A/N:

So...as it turns out, I had more than a few dental adventures. Also, tax issues, my mom's chemo bill and repairs to my car kept me working a lot longer than expected. I had enough time this weekend to scrape this chapter together.

I'm very grateful to Liethr and the rest of the Editing Gang who helped this chapter come together. Before they went over it, it was a lot more disjointed in places.

The next chapter starts adding more people directly to the team. Reviews are always welcome.


'The true danger of so-called 'pragmatic politics' - better known as tyranny - is that one loses sight of decency in the name of expediency. Moral relativism is an oxymoron, yet one embraced by every being who ever thought evil means justified noble ends, and only to late realized evil can only lead to further evil. '

- Admiral Charles Pressly, 'At the Right Hand of Justice'


Shepard waited impatiently in the shuttle bay of her base as the sleek looking pinnace slowly came to a halt, the landing gear sliding across the floor with the barest whisper of friction. She suppressed her impulse to smile slightly at the sight of the batarian-styled ship, as she always found it slightly strange the leader of Cerberus would be flying around in a non-human pinnace. She had to admit it was certainly a top of the line craft, but still…

She'd been awoken to discover that the Illusive Man and Trellani were coming in person. As Miranda so elegantly put it, they were here to 'discuss some issues about our next actions'. As she folded her arms, she gave that wording a bit of thought.

She wasn't sure if she liked the idea that TIM expected direct control of her actions. It wasn't simply a matter of trust, more of a matter of her intent to keep her actions highly separate from the rest of Cerberus even if it was on the up and up.

The fact that – so far – he'd provided her with the tools and the talent to get what had to be done accomplished was great and all, but didn't square anything in her mind about what else Cerberus could be up to. And while she certainly felt the Collectors were a huge threat and something had to be done about the crazies in the SA, she was still dubious about the fact that a guy who thought killing off the Pope was appropriate to be the one calling the shots in any endeavor.

Unfortunately, as she'd quietly discussed with Tali and Sedanya, she didn't have a lot of options. The Council was going to be stupid about things and she couldn't trust the SA in the slightest. The STG would more than likely dissect her to figure out how she worked and no one else would listen to her or believe her. Even if they did, they wouldn't just hand her everything she needed to go after the Broker.

She watched the pinnace doors split open and swing down, forming a walkway ramp, and the inner doors slide apart to reveal the Illusive Man's patrician features. He stepped down from the pinnace with his usual poise, dressed in a dark black suit with a collarless shirt, set off by gold cufflinks bearing the Cerberus insignia.

She rolled her eyes as she stepped forward, noting Trellani following him, wearing her usual black gown with a reddish-orange scarf and a small Cerberus pin.

She felt into place besides them as they began to walk. "Got your message. I'm guessing it isn't you dropping in for coffee."

He gave her a thin smile, the glowing circles of his eyes rotating a moment as he gazed at her. "No, unfortunately not. I dislike being away from my own sphere of operations for a long period of time, but I've come into new intelligence that I feel a need to discuss with you. And Trellani has an item you will find of great use, as well as the training to make use of it."

Trellani gave a single nod, her hands full of a long black case.

Shepard shrugged. "You know the place as well as I do. Let's head to operations. I have no idea why you gave me an office, but we might as well use that."

The walk to the elevator was short, as Harper didn't deign to glance around, and Trellani was reviewing something on an info-pad. Shepard figured if the stuff Harper wanted to talk about was so important he couldn't – or wouldn't – even trust it to his fancy-ass QEC comms network, it must be pretty important indeed.

As they reached the elevator, she tapped the panel, then turned. "You have any more leads on Collectors? Or any of these people you want me to work with, like Archangel?"

Harper shook his head as he got into the elevator, followed by Matriarch Trellani. "Unfortunately, no. There have been no further attacks on colonies yet – although this is not surprising. We had a series of surveillance ships on point at several mass relays in the region – some of which would have been required to traverse between Freedom's Progress and Omega."

He dipped a hand into his pocket, coming out with a silvery cigarette case and a lighter. His expression tightened. "They did not see any such Collector vessels at any time, leading me to believe the Collectors may have the same sort of 'jump' capability as Nazara possessed."

Shepard winced. "Fuck, that's just great. Any chance the Council or SA has stepped up trying to secure the colonies?"

He lit the Compineros cigarette in his hand and gave a wry smile. "By now you are familiar enough with the goals of the Citadel Council to answer your own question. Aside from deploying some STG teams and two Spectres - who are wasting time going after you instead of the Collectors - they haven't taken any action at this time. The Alliance is considering making an offer of support to at least Horizon, but most of the rest are not economically worth the time or trouble – and politically sensitive at best. And the political issues are why Cerberus is being forced to act."

She shrugged. "Because the Council is stupid?"

He actually chuckled. "Not really, from their perspective. The Alliance has no real vested interest in wildcat colonies – they only allowed them to begin with as slender cover for corporations to conduct less than ethical research and to clear out malcontents from other established colonies. The Council is unlikely to react to a situation involving human colonies until the Alliance does, and when they do they will undoubtedly do so in an attempt to rein in human growth and power."

He puffed on his cigarette. "And the Council has a long history of refusing to escalate events when they're unsure of the end results. The Collectors are advanced and dangerous – I suspect as long as they limit their actions to the Traverse the Council will do nothing directly."

She nodded slowly, and he continued. "The curious thing is that the wildcat colonies outside of the Traverse – such as the handful in the edges of the Black Rim, or the trio in the Volian Traverse, haven't been hit at all. Some of my analysts think the Collectors might have a maximum range for their little jump tricks to work, but we have nothing but supposition at this point, and no way to clarify further without another attack. My own supposition is that they are keeping things in the Attican Traverse because they know full well no one will react to those disappearances."

He exhaled smoke. "As for the search for finding you some additional personnel...that's part of what I need to speak to you about." He glanced up as the elevator chimed and the doors opened out into the operations area.

She nodded, leading them both to her office. Sitting down at her desk, she leaned back in the comfortable mesh chair and exhaled. "Alright, I figure it probably isn't the safest thing to have you running about, so what is so important it couldn't be handled via QEC?"

Harper sat down across from her, while Trellani simply leaned against the wall, along with the case she carried. The man's voice was a touch exasperated as he spoke. "We suffered a penetration of one of the tertiary cells providing funding for Project Revenant. I've got my people cleaning it up now, but the long and short of it is that whoever did so now knows Cerberus spent billions on something involving construction and aerospace assets, as well as biotic, bio-medical and cybernetic research. I'm going to have to actually shutter one of my front companies and eat the losses. Which also means I have to restructure several other elements."

She shrugged. "And...?"

Harper took another puff of his cigarette. "It is a troubling development, as it means the trail leading to you and your location is in possible danger. Remember, this base is not self sufficient, and requires funds, supplies, eezo, and parts. If the support companies are compromised, so is my ability to assist you." He inhaled on his cigarette again.

"From all the indications, the penetration was most likely accomplished by the Broker's people. He's definitely sniffing, which I find curious, as up until now most of Cerberus' activities have been economic and not impinging on his own domains. While the loss of the cell itself is irritating, I've had to waste time moving funds and evacuating other cells, which has – at least in the short term – crimped some of our finances. It's going to take some time to straighten that out, and I'm going to have to be very careful that all links to this location are actually purged."

