on, tracing the visible details with his eyes in a vain attempt to spot something he had missed in the last two dozen times he had looked at the thing in the last two hours but again coming up empty. Realising the pointlessness of his current endeavor, the director of Cerberus sighed and placed a cigarette in his mouth, the familiar habit calming him ever so slightly. While any outside observer would be hard pressed to tell that something was going on, the most recent developments had deepy shook Harper by further confirming his personal doubts.

Previously his assessment of their odds had been that they wouldn't be victorious unless they found some sort of flaw in the Harbinger's plan that they could exploit or managed to come up with a strategy that could make up for the fact that their opponent not only held most of the cards but could also counter whatever other tricks he might have up his sleeve. This assessment had been rendered invalid the moment he had finished reading Agent Arterius' report. Whatever advantage he had hoped to find would likely be rendered insignificant now that the possibility of the geth striking an alliance with their foe had been revealed. Even if they by some miracle found a fatal flaw in the Harbinger's plot, the numbers of the geth likely wouldn't allow them to exploit it.

While that alone would already be enough to trouble anyone, the prospect of facing off against geth wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind right now. There was something else, something far more troubling, something that did more than just worry Harper.

Ever since they had started to work together, their group of allies had worked under the assumption that the Harbinger's attack would be imminent, an assumption that had never been proven to be correct. At least until now. While General Arterius had been furious at him during their most recent conversation, they had agreed on one thing during the hour they had spent arguing. The appearance of another Leviathan and its apparent alliance with the geth marked the final step in whatever plan the Harbinger had drawn up for the galaxy. Before last week their enemy had either worked through proxy agents that had fallen to his 'indoctrination' or relied on artifacts like Object Omnicron or Object Theta to subtly influence things to his desire, never actually committing any of his assets to the battlefield. Subtlety and intrigue had been his weapon of choice. Not anymore. The fact that the Harbinger was now willing to put a part of his forces, even if it was just one ship, out there for them to see meant that he no longer needed to be subtle about things and that his strategy had reached the point where his next step would mark the beginning of his actual assault on the galaxy, likely aiming to repeat the fate of the protheans.

They were running out of time, now more than ever before.

Placing the cigarette into the small ashtray to his left, Harper pressed the palm of his hand over his face. What else was there that he could do? Cerberus had searched far and wide and the only thing his operatives seemed to find were empty ruins, or as in the case of Akuze, their own doom. Nothing the protheans had left behind had given them answers and their only significant discoveries had turned out to be far too dangerous to study.

No, that wasn't entirely accurate.

The search of Agent Arterius had turned up something beside the first depiction of a fully functional Leviathan ship. With the help of Doctor T'Soni, who they had decided not to contact until further notice due to the particular interest her mother, the asari councilor, had taken into her relation to them, Arterius had recovered a small fragment of data from a geth hard drive, a fragment that told them what the geth were searching for.

The Conduit.

What was that supposed to be?

He knew the meaning of the word, a conduit was something through which something else could pass through to reach its destination, but that could be just about anything and it gave little to no indication as to why the geth had taken interest into it. Harper frowned as he reached for his cigarette, its tip glowing noticeably brighter as he inhaled a breath of smoke. Had he seriously became desperate enough to believe that he could get into the mind of a networked AI collective? He was good, but not that good. No one was that good.

But then again, maybe no one had to be that good.

Another thought crossed his mind, their fading chances of coming up with another solution overwriting the arguments that had previously spoken against it. His time in Section 13 had taught Jack Harper a lot of things, most of which had shown him sides of his own character and humanity he could've very well lived without ever seeing. He had learned a number of questionable skills and employed all of them more times than he could count for what his superiors had always called the 'greater good', paying no mind to any personal values of his own whenever he was called to action. Setting aside the moral issues of his career, something he had come to terms with long ago, one of the lessons he had learned early on came back to him, handing him a possible solution to the problem at hand.

Never ignore an option, no matter how impossible it seems.

Reaching for the tablet at his side and bringing up the set of waypoints Agent Arterius had retrieved from the Migrant Fleet, he didn't spare more than a single second to consider the risk that was attached to them or the consequences it would create when Tao inevitably heard about him once more defying what their allies had agreed on. They were running out of time and the last thing they could afford to do was to ignore a lead. As he pressed a button on the terminal, the alien ship in front of him vanished, being replaced by a much smaller but in his own opinion not a single bit less impressive feat of engineering. After tracing the outlines of this craft, this time not to find a weakness but simply to admire what the combined ingenuity of human and turian scientists could produce, he opened a channel to the head of Cerberus' military operations.

"Holderman, I need you to relay a message to Arcturus Command," right about now he was glad that Tao had decided to let Goyle in on their secret. If he attached the right kind of file to this, she'd simply wave his request through whatever argument the Admiral of the Navy would bring against it. "Tell them that I'd like to borrow the Ain Jalut for an extended period of time."

"Yes, Sir."

It was about time to see just how useful these stealth vessels really could be. Between the bleeding edge surveillance equipment and its ability to avoid most forms of detection, the frigate stood the best chances at surviving the mission he was about to sent it on. If there was something at these coordinates, the Ain Jalut would find it and return to report on it.

That was if it didn't get blown up by the geth the moment it inevitably ran into them.

Grabbing a hold of the glass standing next to his ashtray, a choice of positioning that had resulted in the sullying of fantastic bourbon on far too many occasions, Harper took a sip of the beverage before once more beginning to shut down the voice in the back of his mind that asked him just how many more lives he'd be willing to put at risk for 'the sake of mankind'. Eventually, just like every other time he had faced this question, the faint promise that one day he'd no longer have to send others into the fray finally managed to silence it.

