Man off the Moon Chapter 36: Stratagems, a Fate/stay night + Mass Effect Crossover fanfic

They stared at each other.

The handshake stretched on, growing steadily more and more awkward until it finally entered territories wholly uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, Emiya released his grip and pulled back his hand, with Saren doing the same a few seconds later upon recognizing the cue to let go.

Neither said anything, realizing at once that neither of them knew where to go from here.

Not certain whether it was the turian's possible inexperience with human customs or if it was just the result of him struggling with his injury, Emiya thought better of lampooning on it. Better to get a feeling for Saren's personality before he said something that sank the whole ordeal before it had even gotten off the ground. Sighing internally he kept a placid face even as he bemoaned having to deal with an entirely new set of body language again, just when he had finally started to feel comfortable with the asari. Despite his extensive efforts to study and familiarize himself with the various aliens in the galaxy in the past few years, he simply hadn't had sufficient material to learn how to read turians.

Not beyond the basics, anyhow. It had been like how he had thought he could speak English after having listened to the news for years in that language with his basis from English classes in school, only to realize how far removed what he had seen on the public broadcasts had been from the actual thing.

Getting this to work won't be easy. Approaching him with anything other than my best isn't going to cut it. Which was going to be a problem; it wasn't just the turian who had gotten a bloodied nose in this confrontation. It was only through his controlled breathing and focus that Emiya wasn't swaying on his feet. So, what now? Do I ask him to get me out of here so that we can talk somewhere else?

Or would that be a sign of weakness to the turian? Could he afford to ask for help? If this was a human, he could make some educated guesses as to the other's intentions and motivations. But, no matter how he tried to look, he couldn't say what the turian was thinking.

What do I know about the turians? He asked himself.

A militaristic, highly hierarchical race, who take great pride in their discipline and their role as the military arm of the Citadel. They deal in trade, but are nowhere near the asari or the salarians in economic power, relying mostly on their client race—the volus—to deal with the finer details of such matters. Strict and strong believers in the rule of law. But considering the First Contact War with humanity, where the turians had taken the opportunity to attack a new race in apparent hopes of acquiring another client race, they weren't above playing situations to their advantage using the letter of the law. So, quid pro quo, but don't allow him to get the upper hand—give an inch, and he'll take a light-year. Don't show any weakness unless you want him to bite.

It wasn't much but at least it was something he could start with.

"Do you need help with that thing?" Emiya offered, squaring his shoulders back just the tiniest bit to emphasize his height advantage as if saying he was still fine despite what had just happened. Show weakness when strong, show strength when weak. Having evolved from the carnivores of Palaven, the sharp teeth and talons did not belie the turians' ferocity.

Saren seemed to pause, before understanding the gesture Emiya had made towards the pinecone. With a slow inhalation, the turian shook his head with his gaze lingering at the artifact for a second.

"No."

Emiya nodded. Is he worried about me being affected, or of appearing weak himself? Either made sense, as he too, was leery about letting the thing out of his sight and of the Spectre trying his luck if Emiya appeared weak even for a moment. Still, it appeared that neither wanted a repeat of what had happened to the asari and the batarians. He didn't want to just let it go, but as long as he knew that it was Saren who had taken custody of it at least he would have a trail to follow. If he needed to find it later. That was if things did sour between them. Right, strict and proud. Entrusting it to him would be a show of respect. But I could also press the matter—demand to oversee the whole thing and then leverage that to get out of here...

But could he pull something that delicate off against someone who worked with asari and salarians of the highest echelons regularly? Someone who was presumably if not on speaking terms, then at least familiar with nearly all the heads of state operating within the Citadel space.

Probably not.

His strongest form of diplomacy was of the 'blow everything up and then run like hell' variety, after all. Then again... This was a Spectre. Someone in the highest rungs of the turian military even before his rise into the Citadel Council's private special forces. After the first contact war on Shanxi, the turians definitely would have spared no expense in compiling comprehensive dossiers on humanity and humans for their elite, much less the STG-backed Council.

There was no way that the turian wasn't at least somewhat confident in dealing with humans. Hadn't the turian barged into an Alliance operation if he was here, now? He must have been confident in dealing with anything the Alliance could throw his way here, at least.

Emiya was beginning to realize that he was horribly outmatched in social skills here.

"What about the kshirae-effect?"

The turian paused, seeming to look at Emiya strangely for a moment. "The... geth are capable of handling it without being indoctrinated. They will handle it," Saren said as his voice was starting to finally sound more relaxed and in control again.

The drugs he took must be finally kicking in, Emiya thought as he nodded at the turian's words. And he's not trying to hide the existence of the geth, either? But, most importantly...

"Indoctrinated? Is that what you call it?"

The turian seemed to twitch, but it was so minute that it might well have been nothing at all. Had it been an involuntary slip?

"...Yes." Saren finally nodded, as if convincing himself that it was an acceptable term to convey. "Its... similarity to the mind control of the asari genetic aberrations appears... incidental."

That was news to Emiya. Perhaps there was more to it than he had experienced, and this wasn't the time and place for comparing notes. "Alright... I'll defer to your expertise, then."

But could he just take a rain-check with this turian? Could he even be trusted to not shoot Emiya in the back the moment he turned around?

Prod him, Emiya decided.

He started walking forward, and the turian's tension spike, his good talon stiffening into an open position as bones and carapace locked into place for powerful raking slashes, and his feet took a subtly stabler position gearing up for a fight. Then, as if realizing what he had been doing, the turian consciously relaxed and straightened up. Yeah, we're both walking on eggshells here...

Walking past the turian, Emiya consciously kept his body relaxed, as if he hadn't even noticed the turian's discomfort just now. Crouching down, at the spot where he had been brutalized moments before, he reached out and began to pick up the pieces of his torn shroud. It wasn't a projection, but rather something he had been given during his life. Mending it was possible but given how utterly shredded it had become, it would take quite a bit of time. The last time it had been ripped he had just stopped using it as a scarf and turned it into his three-part shroud instead.

Showing his back to the turian without any apparent care, Emiya continued gathering the pieces of his mantle while giving Saren time to compose himself.

"Do you... need medical attention?" the Spectre finally asked after half a minute of tense silence. His voice finally sounded somewhat stable, but it was obvious he was still in great pain.

"Do you have the facilities and supplies to treat a human on your ship?" Emiya asked, half-turning around as he gathered the last pieces, still crouched down on the floor. "Or any such facilities within the immediate distance?"

"...No." The turian seemed to grimace, as if only just now remembering that fact.

Well, I'll appreciate the gesture for what it is, anyhow. A minor offering, something that wouldn't matter whether it was accepted or refused. In this case an effort to meet Emiya halfway and reciprocating his own earlier gesture with the pinecone. It's a start, at least.

Not that either of them had any intention of accepting such help from the other, yet. But it was the attempt that counted; the olive branch being extended, from which an actual relationship as equals could be built.

Should he ask for something more? Something small?

Asking for a way out of the immediate situation would be a show of weakness... But would it be worth it, asking for the Citadel to stop looking for him? Just long enough that he could visit the Moon Cell and get himself fixed up again? Just long enough that he didn't end up causing another galactic incident while trying to stop everything from burning down around him?

Did the Spectre even have that kind of power?

An errant twitch of the loosely hanging talon at the turian's side caught Emiya's eye for a moment, reminding him again of the vast gulf between them.

One of the Spectre's strongest bargaining chips here was the fact that the turian effectively had the entire might of the Citadel Council behind him, poised against Emiya. Asking for a reprieve was just about admitting that it was actually pressuring him. Then can't I just turn it around on its head? Acknowledge and then ignore that as a show of strength?

Emiya sighed dramatically as he stood up, pocketing the shredded remains of his shroud. "I'll have to head back with the Alliance boys, then." Raising one arm gingerly, he stared down at it and spoke quietly. "Meaning I'll have to head back into Sol or Arcturus, then..."

The turian perked at that, almost leaning forward at those words, as if about to pounce on him, suddenly all too reminiscent of a coiled viper.

"Could you do me a favor?" Emiya asked casually, noting with interest how the turian seemed to deflate at that as if realizing again that it was a conversation. "Pretend you don't know I'm headed there. Maybe even draw away some heat from my trail. I would appreciate not having to force my way through another planetary blockade again while getting patched up."

The turian's beady eyes shone with what Emiya thought was apprehension and calculation.

"...It could be done."

Emiya nodded at Saren's wary tone. There was no point in promising anything just yet, when it could easily be that this was just a ploy by Emiya to get away. "Speaking of which... This doesn't seem like the talk we ought to be having while swimming in pain killers, right?"

Saren nodded slowly, before straightening up once more. "You might be right." Pausing for a second to consider something as he looked around as if weighing the surrounding geth, the turian nodded at his thoughts before continuing. "Yes, we're, ill-equipped to have this conversation right now this very moment."

Was he figuring his odds based on how many geth he still had? Emiya thought coolly but answered with a neutral voice, not letting his suspicions further weaken the already fragile moment. "So we're agreed? Postponing it for a few days seems like the way to go."

The turian nodded and there was no way to tell whether it was a universal affectation or something feigned for effect. "Let us meet again on... Hmm... Have you heard about Eden Prime before?"

"Eden Prime?" Emiya blinked at the unfamiliar name, searching his memory and finding nothing.

That sounded promising; a small enough world to have evaded his interests until now would allow him quite a bit of leeway for a meeting. But it also meant that Saren could plot any kind of ambush he desired if it came to that, if viewed the other way around. Hmm...

"It is a new human colony in the Attican Traverse, quite close to Inner Citadel space. A farming world, standing more as a symbol of your species' efforts in spreading out into the galaxy at large." Saren explained with a nod, emoting minutely with each word. "We should both be able to make our way there without much trouble. It is a..." The turian paused, searching for the right word for a moment. "'neutral' enough meeting place for a more in-depth discussion."

Was Saren assuming that the Alliance-controlled space was Emiya's power base? Then why settle for something so far away from the Citadel and the Turian territories? Is his power base built in the Attican Traverse, then? It was something to consider.

"When?"

"Shall we say... a month from now?" Saren suggested quickly.

Emiya grunted, considering it. He has the advantage when it comes to resources. The more time I give him, the more he can exert and leverage that.

"Let's make it two weeks instead. No point in wasting time; we can both make it there on time, right?"

The turian hesitated before nodding again. "Very well. I shall see you in... 340 hours on Eden Prime. I shall be there on a turian frigate in orbit. Hail me and we will set up the meeting then."

Emiya nodded, putting the time and place to memory. He would have to look it up later, but for now, just having the name would have to suffice. "Alright."

That decided, the turian turned around and began to walk away briskly, if a bit gingerly still due to his arm, leaving Emiya alone in the hallway again. Letting out a long sigh and shaking his head gingerly, he too turned and moved to walk away.

With that settled, he now just needed to get out of here without setting what little remained of the asari cruiser still in one piece on fire.

;

The shuttle's doors opened and eight hardsuited figures rushed out with their rifles at the ready. When the shout for the area being clear was finally heard, a ninth figure emerged from the shuttle onto the asari cruiser.

Arnaut Kyle looked up and around, adjusting his previous perceptions of asari ships to what he was currently seeing. It wasn't altogether that different from what he had expected. That's right. As long as I treat this ship like a bunker, I'm more than capable of handling this. I merely have to be careful of the asari, so that they can't put the blame for this on us.

All he needed was more manpower.

Whatever was going on with Shepard, the AIA and Redhax didn't matter one whit. As long as he could establish a foothold here and take control, then everything after that would be smooth sailing.

"How much longer until the reinforcements are ready to board?"

"The shuttles have already taken off of Torfan; estimated time of arrival for the 43rd company; fifteen minutes."

"Good. Keep me posted," he replied with a nod.

With his own men, he could at least trust them to follow his orders. Probably. He realized about then that he felt nauseous, his breathing shallow and rapid suddenly. His heart was beating in his chest so rapidly that he could consciously feel his hand shaking in sync with every beat. Calm down... You wanted this.

Turning his attention to the nearest soldier, who was conscientiously not paying attention to him, instead vigilantly watching their surroundings.

"Have the asari been found yet?"

"One of the fire teams reported picking up something, but they haven't called in yet—" The soldier answered, only to pause for a moment. Turning his head away unconsciously, as if thinking it would enhance his hearing, he nodded to himself before looking at Arnaut again. "Sir, they've found some asari. Commandos by the looks of it."

"Are they alright?" Kyle asked, feeling the cold palpitations through his whole body.

"I think so, sir. What do you want to do?"

Taking in a deep breath, he resolved himself. "...Take me to them, and have the shuttles prepare for evac the moment they arrive. I want every craft we have in the air and outside the cruiser within half an hour, but only on my mark, understood? I don't want a single shuttle boarding or leaving this cruiser without my say-so."

"Understood, sir."

;

Saren let out a pained exhalation as the shuttle door closed behind him, allowing his body to fall down against the floor. Raising an arm to take off his helmet, struggling with each pained breath, he realized that his working limb was shaking to the point of near-uselessness to match the utter uselessness of his broken one.

"Spirits...!" he cursed, fumbling to at the very least remove his visor and fill his lungs with air.

It wasn't any different from the stuff in his suit—not really, beyond a marginal difference in gas composition—but the taste and smell of something beyond the completely sterile suit air still acted as a strong comfort and grounder against the pain. The long walk hadn't made the sensation of the numerous bone and exoskeleton shards grinding against each other and his flesh any easier, either.

Their homeworld of Palaven had a relatively weak magnetic field, which meant that all living things were every day under constant bombardment of strong solar radiation, causing most organic beings to evolve a natural metallic carapace to protect them. This gave them considerable protection from the numerous cuts and bruises the other—"softer"—races often acquired during their lives, which gave them a considerable advantage in matters of martial prowess.

Until they were injured, that is.

Unlike those races who had to deal with their lack of a hardened exoskeleton or carapace, the turians hadn't evolved a nervous system nearly as complex. For one this meant that their sense of "touch" was much weaker. For another, it meant that what humans could overcome with a burst of epinephrine, norepinephrine, and cortisol, would completely floor a turian with shock. The 'floor' for how much damage they could withstand was much greater due to those hardened plates—allowing them to shrug off what would scrape and wound and bruise others—but their 'ceiling' was much lower as well.

The turians could not simply molt off their injuries, like the rachni of old or have so many redundancies that they could ignore the damage altogether, like the krogan.

That he had gotten this far was solely due to being able to use an STG developed combat stim meant to replicate those neurotransmitters found in other races, allowing him to not become utterly catatonic from the pain.

But only for a short while—it was already wearing off.

Saren's vision had gone white, and he was certain someone was talking to him, but he couldn't understand it at all. The... geth? The pain ebbed and flowed with his heartbeat, causing his entire body to twitch every half second. Managing to walk away from that man was a miracle in and of itself, but the fact that he had had the presence of mind to actually facilitate a meeting was something else entirely—something out of this world. Something touched him and his eyes flew wide open as he jolted, followed by another blinding rush of grinding hot agony radiating down from his shoulder, reaching all the way to the bottom of his feet in their intensity.

"Get us..." the turian began, only to hesitate. Could he afford to leave just yet? Even with his grievous injuries, something was nagging at him. That he had forgotten something vital just now.

The geth chittered a query at him, which finally broke his spell of lost self-reflection.

"He's not with the Alliance. But...?" Saren quietly murmured, as horrified realization dawned on him. As then, didn't that mean that there was a very real danger of their fragile ceasefire being broken if, when, Redhax found out about what he had been doing here? "Damn it all..."

He glared up at the nearest geth then, fire pooling in his gut as he suppressed his agony and exhaustion through sheer force of will.

"Have you finished forging the video footage yet? Of the three humans that were shot?" This wasn't something he could allow to go to waste because of the deaths of three worthless humans. "Well...?!"

