Nos Astra, Ilium (18/07/2183)
Liara T'Soni felt torn between worry and wrath while she perused the latest intelligence updates about the Systems Alliance. In the past few months, she was forced to gain a rather closer insight into human minds and politics than she would have deemed possible before the Saren Crisis, and in her (perhaps biased, she thought with a slight blush) humans, for all their apparent and deep-seated flaws, were in many ways worthier and more admirable than her own kind. And just when she contemplated officially, publicly voicing her opinions on the extranet as well as her SA contacts, something like the Asgard Atrocity happens.
No, she was in no way immune to the plight of the suffering citizens - in fact, she had already discreetly channeled a substantial amount of resources from her personal portfolio into a relief fund the Alliance set up. She also could not but admire the sheer determination and valor of the system's defenders, the workers and ordinary citizens who already struggled to rebuild what they could, salvaging wrecks for raw materials, rescuing survivors, cleaning up hazardous materials and creatures (admittedly, the latter she only knew because of her own unique circumstances). However, the political ramifications were utterly infuriating and shortsighted in her opinion - already, there were riots when people demanded swift, genocidal reactions against the Hegemony, or even against the uncaring Council and its associates, who were just standing by and letting humanity bleed for them. The fact that Sparatus decried the batarian aggression hours after the attack happened and offered logistical and military assets, that Tevos offered access to the disaster recovery funds of the Council, that Zaal'Koris was ready to send quarian engineers to assist or that Valern directed both the STG and Spectre operatives to find and punish the perpetrators - all these were summarily ignored, never mind Udina's stance and calls for cooperation. In fact, there were distressing voices from the SA Parliament that demanded the recall of Udina from his post, and for the SA to wholly abandon the Council. Fortunately, sanity seemed to prevail, and these voices were in a minority - yet the mere fact that barely half a year after all the SA in general and Shepard in particular sacrificed for achieving the membership, such voices could be heard at all was more than distressing.
The military was closing ranks under Fleet Master Sheridan, his push for an interim martial law and military government was met with fierce resistance (again, resulting in riots, shootings, and killed civilians) - and while Liara did not particularly like the rather speciesist officer, at least he'd not neglect preparation for the imminent arrival of the Reapers. Unfortunately, she concurred with her analysts that the whole SA would likely be embroiled in a power struggle that had the potential to escalate into full-on civil war. And what frightened and infuriated her the most was that nobody seemed to consider that this may have very well been the whole reason some unknown player (likely the same that took direct action at Alchera) lent so much support to the batarians.
Her eyes narrowed, as she contemplated the report, then at the spurring of some half-buried instinct not entirely her own, she started referencing earlier data, looking for certain patterns, actions guided by seemingly illogical beliefs and hunches of prominent figures - and after several hours, the young information broker believed she found enough evidence to bring to the attention of those scant few SA personnel she dared trust in times like these. With a start, she realized guiltily that she'd have to reassess the SA, especially Cerberus-affiliated personnel of her fledgling firm. Even if she was confident of their loyalties, she did not know them all personally - well, except for Leng, and his partner, Jacqueline. Liara figured the ex-N7 could and would give her a hand in quietly double-checking the reliability of the personnel, and to be on the safe side, she'd contact Hackett as well, her experiences and memories all prompting her to trust the admiral. The asari also considered contacting Agent Lawson as well - while she did not know the AIS agent very well, she was aware that the woman was very dedicated to the same goals for which Shepard went to such absurd lengths, was privy to similar secrets and powers as Shepard, was working hard on getting Shepard back into the fight, and …
And she really should have known better than to dwell on things that might have been or still might be - unless Fate decided to play a merry game with them. Feelings, emotions were sometimes a liability in all jobs, more so for an information broker - yet she could not entirely shake them off when the mostly-dead Spectre was involved. Especially when she dealt with issues or people that were even tangentially connected to him. Perhaps it was still the lingering aftereffect of that brief, glorious, and horrific glimpse she was allowed into his mind - and once again, Liara decided to consult a trustworthy Matron or Matriarch for advice about such effects of involuntary melds. But there was so much to do, and with a sigh, she turned her attention back towards the multiple screens of information, contacts, projections and forecasts on her desk, fully intent to bury herself in work again - if only to shove aside bitter memories and dreams.
