Chapter 56. Moving the Pieces
12. January 2415 AD, HSASV Makalu
It was no secret that sympathies for the IFS had surfaced throughout the HSA's armed forces after the Skyllian Blitz had seen the former enemies fight side to side on several occasions. Furthermore, it was no secret that a lot of younger soldiers, who themselves hadn't been around to experience the Fringe Wars, had come to develop a sense of revisionism in regards to the HSA's former enemies as a result of this short but intense period of unexpected comradery. Hence, Redford had already suspected that this wouldn't be as easy as picking out the one person who may or may not share some of the separatist's ideals and branding them Kahoku's killer.
However what he hadn't expected was to find that the situation on the Makalu, and likely the Fifth Fleet as a whole, was a lot worse than initially suspected. Over the past few days it had become evident, that their admiral's animosity over being refused the chance to even the odds with the batarians during the Blitz had spread throughout a good portion of the Fifth Fleet. While he wouldn't say that the entirety of the fleet was at a risk of being underwandered by separatist agents or worry about entire marine detachments suddenly mutineering against the crews they were supposed to protect, there was a worrying number of servicemen that could potentially be considered the IFS operatives responsible for the murder.
"What's the matter, Specialist?" Colonel Salib, the military police officer who was in charge of the investigation, asked after he let out a long sigh.
Closing the last of the requested service records, it was one of yet another soldier who had been on guard duty on the Kahoku's deck shortly before the man was found dead, he shut down the terminal and ran a hand through his blonde hair.
"Nothing. It's just that that was the last one," he explained. "I think it's about time that I talked to some of these guys now."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean you said it yourself after you looked at the crime scene. The guy was a pro. For all we know, something as simple as interviewing him could make him take extreme steps."
She had a point. Every now and again elite IFS operatives, which this one appeared to be, did go through drastic lengths to keep themselves from being captured, suicide attempts by poisoning or, which he was far more worried about given that he'd be close enough to get blown up himself, explosives being a rather common occurrence with the most dedicated separatist moles.
"I don't plan to slam my fist down and call everyone an Iffy just yet. I had something more subtle in mind," the specialist explained despite his worry. "I'd like to start with the lieutenant who's platoon was guarding the deck when it happened. See if he noticed anything or if some of his guys failed a check in."
"But Lieutenant Taylor was already questioned. I don't think asking him the same questions all over again is going to do us any good," the dark-haired officer stated from her side of the desk.
"It's not about what he might be able to tell me, Colonel," Redford replied as he looked at the woman who's service record, of course without her knowledge, had also been part of the ones he had looked into. In addition to having risen through the ranks of the HSAMC at an unusually quick pace, Colonel Salib's former superiors had been all to eager to point out that the woman had a particular talent for playing people, something that the specialist could recognize as an asset and, given their current situation, was inclined to treat as potential danger as well. "It's about looking at what happens after his guys realise he got pulled in again. It makes him seem more suspicious and in turn-"
"Might make the real Iffy a bit more careless."
"Exactly. The guy's a pro, sure," the Section 13 agent explained,"but trust me. Even the best pro's screw up." He could attest to that from personal experience. A good chunk of Section 13's training regiment consisted of making specialist fail the same kind of assignment over and over again because of some little detail, the logic behind it being that being made a fool of in training a hundred times was well worth doing it properly in the field once. If he was asked to list how often his late supervisor had told him that he had just died, he'd probably still be sitting here by the time it was his turn to knock on the pearly gates.
"I'll sent someone to get us Lieutenant Taylor's position right away," the colonel nodded before rising from her desk and walking towards the door of the small, makeshift office that the specialist had been given for the duration of his stay. "Are you coming?" she asked after realising that Redford himself had remained seated.
"Yes, of course," he offered casually. "You can go ahead already, I'll be with you in a minute. Just going to clean this up," he added while gesturing towards the desk.
"Alright," she replied, doing well to hide the hint of confusion he had stirred in her. "I'll sent you a location when I have it."
"Make sure people see you. If his guys don't notice that we talked to him, we might as well not do it in the first place."
"Not doing this for the first time, Specialist," the colonel offered quickly before turning on her heel, opening the door and vanishing into one of the hundreds of hallways of the dreadnought.
Waiting for several moments to make sure the colonel wouldn't come back to collect something she had forgotten, the specialist rose from his seat and, with a wipe of his omni-tool, interfaced with the officer's own terminal to make a copy of every new file that had been created on it since the last time he had done so yesterday. Colonel Salib was the closest thing he had to a partner right now and his current knowledge seemed to suggest that she was in fact just as innocent as she appeared to be. Nonetheless his instincts demanded that he kept up to date with all of her actions, not just the ones she wanted him to see. Finding nothing immediately remarkable, just like before, the specialist quickly destroyed any evidence of his intrusion, picked up the set of HUD glasses disguised as a regular pair of glasses and followed after the MP, again putting up the facade that they were working on equal footing and ignoring what it said about him that he felt that it was necessary to treat his allies like potential enemies.
Ten Minutes Later, HSASV Makalu, Crew Deck 5
Weaving past the odd two dozen of exhausted looking marines marching out of the room under the orders of Colonel Salib, Redford tried to link as many of the faces as possible to the records he had read, the sheer volume of information he had processed lately making it all the harder to recognize just about any of them. Although he had a hard time to fit names to some of the marines, there was one thing that the specialist was certain of. If there was an IFS mole among these guys, he now knew something was going on. Which of course was his exact intention.
"I don't get it Ma'am, I already gave you my statement," the dark-skinned lieutenant muttered before wiping his sweaty brow and subsequently crossing his arms in front of his chest, covering the nametag and coat-of-arms stitched onto the gym shirt he was wearing. "The MP said that was all you needed," he added before leaning against the treadmill he had been using right until being interrupted by Salib.
