Emiya considered the space station ahead, visible through the bridge window as the cruiser approached it.

Earlier, he had quietly followed Miranda, taking their gear with him as he walked to board a shuttle to be taken aboard another vessel that would take them the rest of the way to the Citadel. Apparently, a civilian cruiser would be allowed to dock much more quickly than a commercial freighter would be.

Probably had to do with the sizes of the ships.

However big the Citadel was, even its space was still at a premium. And it was big. Words had failed him with the mass relays but this was beyond even that. In a completely different way, but still overwhelming nonetheless. He looked up, and up, and up. As they drew ever closer, it just never seemed to end.

It was massive beyond words - a central ring, with five fan-like extensions forming a spinning and habitable station that acted as the seat of galactic society's center. Some twelve million inhabitants of all races lived there, with a rough two million being humans included in that number, despite their relative youth on the galactic scene.

Humanity always did enjoy pushing its borders, he noted with a wry smile.

The cruiser slowed down, approaching the space docks on the Citadel. There was a flash of unease, but then it was gone, as if buried beneath ten thousand years worth of dirt. He frowned, not quite understanding what it was, but comprehending nonetheless that something about this place was putting him on edge beyond just its size.

It's probably just the numerous mass relays behind us, he thought with a shake of his head. From here, with a sufficient force, you could reach anywhere in the galaxy pretty much instantly.

Singular relays had been off-putting, but the countless mass relays all resting on this side, just floating around in space... They had made him feel unsteady on his feet, the fabric of reality slipping and humming against his senses. Intellectually he understood it; the power necessary to sling a ship halfway across the galaxy had to be on that scale. Yet, he still felt that strange vertigo and had to fight against that purple of the Serpent Nebula that seemed to go on forever, swallowing everything whole... and for some reason, he had a strange notion that any number of mass relays could have been hidden in that unknowable mist-like region, like some ancient unliving predators hidden just beneath the surface of dark waters.

Shaking his head, he pushed away all thoughts of the mass relays to the back of his head and looked up at the Citadel. It alone was enough to keep him occupied for now.

It was...

There was something about it, like the smell of copper and the taste of acid on his tongue as he saw it. But as he tried to understand it, it continued to elude him. Something about this place was off - but he couldn't quite place that sensation's nature or cause.

"Dianne, as soon as we've docked make a scouting run for the ball. I want a complete and updated layout of the venue, at least three hours before we have to walk in there. That includes guest list, security specs, and the party plan." Miranda said—interrupting Emiya's thoughts—arms crossed as she looked at Dianne. "If they're having pot roast pie for dinner, I want to know about it."

The woman with a darker complexion nodded, accepting the order without any of her usual commentary or witticisms. She has a troublesome personality, but once on the job, she's serious.

"Strap yourself up, Emil. I need you looking dangerous enough to scare off a krogan by the time we alight," she continued, looking at Emiya.

He was wearing his 'civilian' clothes since he had assumed that they would be boarding as regular civilians. But he had brought along the suitcase of Cerberus' gear from the freighter, so it was fine.

Nodding at her, he said nothing as he turned around to go change.

Having geared up and wearing two pistols plus an assault rifle, he certainly felt the part of being some wetworks operative for a shady organization as he returned to the bridge.

Miranda looked him over, nodding with satisfaction. "We will be heading to the Zakera Ward to start with."

"Understood."

They began to approach one of the Citadel arms—the great fan-blade-like extensions on which most of the station's inhabitants lived—and he could hear one of the pilots begin communications with Citadel Control. As they approached the keel dock, the cruiser began to slow down again.

"Why did we switch ships?" Emiya asked, glancing at Miranda. Leaving behind his body worried him, though there was no real need for alarm. "Couldn't the cruiser have picked us up at Armstrong? The Demeter would have probably made it to the Citadel on time, too."

She raised an eyebrow at his question, before looking away.

"It's a matter of paper trail. Right now, we'll be coming from Bekenstein and the ship's records will agree. We'll have to have at least this level of background, to pass off."

He considered that.

"Will it be alright for us to be walking around heavily armed, then?"

She turned to smile at him, though it bore on the barest of kindness. "Oh, don't you worry about that. Thinking about these things is my job."

He frowned, not sure if she was mocking him but accepting her words as the rebuke they were. 'Shut up and do as you're told', is it?

The cruiser docked, the magnetic clamps echoing inside the vessel as they attached themselves to the ship's hull.

"Good. Dianne, you know where to meet up, once you're done?" Miranda asked, putting on her own mask. It was similar in design to her thin bodysuit, hardly enough to be called protection, but it hid most of her face regardless.

Dianne nodded, crossing her arms as she waited for them to move out. Checking that they had everything, they left the starship.

They walked out the airlock, entering the dock, and Emiya had to blink and forcefully keep himself from gawking around.

There was nothing overhead, revealing the insides of the five Citadel arms in all their glory. He could see thousands of skyscrapers dotting the insides of each arm, with hundreds of large starships flying around between the arms themselves. And through the arms themselves, the purple of the Serpent Nebula looming beyond could be seen.

It felt rather surreal.

Emiya looked around, half-gaping at the truly massive structure he was on right now. Unlike with mass effect field generated artificial gravity, as onboard the starships, here it was partially being generated through centrifugal force.

All the different planets and moon he had visited so far each had a 'flavor' to them, as did starships using eezo. But this seemed somehow empty in comparison, and he felt a slight sideways motion as he took his first steps on the dock. He knew that planets spun as well, but he wasn't sure where the notable difference exactly lay between the two now that he was on 'the inside' as it were.

I wonder if anyone suffers from nausea due to it?

Ahead, several humans in uniform stood next to some of the cruiser's personnel, talking and comparing their omnitools and datapads. He figured they were docking personnel, come to check who was landing and to perform a perfunctory check on the cargo, or something.

The docking personnel glanced their way but then pointedly ignored them as they walked past into an elevator.

This was probably where he would have been caught and had to force his way through, had he tried to sneak aboard a starliner or a regular inbound vessel in his body. But Cerberus apparently had paid off all the officials, or then they had enough staff on the inside to be able to simply walk by without being stopped and searched like normal people.

Miranda punched in a floor on the elevator panel and the doors closed.

Still, even if he had passed now, that might not be the case for his body. Hopefully, his sealed icebox had sufficient thickness and shielding to prevent anyone in customs from realizing just what it was that he had shipped in... But he would probably have to be ready on stand-by to extract it when it arrived.

It would make his timetable a bit cramped, but he would deal with it.

"See you two around," Dianne said, stepping out and disappearing into the crowd just outside the doors. Miranda nodded in response and the elevator doors closed as they bound off again.

These elevators aren't half-bad. I can't even feel it, but we're moving at pretty ridiculous speeds. Emiya wholeheartedly admired the engineering and inertial dampeners as dozens of floors passed by.

;

Miranda glanced at Emil as he followed two steps behind her, at her left flank. Like a silent shadow - waiting at her beck and call, violence barely restrained.

That was good.

She had to make sure Rasa did not poach him before she could get him wrapped around her finger. Already he seemed to be entertaining thoughts about the other. He showed too much promise and...

She ignored that line of thinking, focusing on the present.

"How about we go eat, first?" she asked, turning around with a casual smile. "I doubt my contact has even woken up yet."

He blinked, half-frowning before he nodded. "...If you're sure."

She smirked, turning around and continuing to walk with a skip to her step.

Of the five Citadel arms, she preferred Tayseri Ward with its numerous cultural and arts-oriented facilities. But Zakera Ward was not that far behind, with its many curious and quirky streets and shops.

All of the Wards were densely populated, reminding her almost of Tokyo or Dubai, though only tangentially. With the lack of strong natural light, it was usually dark out between the wards, but artificially bright and colorful inside, creating a stark contrast that sometimes left tears in her eyes. All kinds of various shops, boutiques, and restaurants advertised themselves as being open for businesses at all hours of the day—since the sun never set on the Citadel, everything being open and running on a rotating staff was the standard—so there was always something to do or see out here

The Citadel standard of time was based on the average day length taken from the turian, salarian and asari homeworlds, but since there was no enforced light cycle—as on the Presidium, for example—in the Wards no one really cared. Everyone lived on their own fluid schedules, requiring new arrivals always to do a bit of adjusting before they could fit in.

She walked down the dark street, passing by neon signs and open doorways, staffed in equal number by beckoning servers and scowling bouncers.

"It hasn't changed much since I was here last," she commented, just loudly enough that he should be able to hear if he had been paying attention to her.

Glancing at him, she noted how he seemed to stare at every alien they walked past. The short and rotund volus in their sealed environment suits garnered but a glance from him, while the great and lumbering four-legged elcor seemed to elicit a much sharper interest.

It was amusing to watch, but she did not eye him merely for personal interest. He did not seem to hold any overt dislike towards any of them, she judged finally.

That was good. While Cerberus' aim was to ensure humanity's ascendance in the galaxy, it was no good to be bound by petty prejudices and small-minded sentimentalities - true excellence could not stem from envy or hate. She would deal with anyone and those whom she would work with ought to have equal ability in that regard, at the very least.

They passed by a hanar, its great glowing tentacles billowing in the air as it smoothly sailed past them. She could feel his interest piquing as his head turned to follow the walking jellyfish even as they walked past it.

She smiled.

For all of his stoic front, she could see hints of his true thoughts just below the surface in everything he did. He was obviously quite overwhelmed and excited about all of this, even as he did his best to appear wholly in control and unconcerned about everything around them.

"The hanar are quite something, aren't they?" she asked and he blinked, turning to look at her.

"'Hanar'? I see. I almost mistook it for something else. But they seem harmless enough," Emil admitted.

"Certainly. As long as you don't ask them about their enkindlers, they're completely harmless."

"Hmm?" He made a questioning sound, walking up to her.

It was difficult to hold a proper conversation if he was merely walking behind her, after all; he judged correctly that she desired to converse right now.

She smiled. Yes, this was better.

"The hanar believe that the extinct Protheans are something akin to gods, calling them the 'enkindlers' and preaching to anyone who will listen about their glorious light."

"Huh, really now."

Miranda could see his roused interest as he turned to give the creature one last glance. She raised an eyebrow, wondering just what he found so fascinating about that, but putting a note of it for later in the back of her mind.

They continued walking, arriving at a hanar-run establishment by the name of 'Enkindled Entrée' when run through her omnitool's translator. She stopped in front of it, considering it for a moment. It wasn't her favorite place—or even in her top 10 on this ward—but it was decent enough, and he had seemed quite interested in them so she figured she might as well visit the establishment again for a revaluation of the rankings.

Walking in, a hanar by the door greeted them.

"This one welcomes you, honored customers. May the light of the Enkindlers shine upon you, as you dine in this humble establishment."

She could feel him frowning at the hanar, almost hearing his mental cogs shifting as he regarded it.

"A private table, please," Miranda requested without preamble and the hanar made a motion with its tentacle that translated into a polite nod.

"Please, follow this one to your private dining room," it answered and then began to weightlessly glide away while shifting between shades of blue, red, and purple.

To those who had never seen a hanar up close, she knew they could be somewhat overwhelming. It was a pity he was wearing his helmet; she just knew that his attempts are remaining stoic would have been fun to see.

Sitting down in a private room, she took off her own face-concealing helmet and settled down. He followed suit, frowning as he regarded the hanar and her.

"Do we have time enough for a place like this?" he finally asked and she merely smiled at him.

Sit down, she thought.

He cleared his throat, saying nothing more. She would not make such an elementary mistake as to waste time when they were in a hurry. But right now, even with everything underway they were in no hurry. There was a time for action and there was a time for rest, recuperation, refreshments, and for familiarizing yourself. They would not have time to sit down and eat for a while after this, even should everything go according to plan, thus this was the optimal moment for laying a few seeds.

She was also not here, which only made it all the better.

Looking up at the hanar server, she smiled. "I'll take the Enkindled course 4, with a light appetizer and a glass of water."

Turning to look at Emil she smiled at him expectantly. He blinked, obviously not knowing what to say as he had never been to a place like this.

Turning to look up at the hanar, he cleared his throat.

"Would you recommend anything? I apologize, but I've never had a chance to try hanar cuisine before."

That only made the server glow brighter, as it seemed to puff up in excitement.