He dreaded the day when it wouldn't.


Two Months Later, 2155 CE, Citadel, Spectre Office

Managing the financial assets he had attained ever since the Spectre that had inducted him,Solik Raeka, had talked him into investing all kinds of businesses to fund his own operations, was one of the few things Saren hated about his job. But even though owning parts of companies like Binary Helix had made him far wealthier than a turian of his age and citizenship tier should be caused all kinds of bureaucratic work, he had become increasingly more grateful to have money he could fall back on now that he could no longer rely on the combined assets of the Hierarchy, STG and the HSA's to help him stop the Harbinger. Whether it was arranging swift transport to somewhere or paying the contractors he had hired to help with the increasing workload the Council was throwing at him, something he was certain Benezia was responsible for, credits were something that almost always proved useful.

As he was about to pay yet another private investigator to look for something that without the context of this particular operation would make little to no sense, after all what could anyone possibly hope to gain from knowing an elcor's favorite tailor, the vibration of his personal omni-tool caused him to pause. There was only a selected number of people who had access to his contact details and out of all of these people, even less would be able to contact him through a turian military channel. Saren hesitated. His last talk with the only person who'd have any business using a frequency like this one, his brother, hadn't ended well and ever since they had split ways over his personal hunt for something that could give them an edge against the Harbinger, the two hadn't spoken to each other. To say that they hadn't parted on good terms would be accurate.

Saren sighed.

If Desolas was reaching out for him, he should take the chance. As he waved his hand through the air, he steadied himself for whatever it was his brother wanted to say.

"Agent Arterius," a voice most definitely not belonging to his brother yet somehow very clearly using a turian military frequency spoke. "It has been a while." Even if the distortion, which he had recognized instantly, hadn't been a dead give away, there were only so many people who could claim to find a way into the Hierarchy's communication network and only one of them could claim that it 'had been a while'.

The Shadow Broker.

What did he want?

Quickly copying the identification of this channel so he'd be able to report it later on, Saren decided that there was only one way to find that out.

"I had hoped I'd never hear from you again," the turian said while getting up and making sure that no one would walk in on him talking to the Broker in the very heart of the Citadel's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch.

"Why? As I recall the last time our paths crossed ended with you gaining something you desired," even through whatever software it was that the Broker used to create his signature anonymity, Saren could hear the arrogance that accompanied that statement.

"The last time our paths crossed, I barely escaped a geth armada," Saren replied, intentionally leaving out the fact that Anderson and Doctor T'Soni had been with him. "And contrary to what you promised, I didn't find Nazara," for some reason that caused the Broker to laugh darkly. "What's so funny?"

"Your believe of not finding Nazara is rooted in your inability to understand its nature," Spirits, he had always thought that his former human allies had enjoyed being cryptic."My information is always accurate. It is not my responsibility to account for your ignorance."

"Well in that case, why don't you enlighten me?"

"I did not go through the trouble of contacting you to offer answers to questions long since irrelevant," that really was a matter of perspective. "Tell me of your progress into our shared interest," Saren frowned. Of course the Broker wanted information.

"Now why would I do that?" the Spectre asked after deciding that he'd make the most out of this very undesired conversation. Truthfully his personal attempt to find a way to stop the Harbinger hadn't produced anything of significance yet. While he had managed to reestablish a link to Doctor T'Soni, the amount of contact he could have with her at the time was limited by how far he was willing to push his luck with Councilor Benezia. He knew that the asari was keeping a close eye on his every move, especially those directed at her daughter. And while Anderson was still committed to helping him and had began his own search, his duties as a Spectre and the lack of Valern's ability to cover for them had seen him sent to the far-end of hanar space, making it all the harder for them to link up.

"Because as before, I am still interested in seeing you succeed," the disembodied voice replied.

"And just like before, I am still not interested in making deals with you," Saren countered.

"Yet we both stand to gain from cooperating."

"How so?" He already had a suspicion. If their last encounter had made one thing clear, it had been that the Shadow Broker was at least somewhat aware of what he himself had been chasing for years.

"I already told you," the Broker began sounding almost annoyed."What you pursue is as much of a threat to me as it is to you. Neither of us-"

"Alright. I get the point," Saren sighed."Tell me what you want or I'm ending this call right here." He wasn't going to play that game, not with someone he despised as much as the Shadow Broker. For obvious reasons, that statement produced something that sounded strangely like an angry grunt. Could the Shadow Broker be a krogan?

No, krogan didn't make this kind of sound.

At least not in his experience.

"Following our last arrangement," there hadn't been any sort of arrangement between them as far as Saren was concerned,"I relocated more resources to the agents pursuing our shared interest and after a number of," the Broker paused for a second, "acceptable casualties," he didn't even sound remotely empathetic, "one of my agents managed to intercept a signal journeying across a series of systems in the Attican Traverse, systems I think you might be familiar with," at that moment a series of coordinates were received by his omni-tool, a small message informing him that the data was already present on its data storage and asking for his permission to overwrite the less recent ones.

The waypoints.

Of course the Shadow Broker would have little to no issue with sending some of his agents into certain death if it could offer valuable information. Between the possibilities he could offer to some and the leverage he held over others, the information dealer was never short on new replacement.

"In addition to intercepting the signal, my operative also managed to determine its point of origin before meeting his regrettable demise," the Broker went on. "I presume you are also familiar with the Inversio System?"

That name rang a bell.

