A/N: Okeer is best krogan. I could not help myself with the quote.
Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications.
'There are those who argue, in the feeble and limited perspective of those who value such things as 'fairness', that the krogan are not responsible for their own downfall. It is the nature of krogan to seek vengeance in a time of tragedy. It is considered noble for us to rage against fate, instead of succumbing to destiny. Inevitably, many shall no doubt fault the hands upon the sword of the Genophage that struck us down - the turians. Others will fault its creators, the salarians who uplifted us. But they merely performed such to save their own weak races. To fear them is to give them a power they do not deserve...and to hate them is to ignore the ugly lesson we as krogan have all learned. Yet ultimately, it was I who set these events into motion...with a single blow of my hammer, God-Splitter.'
-Doctor Ganar Okeer, 'The Irrelevance of Perspective,' one of the few literary works produced by krogan
The room was, ironically, the mirror image of its owner.
The walls, bare, polished steel, were flanked with armored support columns, yet the floor was rich oak wood panels, and the ceiling was a sheet of pure armaglass, displaying an illuminated aquarium well stocked with exotic fish, the edges of the ceiling flanked by inset lights of pale copper, a mix of functional luxury and understated excess.
The desk was square, hard steel and black armaplast, but the chair the man sat in was rich leather and crafted titanium, custom-fitted to his size. A thick rug – decades old and made of silks, worth more than a dozen families in the Alliance make in a year – was flanked by the staid, practical banks of computer screens, haptic displays and steel-framed racks of datapads and thick paper books.
The man sitting almost indolently behind the desk was as impressive as the room. His powerful, massive frame was almost superhuman in stature, his features so evenly perfect as to appear godlike – iron jaw, chiseled cheekbones framing a stentorian nose and a firm mouth. Dark gray eyes flashed beneath a noble brow, framed in long faded brown locks.
His suit – the most delicate and expensive pure wool from the zero-G farms above Vega II, lined with Bekenstein silk – was a black that shone almost dark blue in the lights from above the desk, set off by the pure white silk of his tie and the glimmer of diamond cuff-links. He sat back, amused, and then tapped the control on his desk.
"And you are sure the High Lords themselves are unaware of the cause of the setbacks?" Seated before him, the elegant, sensual features of the woman slowly morphed into a smile.
"My dear Richard, my great-grandfather is many things, but modesty of his own cleverness is not a trait he is known for. He – and the rest of the High Lords – see what their underlings tell them, blindly secure in their dominance. But the chance to shift the balance of power is in our hands - if we but act. The right to dictate the fate of humanity is no longer theirs, given their errors."
Richard Manswell – once known as Richard Williams – merely nodded. "And yet you are one of them, in blood and by right."
Helga Manswell merely arched one perfect eyebrow. "We both know that the High Lords will never allow a mere woman to sit in their ranks. God, the al Saud would combust on the spot. They are bigots in every possible sense of the word – only the most hateful, the most depraved leaders would have sided with Victor, after all. He did not save the world – he waited until Ardiente laid it low, then murdered those who would have rebuilt it, claiming all the while to be holy salvation. To expect anything less from their decedents is the height of foolishness."
She paused, then her voice hardened. "And to be fair, I am no better. Yet the Manswell way is to accept none above us. I would be … discontent but willing to remain in my station, despite being far more qualified to lead this family – if not for our current situation."
He arched an eyebrow and she continued. "NOVENSILES is insanity writ large. It will not be ready in time for us to deploy it against the coming nightmare, and it could easily start a galactic war – hardly what we need with alien robots coming to kill us all. We have, despite the blandishments of the Broker, no real way of knowing when the Reapers will arrive. Such arrogant presumption … Victor himself warned against it."
Richard inclined his head. "You will get no arguments from me, given the … treatment my own family was subjected to. The High Lords have confused inhumanity with hateful ruthlessness, firmness with greed, and responsibility with sneering dismissal. Yet Victor had the right idea, in a fashion." He shook his head. "No matter. If they are fixated on NOVENSILES and economics and politics, they will not bestir themselves to attend to other matters."