She was interrupted when a hand landed lightly on her shoulder - and she almost jumped out of her skin, even though she rationally knew that it could belong to only one person. Still, the laconic drell had an uncanny ability to fade into the background, being practically invisible; and Liara prayed to the Goddess that she would never have a need to see his skills being used first-hand. Looking into the bodyguard's onyx eyes, she swallowed, a cold dread settling in her core, a gesture of her omnitool ordering her VI to push sensitive files to pre-designed, well-encrypted offsite storage locations, as well as her omnitool.
"We got trouble." The deep, raspy voice was quiet, calm; he might have been talking about the weather on a distant planet. "Prepare yourself."
Before Liara could even start gathering information or her power, the whole building seemed to shudder as a muffled, distant explosion from somewhere down sent shockwaves into the sturdy structure. Lights and screens flickered for a moment, then changed focus to the internal security cameras at a gesture from the drell. It took Liara an eternal second to fully absorb what she was seeing. Black-clad feminine figures swirled into the offices, fading in and out of sight, their blades removing limbs, biting into flesh with a vicious, eager glee. No faces were visible under the masks the attackers wore, yet, they seemed to radiate an eager, psychotic glee as they massacred the surprised employees of Liara, few of whom could muster any kind of effective defense against such a surprise assault. And those that did manage to fight off or kill their shadowy attackers were dealt with by a masked man and his tattooed companion. Liara's biotics pulsed with fury as she fought to regain control of herself in the face of this betrayal.
"We are leaving, Lady T'Soni." The drell motioned with his omnitool, and stumbled, his eyes ocean-deep pools of black suffering. A fraction of a second later, the tide of sheer, utter wrongness, of unnatural, soul-devouring cold hit Liara as well, driving the primal part of her being into full panic. The temperature seemed to fall, waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm the tattered remains of her self-control while she struggled not to curl into a fetal position weeping and clawing her eyes out. Dark spots danced in her vision, her biotics sputtered as her consciousness teetered on the brink of the abyss. She was once again the small child, the helpless captive of a Prothean barrier curtain, a prey animal paralyzed by the apex predator intent on devouring her. Perhaps she would be better off just letting go, fleeing deep into her memories from the thing that battered on her sanity and self with lashing, vicious vortices. Perhaps she should have incinerated herself with her biotics - it would definitely end the pain knifing into her soul much faster. Perhaps she could have even thrown herself from the window of her office, and let the height and gravity do the rest. All these would surely have been more merciful than the fate awaiting her.
Yet something deep within her resisted. Maybe it was a spark of golden warmth briefly glimpsed in her memories. Or the image of a man who might become as close to her as she dreamed of. Or maybe it was her own self, the daughter of the late Benezia T'Soni, the heir of her legacy reasserting itself. At any rate, it was a moot point. The important part was that by the time a warp field ate a hole into her office door, she did manage to get herself somewhat under control - certainly well enough to call up her biotics and deflect the four monomolecular-edged disks aimed at her and her bodyguard.
Liara barely managed to control her terror, revulsion and fury as Kai Leng and Jacqueline entered the room, preceded by a wall of biotic force she barely managed to dissipate before it could pulp both herself and Thane - then the drell was no longer at her side, but embroiled in a whirling dance of death with Leng. Liara's eyes narrowed at Jacqueline, as the woman deployed four more of the hyperedged disks, a feral yet somehow distant, vacant look in her eyes. Then her corona ignited, and the asari fell into the timeless, fragmentary perception of combat, her mind only able to record impressions and the occasional detail while she fought with every erg of power against the tattooed woman and the lapping waves of wrongness, terror, and nausea that seemed to emanate from Kai Leng.