"This one is overwhelmed with the opportunity to present to the honored customers the Enkindler's greatest fares. Since the dawn of our civilization, these recipes have been passed down from generation to generation, all the way from the time of the Enkindler's era itself!" The hanar spoke excitedly and Emil blinked, staring at the server.

"Uh... then, I'll have whatever you would recommend," he said repeating himself and glancing at her for help. But she merely smiled at him, raising an eyebrow. "As long as it takes about as long to prepare as my companion's meal. Thank you."

"Very well, this one shall endeavor to pass on the Enkindler's light with the food that shall be presented to the honored customers," it answered glowingly and then smoothly and soundlessly disappeared.

Emil's eyes followed the thing and she couldn't help it, giggling lightly at his behavior. His eyes shot to her, blinking as he tried to understand what was so funny.

"Sorry - It is not often I see anyone so fascinated with the hanar. Usually, most people view them with nothing but disdain and annoyance." Especially in their organization.

He blinked.

"They seem... nice enough?"

She huffed at that and they fell into a silence. Some minutes later their fare arrived. She thanked the hanar as he set the plate of various kinds of seafood before her, quite reminiscent of Japanese cuisine in presentation. It was called the course 4, for it was the least akin to how the Enkindlers usually preferred their food prepared out of the four main dishes they served here.

Miranda smiled, looking at Emil who seemed to be looking down at the plate he had been presented. From the looks of it, he had been given the course 1 meal.

She had described the hanar as being harmless, but they were rather well known for various strange quirks.

For one, when they spoke of the Enkindler's cuisine, it usually meant sea creatures from the oceans of their homeworld, Kahje. That by itself was not usual. Most if not all alien races who lived on planets with oceans had some form of seafood, and those who did not, ate the fare that other races could prepare often enough, chiralities allowing. The asari, for example, were well known for their seafood across the galaxy.

But the asari-made seafood was quite conventional—even by human standards—compared to how the hanar liked theirs prepared. Or not prepared, as it was.

Emil blinked, as the sea creature on his plate moved.

Its fins and tentacles desperately, if sluggishly, twitching about.

What made the hanar so famous when it came to their cultural face, was that they quite often prepared the sea creatures for consumption while they were still alive, taking great care to not kill the ingredients despite the intricate cooking methods they employed. She had grown up with foie gras, lobsters boiled alive, moon bunny and veal, and other torturous delicacies however banned they might have nominally been, but even she had some trouble with live dining like this.

He poked at the cut-open creature, still barely alive and struggling.

It looked like a tentacled fish, gutted open, its innards removed and filled with an edible jam-like paste made out of plants that grew in parts of their southern ocean world.

It was apparently a hanar delicacy as supposedly the desperate struggle for life from the creatures added a richness to the taste that could not be found anywhere else. Some questioned as to what kind of beings the hanar's gods were if they had apparently had a taste for such unique cuisine.

The hanar had on many occasions boycotted anyone who had spoken ill of their traditions, stating that it was as much a religious practice as it was a cultural one, hence it was still a contentious and sensitive topic in political and cultural discussions.

"Well... Thanks for the meal," he said, nodding at the hanar still waiting by the side.

He tentatively poked the creature with his utensils, his hesitation obvious until finally—sighing—he speared it through and then peeled off a strip of its meat and soft skin with his utensils. It had been boiled, without killing the creature, thus the flesh was soft and easily torn free. Without waiting, he put the piece in his mouth and began to chew.

She shook her head lightly and began to eat as well, her fare thankfully still and lifeless.

"This one shall retire from the table. If the honored customers have any need of this one, the call button by the table will notify this one immediately of your distress. This one wishes the honored customers a pleasant meal." The hanar bowed and left.

She looked up, swallowing the nigiri-like piece of seafood, and smiled as she looked at him trying to figure out what he was supposed to be eating of the thing on his plate.

I should do this more often.

;

I guess the hanar are more alike the tentacled horrors than I first thought. Could there be some connection?

Emiya pondered as he followed after Miranda, thinking back to the tentacled servant-children of a certain ancient distorted god. The hanar lacked teeth and claws from what he could see and the horrors he had faced lacked any form of bioluminescence, yet he still felt there could be some kind of connection there.

Shaking his head, he dismissed that line of thought as idle speculation.

The food had been unusual, but it wasn't like he hadn't prepared ikizukuri himself once before or seen other live foods.

He had eaten Yin-Yang fish in China once, where an entire carp was roasted and kept alive as it was presented for consumption. Usually, its heart would still be beating and it would still be trying to breathe. Then there were also drunken shrimp and dancing shrimp, which were considerably cruel delicacies as well.

None of this was his usual fare and he had some hesitations about preparing it, but he couldn't deny that it was good. In more than just taste, too.

The live creature had given him sustenance that dead food simply could not, replenishing his reserves of magical energy just the tiniest bit. With his body on ice unable to keep his reserves topped off, any little bit he could scrounge up was worth its weight in gold right now.

Perhaps he could find some oysters or mussels to bring up the variety? Those could be consumed alive, too, though their level of intelligence left something to be desired, thus they would do little to replenish his strength. Not that he could eat his weight in live fish every day, so it wasn't a serious alternative by any means.

A drop in the bucket did nothing to repair a hole in the bottom.

Emiya continued following Miranda, having returned to his earlier position at her flank.

He wondered perhaps if they should have taken some kind of automated vehicle to travel with, but since she kept looking at her omnitool and glancing at various camera-like objects on the street corners, perhaps remaining on foot was necessary for them to avoid detection or creating unnecessary trails.

Well, it gives me a chance to look around.

The streets of Zakera Ward were rather strange.

With how tightly packed everything was, it reminded him of luxury cruise liners somehow, or perhaps to the insides of Las Vegas' casino complexes more than any actual city he had visited before. Apartments and public spaces were sprawled around, everywhere, while overhead and to either side hung great glowing signs and advertisements, like cyberpunk vistas only seen in fiction before.

There were people everywhere, and not just humans, as aliens of all kinds of different shapes and sizes walked around paying him no heed. It was growing more than a little claustrophobic, even for him, as he had to take point to muscle his way through the crowd for Miranda.

Fuyuki hadn't been a small city, but he had grown up on the Miyama side, where it had been rather calm and docile in comparison to the hustle and bustle of Shinto's then-modern city life. He had never more than visited any of Japan's larger cities either, but those rarely pressed in from all sides the way it seemed to here.

London had been a large city too, but he hadn't stayed there for long and the magical circles were oftentimes rather sparse in comparison to the city itself; the residents there about as closeted and private as could be expected from their kind. He had visited many large cities after that, rarely staying anywhere long, and it was always a surprise to him just how tightly packed desperate people could live.

But even then, usually, there was at least room to walk along the streams of people, while here even in the flow and throng, at popular spots it was as if trying to walk through an elevator or a train car during rush hour.

Aliens of all kinds seemed to be walking around, though mostly he saw humans, the short creatures he was fairly certain were called 'volus' and the quadrupedal 'elcor' up and about. He also saw a pair of raptor-like aliens walking around in uniform, their entire being screaming 'law enforcement' to Emiya, which he figured made them the 'turians' he had been hearing so much about in the Navy.

Though they all seemed very different on the surface, somehow there was a prevailing sense of familiarity about them. The sense that everyone obeyed a similar view of how things could be, sharing that subconscious spark that allowed norms to be shared. Though the different strides lengths and rhythms caused congestion in foot traffic, there still prevailed a unanimous logic for where and how to walk, much like he could expect in fully human cities.

Emiya wasn't sure if that was merely a feature of the Citadel, if all galactic civilizations were that alike, or if humanity had been influenced enough that they too shared in this logos now. He certainly hadn't noticed anything unusual in how the humans here behaved, either back in the local cluster around Earth, or here on the Citadel.

They entered what looked like a nightclub, though given that it was actually brighter inside despite the dim setting and flashing colorful disco-lights, thus he wasn't sure what to call it exactly. Heavy electronic music pounded, so loud that the floor vibrated and thrummed in sync with it, even though just outside the doorway he had not heard a thing.

Good isolation, excellent craftsmanship.

Emiya distantly wondered who handled the maintenance and building on a space station like this, as the bar and layered dancefloor with built-in lights could not have come pre-installed.

It probably was not a central authority, given how massive and complex it all was. Assuming permits were necessary to build or alter the structure, then unless every part of every Ward was constantly monitored, he did not see how it would be possible to keep any check on what was going on.

He continued following after Miranda as she made a beeline through the dance floor, making for a door by the far side of the club.

There a turian with dark shades was leaning against the wall. It raised a hand with three sharp and wickedly curved talons, motioning them to stop in what Emiya presumed was the universal sign for 'stop'; another point of note to go with the earlier similarities he had observed.

"No entry," it said, its metallic voice flanging strangely.

Additionally, the slight lag between the actual speech and the omnitool's translation, which most people would not be able to hear, made the voice sound doubly strange due to the noise-canceling feature of the translator the original words remaining unheard. Like a poorly-timed dubbing of a film.

Miranda flashed something to the turian, who blinked before leaning back with the mandibles on his face flaring outwards. Somehow, it reminded him of someone clenching their jaw but holding back from letting it show too much and failing.

These aliens are surprisingly easy to read, Emiya thought, finding it peculiar that the gestures seemed to translate and click in his head instantly.

Even among humans, there was a multitude of meanings that could be ascribed to even the simplest of gestures. And certainly, most of the alien's body language was closed off and unreadable to him, but the apparently instinctual annoyance was still been clearly recognizable despite the alien having no reason to make himself understood. It hadn't been a threat or a conscious effort.

Was it something related to the function of the jaws? An instinctual reaction to bite down on something or someone? Humans had an instinctual reaction to smile when happy, but other animals often found the expression threatening, since it was an act of baring teeth, so there wasn't any clear-cut rule for such expressions translating so easily.

Maybe he would have to look into it more in the future.

The turian stepped aside, running his talon over his glowing omnitool to open the locked door. They were let in and instantly the music disappeared as the door behind them was closed. Walking down the corridor they appeared a neat and tidy office reception area, complete with a receptionist sitting by a desk at the end, near other doors.

Emiya blinked, raising an eyebrow at what for all intents and purposes seemed to be a blue-skinned human woman with strange hair. He took in the lack of ears and eyebrows, the strange tentacle-like 'hair', and the smooth scales of her skin. They were so small and fine that they looked almost like human skin at a glance.

The receptionist looked up, smiling at them. He blinked again at how naturally the human gesture seemed to come to the obviously inhuman alien.

It was unnerving, punctuating again his earlier observations.

"Welcome. Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her voice just as melodic and feminine as he had expected it to be.

"No, but I have a standing invitation," Miranda answered coolly, staring down at the alien woman.

"Very good, miss. I shall inform him," the blue woman replied, her smile unphased.

Miranda turned around, looking at Emiya and nodding at him to take a seat.

"Wait here. Don't talk to the asari too much - she'll eat you up and leave nothing behind," she said with a teasing smirk.

Emiya shrugged, hardly accepting the words at face value. She walked off, making for the door ahead with her high heels making clicking sounds against the white marble-like stone floor. His eyes followed her all the way until the door closed behind her.

Turning his gaze back to the receptionist, he inhaled slowly.

The asari. One of the three Council races - the first and oldest.

She smiled up at him, obviously preening at his attention and inviting him to make conversation. He wasn't sure what to think of her, however, the rather obvious and human-like features so at odds with the otherwise ethereal and regal bearing, somehow.

"Are you certain that you do not wish to sit down?" she asked when he said nothing, a teasing smile on her face. "Who knows, I just might gobble you up if you stay so near to me, little human..."

He frowned. This level of social interaction... I don't think it should be possible through something like a translator. It shouldn't affect body language either.

Looking her over, he noted how she would not have been out of place anywhere on Earth, her outstanding alien features aside. Her body language was picture perfect in its femininity, something that seemed strange to him no matter how he thought about it when moments before the turian had been nowhere near so legible.

And the contents of the communication...

She's teasing me, not just with words but the small gestures, as well. Like she's deeply aware of humans. Not just the surface-level behavior, but the unspoken deep culture.

"You're very human-like," he stated bluntly, crossing his arms and staring down at her. Not expressing aggression or hostility, but closing off his body language nonetheless to see how she would react.