The Inversio System was one of several sites the Hierarchy had considered as a potential staging point for an attack on the heart of batarian space, at least until it had become evident that its mass relay, a smaller secondary relay, only connected to two other locations due to damage it had sustained at the hands of a high-velocity impact some two hundred thousand years ago, which had permanently crippled its ability to connect to other parts of the relay network. If he wasn't mistaken, his ancestors had spent the better part of two decades trying to find a way to fix the ancient structure before opting to cut their losses and pick a different system for the sake of simplicity.

"I am," he replied sternly. " I assume that you're telling me all of this because you want me to take a look?" he didn't like how this sounded strangely like an arrangement.

"Yes."

"What's in it for you?" the turian Spectre asked in a cold tone. "And don't give me the same excuse you used last time. I know that you're not acting out of the goodness of your heart," potential galactic cataclysm or not, he didn't believe for one second that the Shadow Broker was acting solely because he wanted to prevent the Harbinger's success. When the Broker got involved, it was because he could gain something from it. It was just the kind of person he was, always looking for personal profit no matter the situation.

"I merely request one thing from you in exchange for this information," here it was. "I want access to whatever knowledge you discover in the Inversio System."

"Considering that you already told me what I want to know," Saren countered. "Why would I do that?"

"Because being my ally is far more useful than being my enemy. People who cross me or don't honor the deals they made with me," the Broker spoke as a low growl slipped through the voice distortion, "come to regret it swiftly."

"You seem to be under the impression that I am scared of you."

"And you seem to be under the impression that you can still afford to choose your allies based on moral principles."

With that, the call ended, leaving Saren in the very same situation he had been in the last time the Shadow Broker had given him a much needed lead. His first instinct was to call Anderson but not only was the former N7 still stuck on what he, being a turian, considered to be an incredibly inhospitable place, his people weren't exactly known for being excellent swimmers or swimmers at all for that matter, he also didn't have a warship at the ready. For this reason, he punched in the frequency of the one other person he considered to be both capable of helping him and willing to do so.


28. October 2414, Cronos Station

"And you double checked this?" Harper muttered as he looked at the tablet, its artificial bluish shine clashing with the dampened white of Anadius' sunlight.

"I had the task force triple check it," the woman replied from behind him, the distinctive accent in her voice betraying that she, just like himself, hailed from Earth. "And after that I tracked down its source and triple checked it myself. The intel is accurate. After being dishonorably discharged, Okuda got mixed up with the Broker, who worked with him right until he figured out what it was that he had been doing before entering the information business."

"I assume you pulled his file?" he asked.

"Of course I did."

"What does HSAIS say about him?" Harper asked, "Besides the obvious," he added as he recalled how the former intelligence officer had barely avoided being trialed and incarcerated for espionage and treason.

"Not much really. They jus-"

"Hold that thought, Ms. Lawson," Harper interrupted as a buzzing informed him of an incoming call. As he recognized who the caller was, he turned around in his chair to look at the raven haired woman. "I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule. Can I trust you to help coordinate with HSAIS?"

The nod he received merely confirmed what he already knew. This matter was in competent hands.

"I have to say, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again," Harper began as he got up from his chair and walked over to the life-sized projection of the turian Spectre, not quite seeing eye to eye with him. "Especially not after I caused such a rift between you and your brother," he recalled the unfortunate consequence of the last time he and the younger Arterius had spoken.

"As I recall it was Desolas' decision to cut me off, not yours," the turian replied as he folded his hands behind his back. "I need one of your ships," he added, coming right down to business. This was one of the things he had always liked about the Spectre. He didn't talk around things, he acted.

"What for?"

"I have another lead and a warship could come in useful while I investigate it."

"It's from the Shadow Broker, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What did he find?"

"The source of a sign-"

"A signal traveling across the waypoints?" Harper asked as he immediately recalled what he had read about moments before one of his senior operatives had come bursting through the door with a new discovery of Task Force Lightbringer, the group of HSAIS and Cerberus operatives tasked with tracking down the Shadow Broker and permanently eliminating him as a danger to the HSA.

"Exactly. Can I take it that you found it as well?"

"One of our ships managed to pick it up but we weren't able to locate its point of origin."

"Well, the Broker did just that."

"Are you still on the Citadel?" Harper asked quickly.

"Yes," the turian replied without a pause.

"When can you depart?" there wasn't much else they needed to discuss. The two of them had already come to the unspoken agreement that Harper would help him the moment it became evident that the both had something the other needed. This was how things were done in their line of work.

"As soon as you can pick me up," the turian replied. "I have to say, I figured you'd need more convincing to not just send your own people."

"The past has shown that you've had remarkable success when put into unknown situations. I don't know why but you are extraordinarily talented at producing impressive results from little to no intel," the human reasoned with a shrug, "and it's precisely that talent that is required for a mission like this to be successful."

"Fair enough."


Four Days Later, 2155 CE, HSASV Budapest, En Route to the Inversio System

"Sir, the probe passed through the relay without incident. No geth forces detected nearby."

"Understood," the captain of the ship he had already worked with on several occasion spoke. "Alright. Helmsman, take us through," he ordered after taking a seat in his chair.

"All systems green, beginning approach run," the helmsman of the cruiser murmured as the human ship began to gain on the giant construct in front of it. He really didn't like the idea of doing this without Anderson but waiting for him to reach the Citadel just hadn't been an option. Due to the dispersion of relays within in hanar space, it would've taken him the better part of two weeks to rendezvous with him, if he could've found a reason to depart from his assignment in the first place.

"Hitting the relay in three, two, one," the moment the human had finished his count a flash of blue erupted at the tip of the cruiser before it was flung across space, crossing an impossibly large distance in an instant. "Thrusters and navigation are green, scan protocols running. All systems in the clear," the helmsman summarized. "Drift just below seven thousand.