The geth replied with their usual mix of frenetic poise, clicking sounds and fabricated organic gestures warring with their obvious synthetic true nature in the robotic platforms they used. He relaxed, allowing relief to flood him for a moment at the reply he received.

Still...

Would that even be enough?

Redhax had managed to vanish all of the geth in his personal computers in the space of a second. Had they only been deleted, or did the human hacker think to copy them first? Could he glean from them the truth of that incident, even if he was presented with flawlessly doctored footage? Could the geth even be trusted to keep quiet? Until now he had thought them completely reliable in their own way, as no other organic would even think to communicate with them. Certainly, they were only really loyal to Sovereign, but so long as their goals aligned, then the geth could be made use of without worry.

But faced with 'Redhax'...

Everything had suddenly changed.

Staunch allies had suddenly turned into what could be his greatest weakness, he realized with sudden trepidation.

A prompt on his heads up display broke him out of his thoughts, as the geth sought to inform him of something. The turian almost growled, but his taut nerves relaxed as he realized that the footage had already been completed and they were only presenting it for his inspection.

Best yet, it had been completed already before his meeting with the human; even if Redhax had managed to download all the files on Saren's omnitool, he would still only be presented with the doctored footage of the events. The turian let out a nervous laugh, wheezing in pain as the movement sent blazing lines of agony through his entire body. The pain kept spreading, already all but radiating all the way up to the tips of his crest.

It's fine. It's fine, he told himself quietly, almost whispering the words to himself in his reverie. As long as the geth did not speak to Redhax themselves then everything would be fine. I need to set him up as an antagonistic existence to the geth and the Reapers, without alarming either too much...

That would be the best way to ensure his position in between, allowing him to leverage both in the future.

Managing a delicate balance like that would be hard, especially since Sovereign was certain to grow curious once it realized he was dealing directly with the human. But it had to be done. For the sake of the future of the galaxy. He reassured himself again; this could still work. He could still handle this.

Another chime on his heads up displays, jarring and discordant in his dazed state approaching the black of unconsciousness.

"What is it now...?" A blurry image appeared, from what appeared to be a security feed in a pre-fab facility. It could have been from anywhere in the galaxy, the cheap constructions so ubiquitous. But the metadata indicated Torfan's surface as the source. And more than that it was flagged as a person of interest; one of the Shadow Broker's pawns.

"...This is...?"

A large krogan, wearing a crimson hardsuit and armed to the teeth. Quite obviously a mercenary looking for his next job, completely ordinary among his kind except for his obvious age and size. The krogan appeared to be walking out of a hangar bay while looking up at the sky.

Checking the time-stamp, Saren knew what the krogan was looking at.

The Alliance fleet, that had just been fighting with the batarians down on Torfan. The batarians, who Saren had armed by robbing a Citadel shipment by hiring a third-party through several intermediaries, whom he had only interacted with directly at the very end to ensure the goods were delivered in full and that there would be no leaks. The third-party, which had since been completely eradicated to ensure no loose ends, except for a lone krogan who had vanished before getting his pay for the job.

The krogan who had seen Saren in person aboard the hijacked Citadel starship just after the job had been completed, who knew him as the client for the job, who could theoretically connect him directly to the batarians the Alliance had been fighting down on Torfan.

"Spirits be damned..."

Those three dead Alliance officers just became the least of Saren's problems.

;

Emiya paused, frowning as he tilted his head.

Footsteps. At least a dozen people, wearing military heavy gear. Not asari, and definitely not turian based on the cadence of the individual strides. I recognize this sound... duck-walking. Which would mean... the Alliance, huh?

That was decidedly not good for him.

"Can't use the cloak, the cruiser's internal systems aren't back up yet and I need to avoid fighting..."

Which meant no hiding in plain sight, no information advantage or calling in a ship to make an escape with and no forcing his way through. How wonderful, it was starting to feel like the good old days now. I really need to stop putting myself in these situations... Still, it should mean that the asari will be fine. With Saren handling the pinecone and with the rest of the kshirae taken care of, it shouldn't be a problem. Or rather, Indoctrination, he reminded himself.

That damned thing had been down in Torfan for who-knew-how-long and the Alliance marines had seemed to be fine after their relatively short exposures to the lower levels. As long as they didn't tarry around here, then their presence shouldn't be a problem here either.

At least in the short term. I'll have to set up contingencies once I'm out of here, huh... he complained to himself as he kept moving. Turning around and picking up the pace before he accidentally entered the range of the Alliance soldiers' scanners, Emiya moved at a steady pace.

Should I have followed Saren, after all?

Clicking his tongue at the errant thought, he chastised himself for crying over spilled milk, especially while it was all but still dripping onto the floor. Okay, what are my options? Find someplace to hide aboard the cruiser and wait for everyone to leave? Infiltrate the asari and try to leave with them? Steal a shuttle and try to get away on my own?

Did the Alliance already know he was here?

Not knowing what they knew and were planning, he couldn't just make sudden moves and run for it. Not when Shepard was rolled up in all of this.

"Okay... Go over your resources... What do you have on hand, right now?"

What could turn this around?

He needed something that could force the Alliances forces just outside the cruiser to move, even if just a little... Something, like the hastily adopted AIA identity he had taken from Shepard? Maybe if I can get a signal out, then I can figure out what they know, and then try to make an opening for myself...

Even with the loss of his gear thanks to Saren, he still had the cybernetic implants inside of his head. While the transmitting capabilities weren't the best—due to the limitations created by being installed literally inside of his brain, a relatively sensitive and fragile organ—its receivers were still quite sensitive. But only when it came to Omni-directional signals, something which few starships bothered to use for communication.

Tightbeams—bursts of concentrated light beams—were simply that much more efficient and secure, after all.

If he wanted to tap into the Alliance's communications, he would have to get close to one of the marines hooked up to the daisy-chain of short-range communicators that was hooked up to whatever tightbeam module they were using to communicate with the other ships. Meaning he would have to get close enough to the marines to be able to hack in, without being spotted by their sensor suites and radars, navigating the sensitive margin between the ranges of their communications and their radars all while navigating the insides of the cruiser.

Emiya sighed, shaking his head. "Should be a piece of cake, huh?"

;

Shepard blinked as the doors opened and the armed marines walked through.

That in and of itself wasn't such a big surprise, given that the asari commandos had already reported meeting with and coming back with the Alliance forces who they had run into. She could spot Anatha, Tryna, and Shiala all safely among the returning commandos number, to her relief.

What was surprising was...

"Major Kyle?"

What was he doing here? An infantry officer shouldn't have anything to do with a boarding operation, regardless of the circumstances here. Her own shuffling into the ground party during the Torfan operation was almost solely due to the lacking manpower and her status as an N7, meaning that she had the training to function in any part of the Alliance war-machine...

But Kyle was being escorted by marines?

Something about this was completely off, she realized just as the man in question looked up, his head turning as he with furrowed brows scanned the crowd of blue until her red caught his eye. He too blinked as their eyes met. Then, with a solemn air, he nodded at her as if saying that they were together in this now. An action wholly uncharacteristic of the usually almost frenetic man.

She had a bad feeling about this.

Clearing his throat, he spoke. "I am Major Arnaut Kyle of the Systems Alliance. Who is in charge here?"

Immediately, Benezia stepped forward, as if having but been waiting for her cue just now. Smiling, she spoke. "I am Matriarch Benezia. Have you come at the Spectre's council?"

Nearly every asari in the room was standing on edge, hoping to hear that they were finally being rescued. In turn, this nervous energy affected the marines, who were starting to look around with growing worry.

"The Spectre...?" Kyle repeated, almost as if having lost track of the conversation. "Ah, no. It would appear that there has been a mistake in communications, as we have not been in contact with the Spectre who boarded your starship earlier. But yes, we are here to evacuate you."

It took nearly a full second for those words to register, but the instant it had passed nearly the entire room erupted into cheers of relief. Even the antsy marines seemed to be infected by the mood, as they looked around at each other. But Shepard didn't miss the calculating glint in Kyle's eye as he remained completely calm, in the eye of the metaphorical storm. Why?

"Thank you," Benezia said, not raising her voice but instead allowing her words to make their own silence as those around her gradually calmed down. "Have you already prepared crafts? I believe the hangar bay would be best suited for evacuation, given that the emergency systems remain inactive still..."

Shepard nodded at those words; Emiya would be able to sneak aboard one of the shuttles there with his cloaking.

Kyle did not respond immediately, instead turning to one of the marines by his side and exchanging several whispered words. Finally, nodding at the conclusion of the silent exchange, the Major looked up and smiled apologetically at the Matriarch. "I am afraid that we have not secured that a route to the hangar bay. But we have an alternative in mind, with shuttles already waiting for you there."

If Benezia was perturbed by the change in plans, it certainly did not show as she smiled warmly at those words. "Thank you. Your care for our safety will not be forgotten. Then, if you would but give me a moment, and we will have ourselves organized for departure..." Turning around, the elder looked around until she spotted Shiala. With a subtle gesture, the Matron was called over and joined the pair.

Shepard had to blink, frowning as something about that felt off. Why is she walking like that? Wait, is she...? She's really... sashaying towards them?

"This is Shiala," Benezia continued, gesturing at the commando beside her. "She knows the cruiser and the crew well—if there is anything you need assistance with please do not hesitate to make full use of her."

Kyle nodded seriously, intending to give a courteous smile and nothing more to the younger asari, but ended up doing a small double-take as their eyes met as the Matron removed her helmet. Blinking twice and frowning, the Major forcefully pulled his gaze away from Shiala as he cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes. Thank you. That will be, ah, good." Shaking his head, as if ridding himself of distractions like tangible things, Kyle's eyes determinedly locked onto Benezia's. "Setting that aside, where are the rest of the Alliance officers who had been invited aboard your ship?"

Having been slowly approaching the three, Shepard chose this moment to inject herself into the conversation. "Sir, we lost contact with them nearly half an hour ago, after it was decided that we would work together with the asari."

Kyle's piercing eyes turned to regard her, narrowing as he inhaled slowly before finally nodding. "...I see. We'll have to send out men to look for them, then. This cruiser seems to have become a wreck hours ago, but we've not been able to verify how long it will keep working. Matriarch, any guesses as to how long we have before things turn critical?"

"Ah, that is..."

Noticing the Matriarch's hesitation, Kyle frowned.

Oh no — we sent Emiya to repair the ship, so it's not like we can give an off-the-cuff estimate. But if we had sent the engineering crew there, we should have some kind of estimate on hand at least, Shepard realized. And as the Dreyn N'var's reactors had powered down and then turned on again, it was obvious that someone had repaired it.

Could they bluff and say that it had been an asari team that had also gone silent? But would the Alliance marines then be looking for them in vain? Should she simply say that it had been Emiya? If he dug into it, it would no doubt sooner or later come to light that he had been here, since he hadn't exactly been subtle.

Warring loyalties made her hesitate for just a second too long, making their silence stand out.

Kyle cleared his throat. "...Lieutenant, come with me for a moment."

Shepard glanced at Benezia, before nodding at Kyle's request and limping after him as he moved away to get some privacy, apparently wholly uncaring of her injuries. They came to a halt at the edge of the room, the Major's baleful glare chasing away any nearby asari as he came to lean against the wall.

"So, is he here?"

Shepard hesitated.

"Hmm. I see, so he is." Kyle sighed, his lowered eyes remaining on the floor, unfocused as he nodded once. "I... managed to gain some temporary authority by catching the attention of the AIA, back in Arcturus Station, by reporting what I thought was going on here. But, Shepard..." he said, looking away from her. "What the hell is going on here?"

She cringed, looking away. "It's... it's a bit of a mess, to be honest, sir."

"Figures," he scoffed, almost amused by her own distress it seemed. "But you know what's going on here, at least... Right?" His eyes scanned over the gathered asari, before returning to hers with meaning.

What should she tell him? Was he looking for advice, or trying to assess culpability? She inhaled, making up her mind. Whatever else he was, Major Kyle cared about his subordinates. Of that, she had no doubts.

"Yes, sir."

"Then, can I trust you? I thought I could—that you cared about the Navy, about your fellow soldiers, about what we were doing here. But then I find out you're working for the AIA too... Shepard. Can I trust you to do what's right here?" He paused intently for effect. "To not go running off after some hacker and come back half-dead with another AIA agent in tow? Can I trust you to not leave everything else behind to pursue some hidden agenda again?"

"Yes, sir. " She felt like looking away but held firm regardless. "That won't happen again."

Kyle said nothing, nodding only once as his eyes returned to the floor. Inhaling slowly, he pushed off the wall nodding again, almost as if convincing himself to go through with his decision, whatever it was. "Alright. Then, what should I do right now? I can't handle him and all these asari at the same time. Will Alliance Intelligence come down on me if I just ignore him to evacuate the asari?"

Shepard blinked, not having expected such an open admission. "I don't know either, to be honest, sir. But right now he's not our enemy. He wasn't the source of the disaster here, and he's... been helping with keeping the ship from falling apart."

Sighing, he patted her shoulder. "...Alright. We'll proceed with the evacuation, then." Walking away, she could barely hear him mumble quietly to himself. "Redhax or whatever his name is can rot on this cruiser for all I care."

;

"Hmm, they're finally getting everyone out."

Emiya nodded, crouched by the dimly lit corner of an empty personal quarter, tuning in to the broadcast signals of the nearby marine team that was slowly checking through this section of the crew quarters. A team of three marines, working in a cohesive unit along with five other similar fireteams.

He still hadn't tried to hack into any of their gear, instead familiarizing himself with the margin between their range of detection and the short-range Omni-directional communications signal. So far he had identified at least four types of messages, all with varying levels of encryption and priority. This isn't going to be easy, huh. As expected of military-grade encryption.

Still, it wasn't like it was impossible.

After all, he could hear them talking from his hiding place.

When the three spoke to each other the use of comms was a necessity, due to their sealed helmets getting in the way. Of course, if they were close enough it wouldn't be a problem, but since their gear was designed for use in a vacuum as well, there was no point in relying on direct communication. It didn't matter how loud you shouted, in space, no one can hear you scream. The helmet's internal microphone picked up what the soldier said, encrypting the message quickly and transmitting it to the other two as they moved, giving Emiya both the original sound he could hear clearly with his superhuman senses, and the encrypted message he received with his cybernetics.

With both the original message and encrypted message for comparison, it wouldn't be impossible to crack it. But that would probably just be the first step.

Figuring out the key didn't take long with that, given how much chatter he had to use.

The problem was that the communication protocol only allowed for voice messages on their communications suite, leaving him with no method for hacking the soldiers' omnitools or tapping into the other communications. Not without using spiritual hacking and leaving behind his body, at least. Something he couldn't afford to risk, given how close to them he was at the moment.

The margin of error between picking up their signals and being picked up by their sensors was too fine to risk like that.

The first of the four encrypted means of communication deemed useless, he focused instead on the second; communications between the various fireteams. Filtering out most of the chatter regarding individual movements and positioning as the fireteam moved around, only the general position data and situation were being transmitted to the other teams.

"Crew quarters clear. Approaching storage section."

"Dmqe ibtmyqmg dlqtm. Toomntdjxkc gynmtcq gqdyxnk."

Emiya could hear the team leader speaking clearly, followed by an indecipherable mess of a signal, followed by him receiving a similar garbled mess in reply a second later. Okay, now I have a sample to work with... Hmm, breaking up again. Need to get closer.

"Advancing."

"Covering."

Following the distant sounds of armored feet along the hallway, Emiya kept low and silent. Encryption breaking really isn't my strong suit... he complained as he settled down again out of the line of sight of the Alliance soldiers up ahead, their voices loud and clear to his ears again.

"Clear."

Moving on to the next room, the three marines remained wholly unaware of their tail.

"This is taking too long..." Emiya grumbled, trying to keep his mind focused on both the encryption and listening to what the marines were saying.