She smiled, leaning forward and putting her hands on the table, interlacing the fingers primly. Her body language open and attentive, matching her casual confidence perfectly as if she was making chase to a skittish creature.

"Oh? Are you certain that it is not you who is very asari-like?"

He exhaled slowly, considering the deeper implications of her teasing words.

It was flirty - as if she was testing him. Trying to make him push her in what seemed like a strange facsimile of human courting behavior. If she was somehow reading off of him and reflecting the behavior, then he would have expected his change to disrupt the effect, at least a little.

Some sort of innate seductive ability? A succubi-like race, capable of reflecting subconscious thoughts? Or am I missing something?

Emiya exhaled then, focusing on cycling his magical energy inside his body and attempting to detect if anything was amiss. Detecting nothing wrong with himself and seeing no change in the asari, he frowned.

Focus on the human-like features that shouldn't be affected by anything, prod that.

"You have five fingers. That's pretty rare, isn't it?"

"Indeed. How very nice to no longer be alone in the galaxy with ten fingers and toes," she replied airily. "I must admit, humanity joining the galactic scene has overall been quite pleasant."

Emiya tilted his head again. "Oh?"

"For all the racket and fuss your kind kick up wherever you go, the fact that our physiologies match so wonderfully has brought a new life to asari fashion. I've not experienced one like it in a very long time. It's so refreshing; every day, wonderful new designs. The things your people come up with, so scandalous. I love it."

"Ah, right," he replied, observing her business skirt and ignoring the last bit.

If human clothing fit so well, then it went beyond mere outward appearance. From what he could see, she did appear to bend and move in the same way as humans did, the muscles and bones aligning extremely similarly.

She noticed his roving eyes. "Tell me, are you familiar with 'lingerie'?" the final word pronounced with a peculiar accent, somehow maintained through the translation, "I've just bought some, and I could use an... expert opinion on their fit..." she said with a teasing lilt, resting her jaw on her crossed fingers and staring up at him with upturned, smoldering eyes.

This somehow feels like I'm trying to match an expert while still flailing about with the basics.

"Thanks, but I'm on the clock."

He excused himself, shaking his head and walking away to sit down by the lounge area. He could feel her amusement at his apparent backing down even without looking at her, but he had no desire to be 'gobbled up' today. Rather, he was beginning to wonder if these aliens were as alien as he had first assumed.

The Protheans conducted some sort of experiments on early humans. Could they have taken out, or introduced something new into other genomes as well? He wanted to deny the possibility, but given everything else he had already knew of them, he couldn't dismiss it out of hand.

Emiya sighed. Just another question for the pile.

;

Emiya tugged at his waist, pulling down at the suit as he rolled his shoulders.

Light linen fabric, single-button closure, one besom chest pocket and five interior pockets, four-button cuffs, and side vents. He glanced at the tag that had come with the package the suit had come in, as there were no tags attached to the suit itself.

'Giuli Vorn' - a completely unfamiliar name.

But that was to be expected, given he was more than a hundred years behind on his knowledge of fashion.

It wasn't quite what he had expected. The fabric and cut were exquisite as if he wasn't wearing anything at all. It breathed but kept him perfectly comfortable and warm. Even bringing his elbows together at chest height caused no tightness at the back, a problem he commonly had due to his physical conditioning, the cause for more than one ripped shirt and jacket before.

For all their place as status symbols and garments of excess, good suits were nothing if not comfortable.

This was the kind of clothing one could wear for thirty hours straight before going for a run, hop into bed and sleep through the night in and then feel as if nothing was out of place when you woke up, the way good suits had been in his time, as well. It was only his first bespoke suit in this era but it counted as another new experience, he realized while rolling his shoulders.

"It must have been expensive," he noted.

Miranda merely smirked, tapping away at her omnitool.

After lunch they had walked around for several hours, going through various locations and talking to several people before coming here. He was always left behind when she went to speak with someone, and hampered by the limitations of his disguise and watchful eyes around him, had not been able to sneak in to listen.

So his progress on project 'gateway' was still nonexistent, aside from a variety of locations he could investigate later once he ditched Cerberus and had more freedom to move around again. But he would have to be quick about it. If he revealed himself carelessly, all of the places he had visited might close shop and leave him back at nothing.

At least he had begun to figure out how to fix his brain problem, which was something.

Or at least, found a lead as to how to find someone capable of fixing him. Coincidentally, it was closely related to Synthetic Insights, thus he was more than happy to keep going with this facade, despite the immediate need of getting to the Citadel having been fulfilled, now that his body had arrived with the freighter some half-hour earlier.

He was already looking for a chance to slip away again and repeat his 'reset'.

But that could wait a little while longer, as they were about to have their final planning stage in regards to the Synthetic Insights ball, which he was growing increasingly excited about attending. Additionally, he did not know what kind of timetable his trail of crumbs would be creating, thus he had to keep a wary eye open for when he should make his exit.

He doubted it would be more than a few days, at most.

To conclude their tour, Miranda had led them to an empty apartment up near the Presidium access on Zakera Ward's upper half where a package had arrived fifteen minutes earlier. It had contained their disguises, as it were.

Emiya had found it slightly amusing how bespoke suits now came by mail order but said nothing lest he show his age.

It was a dark plum, bordering almost on black depending on how the light hit the fabric, with white highlights and fine patterns sewed in by the collar, shoulders, and sleeves. The design was quite far removed from the tuxedos and blazers of his time and was closer to a gakuran-style boy's school uniform in his frame of reference for fashion, though he doubted those trends had survived into this time as anything other than anachronisms.

Overall while it was rather light and lacking in protective value, he definitely found it a fine piece of clothing. Pity he wouldn't get to keep it, since he would be disappearing after the party, more or less.

There was a knock by the door bringing him out of those thoughts, and he went to open it.

Dianne smiled at him, her eyes taking him in and evaluating him from toes to tip.

"Looking good, there."

Entering without waiting to be welcomed in, she sashayed past him, her hips brushing past his thigh lightly.

"You're back. Good," Miranda noted. "You can make your report, after which I will share my own findings and the final plan."

Closing the door, Emiya moved to sit down as Dianne jumped onto a table, her feet hanging freely off the ground.

"Well, most of what you already knew was still true. Synthetic Insights has however hired some additional security this year, taking the situation more seriously than they are willing to admit to the public," Dianne began.

"Will it be a problem?"

Dianne shook her head, smiling wryly. "As if. Both of your identities are now a matter of public record, with well-established and respectable achievements to back your invitations. The records on all ends for those have been modified as well, so here you go."

Pulling out a pair of blue envelopes, she handed them to Miranda.

Emiya eyed them, noting that they were laminated and pressed eezo of some kind. Not enough to be worth anything industrially, but still of considerable monetary worth. He also realized that he had been watching the wrong end; it had been Dianne who had handled the entirety of the 'gateways' application here.

"Excellent. How about your own infiltration once the party is underway?"

Dianne smirked. "No problem. One of the catering staff has come down with a sudden illness and it just so happens that my name has come up as the replacement. In fact, I will have to be there in half an hour to prepare for everything."

Miranda nodded.

"Is that all?"

Dianne shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Well done. Then, I'll lay out the results of my findings," Miranda said, pulling out a display from her omnitool. "In consulting various information brokers and sources here, I've narrowed down the list of possible interested parties attending the ball. I'll forward the files to your omnitool - once you are on the inside, keep an eye on them. If any of them act suspiciously, I want to know immediately."

"Got it." Dianne nodded.

"Additionally, I believe I have managed to root out what the item for sale will be," Miranda continued, smirking as she pulled out a picture. It showed a ruined base of some kind. "This is a former research facility of the Alliance, known as Sidon Base."

Dianne blinked, before turning thoughtful. Miranda did not say any more, letting the other woman work her way through her thoughts in peace.

"It's something related to Artificial Intelligence, then?"

Miranda nodded.

"Most likely. My theory is that the Alliance has continued its research into AI again, possibly using the data that remains from the Sidon attempt."

Emiya looked between the two, not quite following as his eyes moved from one to the other.

"And assuming the Citadel Council does not know, this would blow up magnificently in the Alliance's face if it were to be revealed." Dianne sighed. "Well, that certainly makes this tougher to deal with."

"Were it a physical component or even a piece of software code, it would be much easier to handle," Miranda agreed.

He roughly understood, then.

"But information such as 'the Alliance is performing unsanctioned experiments using data from a previous failed attempt' will be much more difficult to contain." Emiya nodded, understanding vaguely what they were talking about now. "Which means taking out the seller is off the table - the risk of dead man's switch is too high."

"Indeed," Miranda said, before frowning and raising a hand to her chin. "But simply saying so would not be enough: the thief would have to have some kind of data to prove it, wouldn't he?"

"Yes. But since the Alliance is here, it is reasonable to assume that something like that was leaked to them already. It's not like we can simply pack up and go home now saying something as halfhearted as 'well, we thought he didn't have any proof'," Dianne playfully mocked while shrugging.

"How serious would this information be, if it was made public?" Emiya asked.

"Well the last time, after the catastrophic end of Sidon and everything that followed..." Miranda began, looking at Emiya and noticing that he did not seem to know what she was talking about. She frowned, staring at him. "This should be a matter of public knowledge of interstellar politics, Emil. Don't tell me you really don't know?"

He shrugged and he could feel her opinion on him lowering considerably.

"Well, it's already pretty old news, right?" Dianne jumped to his defense, smiling at him like a protective sister. "But, considering the sanctions the Council placed on humanity the last time, I don't think it will end well this time."

"Right. Ambassador Udina is no slouch, but he is too new. He doesn't have the experience to take Council head-on. Anita Goyle performed admirably, considering the situation after Sidon and Camala, but humanity's position is still too tenuous to risk this being exposed," Miranda agreed.

Dianne huffed in amusement, nodding. "I still get warm feelings from watching Ambassador Goyle take on the entire Council, threatening them and then coming out on top even everything the Council tried to throw at her. If she hadn't managed to push back the Council, humanity would not be anywhere near where it is today."

Miranda nodded, not commenting further.

Emiya blinked, utterly out of his depth here and carefully keeping it from showing. He hadn't exactly been reading up on the politics or history of interspecies relations until now.

"How about the culprit? Found anything that could hint at his identity?" Emiya asked, steering them away from these dangerous waters before he outed himself.

Miranda shook her head.

"Jump Zero isn't as active as it once was, but it remains a busy station. Thousands of Alliance personnel operate there, coming and going. I have a rough profile for what kind of person the thief could be based on their dealings with the attendees, but it remains useless until we have actual solid leads."

"So the plan goes on as before." Emiya nodded, noting more to himself than to either of them. The only change is that I'll need to get my hands on Dianne's omnitool before I leave.

"Indeed. But for now, I believe you must be going, no?" Miranda said to Dianne, who shrugged.

"I guess I do." She laughed, hopping down and with a twirl and bow made to leave.

"And now it's time we got ourselves ready as well," Miranda said, getting up and smiling at him as the outer door closed. She sashayed her hips, suddenly mimicking Dianne for some reason in her body language. "We'll have to shower and wash up first, won't we?"

Emiya nodded absently.

"I'll let you go first," he said, mindful that he could use that opening to reset his Independent Action, as the gap in surveillance would allow him to re-apply his disguise without raising too much attention.

She frowned, eyes narrowing at him. Sighing, she turned to walk away.

"You go ahead, I'll finish up on some work first."

Emiya blinked, not quite understanding the sudden sullen tone in her voice, shrugging it away as being inconsequential. He had more important things to worry about right now, like getting a few finishing touches laid on the suit without her noticing.

;

Miranda scowled, carving her face into something resembling an imperious visage of disdain, rather than one born of mere human annoyance.

She did not get annoyed. Not about these petty things. She was the very picture of professionalism; efficient, reliable, and exacting. What she had been born, bred, and raised to be and what she had exemplified her whole life. No matter what she had to do she never failed.

Which was why she had left in the first place.

The knot in her stomach tightened further, thoughts turning gloom.

Her... father had always expected more. No matter what she did, no matter what she could accomplish, no matter the standard she was measuring against, it was never enough. Always more. Always better. When she had been younger, it had driven her onward, seeing still how much further she still could go when comparing herself to the adults around her. She had been a foolish girl, back then. As long as I keep going and do my best, surely it will be enough someday, she had thought.