The young asari half-heard the taunting remarks, interspersed with the booming of handguns that accompanied the duel between Thane and Leng - and she occasionally caught a glance at the edge of her vision of how the drell managed to stay in one piece against a sword which could and did cut through flesh, armor, and biotic barrier alike. And yet Thane easily turned it aside just enough to avoid it, simply hitting the flat of the blade with a precise biotic field - or just his hands, wreathed in the same energy. Amidst the whirling dance, the drell even had more than enough situational awareness to deny any chance to Kai Leng for joining his partner, or getting a viable opportunity to shoot Liara - when Thane was even a bit out of position, those uncannily precise biotics of his pulsed, moving the human's weapon just a bit aside, hurling small objects at him or in the way; then the drell was on him, once again, fist wreathed in biotic force, pistol spewing death at the ex-N7. Yet for all his skill and experience, Leng was matching him, never letting up, not giving the drell an opportunity to focus his deadly attention on Jacqueline, or to assist Liara in any meaningful way.
The two biotics weaved a dance of their own as well, as they flung biotic fields at one another, turned the furniture into makeshift projectiles or shields, fought desperately over the control of the deadly disks - and the longer they went at it, the more Liara had to respect the abilities of her opponent. Sure, she had more raw power - as an asari, especially as a scion of House T'Soni, that was inevitable. She had several decades more of practical experience, naturally - despite being young for an asari, she was still more than thrice the woman's age. Yet Jacqueline has been molding herself (or was purposefully shaped) into a weapon, honing her skills for exactly this kind of confrontation. A year ago, Liara would not have lasted a minute against her, but after fighting alongside Shepard's crew, she did manage to put up rather more of a fight than their attackers obviously estimated. The opposing biotic fields tore apart furniture, melted or cut apart walls, windows, the concussive detonations of shockwaves and biotic explosions several times threatening to hurl the combatants to their deaths. Singularities and lift fields tried to turn their opponent into helpless, floating targets, biotic punches and kicks were deflected by barriers and stop-hits, and neither of the two powerhouses could spare the brief seconds of concentration and calmness to utilize a stasis field.
Liara swayed aside from a disk aimed at her throat, blocked a throw field with a singularity, redirected another disk towards Leng, embedded the third halfway into the wall, the fourth managed to cut through her barrier and tore into her armored coat, drawing a line of purple from her skin - and she barely managed to throw it away with a pulse of biotics before monofilament wires snapped out from it, seeking her flesh. The young asari melted the fifth into slag with a lucky warp field, the sixth was sent careening off by a shot from Thane, the last two stopped midway between her and Jacqueline for seconds - then the stalemate was broken by the violent destabilization of the opposed biotic fields, the explosion forcing all four of them to pause and shield themselves. A momentary pause followed while reassessing the situation - then Kai Leng smiled, a broken, horrific thing of metal and malice, before he nodded with grudging respect towards Thane and Liara.
Time seemed to slow down even further for the asari, as she saw Leng form words, the sound distorted, queasy, like a nail driven into her brain - she could not understand the drawn-out words fully, but she could feel the power and nauseating, utter wrongness pull back like the ocean before an incoming tidal wave. And to make things worse, Liara could hear running steps closing from outside - very likely the surviving masked killers were coming to join the fight, and even one of them would be more than enough to take her and Thane out.
The wild hope of the explosive combat bringing in the Nos Astra police was dashed as soon as Liara thought of it - after all, despite the bloodshed, it was still contained within a single company building, not endangering the populace at large … and at that moment, she made her decision.
"... field, full ..." Leng's rasping, mocking whisper clawed at her sanity, urging her to flee, to cower, to buckle down and weep - then Liara reached out with her biotics towards Thane, then with a cry of effort, flung both herself and the drell from the window, her corona blazing, a golden heat igniting for the brief seconds of flight somewhere in the back of her brain - then with a half-bitten painful scream, they landed on the pavement about two dozen floors down from her office. Before she could even get her bearings, Thane was already in motion, guiding and pulling her along into the depths of Nos Astra's alleys, towards a safehouse he established there.
The warning from Miranda Lawson arrived scant hours later to her omnitool.
Omega, Sahrabarik system (22/07/2183)
Most days, Bray enjoyed his work. Pay was good, the perks were excellent, and Aria was a definitely saner boss than the Hegemon or his ilk. Sure, she had a vicious, mean streak lightyears wide, she was ruthless to the point of cruelty, she only made an example of those who failed her without exceedingly good reason, and she only had two eyes - but for all that, she was intelligent, listened, and sometimes even accepted that her subordinates could not foresee or control the chaos that often erupted in Omega. Well, and of course as long as you did not break the famed Rule of Omega, she tended to leave you well enough alone.
