Teltin facility, Pragia (20/03/2183)
The young woman closed her eyes, trying to get her breathing and wide grin under control once again - as usual, it required a rather serious effort of will; the sheer enjoyment and release she felt during fighting (especially when winning) a much more potent drug than weak knock-offs like hallex or red sand. She still could hardly believe her luck to be here, and how the staff, even including the always-nosy researchers, dealt with her. Though she knew that the constant training, tests and experiments upon her were very far from normal, she also knew that it was her decision to participate - if she refused, even after the issue in question was explained to her in details, including ramifications and possible dangers, she knew that her handlers would not push. And that was much, much better than a lot of orphaned biotic kids like her had to face. Even sheltered most of her life on Pragia, she made a point of familiarizing herself with the situation back on Earth and the major colony worlds.
Between the tests and training sessions, she sometimes pondered how different her situation would be if the staff here were similar to the cold, careless assholes that seemed prevalent in the Alliance proper; and while she would never, ever deny that her handlers were ruthless and goal-oriented people, they had at least enough common sense to ensure that she and the other subjects of the Teltin facility were personally invested and properly motivated. At the half-amused urging of Doctor Selwyn, the head of research, she seriously contemplated several times how and why she'd break out and level the facility - and after the second such occasion, she was not surprised when she could see the small changes deliberately aimed at preventing (or more importantly, preempting) such scenarios.
All told, she felt rather content with her situation. Sure, the experiments sometimes hurt like hell, there was almost always an element of danger involved in them (as attested by the deaths and permanent brain damage suffered by several trainees), but they were actually doing good, and the results they paid for in blood, pain, and nightmares were indeed helpful to biotics and ordinary Alliance citizens. And she knew that apart from the scientific purposes, they (or at least her, and a few others) were being trained as biotic operatives, specifically to counter powerhouses like asari war priestesses or turian cabalists - though why this training was conducted here, instead of the various N-level training facilities was somewhat unclear to her. Of course, when she asked about it (she may have been somewhat sheltered, but not totally ignorant), dr. Selwyn explained that this location was selected because of legal and secrecy issues, and once they had produced stable, repeatable results, the training and surgical procedures would be relocated to Earth and the Grissom Academy, mainly. For some obscure reason, that felt kind of reasonable and impressive to her, and the others who also heard that reasoning - the outcast orphans were the pioneers paving the way for the future badass N-level soldiers … and likely the youngest among them would have an actual chance of participating in and qualifying for that coveted designation.
She breathed out, pulse and adrenaline levels normalising.
"Impressive bout as usual, Jacqueline." She could hear the pride in the doctor's voice. "If you are not tired, we have a special guest here, who would be interested in a bit of sparring" her eyebrows raised as she heard a note of concern enter his voice, rather unusual compared to the distant amusement he usually held towards these practice bouts, "that is, if you are fine with full contact?"
"Bring it, doc." She flashed an eager, hungry smile towards the podium. "You know how I love challenges like that."
The doorway opened, and with narrowed eyes, she assessed the man who entered. The man moved with a slightly hesitating, careful gait that spoke of recent surgery or cyberization for his legs. His arms openly displayed the tell-tale signs of bionic reconstruction. Apart from the slender blade he carried, she could not see any obvious weapons, but that fact alone made her wary - either the guy was insanely arrogant, or very, very dangerous, facing her while still recovering from something that banged him up that bad.
For some reason, even though he was just standing there, something in him nauseated and revolted her; an aura of uncleanness, of sheer wrongness that seemed to emanate from the man. Her stomach almost rebelled at that, before her will clamped down. So, likely some kind of pheromon-based trick; maybe using drell biotech for all I know. Still, not giving you the satisfaction, you smug bastard.
With a gesture, she threw a singularity towards him, her other hand wrapping a monofilament garrote in a biotic field, aiming at his knee joints. The guy shot something from a freaking palm gun that detonated her singularity before it could fully form, and the sword slashed through the monowire. He flashed a smug smirk at her, then moved.
Jacqueline was conditioned and trained for over a decade by experts in several martial arts, including huntresses from Matriarch Trellani's retinue. She thought she was fast, and that only the likes of elite N7 operatives might provide a challenge for her, and that she could keep up with or outright steamroll anyone else. This still-healing smugly grinning bastard almost wiped the floor with her in seconds; only her reflexes and the wall of biotic force she pulsed saved her.