She nodded slowly. "You think the Broker connected the dots between you and me? That fast?"

Harper's eyes narrowed. "It is very likely, considering that the Council was able to do so. We're not prepared to have your true identity revealed, and we can't afford for the Broker to figure it out and poison the Council against us before our preparations are completed. For now, just to be sure, I've deactivated all QEC links to here except the one from my own HQ, and all comms will now route through there instead of any other methods. I'd also strongly recommend not deploying any further ships except the Normandy SR2 under full stealth for the time being. At least some of the data taken would have let him know what we were working on involved asteroid construction in the Traverse."

His voice grew somewhat quieter. "My larger concern is that the method used to penetrate the security around the funding cell may have compromised the other operations the cell was funding – namely, searching for Archangel and the Sisters of Vengeance. The cell was not isolated properly in terms of how it was investing and interacting with another cell, and the Broker's hacker was clever enough to delete all of the information from our own servers, leaving us unsure all of what was accessed."

She winced, and he tapped his ashes into the ashtray on the corner of her desk. "More importantly, some of my deepest-cover assets on Omega and Ilium suggest that we may not have much more time to locate either of them. The largest gang elements on Omega – the Blue Suns, Eclipse and the Blood Pack – have decided to unite forces to try to hunt down and kill Archangel once and for all. Until now they've been fighting among themselves – and trying to undermine Aria – almost as much as they've gone after him, but now the gloves are coming off. His recent actions have simply pushed them too far, and Aria isn't going to stop them. Unless he goes to ground, they'll ferret him out sooner or later, and we still have had no luck in establishing contact."

He inhaled on his cigarette again. "The situation with the Sisters of Vengeance is also becoming delicate. They haven't taken any actions in the past few weeks, and my operators on the planet have confirmed the Broker is eventually going to send Tetrimus after them. I'm not sure how good they are but I have severe doubts that they can handle a direct assault if it comes to that. Unfortunately, we still have made little to no headway in reaching out to them either."

He leaned back. "In both cases, you may be required to move in and rescue them after those going after them have localized them for us. So you'll need to wrap up your business with Warden Kuril to obtain Jack as quickly as possible and be in a position to react."

She sighed. "And I still need to deal with Okeer. Fuck. Alright." She pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. "I'll have to keep a low profile for now, and be ready to move at any moment. I'm headed out to Dirth today, to meet with Pressly. Miranda told me there's someone else you want me to meet while I'm there."

Harper nodded. "There is. Our most deeply placed … informant, so to speak, has come across some startling information you need to know. He's recently been reassigned to a rather delicate assignment, and so you'll have to go to him. Once you have the information he's obtained, I'll leave it up to you on how to proceed with it. My main concern is that this informant will be an instrumental part of re-introducing you to the Alliance and the Council once the proper moment has been reached."

She huffed. "Fine. Then what?"

He tapped his ashes again. "I would suggest picking up Jack from Warden Kuril's station, as the good warden has informed us that our price to release her to our custody is acceptable. Mr. Massani will be ready for pickup early next week, taking him along to meet with Kuril might provide us with some useful intelligence. Ms. Goto has found out some troubling information involving a person of interest on Bekenstein, but Trellani will be the one to handle that. She should be done by the time you can pick her up on your way from Purgatory to Korlus."

He scrubbed out the cigarette. "Once you localize and deal with Okeer – however you see fit – I would wait to take any further actions until we can either establish contact with Dr. Solus, or until we get an alert about the Sisters or Archangel. Given that we don't have any methods to deal with these paralyzing swarms of the Collectors, obtaining a research source for those would be the next highest priority."

Shepard rubbed her eyes tiredly. "That's a lot of things to do in a pretty short timeframe. What are you doing?"

He glanced at Trellani briefly before speaking. "Reorganizing financial assets, directing the search and intelligence efforts into locating Archangel and the Sisters of Vengeance, and fending off attempts by both Hades and the Broker to penetrate my networks further. The reach of Cerberus is still sharply limited, as we are rather light on personnel still. The largest part of our power is actually under your command at the current time."

She snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"

He gave a shrug. "I expect you to believe that I have no real need or use for military power or equipment, as my goals for the most part cannot be achieved by violence or direct action. There is a time and place for such things, and I do have my own assets along those lines, but they are sharply limited for a reason. I prefer to cut, when I must, with the precision of a scalpel – not the sort of blunt mayhem generated by the resources I have allocated you."

He leaned back in his chair. "And given that my own predilections for resources run to economic and intelligence assets, you should be able to figure out I have not given you any level of either. Without eezo, cash, and fresh intelligence feeds, there is not a lot you can do – nor do you or anyone currently on this base know my own current headquarters location or anything about my other assets."

She sat back herself, scowling as she absorbed this information. "Whatever. Just don't think I plan on trusting you unconditionally anytime soon, Jack. I'm working with you because you're the only game in town, but that doesn't mean I'm going to think left to your own devices you won't get up to something."

He inclined his head. "Be that as it may...I would suggest we each operate in our own spheres and that you can at least trust I am less morally compromised than, say, the Systems Alliance?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shit, that's a low fucking bar to hit." She glanced over to Trellani. "You had something you wanted to give me or show me?"

The asari matriarch nodded, the serene smile on her face just a little too wide for Shepard's taste. Trellani usually looked normal enough, but there was an edge to her voice and a hint of something in her eyes that always worried Shepard.

"Yes, there is. A little of both. Perhaps it is merely my own wish to befoul as many of the so-called 'traditions' of the Temple of Athame as possible, but there is one final tool I think you will find useful in your quest, especially if you must fight Tetrimus."

She moved to pick up the case she'd brought on board, setting it down on Shepard's empty desk a moment later and popping the small electronic latches on the sides. It opened to reveal a scabbarded warp sword, the blade almost straight, the hilt heavily curved and the cross piece made of some blackened metal.

Trellani plucked it out of the case, drawing the blade slowly. The blade itself was also black metal, with harsh, angular elder asari sigils stamped deeply down the middle of the blade.

"An associate of Jack's obtained a minor amount of a fragment of the hull material from the wreckage of Nazara. It was used in various experiments to attempt to find possible weapons to use against the Reapers, when they arrive, and it was discovered that most of our current armaments are pitifully inadequate. In particular, mass accelerators are the worst possible weapon to use, as the material is extremely stable in its kinetic aspect."

She placed the tip of the weapon on the floor. "After the testing was done, destructive heating was attempted. As it turns out, the only thing that can deform the metal is a super-condensed plasma forge using mass effect fields to compress and intensify gravitic effects. As this is the same method used in creating both Silaris armor and several other asari arts, it was decided to see if we could actually do anything with the material. As it turns out, working the Reaper hull material is expensive and highly difficult, but we were able to use it to make several useful items."

Harper spoke up. "Mostly armor suits for some of my more … aggressive employees."