Sadly, Bray thought that this would not be one of those happy, usual days. No, when the situation was already precarious with the three largest mercenary groups quietly conspiring behind Aria's back (as if Bray's people would not notice it), the Council just had to add two of its Spectres to the mix. All in all, the day was promising to be highly entertaining (from the skewed view of his boss/CEO/Queen, whatever she would feel like that day) and akin to a terrifying tightrope walk over lava-dwelling predators (in his own modest estimate). He tried to cheer himself up with the prospect of unleashing violence on those idiot mercs who were responsible for so much of his daily headaches, and the fact that he'd have a front row seat while Aria and the Spectres haggled. On second thought, he realized that said front row seat was more of a curse than a perk - if things escalated, he'd be practically at ground zero. Fun times, as usual. With a short but heartfelt prayer to the Pillars of Strength, Bray went to meet his destiny and entered the Afterlife.
The pounding music, swirling crowd, writhing dancers delivered the usual punches to the senses, yet Bray was sufficiently used to it after the years that he could pick up the much subtler signs and moods - and what he felt now was not to his liking at all. There was a conspicuous lack of mercs at the place, except for the usual few turians of Nyreen's Talons. His pulse quickened, as he rapidly typed on his omnitool, pulling up the latest intel reports from on-station. The lack of warning flags, of suspicious troop concentrations, of anything indicating that the three main merc leaders were doing anything out of the ordinary would have relaxed him on other days. Not today; in fact, he got even more worried about missing or simply not seeing something blindingly obvious and dangerous. Maybe if he had time, he could have puzzled it out - but when he reached Aria's usual box, he had to attend his boss, and shelve his worries. At least he hoped that the Spectres would be sane enough not to begin a fight.
The two Council operatives had a rather thick dossier, and Bray mentally ran through the contents he memorized, assessing the Spectres, trying to estimate how much of that dossier was factual, and how much was rejected from a Blasto screenplay for excessiveness. His quick conclusion was that both Nihlus Kryik and Tela Vasir probably were, if anything, underestimated in the reports - and he mentally winced at the likely fate of the less-than-thorough analysts sure to feel Aria's displeasure. At least it would not be him, and judging by the familiarity between the two asari, it may not amount to more than harsh words and a paycut.
"So, Aria, are you willing to accept our more than generous offer?" Tela's eyes twinkled with mirth, as she lounged back with deliberate carelessness, and even Bray needed a second to spot the signs of tension and alertness in the Spectre's posture. She was good at playing the indolent, slightly empty-headed hedonistic asari, that was for sure.
"You still haven't told me why I really should - or how exactly I would benefit from it, dear." Aria's voice was bored, her whole being screaming indifference. Except for those who knew her as closely as Bray did.
Nihlus grinned, his mandibles flaring in a predatory expression.
"Because we should not have to spell it out for you, Queen of Omega." The slight, somewhat mocking emphasis on the title had to be deliberate, and around them, Aria's guards inside the privacy field stiffened at the insult. "You have to have access to the same reports, or near enough, and you have been around for far longer than most. I would be surprised if you did not see the situation as clearly as we do."
Aria's voice was a frosty whisper, silk sliding along the naked eyeball.
"Yes, I am well aware of how deep in shit your precious Council is, Nihlus. That does not mean I give a damn about helping you, especially without compensation." She smiled then, showing teeth. "This is Omega, not a charity event on the Citadel. You have to do better than this if you want my cooperation, Spectre."
Tela Vasir laughed then, and Bray tensed, ready for violence at the sheer predatory sound.
"You have been playing the Queen too long, Aria. Think like a commando would - or better yet, think like you yourself would, if you had delusions of grandeur and plans for galactic domination." She sipped from her glass. "Don't you dare tell me you cannot perceive the puppets moving on the table. Not unless your chief lackey is an idiot" - Tela gestured towards Bray - "and idiots do not survive for over two decades at your side."
"That still does not tell me why you want to turn Omega into a damn fortress, station Citadel forces here, and expect me to be happy about it."
Nihlus took over.