The two of them were circling now, slowly, and she could feel the euphoria of a true fight flooding her system, much better and more exciting than the regular sparring sessions. Her corona ignited with blue-white power, and she hurled half dozen thin, bladed disks at him, directing their path with her biotics, throwing lift and warp fields as well as the occasional singularity to hamper his movements. Still, he was good - very, very good. The shots from that weird palm-gun hit very hard, and the guy had an unerring accuracy. Something in his armor (magnetic boots maybe, or prototype built-in biotic inhibitors perhaps) made him rather resistant to her abilities - not that there was a moment where she could fully grab him with a biotic field. That sword of his was very well suited to bat aside her disks, and she could have sworn that he cut through otherwise flawlessly aimed warp fields of hers at least twice.
Teeth bared in a feral grin, she decided to up the ante, her disks blooming into masses of monofilament tendrils, eagerly lashing out at any sign of movement towards the man, her corona glowed fiercely as she drew in her focus, opting to use more precise fields as opposed to simple raw power.
"You'd better give up, old man." She sent him a vicious, cocky smirk. "I'd hate to undo the work of your doctors."
For a heartbeat, the sheer wrongness of the somehow soulless smile took her breath away.
"No, little girl. This is just starting to be fun."
Before she could even process that statement, that nauseating, unclean aura of his somehow pulsed, blanketing the whole field with its miasma, the worming tendrils of power seeking to turn her into a snivelling, terrified little girl. Jacqueline reacted the only way she knew, the only way she felt appropriate - she charged.
On the observation podium, doctor Selwyn turned towards his guest, who followed both the duel and the data scrolling on the multitude of screens with considerable interest.
"Your opinion, Mr. Lawson?"
The other man nodded slowly, his lips peeling back in an expression that might have been technically a smile.
"You did excellent work, doctor. Her combat and biotic abilities are even better than I hoped." At Selwyn's expression, his guest barely suppressed a chuckle. "Come now, Ivo. We both know that it is one thing to train someone like her to impress people who only have the mandatory service under their belt, but to stand up against a fully qualified N7?"
Selwyn nodded, a satisfied smile flickering across his face. His guest continued.
"And from what I can tell, the special modifications and conditioning seem to work as well."
"Just as we planned, Henry." A barely-perceivable wince, and the raised eyebrow prompted the doctor to continue. "A word of advice, though - even if we had not managed to come up with a way to break or reverse the conditioning, we should not assume that it is foolproof."
"Point taken, doctor. And while I understand that young Jacqueline is your star pupil, how do the others compare to her?"
Selwyn chuckled.
"Don't worry on that account, Henry. All surviving students meet or exceed the original Phantom criteria." Something malicious, something alien flashed deep in his gaze, his stance becoming almost insectile for a fraction of a second. "And of course we kept extensive source material for flash-cloning them, should the need arise."
The eyes of the former Secretary of Education lost all semblance to humanity, and for a moment, something hungry and utterly alien glared out from that cold gaze.
"I will hold you to that, Selwyn."
Orbital station, Alingon (22/03/2183)
The immense salarian glared around from behind his visor. He never liked Alingon, even though he understood perfectly why it was a near-perfect outpost for someone like the Broker; still, being a heavily cyberized mercenary, he figured it was not so hard to understand his uneasiness. And considering the orders and direction the Network has been taking recently, he was already on edge - and well, for someone like him, being on edge filled him with an almost overwhelming urge to tear someone apart.
He noted with dark satisfaction that his escort noted his mood, and kept proper distance, showed respect and subservience; he nodded to himself, confirming that at least this batch of the Broker's private army had more common sense than the usual idiots he had to work with. He considered for a long minute the other four ships docked to the station, pondering about their occupants and the possibility of violence they were capable of.
He quickly decided that Jaroth was unlikely to cause them problems - the other salarian did not survive this long at the side of an insane maniac like Jona Sederis by picking fights without very good reason. Jaroth, first and foremost, was a survivor - and breaking the truce here and now would see him dead faster than he could blink. Not to mention that the potential benefits to the Eclipse were rather tempting, and would likely be enough to get him into the good graces of his bloodthirsty bitch of a boss.
Tarak was also unlikely to start shooting or asking stupid questions - the batarian was building up his own branch of the Blue Suns to influence that idiotic, money-grubbing Santiago, if not outright oust him. Tazzik snorted at the thought; it would be a sight to see, that's for certain. And Tarak had more than enough to worry about, as his former commander and the few Blue Suns remnants still loyal to Massani were gunning for him. It was practically an open secret on Omega that Jedore, Massani's loyal bitch of a lieutenant was recruiting mercs and stockpiling combat mechs to sweep Tarak's faction off Omega.