He paused to light a cigar. One of the very few sensations he could still enjoy, thanks to upgrades he'd made to his body over the years. The delicate flash of a kinetic barrier kept the powerful smoke from drifting across to bother his guest. "And what of our own counter-stroke?"
Helga's nostrils flared. "Our work in the Mars Archives is … incomplete. I warned you that Shepard was the only possible resource we had to decipher those records, with the destruction of the Thorian."
He grunted. "And I took appropriate action. My careful manipulations of Hades cleared Windsor and his stupid Commandant from the board. It made Maxwell paranoid, handing over more control to me. If things had gone the way I'd wished, we would have immediately sidelined Huerta, and Shepard would have been answering to me. Pulled from the front lines, stuck in the Mars Archive with that asari of hers...she'd have been both powerless and useful."
He gestured at the screens set in the far wall of the office, which scrolled with data the Hades Group had gathered on the Broker and his wide-flung penetrations of the Alliance. "I had no idea the Broker was so prepared to take advantage of my own acts."
She shook her head. "We have no solid proof the Broker killed her."
Richard snorted. "After dealing with that ... snake Harper for years, I can recognize the Broker's signature. At the time we pinned it on the Geth to stoke the build up of munitions and war-fleets." He dumped his ashes. "The last decent intelligence we got out of our agent in Cerberus was that Harper had information saying the Broker was definitely responsible for the mission that lead to Shepard's death and the sabotage of the Normandy."
He sighed. "The troubling thing, of course, is that I still cannot fathom exactly why the Broker would want her dead. And there is nothing to be done about it at this late junction anyway. From what we know from her Commissar's report, the only people who knew of the Cipher, or whatever they called it, are all dead."
Helga shook her head. "That is why I called you, and why I wanted to know if the High Lords were paying attention to the Butcher business. My source inside the Citadel tells us the Council thinks this Butcher may be Liara T'Soni. And my operatives on Omega are almost certain the "Bitter Princess" Aria has in isolation is Aethyta Vasir. Both of them were known to have accessed Shepard's mind."
Richard's face took on an expression of surprise. "T'Soni and her father survived? Interesting." He folded his massive arms after laying down his cigar in the ashtray. "But ultimately pointless."
She frowned. "T'Soni had access to the Cipher – "
He interrupted. "Yes, and by T'Soni's own reports, her command of it was a fraction of that of Shepard's understanding. We're lucky she gave Vandefar that primer of translation texts – it has helped immensely." His voice hardened. "I grasp your point. Having a better understanding of what is in the Seventh Black Archive on Mars would be immensely useful. But you mentioned a complication."
Helga sighed. "The Butcher is … associated with Cerberus."
The big man leaned back, unfolding his arms and picking up his cigar. "That changes things. T'soni's command of the Cipher may be incomplete, but if the bits we got from Shepard's omni-tool are accurate...then the good doctor knows far too much to be left alive."
Helga examined her fingernails. "Killing her is a waste of resources, and killing her father is going to be nigh unto impossible. Assuming we even want to go after T'Soni, she's going to be difficult to localize using only Hades assets. If you demand her death, I presume you want this kept out of the sticky fingers of the AIS and cousin Aloxius?"
Richard nodded, pulling out an info-pad from a drawer in the desk. "Whatever is happening in the Traverse has little impact on us. If the T'Soni woman is alive and tied up with Harper, that could change everything. That is the real problem. I can cut Maxwell out of the loop, I can neutralize Senator Adkins, I can tie up that idiot Shastri all day long."
He watched as she read the info-pad "But nullifying whatever Harper is up to is more problematic. Idiots think the asari are dangerous? Harper is dangerous on many different levels, most of which I can't even counter directly because it would reveal my own long game.. And trying to predict him is … ugh." He rubbed his forehead. "I told Rachel once the man is a fucking snake made of Teflon. Check that data out. Tracing the money isn't working."
Helga examined the transactions carefully. "How old is this?"
