SSV Normandy, staging deck
Tali'Zorah was angry at herself, at her weakness - a quarian, afraid of a piece of machinery? The mere thought was laughable. Yet here she was, hesitant to enter the engineering room where she would be alone, with that malicious thing watching her. Keelah, it's like one of Auntie Raan's ghost stories…
As she was dithering in front of the door to engineering, she heard the elevator hiss open, and two sets of steps rung on the deck, heading towards Wrex. She could not make out the words as they were too low, but she heard the low growling voice of Wrex, the flanging, exasperated voice of Garrus, and the low rumble of Shepard. A set of footsteps distanced itself towards the Mako, and as she turned around, she could see Garrus leaning to the tank, shaking his head. A second later, she felt the temperature drop, as hoarfrost crept across the staging deck, and the blue-white concussive detonation of a biotic charge shook the ship.
She was paralyzed for a second, before the deep laughter of Wrex filled the deck, the sound followed by the shriek of tearing metal. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, daughter of the Migrant Fleet and heir to one of its admirals, stalked towards the staging deck, intent on chastising the imbeciles putting the whole ship and crew into danger with their immature, childish show of bravado. How dare they behave like that, the bosh'tets should know better!
Her measured stalking hastened by the sounds of biotically empowered blows and thuds, she reached the staging deck in time to see Shepard skidding over the frost-limned deck, ducking under a blow from Wrex, and staggering the old warlord with a kick to the knee, the human's face a mask of savage joy and bloodlust. The krogan grunted, staggered, then sent the operative flying with a biotic throw, before closing again with a snarl, his grin a match to Shepard's. To the side, Garrus was watching with apparent frustration, before the turian snapped to attention, and grinned at Tali. His grin wilted as she sent him a withering glare through her mask - he's a turian, they are supposed to be disciplined -, before marching closer, her fingers drumming on her omnitool. A raised three-fingered hand limned in orange - then the staging deck was filled with the smell of ozone and blue-white light as Tali simply electrocuted the two brawlers, who fell to the deck twitching.
"What in the void are you bosh'tets thinking? Are you trying to rip the ship apart with your insane antics? Why not drop down to Feros or an asteroid if you so desperately want to have a ridiculous contest like this?" She towered over the two prone, still-twitching males, finger pointing accusingly on them, her voice almost a shriek from the barely controlled fury, indignation, and fear. "I can't believe you two are so recklessly insane! Have you given any thought to what may happen when you rip through these flimsy plates and the outer hull? Are you planning to do Saren's job in getting us all killed? Where's the experienced, legendary krogan warlord? Where's the responsible special operative? Who swapped them with two testosterone-addled teenagers?"
Garrus almost fell over standing as he could not hold back his laughter - the sight of the diminutive quarian lecturing the two brawlers was simply too much, and he only regretted switching on his visor's recording function a few seconds too late. Still, he supposed the part he captured would be excellent blackmail material… then he stiffened as Tali rounded on him, her omnitool emitting small, ominous arcs of electricity.
"Don't you dare laugh, you bosh'tet lizard, you are as much to blame as they are! Why in the void did you not stop them?" Garrus sputtered, tried to interject, to defend himself, point out how ridiculuous the thought of him stopping the ship's captain was, but Tali simply did not care. "You are a turian, you should have set a good example for discipline and regulations! If you could not stop them, why not alert Chief Engineer Adams, XO Pressly, or Doctor Chakwas? I'm sure either of them could have put these overgrown kids in their place, and enlightened them about shipboard safety with regards to biotic fights!"
Her tirade sputtered as Shepard and Wrex both rose, towering over her, while measuring her with almost-identical gazes. She felt herself shrinking a bit, before she squared her shoulders, and again glared at them, glad that they could not see her flush under her helmet. Wrex laughed, without a trace of anger, while grinning at her.
"See, Shepard, this is the reason for our little counseling session. I may have to take her to Tuchanka, if she's willing." Tali looked bewildered, especially when Shepard grinned and nodded.
"Why would you take me there? What do you mean, you overgrown turtle? Quit being so mysterious!"
The answer came from Shepard.
"The krogan rite of adulthood and adoption into a clan is traditionally conducted on Tuchanka."