But then she had found out that she hadn't been the first of her kind.

She wasn't merely made to be the best, she had been created pushing the envelope, ignoring the laws and rationalizations of her father's lessers - she was pushed beyond being a mere human. Her genetic base, upbringing, neural enhancements, diet, daily rhythms, chemical balance, education, and habits were all from the cutting edge of science!

They were all tailor-made to be perfect.

Just like all the others before her had been.

Because science marches on heedless. Ruthlessly cutting down all that had come before, regardless of how far it might have grown and bloomed already, replacing it. The daughter before her had been three years old when she had been scrapped, the discovery of some improvement in prenatal epigenetics that affected compatibility with biotics and amp performance.

Perfection is only temporary - an illusion born of imperfection.

Just like the one to come after her. She wasn't the first, nor was she to be the last, she had discovered. One slip-up, however subjective or inconsequential—one discovery completely beyond her control—and that would be it. The end for her. So she had taken her 'sister' and left.

It wasn't that she was angry or afraid, or that she had perhaps realized, that she had not been good enough if her father had thought to create yet another.

No, definitely not.

No, it was him who was lacking. He did not know what he wanted. It was his imperfections that were at fault. If only he was half as good as she was and could recognize true worth (a quality even she couldn't quite define but felt she had to stake her whole existence on regardless now that she had rejected his vision,) when it was right in his face... So she had left and found somewhere else, where she could rise to her true potential without that false Sword of Damocles hanging over her head.

She hadn't known what to do at first about her sister, but she decided that perhaps she could give her the childhood she herself never had. She had looked up everything, planning out a life meticulously: what kind of family would she be in, their psychological profile, comparing statistics and trends, using her genetic base and her own growth records to profile out a chart for comparison.

She did everything in her power to give Oriana a perfect life.

Miranda was superior to her father in all regards, so this was her parting victory. To render him moot the way he had threatened her.

And when a dark part of her roused to whisper, that she was only ensuring that her dear sister would never be her equal this way, she violently squashed such thoughts, telling herself that she was not jealous or afraid. Her and Oriana's genetic base was the same. They were completely the same - in every regard and facet that she could discern. Surely, they would have turned out the same, ending up at the same disillusionment at their failed progenitor.

She was protecting her sister.

He was wrong, and a fool. Just like this man - blind to what was before him. Like all the others; blind, servile, mute, barely comprehending the reality they were brushing up against. Just another who would be discarded along her ascendance to the top of Cerberus' hierarchy.

Miranda brought her attention back to the present, giving one last sideways glance to Emil - one last parting salute for if things went awry. She had the premonition that he would not be returning with her. A shame.

They walked down the red carpet—a recent inclusion to the event and nod to humanity's growing share in the company—their vehicle already leaving to let another arrive to replace it. Ahead, the Synthetic Insights' personnel were welcoming all the guests while surreptitiously checking their invites.

The eezo laminated in the invites of the paper created a unique print, something which could not be easily forged. One batch was always one of a kind, the tree that had grown it and the traditional asari method of pressing it always creating something different every time. Even with all of Citadel's resources, she doubted it would be possible to create a passable copy.

Two was outright impossible, thus the advantage of walking in with him using the acquired invitations.

They were both scanned, passing and subsequently becoming invisible to the security. She felt a thrill of success at that: at least something was working right tonight, involuntarily glancing at her date again.

He was tall and broad she noted again, just as she had noticed before when he had muscled a way through the crowds. Yet not too bulky or lumbering, as many of the genetically enhanced soldiers she had seen were, in their quest for manhandling ever heavier hardsuits. He was taught muscle and sinuous grace, walking soundlessly even on the hard-heeled dress shoes she had purchased for him.

Her arm entwined in his felt nice she thought, before squashing the observation. He was just like—he was unworthy of her. If they did not know what they wanted, then it was no matter of hers, as she could always find something better, just as she had before.

"You look beautiful."

She blinked, looking up at him. Their eyes met and somehow she felt as if the brown of his eyes wasn't quite right—shining with a predatory pleasure—as she felt her hot blood flushing her cheeks.

"What?"

"That's even better." He smirked, unbalancing her further. "As I thought, a smile really brings out your best, Miranda."

For an instant, the world vanished around her.

Then it all returned as she blinked at his confident drawl. They were pretending to be a married couple, she realized belatedly. She cleared her throat, looking away, trying to call up that frown once more but finding herself unable to. Beside her, she could feel him smirking. Khh... Was he always like this?

She glanced at him.

They made quite a pair, she knew; her own slinky dark cocktail dress matching him just as well as her arm seemed to fit his. He had come in unarmed—naked, without his usual tools, she would have thought until this moment—having originally planned to bring him along the whole way, now she wasn't sure what to do with him beyond a sacrificial pawn to cast aside in case she needed to escape, even as the flutters seemed only to grow at his proximity and newfound persona.

Because something about him had changed, again. They had only been working for two days, but she thought she had grasped a handle on his personality. This wasn't what she would expect of him, it almost reminded her of... The way he was when I first saw him?

She shook her head, dark curls gently tickling her shoulders. It wasn't the time for this. She had to focus on the mission.

The doorman ahead of them—a salarian wearing fine garbs—greeted them and scanned them quickly and surreptitiously again before welcoming them in.

Beside her, Emil strode through the door with confidence and grace. He looked good in the suit, but now that he was wearing it among others it seemed to highlight all the differences between him and another man, on whose appeal she had based the suit on. They shared the same confidence, charisma, and poise she had thought, even as Emil had lacked the grand vision that had drawn her to truly joining Cerberus.

Yet somehow there was a sharp intent behind Emil's eyes now that broke the similarity the moment she locked eyes with him, replacing it with all of his own.

Amber—not blue—she was reminded.

Older somehow, despite being clearly younger; languid, but not relaxed—wiry and tense somehow—like a strung, straining bow. There was something more about this man, even if she couldn't name it. Something that made her skin tingle against his and her head swim as he led her forward.

They entered the ballroom, a wide hall easily over a hundred meters long and beautifully decorated. Ostentatious, but still within the realm of taste. Awe-inspiring, yet not overbearing. It spoke of money and influence, more than annual income reports and the lists of their holdings ever could.

Most of the guests had already arrived, the room filled with people of nearly all the galactic races. There were tables with drinks and more to two of the sides, clearly marked by the turian and salarian servers as to what kind of fare was being offered.

She looked around, slowly taking in everything and shedding her apprehensions and wonder for now.

This would not be an easy evening, she predicted. Though this was the large ballroom, there were dozens of other, smaller rooms as well. In this sea of guests, anyone could be the seller and everyone could be an interested party out to interfere.

Looking up, she could see the salarian and turian security personnel staring down at the guests. They were wearing fine clothes as well, but it was obvious they were armed and wearing comms. Synthetic Insights was not taking this lying down, then.

They walked up to the table flanked by a pair of salarians in serving uniforms. Looking down at the platters of food and drinks, she appeared to consider what to try as her eyes continued to roam the vista. Her hands brushed one of the platters and as expected she found the comm-piece there, just beneath the side. They had been scanned when they entered, necessitating some clever workarounds, but Dianne was capable enough to circumvent that.

Taking a drink each, they walked back into the crowd and she plugged the comm-piece in her ear with a motion that looked just like her brushing back her hair, inhaling slowly as it turned on.

"Well then, let us get this party started, shall we?" Dianne's quiet voice greeted her and Miranda smiled, raising her drink to her mouth to hide her lips moving.

"Let's."

"The first person of interest is to your left: the Asian man wearing a white suit, talking with the two salarians."

"I see him," she answered and began to walk that way, Emil following her lead quietly.

The man ahead had short dark hair, quite plain and unremarkable by most standards. She assumed this was as much a cultivated image as something he had been born with, given his affiliation with the Alliance Intelligence Agency.

She waited for a lull in the conversation, before walking forward into the triangle the three formed.

"Mister Rumo; just the man I was looking for. I hear that the Alliance is looking for some hardware to enhance their gene mod packages. But have you truly considered all of your alternatives, hmm?"

It was pushy - practically overbearingly so. But it got his attention.

The man glanced at her, his eyes looking her over before quickly glancing at Emil as well.

"I hadn't expected word to have gone out already. At this time, we are only still testing the waters here, so to speak," he replied, smiling politely.

The two salarians looked at her, curiosity apparent as the trio turned to face her in the newly formed ring.

"Oh my, where are my manners." She feigned embarrassment. "Miranda Durana. This is my husband, Emil. Of Durana Electronics - I'm sure you've heard of us and will continue to do so..."

"Heh, hear that? Not even the biggest fish is safe from competitors, eh?" the Alliance agent said, smirking at the nearest salarian.

"Yes. Competition, good. Keeps those at the top sharp and ready. Would not deny a customer the opportunity to compare. Always willing to prove, why best in business." The salarian replied quickly, inclining his head at Miranda.

She smirked. "Oh my, you might find that we will be more than able to make use of such an opportunity. I hope you do not come to regret your confidence later on."

The man she had hoped to approach grinned, extending a hand to her. "Well then, I'm curious to hear what you have to say, missus Durana. Oh, you can call me Abe."

"Please, Miranda is fine." She nodded at the Asian man, pulling out the facts she had prepared for her sales pitch. It was important to lay the groundwork, before she began to fish for information, after all.

She glanced at Emil, noting that he was quietly standing by her side and watching.

That was fine. She could deal with him later.

;

Emiya blinked, noticing that he was being wholly ignored.

Is this what being a trophy husband feels like?

He glanced at the two salarians who were raptly paying attention to Miranda as she spoke to the Alliance agent. One had reddish-brown skin while the other was a shade closer to green. They looked like thin upright frogs, strangely enough. But the intelligence behind those eyes was obvious and piercing, even when it wasn't aimed at him.

They bore being careful around.

Glancing at Abe, he noted the obvious Japanese ancestry on the man's face. It contrasted his less-than-normal name, but he had come to expect as much already. Emiya's own cover names were a similar blend of clashing cultures as well.

"Durana Electronics, eh?" One of the two salarians spoke up, catching Emiya's attention while Miranda continued speaking to Abe.

"Yes. You're of Synthetic Insights, then?" he answered, smiling lightly at the salarian. He wasn't sure about body language so he kept from showing teeth with the gesture.

"Something like that, Guuran Heffai, Director of Personnel. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." The salarian introduced himself, bowing slightly to Emiya. "I hear you have been making quite well for yourselves, lately. In this morning's reports, you were up sixteen points. Quite remarkable."

"We try." Emiya nodded. "Still, we are a long way off from being able to host something like this. For all my wife's ambition, I've no problems admitting my admiration of how well you've done for yourselves."

Guuran made something that could have been a pleased smile, his large black eyes disappearing for a moment from sight as he rolled them.

Emiya paused mentally at the incomprehensible body language but forged on without outward hesitation. This was a good chance, after all.

"If I could be so bold, could I perhaps discuss the particulars of a certain line of products you have? We've no plans at this time to expand our market beyond a memory graybox—fear not," Emiya continued, throwing a slight jest in as he spoke, "—but I find the architecture of your cybernetics quite interesting, overall."

Heffai nodded.

Affecting human mannerisms for my benefit. I must not have reacted appropriately to something that went unsaid just now, Emiya concluded, affecting a small relieved smile.

"Yes. It has been something of a contentious subject with the rest of the Citadel races, but among the salarians, the benefits have always been obvious and desirable."

Emiya nodded. "Indeed. Among humanity, there is a long history both for and against it, but I feel someone must always be willing to push the boundaries lest stagnation settle in."

Guuran nodded, turning to his companion who had been paying silent attention to both discussions while remaining quiet. "How about it, Doctor Solus? Feel like talking about your favorite subject with our friend here?"

"Cybernetics hardly sole area of interest. Merely, one where most well known," The reddish-brown salarian replied, facing Emiya head-on. "But always willing—and ready—to discuss with those interested."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doctor Solus, I'm—"

The doctor interrupted him almost immediately. "Am aware, have gone through records recently—noted same trend as Director Heffai, Durana Electronics most unusual."

Emiya blinked, hesitating for a moment to speak as he wasn't sure whether the salarian would continue speaking, his pattern of pronunciation making it difficult to read the timing of replies. It hadn't been an actual question either, but the query still hung in the air between them.