Trellani continued. "What was left was not enough for any other use, so I made use of it to fashion an asari warp sword, mostly to see if the metal could actually be turned to such a purpose. I will admit to a certain … ironic symbolism in attempting such. The eezo chamber of the weapon had to be made larger than usual, giving it a stronger warp effect, although it is more draining than a normal warp sword to use by a fair margin. It is also far heavier than a normal warp sword, but that will not affect you given your enhanced strength."

With a slight grimace the matriarch focused, lifting the blade, which sprang into flickering blue flames along the serrated edge. A moment later they snuffed out, and she placed the weapon back into its sheathe.

"I would like to train you on how to utilize this weapon, and draw forth the fire. As you well know, no asari has ever handed over the knowledge of how to use such things to non-asari, and typically only members of the Thirty – "she hesitated, gritting her teeth, then smiling savagely – "...may they all die in flames and agony...and a few of the most favored of the Clans are taught how to use them."

Shepard stared at the sword a long moment. "You made a warp sword out of Reaper scrap?" She shook her head. "Ahern was trying to break me of my up-close fighting style, and I've never done that much armed CQB."

Trellani shrugged. "As with the invocations I showed you, I can pass the knowledge along. Sparring will take some time, to familiarize you with the weapon. You do not need the skill of a vishan blade-mistress, merely the ability to use it in any fashion, to truly cement the idea that the Butcher must be an asari."

She held the sword out. "Additionally, Tetrimus is an extremely powerful biotic, and engaging him at range is the very worst sort of idea. His nickname of the Dagger comes from a powerful evocation he has developed that cannot be blocked or stopped and only dodged if you see it coming, a literal fatal-in-one-strike power called the Beam. From the reports we got from our agents on Omega, this was the power that ended the life of your friend Shields."

Shepard winced, and the asari continued. "He can only utilize it at long range – and if he does so you will most likely be dead. Up close you have more chances to overwhelm him, and a warp sword is powerful enough that he must devote a large portion of his power to blocking it."

Shepard shrugged and took the thing, frowning at the weight a bit. "Like I said, I was planning on heading out to Dirth today..."

Trellani glanced at Harper, who shrugged. "One day will not make that much of a difference in the timeline of your other plans, but a day of training will give you enough of the basics to use this weapon effectively."

Shepard sighed and nodded, tapping her desk comm. "Miranda, please let Chief Haln know we'll be headed out tomorrow morning. I have something I need to handle today, it looks like."

Miranda's voice was clipped but not harsh. "Understood, Shepard. That may be for the best anyway, the man's cyberware is not of the highest quality, and the medical team would like to refit some of the spinal mods and the cybernetic arm at the least."

Shepard nodded to herself. "Very well. Shepard out." She glanced up. "Should I have her prepare you two some place to stay?"

The Illusive Man shook his head. "That will not be necessary. The matriarch has some things to attend to once she's done with you. She'll need to borrow a shuttle and head to Purgatory Station to handle the business aspects of Jack's transfer, and then move onto Bekenstein to assist Ms. Goto with her own issue. I'll depart now and return to my own operational facility... I still have work to do."

She shrugged. "You'll pardon me if I don't feel the need to walk you back, then. This knowledge-meld bullshit gives me a terrible headache, and I'd rather get it over with as quick as possible."

Trellani nodded. "Very understandable. If you will give Jack and I a few moments, I will meet you in the base armory level to begin."

Shepard stood up, and exited her offices. As the doors shut, Harper glanced around and smiled. "While you are here, get the reports from Ms. Chambers on how things are progressing, and make sure Mr. Ezno is on-pace to finish clearing any final links to us from the systems here. Miranda's reports have been very positive so far, but I'd like confirmation of those from an independant source."

She nodded. "I shall. I will also speak with Shepard myself, and see if I cannot get a better idea of her mindset. As for the situation on Bekenstein, what do I do if Ms. Goto's little situation on there is too dangerous to complete by myself?"

Harper smiled. "Kai and Pel are occupied, but Brooks and Rasa are free."

Trellani grimaced. "I'd almost rather listen to Minsta than those two."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard's training with Trellani was useful in one thing – realizing how easily Benezia could have murdered her on the Citadel. She'd known warp swords were dangerous but slicing through inches of reinforced steel like cotton candy was an eye-opening experience.

Asari warp sword-dancing was far different than human swordsmanship. A warp sword would cut through almost anything used to block it aside from another warp sword, and even then it depended on who had the greater biotic strength. Trellani demonstrated a number of moves, each one which incorporated using biotics to maneuver the body.

Sword-dancing was less about slashing or thrusting the blade and more about shifting one's own body or center of gravity, and about oblique angles and generating an opening for a separate biotic attack. Trellani guided Shepard through the most basic forms, before pulling out a pair of metal rods that acted as sparring weapons and taking her through a full attack and defense routine.

Shepard's reflexes, thanks to the integration of her cybernetic limbs with her eyes and gyroscopes, were advanced enough that no normal asari would even have a chance at landing a straight blow on Shepard. Combined with the stances and with judicious use of her superior speed, Trellani felt Shepard could dominate most warp swords users who weren't blade mistresses or war priestesses.

They sparred for several hours, pausing to eat lunch and let Trellani recover slightly. The matriarch had swapped her flowing gown and shawl for a plain silvery jumpsuit, and as she ate a light meal in the base mess decks, Shepard found herself curious about the asari.

"Still not understanding why exactly an asari would hook up with goddamned Cerberus."

Trellani elegantly sliced apart a piece of fish into small cubes, putting one into her mouth and chewing calmly, pausing to swallow before speaking. "Jack is not the monster you seem to think he is. But the answer to your question should be, with reflection, obvious."

Shepard arched an eyebrow.

"As I once told the good doctor Minsta...who else would join a group of terrorists aside from yet another terrorist?"

Shepard frowned. "I'm not sure I follow that."

Trellani smiled, sipping some water. "Cerberus, at its core, is an ideal and an idea. The concept that humanity has always defined its own course, and that if humanity is to prosper in the future alongside other Citadel races, it cannot do so from a submissive, supplicated position. The plight of the quarians and the krogan – and the fate of the rachni – are simply another data point alongside what humanity endured during your First Contact War when it comes to how the Citadel – or should I say, the asari and salarians – view other species."

She cut another piece of fish. "In order to do that, as outlined in Jack's manifesto, there must be a group willing to stand watch against those who would seek to enforce such sublimation on humanity. Without such, subtle actions would and will reduce your race's independence in a short amount of time to nothing at all."

Eating the slice of fish, she chewed, then smiled. "And there is little difference in that and what the Thirty have done to my own people."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "So … you just decided this one day?"

The matriarch leaned back slightly, shaking her head. "For me, I came across certain things in my studies that revealed to me issues with the Church of Athame, and with the so-called 'holy nature' of the Thirty. Until that point I was as zealous – maybe more so – as any other asari about the unity of our people. When I learned these truths, I realized we had been deceived. My people have been used, abused, and lied to – and those who are responsible for such have not even the shallow and cruel excuses your Alliance does of survival for such acts. They merely crave power and dominance."

Shepard nodded. "The Council of Bitchriarchs didn't strike me as very, ah, humble. Or looking out for anyone's best interests but their own, given how they treated Liara." Her jaw tightened at the name of her wife, and Trellani nodded.