"Because if our information from the Thessian archives and our associates in the SA is correct, the Collectors were involved kicking off this whole shitstorm when they destroyed Shepard's ship." The predatory grin made another appearance on the turian's visage. "And they tend to come via the Omega-4 relay. Do I need to spell it out in more detail?"
Tela.
"If they come in force, darling, you can bet your sweet ass that we will not hesitate in denying the station to them, if need be." The asari Spectre's eyes lit up with an almost manic fire. "Think how happy the Justicars will be when they are unleashed on your little kingdom, with the Council Fleet supporting them."
Aria glared at her, then at Nihlus, when the turian took over once more.
"We would prefer working with you, because you know are a known, sane quantity, and we would not have to waste resources in pacifying Omega." He raised a hand placatingly. "I know, it would be very costly, and that you could kill most of us in a duel. But you and your petty kingdom would fall sooner rather than later. Because this time, if we were to go to war against Omega, we would not care about casualties, costs, or the pacts you made with the Terminus warlords or Council politicians." The turian's smile was a tired, worn thing.
The two Spectres spoke in uncanny harmony, as only long-time, close comrades could
"We will secure Omega, no matter the cost. Do you want to be Queen of the station, or a spirit haunting the ruins, lamenting her former power? What shall it be, Aria T'Loak?"
The slow, sarcastic clapping of Aria defused the tension, as she leaned back and relaxed on her couch.
"Very nice. Very dramatic. How long did you practice it, I wonder."
"Not that long, Nihlus is very good at following orders when properly motivated." After the years in close proximity to Aria, the constant exposure to Afterlife, Bray thought himself immune to the traditional asari charms. With a simple sentence, a languid stretch, and a smoking gaze, none of them directed at him, Tela Vasir convinced him of how mistaken he was. Then again, she had been doing this for over a century, so perhaps he could be forgiven.
"Suppose I agree to this little idea of yours, because I happen to think that you see the situation correctly." Aria began, her tone and posture studiously nonchalant. "Why is your shadowy associate not involved in this, Tela? Why do the intelligence briefings and purchased reports not contain anything from the Broker Network?"
The two Spectres shared a glance, and Bray's breath caught at the implications. His mind raced, cursing himself for missing this small but in hindsight obvious factor of the latest briefings, then his eyes went wide, as he went a few steps further, his hand twitching towards his omnitool to confirm his fears.
"Because there is no way the batarians could have pulled off something like Terra Nova without the Broker getting at least hints. And considering how it affected the usual status quo, the Broker should have given advance warning, or at least, hints about the juicy bit of information he had for sale. Yet he was totally quiet about the whole thing, and there hasn't been much substantial information off the Network since the attack." Tela Vasir's eyes burned with barely-contained rage. "Do the math, Aria. He's either dead, or in bed with the enemy."
Aria's answer died in her throat as the station shuddered minutely, and Bray's omnitool flashed a warning. The batarian checked it, not caring about protocol or dangerous overreactions, and his eyes went wide. A gesture projected the images to the conference table, and he could hear Nihlus murmur a curse, while both Aria and Tela looked mutely, the Queen's eyes twin pools of infernal wrath.
On screen, a howling, berserk green tide wearing the colors of the Blood Pack swarmed from the depths of Omega, overwhelming the defenders, killing and destroying indiscriminately in their path. Crackling with strange energies, the feral roar of the krork mob and their krogan leaders were still drowned out by the never-ceasing gunfire and the whine of vibro-weapons brandished in green fists. The view from the docks showed the Eclipse troops, augmented with strangely-modified JOTUN mechs sporting unfamiliar insignia, overpowering Aria's defenders, storming the ships, getting control over the docked vessels, and more importantly, the orbital defenses, while their engineers immediately set to fortifying the access points.
The security systems glitched out more and more often as the Blue Sun cyberwarfare specialists took over subsystem after subsystem; their hacking programs, worms and viruses orders of magnitudes more efficient and intelligent than those of Aria's best hackers - and the Queen of Omega never skimped on cybersecurity. Yet now, firewalls presented at best a speedbump for the attackers, and Bray had barely enough time to send out a few commands and warnings to their troops before the console built into the table lit up with a sickly yellow light, and the deep, basso rumble sounded.