Was Durana Electronics truly what it seemed? How deep did the cover extend, and how thoroughly had they been investigated?

"Yes, we had something of an upswing recently," Emiya began, pausing as he could sense the salarian about to continue again, getting a word in edgewise.

"Indeed. Former director died, mysterious causes, reported only this morning, yet dead for over a month. Curious." Solus spoke in that same rapid-fire pace that left little room for easy rebuttal.

Beside him, Emiya could feel Miranda subtly tensing. She hadn't read out to him the full backstory; any deep prodding might well reveal inconsistencies that could blow their cover.

"I would appreciate it if we did not stray further into this matter," Emiya said keeping the polite, yet at the same time firm, tone of voice as he stared down the salarian, shifting his body language into something more aggressive. They were both tall, but for all that Emiya was twice as wide at the shoulders.

Doctor Solus rolled his eyes, before inclining his head.

"Apologies. Did not mean to offend. My condolences, for your father's passing."

Emiya blinked, noticing the trap and making sure to feign a repressed flare of anger as he spoke civilly. "Actually, it was my mother."

"Of course. Apologies again. Understanding of human culture must be lacking, for such an error to have occurred."

Emiya nodded, inhaling slowly. Corporate espionage, huh...

"Now, was there something you wished to ask me?" she salarian continued, brushing right past the earlier discussion as if it had been of no consequence.

Eyeing the salarian doctor, Emiya considered him. Smooth and bumpy skin, large dark eyes set into a reddish-brown face. Two long, horn-like extension on the top of his head, along with several fine scars on the back and sides of his skull.

"Yes, specifically in regards to cybernetics. While we have our own line of grayboxes on the market, made custom-order, we have not had much success with more... intrusive cybernetics," Emiya said and he could feel Miranda's sudden sharp interest on him.

She had been paying attention to her discussion with Abe, but when she had noticed the two salarians interrogating him just now, she had begun to keep an ear on their conversation.

Especially since this discussion was certainly not in the plan she had laid out for him.

"Director Heffai noted, have a long history with self-modification. Though, must specify what is being modified," Solus said, the pace at which he spoke picking up as he became obviously excited by the subject. "Turian and asari, replace destroyed limbs and organs, hesitate with anything more. Salarian, replace and improve upon senses and nervous system, willing to go much further. Two very different fields, with very different considerations."

"How about the mind? The software, so to speak. We've had a lot of trouble, there."

Though Emiya's memories stemmed more from the front of spiritual hackers than anything in this galaxy.

The salarian nodded. "Yes. Very tricky. Salarian have obvious interest in subject, but less common than mere enhancements. Challenges not as straightforward, as with other cybernetics."

"I assume this is due to the issues of getting the machine and mind to work as one, rather than as two separate pieces working separately?" Emiya nodded.

The common praxis among mages seeking to maintain relevancy had been to create a familiar—a bunshin, if he recalled the name correctly—inside the computer systems if they could not accomplish their task through gross connection of the senses for improved input/output handling.

But those were separate instances of self and prone to corruption and failure.

"Exactly. Problems with implementation and interfacing. Neural pattern flash imagining longstanding technique in salarian-machine interfacing, but, little more than a hastily generated Virtual Intelligence. Act as extension—drone as humans use—connected to brain, inside specific sections. Require vast computational power... very, limited use." He sniffed, considering his next words carefully. "More of a curiosity, rather than useful tool. Recent advances in synesthesia technology in last decades, made possible to bring about breakthroughs in simulstim availability, without need for cybernetic ports. Still, not suitable for all purposes."

Emiya nodded at that again. It sounds like the spirit hacking I knew; creating an input/output system with an advanced enough computer. But it doesn't sound like they have a full dive, like I do.

"Which I assume is too complex for something like a brain enhancer. The size, power, heat and operation lag considerations would be problematic," he said, nodding along.

"Yes. As noted, rare. Parallel enhancements, working alongside wetware more common. Even then, many risks."

"How about replacing the brain, in whole or part?" Emiya asked, finally diving into the subject he had been truly interested in.

The salarian paused, obviously taken aback and hesitating by the blunt question.

"That is... exceedingly rare."

"But not unheard of?" Emiya prodded.

"Trans-salarians have existed for a long time, full conversion always existed as idea—even ideal, of sorts—but, never have heard of one. Not outside realm of possibility, but... Unlikely."

"Wouldn't finding out about such cases be rather easy? It would require a very specific set of hardware, something that would be easy enough to keep track of, I'd imagine."

"Perhaps, but rarely rely on publicly available and understood hardware, when exceeding certain thresholds of conversion. Point of pride, custom-made, to reflect self, by self," Solus elaborated.

"Ah, seeking to make an ideal real is a very personal and even private endeavor, I understand." Emiya nodded. It sounded almost like the mage's he had been familiar with.

Solus smiled then, an understanding passing between them in that moment.

"So it's impossible?" Emiya asked.

"Possible, but more practical considerations, as well. Fear of being hacked, not entirely unreasonable. Loss of 'self', as well. Stooping to buying commercial hardware, sign of incompetence. Synthetic Insights manufacture singular function hardware, to replace or enhance existing wetware, commonly. As with mister Rumoi of the Alliance, sell enhancements to memory, reaction time, sensory suites, and like. But little more. Tools for the wetware mind, rather than true replacements.

"Among enthusiasts, strive for multipurpose use. Get all out of single processor, rather than, several processors for various functions. Not limited by evolution, stacking functions upon foundations, able to build whole. In theory."

"So, so far no luck has been had with freeing the 'mind' from the 'body', then?" Emiya asked, motioning for him to continue, somewhat hanging on still.

"Not as such, no. Full conversion, exceedingly rare as noted, perhaps has never happened. No known case of full conversion on public record. Rumors, tall tales, always hear boasts, of course..." Solus smiled with an inclination of his head, then. "But no proof."

"I see." Emiya nodded, taking and comparing mental notes. "I assume it would not be an easy process, either?"

"Correct. Additional considerations, do not wish to be 'replaced by machine'. Seek to pass on... ah... 'self' properly. To make sure that the qualia—or soul, peculiar human parlance, but useful in this context—is not lost," the doctor continued and at this point, both Abe and Miranda had stopped their own discussion to listen in with rapt attention. Or perhaps confused horror. "Put in piece by piece, to replace functions. Let body accustom to hardware and hardware to adapt to the brain. Monitor changes."

That sounds almost familiar.

"So you don't actually develop any of the software, rather you place it in as a blank slate and let the brain train its new piece into working order? Like raising a child, slowly letting it learn by itself and reinforcing the results - you train a computer from the ground up, until it is indistinguishable from the original?" Emiya cut to the heart of his question, watching the salarians pause to consider his words. "The biological parts have the hardware slaved until the differences in function have become negligible, continuously forcing the hardware to adapt and learn until it 'fits in'?"

"...Not an entirely inaccurate assessment, admit. Yes, Generative Adversarial Networks and Neural Networks, very promising fields," Solus answered with a calculating glint of his own.

The other salarian now seemed more than a little surprised at the turn in the conversation. "Haha, gentlemen..."

But Emiya picked up where he had left off without letting the other salarian continue.

"So you use something like a Ship of Theseus-method to slowly replace parts, making sure that nothing is suddenly changed with the introduction of replacing hardware. Would that not make it possible to adapt the hardware for other races? It should be much simpler to let the system learn how to function with a human brain itself, than say, designing a functional human arm from a salarian base."

"Have not thought of matter, few willing to attempt, outside salarians. But, brain structure and neurological makeup of mind, very different. That much, obvious from graybox development," Solus said, eyes only wavering from Emiya for a split-second, Rumoi's way. "Run into issues with removal and insertion of hardware into brain. Memory loss, brain damage, permanent problems. Worked out such problems on salarian, not quite with humans. Regardless, very little research, limited, by Council decree to volunteers..."

The conversation was veering off and Emiya decided to plunge it in, straight at the heart, despite the less-than like-minded audience that Solus had been alluding to.

"Tell me doctor, if it isn't prying too deep... How far along have you, yourself, come?"

The salarian paused and blinked, eyes dilating slightly as a number of small muscle twitches fired across his face.

Emiya lacked the understanding of their physiology or culture to read their deeper meaning, but he guessed it was something of reflexive reaction related to hesitation, shock, or worry. Or perhaps excitement?

Experimentation on others was banned, but the self? Especially for enthusiasts? A point of pride; true realization of the self; the noble endeavor. Wasn't it?

Seeing no adverse reaction, only naked curiosity, Solus continued despite his earlier hesitation.

"...Observant. Indeed. Personally have replaced several functions, but retain over 68 percent of original brain functionality. Mere, enhancements," the doctor admitted quietly.

To Emiya it almost sounded like a boast, despite the whispered nature of the words. Guuran's fidgeting and nervousness at the topic at hand were obvious.

"I assume there are ethical considerations that prevent full conversions, as well. Notably from how the legislation regarding grayboxes is for running in parallel with the wetware, though we have marketed it as a cure for Alzheimer's. Lobby attempts to change the laws regarding the replacement of brain tissue is certain to fail, due to that."

"Oh?" The salarian made no move to agree or disagree, clearly interested in what he would say.

Emiya nodded. "After all, how do you tell the difference between the original person and the Artificial Intelligence you have replaced it with, afterward? I wonder, does your AI development license have anything to do with your general successes in the field?"

The Soul was not some arcane and unquantifiable concept in the field of magic—ironically enough—but was rather a well-defined parameter and mark for living creatures that exceeded a certain threshold of conceptual weight. All this talk of training blank slates with increasing difficulty until it achieved a level of self-awareness reminded him of more than one incident with high-level AI on the Moon Cell.

Heffai now looked distinctly uncomfortable, making several small motions towards Solus who was pointedly—almost hungrily—ignoring his companion.

"I see that I've distressed our company some - I apologize for my indiscretion. Shall we change topics?" Emiya said, inclining his head.

He had gotten plenty of good information from this discussion, that was not available anywhere else. Perhaps he should attempt some corporate espionage next, to figure out more about this subject.

"I see, was hasty to consider humanity's forays into cybernetics to be yet immature," Doctor Solus said, turning to look at Heffai. "Lack of technological prowess, not to be confused with lack of understanding or willingness."

The green salarian rolled his eyes, having calmed down in the space of seconds, considering them. "It would appear that Synthetic Insights will be facing both new markets and challenges in this field in the future. Very exciting times to come, I suspect."

Miranda took his arm, smiling up at him faux-sweetly. "Emil, darling, should we continue on now? I believe we've bothered these gentlemen long enough."

Emiya didn't actually have to be married to this woman to know she was veiling more than just a strict chastisement behind that smile right then.

"Certainly. Director Guuran, Doctor Solus, Abe. It was a pleasure to meet you all and I hope we have the chance to talk again," Emiya said, bowing.

The salarian doctor tilted his head, extending a single hand. "Indeed, most informative meeting. Hope to meet again, discuss more, in future."

Emiya grabbed it, giving it a fair shake. He wasn't sure if the gesture really existed in salarian culture, but he figured the doctor was someone who had knowledge enough of human mannerisms to bridge that gap as a show of respect.

"Come along now," Miranda said, smiling as she gripped his arm and pulled him away.

They walked, continuing all the way until they made it to the edge of the room where there were fewer people gathered and they could have some privacy. Looking around, she turned to him with annoyance clear in her eyes.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, not quite shouting.

"Hmm?"

She ground her teeth and he could feel her nails digging into his arm, even through the fabric of the suit.

"What the hell was that?" she ground out again, glaring at him.

"Just making small talk. It would be suspicious for me to be the owner of an electronics company and not have any interest in the subject, right? They were obviously wary of us."

"Yes, and now they're suspicious, especially if they know about the AI—" Miranda whispered, glancing around. There weren't any obvious eyes on them, but with surveillance systems and the sheer crowd here, it was hard to tell.

"Abe knew, obviously. But did the salarians?" Emiya cut in, throwing the deflecting curveball at her, having sort of forgot about Cerberus' mission until she had reminded him.

She blinked. "What?"

He had to suppress his grin, knowing perfectly well that she had completely forgotten about him, now, the mission's priority overtaking his indiscretions.

"I wonder, did he tell them? Are the Alliance and Synthetic Insights in this together? What do you think?"