The third merc was, in Tazzik's expert opinion, the most likely to start any fight, likely simply for the sake of killing. Garm of the Blood Pack brought the largest contingent of mercenaries, and well, neither krogan nor vorcha were considered stellar examples of calm reasoning. It would be fun to have a go at Garm, the salarian mused, just to teach the krogan battlemaster that he was very, very far from being the top dog. Still, even a dense, bloodthirsty idiot like him should be able to understand the benefit of the Broker's offer. Tazzik snorted, shook his head with a rueful grin. He chastised himself for allowing his prejudice to influence his judgment. Sure, compared to the others, Garm might not be a mental giant, but he did not get to be a battlemaster and survived centuries just because his raw power - though it certainly did help. Still, underestimating his intelligence would be a bad move on Tazzik's part.
The salarian did not really know the fourth party to attend this little gathering of sorts, but a quick check of the Broker's database identified the ship as some type of Collector vessel. Tazzik did not really understand or care why the Broker suddenly became so accommodating towards the freaks from beyond the Omega-4 Relay, but he suspected it might have been something about the Battle of the Citadel. He knew that the Collectors usually supplied highly advanced biotech and cybernetics to those they dealt with, and from what he'd seen in the reports about that mess with Saren and his behemoth of a dreadnought, more cutting-edge tech would likely give him and the rest of the Broker's network the ability to dominate enemies like the rogue Spectre. And, naturally, they would be able to crush basically almost everyone else, but in his opinion, that was just a very nice bonus.
Tazzik kept his hand on his sidearm as his eyes and suit sensors tracked the three mercenary leaders easily - and frowned as he realized that the oversized cockroach of a Collector did not register on his sensors at all, and even his cybernetic eye had trouble tracking it. Hmm, if they are willing to share this little bit of their tech, I would definitely enjoy testing it.
He went rigid with surprise for a single heartbeat - an eternity for a genhanced, heavily cyborgized salarian like him. He did not expect that both Tarak and Jaroth would defer to Garm, of all people - yet all the signs were there, in their posture, gestures, a host of other, minuscule, barely-perceptible signals. Well, that was just fine with him - after all, convincing two parties that a deal was nice and beneficial was much easier than convincing four.
He stepped down from the ramp of his ship, crossed to the mercs, and beckoned the Collector closer. For a moment, he thought about spinning a nice, stirring speech about benefits and cooperation, and all that trite-but-true bullshit, then he spoke.
"All right, good to know that you three had enough sense to accept the Broker's invite."
"Get to the point, Tazzik. Even you should not bullshit around so much." Garm's voice was a deep, menacing growl. The salarian flashed a hungry grin at him, then continued.
"Fine with me. The Collectors approached the Broker to negotiate a deal with you, in exchange for tech from them and information from the Network." His smile widened as he took in all three mercs, looking for signs of surprise, even under the suddenly-rigid control the trio exhibited. "Don't worry, you'll like the proposition. I can guarantee that."
"Suppose you are honest," Tarak flashed his mandibles in a vicious grin. "Well, as honest as a salarian working for the Broker can get anyway - why are you the one talking, and not the bug?" He scowled at the Collector. "Though I guess without a mouth they can't really speak, can they now."
"I CAN SPEAK WELL ENOUGH, BATARIAN." The sound was a basso rumbling of a thousand insectile wings beating in harmony, its sheer power and wrongness setting the four battle-hardened instantly on edge.
"Then out with it, bug - what do you want from us?" The krogan's growl was laced with the promise of barely-restrained violence.
"NOTHING YOU WOULD NOT HAVE DONE ANYWAY." The Collector's four eyes shone with a baleful, merciless yellow eye, its body seemingly towering above them, the skin turning black and cracked, as a more mechanical undertone washed over the insectile buzzing. "WE WILL ASSIST YOU IN TAKING OVER OMEGA - AND IN RETURN, YOU WILL STRIKE AT A SHORT LIST OF ALLIANCE AND COUNCIL TARGETS WE WILL PROVIDE."
The Collector raised a hand wreathed in dark biotic aura to stop the protest Jaroth was about to make.
"THE SHADOW BROKER WILL PROVIDE INTEL FOR YOU. WE WILL PROVIDE TECH AND OTHER TOOLS. YOU ONLY NEED TO STRIKE WITH OVERWHELMING FORCE."
The three leaders shared a glance, communicating as only long-time enemies and allies can, before Garm turned towards the Collector and Tazzik.
"Very well, we will do it - if the stuff you two are providing is good enough." He took a menacing step forward, his biotics sparking with cold blue-white light. "But better show us the tech and intel first, as well as the list of targets."
The Collector turned towards Tazzik.