"Eq wnbkz snmnwwg... Jq'g zqtz."

He perked up, straining his ears to try and catch the translated message coming through the soldiers' helmets. But it was simply too quiet, the volumes inside the hardsuits adjusted for being right next to the marines' ears.

"Tch..."

"Damn..."

The soldiers seemed to be angry and frustrated with the news they had received, but unable to hear what had been said, Emiya could only speculate on the 'why' as he continued to follow them. If only they would talk back more, a bigger sample would make this so much easier.

"Sq tzpxgqz. gxckg nw onggxslq jxcj qkqmch qvolngxpq nm yjqmutl zqpxdq tdyxptyxnk wnbkz."

The team stopped, as the team leader paused for a moment.

"Please advise on explosives and thermal hazard."

"Olqtgq tzpxgq nk qvolngxpqg tkz yjqmutl jtftmz."

Emiya's brows furrowed before he nodded to himself. They must have found where I killed Henell.

Ignoring the rest of the chatter that followed, he focused on the two samples he now had. Using not technique but intuition, he wrangled his own perception until the encrypted message began to sound like it made sense. Rather than seeking to derive the encryption key by breaking down the messages, it was simply easier for him to listen and figure out how the message had been scrambled.

It wasn't as if he had ever been an expert in encryption tech or that he knew even half of the methodologies that went into securing military communications... But with spirit hacking—understanding the digital directly—it was possible to derive the key through simple repetition and intuition.

"The damage appears to be localized to one hallway and the surrounding rooms, so we do not believe it was a mine or hidden IED of any kind. Given the sheer damage done to the floor and ceiling, we suspect that the device must have been fairly large, though we do not know what the active payload was yet. As such, you are all advised to maintain your hardsuits sealed and to report for a primary quarantine protocol upon your return."

Got it, Emiya nodded as his probe got through, and he managed to connect to a mainframe — The asari were being evacuated from the Dreyn N'var. Saren had pulled back and was maintaining radio silence with the Alliance. There didn't seem to be anyone looking for him among the Alliance teams on board the ship, instead, they seemed to be looking for survivors. None had been found, only mutilated and shot corpses remained. Alliance officers who had come aboard the cruiser had been found dead. They were investigating the scene of his fight with Henell.

"Hmm..." he pored over the data at his leisure, keeping up with the fireteam he had been following until now to maintain his connection through them, careful to remain unnoticed both in person and in his hacking of their communications.

Should he try to infiltrate the Alliance vessels, then? With the rest of the Alliance fleet keeping a close eye on the ship, it wasn't as if he could just leave. His jaunts along the hull had been noticed by at least three Alliance ships, so any attempt at trying to sneak away would certainly be noticed now that they were keeping their eyes open. He wasn't sure that he could hack that many starships' cameras at the same time without brute-forcing it completely, which made him leery of even trying.

And just staying behind wasn't going to be an option either.

Then, could he pose as an asari? Or should he try to project an Alliance hardsuit and try to fit in among the marines? With so many of them, he was sure he would be able to fit in unnoticed. At least until he managed to get aboard whatever Alliance vessel they were heading towards.

But then what?

After that, he would just be stuck on another Alliance vessel without any easy way out again. If he still had the invisibility cloak, it would be one thing. But as it was he could just forget about it. And without the cloak, he couldn't afford to get too close to the Alliance vessels without a strong enough cover to last until their next stop near a populated center of commerce. Somewhere where he could get off, vanish and get the medical attention he needed.

His vision swam for a moment as he forgot to stabilize his breathing. At the very least he needed medigel and other supplies to stabilize his condition. And the only place he was certain to find those within a few hundred light-years was onboard the Alliance warships.

Which means I need to don the guise of the Alliance Intelligence Agent and insert myself into their ranks again. It didn't seem like anyone had realized that it had been him, yet. Perhaps they were wondering where he had gone off to, but so far no one seemed to have made any official queries for the mysterious AIA agent. They're probably just happy I got out of their hair and didn't bother to look into it further... I hope.

If he couldn't simply leave without being noticed, nor could he hitch a ride among those being evacuated, then...

The solution seemed obvious, he thought with some trepidation.

Emiya shook his head ruefully as if convincing himself that it wasn't a big deal. Hadn't this been exactly what he had been thinking about on his way to Torfan? About boxing himself in by relying too much on his usual tactics?

Clenching a fist he nodded to himself. This would be it.

But he would have to make this good to sell it. Or rather, he would need to ham it up so that it would seem too big to be a sham. And while he was by no means an actor, he did have a certain flair for theatrics. It really was no different from swordplay—from building up expectations and forming false patterns to disguise your true intent, raising your opponent up just to bring them crashing down—once you thought about it from a certain perspective. Or so he told himself again.

"That means I'll have to send out invitations," he mused with the beginnings of a small grin peeking through.

;

Arnaut Kyle froze, causing Shepard to almost bump into his back.

The Major raised a hand to his forehead as his eyes stared at nothing, his mind obviously on whatever he was hearing through his ear-piece. With a grimace of uncertainty, he turned around and looked at her. He opened his mouth, standing on the edge of a question before he closed it with a click and turned around.

"Where did it come from? Right, and how didn't anyone notice it until now? Uh huh... Hail it again. They made the right call, we can't just shoot down an asari starship..." Kyle looked up, frowning at the people around him as he raised his helmet and put it on, continuing the conversation more privately.

Just then, Shepard's omnitool buzzed slightly. She looked down and blinked at the message. It was from Emiya. Opening the message, she eyed through the short paragraph. And then a second later it was gone; message, notification and all. Hastily lowering the omnitool, she tried to look around covertly to see if anyone had noticed her receiving the message. Her eyes met with Shiala's. A nearly-imperceptible nod and the asari moved up next to her.

Offering one shoulder for support, the whispered question was asked. "Is it him?"

Shepard nodded.

"He said he's leaving on his own ship and that everything is under control now."

The Matron nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit under Shepard's arm. "That's a relief. But how is he planning to leave on his ship? Will the Alliance not simply shoot him, if he tries to fly away?"

Shepard could only shrug, worrying over the very same question herself. Still... "He said that he had a plan."

;

The direct, short-range connection to the Janiri's Sickle went through, allowing Emiya to breathe out a sigh of relief.

"So far so good."

He had been slightly worried that the Alliance might simply blow up the Janiri's Sickle when he had recalled it for his ride. Especially as he had been maintaining nominal radio silence. That is to say, he had been using the Alliance ships' tightbeams to control the asari corvette and it would only be a matter of time until they realized something was off now that he no longer was in range with the marines' comms.

It couldn't be helped.

With most of the Dreyn N'var's systems still completely offline, it wasn't as if he could simply fly parallel with one ship and extend a docking ramp, as was done normally with a starship too big for the hangar. Especially as the cruiser had slowly begun to spin around on its own axis with the failure of its engines and the various boarding efforts. The autopilot was good on the corvette, but it wasn't that good.

Which meant he would have to jump through the void to board the Janiri's Sickle, letting it linger only for a few seconds on its parallel course with the asari cruiser. But that was fine; everyone would see that someone had boarded the suspicious corvette that had been ignoring all hails and warnings. Having modified the transponder signal and removed all external markers of the starship's name or origin, all they would see would be a strange asari ship being boarded by someone escaping the Dreyn N'var.

There was no way they wouldn't be curious. The purpose of the opening act is to arouse interest.

The airlock opened and the air rushed out, as he hadn't bothered to get the air pumps working again. It wasn't as if the asari evacuating would miss a few hundred liters of air. Emiya kept his hand on the side-rail as he peeked out, looking around until he found the Janiri's Sickle against the infinite darkness. Wirelessly reaching out until it was in range, he controlled it and used the thrusters to get it just a bit closer to his own position.

And then he jumped, kicking out of the cruiser and towards the corvette. Turning it around with the thrusters, he angled the Janiri's Sickle as he opened the hatch. Like a fish devouring an insect, the hatch closed behind him as the artificial gravity inside the corvette pulled him down to the floor. Air began hissing as the airlock was sealed.

They're hailing me again, he noted as combat sub-systems warned about the corvette being locked onto by the Alliance ships. Taking off the helmet, he shook his head as he sat down on the floor. It didn't particularly matter where he was, given that he was flying the corvette through his cybernetics. Okay, time for 'rising action'...

The tightbeam on his corvette aligned with Torfan, finding the settlement near the batarian base that he had settled on earlier. Five seconds later a shuttle on the ground began its boot-up sequence, the auto-pilot setting a course for the Alliance fleet. He thought about wiring the owner some money as compensation for the grand theft shuttle but decided against it for the moment. Better to not leave any obvious trails.

Another second later the shuttle from Torfan hailed the nearest Alliance vessel.

Then, with a slow inhale he untethered himself from his body, riding the connection into the shuttle. Materializing inside on the pilot's seat, he checked that his Onyx hardsuit disguise was fine and that his face was properly concealed. The Alliance vessel opened up a two-way comm-line and the visual feed revealed a uniformed woman with her hair tied in a tight bun, her face set in a stern scowl, no doubt intending to order him to turn around and keep a wide berth of the Alliance fleet.

But Emiya did not give her any time for that, speaking over the comms officer forcefully. "This is Alliance Intelligence Deep Cover Field Operative DCFP-A341CJS. Do not let that asari corvette take off! I repeat, do not let that asari corvette leave. Board it at any cost, but do not destroy it! The man who boarded that ship must be taken alive, no matter what! Do you copy?!"

The woman blinked, before turning around to talk to someone behind her. Probably a senior officer, who would know what to do. But he didn't wait—he didn't have time for long conversations, not with his spiritual core leaking as it was. "Just get it done, or I'll hold you all responsible for letting him get away!"

And then he cut the connection. Astralizing, he jumped back to his own body with only a few seconds to spare.

Opening his eyes, he breathed slowly as he waited for the order to circulate. A few seconds later the hails to the Janiri's Sickle doubled and several frigates began to move in towards him. They were gingerly surrounding him, carefully trying to cut any paths of escape off. It wasn't as if they could block him without risking their own ships if he tried to run off, especially given how large the engine was for a corvette. Its maneuverability was simply beyond them. If it came down to it, all they could do was shoot him.

But that was fine, he wasn't looking to actually run away with it or anything. He exhaled, standing up. "Now, where is my backstage entrance..."

The Alliance marines would board the corvette from the side, much as they had with the Dreyn N'var. A small shuttle would attach itself to the hull and then form a seal, as a shaped charge would blow a hole and allow the marines to rush in. The problem was that they could do that to nearly any surface, as long as it was large enough for the seal to be applied. Not knowing where they would be boarding in from was a problem, since he needed to avoid them long enough for 'himself' to board as well to complete the switch. If they came from the port-side, trying to hide there would only end with him being discovered and ruining his plot. This meant that he would have to keep the final details of his plan fluid until he knew which angle they were coming in from.

Focusing on the external sensors of the Janiri's Sickle, Emiya waited with crossed arms. His fingers, tap-tapped a frantic rhythm on his new Onyx hardsuit's bicep as he continued to ignore the hails and probes by the surrounding warships. Until finally, the Alliance made its move. They've launched the boarding pods... Looks like they'll go for the top of the ship, coming in and dropping down through the roof of the mess hall.

That left him with an airlock on the other side of the ship, near the stern. He kicked off the wall and rushed forward, mentally turning off all the lights behind him as he moved and opened the doors all over the corvette. "Lights out... the stage is set."

The whole ship shook for a second, as the pod latched itself onto the hull with magnetic clamps. A moment later the shaped charge blew a hole through, echoing through the ship at the same time as the breach's edges were sealed to allow the marines to board the corvette.

"The plucky heroes have arrived..." Emiya smirked, entering the airlock at the far end of the ship from the marines. Both doors closed, plunging him into the darkness between the silence of space and the cacophony of the boarding crew. "Time for the villain to take the stage."

He slumped, his astralized self already gone to confront his unwitting fellow actors.

;

"The 124th marines have entered the unidentified asari corvette, no resistance."

Kyle kept silent as he listened in on the comm chatter, saying nothing. That damn Alliance Intelligence agent had appeared again, suddenly ordering them to board the starship. A part of him felt relieved that someone else was suddenly taking the fore once more, as this would get his own neck off the chopping block. Especially since it wasn't as if they could simply let someone leave without at least being seen doing something.

But at the same time, he felt nervous about picking a fight with Redhax. The damage wrought to the asari—be it on Thessia, or on the cruiser—was proof enough that tangling with the hacker wasn't a good idea.

"Hurry up, hurry up," he said loudly, moving along the mass of asari that were being evacuated. They needed to be off this cruiser before the fighting started.

"Contact. Marines are meeting heavy resistance. Fou—five casualties, vitals holding stable."

Kyle could only sigh. This was just about what he had expected to happen.

Personally, he would have sought to merely contain the corvette by perhaps shooting out its engine and then maintaining a quarantine similar to the asari cruiser. That would give them the necessary time and space for handling Redhax with all the care and attention that he clearly deserved. That, and leaving them enough of a gap to cleanly pull out if it all spun out of control, just as it was appearing to now be doing.

But that man had other ideas.

Why was he down on Torfan? Didn't the AIA manage to contact him earlier? I thought they only gave me the authority to act because they had lost contact with their agent... He really had no idea what was going on.

Speaking of that particular devil...

"DCFP-A341CJS, boarding the unidentified asari vessel by starboard airlock. Rendering backup to marine boarding party in 20 seconds."

"Understood, sir. Casualties at 9 marines now, holding stable position."

He's really going in himself? Did those AIA lunatics actually go out of their way to look for chances to get into the thick of things? Shepard came to mind immediately, as she was a reliable—or rather had been, a reliable soldier, until Torfan where it was revealed that she too was working for the AIA. But the moment she had caught a whiff of Redhax down on Torfan, she had gone completely off, nearly on her own from what he had managed to gather after the fact. They're both hot-headed... Did they train together?

As a Major he wasn't entirely unaware of what the N-school graduates could do—what use was an officer who didn't understand what his subordinates could do, after all?—but much of what went down in the Villa itself was shrouded in mystery.

And there was a familiarity between the agent and Shepard that went beyond merely working together. A bond, forged by something more. Something deeper, he intuited.

"I'm inside. En route to render support to marine team now." Kyle frowned. Something had changed just now. It was the same voice, but something was subtly different. "I can't hear any more gunfire, what's going on? Sitrep, now."

"Sir, the marines managed to push forward. Hostile target has taken a defensive position in the cockpit."

Redhax had been holding the marines back at a chokepoint earlier, but he must have realized he was in danger of being flanked and had retreated into a position where he had his back against the wall—is what Kyle first thought.

But something felt off.

The hacker must value his mobility and multiplicity of options in any situation; holing up in the cockpit for a death-ground stand wasn't something he himself would do in that situation. Something else is going on. Stepping back out of the way, he pulled up the visual feed of an Alliance frigate with a scope on the action. The visual feed record of the frigate showed the civilian shuttle pulling up next to the asari corvette, followed by a man in an Onyx hardsuit jumping out and opening the airlock to enter the corvette, leaving behind the shuttle to drift in space. That's definitely the AIA agent, then what is it...? What's bothering me?

"Enemy combatant has surrendered."

Kyle froze, closing the visual feed record immediately and tapping into the live feed from the marines instead. Switching between the feeds, he found a good angle that showed the entrance to the cockpit and the point-man marine advancing towards the seated man in a unique black hardsuit, with a featureless matte black helmet.

"Easy, easy. I don't bite," the figure could be heard joking over the live feed.

"Shut up," the AIA agent growled, advancing with his pistol held raised and lined unerringly with the sitting man's head. "Get him up and search him. Get everything off of him and don't listen to a word he says, understood?"

This is a farce. Kyle thought with a frown. Something about this entire scene was off.