Miranda hesitated, frowning as she looked away. "Yes. They knew," she concluded after a second. "That bastard must have told them. But doesn't he..."

He looked at her, waiting for her to finish her thoughts without saying a word. She looked up, still glaring at him. But his distraction had been superbly effective; she had already forgotten why she was angry at him, too distracted by his implications and deflection.

"Let's go through the others, first. There might be more afoot here than I had thought."

Emiya nodded and they returned to mingling. But it was obvious that she was distrustful of him now. But that was fine, everything was going to be coming to a head soon enough, anyhow.

;

He was breathing quickly, throwing the ball a third time in the past minute as he dodged to the left and swayed through the opening in the opposition line.

Another goal, bringing him the match-winning point.

Panting and wet with perspiration, he walked over to the side where he had his water. He drank greedily, looking at the time and concluding that he had exercised enough for now. He was no longer as dependent on his physical conditioning as he had been once been, but it was still vital to keep himself in shape. If only because it let him enjoy the other pleasures in life more freely.

Walking back to his bedroom, he tossed aside the wet clothes and slowly evened out his breathing. The darkness of his private bedroom greeted him, along with the soft hum of the air conditioning as he grabbed a towel and moved towards the shower room.

But he was interrupted by an alarm, coming from his terminal. It had been set to priority messages only, as while he was busy it was important to be able to maintain a steady level of performance. That required taking the time to sleep enough and to exercise sufficiently.

Reaching over, he grabbed the water next to his bed and drained the half-liter necessary to keep himself hydrated as he with the other hand moved to turn off the alarm sound on the terminal.

"What is it now..." Grumbling, he moved to get a better look.

Seeing the message, he froze. Shaking his head, he began to rapidly type away, damage control already as his primary mission. All traces of his fatigue had been blown away, though his energy levels were not optimal.

He grabbed a pair of pills, popping them in and chugging some more water. It would get him up to par in five minutes.

"How did..."

His eyes took in entire reports, breezing through messages in seconds as he built a picture of what had happened.

"Just when I take my eyes off of things, this happens." He groused.

Opening a video file, he frowned at what he saw. A heavily armed group of individuals, consisting of Alliance Intelligence forces and Lunar Police special forces were shown kicking down the various entrances of the Armstrong base, rushing in with weapons drawn and arresting everyone in sight. An outside feed showed three cruisers and a frigate flotilla right outside, keeping an eye on the docks.

A man strode in, looking around and noticing the camera that had taken the recording. A facial recognition VI noted the man as one Lieutenant Ashford of Alliance Intelligence.

"Damn it."

How had they found the base? The front company should have been able to provide a cover for all the operations there. A blinking alarm indicated a report.

One of his operatives had already done the analysis and sent in the data regarding the leak.

He found that the Alliance had tracked some unusual credit records, following the trail all the way to the Armstrong office. Starting from a recording of a skycar in his possession being fueled at Armstrong, to a number of unusual purchases and sales done in the last two days. Financial records hadn't matched, and cybercrime divisions had somehow back-traced it to the Cerberus front company.

Continuing to leaf through all the reports to get an overview of the situation, he blinked, shaking his head in disbelief. How could this have happened? Cerberus operatives were specifically trained to not make these kinds of mistakes. This had to be the work of an outsider—

Freezing, he looked at the profile sent in along with Operative Lawson's report. Broad of shoulder, strong of build. The silhouette, it seemed familiar. There was something about that defiant set of shoulders and angle of jaw, that oozed smugness, even through the picture.

"No... It couldn't be..." He pulled out the security feed from Ares Station, showing the helmeted mysterious man in black. He overlaid the images, feeling his gut clench as they matched.

It wasn't proof of anything, but the implications were there.

He looked at that profile picture; the dark hair and brown eyes, the tan skin and sharp features. That gaze. Pulling out the pictures of Serviceman Emiya that Burnsfeldt had taken, he put them side by side. There was a slight similarity, not enough to definitely link the two. But suddenly he had a very worrying realization. Pulling out the partial print from Ares Station, he compared it to the palm prints on record from the subject that had been kidnapped by Burnsfeldt.

They were very different, of course.

Even without the massive damage wrought by whatever it was, to one of the prints, by Citadel standards they would have been two different individuals. But there were similarities. Too many similarities, he thought.

The genetic base could have been very close. Close enough, that...

"Clones? They must be clones..."

Close enough, that a sudden and terrible sense of horror was beginning to envelop his mind regarding the far-off operation on the Citadel.

;

Emiya stood by the snack table, taking bites here and there as he tried everything.

He had guessed that the cuisine would be incredibly varied, given the numerous races and civilizations coming to contact with one another here on the Citadel. Just as with the hanar, the salarian and asari had their own unique fares—much of which were now on proud display—and he was more than happy to try it all out.

I could probably learn how to do them all, too.

It was another one of the amusing realizations he was having once again. After a century of ceaseless ennui, this freedom to learn and do new things never seemed to wane. He felt perpetually drunk with the possibilities before him, teetering at the sheer edge of his new freedom.

Looking over, he stared at the turian table. Technically, humans should not eat there, but he wondered. My unique existence can probably handle it. Alien food, in the truest sense of the word? Could I forgive myself for passing it up?

Miranda had gone off to the ladies' room, leaving him alone for the moment.

They had gone through countless conversations, Miranda prodding and casing out various potential sellers and buyers, but so far none of them seemed conclusive enough for the woman. He had also discussed his own agenda, questioning various experts where he could about his problem, while she was talking to other people.

In a purely theoretical, discretionary, and conversational manner, of course. Miranda had no idea what he was talking about most of the time, which seemed to be annoying her considerably.

She had told him to focus on the mission, chastising him several times and he had apologized each time, deflecting as he did it again every time he saw someone he found relevant to his needs. Not that he hadn't been paying attention to the mission they had set out to do. He guessed that the seller, whoever it was, would soon make their move and begin the auction. Though, through what methods, no one could guess so far.

Here and there, he could hear snippets of whispers and hushed conversations.

It seemed that whoever the thief was, they had managed to get everyone here excited, even if no one was quite willing to admit to such openly. Many thought it a hoax by Synthetic Insights, perhaps a prelude to a new cyber-security product they had developed, or a whitehat hacking service, perhaps.

Some jeered that even if it was all true, what could the human Systems Alliance possibly have to offer that would be of any true value? Humans were a minority here among the guests, thus he and Miranda had been receiving more than a few inquisitive glances during the evening, but so far no one had actually approached them.

He heard a gasp, turning around to look at the sound of the commotion as he tasted another of the evening's offerings.

Behind him, many were suddenly whispering loudly among themselves and pointing up at a wall. He followed their gazes, blinking as he saw the text displayed in by lights, up where everyone could see it.

'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's auction. Since as noted before, this is a silent auction, I must ask that all participants refrain from raising their voices overmuch. Below is the site-link for all of those who wish to participate. Thank you for your time and attention, I hope you all enjoy yourselves and have a fine evening.'

Below that was a symbol resembling a quick response code, a simple image that could be scanned for the extranet link contained within.

Emiya raised an eyebrow, not quite certain what to make of that. Then again, the needlessly extravagant means of sharing the information seemed to fit the profile of the seller so far. All of this, from stealing the 'item', to the venue of the auction, seemed to be a measure to get as much attention to the act as possible.

There must be something more to this, than just the auction, he mulled, setting aside his plate.

To the sides, turian security hastened to turn off the hacked lights that had been used to send the message. Before they could turn it all off, Emiya made certain to take a snapshot with his omnitool.

Around him, dozens were doing the same.

Miranda returned, obviously having noticed something going on. She looked at him with furrowed brows, silently demanding him to explain as the message had already been removed. He raised the hologram display of the omnitool, showing her the snapshot of the already removed message. She frowned, reaching out to zoom in on the symbol, copying it, and sending it to her own omnitool.

Looking up, she scanned those around them. Many were obviously discussing this new turn of events, but few among them were using their omnitools.

Clicking her tongue, she looked at him.

"Close your omnitool."

He did. She was obviously worried about being spotted in the crowd, but he didn't find the worry all too credible; it was obvious that many were leaving to do use their own with some more privacy. They were just two slightly more suspicious people in the crowd of suspicious people.

"Anything on your end?" Miranda asked, not looking at him.

If Emiya strained, he could just hear the sound coming out from the earpiece.

"Security is up in a tizzy. No one knows how it was done, so far. They're trying to keep it contained, but, wait..."

Miranda frowned, turning to look at him while Dianne was busy.

"Did you see anything?"

He shrugged. "Wasn't anywhere near it."

She glared at him before sighing and looking away. She was obviously growing impatient. "Well, anything on record?"

"They're running the tapes now, not seeing anything. The lights could have been tampered with since who knows when, anyhow. They're suggesting that the message was probably implanted before the announcement of the auction, before security ramped up."

"Or it could have even been before the theft, depending on how well it was all planned out." Miranda nodded. "What about the site, any luck on tracing it down?"

"Nothing so far, it goes to a server in Illium through several nodes. That's why there's such a lag. It's outside Council space, so they're having trouble getting a hold of anyone."

"What happened to helping the Alliance out? Why bother with trying to track down the seller?" Emiya asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She turned to look at him, saying nothing. He blinked, as she was shutting him out. Was she merely angry, or had she come to suspect him of something?

No, she wants to find the first now. Does she want the item? He inhaled slowly, realization dawning. She thinks the proof is something like research notes, or even a copy of something valuable. She wants the AI technology for Cerberus?

"Do you remember the turian, Legarro?" she asked, looking at him again.

"Sure. The heir whose third cousin was a biotics trainer. I thought we dismissed the BAaT angle already."

She frowned at him, glaring again. "You're not here to ask questions, just find him. Keep an eye on him and see if he's participating in the bidding."

"Sure, sure." Emiya shrugged and turned to walk away.

;

Emiya sipped his drink: a turian take on champagne, of sorts.

Turians as a whole did not have any real alcohol culture, but despite the whole war between them and humanity, they had not held back one bit when it came to adopting parts of human culture around the intoxicating liquid, where it suited them, apparently.

He suspected something about swording open bottles of champagne or christening ships with a violent crack appealed to their sensibilities, leading to one or another turian developing their own take on bubbly alcoholic beverages.

It wasn't much good as a beverage, at least.

Obliquely eyeing the turian he had been told to keep a watchful eye over, he took another sip. He had wanted to try some of the cuisines, but the turian servers had refused him rather adamantly, repeatedly explaining the differences between levo and dextro foods to him even when he assured them that he only wanted a taste. But apparently, alcohols weren't a problem, so he hadn't held back when they allowed it.

More of an intellectual curiosity about the turian palate at this point, than anything else.

Legarro Vyrnnus wasn't their man, Emiya suspected.

The angle had been too tenuous from the beginning, in his opinion, and seeing the turian mingle without a care only reinforced that belief. He hadn't handed off the task to anyone else, either. Well, not that he particularly cared. At this point, he felt confident that he could leave whenever he wished since he had already gotten most of what he wanted from this endeavor.

He had been able to round out a final few points of his discussions and questions while keeping an eye on the turian, which had been rather convenient. He now knew exactly who he needed to talk to, what he had to ask for, and what he had to offer in return, now.

All that was left was to simply do it.

But that part was in no hurry - the people wouldn't be available until the festivities' conclusion, anyhow.

That, and he still wanted to see this all play out. In a clinical manner, he felt quite interested in seeing just who it was that was behind all of this. They were obviously very talented and had gone to great lengths over all of this. It struck him, that such a person ought to have dozens of easier ways of making money if that was all it was about. So there had to be something more at play here.

Someone sidled up to him and Emiya glanced at Dianne. She was wearing a server's uniform, blending in quite easily among the numerous other waiting personnel walking about, even if she was a human.

"Anything?" she asked, offering him something to eat on a platter.

"No. He's been ignoring the auction as far as I can tell," Emiya replied, shrugging as he took the offered snack and ate it. It was something asari, he guessed. There was a strange aftertaste, which he thought he recognized. Ah, I see how it is.

"Miranda has asked you to join her by the eastern gallery. Right that way," she said, smiling at him and then walking away while holding out the platter to other guests.

He finished his drink, put away the glass, and moved towards where Miranda was waiting for him, away from most of the crowds, the din of conversation and music thinning out.