"Good work," the captain of the ship nodded. "Anything on the scanners yet?"

"Planets, asteroids, some bigger pieces of debris and a large construct on the far-side of the bigger gas giant," another crew member replied.

"Is it the source of the signal?" the captain asked as he was about to turn to the junior officer that had spoken up.

"Unlikely," Saren injected as he remembered the file he had pulled on the system. "Check again. Your construct should be an old refueling station of my people," he elaborated. "The deconstruction of its frame was deemed unfeasible by the navy when they pulled out of the system," he explained as the captain turned to him instead with a raised eyebrow.

He got the surprise. Cases like this one directly contradicted the image people usually had of his people. While turians were generally associated with effectiveness and austerity, anyone who took a closer look at certain portions of the galaxy would realise that its massive budget had made the Hierarchy's military surprisingly lenient in regards to how many facilities they had left unattended once they had outlived their usefulness. Whether it were old combat outposts constructed during the turian march on Tuchanka, listening bases aimed at the Perseus Veil in the wake of the Geth War or supply stations like the one in the Inversio System that would've supported an assault on batarian space, one didn't have to look all too far to find the empty shells of turian bases stripped of everything but their facade and most basic systems.

Suddenly a dark realisation crossed his mind. If they didn't manage to stop the Harbinger, perhaps his people would one day fulfill the role the protheans had filled for the current denizens of the galaxy for whoever may come after them. Even though they were the subject of a lot of jokes at the hands of combat personal, the Engineer Corps did built to last.

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can-" the human interrupted himself. "Wait, there is something else on the medium range sensors. I'm picking up a faint signal from the smaller gas giant," he paused. "It shares several similarities with the original one."

"The geth think they can hide from us behind some clouds?" the captain muttered. "Let's prove them wrong. Helmsman, plot a course to that location. It's time we figure out what sent that signal. All hands, prepare action stations"

"Yes, Sir," the man in charge of piloting the vessel replied before it began to accelerate away from the relay.

"Lieutenant, talk to me, what are we looking at?"

"The source of the signal seems to be an immobile structure floating in the upper layer of the gas giant's atmosphere. It appears intact but I can't get an exact read on its size or composition, there's just too much backscatter," the woman the officer had addressed replied.

"Well, give me a rough estimation."

"It could be anywhere from a couple hundred meters to several kilometers."

"Was this here when your people built that station of yours?" the officer asked Saren.

"If it was they weren't aware of it," this was definitely something the geth had put here. There was no way the Hierarchy would fail to mention that a space station of unknown origin resided in the same system they intended to use as a staging point for an invasion of batarian space.

"Understood. Lieutenant, can we reach it without getting crushed?"

"The pressure itself shouldn't be an issue for the shuttles but that atmospheric storm could give us a load of trouble," the younger officer explained. "But even then there's no way to know if it's accessible."

"The only way we'll find that out is if we take a closer look," Saren spoke.

"Do you want me to ready a strike team?" The ranking Cerberus officer asked next to him, once more going along with his arguably risky plan without question.

"Yes," if he couldn't have Anderson, he'd take whatever other backup they could offer. Even though it had been some time since he had worked with a team, Spectres by their nature rarely worked with more than one other operative, he'd be glad for every help he could get. After all, chances were that they'd stumble into a small army of geth. "Tell them to meet me in the hangar."


Eight Minutes Later, Orbit of Inversio Five

"Don't bother, you won't see shit. Clouds are far to dense," one of the human operatives said as his comrade was about to lean closer to the viewing screen, turning away just as a red surge of electricity, likely a product of the encroaching storm, shot past it, allowing the occupants to catch a brief glance at the shuttle flying beside them.

"You were saying?"

"Cut the chatter," Lieutenant Slattery, the team leader who had already been tasked with assisting him during his last stay on the Budapest, ordered with a sharp tone before returning his attention to the weapon in his hand, inspecting it for a final time.

In a way deploying with a group of operatives like this one triggered a sense of nostalgia in Saren. While they were more talkative than their turian counterparts and wore white instead of black, their behaviour just before leaving the shuttle was pleasantly familiar. Last minute checks, some relaxed banter to ease the edge, it all reminded him of the time when he had still been a 'regular', if one could be bothered to call either the Cabal Corps or Blackwatch regulars, soldier in the turian military.

"Thirty seconds. I might be wrong since I'm basically flying blind right now, but on the scanners it looks like there's some kind of opening up ahead. I'll see if I can land there," the shuttle pilot called as Saren balanced his trusty Phaeston rifle in his hands, making sure that the disruptive ammo mod he had procured in the event of ever facing off against the geth, the likely creators of this station, was working as intended. Due to their synthetic nature, a weapon modified with this particular ammunition would do far more than just disable their kinetic barriers more quickly.

"Budapest, this is Strike-Lead. We're about to try and board the structure. How copy? Over," the Cerberus lieutenant asked, his voice ringing through Saren's helmet thanks to being tapped into their communications netowrk.

"Go-py. Strike-Lead," a reply came back to them.

"Great. Storm's messing with our comms," the man sighed, apparently familiar with the problem. "Budapest, we've got reception issues. Adjust your signal strength. Over."

"Copy that, Strike-Lead. We'll stand by for an update once you enter the structure. Budapest over and out."

"You'd think they'd eventually get us some decent comm equipment," another Cerberus operative, clad in the same heavy, white set of armor as the rest of the team, muttered through the squad-intercom.

"You know how it is, Amjad, only palas, flyboys and the navy get to play with the new toys," the lieutenant offered.