"Well I'm the MP's colonel and I say that we need to talk again," the woman shrugged in return. "Do you have a problem with that, Lieutenant Taylor?"
Quickly glancing at the specialist who had chosen to sit down on one of the benches the marines had used for physical exersice just earlier, the broad-shouldered marine shook his head.
"Of course not, Ma'am," he muttered before loosening the grip on his own arms and folding his hands behind his back instead. "I'm happy to help with anything else you need," he added, sounding almost truthful. Not intending to break his own cover in front of Lieutenant Taylor by stepping out of what appeared to be a clear hierarchy, Redford waited for Salib to make her next move. After all, if the small rank insignia on his collar were anything to go by, the specialist was still the colonel's junior by several ranks.
"It's not as much what I need," the ranking officer in the gym offered while pointing at the blonde man," as it is what Captain Bradford here needs," offering a little wave at that from his position on the bench and continuing to be amazed by the sheer lack of creativity that had gone into the creation of his go-to alias, Redford could already tell that Taylor wasn't going to like him by the annoyed expression the lieutenant couldn't quite hide. "He's a forensic specialist from Arcturus who's going to help with the investigation from here on out," that was already a lot of truth for his liking but he didn't let it show, "and as such, he asked me to talk to some people again. Fill in the blanks to help him get a picture of what he's working with."
"But only if it's fine by you, of course," Redford injected quickly to maintain the image grunts like Lieutenant Taylor likely had of people like 'Captain Bradford'. Adjusting the glasses and the small HUD hidden in them to reinforce this non-threatening demeanor, the specialist had all the intentions to unnerve the marine later on. After all, the point of this wasn't to squeeze information out of him. It was to get people to talk.
"As I said, happy to help," Taylor offered again.
"He's all yours, Captain," Colonel Salib added not a second later.
"Great," he nodded. "So, Lieutenant Taylor, why don't we start with the changing of guard? From my understanding, your platoon arrived as scheduled to rotate out the last security detail but was initially understaffed, leading to a delay in the procedure, correct?" A delay he himself suspected to be intentional not on the part of Taylor but on the part of the one responsible for Kahoku's death. Although several hours had passed between the changing of guard and the discovery of the murder, he could personally attest to the fact that the few precious minutes that delay had bought could already be used to set in motion an assassination attempt.
"Yes. That's correct. One of my guys had to go to the medical bay and I sent one of my corporals with him to make sure he actually went there."
"Sounds like you don't exactly have a lot of faith in the discipline of your soldiers, Lieutenant."
"Of course I don't. It's not exactly a secret that morale in the Fifth has been low since the Blitz. I only got here three months ago and already had more sick calls than during any other assignment," glancing at the colonel and looking around the empty gym before deciding to be genuine, Taylor went on, "if you ask me, it's a wonder anything gets done around here with all the sorry excuses of soldiers walking around this place. Now that Kahoku's not here to run the good part of the fleet tight enough to make up for the rest, I think you can start counting the days till the Fifth needs to be disbanded or reformed or something like that."
A more honest assessment than he had expected.
Probably a bit over-dramatic as well.
Going from leading an elite biotic assault unit to being transferred to one of the least desired postings in the HSA navy had obviously left Taylor frustrated, that much he could already tell. But what he really would've liked to know was who or what the marine had messed up to get to her. The lieutenant's service record had been strangely devoid of any particular reason that would've caused his commanding officer to transfer a powerful biotic officer, which were rare enough as it was, to something as mundane as leading a security detachment far away from the all-biotic shock companies of the HSA Marine Corps.
"So you took over the next rotation two men short."
"Initially. Corporal Wattana returned to his post as ordered after dropping off the sick-call."
"And you rest your case that the absence of these two soldiers didn't compromise your security detail?"
"Yes. Two men aren't going to make a difference. The entire deck is wired with surveillance equipment and there's nothing that gets by the security checkpoint without someone noticing."
"Except the murderer of Admiral Kahoku, apparently," Redford pointed out before quickly going on with his farce and ignoring the angry glare the marine shot him from where he was standing in the gym. "It was after midnight when you figured out that something was off and went to check on Kahoku. Do you remember the orders you gave when you found the admiral?"
"I called for a medic, ordered a lockdown of the deck and went to check on him."
"Which is why your prints were all over his body."
"That's usually what happens when you try and resuscitate someone," the underhand suggestion that Taylor assumed Redford had never been in a similar situation didn't have to be voiced for the specialist to understand where the marine was going. Not that it bothered him. He had nothing to prove to the lieutenant.
"Of course, my apologizes," Redford replied, still playing into the marine's expectations. "Now, I understand that you already went over this in your report but where there any suspicious activities prior to your discovery of the body? Anything out of the ordinary like a missed check-in?" There was a reason he was asking something as specific as that and both men knew.
"The two guys assigned to the port observation deck reported in late. I chalked it up to them sleeping on the job or stargazing to pass time."
"Privates James and Snijders," the specialist clarified from memory. "They were reprehended for this by you?"
"Yes. I told them to square up or face disciplinary action," if he hadn't already gotten the feeling that Taylor ran his new platoon tight because of a mixture of his own resentment for the assignment and a very real problem with discipline, Redford would've begun to suspect it by now "Guard duty on a dreadnought isn't as pointless as some marines like to think. If anything, Kahoku's death proves that much."
"So you suspect that their failure to do their job indirectly led to the admiral's death?" he asked, clearly accusing the two of them to draw a specific reaction out of Taylor.