Tali nodded absently, raised her finger to make a point, before the words registered. Being the daughter of an admiral, nephew of another, she was able to pull together a sufficiently eloquent reaction.
"WHAT?"
Her shout set all three males off, and her visor helpfully provided targeting data before she dismissed the suit VI's suggestions with a blink. She took a deep breath, her omnitool arcing with dangerous sparks again, and she took a vicious satisfaction that it stopped all three bosh'tets from laughing. They were still grinning, but she'd take what she could get.
"Now, seriously. What in the void are you talking about, Wrex?"
The huge krogan's grin was not reassuring her. At all.
"You've got a quad on you, little Tali. I would feel remiss if I didn't offer my favorite new niece a chance of joining Clan Urdnot, to make it official."
Tali's mouthpiece glowed, but no words came out. Garrus, mandibles still flexed in that infuriating grin of his, spoke up.
"You might want to think seriously about this, Tali. Krogan warlords do not often make these to just anyone." He thought for a second, then his grin dropped. "Though I'm not sure about that rite of theirs, I heard some stories..."
Tali's mind whirled with the possibilities, duty to his people skirmishing with her personal feelings, and since there were traitors among the latter, the struggle was brief, the outcome not in doubt.
"You're like the crazy, headbutting uncle I never had, Wrex."
She was surprised when the crazy old turtle almost crushed her into a hug, her protests muffled by the almost rib-cracking strength, her mortification at the laughing krogan's action somewhat mitigated by the poleaxed look on the faces of both Garrus and Shepard. She grinned under her helmet as she was back on her feet, the possibilites of a closer interworking between the Migrant Fleet and a krogan clan whirling in her mind. Also, she felt good at the praise, as Wrex did not seem to have ulterior motives, and apart from his species-induced insanity, he was quite fun to be around.
"Watch out Shepard, my new niece just might take a fancy to you, and then your pretty little doctor will have some serious competition."
As Garrus and Shepard once again descended into undignified giggling, Tali was busy trying to kill Wrex with a glare while struggling for words.
SSV Erebus, Attican Beta cluster, en route to Feros
Admiral Steven Hackett was feeling conflicted. A part of him was pleased that once again, the capabilities and resolve of humanity have been sufficiently presented to the alien races; another part of him railed at the cost and methods of said reminder - he never liked the C-type shells, especially after he attained flag rank, and became privy to what exactly those things were. He was also quietly furious with ONI dropping the ball on the whole issue; an alien lifeform requiring such extreme measures to finish should have been better supervised, and reigned in much earlier. Of course, the possible benefits of a tech rush almost always trump the more sensible course of immediately killing such abominations. One would think that events like Irem and Leng were enough of a reminder, but no, we are too prideful for that…
Hackett snorted, and continued studying the reports from Shepard and Anderson, jotting down notes on his datapad. He started to approve and expand upon the follow-up investigation and purge suggested by his subordinates, taking steps against ExoGeni (after all, they did lose control of their experiment), drawing up plans for a more offensive approach towards the geth - if the reports from Fyodor's flotilla were accurate, the damn machines were up to something in the Armstrong Cluster.
His contemplation was interrupted by a call from the main bridge.
"Hackett here."
"Admiral, an Alliance vessel just dropped from lightspeed, and it is requesting docking permission. According to the data burst sent, the passenger of the ship wants to see you ASAP, and based on the clearance used, it might just be genuine."
Hackett's eyes scanned the encrypted code, mentally comparing it to the ones committed to memory - and only decades of service kept his face impassive.
"Order Captain Rafael to maneuver for fastest possible interception course, then have the other vessel dock in the bay nearest to my office. Ensure that the shortest route between the docking bay and my office is cleared. I want shipboard security in readiness. Also, tell the Captain I want a full sensor sweep of the sector, repeated at short, randomized intervals."
"Aye, Sir."
While his ship was maneuvering, Hackett considered who exactly his guest would be, and what the agenda might be. Based on the codes and means of contacting him, it had to be an extremely urgent and sensitive issue - Director Bergman was not known for jumping at shadows. He could guess a bit further about the nature of the issue, since the University of Kathmandu was usually not involved in everyday tasks. Still, the clearance level with its attached signifier made him uneasy, especially since he was on his way to support another; it felt as if Fate itself was mocking him.