"Aren't we part of the navy?" the man replied. Saren had been wondering about that himself. In spite of closely working with the black-ops unit on several occasions, he didn't really know all that much about Cerberus' actual assignment. They obviously maintained naval assets but at the same time a lot of their missions seemed to be more in line with what TNI's field teams did, which in itself was strange given that he knew of the existence of the covert operatives of the HSA's actual intelligence service, HSAIS.

"We're not part of anything. Black-ops don't appear on the budget. We make due with what we have. No matter the obstacle, no matter the opposition."

"Roger that."

"Lieutenant, I got good news and I got bad news," the pilot suddenly said.

"Good first, obviously."

"The good news is that you can get out without being blown away by the storm. Landing site is mostly closed off."

"And the bad?"

"Well, we are kind of flying into the damn thing and unless the geth forgot to close this part up whenever they built it, somebody opened the door for us." Saren didn't like the sound of that.

"Great, so we're flying into an ambush," one of the operatives remarked.

"That's assuming it's a geth structure," Lieutenant Slattery offered. "The last one wasn't, was it?" he asked as he nodded towards Saren.

"No, it wasn't," the Spectre replied, keeping the fact that it simply had to be a geth structure because it hadn't been around the last time turian forces had been in the system to himself for now, not only because there was no point in unnerving his allies but also because there was still a chance that someone who wasn't a geth had built it in the time between the turian withdrawal and his own arrival.

"Five seconds," the pilot spoke just as the thick clouds that had obstructed their view earlier vanished in favour of a darkened, empty hangar. "Haven't been shot down yet," he added, pointing out the obvious. "Alright. Green-light, go," the pilot spoke as the shuttle touched down in accordance to their plan. Given the storm it had been decided that unlike usually, their rides would stick around and wait for them to come back.

"Place looks desolate," one human noted.

"Damn right it does."

"Well at least we're not going to suffocate anytime soon. Picking up a breathable atmosphere," a third spoke as Saren's own HUD informed him of the same thing.

"Why would the geth need an atmosphere? They don't have lungs."

"Beats me, maybe for organic prisoners?"

"Since when do geth take prisoners?"

"Alright, enough guess work. Jefferson, Capo, stay with the shuttles. The rest of you, fan out two by two and find us a way out of here," the lieutenant ordered as Saren looked around him, the green filter of his night vision equipment allowing him to inspect the tall, empty hall they had landed in. "Amjad, you're with the Spectre."

"Copy that," the operative said before falling in line next to the turian, following his every step.

"Budapest, this is Strike-Lead, we're in. Beginning our search now. Over."

"Understood. Happy hunting down there, Strike-Lead. Budapest out."

At least they still had comms.

"Shouldn't we be hearing the storm?" one of soldiers muttered as Saren eyed one of the support beams and noticed its strange shape, wondering just what the reason behind its apparent flexibility was.

"Probably some kind of audio dampeners," another offered.

"Why would the geth install audio dampeners? They don't have ears either," the first one pointed out just as a loud metallic noise echoed through the hall, drawing Saren's attention to the way they had come just in time to see their entrance close itself. With the hatch closed off, they were officially stuck.

"Budapest, this is Strike-lead again, our exit just closed, over," he heard over his helmet radio. "Budapest, come in," Lieutenant Slattery repeated after not getting a reply. "Great."

And of course now their comms were gone.

"Guess we're not getting out of here anytime soon," Amjad muttered before he and Saren kept walking forward, the latter distinctively aware of his instincts telling him that something was off. He couldn't pinpoint what it was but something about this place made him slightly paranoid. He shook his head in an attempt to shake the feeling and figure out what was putting him off. It definitely wasn't the dark or the prospect of an ambush, that much was for certain. While there was little room for colour, everything being displayed in varying shades of green, his night vision equipment allowed him to see perfectly fine and assure him that besides the two shuttles, the only other thing within the hangar were the strange support beams, which in retrospective were definitely responsible for closing their entrance, and seemingly random tubular structures attached to the walls next to them.

This certainly wasn't what he had imagined the interior of a geth ship to look like. Granted, just like almost everybody else in the galaxy, he had never actually been inside of one, most encounters with the geth in the last two and a half centuries had ended as quickly as either side could kill or escape the other, but he still had figured it'd be less spacious.

"LT, I think I've got a door," a human spoke up.

"You think?"

"Well for all I know it's an airlock waiting to suck us outside."

"Copy that. Wait one, I'll be right with you," Slattery spoke as Saren began to make his way towards the soldier as well, his brief look around the hangar indicating that there was nothing of interest around here. Throwing a last glance towards the now closed entrance, he began to wonder just how they'd actually get out of here until telling himself to focus on what he could work on right now, finding out what the purpose of this station was and from where exactly it had sent the signal. He figured that if there was a way out of here, they'd find it in the same command center that had been used to sent the signal.

"Can you open it?" he heard as he and his human escort came to a halt in front of the dark-green wall, only a very close look allowing him to see where the circular door would retract into the wall. The operative who had found this had good eyes, he'd give him that.

"I don't know, I'm not seeing a panel," a human, who's omni-tool was casting a faint orange light onto the now revealed to be reflective material of the door, said while running some kind of diagnostic scan and receiving nothing but a red-flashing error message.

"We could always force it open," Amjad offered. "What? I don't see you having a better idea," he added as the human kneeling in front of the door looked up to him.

"I mean it could work," Lieutenant Slattery shrugged next to him while looking at Saren. "Agent Arterius?"

"Since I don't see a way around it, I think force is our only option," the turian replied with a shrug before a Cerberus operative stepped past him, holding a small cylinder in his hand. However when he was about to place it on the door's surface, resting his other hand close to its center, the circular metal came apart, revealing a long, empty corridor in front of them.