"What? No, I don't," the lieutenant shook his head, rushing to their defense just as Redford had hoped he would. "Besides what I already told you about the surveillance equipment, there were three more posts between them and the admiral's office. There's no way anyone would've gotten through there unnoticed, no matter how lazy the two of them were," folding his arms again and making no effort to hide his annoyance whatsoever, the lieutenant shrugged. "I thought you said you read the report," he added accusingly.
"I did. My apologies," the specialist in disguise offered before pushing himself of the bench and considering the marine for another time. He definitely had gotten Taylor riled up enough to have the desired impact judging by the way his jaw was now clenched tight enough to make his teeth grind. "Ma'am, I believe I have what I need," he told Colonel Salib. "Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant Taylor," he added while extending a hand to the marine who begrudgingly shook it.
"My pleasure, Captain Bradford," Taylor replied, the grip on Redford's hand strong enough to reassure the specialist that he had had the desired impact. Angry about his assignment or not, Taylor would talk to someone and that someone would talk to other people until eventually, the right person got the impression that he was on the wrong track.
And once that happened, he'd make his real move.
Meanwhile, Armstrong Nebula, BC-313 New Dawn
"That'll be all, then Colonel Petrovsky," the woman nodded before closing the link to one of the men in charge of managing the number of former HSA personal that had decided to join their cause recently, his own experience with a change of loyalty making him the natural choice. "Captain Taylor, walk with me," she called into the room and turned around to find the dark-skinned XO already rising to his feet, ready as always.
"Yes, Admiral," he replied briskly before falling in behind her and following her out of the New Dawn's bridge and towards one of the more secluded sections of the deck, the skeleton crew operating the vessel ensuring that they didn't have to go very far before finding a quiet place. "I take it we ran into problems?" he asked a few moments later after she had come to a halt.
"Our operative on the Makalu finally got the opportunity to reported back," Drescher said as she looked down the light-grey corridor ahead of them, the spots where makeshift repairs had been made to damage sustained in the long period the New Dawn had spent adrift in space clashing with the otherwise excellent craftsmanship of the IFS' former shipwrights.
"And?" the officer asked in return, looking down the same corridor himself.
"And Kahoku's dead," Drescher offered, the fact that she had always carried a lot of respect for the late admiral adding weight to her tone. "Our attempt to turn him went bad and subsequently our operative was forced to eliminate him," it wasn't the first time that an HSA officer had refused their offer to change sides and payed the price for it. However it was the first time that it had hit someone she had known personally.
"I see," the XO replied, maintaining the strict and professional attitude that had made her value him so deeply. "Are they at risk of being caught?"
The admiral shook her head. "Not yet. But the HSA's investigation seems to be getting closer every day. From what I understand Arcturus got some of their best operatives involved."
"Section 13?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"At least one that we know of."
"So time's running against us."
"As always."
"I take it the operative's looking for a way off the Makalu now?"
"Yes."
"And you want me to handle that?" the man figured.
"No, actually," the admiral sighed before explaining the operative's plan, having yet to reveal the captain why she felt like telling him in private. "Their plan of extraction has been planned since the day they set foot on the Makalu. They'll trigger an explosion in one of the ship's critical components and use the commotion to make their escape."
"Sounds decent enough."
"If by decent you mean killing hundreds of sailors to cover their tracks, then yes. It does."
"If you expect me to feel sorry for them, Ma'am, don't. It's war," the man offered dryly, "and they made their choice when they enlisted with the enemy."
This was where their opinions had come to differ. Taylor, having spent all but the last months of his career fighting on the 'dirty' ground as a Paladin pilot instead of taking part in the 'clean' space conflict of the Fringe Wars held none of the respect that Drescher herself had developed for their former oppressors and foes. Like many IFSDF soldiers, Ronald Taylor had lost a lot of close friends to the HSA's attempt to subdue the rebellion in its outer colonies and like just about half of the officers that had managed to make it to this point, he still held onto the believe that the HSA remained the single biggest danger to them. He paid no heed to the alien slavers and marauders encroaching on humanity with every day and didn't approve of the decision to use the sentiment the short but intense alliance that had occurred during the Skyllian Blitz on Drescher's own orders to the IFS's advantage and to focus on the much bigger threats revealing themselves to mankind as it found its stride in a galaxy filled with the same alien life that had alluded it for nearly three centuries of Element Zero fueled space travel. To him the HSA would always be the enemy and no krogan, batarians or ,as of lately, geth would ever change that.
Although the remnant of a time long past, it wasn't necessarily bad to have someone with that mindset in her inner circle. No matter how much times changed, people like Ronald Taylor served to remind her of the inital reasons for the Fringe Worlds' rebellion and everything that had followed it. And should she ever turn her back on those very principles, he'd remind her and ensure that she stayed true to what so many of them had died fighting for. A future where the outer territories of humanity were free to make their own choices, safe from those who sought to exploit them and turn them into just another cog in a machine that couldn't care less about the actual people living their lives in them.
"There's something else you should know about the Makalu, Ronald."
Here came the part she hadn't been looking forward to. Cold or not, she worried what this news would do to the man.
"What is it?"
"Our operative forwarded a list of people stationed on the Makalu. And your son is one of them."
For a brief moment she could see a hint of emotion on Captain Ronald Taylor's face. But as quickly as the crack in his facade had appeared, it vanished. Whatever he felt in regards to that revelation being buried under the same complete commitment that had allowed him to walk away from everything at the end of the Fringe Wars and flee alongside the small remainder of the IFS' naval forces that had refused the senate's orders to stand down.
"Then there's nothing else I can do for him," her XO replied, showing her what she already should've known.
To Ronald Taylor the HSA would always be the enemy, no matter who's shape they took.