His guest arrived an hour after her message - a petite, dark-haired woman, whose age he could not determine, but wagered that she was older than her looks indicated. She wore no formal uniform with rank and specialty signifiers, just a simple, utilitarian catsuit, that he suspected would nicely double as body armor. She stepped to his desk and saluted.
"Admiral Hackett, a pleasure to meet you."
"Forgive me for saying that the feeling is not mutual, Specialist. We were in somewhat of a hurry towards Feros, as I'm sure you know. And I suspect your arrival will delay us longer than a few hours."
"Unfortunately, you are correct Admiral. I apologize for intervening in your operations, but both Director Bergman and Professor Yildirim impressed on me that the issue at hand is potentially as serious as the Feros situation."
Hackett felt his blood go cold, as he lifted an eyebrow, motioning for the woman to sit and continue.
"That is a very dangerous claim, especially with those two names attached. Elaborate, Specialist."
"May I, Admiral?" At Hackett's nod, the woman gestured with her omnitool, and the holoscreen of the office came alive, the display split to show the black ship from Eden Prime, a certain hexagonal logo, and the surface of a planet every spacer of the Terminus knew. Hackett's eyes narrowed as his mind tried to correlate the three unrelated images, and not liking the immediate possibilities that arose.
"I know you are cleared and in the know about Cerberus, Admiral. After the Eden Prime attack, a think tank of Project Cerberus scientists was charged with looking for information and theories about weaponry capable of contending with that black dreadnought. Frankly, we did not expect any result anytime soon," Hackett snorted at that, mouth curling in a bitter smile, "but Doctors Chandana and Garneau came up with a theory involving the Great Rift."
The Admiral thought for a few seconds before speaking.
"Do they want to find the weapon that created the Great Rift, or do they want to investigate if there are tracks of the intended target?"
The specialist looked pleasantly surprised.
"A bit of both, Admiral. They do have some theories about likely trajectories, accounting for the elapsed time. We also ran their search models through our navcomputers, and the possible locations for an intended target do seem plausible. There's unfortunately a rather substantial amount of space to search for, even so."
"I thought so. Still, even with that, I fail to see why you needed me, especially now. That type of task would much better suit to any Scout Flotilla, and I'm sure that First or Second Fleet would have ships to spare. I do have my hands full of geth and the Saren business, you may recall."
The woman cleared her throat, and looked in Hackett's eyes.
"Unfortunately, due to … certain factors, the Director and the Professor thought it better if the First and Second Fleet was not involved in this operation, at least for the time being."
Hackett's eyes narrowed dangerously at his visitor.
"That's quite a serious insinuation, Specialist. Care to share the details, or at least the reason?"
"I'm sorry, Admiral, but I cannot. At this point, we have only suspicions, not evidence or facts. With the current situation, neither the Director, nor the Professor wanted to cause more internal strife than absolutely necessary. I apologize for the burden this places on Fifth Fleet and you, but this is what we are dealt by Fate."
Hackett snorted, before he stood and started pacing.
"Tell me, what do you want exactly? I can't spare too many ships, especially not for any extended time. Am I correct in assuming that you want the Erebus on-site at first, just in case someone unfriendly is waiting there?" The woman nodded, and Hackett went on. "I do not like that, but I suppose it's sensible. I can give you a few days, then I need to be elsewhere, conducting anti-geth operations. Also, it would be too suspicious for me to vanish that long, wouldn't it?"
"Correct, Admiral. We can come up with a cover story for a, say, three-day absence, but even under other circumstances, I would not presume to take up more than yor time."
"Fair enough, then. And we'll use those three days to see who can be detached to provide you with some scanning and protection capabilities."
"Thank you, Admiral Hackett. I only wish the circumstances were less severe."
"As do I. Will you be returning to your ship, or do you intend to remain here?"
"Perhaps staying here would be better, at least until we get to Klendagon."
"Then, I hope you'll accept an invitation to dinner with me and my officers, Specialist Olivia Zuleika."