"What the hell?" the human exclaimed after regaining his balance, the sudden disappearance of the wall in front of him almost causing him to stumble forward.

"Guess you found the lock after all, Deeks," the lieutenant reasoned.

"No, Sir, he didn't. I already tried that before and it didn't work," the kneeling human replied, audibly confused.

"Well, he obviously did something right," Amjad injected. "Although I have to say, this doesn't look like much of an improvement," he added while aiming his rifle down the corridor.

"You can say that again, talk about exposed. One good shooter and we're minced."

"Just like Torfan then, aye?" another Cerberus operative chuckled darkly.

"I'll take point. Stay close behind me," Saren finally spoke up before stepping into the corridor, confident that his biotic barriers, reinforced shields and armor would give him more than enough time to take care of any potential ambushers that thought he could get the drop on them in the narrow pathway up ahead. Although he knew that it was a strange thing to say given the situation they were in, it was nice to work with a team again. When he had first become a Spectre, their tendencies to work alone had been one of his biggest issues, his background in Blackwatch, a unit that thrived on team work, making it all the harder for him to adjust. Maybe it was just the turian in him but there was just something calming about knowing that there were other people with him to watch his back at every corner.

"Budapest, if you're reading this, we're heading deeper into the station. Strike-Lead out," Slattery muttered as the Cerberus team fell in behind him, putting their faith and potentially their lives into his hands. "Alright people, stay sharp. I don't like this," he added, this time over the squad intercom.

"Think this place even has power? I mean all the lights are out but even geth need lights, right?"

"Damned if I know. Their heads look like flashlights to me, so there's that."

"So you're saying they don't need lig-" Amjad began only to interrupt himself. "Hold up," he said, causing all of them to stop. "Did you hear that?" he suddenly spoke, immediately sounding professional, while training his rifle on the next circular door. "There it is again," he said just after Saren had focused on any apparent noise only to come up empty.

"You're imagining things, man," another human, who like Saren hadn't picked up anything, spoke. "The dark getting to you?" he added, causing Amjad to smack the side of his helmet a couple of times in an attempt to either clear his mind or fix his audio filters.

"We should keep moving," Saren finally suggest and after receiving a nod from their lieutenant, the group once more began to advance forward right until coming face to face with another circular barrier. Remembering where the demolition specialist had placed his hand before, Saren attempted to mirror the gesture, pressing his palm into the center of the door with the expectation that it would open. Yet much to his surprise, nothing happened.

"Deeks, you're up again," Slattery spoke as he too realised the problem. "Everybody else, clear the blast zone."

"Alright let's see," the human muttered, priming the magnetic charge with a press of his thumb and taking a couple of steps back. "Fire in the-" he began only for the doors to open up, causing the explosive to harmlessly drop to the floor. "Seriously? What the fuck is going on here, LT?" Deeks asked as he picked up the charge and swiftly disarmed it again.

"Somebody's watching us," the human said and Saren found himself agreeing as he stared down another corridor, spotting a bent and several more doors lining the walls on either side up ahead.

"And they're leading us somewhere," the Spectre added as he noted a sense of worry emerging from his stomach. His instincts were practically screaming at him to turn around but as things were, their exit was closed. The only thing they could do right now was figure out who was leading them through this facility and force them to let them out again. Spirits, he really would've appreciated having Anderson with him right about now. This whole situation was shaping up into one of the most obvious ambushes he had ever seen and there was no one he'd rather have beside him.

"Capo, lock down the shuttles. We might not be alone in here. Over," the lieutenant spoke into his radio before Saren once more took point.

"Copy that, Sir," one of the two humans who had stayed behind with the pilots replied a few moments later, an eery silence settling after their transmission had passed, only the sounds of the groups' footsteps echoing through the corridors.

"Try the doors as you pass them," Saren instructed as he passed by the first of the circular constructs, pushing his hand into the center of the frame without producing a result. Even if everything suggested that they were being lead somewhere, he still couldn't entirely rule out two strange coincidences. They were better of like this.

"I think mine just hummed," Amjad observed as they passed around the bend, staring at yet another long corridor ending in the same fashion of the one they just cleared.

"It's not the door, man, it's this entire place that's humming," Deeks reasoned. "Maybe it's the engines?"

"I'm not hearing any humming," their lieutenant offered and again, Saren found himself agreeing. The footsteps and their occasional chatter were the only sounds he could make out. While he didn't know a lot about Cerberus, he knew that all of the operatives had previously served in some kind of special forces unit and from his personal experience with special forces, Saren knew that they weren't the people who allowed their minds to play games on them for no reason other than paranoia. They were trained to be in control of themselves yet evidently, something was putting them off.

It was this place.

He could feel it as well.

"We should pick up our pac-" he began as a door to his right opened, causing him to spin around and aim his Phaeston down the small room it lead into. For a moment, it felt like he saw something, a shadowy figure moving in the surprisingly dark corner at the far end of the room, but before he could go on to investigate, the circular door shot closed again, almost crushing the tip of his rifle in the process, only his fast reflexes allowing him to pull it back in time. "False alert."

"I swear to god, if I get my fingers on the guy who's in control of this place, I will," Amjad muttered angrily as the sound of a door closing in the distance echoed through their corridor, overshadowing their footsteps for a second. The last time one of these doors had closed, it hadn't been nearly this loud. What was going on here? "That was our way back, wasn't it?"

"Don't worry. If it comes down to it, I got more than enough charges to get us out of here." Deeks shrugged as they did the only thing they could, follow the path and try every door they passed. He wasn't entirely sure how long they followed the seemingly random corridors but he was distinctively aware of feeling like he had lost at least a few minutes here and there.