14. January 2415 AD, Bekenstein, Milgrom
"How is that guy still on the same glass?" the specialist muttered while pretending to be occupied with the drink in front of him and catching a glimpse of the man in the blue suit in the reflection produced by the polished window that separated him from the rest of the city's colourful skyline and a very deep drop.
"Some people like taking things slow," his partner, who was observing the whole scene from an adjacent rooftop, replied.
"Is that supposed to be a double entendre?" he replied after taking a brief sip from his own glass, doing his best to make it seem like he was actually enjoying the taste of the beverage, the knowledge just how much this single glass had costed HSAIS already making it that much more bitter.
"I'll leave that decision up to someone else."
"Speaking of decisions," he spoke into the small radio of his watch, "I think we need to make one here. He's been here for two hours already. We need to make a move before our window closes."
"Doesn't look like he's leaving any time soon from here. I say we wait it out, stick to the plan."
"Hmm," he gave a half-reply.
Said plan relied on two things. Their mark's own arrogance that he could actually pull off the fake-heist that had been used to lure him to Bekenstein and the fact that he had bought the lie that the HSA considered him to be dead at the hands of the Shadow Broker. The latter part obviously wasn't the problem, otherwise he never would've shown up on a human colony. What worried the specialist was the reason he had come here in the first place, namely stealing something they knew he had already been looking for while working for the Shadow Broker. They knew Okuda didn't work alone. He had an otherwise unknown female partner to help him with things like that. As he looked around, spotting no person who could feasibly be that partner, his gut was telling him that something about the raid had gone haywire and that they really were running out of time to grab Okuda.
"What are you doing, Magic?" Yo-yo asked as he set the glass down on an empty table and began moving to the two person table their mark had been sitting at for the past two hours and biding his time.
"You're gonna improvise, aren't you?" she asked with a sigh.
Given the trouble they had gone through to lure the agent out, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.
"Yep."
As Morneau crossed the restaurant, passing by a number of people who likely belonged to the local colonial elite, he noticed that by the way he was slowly lowering his wine glass, his mark was realising he was being approached by someone.
"Fine. Do what you have to. I'll be here, making sure no one shoots you while you're at it," after the quick complaint, his earpiece and radio went silent, both specialists knowing that any further communication between them may blow their already fragile covers prematurely.
Not that he figured they'd last much longer.
"Do I know you?" the man in the dark-blue suit asked as Morneau sat down opposite to him, being completely uninvited but still appearing like he belonged. He had to give it to him, for a man in his fifties, Okuda didn't look that much older than him from up-close. If he hadn't tracked his every move to this point, he might've worried about having gotten the wrong guy.
"No, but I know you," he replied while casually hanging his suit jacket over the wooden chair in a manner that kept up the illusion that he was the one the man had been waiting for. "You're Keiji Okuda. HSAIS, Bureau for Field Work, Section 4, Asset Acquisition," he had memorized that part a long time ago. "You basically got paid to be a thief. That is until you decided to change employers."
"You know what they say, do what you love and you never work a day in your life," Okuda chuckled before folding his hands on the table in a manner that appeared extremly casual. "What about you? Internal Affairs? Or good old Section Nine? What was it they call those guys? Cleaners?"
"Neither," Morneau replied as he mirrored the man's posture, intentionally revealing his watch in the process.
"I see. Thirteen then?" Okuda asked while scratching his chin and not so subtly glancing at the device on his wrist.
"Bingo," the specialist replied before covering up the faint bluish glow of the watch again.
"I have to say, I'm flattered. I didn't think I'd be that important," Okuda smirked as he rubbed his hands together. Watching this behaviour, Morneau couldn't help but realise how surprisingly unsurprised the rogue agent appeared to be. There was only really one logical explanation, one that would explain his gut feeling about this mission.
"You knew this was a set-up," he had to, otherwise he'd be a lot more nervous about being confronted by HSAIS. Well that or he had simply gotten tired of being on the run.
"No. I wouldn't say that I knew. That's too strong of a word, " the older man shrugged. "Let's say I hoped it'd turn out to be one."
Close enough.
"Why's that?" Morneau asked while waving away the waiter closing in on their table. Much to both the woman's and the restaurants dismay, neither of them would be ordering anything else right now.
"Because I want a deal," Okuda offered before taking another sip from the glass of wine and placing it next to the opened bottle resting on the table. Evidently savoring the moment it took Morneau to comprehend that offer, the Section 4 agent looked out of the window of the penthouse restaurant, observing the neon ligthshow of the dozen smaller skyscrapers surrounding the most central one they were in right now, before he continued speaking.
"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to find me this quickly. Figured I'd have some time to enjoy Bekenstein. See the captial, have a romantic date with my woman, maybe make a couple of additions to my collection while I was at it," as a smirk crossed his lips, Morneau sized Okuda up. "As I am sure you know, I've always been something of an art curator." The personality assessment had certainly been on point. It took a special kind of arrogance to face what could turn into an assassin and pretend to be the one in control of the entire thing.
"Well, sorry for ruining your plans," the specialist replied before leaning forward in the chair. "As for how we found you this quickly, that one's really your own fault," he went on, figuring to at least make a dent into the man's ego before he considered his offer. "We knew you'd be coming here. So the only thing we had to do was use a facial recognition VI and pick you out of the city crowd. That's not exactly witchcraft."
"Facial recognition VIs in public places," Okuda whistled. "You know, sometimes I think the Iffys might've been onto something when they called us an oppressive police state."
"Maybe. Maybe not," discussing that subject wasn't why he had come here. "History's written by the victor. Doesn't really matter if they had a point after they lost, does it?"