"Indeed. The leaders of asari society have their reasons for acting how they do. And in doing so, they have crippled and damaged asari society for … millennia. They have caused the deaths of tens of thousands or more asari in their squabbles, and they are, I am convinced, hiding information from the galaxy at large regarding a great number of things."

Trellani sighed. "When I uncovered what I did, I attempted to obtain an explanation. I ended up having to battle my own superior, Benezia. And when I fled, trying to warn my family and friends of the danger, I found I was too late. T'Armal had my entire family brutally murdered, my acolytes tortured to death, my bondmate executed, and then sent both ardat-yakshi and Broker assassins after me. They broadcast lies about me to the Asari Republic and made me into a galactic criminal."

Shepard winced. "And so you ran to Cerberus?"

Trellani shook her head, eating a few more pieces of fish before speaking. "No. I knew Jack Harper – our business ventures intersected in a few places, before I was cast out, and I did a fair amount of business with Cord-Hislop. But at the time I had no idea Jack was the Illusive Man. No, I fled first into the Traverse, attempting to deal with Aria. When that did not go exactly how I planned, I gave serious thought to attempting to give what I knew to the salarians, when a Broker wet-work team lead by Tazzik found me."

Shepard remembered Tazzik from the fight on the Citadel. "Ouch."

Trellani gave a thin smile. "I was unable to defeat him. The few acolytes I still had who'd fled with me were massacred, and I was forced to flee before him. I would have met my end there if not for the intercession of Cerberus. They didn't attack him to save me, however they did attack him for their own reasons, and I was able to escape in the crossfire."

She laughed. "At the time I found it deliciously ironic. Now I wonder if it was the calm tides of fate."

She sipped her water again. "Later on, I was being hunted on Bekenstein by the Broker as well as Justicars when Jack saved my life. He was initially … quite skeptical of some of my claims, but once he was able to verify them, what assets and information sources I had gave Cerberus its first real penetration not only into the asari but certain salarian circles as well. I was a useful partner from a business and intelligence standpoint."

Shepard leaned back. "And the fact that Cerberus was cutting up asari?"

Trellani gave her a cold smile. "If Cerberus put every member of the Thirty to the sword, I could care less. I am not childish enough to think that morality or ethics has any place in this debased society dancing in orbit around the clash of asari and salarian, of dalatrass against matriarch. My own people have cursed me and hounded me. My own people would rather, for the most part, believe in lies and allow themselves to be used rather than face ugly and hard truths."

She wiped her hands. "As far as I am concerned, the only asari worth saving at this point are the ones currently residing in the Alliance. You of all people should understand, given how they treated your wife while she lived among them. Benezia was not unkind, and if she would act in that fashion, you can only imagine the sort of willful ignorance a salt-crested bitch like Thana T'Armal would endorse."

Shepard frowned. "It's just..." She shook her head. "A lot of what Cerberus was up to when I shut it down was sickening. It was the groundwork for this NOVENSILES garbage or ways to kill off large numbers of aliens at once. If the Thirty are bad, I can get that – some of the High Lords of Sol, at least the ones involved in this mess, are probably bad apples too."

She placed her hands on the table. "That's not tantamount to me writing off all of humanity as a lost cause and being cool with cutting them up for science experiments."

Trellani shook her head. "I have done much, much worse than that, Shepard. As I said, Jack is no monster. He will not shy away from what must be done, but it is not out of cruelty. And he has a fault of becoming too ensconced in his maneuverings in the economic and intelligence arenas to keep a good eye on other projects. It has burned him before."

She shifted in her seat. "I, on the other hand, have lost so much that I see no reason in pretending to care any longer. If people live or die, if people suffer, if worlds are wrecked or atrocities committed … I cannot find it in myself to be affected."

The purple eyes narrowed. "When you have watched your own family killed in horrible ways, thinking that you somehow betrayed them, watching the light die in their eyes and feeling your bonds snap like brittle bones, siari is no comfort. When your lover gasps her last in a froth of blood, and is tortured to death, simply to make a point, you lose sight of the fact that revenge is 'wrong'."

Trellani smiled. "As I once told another person questioning my motives...morals get in the way of vengeance. I want the Thirty to die, slowly and painfully. I want them to suffer, to watch their lies come apart in the tides and disintegrate. I want their perfect little cities to burn, their filthy estates to be smashed into gravel. I want to see their despair as their bond-mates die, as their children are put to the warp-sword, as everything they built turns into ash."

The mellow voice hardened. "And if I have to kill a million souls to get there, or commit atrocity upon atrocity to see it happen? Your people have the most wonderfully ironic idiom to cover that scenario. One cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs."

The sheer hate and vitriol in the slender matriarch's voice sent a shiver down Shepard's artificial spine, and she thought a few seconds on that. "If you kill people who had nothing to do with your suffering, just to get at the bastards who did, how are you any better than the Thirty you hate so much?"

Trellani laughed, a cold sound. "Oh, Shepard. It is … lightening and somehow wholesome to see that even with all that has been taken from you – your wife, your home, your childhood, your society, even your very life – you still retain that iron core of fundamental decency. It is one reason why Jack chose this unlikely project, this returning you to the shores of life. He said that you would prevent Cerberus from becoming that which it shouldn't. That you would always do the right thing because you wouldn't let yourself do the wrong thing."

The matriarch stood, wiping her mouth. "I am not as strong as you, young human. I am far, far worse than the Thirty – and I no longer care if I am worse than they, because when it is over they will be rotting meat and I will use their ashes to fertilize my rosebushes."

She smiled. "Enough of this. Let us finish our practice so that you have time to rest before you set out tomorrow."

Shepard stood up too, draining her coffee before setting the cup down on the metal table. "Why are you teaching me all this? The restricted biotics, the sword dancing. Is it just to piss off the Thirty, to thumb your nose at them?"

Trellani paused. "Partially, which may seem immature to you but remains highly satisfying to me. But more importantly..." She made a gesture of siari separation. "...there is a certain satisfaction in knowing that you are likely to be the instrument of the Broker's destruction. I would love to kill that being or those beings myself. But if that is not to be, I want the knowledge of knowing my teachings were useful in bringing the Broker down."

Shepard could only nod at that. "That's not an if, but a when. I'm killing that fucker, whoever or whatever he is, if it's the last goddamned thing I do."

Trellani smiled. "And now you know how I feel about the Thirty. Let us train you further, so that hopefully it will not be the last thing you do."

O-TWCD-O

The next morning, the Normandy launched from the base, making its way to the Verthas trade lane. Shepard drank coffee and grimaced at the galaxy map.

The worst thing about being a cyborg, she mused, was that when you didn't get a good night's sleep you still looked as if you had even if you didn't feel that way. She glanced down Ops Alley, noting the stations manned by a pair of Vigil-driven robots, and then sighed.

"Hey, Vigil."

The silvery sphere snapped into existence next to her a second after she spoke, its voice as sharp as ever. "Yes, Shepard?"

She eyed the thing. "What happened to primitive? And what are you up to?"

The sphere rippled as it floated above the navplot. "I prefer to use that appellation more on those who ask me stupid things. You are usually not in the habit of such. I was focused on preparing the set of runtimes I will be dispatching to ensure you are not detected by any security apparatus on Dirth."