What was going on?

"Capo, we just got locked out. Somebody's messing with us. Watch your backs," Slattery radioed as Saren shifted his rifle around the next bend, his finger instinctively brushing against the Phaeston's trigger when he spotted a shape down the corridor, blending into the wall not a moment after he had centered his crosshair over its now absent form. "Capo, you there?" the lieutenant asked again. "Jefferson, come in. I'm not reaching Capo. Everything alright on your end?"

No response.

"Shit," the officer cursed under his breath. Given their growing suspicion, Saren assumed that both he and Slattery had come to the same conclusion about the reason for their absence. Whoever was watching them, had preyed on the isolated members of their team and cut of their extraction faster than they could report on their assault.

"Contact!" it suddenly echoed behind them. Saren turned around just as a burst of gunfire shot through the corridor, the rounds of the weapon bouncing of the empty wall the human had aimed for and drilling themselves into the floor.

"What the hell are you talking about?" another human called, visibly aggregated. "There's nothing the-" he began before lifting his own rifle, almost repeating the motion. "I think I saw it too. Eleven o'clock."

"Yes. There it is again!" the first replied with a shout before sending down another burst, causing more ricochets, one of which audibly bounced back towards them and flew straight through their formation, only barely missing Amjad."Shit, didn't get it."

"Everybody, calm down," Slattery barked. "There's nothing there," he repeated sternly. "You said the air is clear, right?" he asked one of the soldiers. "No toxins, no hallucinogenics, no gases?"

"Yes, Sir. Everything's clear. If it wasn't our suits would notice."

"Understood. Now keep movi-"

"No, don't," Saren injected as a faint, clicking sound echoed through the corridor. He was aware that he shouldn't cut in on the orders of an officer, even if he wasn't part of that chain of command. It wasn't good for unit cohesion. "Do you hear that?" he asked, confident that he was in fact no imagining this particular sound. Even if he didn't know what was going on, he recognized the sound of metal hitting metal. After all, he had heard it more often than he could count.

"Yes," the lieutenant said after a moment of consideration. "Deeks?"

"Yeah, I hear it too. It's coming from the doors, isn't it?" the demolitions expert inquired.

"Amjad?"

"Yes, Sir. Definitely the doors," the operative confirmed. "I think it's that one," he added as he briefly activated the targeting laser attached to the side of his rifle.

"Anyone else?" Slattery muttered as he began to move forward, a few more affirmatives coming through. Either they had all lost it or this time, there actually was something behind that door. "Alright. Deeks, you're up."

"Third time's the charm."

As Saren braced himself to take aim, watching as the human placed the charge on the door and went back to a safe distance, he felt a strange sensation wash over him for a brief moment. It wasn't the usual rush of adrenaline that came alongside any rapid entry, it was something else, something far more primal coming from the very core of his being. In the moments before Deeks pressed the detonator, a sense of dread unlike anything the Spectre had ever felt consumed him as if it had been able to sense what was about to happen next. Watching the charge explode, blowing apart a good chunk of the circular door, it was merely the built-in feature of their helmets that dimmed their night vision in time not to be blended by the sudden brightness of lights turning on all around them. He wasn't sure if they had triggered some kind of security mechanism and as he charged towards the opening, he didn't have time to think about it.

After all, he was far too occupied with putting several rounds into the nimble geth that had leapt at him the moment he had entered the room. As his subconsciousness told him that he was painfully familiar with the material the room and everything around them in general seemed to be made off, the rest of his body went through the practiced motion of aligning his scope with the geth's center of mass, the disruptor rounds doing exactly what they were supposed to do, tearing apart the synthetic and spilling the white cooling fluid across his darkened visor.

"Contact. Behind us!" it echoed through his radio again as he shifted his aim to assist the Cerberus trooper that had gone through the door with him, putting a well placed burst into the head of the second geth currently trying to wrap its elongated fingers around the operatives neck. What were these creatures? They weren't regular geth, that much was for sure. They lacked the armor and sturdiness other combat platforms displayed and if the exposed synthetic muscles were anything to go by, they had been designed with flexibility in mind.

"Three more from twelve o'clock," he hear Amjad say between the bursts of gunfire now flooding the corridors. Briefly looking around the room and realising that it had been completely empty beside this new kind of geth, Saren climbed back through the hole to enter the hall just as more of these 'naked' geth jumped from the doors they had already passed, crawling along not just the floor but also the walls and the ceiling at a lighting fast pace and throwing themselves at the operatives closest to them, their synthetic reflexes and strength proving to be more than just a match for the hand-to-hand skills of their opponents. The Spectre wasn't sure who was the first one to go, Amjad or the operative next to him, but even over the sound of the battle the blood curdling sound of a neck being broken threw him into another surge of adrenaline, sharpening his resolve and improving his aim beyond a point he had thought to be possible. As the ambush swiftlyturned into a last stand of their side, he cut down one geth after the other, thanking the creator of the Phaeston for giving the weapon as large of a heatsink as it had right until he had to switch to his pistol.

"Watch it Deek-" one human called behind him only to be cut off.

Why were the geth trying to close in on them like this?

Where were their guns?

Where they trying to capture them.

"I'm gonna run dry eventually," Slattery called as Saren fired his Carnifex pistols at another one of the geth, destroying its weirdly shaped head with a well placed shot from the gun that had been designed to kill something far tougher than itself, krogans. "Budapest, if you're reading this, we're under attack. Over!" the human roared through the radio as the first of Saren's pistols ejected a hot stream of air. This wasn't good, his Phaeston wouldn't cool down for another six Carnifex shots and unless his count was off, his second gun only had three more in it. Lowering it ever so slightly and pushing his hand forward in a forceful manner, a purple wave rushed down the corridor, tossing both geth and deceased Cerberus operatives away from him.