"I AM ASSUMING CONTROL OF THIS STATION."
For a moment, there was a stunned silence, then the lights flickered, and the screaming started, as the gates of Afterlife yawned open, and the swarm of the Blood Pack flooded the club, their howls for blood creating an unholy symphony with the agonized cries of wounded and dying defenders, the constant weapon fire, and the explosions of biotic fields.
Bray checked his sidearm and shield generator with a stoic calmness, sure that he'd be dead within a minute, two tops. Around him, the few bodyguards considered part of the inner circle did the same. Aria and the two Spectres looked more pissed off and wrathful than anything. Biotic energy sparked off both asari, and Nihlus was checking something on his omnitool, before nodding towards Aria.
"Our ship's still secure. We can get you out of here."
The Queen of Omega rounded on him, her eyes raging oceans of power and fury, a biotic-wreathed fist raised to backhand the offending turian. Tela interposed herself, her gaze deceptively calm, her biotic corona tightly controlled, with barely a spark showing, as opposed to Aria's blazing wrath.
"Don't be an idiot, Aria. Not even you can take on this horde - and we will need you now more than ever. Both for your power and for your knowledge." The asari Spectre's voice was tightly controlled, yet Bray could hear the underlying anger, much colder and more controlled than that of his boss. "And then we can return, get rid of these interlopers - so you can be Queen of Omega once again."
For an eternal heartbeat, Bray tensed, as he was sure Aria would not take it well, and lash out - and he would follow her, as he swore so long ago he would. Even into certain death, and beyond. Sanity prevailed, though - and with a cry of frustrated anger, Aria T'Loak, Queen of Omega, channeled her wrath against those who rose up against her and invaded her sanctum. The walls of Afterlife buckled as the vortex of biotic power roared within, gravity going insane within the confines of the club, crushing Blood Pack members and civilians alike, warping the building's structure, tearing apart everything - and amidst the storm of unleashed power, Aria walked, her face a mask of cold contempt, while behind, Tela strained to shield the rest of them from the Queen's wrath while they made their way towards the ship and escape.
Location: various (17-24/07/2183)
The galactic community, still feeling the aftereffects of the Saren Crisis, was sent once again reeling when the events at Terra Nova became public knowledge. Alliance politicians and military leaders may have wished and tried to prevent the leaking, but even such persons knew the ultimate futility of those half-hearted efforts.
The blow to the SA warmachine, though by no means fatal, was still severe. The losses both in material and lives, however tragic, were dwarfed by the implications of how the batarians managed to pull off such an act. The internal uproar threatened to tear the Alliance apart, as the purges and witch hunts spun rapidly into being, then out of control, as the need for scapegoats threatened to overwhelm common sense.
Cults popped up seemingly overnight, prophets and demagogues proclaiming apocalyptic vision, exhorting the masses for seceding from the Council and turning inwards, for purging unbelieving heretics and incompetent traitors responsible for the loss of life, for submitting fully to the Council and ask for their help. These were, of course, the expected, controllable groups. Far more insidious were the slowly-worming congregations who now flexed their muscles in the halls of power, exerting far more subtle influence than previously credited - and unsurprisingly, their aim was towards the institutions and people specifically designated to combat their influence.
The N7 Deltas and the AIS came under fire for not being able to prevent or predict the assault, or that the batarians would get their hands on tools powerful enough to pull off such a spectacular feat. They were also criticized for not containing the catastrophic reactor failures in time, thus resulting in galactic scrutiny on the previously well-kept secret of the Yutani-Yi reactors and their internal specifics. Simultaneously, that technology itself came under fire, for the glaringly obvious insanity and dangers involved, as so well demonstrated above Terra Nova. Talking heads, pundits, and experts alike ranted about a return to the days of fire and insanity a hundred years in the past, when the vanguard of humanity's special forces fought to secure Terra itself from the depredations of the denizens of Irem and Leng, and the esoteric forces supporting those inhuman beasts. Of course, the incompetence of today's relevant agencies was a result of them being co-opted by the last remnants of those dark cults and beings, a fact helped by the secretive and isolated nature of the institutions and operatives. Obviously, both the N7 Deltas and the AIS would need a closer, more open oversight, from upstanding citizens of unassailable morals and sanity. After all, humanity would not allow itself to be dragged back down into the Dark Age!