She nodded, sipping at the coffee. "I have a question, which I doubt is stupid. You've complained before that the Protheans didn't listen to your advice, and that is what got them all killed. What should I be doing that I'm not?"

The sphere pulsed, a more serious tone entering its voice. "At this point, there is little you can do except gather evidence and information to make your leadership listen to you and I." It paused. "I would suggest that you move as quickly as possible to ascertain exactly what the Collectors are up to. The fact that I still have not localized any incoming Reaper transphotonic signatures is baffling. They usually react very rapidly and directly to the destruction of their sentinel Reaper."

She nodded slowly. "You said there was something in the Citadel – another AI, more powerful than you that took out Nazara. Perhaps they are scared of that?"

Vigil floated over towards the science station. "Perhaps, although unlikely. To borrow your colorful parlance, I have no fucking idea what that thing was, and I find myself less and less inclined to investigate the more I cogitate on the matter."

Shepard quirked her lips. "Starting to rub off on you, hmm?"

Vigil floated over to her shoulder. "That is somewhat by design. The Inusannon felt it would be best if I absorbed some of the cultural and infomemetic natures of my users, and I am designed to acclimate and adapt to those around me over time. The Protheans had a fixation on being 'superior' to the rest of the associated servitor races in their empire – the 'primitive' epithet I use so freely was the favored saying of your predecessor among the Protheans, Javik."

She arched an eyebrow as she felt the ship shudder with a mass relay translation. "I'm guessing he died in the fighting – that is, he wasn't one of the ones in suspended animation on Ilos?"

Vigil pulsed. "I am not sure. He was instrumental to the war effort, but at the end the Protheans moved him away from Ilos. His ship was overtaken by indoctrinated spies and his crew and mate were certainly killed by the indoctrinated hordes but he was still fighting when Ilos lost contact with the rest of the Empire, so it is unlikely he was sent back to Ilos to be placed in suspended animation.."

The AI's voice lowered. "He was very irritating...but a strong fighter, and he did not give into despair until he had lost almost everything. I am almost hoping he died fighting – most of the caches of Prothean soldiers placed into stasis outside of Ilos were discovered and converted by the Reapers."

She grimaced. "Yeah." She glanced at the status repeater, then tapped her commlink. "Chief Haln, ETA to the Dirth system is roughly one hour. I'm going to get changed, meet me in the hangar bay in forty-five."

Haln's gravelly voice answered back. "Yes, ma'am. Should I go armed?"

She snorted. "Not necessary. My main concern is getting down there without being noticed, as Dirth is the place I'm most likely to be recognized. Miranda has an idea for a disguise, but weapons would draw more attention than we need."

"Understood, ma'am."

She clicked off, glancing back at Vigil. "I presume you'll be handling getting me past whatever customs there are?"

The sphere gave a wobble and what sounded like a snort of laughter. "You have to ask?"

O-TWCD-O

The shuttle ride down to the surface of Dirth was a mix of nostalgic and depressing for Shepard.

The world had recovered nicely from the batarian raid against it, the scars of the invasion long since healed. Wearing a respiration mask and in somewhat baggy spacer clothing, Shepard pulled up her omni-tool and tapped a command into it. Her hair slowly began to lighten in color a few moments later, shifting from black to brownish red and finally lightening to blond after about thirty seconds.

Haln watched this with amusement. "That's a neat trick."

She snorted. "Well, it isn't really hair. Miranda tried to explain it, something to do with hue-shifting nanites or some shit. All I know it saves me some time and the pain of dyeing it." She pulled out a pair of light-suppressive goggles and put them over her eyes, and grimaced. "So you know the story?"

He nodded. "You have second stage Rorgal's disease with the associated lung scarring. You're here to see a local specialist since Benson doesn't have any doctors with the proper equipment. I'm your fiance." The last was said dryly enough that Shepard chuckled.

"Blame Miranda for the cover story. Then again, she probably has some experience in sneaking around, so I'll go with her recommendations. Anyway, we're coming up on the spaceport now. Hopefully this will go quickly."

They broke through the cloud layer and descended rapidly through sparse air traffic to touch down at Victory Spaceport. Shepard remembered this place as a war-zone, burning and filled with terrified civilians, as she and the rest of her unit had fought to block the batarians from reaching them.

She arched an eyebrow at the large white statue in front of the spaceport, that of a female in heavy armor with a shotgun standing in front of a pair of children. She swallowed, and exhaled sharply. Dirth, at least, had never been a place that had made her feel hated or unwelcome after she had saved them, but giant statues of her were always a bit much.

They landed without further incident, disembarking at a slow pace and making their way to the primary docking customs station. Shepard adjusted the fit of her facial mask, the combination of it and the goggles obscuring most of her features, while Matt handed the tired looking woman at the customs station their forged SA travel visas and citizenship chits.

The woman was in her late thirties, with pale gray eyes setting off her darker skin tone and braided hair. She glanced over them and tapped the scanner console, nodding a moment later. "Welcome to Dirth, Mr. Jones, Ms. Intes. The hospital district is reachable by ground-car directly, there is a travel service in the main concourse that can take you to Shepard Memorial Hospital. Do you have anything besides the handbags to declare?"

Haln shook his head, holding up the small cooler he held in the other hand. "Not really, just a few beers we bought on the station. We'll only be here for the day, once we've seen the doctor and visited a local friend we'll be headed back to Benson."

The woman ran her omni-tool over the cooler, and then slid the travel passes through her computer and nodded. "Then have a pleasant visit."

Haln picked up both sets of bags and set off towards the main concourse, Shepard trailing and glancing around. There were hardly any people in the spaceport, hardly surprising given the fact it was ten in the morning and most commercial or freight traffic did business at the orbital station. She waited until they were out of earshot and then spoke softly. "That went … smoothly."

Haln nodded. "Yeah it did. Just how powerful is Vigil, if he can hack the SA's customs databases like that?"

Shepard shrugged. "I … really try not to think about it, Matt. TIM says Vigil is more dangerous that it lets on – certainly what little I've seen terrifies the fuck out of me. I watched it literally hack the entire galactic transmission network when I sent out my Butcher messages...that took it less than a minute."

The taller marine shook his head. "I see now why in the little briefing Ms. Lawson gave us she told us to be polite to the thing at all times." He stepped through the double doors into the concourse, finding the nearest travel stand and moving towards it.

Fifteen minutes later, they were heading south along the main traffic corridor of the city, turning slightly west as they descended. Most of Hennson City, the capital of Dirth, was rebuilt heavily since she'd been here. The refurbished colony modules and boxy plascrete buildings she remembered were mostly gone, replaced by slender towers and long rows of low-slung permacrete and armaplast single-family dwellings.

The aircar dipped out of the traffic pattern to slowly glide towards a seven story tower, touching down lightly on the landing area set to one side. Trees and a flower park flanked the entrance to the tower, along with a pair of security mechs.

Haln stepped out of the air car, and Shepard followed, pushing her hair out of her face and glancing around. She glanced over at the marine. "Lead the way, I guess. Here's hoping this goes well."

He nodded, walking towards the tower. She tapped her commlink. "Vigil, we'll need access to this tower – there's a security mech service and key-card entry, looks like."