"What a strange reply from a specialist nonetheless. Aren't the lot of you supposed to be loyal to the bone?" the thief smirked again. "Now if I didn't know any better, I would've said you were rooting for the other team back then."
"Let's just cut to the chase," enough of playing the agent's games. "You committed high treason, Okuda. That means a life sentence is waiting for you. So if you want a deal, you have to give me something really valuable," Morneau explained, leaving out the detail that he couldn't actually make a call of that magnitude by himself and gambling on the fact that Okuda didn't know that.
"Since you put it like that, I'm going to assume that you already have something in mind," he wasn't wrong. "What do you want?" Okuda asked while pouring more wine into his half-empty glass.
"I want to know how you contacted the Shadow Broker directly while you worked for him. No middlemen, no proxies. The man himself."
"So HSAIS is dealing with the devil after all? I knew it'd only be a matter of time," the former agent replied with a chuckle. "But sure. If it gives me my immunity, I'll tell you how to contact the man himself. With an insurance of course, wouldn't want to force you to come back for me, now would I?" as he brought up his omni-tool, Okuda went on. "I think this is the point where you give me some insurance yourself. Something that'll prove to me that you'll uphold your end of the deal and won't put a bullet into me the moment you have what you want."
"You know exactly that the only guarantee I can give you for that is my word."
"That doesn't really sound all that promising to me, Specialist. If you want this," he waved at his omni-tool, "I'll need a little more than th-" having heard enough of Okuda's false sense of control, Morneau slowly lifted his shirt just enough to reveal the pistol hidden below it. It managed to silence the man rather effectively.
"The only deal I can give you is that if you give me what I want and stay away from Council space, the official version of this mission will be that you never showed up and that we've got no idea where the hell you are."
"That's not the kind of immunity I had in mind," Okuda shrugged as the omni-tool disappeared. "Maybe life in jail doesn't sound so bad after all? I heard the food got a lot better since I got pardoned."
"It's the only thing that I'll give you," Morneau replied while readjusting his shirt. "I suggest you take it. Because honestly? People like you don't get deals or face a judge. They end up having weird accidents. If anyone else had been sent after you, we wouldn't even be sitting here in the first place. So do the smart thing, Okuda. Give me what I want and walk away," it was another gamble. He was counting on the fact that the thief turned agent turned Shadow Broker operative turned thief again liked living. In his opinion, the odds of that being the case were pretty high.
Sighing in a mixture of frustration and amusement, he watched the older man type on his omni-tool. "You should know that the Broker tried to lock me out of his network after I," he paused for a moment, "had a change of heart about being his employee. But given that I already assumed something like that might happen, I went through the trouble of ensuring that I wouldn't actually be the one getting locked out," as the older man looked at Morneau and likely noticed his doubt, he explained. "You see, the beauty of only working with codenames and secret identities is that it's pretty easy to pretend to be someone else. As far as the Broker knows," he went after quickly showing him a communication channel no doubt belonging to the Broker's network, "I'm an operative of his inner circle working from the Citadel," causing the hologram to disappear with a wave of his hand, Okuda slowly reached for something on his belt, causing Morneau to slowly reach for something himself. Although he didn't think he'd try something, it was better to be ready. While he was sure he was the faster draw, he wasn't going to take any chances.
Dying in a restaurant of all places would just be embarrassing really.
"And this works, why?" he asked, skeptically watching the man unclip his omni-tool and slide it over the desk.
"Because as you'll soon notice yourself, the Broker doesn't think he can be wrong. Especially not lately. If you think I'm arrogant, you'll have to come up with a new word entirely for that guy."
"You know what happens if I have to come back," he muttered after quickly checking the comm-channel for himself.
"Only if you find me again," Okuda shrugged as the specialist prepared to leave. "I take it we're done here?"
"Yeah. We're done here," Morneau nodded before suddenly feeling the need to clarify one last thing. "Say, why'd you do it? Personal believes? Disillusion?" he asked halfway through getting up, pulling on the dark jacket as he waited for a reply of the now chuckling man. He wasn't sure why he was asking, Okuda had turned into a means to an end and now that he had served his purpose, he shouldn't waste any more time on a traitor like him. Then again, it was never wrong to try and understand someone else's actions, was it?
"None of that sentimental shit," he laughed, dropping his previous etiquette."I did it out of simple self-preservation. Unlike these morons, I know a disaster when I see it," the former agent offered with a wave of his hand, loud enough for the couple sitting directly behind them to hear, "Even before Eden Prime got hit, it was obvious that Council Space was heading for something bad. Since I didn't plan to be around for when whatever is making us and the turians so damn nervous finally shows its face, I decided to change careers beforehand." He had another word for that kind of self-preservation. "Now before you worry about security breaches, I don't actually know what it is. I just know that it's obviously really bad. Call it a gut feeling."
Coward or not, he was savvy for a thief. Who knew? In another, less self-centered life Okuda might've even ended up some place else, being more than just a pardoned thief with a lackluster sense of loyalty.
"If you know that something's coming, you've got even more of a reason to stay away from HSA space," Morneau figured, glad to have learned that the chances of him having to come back for Okuda seemed to be slim to none. With everything going on, chasing an arrogant turncoat was the least of his priorities.
"Yes I do," he nodded while grabbing the bottle of wine and filling up his glass again. "You wouldn't happen to have any particular suggestions for a romantic get-away for me and my associate, would you?"
Alright. Maybe not entirely self-centered.
What the hell. The further he'd get him to go, the less likely it was he'd ever have to speak to him ever again.
"The loneliest, most uncharted place the two of you can find."
"That bad?"
"That bad."