He shrugged. "A few days. I have no reason why he'd shuffle money in that fashion, but we got lucky and determined the ultimate destination was the Blue Suns Corporation. That doesn't narrow it down much – there are major Suns operations on a dozen worlds, and most of those are far beyond our operational reach."
The statuesque blond woman tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against the glossy surface of the pad. Richard always admired how she used conventional perceptions of female attributes to distract most males, which was doubly amusing given her views on males. He refocused his attention on her words.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The banks being used … are curious. Most are run by outcast asari working hand in glove with certain volus and hanar interests. Harper is being careful never to route funds through human banks."
She tapped a transaction. "Yet THIS payment was made entirely through human banks – the ones he's been using won't deal with some of the Blue Suns branches due to certain … conflicts. The only reason he'd need to go through this bank is if he's dealing with that turian anti-slaver on Purgatory."
Richard frowned. "What the hell would he want with a prison? And why has he been making regular payments for over a year?"
She shrugged. "Keeping someone on ice?" She paused. "And a final, large payment a few days ago. You don't think … he's had T'Soni locked up?"
Richard rubbed his square chin, and tapped a key. "Send in Makali." He leaned back. "Perhaps investigation is in order of a more direct nature."
She shrugged. "In that case, I will be about my business. I've rerouted the Sirta accounts – again – and so far, the lab director is still following orders. All of the basal cells for Maxwell's lung grafts have been contaminated."
He smiled. "Very good."
She rose, and without another word or glance left the large, empty office. Barely a few seconds later the doors opened again, and the figure that stepped through them gave a shallow bow.
"I am here, kiongozi."
Richard gave a shallow smile. "I have a task for you. There are irritants in the Traverse. They are connected to Jack Harper. Such things distress me."
The man standing across from him was of average height, with a slender but well muscled build where cybernetics did not replace flesh. His armor, in the black and red of Hades, was surmounted by a long armored coat, and twin hooked blades sat side by side on one hip, the other occupied by a large caliber pistol. A band of cyberware replaced his eyes, his head shaven except for a narrow fall of hair in the back, his skin nearly as dark as the suit Richard Manswell wore.
"Distress is not good for the soul, kiongozi. What shall be done?"
The big man smiled. "Look into it for me. Act if you have a clear hand, but right now I need harder information."
"And the target you wish me to investigate?"
Richard tossed him an info-pad "Purgatory. Money flows are in the report. Find out who was on ice, and what they were doing there – and if that can lead us to what Harper is dabbling in." His voice was low. "Given the debacle on Bekenstein this morning, we can't afford more … setbacks. The plan is entering a critical stage. Use whatever resources you need – I don't mind if you go loud, but discreet is better."
"I will depart at once, kiongozi."
O-TWCD-O
Jack Harper disliked leaving things to chance. Gambling was fine when the stakes were only money, and the worst outcome was having to listen to Henry Lawson's laughter. Higher stakes – life, existence, the fate of the human race – were too important to leave to the random hand of fate.
And he had been gambling far too much recently.
He'd escaped death by minutes on Earth, due to little more than his own gut instincts. He had thought he'd covered every angle in his plans to dismantle what Cerberus had become, only to be outsmarted by Richard Williams. He'd been certain of his plan to win Shepard over to Cerberus before her death, only to be blindsided by the Broker's actions that took her out.
He'd only gained knowledge of the sale of her body to the Collectors due to the guilty conscience of one of Shepard's old team-mates, not by his own attempts.
As galling as those multiple failures had been, of course, there were reasons. Losing the vast majority of Cerberus and its resources, on top of having to scramble to keep in the game and his head on his shoulders, had distracted him. But events afterwards were hardly more reassuring.
The scrap-grace nature of how Cerberus had barely managed to salvage the recovery of Shepard's body on Omega had been a wake-up call. Miranda was brilliant, Pel and Kai were utterly deadly, and Shepard's team-mates had taken down two of the most dangerous warriors in the galaxy. Along with four Remembrance Dancers and the most lethal blade mistress in history, the recovery should have been simplicity itself.