The raven-haired Cerberus operative looked up, smiling at him as he approached. But the playful spark in her eyes was gone, replaced by glinting shards of ice now.

"Come on in, we have some privacy here." She motioned him to follow, false warmth painfully cold, walking away from the eyes of the crowd. The last sounds of the other partygoers muffled away with every step.

There were paintings and sculptures decorating the hallway, along with a wide-open terrace, through which the open Presidium could be seen. Though this part of the space station was technically nothing but a large rotating torus, on the inside it was quite difficult to tell. The inside of the rotating 'donut' was up, which at the moment looked like a dark blue night sky that wouldn't have been out of place on Earth. He could even see twinkling stars above and he wondered whether they were based on the actual stars, and if so, as seen from where in the galaxy.

Unlike the Wards where no artificial day cycle was enforced, on the Presidium, it seemed that no expenses had been spared in trying to recreate the feel of life on an actual planet.

Outside, right below, he could see even a large lake and green trees growing here and there, which must have cost a fortune to maintain every day. He could only just spot the disturbance the continuous rotation caused in the water's surface and on the green leaves. Did they alternate the rotation, or were the plants reinforced somehow to keep them from growing out curved?

Strangely enough despite the scenic vista, there was no one else here. It must have been closed off for one reason or another. Dianne's doing, or something else?

Perhaps to those who lived here, it simply wasn't such a beautiful sight as it was to a newcomer like him.

"It's quite something, isn't it?" she asked and he turned around to look at her. "Puts Armstrong to shame, doesn't it?"

Nodding, he turned to look back out.

They stood there for a short while in a strange, tense silence. Neither spoke a word, the tension between them building up slowly. He knew she knew something, which she knew. But neither knew what the other truly knew, only that they knew something. Very convoluted and circumspect.

"Do you have any idea who the seller is?"

Emiya glanced at her, finding her direct question rather unusual. There was a strange look in her eyes like she was trying to divine the truth of something from him, or force him to heel.

"No, but I've some guesses."

"Oh?"

He shrugged. "But no proof and means with which you could confirm them, so it's not worth thinking about. How about on your end, who has the highest bid at the moment?"

She stared at him, sighing as she looked away.

"So that's what you are interested in, after all."

Shaking her head, she walked up to him. He noticed a sashay to her hips that hadn't been there before. Exaggerated. He furrowed his brows, eyes raking her body. When did she... Ah, the trip to the ladies' room.

She was wearing a slinky evening dress, darker than the night sky above. Thin straps to her shoulders, showing her cleavage and bare arms, hugging her curved frame. She really has a preference for tight clothes, huh.

There were no pockets or extra baubles on her body, just a silvery omnitool on her wrist, easily mistaken for a bracelet. As far as he could tell by looking at her, she couldn't have been carrying anything, with how tight and revealing the dress was. Her lush hips and long legs drew the eye, her entire body on display and hiding nothing.

Stopping right next to him, she stared up.

Their eyes met.

"Is that all you really care about?"

Her blue eyes matched the deep blue of Presidium lake, this close up. Sparkling, drawing in all the light as she leaned closer and placed a hand on his chest.

Emiya almost frowned, watching her set it up.

Ah well, it's come to this again.

She leaned in, her other hand by her own chest, fingers running alongside the shoulder strap of her dress, brushing past her freely hanging dark hair and drawing in his attention to her lips. She reached out with a hand, slowly making for his face.

He grabbed her hand by the wrist, stopping it.

"Fool me once..." Emiya smirked, tightening his grip around her wrist. Painfully hard, using an inhuman fraction of his true strength.

She grimaced, releasing the item she had slipped out from her dress' shoulder strap. A thin metal object fell to the floor with a tiny sound. Glancing down, he saw the needle on the ground.

Looking up, their eyes met again.

Her entire act was gone, in its place the ice he had seen in her the first time they had met. She did not seem at all perturbed about having been discovered, which meant...

"Let her go."

Emiya did not look around, even as he heard the sound of a pistol being activated behind him. Glancing up, he also noted that there were security cameras in every corner of the room, even if they were all alone here.

Dianne chuckled, slowly walked into his peripheral vision from behind him. "Tough luck, loverboy. Security doesn't have eyes here anymore."

He let go of Miranda and she backed away slowly, her cold eyes still boring right into his. Her hips sashayed with every step, accentuating her bodylines until she came to a halt.

Putting her weight on one leg, she spread her legs just enough for the pistol she had been hiding between her thighs—just above the edge of her skirt—to fall down. Like a professional football player, she caught it with her foot and kicked it up, snatching it out of the air and bringing it to bear on him in one smooth motion.

Never underestimate a dress. He remembered the old faded scar on his neck itching for a moment. Last time it had been a knife, at least. Well, Miranda had fuller hips, so that a gun fit there wasn't a surprise.

"Wow, workplace relationships really are killer in this business," Emiya quipped, placing a hand on his hip as he stared at the two.

"And what business would that be?" Miranda asked, her voice like a shard of glass cast at him.

"You tell me. I've no idea what's going on right now, to be honest," he admitted freely. He had achieved most of his own goals, so he had been getting rather lazy as far as trying to figure them out went.

"Where is the item?" Dianne cut in, raising her gun square at his head.

She was several meters away, obviously having learned her lesson when it came to getting too close to him from last time. Or rather, the lesson he had wanted her to believe about safe distances; she was nowhere near far enough to actually be safe from him right now.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"I checked you out, Emil Nguyen. There indeed was a record of such a name listed as an operative under Cardotin," she said, eyes narrowing as a strand of her dark brown hair came loose and fell across her face. "But that was as a dormant asset profile. Nothing more. Then, I checked you, can you guess what I found?"

"Nothing bad, I hope."

She scowled at him. "Nothing at all. No records, anywhere. Not until you suddenly showed up at Armstrong. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm no one, really. I keep telling people, but they don't seem to ever believe me," Emiya answered, his amused smirk only growing.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough, won't we Miranda?" she replied, smirking back in mockery. "Pity you dropped the truth serum and broke the needle. But it's fine, I have more."

He made a considering sound at that, it did seem like Cerberus was rather fond of their drugs. "You mean like in the food you gave me?"

She merely gave him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling with amusement behind the sights of her pistol.

"Tell me, was everything you said a lie?" Miranda suddenly asked.

"No, I don't recall telling you a single lie. Who knows, though, maybe I've forgotten." Emiya blinked, tilting his head. "If I may, could I ask what's brought this on?"

Miranda scowled at him, inhaling through her nose slowly.

"It would take a top-notch infiltrator to have gotten in here and gotten everything set up. People like that are a one in a billion."

"Oh? And how does that relate to me?"

Miranda scowled at him. "You were the one who broke into Ares Station—don't even try to deny it."

Emiya blinked, tilting his head. To the side, Dianne made a chiding sound with her tongue at him, making him glance at her.

"Your palm prints in the terminal. Did you think that by erasing them chemically, we wouldn't be able to connect the dots? There was still just enough to make the connection," Dianne cut in again, smugly preening at him.

"Ah." Emiya nodded, not quite getting it but understanding that he had missed something entirely. I'll have to look into palm prints later, it was obviously a considerable blunder on my part.

"Well, no matter."

"True, it's not important right now." Dianne agreed easily enough. "What is important is the item. Tell us what you know. Where is it?"

He chuckled, crossing his arms.

"And if I tell you nothing?"

Her expression turned grim before she chuckled. "That's fine, too. We can do this the fun way, then."

Movement in his peripheral vision.

Emiya looked outside, out across the Presidium lake. He could see movement on the other side. Turians in armor, running to get into position. "Huh, they're quicker than I expected."

"Hmm?" Dianne asked, glancing to the side. But seeing nothing, she shrugged and returned her attention to Emiya.

But when Miranda looked, she froze as her superhuman eyesight was able to catch what he had noticed and Rasa had missed.

"C-Sec?" she whispered, eyes widening in horror.

Dianne blinked, looking to the side, peering out to see what she had missed. And for that moment, both of their attentions were off of him.

Emiya sprang forward, exploding into motion.

The distance between him and Dianne turned to zero in an instant, his arm snaking out and disarming her in the same smooth motion he pulled her up as a human shield, between himself and Miranda.

The other Cerberus operative had reacted instantly by tracking his blurred movement with her gun but hesitated in pulling the trigger, as Emiya calmly pulled the omnitool off of Dianne's struggling wrist.

He disengaged the power source with one hand and slipped it into one of his suit pockets—the one he had modified into acting as a Faraday pouch, to cut it off from the rest of the world, that could also be freely removed from the suit.

Glancing up, he could see her clenching her jaw as she debated whether to take the shot.

"It looks suppressed, but they're already keeping an eye on us. In fact, they're probably right behind the doors already. They'll come rushing in the moment that gun goes off." He nodded towards the entryway to the hall they were in, through where they had come and where the rest of the ball was underway.

Miranda grimaced, glancing between the outside Presidium, the doorway, and Emiya.

She inhaled, keeping the gun raised. "Release her."

Emiya said nothing, keeping himself behind the cover Dianne provided, as he backed away. While he could escape, the presence of the cameras and the C-Sec who were keeping eyes on him made things a bit troublesome. Reaching the terrace, where nothing but the view down to the lake remained behind him, he looked up.

"Sure."

Pushing Dianne away so she stumbled forward, he took three steps back until his back was to the safety rail overlooking the Presidium. Dianne gathered herself, turning around to glare at him and the pistol he had liberated from her.

"What are you trying to pull? None of this makes any sense," Miranda asked as Dianne moved out from between them. The crossfire was the last place she wanted to be in, right now.

Emiya shrugged. "Would you believe me, if I said I was just here for the company?"

She blinked at him, brows furrowing cutely for a moment as she hesitated.

The door opened then, letting two armored men and two turians in. They rushed out with their rifles readied and taking aim at them all. After them strode in a turian and a man without any helmets. Miranda turned to look that way, eyes narrowing.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stood with guns raised.

"Detective Pallin, Citadel Security, no one move. Lower your weapons immediately." The flanging voice of the turian echoed. He had dark skin, with strong white facepaint covering most of his face.

"Lieutenant Kolkkonen, Alliance Intelligence. Do not resist, your Armstrong base is already being raided right now; there's nowhere for you to run," The blond man next to the turian said, staring at them.

Emiya almost smirked at two women's expressions of shock.

Well, it wasn't how he had intended for this night to go down, but he supposed it was a decent enough ending. It was actually surprising, how far-reaching the effects of connecting some simple credit tampering to Cerberus' front company could be.

Then again, since that was all connected to the stuff he had been doing, perhaps the seemingly disproportionate reaction wasn't so out of place after all. Apparently, his little Mars-Moon trip had been leaving many people back on Earth scratching their heads.

"Officers, I'd love to stay," Emiya began, giving his most charming smirk, "but I still haven't had the chance to try out the turian cuisine... So, if you'll excuse me."

Emiya leaned back, feeling the terrace railing behind him, against his hips, and he kicked up with his feet going over the terrace side backward, falling down below.

"Hey—!"

He heard a shout past the air rushing through his ears as someone tried to tell him to stop, but it was too late. Performing a half-flip in the air to correct his orientation, he landed on his feet on the ground level from the second-floor terrace.

Above, he could hear feet running towards where he had dropped down. Turning around, he exhaled as he took in everything he could see before him. The Presidium lake, the luxury houses that ran along the sides of the torus' insides, the artificial night sky above, the numerous C-Sec officers around him drawing hasty beads on him...

There was a second of absolute stillness as he simply looked around.

Just as he had noticed before, there were six turians armed with long rifles in advantageous positions if he tried to run into the Presidium ring. Unless moved at his full mobility, he would not be able to outrun them. But that would be revealing too much, he felt.

Alternatively, he could simply find somewhere out of sight and spiritualize, leaving behind nothing but a pile of clothes. But that would mean abandoning the omnitool he had taken. But there was no need for that, either. He could still disappear and keep his spoils without revealing his true abilities, even in this situation.

The open space was a hindrance; he wanted a crowd he could disappear into. The ball inside still hadn't been interrupted, that much was obvious from the sound of music that he could hear again. Too much money at play, along with the silent auction, to let anyone stop the show now.

Best to head back inside the party and break their line of sight, then.