"HANDLE THE REST, SALARIAN. THE RELEVANT INFORMATION HAS BEEN FORWARDED TO THE BROKER, AND YOU ARE AUTHORIZED FOR ACCESSING IT." The being shot a glare at the foursome, before he turned to leave. "THIS EXCHANGE IS OVER."
Flux, Citadel (02/04/2183)
The music was rather mellow, more quiet and relaxing than what Liara would have expected from Flux, given her past experiences with the club. Still, she considered that maybe the specific occasion might have something to do with it - after all, this was to be the unofficial dissolution of the Normandy crew, as they went on their separate paths. She sipped her drink, frowning as she considered her own chosen path once again, as she had many times in the past two weeks, ever since Admiral Hackett and Shepard approached her with the idea. She still could not fully believe they'd want her for that kind of role, but she could not deny the sheer intellectual thrill of the job, and that she would certainly feel useful, at least doing something to atone for her mother's insanity as well as to prepare for the coming Reaper invasion. And, as a treacherous small voice whispered in the back of her mind, it would give her a reason to keep in contact with a certain operative… Blushing, she downed her drink, barely managed to avoid choking as the potent alcohol burned its way down, pleasantly warming her.
Her companions were also quietly nursing their drinks, the whole team quieter, much more introspective than usual - even Wrex. A quick glance towards the other tables confirmed that most of the crewmembers were also content to sit back and drink, the dance floor was, for now, quiet and empty; though that might have been partially because Shepard rented the whole Flux for the evening.
"So, what's with all the doom and gloom, Shepard?" The humor was unmistakable in the flanging turian voice. "Just because you'll be deprived of such a talented and good-looking sniper is no reason for drowning yourself in ryncol." Before the Spectre could reply, the turian went on, a certain glint in his eyes. "Besides, at the rate you are going, you'll make Liara jealous, and that will end badly."
Liara sputtered, and even Shepard coughed as he glared daggers at the turian, before nodding towards Tali, who drove an elbow into Garrus' side.
"Shut up, you bosh'tet." Her eyes narrowed behind the faceplate. "Unless you are projecting your own feelings, nursing that crush of yours for the human Spectre who always takes you to fun places for all kinds of action..."
For a brief moment, there was silence, all eyes on the young quarian, as she shrugged self-consciously; then Wrex snorted, the sound transforming into a deep, rumbling laugh, and that was the cue for the others to let loose, and the mood lightened.
"So, Shepard" Wrex rumbled "any particular reason why you are throwing this little shindig? It's not like we'll be completely out of touch."
"It's not that, Wrex. Chalk it up to my stupid paranoia - just wanted to go through our rather haphazard conspiracy in a fitting place." The Spectre flashed a wry grin at them, sipped his drink, and went on. "I know we can technically easily contact each other, unless one of us has to go into deep cover - but I want to be sure that everyone knows his or her task for the foreseeable future." His voice hardened, took on a bleak edge. "I have no idea how much time we have before the Reapers, but we'd better start preparations as soon as possible. As long as we can't move openly, we are bereft of a lot of resources and by the time the populace and most of the governments can be made to see reason, it might be too late."
The operative sipped again from his drink, glowered at some unseen point, before he went on.
"Sure, the Council and especially the other Spectres are moving in support, but even so, our options are limited, and there is much to do. So, let's do one more check, before we get really drunk and ship out."
Shepard held up a finger, his omnitool running a scan, then turned towards Tali, whose headshake followed a minute later as her search came up negative.
"Good, apparently we are not bugged, and the countermeasures are working. Still, let's keep it brief."
The operative nodded towards Wrex, and the krogan shrugged, downed his ryncol, then spoke.
"Travel arrangements for Tuchanka have been made; I'll pick up that salarian on Omega on my way." The old warlord grinned. "Maybe I'll drop by Aria for a quick visit, for old times' sake. Anyway, if the doctor is half as good as his dossier suggests, we do have a real chance of getting rid of the genophage, at least to an extent. The research will take time, likely at least a few years, but that's unavoidable. Also, in the meantime I can focus on knocking the stupid from the other clans, see if I can raise a more unified alliance of krogan. That way, even if Solus can't finish the cure before the Reapers get here, we'll have an army ready for them."
Shepard nodded, and Garrus spoke up.