The military was harshly criticized for not responding quickly and decisively enough, for not wiping out the batarians years ago, for being so hidebound in rules and procedures that a dreadnought captain had to ask permission for firing on an asteroid that was a clear and present danger (nevermind that Captain Feige, like most sane people, was uncomfortable deploying C-type shells in a situation where their effects might have spread to the civilian populace). In the sake of fairness, other personnel were pilloried for not following due process and risking a substantial asset in hare-brained stunts (ignoring the fact that Captain Langley's actions were found to be fully reasonable, had decidedly positive results, and were grounded in established emergency protocols usually confined to theoretical training scenarios for the sheer unlikelihood of them happening). And then there was the failure of ONI to consider as well - if the agency could not notice the batarian special forces moving in such scale, what good was it? After all, everyone was sure that the squints could not pull off such an operation without extensive and obvious preparations, and the ONI was in place to specifically monitor and predict such events.
Internally, Fleet Master Sheridan and Director Bergman were scrambling to find and plug the leaks and security risks, purging their organizations from deserving liabilities and useful assets alike amidst the public furor. Sure, both of them had more than enough sense to spirit away those subordinates they considered victims of circumstance - yet they did so to build their own powerbase. They were only human - and that showed in how the purges did seem to hit a fair number of known opponents of both in their respective organizations. Simultaneously, both battled for the public opinion as well, with Sheridan advocating a more militarized stance to deliver vengeance on the batarians and preempt such tragedies from occurring ever again, and Bergman opposing him, urging for caution and rebuilding. Interestingly, both of them had scathing opinions on those who wanted to secede from the Council; Sheridan argued that the other races had their own grudges against the batarians and humanity would be foolish to bleed alone when turians were just itching for an excuse to smash the Hegemony - while Bergman reasoned that the aid and support from the Council races were invaluable to rapidly recover from the severe wound dealt by the attack. Both also agreed, publicly and vocally, that to abandon the Council so soon would be a grave insult towards everyone who sacrificed their lives for the Alliance attaining the position on the Council.
Of course, there was also the matter of Cerberus. The supposedly black project gone wrong, those involved driven insane or simply just being allowed to let go of their inhibitions, to conduct an orchestra of terrorist acts and mayhem from suicide bombings and assassinations on Terra, to bombings on the Citadel, attacks on outlying colonies with WMDs (including blowing up a Yutani-Yi reactor), and random assaults against nonhumans as far as Ilium. While the existence of such a group did not entirely surprise people, the seemingly vast resources it had at its disposal had been a nasty shock. To be able to strike at so many locations practically simultaneously, with such numbers and high-tech equipment was more than enough to give birth to rumors about the organization not being so rogue as the SA government would say - and due to the circumstances, this was not a claim that could be easily dismissed. The Spectre Corps and STG alike wanted to get access to any investigation into Cerberus, to chase down names, rumored supporters, possibly co-opted agents, sympathetic personnel, equipment suppliers, and so forth. The Speer Administration had to play a very, very delicate game with the issue, as any otherwise valid security and confidentiality reasons were at risk of being flagged as simple obstruction while data and personnel is whitewashed. Still, the AIS was willing to cooperate, but that too raised concerned voices.
The fallout from the attack on Terra Nova was keenly felt on the Citadel as well. Councilor Udina considered himself lucky that his four peers were sane enough not to immediately capitalize on the Alliance's plight, but he was well aware that the support received would have to be balanced in the future. Still, he considered it a good bargain, and argued incessantly for accepting the aid, brokering a number of comparatively minor yet prestigious concessions from various human companies, to preempt and offset the surely incoming little requests from the other races. Meanwhile, he also used every occasion to voice his opinion that while the batarians would have to be dealt with, ultimately, it was much more important to find out who was behind the whole atrocity - after all, not even batarians would be stupid enough not to realize that an act like this was nothing less than an act of war, and the Council would have to respond in kind.