This would buy him some time but he wouldn't be able to keep this up indefinitely.

They had to find a way out of here.

"I still have the charges," Deeks called as he downed one of the geth that had tried to latch onto Saren, stepping away from him for just a few seconds. "We can still ge-" whatever it was that the human wanted to say was interrupted when one of the geth's head lit up orange and fired a beam that simply passed through the soldier's shields and killed him upon impact.

Was this it?

Was this where his story came to an end? Aboard what was very likely yet another artifact of the Harbinger's people?

if that was the case, he was glad that he hadn't dragged Anderson into this.

And if that was the case, he'd show the Harbinger how turians died.

After all, a hunter knew when his time had come.

"Let's make the end memorable, Spectre," he heard Slattery call as he felt the human press his back against his own. First it was the sound of one Phaeston and one human Valkyrie rifle that barked through the corridors to the point of overheating. Next their defiance took the sound of sidearms and a series of tech-programs and finally, when all of their ammunition and tech programs had been spent, they fell back on their blades, a tactic that only worked because of the geth's reluctance to use their distance weapon again. The analytical part of his mind, the one not preoccupied with falling back on years of training and experience, told him that they wanted to capture either himself or the human and as such couldn't risk hitting both of them at once, a realisation that drove him to press his back against the human even harder. As long as they stood together, they'd be safe from the shot that had killed Deeks. As he slashed his blade, the curved military talon issued to every Blackwatch operative, through the synthetic muscle of the first geth that had managed to cross the distance, he began to hear a voice. At first it sounded distant and vague but as he grew more desperate with every geth he cut down, it also grew more powerful. He wasn't sure what it was saying, it almost seemed like it spoke in a language he didn't know, but yet he still knew what it was telling him to do.

It wanted him to give in, to stop fighting his fate, but much to its frustration, he was exactly every bit as stubborn as his brother.

"Come on, fucking do it," he heard Slattery grunt behind him as he felt him being torn away from his back. "I said come on, you artifical bastar-"

While he didn't even feel the strike that caused him fall, Sarn felt something else mere moments before drifting into the familiar embrace of unconsciousness.

Just as he was about to hit the ground and black out, Saren heard a clear voice coming not from speakers but from his very mind.

No.

It wasn't just one voice. It was like standing in front of an entire legion during a parade.

It was the echo of a thousand voices sounding off as one in perfect unison, a singular purpose behind all of their words.

The cycle will not be broken.


A/N: So, as I said, no codex entry this time.. for obvious reasons. I felt like a codex after ending it on such a cliffhanger would deminish the impact.

Let me start out by saying that this 'twist' (putting it in ' ' because it basically is an altered version of what happens in canon) isn't the end of Saren's story or character arc and that this was as much of a gut punch for me to write as it was for you to read (spoiler, next chapter will only be slightly bettter)

Now of course I know a lot of you had hoped that this wouldn't happen but since I had my mind set on it turning out like this from the very beginning and everything else would've felt like I'd betray Semper Vigilo's intended plot, I just had to do it, even if I hated doing it.

The guy grew on me as a protagonist, alright? I'll be the first to say it. I love my version of Saren.

But for that reason I gave him the arc I always intended for him to have.

As I said, it ain't over yet. He's not just going to be the same 'but if I can show them our worth they might let us live' Saren from canon, no he's far better than that.

He will have a very different motivation over the course of Mass Effect 1 or rather Semper Vigilo's Season 3.

Speaking of Seasons.

Be damned glad we're not a TV medium, otherwise you'd have to wait till late autuum to find out what happens next becuase this right here was Season 2's finale. The big chapter I worked towards for the better part of the last 8 months, planting small hints as to what would eventually go down here and there and simultaniously looking forward to and dreading the day I'd eventually release it.

Alright, lets talk a bit chapter trivia.

A lot of this chapter was obviously inspired by the derelict reaper (for those who didn't quite get it, Sovereign let Saren and the Cerberus team board him and from there on out I decided to up the "even a dead god can dream" theme from that ME 2 mission up to eleven because well.. Sovereign isn't dead. He's very much alive.

Enter the nightmare fuel.

Speaking of nightmare fuel, decided to use the geth hoppers, who are in my opinion some of the scariest and most underused foes in all of Mass Effect 1. These guys always gave me the creeps.. they're just so nimble and freekishly quick... I hated them from the first time they downed Ashley.

Also, on a slightly happier note, Miranda made an apperance, even if it was just brief and had the decency to set up one of the sideplots that's eventually going to lead into the Shadow Broker's role in the story, namely my version of Lair of the Shadow Broker.

Also, also, on an even happier note, next chapter will be a lot of setup and payoff to some other things and, spoiler alert, it is likely (unless I change my mind) going to end with one of the most important lines in all of mass effect.

"Well, what about Shepard?"

Alright. Enough of this.

On to something not chapter-related!

Given that this is kind of a milestone, being chapter 45, the finale of Season 2 and the cumulation of Semper Vigilo's pre-mass effect story and its first big 'twist' (again the ' ' for obvious reasons), I'd like to thank all of you who read the story. Your feedback is what motivates me to keep improving my writing and create what I consider to be a very decent story. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate every last one of you.

Special thanks to all the regulars though. You know who you are, we talk.

Sporadically.

When I reply to your reviews.

Yeah.

Alright maybbe we don't talk but we communicate!

For the record we're at 374 reviews, 602 favorites and 708 follows. (Would you look at that, two other milestones. 600 favs, 700 follows..)

See you around next time.