Miranda had required days of surgical correction. Pel had lost an arm, Kai had spinal damage, Miss Zorah required even more cybernetic correction, and most of Shepard's team was killed.
The long process of bringing her back to life was equally a touch and go operation, with more than one occasion where they nearly lost everything – despite billions in funding, unmatched facilities, some of the finest medical minds in the human race, and an Inusannon AI. That Shepard had recovered and agreed – reluctantly – to work with Cerberus was gratifying.
Yet that relationship balanced on the razor's edge as well. Given all the other close calls the Revenant Cell had encountered, it seemed unwise to leave things to chance, or Shepard's notoriously touchy temper.
As such, after every communication with Shepard, Harper assembled a small team to analyze and discuss how best to handle her. Some of the members of the team were there for contrast, such as Pel – via QEC link – and General Petrovsky. Others were there for insight and ideas, such as Brooks and usually Trellani, although she was still returning from Bekenstein.
For the most part, though, Harper relied on the insights from their lead psychologist. Thus far, the advice of Kelly Chambers – don't lie to her, don't volunteer anything, keep all interactions direct and let her chart her own course – had at least not driven Shepard off.
She had claimed that, in relatively short order, Shepard would fall into older behavioral patterns, seeking a leader and justifications, and at that point her absorption into Cerberus would be simplicity itself.
Once again, things had not gone according to plan. Shepard's wariness was bad enough, but her continued distrust of his own motives and directives implied she was much more loosely attached than he hoped for. Given that the situation was about to change and the risk of discovery rose day by day, he had little hope of waiting for things to improve and reaping any benefits from such.
And thus, Harper had recalled the other expert he had on Shepard, the one who advised him to act much differently than Chambers had.
The Illusive Man stared hard at the man slouched on the chair in front of him, the cigarette in his fingers still unlit, and then at the image of Kelly Chambers. "Your projections of how Shepard would react to things appears to be off, Doctor Chambers."
Kelly's image in the QEC flickered a second. She tilted her head. "Psychology is not a deterministic process, Mr. Harper – and all projections were made on known evaluations of her personality. No such work up can truly be complete. Minor changes in brain chemistry can affect emotional balance, depression – a host of factors. I stand by my assertions that in time she will be far more willing to work with and for you."
Harper turned his gaze back to the man. "You still disagree, Mr. Dunn?"
Jason Dunn rolled his eyes, sitting up a bit straighter. "Look, boss. I know Shepard – better than you, better than Kelly, and damn sure better than Her Holiness Lawson. You people are wanting miracles in a day and I keep telling you, She-bitch is an immature child in a lot of ways. You can run all the goddamned modeling you want, but until you get that through your head you won't make any progress."
Kelly Chambers snorted, and folded her arms. "Childish? This coming from, of all people, you? And you are arguing this, no doubt, from the depths of your years of work in psychology?"
Dunn leaned back, smirking. "Aww, Kelly. Don't be angry with me because you suck at your job, babe. I don't need a goddamned psychology degree, I can just look at how you all act whenever you talk about her. I've seen more clue from the likes of al-Jiliani." He ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. "Jesus fuck, you people are a bit slow sometimes."
With a flick of his lighter, the Illusive Man lit his cigarette, his voice sharp. "Be so kind as to enlighten us, then. As I recall, you suggested she would … cause difficulties for us. Kelly, on the other hand, expected her to be receptive to Cerberus as time went by."
Dunn rolled his eyes again. "I can't believe this. Brilliant minds all around me and the dumb grunt has to break it down to you?" He sighed. "Look. I'll try it another way. You yourself already pointed out how much Jack is like Sara, right? How does Jack respond to anything she doesn't like? Doesn't understand? Can't make fit into her own fucked up way of looking at things?"
Kelly's voice was tired sounding. "She lashes out in anger to cover her confusion and fear. We know this, Mr. Dunn."