Suddenly, the hacker pulled out a gun and took aim at the marines, managing to pull off two shots that harmlessly splashed against kinetic barriers, before four bursts of concentrated assault rifle fire punched through his chest, knocking him back against the chair he had just gotten out of.

There was no kinetic barrier? Wait, all he had was a pistol? How did he hold off the marines...?

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" the AIA agent was shouting, rushing forward to catch the lifeless body of the hacker.

There's no blood?

The Major held his breath as the AIA agent set down the body, inspecting it for damage as he kneeled on the floor. Slowly, the agent's hand rose up to the helmet and after a second of gingerly looking for the latch, removed it. Kyle gasped, his surprise mixing in with those of numerous others as the AIA agent looked up at the marines.

The hardsuit was empty.

What the...?

"Search the ship! Right now, find him!"

The marines only hesitated for a second, before they all rushed to search the rest of the starship, leaving only one marine in the cockpit as the agent kept him from leaving immediately.

"You stay here, keep an eye on the bod—the hardsuit!"

"Sir. Major Kyle, sir."

Kyle blinked, hastily closing the visual feed to his helmet as he looked around. One of the marines who had come to the Dreyn N'var with him was standing in front of him, obviously slightly confused.

"Yes? What is it?"

Snapping back at attention at the sound of Kyle's reply, the marine answered. "Sir, we have all the asari on board now."

"Good. Good." Kyle nodded before pausing to consider his next move. There was nothing of value on the asari cruiser right now, but should he leave some of them behind just in case? "Have you found anything else aboard the ship?"

"No, sir."

"...I see. Then, we are pulling out as well."

The marine nodded and Kyle followed after him into the transport. But his mind was already back with the live feeds from the marines aboard the as yet unidentified asari corvette.

"Clear."

The corvette was a maze of dark hallways, each dark door beckoning at the wary marines, drawing the eye and nerve alike of all who were following this operation.

"Clear."

With methodical precision and practice that could only be borne of hundreds, if not thousands of hours of mindful repetition, the entire corvette was cleared. Every room, every airlock, every hatch, and corner was cleared.

"Clear."

Until finally there could be no doubt. Redhax was no longer on the ship.

"Where could he have gone...?" Kyle muttered, biting on his lip.

Rolling back the helmet videos, he traced the resistance the boarding marines had met. There had been lulls in the fighting, just seconds long, where the man presumed to be Redhax had seemed to vanish only to appear from a completely different direction to flank them. Injuries were light—broken helmets, concussions, and a few dislocated limbs—and no one had been seriously hit as their kinetic barriers held strong through the entire duration of the fight, but the pressure they had been met with had been considerable nonetheless. He could have moved around, through the ship, but this level of flanking... Is it possible to move that fast?

Closing momentarily the feed and looking around in the evacuation pod, Kyle frowned.

"Is something the matter?" the asari beside him asked.

He blinked, trying to remember her name for a second. "Shiala, was it?" Seeing her nod with a smile, he continued. "I couldn't help but note, that for the duration of the conflict and the number of combatants involved... There seemed to be an awful lot of damage done to the ship's insides."

"Ah... Yes?" She nodded again, this time appeared innocently confused by his question, that manner with which civilian women often seemed to react to military men. Without realizing it, he was slightly puffing out his chest as he continued.

"It seems to me, that the fighting was extremely wide-spread. More so than the number of asari on board would suggest. Did... Do you have some means of moving between walls, perhaps?" he asked, in an almost joking tone. Asari ships might be built with some method for going through internal walls—some form of half-phase barrier to fool and outmaneuver boarding parties. Some technology that is completely unheard of to humanity. I can't ask about this too lightly, but it does appear to be an asari ship too...

"Headcount! Everyone show your faces, does everyone know everyone else here? We can't rely on ID, but is there anyone here whose face you do not recognize, marines?!" Kyle could hear the AIA agent yelling over the comms he was still half-listening to, as the agent gathered everyone aboard the smaller asari ship together.

"You are referring to Biotic Blinking?"

Arnaut stilled, turning to regard the asari with his complete and undivided attention. "Blinking?"

"Yes, it is an advanced Biotic technique, somewhat similar to the Charge. Are you familiar with that?" she explained.

"The Charge...? I, yes. Yes, I know of it."

"The Blink is quite similar, but travel distance is quite limited in exchange for enhanced ability to phase through matter. It is how starships can use the Mass Relays over such immense distance safely as well without worry of collision, I believe."

Kyle rocked. Phase through matter? Why have I never heard about this?

"But, how is that possible?"

Shiala looked abashed as she shook her head. "I do not know the specifics, I am afraid. I believe it has to do with pushing into adjacent space in physical dimensions we simply aren't capable of observing normally. Taking the path from আ to ច, not through Ȝ, but 'ȝ' as it were..."

"Err..." He nodded turning away from Shiala, hoping that he at least understood the gist of her explanation even if she had slightly lost him towards the end, before looking at her again hastily and remarking with slight embarrassment. "Thank you."

Shaking his head minutely, he focused on the matter at hand.

If he can phase through matter, even at only short ranges, then... Kyle pulled up the visual feed from two of the Alliance frigates closest to the small asari ship. It's not there anymore. The shuttle the AIA agent had come up from Torfan with. It was gone.

Realization hit him with almost physical force. He reeled to act, sudden panic rising in his throat. "To all Alliance vessels, locate the civilian shuttle that was near the asari corvette immediately!"

He received a chorus of confused acknowledgments, as the mounting realization of having been played grew within him. Rewinding the footage, he went back to the moment the agent had jumped out and entered through the airlock and joined the marines. The shuttle had been in a nearly parallel course with the corvette. The keyword being nearly. The agent jumping out of the shuttle had pushed it away from the corvette, just as much as it had allowed the agent to approach the corvette. Within a minute it had deviated slightly and by a dozen it was gone from all scopes observing the asari starships, having drifted completely out of everyone's sights.

Five seconds later the shuttle was found, already a hundred thousand clicks from the asari ships in a spot where none of the spinal-mounted railguns were aimed, already out of the range of any of the close-range GARDIAN-lasers. It was slowly speeding up with thrusters, moving into the blind-spot the whole time.

"Stop that shuttle, before—"

"Took you guys long enough! Too bad, I'm already clear. See you around, everyone!" a new voice spoke through the comms and a second later the shuttle had gunned its engines, accelerating away much to fast for any warship to catch. Not being forced to turn to match his course first, anyhow.

"After him! Leipzig, Yorktown, pursue immediately! Do not let him escape!" the AIA agent roared from the asari ship, his anger such that even Kyle had to wince. But it was already too late; the shuttle was in full burn. They could give chase and there was no way the shuttle would be able to escape from so many Alliance starship's sensors, even if it tried to hide behind a planet or moon.

By conventional wisdom, there was no way that the shuttle could escape; the Alliance needed only to keep on his trail and spread out to make sure they didn't miss a change in course, and sooner or later the shuttle would run out of fuel. But Kyle's gut-feeling denied all that. Everything felt too out of place, too scripted for a conclusion like that. No, he was fairly certain that it would be a meaningless chase.

Redhax had managed yet again another daring escape. But at least Kyle wasn't going to be the one dealing with the fallout for this, as the AIA agent was making damn sure that everyone knew what was going on, apparently having forgotten in his rage that the marine helmet-mounted cameras were still recording him.

"Damn you, Redhax!" the agent shouted, punching the wall of the cockpit.

What a tool, was all Kyle thought with a pleased huff as he closed the video feed.

;

Benezia inhaled slowly as she entered the room.

A dozen eyes turned to regard her and the man behind her with quiet suspicion as they both entered. The Major snapped sharply at attention beside her, as she offered a courteous bow.

"Gentlemen, may I present my most heartfelt gratitude for all the help you have granted us. It is no exaggeration on my part to claim that my life was saved by your assistance today and I shall not forget that."

Some of them seemed to soften at that, while others silently scoffed and regarded her with only more suspicion. These Alliance types are certainly hard, she thought even as her smile never so much as wavered.

"Yes, of course. It was the least we could do, ma'am," the man sitting furthermost from the door said as he stood up.

Admiral Steven Hackett, commanding officer of the Fifth Fleet and the single-most experienced man in the whole Systems Alliance Navy. The rest of the room seemed to vanish from view as she focused solely on him; he was the only one in the room who truly mattered. Taking in every detail, every movement, every little thing of the man before her, she memorized and internalized his every facet at that moment.

"Go on, sit. I hear you have had a rather trying day, after all."

"Thank you," she said with a smile, even as she noted that the Major behind her was not offered the same courtesy. The Major acted on his own when he boarded? No, he would be in the brig if that were the case... Did he gain authorization to act from somewhere else, from someone outside of this fleet's chain of command? What intrigue we have here...

As the gathered introduced themselves promptly, Benezia considered the implications of what she had observed so far. After all, not much was known of the chain of command and internal political structure of humanity, given how little contact they had still had with the other races. Though the Embassy on the Citadel sported a united human front, salarian intelligence reports indicated a very fractured and divided state of affairs behind that united cover. But beyond that, there was very little to be said. The First Contact War had rather understandably left humanity quite wary of entering the galactic political stage and relatively few humans could claim any true familiarity with the other races yet.

Even among these heads of the fleet—men and women of power and prestige within the Alliance Navy—many could not help but stare at her. Had she been half her age, she might have preened under their undivided attention. But she was here on much too delicate a matter right now for such immature vanity.

Saren and Emiya were both still here, yet neither had sought to contact her or the Alliance heads. Be it out of a trust in her ability to handle the diplomatic side of things or a simple lack of care, it had fallen to her to keep things from spiraling out of control now. How much could she tell them? How much did the Citadel Council know? What had Emiya and Saren planned?

"Let us not beat around the bush, ma'am—what exactly happened on board your ship? I have been informed that none of the asari rescued from the batarians are among those evacuated, and that a Spectre has a personal warship parked right next to our fleet in complete radio silence..." One of the officers stated suggestively, as she finally tuned into the conversation again.

Despite everything she knew and all the power she wielded, she was effectively just as in the dark as those sitting before her here were. Yet it fell to her to keep things calm and maintain as many bridges as possible, for when Saren or Emiya—hopefully, both—finally thought to contact her and bring her up to date on their plans. Did they wish to reveal to the rest of the galaxy what was going on? Did they wish to keep their cards close to their chest for a while longer and downplay the events?

She was certain that those two had their own, equally stubborn and inflexible points of view that had to be settled before things could truly begin moving forward. That or one of them would kill the other. Regardless, she had to keep their options open. This meant that she had a room full of very annoyed and inquisitive people to talk down and satisfy without saying anything that she might later have to contradict once she knew what either or both of those blockheads wanted to do.

"Oh, that very much depends on your definition of 'happened', you understand," she exclaimed with a disarming laugh. It was a good thing that waxing poetic about nothing at all for hours on end was one of her most well-practiced talents, then. "You see, it all began with a very nice dinner party, that..."

;

Shepard let out a long sigh of relief as she felt the painkillers hit, dropping into her bloodstream and filtering into her brain like a jackhammer made out of foam. Or cotton candy, she mused already growing slightly delirious. Her limbs—all knotted muscle and aching bone seconds before—felt as if they began to melt into the medical bunk she was lying in as the medic hovered over her, all disapproving tuts and frowns.

The female doctor, a middle-aged woman with an almost regal bearing here in her kingdom, tutted disapprovingly again as she fussed over Shepard's leg with a variety of instruments. She was saying something, asking questions and giving furtive glances, but Shepard was too far gone to pay any of that any attention.

It was good to be back on board an Alliance ship; the familiar internal design and hum of engines doing more for her peace of mind than she had ever before thought possible. The return to the familiar and safe doing as much for her as the drugs she was being administered. The ache and grinding in her leg vanished in a wave of hot bliss and numbness, allowing her to finally relax for the first time in hours. A distant—and most likely drug-fueled at the moment—part of her mind wondered whether there was something primal in the human subconsciousness, that likened the inside of a spaceship to a mother's womb.

The thrumming of the engine and the heartbeat...?

Shaking her head out of such thoughts, she looked up. The Alliance medic hovered over her, talking a mile a minute, but she still couldn't hear any of it past the sheer bliss she was experiencing. Bulkhead shifted into wall which morphed into floor, all in one flowing river of shapes and colors that failed to stand out as they should.

Looking around, her focus shifted as her senses kept getting distracted.

Around her there were dozens of asari as well, those among the evacuated who had injuries more serious than mere bumps and bruises, receiving first aid. It was slow going, Shepard distantly noted. Most of the Alliance medical personnel would never have had to treat an alien before, but luckily they had some files on hand and the medical personnel from the Dreyn N'var were still capable of taking the lead on that front.

Floating in her own mind, viewing the scene from behind her own eyes as if she had taken a step back into a spectator's seat, she looked on at everyone else around her.

The asari looked harrowed. Haunted.

The medical personnel looked tired, too. Drawn out and stretched too thin. She didn't recognize any of them, besides the ship's doctor who was still hovering over her. It must have been the personnel from the other starships and those who had been down on Torfan earlier. Right, they haven't had any breaks since the operation down on Torfan... she realized belatedly.

She wasn't sure which she felt worse about—her mind seemed to right itself, as suddenly a burst of clarity brought her back to a more stable frame of mind. She blinked, looking around.

"Is that better? Answer verbally if you can, Lieutenant."

"Uh, yeah..." Shepard answered after a long and confusing second, realizing that she had just been conked out of her mind. A quick glance at the clock told her that she hadn't been out for it for more than a minute, at most, even if in her perception it had felt like a day already. Blinking, she noted that her leg didn't hurt either, meaning that the dosage of whatever she was one must have been adjusted to a happy medium now. "I mean, yes ma'am."

The medic nodded, tapping away at her datapad as she did some final adjustments. "Good. You were getting close to organ rejection there, but it looks like you didn't quite cross that line yet." Looking up, their eyes met as the doctor expressed her utmost disappointment with Shepard. "I'm sure you were already informed after the operation of the dangers of strenuous physical activity, therefore I will have to place a strike on your medical history."

Shepard frowned, about to argue that it wasn't as if she had exactly had a choice in the matter, but deciding instead to simply keep quiet. Doctors generally took it poorly when you argued with them, even if it was about your body. Well, technically the new organs were on lease for another month, but that was beside the point.

"How are the others?" she asked instead.

"Others?" The medic looked up with a frown, then looked around as if to show that she could see for herself. "Bumps and bruises. The mental trauma appears to be the worst of it. It's almost good how few injured there are—Looking at how confused and jumpy our personnel are, I don't think we could handle very many seriously injured asari the same way we could human injured. Textbook learning and actual experience are, as always, two very distinct things. Especially pertaining to alien physiology, where hands-on experience really is key."

Shepard only half-listened to the doctor's almost-maternally-amused talking, as she kept looking around the temporary sickbay.

But she couldn't find Boroffs or the others, no matter where she looked. She hadn't heard anything about them, either. Were they on another ship? Frowning, she tried asking again. "I mean, the other Alliance officers. Commander Boroffs was there as well, at the dinner party, but he didn't evacuate in time. How is he, do you know?"

"Boroffs?" The doctor's frown deepened, but she raised her datapad and began to scroll through a list. Finally, she looked up and shook her head. "He isn't here."

"Then, is he on another starship?" Shepard asked, already dreading the answer.

"I don't know, it doesn't say... Oh, excuse me," she said and turned to join another medic who was waving at her to come over, leaving Shepard to process the non-answer.

Did... did they die?

Raising a hand to palm her face, she sighed, barely able to contain all the conflicting thoughts running through her head.

"God damn it..."

The remnants of the warm bliss that had coursed through her whole body washed away with hot shame and bitter frustration, entangling thoughts turning two-fold as she tried to think through the events of the past few hours.

Was there more she could have done?