A short pause and then Vigil spoke. "Done. I've also gone over the video logs at the spaceport and scrubbed the entries of your hiring the aircar. The security is very light...and by that I mean pitiful and about as effective as small children yelling 'go away' at me."

She shrugged and clicked off as they approached the tower door. Haln glanced at the bots, who simply waved them through. Shepard smirked as the doors slid open and they entered the tower's lobby. The lobby was laid out simply : an information and news station linked to SA-EIGHT, the official SA alert and news network, some benches, a pair of small restaurants tucked off on either side of the main bank of elevators, and some office space – doctors, attorneys and the like.

She glanced at Haln. "What now? I've never actually been in one of these colony towers before."

He looked surprised, but nodded at the elevator. "He's on the fifth floor. Most towers like this have a single floor of mixed use offices and four or five floors of apartments – usually either ten, six, or four to a floor, depending on the sizes."

He tapped the elevator button and the doors to the left-most elevator cab slid open, and the two of them got in. As they closed and the elevator began to ascend, Shepard gave a small shrug. "Yeah, I grew up on Earth, so I'm used to habblocks and row houses in the NYARC. I get what this place is supposed to be, it's just a little different than what I'm used to."

The brown-haired chief nodded. "Well, Pressly lives here by himself. His son and his son's wife live a floor down from him, and I think they help out with groceries and the like. Half the ops techs from the Normandy died, a couple who were off-shift when we got hit visit from time to time, and a few of his friends from his last command as well. That's … really about it, except us marines who see him when we swing through."

The big man shifted his stance as the elevator came to a halt. "I got two uncles who live here, so I swung by when I could. Money is tight, unfortunately. Or it was." He gave a smile. "Your, uh, group pays extremely well, about five times what the SA paid me."

Shepard arched an eyebrow but nodded. "They're a bit … extravagant. They had wood floors in a place they woke me up at that they planned to blow up from the beginning. Wasteful, but hey – it's his money."

Haln took the lead, walking past several metallic doors set into the narrow hallway until he reached one with the name 'PRESSLY 050232' stenciled neatly to one side by the data slot. He tabbed the haptic comm panel below that. "Say, Charles, you in? It's Matt Haln."

The panel lit up a second later, Pressly's voice sounding weaker than Shepard remembered. "Hello, Matt. Door's open. Didn't expect you to swing by."

Haln opened it, stepping in, and Shepard followed. The room inside was decent sized, twenty feet square, with wide windows overlooking the city on the far wall. A comfortable sectional couch took up one corner, crosswise from a haptic entertainment console with bookshelves flanking it on the other. Doors in each of the side walls were ajar, and the third corner of the room had a cut-way to a small kitchenette and dining area.

The walls were textured in pale silver paneling and a shadow box of medals and awards hung above the couch. Sitting in a lift chair next to the couch was Charles Pressly, his head still shaven. Some of the man's muscular bulk was gone, his face lined with several fading scars and one eye covered with a simple black eye patch. His right arm was occupied with a data-slate, while his left was a fairly low quality cybernetic conversion that started at his elbow.

He glanced up from the slate, his one remaining eye tired looking, and flicked his gaze over Shepard without recognizing her before moving back to Haln. "You're looking good. Matt. I'm afraid I don't know your friend..."

Haln placed the cooler down on the table, opening the top and extracting a beer. He tossed one to Pressly, who caught it with the cybernetic arm without difficulty. "Eh, you should probably have that first, old man."

Pressly arched his eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Shepard chuckled, tapping her omni-tool Her hair darkened back to its original shade even as she pulled off the mask and sunglasses. "Hello, Charles."

Pressly took a long look at her before popping the tab of the beer and drinking heavily.

O-TWCD-O

"...that...is a pretty hard tale to take in and believe...ma'am. I'm going to have to ask how I'm supposed to verify you are who you say you are. You could be a clone conditioned to believe things, someone surgically altered to look like Shepard, or … hell, I don't know. Anything but a dead woman come back to life. What is the proof?"

Haln shrugged. "Y'know, most of the rest of the marine team had their doubts too. We already interrogated her for a good three hours when she showed herself to us. There's also the fact that that Joker and Tali were there, as well as Doctor Sedanya, and all of them vouched for her. Also, Vega thought up the idea of pulling up a piece of Prothean text online that had been translated to English, and having her translate it for us on the spot without access to her omni. It's her."

Shepard shrugged. "Look, I didn't believe this bullshit when I first woke up from whatever the fuck they did to bring me back either. But to answer your question, Sedanya says I'm not a clone. I don't get most of the science myself, but I kept the scans she did on me on my omni if you want a look."

Pressly sipped the second beer he'd opened and gave her a long thoughtful look. "...no, that won't be necessary, ma'am." He sighed. "I suppose I should be happier about this, it's just a shock to take in. It … upends a lot of my beliefs. The Church says death is the final transition."

Shepard examined her artificial hands and smiled thinly. "I can't answer that question. I remember sitting there with that last cup of decent coffee in the cockpit, going to my quarters, the ship blowing up, getting you guys into a pod, and fucking dying. The last thing I saw in my mind was Liara...and then I'm waking up in a fancy-ass hospital room." She met the man's remaining eye squarely. "I'm still not handling it well myself, but I can't afford to go to pieces until I get the fuckers who killed Liara and my friends, and stop the Collectors."

She exhaled. "After that...I don't know. Maybe I'll go talk to the Pope or something."

Pressly's face tightened as she mentioned the death of Liara and the rest. "...I see. I don't know what to think... but I don't really think it matters right now. Like you said, you have more important things to be worried about." He tilted his head. "Which makes me ask why you're here, ma'am."

She gave him a long look. "I'm .. .well, before we get into that - Pressly, what happened to you?"

He gave a cough. "Politics happened, mostly. After the Normandy went down and you were declared dead, I was in the hospital a long time. By the time they stabilized me and I was conscious again, the events on Omega had already gone down and General von Grath cashiered out. The SA Admiralty Board called me and a few others up to get an idea of what happened to the Normandy at a formal inquest."

Haln sneered. "A witch hunt more like it."

Pressly nodded, his expression grim. "They came to the conclusion that the Normandy's stealth system had to be sabotaged by someone on board at the time. That put severe doubts on the reliability of the crew. Additionally, since I was on watch when the Normandy was hit, they decided it was my fault the ship was not prepared for combat."

Shepard spat. "What kind of fucking shit was that? I'd stepped away three goddamned minutes. There wasn't even fucking space dust in that system when I left the cockpit. Stupid desk-driving morons, they wouldn't know a threat if it jumped down their throats."

He smiled, the first real smile she'd seen out of him. "Maybe it is you." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Bottom line was that they told me I would sign off on a report taking responsibility and identifying the attackers as geth."

She lowered her eyebrows in a thunderously angry expression. "And if you didn't?"

He sighed. "What you see here. My citizenship was reduced to tier II. I didn't qualify for cybernetic corrective therapy for my spinal damage, leg damage, and only the lowest quality arm replacement. I was officially discharged in 'other than honorable' conditions and my pension eliminated. On the other hand, if I signed, they would have paid for everything, I'd have been promoted quietly and shuffled off to some post on Earth."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "So why didn't you sign, aside from the fact that you knew it wasn't the geth?"