Dunn shook his head. "Clearly, you don't. Shepard was taught by the Old Lady, Rachel. Pel can tell you exactly how she used to act. Rachel Florez shaped Shepard, at least as much as Anderson did. The same things you're seeing in Jack you're seeing in Shepard, only from a longer ways out, less angst and more sorrow."
The big man on the other QEC link in the corner, puffing on a cigar, grunted. "Huh. Boy's got a point. Rachel was a cast-iron bitch, but before she got hard she was a whiny fuck a lot of times. She was banging Mikey mostly because he was the only one didn't look at her all cock-eyed, measuring her for a good fuck, and treated her normal."
Pel puffed on the cigar again. "But she'd get … irrational and PMSy and shit when things didn't roll her way. Took her a long time to get over the way she came up, always bringing that shit up as an excuse. Even when she had proof on top of proof of people backing her, she still acted like we were gonna knife her in the back."
Dunn nodded. "Exfuckingxactly." He made a gesture with his hands. "You look at her life and it's nothing but her slowly having goddamned sense beaten into her fucking skull. She's the most self-absorbed bitch I've ever known. I love her to pieces, but damn. It took most of a goddamned year for Liara to get in her pants because Sara was too much woe-is-meing over being a monster and unlovable or some kind of shit. Before Torfan, she was hung up on being a Z and that meant she was worthless and wouldn't ever amount to shit."
Kelly's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but she's shown considerable progress since that point. She's moved on, doesn't cling. The Commissariat reports show that much. And in the time since she's awoken she's hardly moved back to her, as you put it, woe-is-me stance."
Dunn gave her a deadpan look. "C'mon babe. You know better than that. Shepard is determined to see shit her way until she is forced to change that." He looked back at Harper. "I've told you again and again. You have to take a lot of time and bash things in her head. Don't be fucking subtle with it. She hates changing her mind on things. It makes her doubt every other call she's made, and doubt leads to failure."
He exhaled. "Her deciding Cerberus is not fucked beyond recall and that you aren't Satan's grandson or something isn't a concept she can just accept and get over."
Harper puffed on his cigarette. "And why is that? Morals?"
Dunn snorted. "Shit, no. Her 'morals' are just concepts she uses to justify the things she does. That's not the problem at all. The problem is she's … uh, what's the word...linear. Yeah. She'll follow that idea – that maybe you aren't evil – to the logical conclusions."
Harper leaned forward, instincts telling him this was important. "And what would that be?"
Dunn's voice was tired. "That she fucked up already. That if she'd listened to you when you reached out to her before, on Arcturus, that maybe Liara wouldn't have died. Maybe her friends would be alive, Anderson okay. That maybe she wouldn't have died, maybe things would be different. And given all the other shit she's fucked up – mostly for the same reasons, not trusting people – it will be depressing and make her doubt herself more, and … just a fucking stupid cycle."
Dunn leaned back. "She's really bad at facing hard internal truth, boss. And frightened that she hasn't really changed at all – or more likely, knowing her dumb ass, that it's only because of Liara." He made a disappointed face.
Harper raised both eyebrows. "A surprisingly telling point."
Dunn nodded. "She's fucking scared – and she lashes out with skepticism and snark and more emo bullshit because what the hell is she supposed to do? Who can she trust? And if she trusts you, what does that say about her previous judgment?" He groaned. "And if her previous judgment is bad, what about her judgment now? The shit never ends."
Harper sat back, inhaling smoke thoughtfully. "Doctor Chambers?"
Kelly worried at her lip. "I don't know. Shepard doesn't open up to me as much as I'd like, and she interacts more honestly with Miranda at this point. She's hardly going to want to let me dig into her motivations, and with everything that's been going on I haven't had much chance to sit her down and try to determine ways to proceed."
She shrugged. "On the other hand, she does take my advice – she used what I said and presented herself as almost dismissively overconfident to Jack, because that shakes up Jack's ability to pretend she's unaffected. She's taken my advice on how to go about her slaver campaign."