Thessia, Temple of Athame
The elegant, curved lines of the city buildings had not put Nihlus at ease, and he saw the minuscule signs of Tela herself preparing for confrontation - small wonder, considering their current agenda. He silently cursed Bau for delegating this hassle to them, and laid a hand on Tela's arm, holding her back for a second. The asari glanced at him, face an unreadable mask.
"Thanks for coming along, Tela."
"I could not very well leave you to the mercy of those old hags, could I?" Even Nihlus had difficulty spotting the humor and smile in his partner's eyes. "Now, remember to keep your tongue from lolling down your plates, and mind your manners."
"Don't worry, Jondum has given me detailed instructions on what to do." The asari's gaze searched his features for a long second, then she snorted. and shrugged.
"Your funeral."
The two Spectres ascended the steps to the Temple of Athame, the gates irising open before them. Nihlus took in the various religious artifacts and statues scattered within, finally focusing on the huge statue of the ancient asari goddess dominating the centre of the temple. Their footsteps echoed in the reverent silence, as they marched towards the small group waiting for them at the foot of the goddess. Nihlus knew enough to recognize two of them as ranked priestesses of Athame, but the other five set alarm bells ringing in his head, his stance and gait turning wary, predatory. What in the name of the spirits are Huntresses doing here, especially disguised as priestesses?
A small, fleeting gesture at the edge of his vision let him know that Tela, obviously, spotted the problem, and was ready to follow his lead.
"Greetings, honored Priestess!" The turian's flanging voice evoked strange echoes among the shifting shadows. "We have come seeking advice about a wayward daughter of the Goddess."
"Be welcome, Spectres" the asari on the right answered with a mellow, lilting voice. "I am afraid the Temple cannot offer much information on Liara T'Soni; devoted follower she may be, but her youth means we have few records of her."
The turian's mandibles flared in a grin only a braindead vorcha would mistake for a friendly smile.
"Insulting a Spectre is not a wise course of action, Priestess." He leaned forward, posture shifting as if tensing for a pounce, saw the five Huntresses tense just a bit. "Even when you have disguised bodyguards at your beck and call. Best end the charade, before we are forced to add sacrilege to the list of long grievances the Matriarchate has laid at the feet of the Spectres."
The Huntresses bristled, he could see faint sparks of biotic flares, quickly suppressed. The priestess drew herself up, channeling every bit of offended dignity her ancient religion and centuries of personal experience allowed her. Tela at his side looked relaxed, almost bored - just like whenever they were about to do something excessively violent. The priestess controlled herself with barely a visible effort.
"Why meddle with our sacred duties, Spectre? If you so desperately want to obtain information on Benezia T'Soni, why not go to the Council of Matriarchs? They are the ones who deal with the temporal, external world, we are but curators and delvers of the ancient past."
"And you do keep records of those times, do you not?" Tela's voice was colder than he had heard it in a long time, accompanied by a sharklike grin. "Similar to how you have detailed information on the capabilities and history of the notable members of the Cult. People like Benezia T'Soni."
"If you know that, Spectre" the title was spat like a curse "you should know that our archives are closed, and only the most senior members of the Cult may access them, and even then only in dire need."
Nihlus laughed, the sound bitterly amused.
"Enlighten me, Priestess, what you consider dire need, as obviously the betrayal and insanity of an influential figure like Benezia and a formidable Spectre like Saren are not enough!" Green eyes glared at the clustered asari, as the turian's stance shifted forward, as if ready to charge. "The geth building or accessing technology to build ships that can potentially wipe out whole fleets and worlds? The humans burning a colony of theirs to get rid of a precursor too dangerous to let live? Tell me Priestess, are these times and threats not dire enough for you? Will you let Thessia burn around you just to keep your vaunted secrecy just that much longer?"
The Spectre heard a venomous hiss from the Huntresses, and saw a proud, excited smirk flash across Tela's face. Best not dwell on that now.
"Help us browse your relevant databases - at least then you can honestly tell the galaxy that you played a vitally important role in preventing an errant daughter of the Goddess from committing something unforgivable."
The priestess considered Nihlus for an eternal minute, before she nodded, and motioned them to follow.