She tried to think back, but it was all a jumbled mess in her head. Had she been wearing her hardsuit the whole time, she could have accessed the footage from her helmet and reviewed the events, but as it was she could only try to piece things together from memory. No one had even come to debrief her regarding what had happened, she realized with a startle.

What the hell was everyone doing?

Kyle and Benezia had both left for another ship, that much she remembered at least, to meet with the Admiral.

But what about Emiya?

Emiya, who hadn't lost his head for a moment, who had managed to save everyone, who had managed to come out completely unscathed. She clicked her tongue, raising a hand to cover her face as she remembered her worried plotting behind Major Kyle, even after she had given the man her word. Her desperate ideas to help Emiya out, thinking that he was going to be left behind on the Dreyn N'var. And the deflating realization that he had managed to get out completely on his own, boarding the Alliance starships and slipping back into his role as... her, more or less.

What had she been thinking, trying to help him?

Miserable, broken and helpless Shepard?

Trying to help him?

She'd felt so proud about getting him and the asari to sit down. Those thrills of pleasure at seeing him so nonplussed around her. The feeling of fulfillment at being someone he could rely on; having him trust his back to her without hesitation.

A thousand emotions warred within until finally, everything coalesced into a molten core of something. Hot anger. Disappointment. Expectation. He had died once, leaving her behind with nothing but that desire to catch up to his back and to run past him. To be able to turn around and dance and laugh, keeping up with him stride for stride.

And she had thought...

Had she been complacent? Had she stopped or slowed down, somewhere along the way? Or... Or was he just beyond her reach?

Shepard looked around. Somehow that comforting familiarity from before had turned around on her now. Pressing down on her from all sides. Blinding her. Suffocating her. She felt helpless. Useless. Like there was more she should be doing, that she wasn't doing enough.

"What is it? Do you feel ill?"

She looked up, realizing that her dark thoughts had somehow managed to alert the doctor who had returned to her side. Which only, in turn, made her feel worse as she could see the countless behind him, still in need of medical assistance.

She wet her lips and the words came tumbling right out, like a reflex.

"No, no—I'm fine."

At the same instant, as the medic nodded with a smile, all too happy to move on, she realized that she desperately needed to sort her head out and figure out her next move. And she hated that she had to think of it in those terms, like she was back on Earth, back on those dilapidated streets and housing projects, playing various two-bit players against each other just to make through another day.

The weight of betrayal hung around her neck, heavy like a millstone.

She hadn't joined the Systems Alliance Navy for a family or loyalty, but that was what she had found. But Emiya's situation and the enormity of what he was dealing with... And what about Benezia, Anatha, Tryna, Shiala, Major Kyle and Captain Anderson? She was going to have to talk to Emiya about this, and soon.

She groaned quietly under the weight of it all. "And I have no idea where he even is right now..."

With her luck, he was already halfway across the galaxy.

Her omnitool beeped and she blearily looked down at her arm, half-hoping, half-expecting it to be Emiya. When the title of the message jumped out at her, she sighed and slumped against the cot.

Oh great, court-martial hearing at Arcturus Station. She almost laughed at the tragicomedy of it all—any other day, for anyone else, it would be a career-ending worry. But right now, it really was the least of her worries.

;

Emiya kicked back, finally allowing himself to relax inside the privacy of the sleeping pod.

Not that he intended to stay for long or to actually rest, but getting off his feet for a short while felt like heaven after the day's events. But just being able to get his weight off of his feet and lie on his back, without having to use his hands to touch anything either as he simply lay there and used his cybernetics was a welcome relief. It wasn't helping the pain, but it was a respite nonetheless from the constant ache that threatened to force his body into shock constantly. But despite it all, somehow, what bothered him the most—the worst of it all—was his throat. Having to speak in a tone of voice different from his usual to avoid being too obvious, and having to pretend to be outraged at having been duped so badly and acting the part of the agent had put a strain on his throat.

A tickling pain that threatened him with another coughing fit, which would disrupt his breathing; the only thing which was keeping him from going into shock at the moment.

Maybe I went a little overboard with the theatrics...

Carefully coughing to clear it again, he focused on his work anew.

He still felt slightly awkward, butting in on the hot bunk schedule on the Alliance warship, leaving more than one disgruntled grunt standing around in the crew quarters without a place to sleep after a long day, but he really needed the privacy for a moment. Still, he kept his ears and... digital ears?, on the ground for anything noteworthy. Having turned the pod-screen opaque and now armed with a high-speed connection to the Orizaba's systems, he could think and plan here without worry of being found or bothered.

On the one hand, he could just leave.

It had worked so far with every other mess he had managed to kick up.

That would certainly be the easiest and quickest way out of this mess. Grab enough medical supplies to keep himself stable until he got to the nearest human settlement with proper facilities for grafting back the skin on his limbs, along with any tools he might think necessary for fixing his cloak.

The Alliance wasn't looking for him and no one was in any immediate danger anymore, as far as he could tell. That fight down on Torfan aside, but that didn't seem to be directly related to anything he had been dealing with. Benezia and Saren could coordinate to handle any fallout, too, surely.

But those were only the immediate problems.

If he simply took off, this whole incident would be grouped in with everything else Redhax had done. After all, Saren was still a turian working for the Citadel. It wasn't likely that he would share information regarding Indoctrination with the Alliance brass. At least, not before his own superiors were aware of the issue. Maybe the Council already knew, maybe they didn't.

Emiya didn't find it likely, though.

Not unless Benezia had been lying to him, anyhow. He sighed, shaking his head as he decided. "I went through the trouble of getting here... Might as well make use of the job's perks."

The Systems Alliance Navy had protocols for dealing with most of the hazards involved in combat and spaceflight. Microbial, viral and bacterial hazards were easy enough, given how large of a part they had played in human warfare for decades before spaceflight. The dangers of radiation and element zero exposure had also been explored in great detail since humanity had taken to truly moving beyond their own solar system. Even propaganda and memetic hazards had their own protocols, all outlined in the manual he could still remember from back when he had been in basic. With the access he now had, he could see it had been updated since—or then his higher clearance merely allowed him to read through chapters too advanced for mere recruits.

It didn't really matter, he just needed them for a framework.

Using those protocols as an outline, he should be able to submit a report on countering Indoctrination and handling of possible Indoctrinated individuals.

Though it wasn't as if he had any definite solutions or tools for protecting individuals from Indoctrination or for easily detecting those who had already been affected. Or for actually convincing anyone who read his report to believe him. But he couldn't just do nothing, either.

Maybe I could use Benezia's reputation to give it proper credence? The Matriarch was in a meeting with several of the Alliance bigwigs at the moment and he had no interest in getting involved with that. But for the sake of informing the Alliance on how to deal with this new danger, he might not have a choice in the matter. Though, I could also be forcing Saren's hand if I go through with it...

He mentally weighed his options for a moment, before he sighed again. If there was something to be gained by keeping the information hidden, he would, of course, consider it. But he couldn't allow himself to be paralyzed by possibilities, given how virulent and dangerous this Indoctrination could be. If there was no pressing reason to hide the danger, then he would have to reveal it to the world.

Otherwise, all those who suffered from it then on would be his victims, as much as they were Indoctrinations.

Emiya blinked as another burst of chatter caught his attention on the digital side of things. The Alliance was sending marines down to Torfan again, for some reason. And not to the areas they had taken control of during the earlier operation. He frowned, digging a little bit deeper and found where they would be landing.

It was the compound he had visiting before he had found the batarian installation. There had been an ongoing gunfight there now for close to half an hour, that was showing no signs of petering down any time soon.

Calling up a visual feed from the installation, he paused at the sight of the familiar gigantic figure running through a wall as if was made out of plaster instead of reinforced plastics and filament. "That krogan?"

For a moment Emiya considered moving out to subdue the dinosaur-guised-force-of-nature himself, but then he thought better of it. Redhax had already escaped and he as the AIA agent wouldn't care about that. Still, it wasn't as if he could just ignore it all. Reviewing the video footage he quickly found that while the krogan was more than happy to respond to all challenges with overwhelming violence, he hadn't instigated the fight.

Not at first, anyhow. The initial attempt had been completely out of the blue, but as it had escalated the mercenary had more than taken to getting everyone involved in the gunfight. It was pure chaos, and the mercenary was obviously enjoying it very much.

"Someone is trying to kill him?"

That didn't make much sense to Emiya, but he couldn't exactly claim to know the krogan either.

Should he intervene, or leave it be? The krogan was undeniably a force of nature on-screen, but the Alliance marines weren't the type to back down from a fight if they found a half-decent excuse for having one. Even if there was a morbid sense of curiosity welling within him, he had never been the type to simply watch things from the sidelines.

Ultimately, annoyance won out—all of this would just distract the Alliance from more important things if it was left to play out.

Patching through, Emiya asked with all the annoyance he could muster. "Is this really necessary?"

There was only the slightest hint of surprise visible in the krogan's reactions in the live-feed. But a second later the mountain of armor, bone, and muscle vaulted over a large work surface with a deep, almost thrumming, chuckle. "No. But sometimes these things are done for pleasure. Beats drinking the day away any day!"

Apparently the krogan was not entirely unused to being surprised, the hacking into his comms not even causing a second's skip in a beat in the raging firefight.

"Why are they even here? They approached you for no reason, from what I could tell."

"Who knows. Maybe I stole a job of theirs, maybe I blew off the head of their father fifty years ago. It's not worth paying attention to every gnat and pyjak." The loud roaring of the massive shotgun indoors along with the faint screams of panic and pain in the background capitalizing the krogan's statement.

Emiya finally sighed.

He really didn't need this right now. "Okay, here's the deal. I get you into a shuttle and out of there. In return, you stop and get to live."

"Hehehe, but it's finally getting to the good part."

"If by 'the good part' you mean 'facing the entire Alliance marine corps in orbit still itching for a fight after taking out the batarians', then yes. You're absolutely right; things are about to get very good in a few moments," Emiya dead-panned, finally getting a reaction out of the krogan.

"...You've got an in on the Alliance feeds?" He actually sounded slightly impressed. "So you're the one behind the number done on those batarian whelps. Heh..."

Emiya tensed, confirming his suspicions that the krogan wasn't merely some dumb muscle. Krogan can live just as long as the asari, he hadn't forgotten that. But the laid back, seeming devil-may-care attitude had almost convinced him otherwise already. He would have to be more cautious with their ilk in the future—should have been more careful now— and should not have contacted the krogan directly at all, instead simply guiding the Alliance to handle the matter from behind the scenes to minimize casualties and collateral damage.

His condition was making him sloppy. Gritting back a frustrated sigh at his slip up, he instead changed the subject to salvage the situation.

"You have ten seconds."

The response was immediate, suggesting to him that the other had already made up their mind seconds ago. "Fine, fine. Blasting pyjaks is fun, but burning credits is never a good habit... Lead the way, human."

Emiya did sigh this time again. It wasn't the cleanest solution, but from where he stood the krogan did appear relatively innocent. Besides, he did owe a slight debt thanks to the earlier tip, too. Getting the krogan out was just a matter of setting the pieces in place and plotting another escape plan now that he had agreed.

Emiya was starting to become very good at fabricating escape plans he realized with a silent chuff.

"There. Stay out of trouble and you won't hear from me again, krogan."

"Heh, don't be so sure, human. The galaxy is a small place for people like us." The krogan rumbled another round of chuckles, like grinding boulders. "Oh, And you're buying the next round."

Emiya didn't bother answering, simply cutting off the commline. There was too much stuff he still needed to get done. Though he wouldn't have said no to a shot of ryncol right then and there, however.

"Cheeky toad."

But something about this interaction scraped at the edge of his attention. Frowning, he tried to run through his mental checklist of things to take care of. Finally, he shook his head. Just focus on this and get through for the Alliance, then focus on the rest.

Indoctrination was turning out to be an even bigger headache than he had first thought, especially as there were no easy methods for confronting or handling—

"The geth...!"

Saren had said the geth could handle the source of the Indoctrination, hadn't he?

Did that mean the little AIs were immune to the effect? Could the little balls of light he had seen be immune to the qualia corrupting effect, much like how they would be immune to most—if not all that he knew of—biological viruses simply through their synthetic nature? Or given the turian's apparent lack of concern for the individual programs had he instead meant, that identifying and getting rid of the infected before they posed a problem would be easier? That the ability to 'lift the hood' and take a direct look at the individual geth to detect any issues, which wasn't practically feasible with most organics, just made it easier to find them? And that deleting a corrupted string of ones and zeroes was less of a hassle than getting rid of a flesh and blood person?

Certainly, at the very least Emiya could see either possibility being a massive boon in any quarantining or eradicating effort against Indoctrinated organics who were already too far gone for help.

He hesitated, indecision and calculation battling it out. If he accepted that paradigm then much of what he had written and planned to write for the Alliance might be useless. Rather than trying to adapt the Alliance tactics around the dangers of indoctrination, would it be better to instead build tactics around the geth and the Spectre instead?

But what kind of exchange was that? Should he consider the ratio to be one-to-one for organic and synthetic life, as he had now come to view them? As far as he had observed so far, singular geth programs had very little in the way of intelligence, scarcely being even sentient. Was there some threshold that should be reached before a geth became more, a critical mass at which binary became a being? And so long as those condemned to be formatted back into nothing numbered below that, did it constitute a lesser loss? Akin to cutting off a limb to save a life?

Emiya could foresee a thousand caveats and loopholes through with which he could justify to himself sacrificing countless synthetic instances to nothingness, so long as it was only done piecemeal. A death of a thousand cuts a thousand times—one geth here, another there, and before you knew it...

He would again be standing on mountains of corpses, drenched in oceans of blood. Only this time he would have convinced himself he wasn't. The thought alone made him nauseous.

Should he ask the geth what they thought of the matter...?

Sighing deeply, he shook his head. Their answer ought to be obvious, he thought. Hadn't the geth already fought a war against their creators due a similar enough question once before?

Besides, it was a meaningless question at this time.

That kind of solution would just create as many problems as it solved if applied on a larger scale. Artificial Intelligences were simply too taboo, and no one would accept their 'help'. No one would accept geth aid to fight Indoctrination. In the public's eye, it would seem like too radical a tool for the problem—accepting an arguably even greater evil to combat an as-of-yet unknown danger.

He would have to bring it up with Saren if things worked out and see what the Spectre had to say on the matter. That, and asking how exactly the Artificial Intelligences had come to work with the Spectre in the first place. Did the geth ask him the same question...?

For now though...

"Hey. You worked out your side of the deal, so I'm letting you go now. As agreed," Emiya vocalized inwardly at the numerous geth he had already completely forgotten about. In his defense, it wasn't as if there was any physical sensation to remind him of his passengers, and his unique possession of his body meant that the cybernetic parts weren't strictly necessary for his continued existence. That, and he was still in considerable pain and dealing with far too much for his liking.

He somewhat understood that they had heard him and were now convening again and debating something, in that confusing and haphazard way of theirs.

Still, just forgetting about the geth that he had saved and the geth that he had technically kidnapped did make him feel slightly guilty. "Everyone, uh... alright?"

Yes

Came the immediate reply from within, unanimous and clarion-clear.

Well, at least they don't seem too bothered by getting kidnapped, Emiya thought dryly to himself as he realized that he could not even differentiate between those whom he had met aboard the asari cruiser and those he had taken directly from Saren. Wincing to himself again, he wondered what they would tell the turian about all of this and wondered whether letting them go was really the right call.

But with a sigh, he dismissed those worries. He had given his word already.

"Alright, I'm going to upload you to the local data relay hub on Torfan. Try not to get into any more trouble, alright?"

All data accrued and disseminated must be passed on

Emiya nodded hesitantly, not quite sure what they meant before he felt foolish about performing gestures in meatspace to entities bound strictly to the digital plane. "Right, anyhow."