Turning on his feet, he exploded into a dash. Covering the open ground in an instant, he turned a corner and jumped in through the ground-level door. It was a service access, leading him back inside the Synthetic Insights compound. Above and behind, he could hear the shouts of the C-Sec officers, along with the sound of gunfire and combat.

"Huh, I guess she wasn't the type to let herself get caught, either. Well, this pretty much confirms they're not a part of the Alliance."

Emiya disengaged the pistol by taking out the power supply; he had no need for it and it was just another way for him to be tracked down later.

He arrived in the kitchen, kicking open the door. Three turian chefs turned to stare at him, strange knife-talon attachments wrapped onto their individual fingers as they were preparing some form of meat.

"Hey, this place is staff and personnel only, get—" One of them shouted at him, waving the blades at him.

Huh, weird. Emiya noted at the discrepancy in his mind, dashing past the turian. He would have to look into that later. Dancing through the kitchen, he grabbed some of the turian appetizers he hadn't been allowed to taste earlier, popping them into his mouth as he exited the kitchen.

"Hmm, minty."

He side-stepped a salarian server who almost fell over and dropped the tray he had been carrying, if not for Emiya handily reaching out to balance him at the right instant as he moved around in a spinning waltz step.

Pushing through a set of double doors he appeared back inside the main ballroom, where the guests still had not noticed a thing. The gentle music was still playing and the Synthetic Insights security personnel were still on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary among them. One of them noticed him and immediately began to reach for his comm, making eye contact with Emiya.

He smiled and waved at the turian above, before taking a deep breath and entering the crowd of people. The room was large enough, that it wasn't quite packed, but it was still difficult to spot individuals in the throng. Even from above, in this sea of people, he would mostly be able to disappear.

Of course, his plan was not to attempt an escape through the crowd but to drop something valuable off so that it could be smuggled out. The only thing of true value on his person right now was Dianne's omnitool, which was a tiny thing. Everything else was secondary.

Looking around, he tried to find anyone he could possibly use and soon enough he spotted a familiar face.

Someone who would be able to leave freely, regardless of the night's events.

He ducked and wove through the crowd, slowing down his pace as he approached the Alliance envoy from before. If he was right, then this was the key to this whole event.

Emiya patted him on the back, catching his attention.

"Abe! I just came to say that my wife and I will be leaving shortly, but that I wish you the best of luck. Make sure to give us a call, we'll compare prices, I'm sure that there's something we can leverage that Synthetic Insights can't offer you," Emiya said, winking at the man who blinked.

"Ah, certainly. Till we meet again, may it be soon." Abe nodded and offered a hand to Emiya after a moment of blinking hesitation.

"I'll hold you to that." Emiya grinned. They shook hands, nodding to one another, and then Emiya turned to leave again.

The only thing left to him was to hide his clothes, omnitool, and pistol somewhere out of sight, and to then spiritualize and vanish without a trace.

No problem.

;

Abraham Rumoi sighed as he walked through the automatic door to his apartment.

It was just a rented locale, but given the nature of his job as an Alliance Intelligence analyst, it couldn't be helped, since he was always on the move.

"What a night..." He shook his head.

He had been delayed quite a bit, both by the Synthetic Insights' ball and by the combined inquisition by the Alliance Intelligence's very own 'Lieutenant' Kolkkonen and C-Sec's Detective Pallin.

Something about following a trail from Luna, which Rumoi knew nothing about. They had both been rather annoyed with all three of their perps being able to escape and vanish into the ether. Doubly so, when he had been forced to on behalf of the Alliance to pay up the highest bid of the silent auction to acquire the mysterious item on sale.

"12 million Credits, huh."

It was a vast sum of money, enough for a man to live out his life in relative luxury nearly anywhere in the galaxy. As per his orders from the Alliance, he had re-acquired any and all information pertaining to the AI development project.

The OSD in his hand was all the proof that existed in the galaxy outside Gagarin Station, now.

The Alliance brass could sleep easy again, knowing that their dark dealings would not see the light of day. Not until the cooperative deal with Synthetic Insights was finalized and they had some level of plausible deniability for the Council, at least.

He took off his coat, stretching as he kicked off his shoes. For a moment, his mask slipped and he grinned widely; it had all gone off perfectly.

But then he got his control back and cast the jacket onto the nearby chair. There was a light metallic impact against the chair's back, and he blinked at the strange sound. Looking at the jacket, he noticed that one of the pockets was bulging a slight bit and was being weighed down.

Not much, but still.

Frowning, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some kind of fabric pouch. He blinked at it, not quite comprehending how it had gotten there. Then he froze at the sound of a mass accelerator weapon being opened and activated, just behind him.

"That would be mine. Just place it on the table."

Abe felt the cold sweat on the back of his neck trail down. The security system for this apartment was top-notch; no one should have been able to just break in. He, if anyone, knew how to ward off such infiltrators!

Placing the pouch with one hand on the table, he reached with the other to his concealed pistol. The oldest trick in the book; look at this hand, while the other goes for the weapon.

Only as he was turning around and saw his mysterious guest, he realized there was nothing where his gun should have been.

He realized only then, that he was being held at gunpoint with his own damn pistol.

Looking at the man, his eyes widened. "Emil Durana?"

But unlike the man he had met in the Synthetic Insights' ball, this man had hair the color of freshly fallen snow. The dissonance was somehow unsettling, and he wondered if he was seeing correctly for a moment, blinking at the man.

"Something to that effect, sure," the man answered smirking.

Abraham's mind raced at that. This man was one of the three that both C-Sec and the Alliance were looking for at this moment. How had he managed to get here? He considered pushing the alarm button; his cover was still strong enough to call in help. He just needed to get over to the counter in the kitchen and—

"So, 12 million Credits, huh? That's a lot of money, isn't it?" 'Emil' said, conversationally, that knowing smirk making Rumoi's stomach drop.

"...What do you want?" he ground out.

"How about half of the money, for starters? I think that is pretty fair, considering you've essentially robbed your own employers, mister Rumoi. Or do you prefer Okuda? I'm fine with either."

Abe let out a shuddering breath. How did he...?

"How...?"

"Oh, it was just something I thought of, during the party. That the easiest way to have gotten access to the AI would be to simply have normal access to it in the first place.

"Hell, you probably didn't even need to steal anything, just trip the right alarm and let the paranoia of the brass do the rest while they hand you all the files you actually need to pull off your little auction. It's such a dirty secret that they'd be willing to hand over any amount of cash to keep it from getting out, wouldn't they?"

Abe ground his teeth as he listened to his scheme being laid out in the open.

"The same at the ball. You were sent in early to discuss the whole matter with Synthetic Insights, giving you plenty of time to set up your extravagant announcements. Knowing the security from the inside would let you plan around all of it, eluding every measure and leading everyone on a merry goose chase. My own appearance even works out for you quite well: a handy fall-man to make a patsy out of. I'm sure you'd agree that it's a service worth half of your cut, considering the present circumstances," 'Emil' grinned boyishly, as if reveling in sharing his findings.

"...And if I don't?" Abe asked, but received only a cryptic smile in return. He sighed, knowing he had no cards to play. "Fine. But how do I know that you won't still sell me out?"

"The same way the Alliance trusts you to keep your word after you took their money. A certain level of faith is necessary in these things, no?"

Abe could not refute those words, having essentially forced similar conditions on others recently.

"Fine. Fine," he ground out.

In this business, it wasn't about how much made overall, but how much you made without getting burned. Paying off a blackmailer once was acceptable if it would buy him time to clean up his tracks and vanish before a second demand could be made.

"Oh, another thing. A question, if you will."

"Go ahead, you're the man with the gun and all," Abe quipped, relaxing slightly as he was beginning to plan his way out of this.

Nodding at that, the man continued. "Why the ball? Why not simply demand payment up-front?"

"You really want to know?" Abe considered the question, inhaling slowly at his blackmailer's nod. "Fine... Mind if I pour us drinks?"

"No, go right ahead."

Nodding, he turned around to go to the liquor cabinet for some of his fine Armagnac, just something to take the edge off this situation. And also something that might let him turn the tables here. A man was never as unwary as he was in the moment of his triumph.

As he had been reminded just now.

He still had no idea how any of this could have happened, but that was no excuse for just rolling over and letting it happen.

"The reason was three-fold. First, it lets me dictate the location," he began, pouring out into two glasses of the amber liquid. No ice, room temperature, in a simple glass, as was. Anything else was simply poor manners. That and it might tamper with the active ingredients.

Handing over one glass, he kept an eye on the pistol. He half-expected the man to demand the other glass, or for him to taste it first as a test. But 'Durana' simply accepted the glass without hesitation and began to nurse the glass in his hand to warm it up.

Abe blinked, despite himself growing to slightly respect the man for that.

"In a one-to-one negotiation, both parties have leverage in the negotiations. If one refuses to play, the other has to concede or go through with the threat. That is too black and white, with too little room for play. But when I dictated it to be a silent auction, it became a matter of hundreds of potential buyers. Even if only a handful are actually interested, it still changes the situation. None of them have any more leverage than anyone else, keeping them all on their toes. If they had as a whole rejected the arrangement, it would be one thing, but like this, I had in practice supreme power over the deal."

"I see. It sounds like sound advice. I'll make sure to remember that," 'Emil' said, raising the glass to sniff at the vapors and inhaling deeply. But still not drinking. "Hmm, not bad at all. And the second reason?"

"That one was simple enough. More money." Abe shrugged, drinking of his own Armagnac and savoring the taste even in this situation, using the taste to ground and focus himself. He only ever drank Armagnac when he was calm and focused, creating a trigger for his current self to shed its stress.

"Hah, straightforward enough. Seeing others bid allows you to justify the high price to your bosses, won't it? 'It can't be helped sir, those damn alien bastards kept raising the price', and you probably threw in half of the bids as a third party, too?"

Abe nodded.

"And the third reason is... complicated."

"Personal?"

He shrugged. "Not as such, but it was a moral quandary I had..."

It wasn't something he wanted to talk about, even for the sake of buying time. But 'Emil' waited patiently, saying nothing, but obviously not letting the matter go.

Abe sighed, continuing with some reluctance.

"The Alliance just finalized its first Artificial Intelligence, Eliza. But they have no idea what they're doing and the more they test it, the more they'll want to test it."

"Ah, you were worried about it, since they're so new at it. Thus, you arranged it to be here, where you could subtly force the Alliance to contact Synthetic Insights for help."

"Yes." Abe nodded, sighing quietly.

"Well, aren't you a conscientious little blackmailer," 'Emil' smiled, obviously amused as he nodded at that. "Well, send the money and we can get this over with."

Abe hesitated, glancing at the pistol but then hastening to obey. He had to jump through a few proxies and dummy accounts to get access to the money safely, but after that, he could forward it without any risks.

Looking up, he made eye contact. "It's done."

'Emil' smirked, nodding.

And he tossed back the glass of Armagnac and drank it all—no doubt having waited until Abe drank first to be safe! He felt a sense of elation erupt at that; just as he had suspected, in receiving the money he felt too safe and had forgotten about the drink! With this, Abe could still reverse-hack the money trail and get it all back, he could...

But then 'Emil' tossed aside the pistol as if he didn't need it anymore, breaking Abe's train of thought.

"Wha—"

And then the man was right in front of him, with his hand reaching for Abe's neck and—

Darkness.

"—What?" Abe jumped up, waking from his dreamless sleep with a fright. He looked left and right, finding himself on his couch. He blinked in confusion. "...What? How?"

His mind felt clear. Almost like he hadn't been drugged at all. But then, how did...?

He looked up at the clock, finding that two hours had passed. The strange pouch on the table was gone, another glass' worth of Armagnac had been drunk and the pistol was still on the floor where it had been tossed. Glancing over, he found the OSD with all the evidence still where he had left it, untouched.

Swallowing, he got up. His throat felt dry, all of a sudden. Had he mixed up the Armagnac glasses, somehow? 'Emil' had most certainly emptied his glass, yet he hadn't been knocked unconscious, while Abe himself had been?

Abe shook his head, he hadn't even seen the switch happen; he had been a hundred percent certain that he had handed the right glass to the man who had blackmailed him at gunpoint.

"How the hell...?"

;

Thanks a bunch to PseudoSteak, he's the best proofreader a writer could have. Even if he does sound like Clippy at times with his snark :V