"Good thing I won't be around then," the thief muttered before raising the wineglass. "Here's to my new life. Free of whatever the fuck you're gonna have to deal with soon enough."
Watching as the older man emptied his glass in one sip, Morneau merely shook his head before walking away. It really was a good thing that he wouldn't be around for their fight. Men like Okuda weren't the kind of people you could count on when it came down to it. Although knowing what he knew, the specialist couldn't exactly blame the rogue agent for wanting no part in what was to come. Fighting the impossible fight wasn't everyone's cup of tea. When he had left the table without another word, the first thing Morneau did was to wait for his partner to speak up, something he knew she couldn't resist.
"Well, that went better than expected. We didn't even have to interrogate him. Why can't every op be like this one? We show up, they give us what we want and we go home."
"Because then we'd be out of a job, Yo-yo," he figured on his way to the elevator, ignoring the glare the waiter from earlier was throwing at him for having taken up a lot of their time without actually leaving that much money at their place.
"We could switch to the private sector," the other specialist figured as the doors of the penthouse elevator opened, three people, a turian, an asari and a human all clad in formal evening wear fit for their species, stepping out before him. As the specialist noticed the small, decorative three-pronged red star attached to the collar of the human's white suit jacket, he waited for them to pass before whispering in his radio again.
"Yo-yo, since when do colonial administrations allow mercenaries on their planets?"
"They usually don't?" it was as much a statement as it was a confused question.
"Then why did I just walk past three Final Wave mercs?"
"On the paper the Final Wave is a private security contractor, not a merc outfit," the unseen woman figured. "And since they're the Broker's go-to guys, they're probably here for Okuda," Yo-yo figured before asking Morneau something that he himself had started to wonder right now. "But that's not our problem anymore, is it?"
Quickly putting his hands in between the closing elevator doors, forcing the security mechanism to trigger and causing the doors to open again, Morneau took a step outside to looked the way he had come from, finding an abandoned two person table, a half-emptied and most likely unpaid for wine bottle and three confused mercenaries right where Okuda had been not two minutes ago.
"Magic?"
"No," he replied with a faint grin while retreating back into the elevator. "Not our problem anymore."
Really pretty savvy for a thief.
2156 CE, Pranas System, Sur'Kesh, Outer Districts of Talat
Slandering through the upper layers of one of the large structures standing against the jungle below as a testament of the salarian taming of every inch of Sur'Kesh's surface, he gave the impression of idly looking at the banners belonging to this arcology's ruler, a minor fiefdom sworn to serve the house of a somewhat bigger dalatrass that in turn had given her loyalty to a vassal of one of the many great dynasties that ruled over most of his people. Ignoring the sting in his gut that the sight of the banner produced, he picked up a fruit and quickly payed for it in the local currency, not bothering to think about how his society had been engineered to be fractured to the point where no one could hope to actually challenge the rule of those simply born into power down to the point where different parts of Sur'Kesh still used different kinds of money.
"Thank you," he heard the merchant call behind him as she realised how much the other salarian had actually given her. Not wanting to drag any more attention to him, he simply walked along in the knowledge that he had at least improved one life today.
"And I'm saying that you can't sleep here unless you're paying the proper tax," a frustrated security officer sighed as he spoke to what looked like a salarian that judging by the disformed horns on his head and far too broad stature was just one gene shy of being a lystheni, a distant cousin of his species of which just about every member had taken their leave from Council Space at the first possible moment, tired of being the doormat of salarian society for the sole reason of having been deemed more primitive and brutish than his own people by a generation long dead, gone and forgotten.
"I did pay. Stop bothering me already!" the other salarian insisted in a slower pace than most of his people, rising to his feet and producing another groan from the security officer despite being nearly a head taller than him.
Deciding not to interfere, he went along, knowing all to well that they were both victims of the same system. As he climbed down another set of stairs, passing another layer of the market in the process, the teal salarian went on for another short while before coming to a halt in a narrow alley way, knocking on an unimpressive door of an unremarkable and poorly visited teashop.
"Can't you see the sign? We're closed," a voice replied from the other side.
"A weary wanderer is always welcome, no?"
"I said we're closed," the voice insisted. "Come back when you learn to read."
"Then I shall return when the Jeshesh blossoms," he muttered while lifting the medallion hidden under his robe. Not a second later the door was pulled open.
"Ginon!" the salarian on the other end called before pulling him into an embrace. "Feels like it's been forever," his friend added before letting go of him and subsequently shutting the door. "What brings you to Sur'Kesk? Thought you were done with this place?"
"I was," Ginon admitted while rubbing his neck and nodding at the few guests occupying the 'closed' teashop, all looking like the kind of people who'd stand out even in the dense crowds that had flooded the market not two hours earlier and all being part of the network he had built in this fiefdom exactly because they were outcasts. "But something changed. Had to return home," he explained as he took a seat at one of the table where two of the guests were playing a game of Vaelo too fast-paced for non-salarians, the swift movement of the pieces and rapid changes of who's turn it was relying on his species' naturally quicker thought-process to be enjoyable. He reached for one of the pieces currently not in the game and flipped it in the air a couple of times before wiping his thumb against the unmarked side of the coin-like piece of plastic, producing a faint golden glow not a second later.
"What did?" his friend asked as he pulled a cabinet sideways to reveal the communications array hidden behind it.
This was the beauty of everyone believing they had been dead for two millenia. No one ever bothered to look for them, not even the vaunted STG who maintained a large, of course highly classified, base not far from where the League of One had decided to place their own base of operations on the salarian homeworld. In a way it was the ultimate mockery of the dalatrasses and their pawns of the Salarian Union.