He sighed. "Because it wasn't the truth, ma'am. Because if I did, and took responsibility for it, there's no telling what else they could have forced me to sign. Because signing it would have been the same as saying my ops team fell down on the job and would have gotten them all dishonorable discharges. But most of all..."

He met her stare. "Ma'am, at the time, the only thing I could think of was that if it wasn't the geth and they were demanding we say it was them, instead of investigating the real issues and how the Normandy could have been detected, that meant the SA knew exactly who had killed us. I thought it was possible the SA had set us up to die and I wasn't going to play along. They were pretty upset about that...it got my son in trouble and he had to not reenlist. But I wasn't going to lie for them."

She nodded, and placed her hand on his still broad shoulder. "I'm glad you did the right thing, Charles, although I'm really sorry it cost you." She exhaled. "In a way, though, I'm almost relieved the SA continues its usual way of acting like a dick, since it makes it easier for me to ask you what I need help with."

She pursed her lips. "I need you as my XO again. I have a talented … well, person – but she's not a good XO in a lot of ways. She's trying to wear too many hats at once – medical specialist, liaison to the person behind my resurrection, base executive officer, ship's XO, personal assistant, intelligence coordinator – and she's flailing a bit. I need you there to pick up the details I miss on."

Pressly gestured at his body. "I'm more than a little busted up for that kind of work."

Shepard snorted. "That's why I want you to come. We have top flight cybernetic surgeons and state of the art medical facilities...shit, most of me is silver now."

Haln nodded. "They fixed up the problems I had with my cyberarm in about two hours, and upgraded the entire spinal package to a point where I can't even feel it anymore. I feel like I did before I got hurt. They fixed up Emilo's cybernetic leg as well, the one he spent so much money trying to make work right that never would."

Pressly sat there for long seconds, pausing to finish the second beer and motioning to Haln for a third. He opened it, face pensive, before looking up at Shepard.

"You said you work … with … Cerberus. That the people with you work for you and only you. What are you going to do if Cerberus turns out to be as bad as it was when we took it out last time?"

She smirked. "Laugh my ass off and kill them all again. I don't trust Harper, and after a long talk with Trellani I am convinced that bitch is every bit as crazy and dangerous as Jona Sederis. If they try to get me to go along with anything I don't like I'm gone, and I've made that as clear as possible." She paused. "To be fair … Tali and Joker have been with them two years and haven't seen anything they saw as shady."

Pressly grimaced. "But there could be atrocity and we wouldn't even know about it." He sipped at the beer. "Matt, I take it you and the rest of the marine team signed on? What do you think?"

Haln sipped his own beer, sitting on one of Pressly's couches. "I think that Broker fuck needs a bullet in his head and these bug things need a shot of RAID. If the Boss Lady says we work with these Cerberus pukes, we do. The ones I've seen back at Shepard's base are pretty straightforward, if a bit … uh... augmented?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow and Haln coughed. "Ezno and Taylor look like Mr. Universe contestants, and that Lawson lady...you can't expect me to believe that shit's natural."

Shepard burst out laughing.

O-TWCD-O

Pressly agreed to go along, and Matt stayed behind to help him pack a few things. Pressly would need to talk to his son about being gone for a bit, and Shepard left him to come up with the cover story he'd be using while she set out to head to meet the informant Harper mentioned.

The drive in the aircar was relatively short, and the location described was an older industrial building on the outskirts of the city. She got out of the air-car cautiously, but the area was pretty much deserted, and the only entrance into the building – a heavily reinforced durasteel door in an equally outsized and armored frame – was the only way in.

Making sure her disguise was back in place she walked to the door, which slid open at her approach. She stepped into a long, narrow room, the door closing behind her. The walls and ceiling were brushed steel, while the floor was heavy rubber squares meshed together. A single security camera swiveled to towards her, then the door in the far side of the room opened.

She frowned and stepped through this second door, coming out into a much larger room. Various haptic monitors and view-screens occluded the walls, along with a massive map of Dirth's continents, while a blade rack of servers hummed quietly to one side. Doors led off from the main room, most of them shut, but at least one was ajar, revealing yet more computer equipment. Just based on what she could see, whoever was here could monitor activity and communications over most of the planet.

A long, low-slung table dominated the room, and sitting on the edge was the thick form of Commandant Dravus Chisholm, his peaked cap set on the table next to him and his expression set into a smirk.

Shepard froze, and the Commandant chuckled. "I'm guessing you weren't expecting to see me, Shepard? Not surprising. It would have been very poor operational security for Harper to give you any information about me prior to you getting here without problems. Welcome to the Commissariat monitoring station for Dirth." He spread his arms in a grand fashion. "You might as well lose the disguise."

She paused, then pulled off her mask and goggles. "It wasn't my idea, I assure you. Haven't seen or heard of you much since Noveria. And here I thought Commissars were supposed to be incorruptible."

His smirk twisted, as he lit his customary cigar. "Nonsense. Nothing is immune to entropy. Granted, the new batch of Commissars, the chipped up ones they brainwash from the time we kidnap them off the streets, they're pretty much incorruptible. But even they break down over time, and more than a few go bad. You just never hear about it because we police our own."

He gestured to himself. "Us older types get by with a cortex bomb and hypnotic conditioning, which Cerberus broke a while back. It isn't easy, and it requires a lot of juggling to keep it from being detected, but so far I've pulled it off."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't get me wrong, Shepard. I'm still loyal to the SA. I dislike criminals every bit as much as I did before. I don't do this out of enforced loyalty, but because it needs to be done. I just don't happen to think the current leaders – or the plans they have – are in the best interest of the SA. Rourke would be appalled at what they plan, and I'm not the only Commissar who isn't happy about what's going down, the few of us who actually know. It's why de la Muerte went out of his way to cover you when you made your little side trip during your honeymoon."

She winced. "He knew? About me going after Kyle's information?"

He shrugged. "He suspected, let's say, that you knew something. His hands were mostly tied, and he was busy trying to ferret out saboteurs in Fourth Fleet. But he made sure that the Commissars assigned to you were sympathetic, personally trained by him, and kept most of the Commissariat from keeping close tabs on you like they normally would to any former Z2." Puffing on the cigar, he smiled. " For now, though, we have bigger problems." He exhaled. "You know President Windsor was forced from power, along with most of his cabinet, correct?"

She nodded. "Some bullshit about Eliza being his daughter...and misappropriation of funds. I didn't bother reading up on it since it happened only a few months after I … died." She shrugged. "I mean, I feel sorry for the guy, but as far back as Noveria I knew he was playing a little fast and loose with the rules. I figured some of what he approved for me or had me given authority over was … not quite according to the regs."

Chisholm tapped ashes from his cigar on the floor, smearing them with a heavy boot. "True enough. That was the core of some of the charges against him, at least publicly. He was basically breaking the law when he set you up as his personal operative. Spectres are not supposed to be accountable to government officials in that capacity, and certainly giving you private AIS forces, legal arrest powers, and the rest of the things he had planned if you had not died were ... not even of dubious legality. His forced rerouting of ships to your battle group rankled more than a few naval officers, and there was a strong undercurrent of outrage at BuPers - and some Commissars - when he allowed two aliens to simply assume commissions as Lieutenant Commanders on the Kazan."