"I am not going to re-enlist for Spectre candidacy; the Hierarchy already has a damn good Spectre in Nihlus, and there's not much I could do that he can't; apart from sniping and looking good." Tali snorted, and elbowed Garrus once more, as the turian went on. "I'll speak with my father, see if he's open to a few suggestions about improving comm lines, weaponry, establishing depots, and worst-case plans. And when I'm not on Palaven to listen to his tirades, I'll work with Sparatus and Pallin to shake up C-Sec a bit. We are not going to allow anyone to repeat the kind of stunt Saren and Benezia orchestrated." His mandibles flared in a predatory grin. "And besides, the Citadel seems to have some significance for Reapers and their allies; if they try anything else, I think it's likely it'll happen around here. Plus, somebody has to keep an eye on the Council as well."
After a brief laughter, Tali continued.
"After I'm done with certain necessary rites" her eyes narrowed on Wrex, who simply smirked, saluting her with his drink, "I'll go back to the Migrant Fleet, to see if I can convince my father and the rest of the Admiralty Board that we need to improve on our cyberwarfare and anti-mech capabilities. Admiral Daro'Xen will be ecstatic about that. Also, we'll have to devote a part of our forces to locating a suitable planet for colonization, though the Alliance promised help in that. If we can settle at least our civilians, we can free up ships for either anti-geth or anti-Reaper operations. Also, at Liara's suggestion, I plan to ask for a small strike force, and visit some old quarian colonies close to the galactic rim, see if the old databases and science outposts are still there."
There were nods around the table, then Liara took over.
"I've decided to take the offer of Admiral Hackett and Shepard, so I'll be moving to Illium, and open up a new information broker agency. That gives us a rather good cover for infogathering and small-scale expeditions in the galactic north. The new agency will also be aiming to become sizable and influential enough for the Shadow Broker to consider employing us as an external asset, giving us some access and visibility to its network." She raised a hand to stop questions. "I'm still considering how exactly we could do that, but Shepard and I have some vague ideas. Unfortunately, this will take time. At any rate, being an infobroker will also allow me to keep a closer eye on archeotech findings and possible excavations."
"Why aren't you going to Ilos, Liara?" The puzzlement was quite clear in Tali's voice. "I'd have thought you'd want to take part in the excavations there personally. Keelah, with your expertise and clout, you could easily be leading it!"
The asari's smile was wistful as she nodded.
"True, and that's what I would love to do. But, as someone" her gaze shifted at Shepard "pointed out, we are somewhat pressed for time, and that the Spectre corps would not mind having a reliable, independent intelligence agency other than the Shadow Broker available. Besides, it is not much different from archeological research..."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that's the main reason for you accepting that offer, T'Soni." Garrus' voice was a slow drawl, his smirk infuriatingly wide, even as the blushing Liara glared at him. Shepard cleared his throat, glared at the turian, and spoke when all eyes turned towards him - some curious, some mischievous, some both.
"For the time being, Liara will come along on the Normandy, we'll drop her off at Ilium once we are finished with the first part of the recon mission, so in about two-three weeks." The Spectre studiously ignored the chuckling Garrus and Wrex, but nodded appreciatively towards Tali, who dug an elbow into the turian's side. "By that time, we will have some additional assets available for Liara, both for analysis and security." He smirked at the asari, before continuing. "I seem to remember that you were rather impressed by a certain colleague of mine, hopefully this project will be less bloody than the excavation on Therum."
Liara nodded, her gaze mirroring the swirling, confusing mix of gratitude, revulsion, fear, and awe that she felt, when she realized just who Shepard was likely talking about. Sure, the man was very competent, but his sheer presence made her skin crawl. The operative went on.
"One more thing. I will provide each of you with some encryption codes and security tokens. They are to be used if you are contacted by people from Project Aurora. The identification will be keyed to each of you, and I would not advise trying to mess with them." His eyes rested briefly on Tali, then Liara and Garrus. "I mean it. No playing around, or it will get your brains fried." Wrex chuckled darkly, and shook his head as the operative looked at him. Shepard continued. "Said Project is the SA's new tool against xenoarcheological threats, like Sovereign. We will be working with them, and at some point, I plan to bring in the Spectres as well - or at least those I trust, like Nihlus, Bau, or Vasir."
The Spectre looked around once again, checked his omnitool, shared a glance with Tali.
"Any questions?" At the headshakes, the human nodded. "All right, then enjoy yourself. The Normandy leaves at 1400 tomorrow."
For a few moments, there was silence, then Wrex chuckled, downed his ryncol.
"Go on kids, party. Who knows, we just might see Shepard actually grow a pair, and step onto the dance floor - or maybe he'll ask T'Soni to teach him."
Liara fought off the urge to throttle the old krogan while trying to keep herself from spontaneously combusting. The others broke out in chuckles, and of course somebody started the betting pool - and things went from there.