"The geth attack on Council Space," Ginon explained as he tossed the golden-glowing piece over to the tea-shop owner who caught it with ease before putting it into a slot of the array. "Change of behaviour was unexpected, uncharacteristic," watching as a hologram of a twelve-pointed, colorful flower assembled itself from the array hidden behind the cabinet, the teal salarian picked up another piece and began juggling it between his fingers, a habit practiced to the point of perfection.
"Worried about the consequences?" the shop-owner asked just as Ginon caught the small disk between two of his fingers and looked at the glyph etched into it, this one representing the lowest class of pieces available in Vaelo, a pawn, and allowed a smirk spread across his face.
"No," he corrected while dropping the piece back to where he had picked it up and before walking over to the hologram, activating it with a touch of his palm and causing the center of the flower to expand in recognition of a league member, "eager to use the opportunity."
Meanwhile, 14. January 2415 AD, Theseus System, HSASV Normandy
"I said that I'm receiving a broadcast on an HSA frequency, Commander," the pilot of the stealth frigate repeated over the intercom of the conference room as Shepard looked at the assembled ground team and the projection of the turian Blackwatch lieutenant joining their briefing to fill in for the rest of her team occupied elsewhere on the Parnack. "And before you asked, I checked. Twice. It's not a glitch. It's really there."
"I wasn't aware that the HSA maintained a presence on Feros," the turian lieutenant was the first to speak up. "Or this far in the Attican Traverse at all."
"Thing is, we don't," Shepard replied, keeping her confusion in check. If Harper had gone out of the way of telling her that they were going to Feros solely because of a message the person they were chasing had sent, he definitely would've told her about any human presence on the planet below as well.
"Could be the geth trying to lure us into an ambush," Williams muttered from her seat at the table. "If they can jam our comms, who's to say they can't mimic them?"
"She's got a point Ma'am," Alenko injected. "The geth love to ambush their enemies and they've had more than enough time and source material to figure out how to replicate our comms ever since Eden Prime. It didn't take them that long to crack quarian encryption during their rebellion, did it?"
"No, it didn't," the other biotic in the room, or rather her hologram, replied. "You are certain that there's no human presence on Feros, Commander?"
"At least not one that I know of," Shepard shrugged.
"Understood," Lieutenant Callius added as her mandibles clicked against her face plates in an unknown expression that likely only the turian detective and possibly Wrex could place correctly. "Ambush or not, following the signal is our best option. Besides the message that led us here, we don't have anything to go by and considering the dense clustering of prothean structures on the surface, scanning for something of value simply isn't a feasable course of action."
Subconsciously rubbing her hand at the mention of something prothean, the last times she had come into contact with technology of their precursors still fresh in her memory, Shepard suppressed the frown that could've revealed her own concern in regards to what was going on with her.
"I take it we're going in as fast as we can?" the N7 turned Spectre asked as she returned to the conversation. "I don't exactly want to take any chances of the geth spotting us. Camo or not, who knows what they've come up with since Therum," that was another part that made fighting the geth so ridiculously difficult. If they found a solution to a tactic of their foe, they didn't need time to train their troops in it. Like a software update, they simply altered their code and altered their behaviour from one moment to the next.
"Yes. My team is already preparing itself for the drop," hence their absence. "I suggest that you ready your own squad as well. A more detailed plan of attack will be forwarded to the Normandy shortly."
"Understood," Emily nodded, aware that she technically could make up her own plan of attack if she wanted to, being a Spectre and part of an entirely different military did put her out of the turian chain of command. But considering that General Arterius had been to only one to be completely truthful with her, and not to mention was far more knowledgeable with the situation they were dealing with, she figured following his plan was her best option. As the hologram faded out of existence, it didn't take long for one of her crew to speak up.
"Heh. Heading straight into a geth ambush," the krogan chuckled as he pushed himself of the wall, not having bothered to try and sit in one of the chairs clearly too small for him. "You really know how to keep things interesting, Shepard." Although he was as eager as usually, the commander hoped that their last conversation would have the desired effect and that the bounty hunter wouldn't go charging off again. If they really were heading into a trap, she needed Wrex to act as a part of the team, not like a down-sized, krogan Paladin with biotic abilities.
"I wouldn't call it interesting," the turian detective muttered before rising from a chair that had obviously been built with turian comfort in mind, the shared origin of the Normandy benefiting him far more than Wrex. "Deadly is probably the better word for it," as time went on, Shepard really got the impression that the only reason Garrus Vakarian was here was because he had been ordered to. Between that and Alenko's own worries regarding the C-SEC officer, the red-haired marine still failed to make up a clear mind in regards to the turian. On the one hand Therum had proven him to be reliable. On the other hand, she really got the impression that if given the chance, he'd do a lot of things differently than her.
"You said the same thing about the volcano, Blue. Still turned out fine, didn't it?"
"Luck has a tendency to run out eventually," Vakarian offered. "If there's nothing else you want to say to us, Commander, I'd like to prepare my gear now. Feros isn't exactly a fun place to fight through. Especially not for a sniper."
"No. I've got nothing. You're all dismissed. Get ready for the drop," she said and subsequently the rest of the squad got up.
"You've been on Feros before?" Alenko injected shortly after catching up to the turian, walking by her just close enough for her to hear the turian's mumbled reply.
"Chasing pirates for the Hierarchy takes you to weird places, Lieutenant."
Interesting.
As she was about to consider following them asking him about it herself, a bluish figure stepped into the conference room just as Williams left it.
"Commander, if you're going to Feros, you have to allow me to come me along," the asari archeologist insisted, the small medbay bracelet attached to her wrist combined with the knowledge that she had still been unconscious when the meeting had begun clueing Shepard off on the fact that she maybe shouldn't be walking around already, let alone be eavesdropping on their briefings.