He grunted, puffing on the cigar. "But honestly? It's all bullshit. Sure it was not legal, but what should have happened was him getting his hand spanked. Instead, his enemies used that as an opening, and then made up a ton of additional, fabricated evidence for worse crimes, such as embezzlement and the like, related to his eventual plans for you."

She frowned. "I was dead - why bother?"

He gestured with the cigar. "Because, I suspect, Windsor wasn't playing the game he was told to play. He'd already tumbled to some things being off in the Alliance, and after you brought him bits of information and Harper fed him some more, he was going to put a stop to it. He'd planned to set you up as his personal agent in that regard, blow some things wide open, and maybe get enough blackmail material to force whatever the Manswells and the Chus were cooking up into the open. He made a good stab at keeping his intentions quiet, but he wasn't careful enough, and when his people got caught snooping, I think someone in the High Lords finally figured out what his plan was."

He sighed. "Instead of being able to deploy you, he got injured in the assassination attempt. That meant he had no control over you, and allowed someone in the SA - supposedly that slime Saracino - to send you off after the geth. I'm not sure if the SA knew you'd get killed out there, or just wanted you out of the way, but I suspect the latter. When you got killed, he had no weapons to use against them, and they had him where they wanted him."

He puffed on the cigar again. "It was pretty ugly. Accusations came from all directions, AIS, Commissars, Navy, and the Senate. Not only that - from what little I know, his own father and his brother sold him down the river. They framed him for quite a bit of things, but the truth about Eliza was that she really was his illegitimate daughter – and the mother was a Williams. The High Lords really didn't like that."

Shepard sighed. "Ouch."

The Commandant nodded. "Eliza wasn't actually killed in the attack, but was damn near dead and would need some really expensive therapy to survive. And as it happened, she was basically in the hands of the Manswells. From what I can determine, they met with him in the hospital and forced him to admit to guilt, and exiled him to Dirth. As long as he kept quiet, they'd fix Eliza up and let her live with him. That let them put Huerta into power. And Huerta, well..."

He dumped his ashes. "Let's just say the gray-box the man has is remotely editable by certain parties, and that a side effect of his surgery means they had plenty of opportunity to implant more than a few post-hypnotic suggestions."

Shepard grimaced. "So they directly control the President. Fuck."

Chisholm nodded. "Yeah. For the moment, the Manswells are pretty much pulling all the strings, sight unseen. They've got Windsor under tight isolation surveillance, to make sure he doesn't talk, along with cortex bombs in him and Eliza. It took me a while to maneuver myself around, but eventually I was put in charge of his security, and got a chance to talk to him."

The Commandant leaned forward. "The thing is, whoever put the hit on Windsor used some assets of a group Manswell put together called Hades. From what I can tell, publicly Hades is just another racist follow-on to the old Cerberus, but privately it's where they've stashed Richard Williams. He's working on something in the Black Sector that even Commissars aren't cleared to see. My information suggests Williams had the assassination on Windsor done himself, rather than on some orders of the Manswells."

She frowned. "Why?"

He half turned, picking up a haptic scroll-sheet, a disposable plastic flimsy with pre-programmed graphics burned into it. "I suspect it happened after Richard did some thinking. The cover identity he is currently using is that of a distant fourth son of Maxwell's nephew, one Richard Manswell. It's airtight, and … well, this hit the newsies this morning."

She took it, reading.

'HUERTA NOT SEEKING REELECTION – TAPPING NEW PARTNER, RICHARD MANSWELL, AS ALLIANCE BLUE CANDIDATE.'

She cursed. "Oh, what the fuck..." She glanced up.

Chisholm smiled. "There are very special laws on the books when any of the High Lords or their houses takes the Presidency, but even more special laws if a Manswell does so. It gives him a fair bit more power than the average standing President...and he retains immunity to prosecution by the Commissariat. We have no way to stop whatever he's up to."

He puffed on his cigar again, dumping the ashes and chuckling. "It's a clever idea. Everyone thinks Williams died not long after the First Contact War, and those who knew he survived assumed he died with the rest of Cerberus. The plastic surgery is very good and the identity is heavily backstopped with enough references no one will question it."

She folded her arms. "Harper thinks Williams was working with Reaper tech. He could be fucking indoctrinated. Almost certainly any of his people are."

The Commandant chucked again. "There's a good possibility of that. We'd erected some of the sensors the Citadel people came up with to detect indoctrinated people, but one of the first things he did was have them removed from the Alliance Governance Complex, saying if they had never detected any indoctrinated people in the previous two years they weren't worth the high expense to run. Already he's being hailed as just what the Alliance needs – people love the Manswells, and with his size and looks he comes off as some kind of god-emperor."

Shepard sighed in disgust. "And there's no way to prove he set it up. Fuck. The Alliance is not going to be welcoming to my resurrection, then."

Chisholm shook his head. "Probably not." He stood up. "I doubt Harper has pieced this together – Richard Manswell, aside from the size, looks nothing like Richard Williams – they even altered his voice. But the threat is real, and it's getting worse. For him to openly pursue power in this fashion means whatever plans he has in motion must be getting close to a phase where he can start enacting them." He grimaced. "Given what little I know of those plans, that's not good for anyone."

She nodded. "Yeah, well. I don't suppose there's any chance I could see the … Mr. Windsor?"

He shook his head. "Not anytime soon. Security is stupidly tight, and even with me being in charge there's too many other Commissars and lancers around that might start something."

She nodded. "Can you request commissars for your staff? I'm worried about the ones assigned to me and Liara."

Chisholm rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Jiong is stuck with that Delacor guy. D'Alte was hurt pretty badly, got close to being recycled, I think. I'll see what I can do for her, but obviously I can't tell either of them you're still alive."

She nodded. "I know. I just … they were some of the few friends I had, and I want to make sure they'll be okay." She sighed, pushing her hair back a bit. "Is there anything else?"

The big Commandant shook his head, puffing on the cigar again. "Not really. I wanted to make sure you and Harper were aware of this threat, because it's going to be a lot harder getting you clean with the Alliance with that asshole in charge, and it puts a crimp in the stated plans Harper has told me about so far."

She grimaced. "Yeah, well...I'm starting to think maybe the Illusive Man has a damned point about ever trusting the SA, even though I hate the very idea he might be right." She tossed the scroll-sheet back to the big man. "Thanks for the heads up."

He tucked it away, nodding. "I've used my authority to make sure you are clear to get back to the spaceport, but don't hang around very long. Security looks lax, but there's backstopped hard-line security cams and sensor nets leading to the Commissariat base in Ninteh City, and I don't have authority over those."

She smiled. "I'll be careful."

He tapped his omni-tool and the doors slid open. "Then go with the grace of our Father. And it is good to see you once more."

She left the building, getting back into the aircar, and then hit her commlink. "Vigil, are Haln and Pressly back at the shuttle yet?"

The sphere's voice was quiet. "Yes."

"Prep for immediate departure and get the Normandy to pick us up ASAP, I've got some really fucking bad news for TIM."