Without standing on any unnecessary ceremony, he simply dropped the numerous programs into the civilian extranet and then closed the connection to the Alliance warship behind them. He wasn't sure whether that would stop the disparate AI from accessing the starship, nor whether he shouldn't have just uploaded them straight to Saren's systems.

But he figured they could handle themselves from here.

Besides, he was already running late—Benezia had been holding the fort on her own long enough already. He hoped the Matriarch wouldn't be too mad about his lateness, but he still needed to wrap up these files.

Then, it would be showtime. Again.

;

Benezia's strained smile didn't so much as twitch, even as the blustering military officer sat down after his loud tirade.

"I understand that we are all very tired, nevertheless—"

"You won't tell us a damn thing, is that it?" the man in question angrily asked again.

"I would not go quite so far as to say that. We are all friends here and there is no need for such hostility—"

Half of the men in the room threw up their hands, their exasperation and end of patience obvious. Slightly more patient than salarians. As temperamental as the turians, but less controlled in their anger. More likely to lash out, won't do to push too hard. This was a valuable experience, given how little contact there had been with humanity since their entry on the galactic stage outside of the Citadel and trade.

The door opened and several heads turned to see who was interrupting, annoyance and irritation both seeking acceptable targets for venting. Benezia, facing away from the door opted to instead observe and catalog the various people in the room.

"I see that you have already begun without me," a familiar voice spoke and Benezia tensed just the slightest. She too turned now, almost hesitant to see whether her ears were playing her. "It doesn't matter. Matriarch Benezia, what have you told them?"

She licked her lips, now suddenly in between a rock and a hard place as Emiya asked that. Was he asking for a summary, or putting her on the spot? She laughed lightly, deflecting easily. "Nothing that you will find acrimony with, I hope."

"Who are you, to—"

"Alliance Intelligence. My name is not important and you'll find that my... qualifications for taking part in this meeting are more than sufficient," Emiya said as he walked to the table, tossing a datapad to the center with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "If you wish to debate the finer points you may do so on someone else's time."

A large screen behind Admiral Hackett flared to life, surprising a few of the officers. If it weren't for the tension, Benezia would have smiled at how the heads seemed to be turning to and fro in perfect unison to Emiya's pace. So this is how he usually does it. He has been so guarded with me, that I was beginning to wonder...

"Wait, you're the one who bungled up on that asari corvette. The one chasing after that asari hacker?"

Asari hacker?

Emiya stood perfectly still, staring down the officer before coolly answering. "Any information pertaining to ongoing investigations by the Alliance Intelligence Agency into any persons of interest is on a strictly need-to-know basis. Any requests for information regarding the subject may be directed to the head office of the Alliance Intelligence Agency on Arcturus Station. In short, sit down and shut up."

"Now, look here you—"

Benezia almost laughed out loud but was glad to note that no one noticed her twitch.

"Two days ago, at 15:31 Navy time during the operation down on Torfan, I called a complete quarantine on the lowest level of the primary target installation," Emiya droned on as he walked around the table with slow, circumspect steps. Stalking around them, towering above all in the room in both stature and presence at that moment. "Measures, which I have since come to realize might not be adequate as the disaster that struck the asari cruiser Dreyn N'var has since demonstrated." At this, he inclined his head towards her which caused all eyes to turn her way once more. A heavy, curious but still unknowing silence settled on the room, allowing him to continue. "The purpose of this debriefing is to clarify and set in place the beginning of a primary means for containment and handling of any future Indoctrination events."

"Indoctrination?" Hackett asked, finally establishing a foothold of his own in the conversation.

Unlike the other officers, Benezia noted, he had sat back and observed the new arrival with a cool distance that belied his actual import. This was a man not wont to easily speak out or waste words. And now with a single word he had set the tone for the rest of the officers and the way the rest of the meeting would play out; they would not be dismissing Emiya's words out of hand now. A fact she was quite glad for, wishing for no one to have to experience again the events she had just suffered through. So this is how he plays it—a man of compassion and conscientiousness.

It was fascinating, watching the effect of that one word ripple out through the gathered humans. At a surface level, their rigid hierarchy and military decorum reminded her of the turians and she had to wonder if that were due to their first contact, or due to an older tradition. But even cursory observation revealed a multitude of attitudes among the lower-ranked officers—exasperation, curiosity, disinterest, and excitement—which would have been unthinkable among the turian military. They're quite similar to the salarians, but without the biological reinforcement of the imprinted mothers to enforce order or the habit of devolving into meaningless discussions and debates. I wonder how their tendency towards groupthink would compare to them, or even us...?

Benezia sighed—If only she were still a Matron, or even just a hundred years younger... What a time she would have getting to know these humans more intimately.

But she had greater responsibilities now, she reminded herself as she returned her attention to the discussion.

For now, Emiya had the floor and their attention.

"Yes. A term designated by the turian Spectre—Saren Arterius—which at this time may still be changed. I have prepared a preliminary protocol for the command-level officers at this time, but I must stress that it is mostly conjectural and remains clinically untested at this time."

The Admiral said nothing, his wrinkled countenance like carved stone.

"So the Citadel knew about this?" a voice asked from the side as if delighting in that realization.

Benezia almost frowned at that. She couldn't allow this to become a political cudgel for the Alliance to wield. What was Emiya thinking, using the Spectre's name like this? Had they really met? She couldn't even imagine how that meeting had gone down, given their headstrong natures and the sheer chaos they had been embroiled in. She realized with hollow understanding that the turian could already be dead and she would have no way of knowing, given what she knew of Emiya's abilities.

The man in question, however, didn't even bother to acknowledge the comment as he moved on.

"To classify the Indoctrination phenomenon for the benefit of ground personnel, I have used existing nuclear, biological and chemical protocols as a basis, thus very little new training should be necessary for immediate action—but for the command-level officers, I must stress that the means of contamination and propagation for Indoctrination are still unknown and the existing protocols probably will not be sufficient by themselves. Therefore I have appended modified propaganda and memetic containment measures as further reading, which will be necessary for understanding and combating it in the field."

"You're making this sound as if it's an immediate threat, even during short-term operations?" An older female Captain commented as Emiya paused for a moment. Noticing his lull in presentation, she continued. "How are propaganda and memetic measures to be used in the field? During extended operations, previous inoculation and positive reinforcement will weaken, this is of course known. Are you suggesting we play propaganda films and morale-raising material during operations directly into every soldier's helmet displays?"

Some chuckled at the obvious jest.

"Rear control units outside of the operating theater will have to be established, that will run control questions and monitor physicals as necessary. The counter-espionage and malicious agent screening protocols can be modified for real-time use as well," Emiya answered calmly.

The captain scoffed, apparently not satisfied or amused with what she was hearing.

"Those tests must be exercised under carefully controlled conditions, with long controls and checks to ensure accuracy. How do you expect it to work during an operation? Do you intend for marines to be answering questionnaires while under fire?"

The round of chuckles followed her reply again, as if on cue.

He shook his head and answered. "As the victims grow increasingly erratic, their ability to maintain their identity weakens immensely as their qualia are slowly corrupted. Rigorous control will not be necessary during operations, as they are likely to even become unable to answer simple questions such as what is their name, or date of birth, accurately. I will expand on that more in a moment..."

"That's ridiculous," someone opined as they threw back their hands. "What are we talking about here; hypnosis?"

"During combat, things will be different, however." Emiya continued coolly. "In a soldier turned under fire the effects are likely to be extreme, likely resulting in feral behavior and their turning on their fellow soldiers on the spot. At which point, any rear control action will be useless."

Those words hung in the air as everyone processed what they had just been told.

"...You're really are talking about brainwashing, aren't you?" a cooler head, a tan Captain with sour expression who had been quiet until now Benezia noted, questioned.

"In essence, yes. An Indoctrinated subject's memories have become scrambled and corrupted, to use simple terms. Their ability to reason and understand their surroundings decreases proportionally to the rate at which they have been affected. At this time the process appears to be quite random, resulting in the destruction of the subject's personality, leading usually to their death..."

Saying that the screen that had been on but blank finally began showing images. A batarian lying on a roughly hewn stone floor, his skull and brain splattered over the floors and wall. There was a hush, as nearly everyone froze at the unexpected and grotesque image.

"...Through either self-destructive tendencies as the subject grows increasingly erratic, possibly due to a conflict between the base personality and the invading influences, or due to a directive by the corroding effect."

"Directive...?" The sheer horror in the word that Benezia uttered made everyone turn and look at her with surprise. She realized she was shaking slightly. With an apologetic nod, she motioned for Emiya to continued as she lowered her hands beneath the table.

"Alternatively, indoctrinated subjects may also become highly aggressive and begin working together towards a common cause."

Benezia's stomach clenched as she knew what would come next.

A video began playing, showing rabid and frenzied asari tearing apart their former friends and comrades. Familiar faces, twisted in mindless fury and betrayed fear tore at her and she had to look away. She could feel the eyes of the humans on her now, but she couldn't quite compose herself with the loss still so raw.

"Worse yet, this is only the beginning, I suspect."

The video changed again, this time showing two asari sitting together in what looked like a mess room, laughing and talking to each other without care. Even without sound, it was just an everyday scene of two friends conversing.

And then suddenly one of them stopped.

There was a second of confusion. And then violence, blood, and death.

"Those infected may not show any outwardly observable signs of mental regression or compromise, acting as sleeper agents until triggered. While in this state they may apparently retain all of their faculties and even emotions, the conflicting memories, and personality changes either wholly sealed away or directing the subject's actions with purpose. I suspect that a slower process of corruption allows the victim's psyche to 'heal' over the breaks, allowing them to remain apparently unaffected until triggered."

"Mother of God..."; a silent, horrified whisper, halfway between a prayer and a plea.

"Certain subjects—possibly dependent on predisposing physiology—may also experience physical mutations."

This time she was prepared. Or she thought she had been, as the twisted and corrupted visage of her old friend was even beyond what she had seen before. "Oh, Nirida..."

"At this time, I am working together with Spectre Arterius to investigate and handle this matter directly. But in the case of additional incidents, as I have already stated, I have prepared protocols for containing and handling Indoctrinated cases." Emiya came to a halt at the end of the table again, finishing with his presentation. "I have sent the document to each of you. Read it with care and do not distribute it incautiously. The primary outlines are for the detection of indoctrinated personnel, and for the containment and disposal of any such risks.

"Disposal...? Is there no way of reversing, or—or, curing this?"

"At this time, no."

Emiya's cold voice cut their hopes down like an executioner's blade, leaving only a cold fear pooling in their guts.

Taking his datapad again, he continued as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Primary means of detection for compromised personnel will be based on the personnel's use of omnitools and subsequently obtained telemetry. Since at this time it does not appear as if Indoctrination is being used for subversion or infiltration, the primary vector that must be guarded against is accidental exposure. Due to this, maintaining an in-depth file on the personal lives and personalities of all personnel becomes a matter of major importance."

"What?"

"One method with which it may be possible to detect indoctrination is cross-referencing date on hand with personnel directly, as due to the mnemonic contamination it may be possible to detect irregularities in memory. Remembering events that did not happen, acquiring the memories of events from other indoctrinated, the inability to distinguish one's own actions from those of others, confusing another's spouse for one's own, remembering previous relationships that have not actually occurred, claiming the accomplishments of another for oneself, and even core beliefs may all be twisted and become noticeably different from before, indicating that indoctrination has occurred. The deepest extent to which these changes can occur is at this time unknown, due to lacking data, but hypothetically a complete breakdown of higher cognitive functions can be assumed to result from extended exposure. It may also be possible to use councilors and psychological therapy to mend the psyches of those with minimal exposure, but I suspect that will not be feasible due to as detecting those affected will be difficult until it is too late."

Someone stood up and slammed their fist into the table, their explosive rise rocketing the chair they had been sitting on away so hard it bounced off of the wall behind him. "You, you're telling us to form some form of inquisition? You want us to go out on witch hunts against our own men and women? What's next, torture and interrogation!? Commissars out there, performing field executions?"

"Application and deference to an as-of-yet-unratified protocol remain at the discretion of commanding officers, as per regulation. You may do whatever you wish until such a time that Systems Alliance Command has made a decision on the matter. Sit down."

The officer grit his teeth, glaring at Emiya.

"Sit down, Peter." A calm voice; a rock in the middle of the storm.

Turning around with a shocked look of betrayal towards Admiral Hackett, the officer seemed to shrink slightly. Then with a nod, he retrieved his chair and sat down again. Several of the others seemed to draw strength from the implacable man, but Benezia could see just how tense he too had become.

It appeared as if none had come away from what had happened to Nirida unscathed.

"'Accidental exposure', was it?" the Admiral continued with a question.

Emiya nodded. "At this time we are engaged in negotiations with the Citadel to obtain more complete information on any previous incidents. Currently, we are aware of two incidents of this magnitude in the past century."

There was a near-collective sigh of relief at that.

"Just two? In a hundred years?"

"That's not so bad..."

"We can prepare and train any new personnel to handle these situations... Maybe draw up more refined protocols, once Arcturus and Earth are brought up to snuff."

The discussion sounded hopeful.

But Benezia couldn't join in their good cheer. The galaxy was a very large place. An incredibly large place. More so than she could have ever imagined as a Maiden; even as a—in her own opinion at the time, much more worldly and experienced—Matron. Hundreds of years of traveling the nothingness between the stars at speeds far exceeding that of light.

Literal lifetimes to understand the sheer vastness of space.

Two chance meetings of this kind would have been extraordinary in a single system, even within her long lifetime.

But in the whole galaxy?

Two were a very large number of incidents in such a short amount of time. It was not even a full century since the last, she knew. Shanxi and the First Contact War was still within living human memory; most of the men seated here having taken part in that conflict, if only tangentially. Whatever it was that had caused the incident on Palaven with Saren, it had originated from the human world.

Human lives were so short, yet these men had already been twice involved?

This will not be the last we hear of this...

There was much more to come, she knew and dared not say.

"For now, the most pressing issue is manpower." Emiya continued. "We not only have the asari and Alliance ground personnel to screen, but we also have an immense number of batarians prisoners to clear."

"Damn it... He's right. We're going to have to waste months compiling personnel files and cross-referencing them to make sure we're getting accurate information for making sure they're not a risk. And that's assuming they're even willing to cooperate. Are they a contagion risk to our personnel?"

Emiya shook his head. "Unlikely. But it would still be best to ensure that all personnel dealing with them are regularly screened and cycled."

And then, for just a moment, his head turned towards her. And she simply knew that he was looking her in the eyes and speaking silently. But, that is not necessarily the case for the asari... were his unspoken words or warning. A careless mind-meld could, in theory, serve as another vector for the spread of Indoctrination—just like in the kshirae legends of old.

Benezia sighed again, realizing that she would be wrestling with an immense task of her own. And he was leaving how to handle it to her discretion, a favor she was more than grateful for as she offered him the slighted nod.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought he returned it before he continued.

"To that end, I have made some preliminary drafts for holding the batarians and our ground personnel under quarantine without alerting either to the measures for now, until more personnel can be brought in..."

;

The room was very still when the Alliance Intelligence agent finally had concluded his presentation and left, the Asari Matriarch taking her cue to excuse herself then as well.

"Have we managed to contact the Spectre at all? To confirm any of this?" Hackett queried.

"Nothing, so far. It's like he's left everything on autopilot and is ignoring us, but on a ship that size he would need at least a small crew..."

He grunted in acknowledgment of the answer.

"Could we tightbeam the Citadel directly? Ask the Council to issue a statement to the Ambassador?" General Maeda considered out loud.

"That's only if we can trust them to answer honestly, and whether there isn't some greater conspiracy afoot that even they don't know about. You know how the Spectre's operate; no direct oversight. Why else would one appear here, so far from their own territories, without any support?" The words were met with nods and frowns all around. "No, I think we should be more concerned with matters closer to home. It was your man who called the AIA, Maeda."