"Easy there, Doctor," besides the fact that the reason behind rescuing the asari had been her connection to the Councilor she was looking for, or rather had been looking for until the Blackwatch general had told her that Matriarch Benezia T'Soni was likely under the same influence that had also claimed his brother, the N7 couldn't exactly claim to have faith in the archeologist's ability to stand up for herself in what was likely a geth ambush. Sure, she somehow had survived the onslaught at the Cerberus outpost on Therum but judging by the state she had been in when they had found her, it had been sheer luck and the geth's desire to capture her that had kept her alive, not her own abilities. "I don't think you're in any shape to even leave the medbay yet," she added as she saw Doctor Chakwas enter the room behind her, a both worried and frustrated expression on her face.
"Feros is the biggest known prothean ruin in the galaxy," the asari doctor said as her blue eyes filled with excitement. "I simply have to be there when you explore it."
"It's alright, Doctor Chakwas," Shepard waved with her hand as she saw the human doctor reach for the asari. "I 'll handle this," she added before returning her attention to the asari who despite being some eighty years older than her was currently acting like an overly excited teenager. "Doctor T'Soni, we're not going to explore Ferros," she began. "We're going to make a combat drop into what might be a geth ambush-"
"I can handle myself," she interrupted her.
"And I'm not saying that you can't," she was only thinking it. "But saving you from the geth only to sent you to go and fight them at the next possible occasion is kind of pointless, don't you think?" Expecting to receive another counter, Shepard watched as Liara T'Soni's face lost it's excitement.
"Considering what happened when you touched the artifact on Therum and how the beacon on Eden Prime might've been related to it, having a prothean expert and xenoanthropologist with you when you come in contact with prothean technology on Feros might be for your own safety. That way if something happens to you, you'll have someone with you that's able to revert the effects without taking you out of the battle entirely."
Well damn. Had she just turned Emily's safety argument on her?
Scratch that. How did she know about the beacon?
Wait. Harper. Of course.
How else really?
"Doctor Chakwas?" she asked as she looked at the older human woman who was taken by surprise just as much as her.
"Doctor T'Soni isn't wrong. I'm a physician. Whatever the beacon did to you wasn't a medical issue. You woke up on your own. If something happens to you on Feros, she might be the only one who can really figure out what and help you."
Yes.
She had turned the argument on her.
"Gunnery Sergeant?" she spoke into her omni-tool a moment later, admitting her defeat to reason.
"Ma'am?"
"Can you find a spare hardsuit for Doctor T'Soni?"
After a short moment had passed in which the NCO likely tried to make sense of the request, her reply came through.
"I don't think that'll be necessary, Ma'am" she said. "The marines who went in after us logged a set of armor belonging to her as part of the salvage."
Looking at the asari and watching a smile spread over her freckled face, Shepard was really starting to ask herself what she had just gotten herself into.
Codex: Lystheni (Part of entry series 'Salarian Society')
Viewed as outcasts in their society, Lystheni are an off-shot species of the salarians, having co-evolved, or as some groups like to say devolved, from the ancestors of Sur'Kesh's dominant species at a still undetermined point in the evolutionary history of their species. As the product of a series of genetic anomalies, which cause Lystheni to be stronger and more resilient but, at least when compared to the average salarian, slower and less adapt at learning than their genetic cousins, the now rare sub-species faced wide-spread discrimination right until willingly leaving Council space to put as much distance between them and Sur'Kesh as possible.
While poorly studied by the salarians themselves, a cultural stigma and lack of Lystheni test subjects following their self-inflicted exodus of Sur'Kesh, batarian xenoanthropologist that spent considerable time studying the subspecies came to the conclusion that the genetic anomaly responsible for the split of the salarian species might not have been a natural one but instead the product of a failed attempt to turn the comparatively frail salarians into a more resilient, more capable race meant to serve the unknown race that caused the split.
Never encountered in Council Space, the number of Lystheni living in the galaxy and more specifically the Terminus System is unknown but, according to the Salarian Union, may range from anywhere between the human and salarian population, covering a range from roughly forty billion to nearly a trillion individuals, making them the most unaccounted for species in the galaxy.
Seen as one of the several 'unpleasant' remnants of salarian history before their first contact with the asari, the existence of the Lystheni remained a closely kept secret for centuries, only being revealed to the galaxy when members of the race stumbled upon Council forces fighting the rachni and being believed an entirely species altogether. However thanks to having no interest in aiding their cousins with their struggle for survival, the Lystheni shot down any attempts of contact with Council ever since, only ending up in batarian captivity due to Terminus raiders or being spotted alongside the Quarian Migrant Fleet who's shared fate, namely the lack of a homeworld, has led the otherwise xenophobic Lystheni to come to regard the quarians as the closest thing to an ally they have.
A/N:
I'm not dead. Surprise!
The reason why it took me this long to update is basically one thing. Work. I just haven't had the time to sit down and write a lot, hence this ridicilously slow pace.
NOthing else really. No apologies, no excuses, no lack of motivation. Just a lack of time.
Yeah.
Let's talk chapter.
This is basically just another setup chapter with one special thingey.
A reminder that the League of One still exists.
I didn't forget about them.
I was however worried that a lot of you did.
Hence, they're still around. Now you know.
Other than that? Not a lot to say actually.
Other than of course, this lack of time isn't over. It's going to stick with me probably until at least January, which is something i'm gonna have to deal with. (Don't know how it's going to affect SV as a whole yet, just know if nothing happens for a couple of months its not because I ditched but because I'm busy.
For the record we're at 494 reviews, 753 favorites and 839 follows.
Hello everyone that's new.
To the rest, as usual..
See you around next time.