The Spectres were ordered to ensure that nothing similar happened to the major Council shipyards and capitals; and at the same time, the agents had to delve into the background of the attack, to find connections, to drag the hidden player into the light so it could be eliminated. Despite being a unit composed of rather diverse individuals, the consensus among Spectres leaned towards somebody wanting to cause a war - as a diversion to something else. Perhaps others would have discounted these ideas as outlandish, yet the Saren Crisis clearly showed to the Spectres that at times even such insane-seeming scenarios were grounded in reality.
Executor Pallin and Lictor Vakarian suddenly had their hands full with riots and violence against batarians, with a sudden influx of religious nutjobs preaching apocalyptic visions with frightening intensity and zeal, and with several quiet, barely-thwarted attempts at numerous important officials, up to and including Councilors Tevos and Udina. Nominally, these attacks were perpetrated by Cerberus, and on the surface, the assumption seemed correct. Yet both turians suspected that there was something else as well, a more disturbing aspect - namely, the Shadow Broker being involved. A discreet investigation made it clear that the known associates of the Broker Network were withdrawing from the Citadel quietly, unobtrusively, vanishing into thin air - or in a number of occasions, they turned up dead. Neither Garrus, nor Pallin knew whether this meant that the Broker was involved directly in the attack on Terra Nova and had turned against the Council, or if he was deposed, the deaths and disappearances merely a sign of the internal power struggle. Despite their differences, both turians decided to err on the side of caution, and opted for assuming the Broker having turned against them - with all the terrifying implications such a move would mean.
Quietly, special STG, Blackwatch, Serrice Guard, and C-Sec operatives were dispatched under Spectre leadership to preempt some possible scandals the Broker could spring upon the influential public figures - yet everyone knew that this was, at best, a token effort. After all, nobody wanted to air their dirty laundry, and the governments of the Citadel races had several nasty, well-kept secrets - and now, all scrambled to secure them even further, to limit the damage the Broker could surely cause when he started using those secrets he was famous for hoarding.
On the far side of a balefully glowing mass relay, beyond a vast debris field of ancient spacecraft, the immense station was coming fully alive, the insectile inhabitants swarming over the numerous vessels, in preparation for the harvest.
Their pawns had already secured a stronghold controlling access to the base, thus the General (or rather, the guiding intelligence behind it) decided on deploying and rousing the assets of the Black Arks, in addition to the ships designed for procuring biological material.
Soon, their time would come, and their master could finally feed and grow once more.
In a city of shadows, lies and treachery, a conclave of siblings, of power incarnate debated whether a more direct approach would be needed. So far, things were mostly in line with their aeons-old plans and prophecies, but with freedom in their sight, the volcanic leader argued for action, for finally unleashing their might, to take back their rightful dominion. He argued that the seals holding them back were the weakest yet, and if their sister was correct in her visions, this weakness would not last long, and they may not get another opportunity to get free for millennia - and they were all so very tired of waiting and hoping.
Still, the dangers of their ancient enemies noticing them, or even worse, following them to their shadowy domain was very carefully weighed. Risking freedom was one thing, but risking the species of their followers was another - none of them were really willing to test what would happen if their shorter-lived kin perished en masse.
As a compromise, a scouting force would be dispatched - effective enough to intervene and tip the balance in the favorable direction, but small enough to hopefully pass beneath notice. The preparations began to deploy the flotilla, and the cautious optimism ran through the vast city, invigorating the denizens - and naturally, giving birth to countless schemes and ploys to take part in the expedition, or to stay away from it, and use the other's absence to one's benefit.
After all, the outside was surely vast and their rightful heirloom, but the important was the status now. The future was and would be taken care of by the guiding family.
On a plateau under a dead, black sun, a majestic figure stirred within the void-black pyramid as the cadavers impaled around to contain it came alive, hungrily questing for any trespasser, their warning screams echoing in the void and the higher dimensions alike.
The being turned its visage towards the distant sky, its eyes half-lidded, mouth distorted into a vulture's eager, malicious smile. The voice that came from its throat would have plunged any listener into the maelstrom of madness - especially when they realized the figure was laughing triumphantly. And why would it not? Everything was unfolding according to its design, and soon, it could once again step on stage - if it chose its mask right.
Then again, it mused, any one of its masks would be a correct choice for unleashing even more chaos and providing a welcome distraction from its boredom.