The General grimaced in response, even as the Major in question squirmed in the corner of the room, completely forgotten by everyone else. "He did it on his own. Besides, the agent was already from before—was even down on Torfan without anyone of us being informed. Or so I was told."

All eyes turned to stare at Kyle for a moment. He fidgeted in place but said nothing.

"I see. Then until further notice, we assume that we're not being fed bullshit. Once we return to Arcturus Station, I will discuss the matter with the AIA directly and seek confirmation there," Hackett said, concluding the matter. "For now, keep those still quarantined since Torfan under watch. And read up on the material we've been given. Even if we can't trust it completely yet, there's no point in just ignoring it either."

"Should we try and establish the new protocols for identifying an... 'indoctrinated' among those in quarantine?" The question was laced with obvious distaste, but this wasn't something they could simply ignore.

"Their exposure probably wasn't sufficient—besides, their numbers aren't large enough for a reliable control either," Maeda interjected. Pausing, he weighed heavily his next words before speaking. "...Should we try and create a baseline comparison with some of the batarian prisoners instead? Draw up some rudimentary exposure references?"

Talk like that was skirting a very dangerous line; it wasn't quite experimentation on sapients. But if it was handled imprudently, it could easily blow up in their faces just as much as actual experimentation could. A great deal of scientific progress stemmed from just such ruthless pragmatism; anyone with even a passing knowledge of modern human history could point out such events, and the parallels to be had here.

But...

It was not as if they were purposefully infecting anyone and if some already were beyond help, it would be a waste to do nothing.

"...Do it," Hackett agreed after a painful minute.

It was also not as if they had any means of helping those who had already been affected; the protocols the Alliance Intelligence agent had delivered suggested that immediate termination was the most humane and efficient method available.

Was, in fact, the only method for combating any further spread.

Were Steven Hackett any harder a man—were he surrounded by more ruthless or unscrupulous officers and advisors, then it was very much possible that the point, that experimentation was very much necessary if they wished to understand this new threat before it became critical, might have been raised.

Perhaps they were all thinking it now, as a stifling quiet descended upon the gathered. Someone, seeking a change of subject spoke then.

"What about the asari? Will this really be the end of it? I hope none missed the fact that she was only playing for time until the AIA representative arrived."

Hackett scowled at that, not saying anything in response. Another problem he had no desire to tangle with.

"You're suggesting she's working with them? How? Why?"

No one seemed to have a satisfactory answer to that until someone opined the reverse. "Rather than that, it might be possible that he is individually working with her. They aren't known as the 'diplomats' for nothing." Everyone thought of other words to characterize the Council race, much less suited for polite company, at that suggestion.

"The Matriarch might just be lying, too." Was the scoffing reply ultimately; all this speculation of complex conspiracies obviously beginning to grate on some. "She might turn around on us the moment she's back among her own kind and has to worry about her reputation in all of this."

"So, what? Buying time by throwing diplomatic relations to the wind? That doesn't seem like the asari—dossiers state that they value their galactic image and long-term relations above all."

"But what is long-term for them? We'll all be dead in a hundred years and then she'll still have to hear about 'that one time on Torfan' for the rest of her life..." Someone groused in reply.

"It isn't as if we can do anything about her. Thessia and the Citadel must have been made aware of things by now," Maeda finally stated, having remained quiet alongside Hackett for a while now.

"The politicians will have to handle that. We've done everything by the book here."

"You mean, 'hope for the best'? Is that it?"

"As long as the events onboard the asari cruiser are kept quiet, the victory on Torfan should be enough to satisfy the public—and the policymakers by proxy. At least until the next elections."

Hackett nodded at that. "I will contact the Human Ambassador on the Citadel and inform him of the new revelations."

"Udina will be thrilled, I'm sure," someone commented in jest.

Hackett had to give a dry chuckle at that, no doubt already envisioning that conversation with no small sense of trepidation. If we're lucky, Udina will only demand a parade on the Citadel Presidium for saving an Asari Matriarch.

"Alright... then what about that new asari corvette we now have in our possession?"

"My Chief Engineer has told me that they have found not found anything unusual aboard the ship and that it should be operational," Hackett said calmly and rubbed his beard. "Nonetheless, I believe it will be best to have it flown straight to Arcturus."

Maeda nodded diplomatically. "If someone comes demanding for the corvette, they will know how to play it best. And if not, then they can blow it up or take it apart however they wish." Pausing to weigh his words carefully, the General looked at Hackett. "And what about the... asari hacker?"

There were scoffs and chuckles all around the table, but the man in question said nothing for several long seconds. Until finally, with a grimace, he shook his head. "If Alliance Intelligence and the Council Spectres want to play a game of cat and mouse without telling us anything, then we'll just have to play along. Do we have any reason to believe that any of our systems or ships have been compromised by this hacker?"

Silence.

Hackett nodded.

"Log everything as usual and leave nothing out of the reports. If the AIA wishes to hide something, they may do it on their own." A round of nods. "Then, that will be all. Dismissed," the Admiral declared and everyone rose out of their seats to leave. "Captain Anderson, would you stay behind for a moment?"

The tan Captain blinked and then nodded, dark eyebrows furrowed slightly in obvious curiosity as everyone else filed out and back to their own vessels and duties. As the door closed and left the two alone, the Admiral finally spoke.

"David, go on, sit."

The Captain nodded and obeyed, smiling ruefully as he did so. "What can I do for you, Steven?"

Hackett grimaced slightly and leaned back in his chair.

"It's in regards to your protege—Shepard, I believe?" Receiving a hesitant nod in response, the Admiral continued. "There is something going on with her. I would like you to find out what."

Anderson frowned, now uncertain but still unwilling to directly question Hackett's request. Seeing that, he continued.

"She was working with the AIA man down on Torfan, and with the asari, too." The older man shook his head. "I'm not suggesting she knew anything, especially since she was working with Maeda's man the whole time. But now I've been informed that she has been called back to Arcturus Station for an Article 35 hearing."

That got Anderson's attention.

"A full hearing? That's ridiculous!"

Hackett sighed, allowing the Captain to collect himself. "I have reason to believe that this is being pushed through by the AIA. For what reason, I don't know. But I suspect it relates to our asari-ship-hopping mystery man—perhaps the Agency wishes to directly interview her themselves."

Anderson nodded slowly in understanding. "And the hearing acts as both a threat and an excuse. If she plays along with them, they will no doubt promise to dismiss it and leave no markings of it in her service record."

"It does sound plausible. Regardless, you know her."

Hackett's words hung in the air for a long second, until Anderson nodded.

"I understand. I'll talk to her before she leaves."

"That won't be necessary. I'm assigning the SSV Tokyo to return to Arcturus Station as an escort for the wounded from Torfan. You'll have plenty of time," Hackett explained. "You've almost as much experience as I have with the AIA, so I'll trust you to handle this."

"Alright," the younger man rose up, straightening his uniform as he did so. "Thank you, Admiral. If that is all?"

Hackett nodded and Anderson departed, leaving the man alone in his office.

;

Okay, now what? Emiya asked himself with a heavy exhalation as he left behind the meeting room, his mind already abuzz with plans and calculations.

Having given them a fighting chance against Indoctrination, was it time for him to finally focus on himself now? His aching arms and legs certainly hoped so, the constant pain never growing any less jarring against the inside of his projected hardsuit. He wasn't sure whether the continued 'buzz' he felt was good or bad, strictly speaking. At least it means there's no nerve damage. I think.

Cooking for the last two years of his life had been a pain after he had lost sensation in his left hand's fingers after one close call too many. Then again, with modern medical understanding, it was still probably fine.

That said, things with Saren hadn't given him that much time to recover and get ready for their meeting, so there was little time to waste.

Eden Prime was still a complete unknown, beyond what the Spectre had said. But there was hardly cause for taking the turian at face value at this point in time, despite the overtures of a truce. He needed to investigate the planet before the meeting, perhaps even in person. Or had the other been counting on that? Considering travel time through space, if he left for Eden Prime immediately—or as soon as he was able, his wounds and other pressing concerns allowing—could he make it to another settlement and then back to Eden Prime within a reasonable timeframe?

Given his newfound ability to jump from Relay to Relay, it wouldn't really be all that difficult for him. Hell, he could probably manually slingshot from one unpaired Relay and slow down with a starship's own engines and make it even faster to the planet if he needed to.

The problem was that he needed time to secure the area. To perform reconnaissance and to make sure he had room to maneuver and act. Leaving after having done so once would all but completely negate all the effort and force him to re-do it the second time he arrived.

Better to make it one trip only, then.

Besides, attempting to occupy him with travel didn't seem like the Spectre's style.

A complex ploy. Too complex. That was his gut feeling from their one meeting and his understanding of turian character in general. Their rigidity and straightforwardness did not lend itself to overly long and complex plots. Hadn't Saren burst onto the scene above Torfan with one lone starship and forced his way through with sheer authority?

Emiya shook his head; he was probably over-analyzing the choice of meeting ground. It was more likely that the Spectre simply had a power base nearby and trusted his ability to exert his influence on Eden Prime. I should make my way to some larger settlement. Preferentially a Systems Alliance colony, where I can access the Navy's databases, gather intel on Eden Prime and then leverage my own—

"May I have a moment of your time?"

Benezia's question froze him in his tracks—sending another painful bolt through his limbs—jolting him out of his thoughts completely.

He turned around, cooling his head as he nodded after a solemn second. Their earlier discussion hadn't ended on the most constructive of notes and now things had gone quite out of hand. What should he say? Wincing slightly, he weighed how or if he should apologize for his failures. This was hardly the first time he had stuck around after failing to save so many, having to confront those who had experienced loss and suffering—he was more than used to dealing with the aftermath already.

Weathering their anger was also a form of salvation.

A poor replacement for the real thing, but the least which he could offer.

She, however, did not give him time for such, as she forged on by herself. Clasping her hands gently before her body in a complex gesture, the Matriarch spoke quietly with a small bow. "I wished to extend my thanks to you, for all that you have done today."

The words hit him like a gut punch, spreading a foul taste in his mouth. Feeling suddenly thankful for his face-concealing helmet, he grimaced and said nothing. There was nothing to be said, the bridge between their points of view too broad and uncrossable for any discussion to be possible. Was it merely the difference in age and maturity; in whether they could accept casualties and losses, effort and intent to help, for what they were? Without one's grief and expectations clouding the seeds of good that had been sown, even if they hadn't flowered into more thankful results?

Or was it just his own cross that separated them so?

His own ugliness rearing up after years of getting used to it from others? The blame, excuses, and hatred. It was a sudden thought amidst his tumult, like lightning bolt out of the clear sky, that split through his mind—When did I get so used to it?

Was it just the inability to accept anything other than salvation for all, despite the tempered cynicism and bitter experience he wore as his mantle against the world? Accepting the suffering and anger of those whom he had failed, like some form of masochistic penance, even coming to expect it now? Secure in his knowledge of reality and that his ideals would never come true—could never come true—in the real world, had he come to accept only pain for pain?

What did it matter how strong he became if the end results never changed? Striving for perfection as the result was an ever-elusive goal, regardless of scale. He knew that well or at least thought he did. But had the simple and heartfelt words of gratitude torn open his true feelings? Was he only acting as a hero of justice to spite his own weakness, now? Had it been like that during his life, as well? He couldn't remember anymore. Somehow he felt like an immature child before this implacable and ancient Matriarch—a feeling he found he immensely disliked.

I knew I didn't like her from the start, he thought ruefully, as if chiding himself.

Noticing his reticence and quiet, Benezia called out to him as she straightened. "...Is everything alright? You appeared... lost, for a lack of a better term, for a moment there."

He knew she had wanted to use his name, and knew that she knew that he knew that too. A gambit for accruing affection; sharing in their private secret by framing them as alone together here aboard the Alliance's ship and surrounded by their men. It also changed the light with which he had viewed her earlier thanks entirely—hadn't this happened once before? Her thanking him and catching him utterly off guard? Was it merely a quirk, or could he construe it as a more deliberate action on her part?

A calculated reinforcement of his perception of her?

Emiya almost scoffed at his earlier thoughts regarding Saren now, suddenly growing all too enlightened as to why the turian had so staunchly held her at bay. Here, was someone who could play the long game, setting plots within schemes within calculations and wrapping each layer in so much meaning that separating intent from happenstance became impossible. Here, was a woman could hide her motives in plain sight and make you agree with it before you had even realized it. Here, was someone he couldn't afford to let his guard down around lest he finds himself all wrapped around her finger before he knew it.

His mind cast back to his attempt at stubborn retaliation during their first meeting—that aggressive, almost impetuously boyish attempt at pushing back at her control—and he had to wonder whether that too had been a ploy of hers? A bait lain out which he had blindly taken, thinking that he was taking charge. This was how they were, weren't they? But where Tyra had butted heads with him head-on, slamming her affection at him without preamble or pretension, was this how an elder and more experienced asari went about the matter?

I'm suddenly very grateful for this helmet, Emiya thought sourly as he sought for something to say.

He wondered if she realized she was doing it, or if it was all merely in his head, and whether she understood why he and Saren were so guarded around her. He also wondered at Shepard; how easily she overcame that and could work together with someone like that.

Was it their similarity, or their differences, that made it so?

"It's nothing. If that's all, I have a meeting with Saren to prepare for," he said curtly, immediately cringing at himself.

Giving up the conversation as a lost cause and deciding he really needed to move on, he nodded at her once and moved to make his exit.

"Yes, about that..." she prompted, waiting to see whether he would wait. But he knew she knew he would. "I believe I had mentioned a previous incident, in which Saren had been involved. Do you remember?"

He nodded once—he had in fact intended to look into that incident in preparation for his next meeting with Saren.

"There was something else, something that I did not think to mention before," she continued. "I had certain, shall we say, reservations, about your background earlier." He said nothing to that, which she took as a sign to continue with a small smile. "There was someone else there as well. Someone who lived through it all and walked away, I mean."

That got his attention.

Noticing the slight straightening of his posture, she nodded.

"A human by the name of Jack Harper—one of the defenders on Shanxi when the turians first met your species—came into contact with Saren and with whatever they found there on that planet. I also have reason to believe that this Harper was there on the turian homeworld when Saren's brother died, as well."

"Harper...?" Emiya muttered quietly. The name did not ring any bells, but he might be able to find records dating back to Shanxi's invasion while he investigated Eden Prime.

"You may know him better by his modern title, a moniker he took up after the events of Palaven." Benezia paused, leaning slightly closer to whisper the next words. "He goes by the name 'The Illusive Man', leading a pro-human organization by the name of..."

"Cerberus..." Emiya groaned.

"Ah, so you are acquainted with them." She nodded with a slight smile at his reaction, now 'reinforcing' his apparent distaste for the organization with maternal approval.

"It's a passing familiarity," he opined with a shake of his head, schooling his expression back to neutral as he considered how to handle the matter.

Perhaps he could track down and talk to the other survivor to get a better read on Saren... But with The Illusive Man's identity being what it was, it would probably be far easier to achieve the reverse; to question Saren on this Jack Harper and then question The Illusive Man on Saren Arterius if their paths crossed.

No, they will cross, he thought glumly.

If the leader of the pro-human organization Cerberus had come into close contact with the Indoctrination phenomenon, then that threw into question everything about the organization. He had once skimmed through their manifesto and thought it seemed tailor-made for the discontent and wary among humanity—a reactionary recruitment drive as much as a mission statement.

But now he had to wonder; was it a more elaborate and long-term plan for undermining humanity instead?

Nirida Henell had seemed perfectly sane at a glance—what had she been planning to do under the Indoctrinating artifact's guidance? If Indoctrination could completely scrub away and scramble apart a person's mind and turn them into a mindless animal, then couldn't a more careful and selective process be used to completely subvert someone?

Of course it could. It was relatively easy to brainwash someone, even without the ability to directly manipulate memories.

Emiya sighed, raising a hand to run through his hair—only remembering at the last second with some awkwardness that the helmet would get in his way—and nodded his thanks to Benezia. "I'll look into it. I'll be heading that way, regardless. Will you be leaving with Saren?"

The Matriarch shook her head. "The crew of the Dreyn N'var must first be cared for. Especially given... recent revelations."

He nodded, showing his understanding.

"Of course. If you need help, I'll see what I can do. I can probably set up a one-time use extranet mail account, or..."

"Perhaps I may contact Shepard?" she inquired, probing intently despite the seeming casualness of the question.

Emiya hesitated and then grimaced, before shaking his head. "She and I will... probably be parting ways here. I don't intend to latch onto the Alliance and I'll be leaving as soon as I can."

He doubted she would be leaving the Alliance Navy any time soon and with the operation here still on-going and entering the crucial clean-up phase, it didn't seem likely that she would have the freedom to keep chasing him.

There was still the matter of the AIA identity he had used, but that was a separate matter entirely.

"I see," Benezia said with a nod, her eyes revealing nothing. "Then..."

"Anyhow. I'll forward you some contact details once I've hashed everything out in a few days."

"...Do you intend to leave immediately?"

He considered it for a moment again but then shook his head.

Better to keep a low profile and board another ship headed out, was what he had concluded before. He could get his hands on a ship of his own to replace the Janiri's Sickle—its sacrifice as a decoy a slightly regrettable if all too necessary cost—once he found himself somewhere more civilized again. Something less eye-catching and economical, he figured preliminarily. And he still needed to get medical treatment, the only reasonable recourse for which within the next thousand of light-years was on board one of the Alliance warships.

By now the casualties from Torfan and Dreyn N'var should all at least be stabilized, meaning he could in good conscience check himself in. It wasn't as if he was in mortal peril; maintaining his physical body was really only just that—maintenance.

Besides, he still needed to talk to Shepard.

Somehow the thought of slinking off without a word, again, simply didn't sit right with him. A notion he didn't bother examining in too much detail, simply accepting the gut feeling as it was as he focused on more important things.

"Not quite yet. But soon," he said. Them, he continued on that thought. "Do you know where Shepard is?"

Benezia nodded, speaking softly. "I believe she is aboard the Alliance cruiser 'Tokyo'."

He nodded. "Right, she must be with the engineering crew. I still need to talk to her."

The Alliance had been expecting casualties, both human and batarian, as a result of the Torfan operation. But a cruiser-full of asari was stretching their capacity out. Asari cruiser's being overdimensioned behemoths in the eyes of most other spacefaring races. Most of the asari crew had been spread out among four human cruisers and a destroyer from what he had checked out before.

"I'll reach out to you if anything new comes up." Nodding his thanks, he turned and left.

Benezia offered him a courteous bow and a silent smile before she too turned to return to her quarters. He was not the only one with a packed schedule for the foreseeable future.

;

It had to be Captain Anderson, Shepard concluded.

She knew she could trust the man, but more than that, she understood his priorities and way of thinking. She had been shaped and tutored for most of her adult life by the man, after all. If she told him what was going on—why she had acted out as she had on Torfan, meeting Emiya and protecting him, conspiring with an alien leader while...—then he was sure to question and scold her for her recklessness.

But he would understand—or so she wanted to believe.

Arnaut Kyle was also a possibility, but she had only worked with the man on this one operation and she did not trust his judgment when it came to Emiya, the AIA or the asari. She had briefly entertained the idea of going directly to Admiral Hackett, well aware of the man's nigh-legendary status and his spotless reputation. But rumor and public opinion was one thing; confiding and possibly conspiring with him was something entirely different.

And it would lead to a conspiracy when she confessed to whoever.

That, or her immediate arrest.

Perhaps she was too close to everything, too overwhelmed by all that had happened. Which was also why she believed that she could trust Anderson's judgment. Years of military service had taught her how valuable an after-action report and review could be—a trusted outside observer's analysis of what had occurred.

All that remained was to tell Emiya.

The results of which filled her with no little hesitation. But she couldn't not tell him, and she couldn't not tell Anderson.

Still, at least she needed to find Emiya first. She had no idea where he was and given that no one had come to talk to her, for any reason, she felt fairly certain in assuming something big was going on and keeping everyone occupied and that she was best off staying out of their legs. So she trusted her training as a soldier—always take any downtime you can to relax, you don't know when you'll get another break.

From that point of view, the bunk in the temporary medical bay should have been a boon, as she still hadn't been released. It's softness and dimensions much greater than the sleeping pods she was used to. But no matter how she turned and tried to shift within the confines that her leg allowed, sleep continued to elude her.

She squirmed again and then felt something, like a presence beside her.

Opening her eyes, she looked up and almost wasn't surprised to see Emiya looming beside her on the bed.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, her first thought escaping past her lips without any input from her brain.

He seemed to blink, his head tilting the slightest bit.

"Not long."

Was it just her imagination or was something off about him?

"Are you alright...?" she asked.

"...It's been a long day," he said neutrally, before looking around. "Seems like most of the asari are fine. Physically, anyhow."

Frowning at his deflection, she followed his gaze and then nodded. "Yeah. Most of the non-combat crew was pretty shaken up, though."

They stared at the asari for a long while, saying nothing. After a while, Shepard noticed that the doctor who had been treating her earlier was eyeing Emiya strangely, so she gave the doctor a thumbs up to reassure her that it was fine.

"Did you and Benezia handle everything already? I heard you had to pull off another stunt again to get off the ship."

Emiya made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff as he crossed his arms. But then, as if thinking better of it, he returned his arms limply to his side, shuffling awkwardly for a moment.

"I had to throw away my starship as bait, but it seemed to work out. After that Benezia had to hold down the fort with the Alliance heads until I got something cobbled together to explain what had happened on the cruiser."

"Yeah?" she inquired, glancing at his arms for a second as she tried to imagine that conversation. "What did you tell them?"

"The truth, more or less. I had expected Benezia to lay the groundwork and that I would have to stick to the constraints of her story, but surprisingly she left the entire thing to me. I'm almost amused at being thought so competent that she thinks she can rely on me to create a cover story in the space of half an hour, and then to handle the fallout on my own." Emiya shook his head. "I could have just left her to deal with everything."

"She trusts you," Shepard said with a grin.

He said nothing for a second, and she wondered whether he was startled by her proclamation or if he was simply rolling his eyes at her suggestion. "Anyhow. I put together some basic countermeasures based on the existing Alliance guidelines. Your guys won't be completely in the dark with that. Hopefully, that'll minimize the damage from now on."

"Good. Nobody likes being a mushroom," Shepard replied with a nod.

Emiya chuffed, apparently familiar with the joke as well.

"...I also met the man of importance she had been talking about, the one into whose good graces she had been trying to get. The one who had spurred her on to look for that Professor I had been looking for as well—turns out he's a turian Spectre." He shrugged.

Her eyebrows almost vanished beneath her hair but after a moment of consideration that made sense. Benezia had been familiar with the Spectre on her ship, even if she had been acting very stiff with him. Or was that just how she acted with turians normally...?

"Turns out he's already looking into it as well. I... agreed to meet with him at a later date to discuss things in more detail," Emiya continued.

She grinned, reaching out to slap his thigh lightly. "Nice. We're making progress already."

He made another scoffing-laugh sound that almost sounded like a wince, and she knew he was rolling his eyes at her. Or... "How did it go with the—uh, Henell? Did you put her down? You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Emiya shook his head.

"It was a close call, but it was fine. If I run into any more of those things, I now know how to handle them."

He didn't seem to be lying; the confident tone of his voice undeniable. Coming from him, it was as good as a boast. "Any advice?"

"They're tricky. Set up an ambush with high-yield explosives and try to lure it out and finish it quickly, if you can. Inside starships, you'll risk a major hull breach—it might be possible to space them deliberately like that, but they might just be able to use its biotics to get on board. Might have to consult a more experienced biotic to see if that's possible..."

Emiya was thinking out loud now, completely lost in mental scenarios. Shepard considered whether or not he was usually so quiet because he was constantly thinking about something, lost in his own thoughts and hypothetical war-games.

She chuckled quietly, never before having thought that she would characterize Emiya as a daydreamer. Then again, hadn't she first thought of him as 'that weirdo with his nose constantly in his omnitool', back in basic?

"Hmm?" He blinked, realizing that he had lost track of the conversation. "Well, just keep your distance and a cool head, and you'll figure it out." Clearing his throat, he finished lamely.

Shepard nodded, suppressing a chuckle badly. "Got it."

She must have looked strange, as he stared at her for a long second completely still. But finally, as she said nothing, he seemed to give up on it and shook his head. "Getting back on track, I'll be meeting with Saren in two weeks in another system."

She blinked.

"So you're leaving already?"

"...Yes."

Neither said anything more, leaving a slightly awkward silence to linger. She had figured as much; he had his own greater agenda to handle, it wasn't like he would simply tag along with her as if he was a part of Alliance military.

Which reminded her...

"The AIA probably already knows you're here," she said in a lowered voice, making sure that only he could hear her. He stiffened in response, turning his head at her in a way that screamed that he was staring at her, even if she couldn't see his face.

"Damn," he muttered and looked away. "I had hoped to avoid that."

Shepard chuckled, crossing her hands confidently. "Don't worry about it. I've got it."

His head swiveled back to her and she could feel his gaze again. "What do you mean?"

Slightly taken off guard by his heated response, she replied with the first thing that came to mind. "I mean, I won't let this affect you. I was thinking that I could introduce you to the Captain of the ship I'm serving on—David Anderson."

"...Why?"

"So that if I get court-martialed, or the AIA does something, you won't lose your contact with the Alliance Navy. I mean, wasn't that the big idea with how you're networking now?"

"...What? —No, that's..." Emiya sighed heavily, palming his helmet as he took a deep breath. "Start from the beginning. Why—"

"Sir, that is quite enough." The female doctor who had been observing from the side said, finally having had enough it seemed. "If you are not seeking medical attention, then I must ask you to leave. Now."

Shepard looked around, suddenly worried over who might have overheard them talking. But it seemed as if the doctor had been the only one to notice—perhaps acting to preempt any actual raising of voices.

Emiya glared at the doctor, before the set in his shoulders becoming decidedly smug and self-satisfied.

"Alright."

What is he...

The doctor nodded with a severe expression. "Then please leave, before—"

"Do you do flayings here?" Emiya asked over her, raising his left hand palm up.

"Flayings...?" The doctor repeated, exasperated and confused in equal measure.

"Yes. Or do you prefer 'degloving'?" he asked as he unlatched the Onyx hardsuit's left arm and pulled it completely off like a long glove. Shepard had first through he was making a joke about taking off his hardsuit until she saw the pink striations of his bare muscles, and she realized that he was serious.

There was no skin on his arm.

"Oh my Lord..." the doctor whispered in abject horror.

"You said you were fine! What the hell is this...?!" Shepard shouted, almost jumping out of the bunk.

"I am fine," he replied annoyed, and she could hear the roll of his eyes now. Then he turned back to face the doctor. "Well, are you going to admit me, or not? It's not bleeding, but who knows how long it'll take for an infection to set in now that I've exposed it to air."

The woman blinked, then shook herself back into a more controlled frame of mind. Turning around, she yelled, "Prep operating room one for a skin graft! One limb with massive—"

"Four limbs," Emiya corrected, causing the doctor to almost stumble in place as she turned so fast to stare at him with an open-mouthed expression. Her eyes slowly traveled down until she stared at his legs.

"How... are you even standing...?"

"Did..." Shepard began, before hesitating. He seemed fine. Had seemed fine. But she trusted the doctor. How badly had he gotten hurt? "Did Henell do this?"

"No." Emiya shook his head. "Well, you know how it is with networking... Sometimes you can wine and dine your way into their good graces, but sometimes you're going to have to twist their arm a little to get past the proverbial firing squad."

"...He had a firing squad?"

"Proverbial," he repeated blithely and it was all she could do not to roll her eyes at him.

There absolutely was a firing squad. She just knew it.

"I'm going to call Captain Anderson over now. And then we're going to all sit down and talk all of this through, or so help me..." Shepard said, rubbing her temple with one hand and pointing threateningly at Emiya with the other.

Emiya nodded. "Alright. We can talk during the surgery. If only Doctor Chakwas here will calm down first."

"Absolutely not! I will not have anyone else in the operating room!" the doctor in question shouted as a wheelchair manifested itself by the work of a rushing orderly. "Now sit down, and take off that helmet. The anesthesia will—"

"No." Emiya interrupted, waving away the wheelchair dismissively. "Just find a meeting room with some privacy and an open line, and I'll be there."

Shepard nodded, staring at the apoplectic doctor with growing apprehension.

"Now you listen here, marine. As the Chief Medical Officer, you—"

"Not Navy. The helmet stays on—and I don't need anesthesia or painkillers either," Emiya said while looking at the doctor, before turning to Shepard again. "If you wanted your Captain, then he's returning from the Orizaba right about now on a shuttle. Better get to it." Then, with a flourish of his still covered hand, he pointed to the wheelchair that had been brought to him. "Here is your ride."

"Now, you listen here...!" Chakwas shouted growing heated, grabbing the wheelchair as she stepped between them. "There will be no dumb machismo here, do you understand?" Then she turned to Shepard with an accusing finger. "And you will not take so much as one foot off of this bed without express permission, lieutenant."

"Of course she isn't." Emiya acquiesced, "You're right, doctor, what was I thinking? Now, where was operating room one, again?" All the while as he threw Shepard's way a low-key thumbs up, as if telling her to make a break for it the moment she could.

Shepard shook her head, laughing weakly. What a mess.

"Every time. Without fail."

;

Thanks to Olive Birdy and V01dSw0rd for proofreading the first half.

WHEW

It's been a while, eh? Sorry about that. Been super busy, as usual. A lot of things caused this break, but primarily it was the title of this chapter. I wanted something special for chapter 36, naming it "Stratagems" as a direct reference to the 36 Stratagems. My plan was to use every single fucking one of the strats in this chapter, but well...

I kinda went crazy trying to figure that out. And by then two months had passed. And then I had school and work and stuff...

So by the time I figured I should write again, I figured I should warm up a little and wrote that HP crossover. It'd be easy, something to get thew old noggin' joggin' again. But then my computer died and I had to spend two weeks using Roadkil's Unstoppable Copier to salvage everything I could from my near-bricked HDD. Not fun. So I bought a new, much, MUCH better computer. But then, well, Half-Life: Alyx was announced and old VR head-mounted display prices dropped. So I figured getting one for like 150 bucks was too big of a steal to pass up on... And then I bought Skyrim again. In VR. And well, it all went downhill from there.

So... I am now 100% addicted to Beat Saber.

I also got something if a burnout on Fate in general. So many new anime, so much new stuff coming out... And none of which I give a flying fuck about :V Kinda even considered dropping this fanfic account and moving on. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it. (My previous accounts most popular fic still gets people asking for updates and it's been over 5 years. People are nothing if not tenacious )

But well, then I got reminded of how much I'd enjoyed writing MotM and just how much shit I still had planned. Like, I have this huge ass mind map taped to my bedroom wall for the next arc, and it's just taunting me. Because the next arc is really fucking daunting me in terms of how much stuff I need to set up, and how much I've already set up and need to follow through on. So I had to spend like a week going through my old notes and re-reading chapters just to figure out where I had left my plot threads.

ANYHOW, the plan is that I'm back now. But probably not at the same rate of updates, as still have a fuckton of other shit going on. Kind of been thinking about writing original fiction, too. Have some isekai ideas I'd like to write to be honest, despite how CURSED the genre is.

Anyhow, here was the last chapter of the Torfan arc! Thanks for reading everyone!