Brooks spoke for the first time, her dark and beautiful features intense. "But doesn't that imply she's just using your advice without listening to you? Can we be sure Mr. Dunn is wrong if she's willing to divorce your usefulness from actually accepting what you say about her?"
Kelly grimaced. "He … may be right. Analysis of psychology based on the memory extracts from the gray-boxes is tricky, as they're just … memories. Trying to project from them is even more tricky."
Pel grunted, his QEC image flickering. "Don't forget she was raised by David, too. Anderson never did like people who changed their views on things – hell, the whole reason shit fell apart there at the end was him convincing Kae to act like a little bitch instead of sticking with Kai when the chips were down." He rubbed his chin. "I ain't no shrink, but I can get in people's heads when it comes to talking trash – if she's like Rachel, that woman wants to believe in something, fucking anything, that won't blow up on her."
His voice held a faint trace of something like pain. "Makes her a natural fit for the Dog, if you can get that across to her."
Dunn nodded. "I told you. When she's skeptical, just give her answers. Hard, clear, unabashed answers. Ninety percent of the reason she's this way is the Alliance had us doing shady shit and wouldn't ever give us straight answers as to why. Can't imagine shit changed after we split up, and we all know the line the Black Hats take towards what you learn when hit flag rank."
His voice gentled, his hands spreading. "She-bitch needs someone to accept she's gonna be skeptical, that she's not going to trust them, that not trusting won't mean they won't trust HER, and answer all her shit patiently. No one ever bothered to straight level with her and give her THEIR trust and faith without demanding she do some shit for them first. Like I told Liara, everyone uses her – and she's not stupid enough to miss that. But you gotta let her decide – on her own time – that you aren't lying to her. That you ain't out to fuck her over, or do some shit she won't put her name on."
Jack Harper sighed. "We do not have the luxury of time in that regard, Mr. Dunn. Once she takes down Okeer, I expect that will panic the Broker. We are already seeing that Shepard's attack on the Umlor Pirates has disrupted some operation he was involved in, and I cannot imagine Okeer is not also working with him. He will almost certainly act to clean up loose ends such as the Sisters of Vengeance and Archangel. Extracting either of them will hardly go without public attention, as Shepard is hardly a subtle touch and elements of both Ilium and Omega will arouse her ire."
He puffed on the cigarette. "There is a high probability that by the time she is done retrieving both, Shepard will be exposed and having to face the Council. If at that point they're smart enough to give her options instead of stonewall her, she is very liable to abandon Cerberus given her current attitude."
Dunn folded his arms. "Boss, uh, you have seen the kind of bullshit the Council pulled on her in the whole Saren mess, right? You actually think they have enough fucking brains to try that? Or that she's really stupid enough to listen to them? They double-crossed her when it came to Ilos. She's dumb, but she's not a goddamned vorcha."
He smiled thinly. "She-bitch only gives people one fucking chance to double cross her."
Harper smiled thinly. "I did not achieve my current position by assuming the best would transpire. Udina and Sparatus may back her. To be honest, Udina will almost certainly back her, even against his instructions from Earth. Sparatus may do so if only because he worries about the Reapers. Thin'Koris is … difficult to model accurately, but I cannot imagine him opposing her based on any past history – her antipathy towards the geth is well known."
He exhaled more smoke. "Based on past reactions, Valern is going to be the mouthpiece of the dalatrasses and the STG, with preference given to the STG's instructions. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that if the STG determined they could learn anything about Cerberus from her, they might very well instruct Valern to go along with trying to reach out to her. With four to one voting, that would mean Tevos's opposition would be meaningless. I do not know if Shepard would trust them, but I worry she would be far less ambivalent about doing so than trusting Cerberus."
Kelly frowned. "So if it takes time to win her over...to get past her own 'immaturity' as Jace puts it...and we don't have time for that – how do we tie her to us using some other method? Do we try the gambit Trellani suggested, with the asari?"
Harper did not miss the casual reference from Kelly to Dunn, but did not comment, rather shrugging. "I am still hesitant regarding that plan."
Dunn grimaced. "That shit will backfire. Just... no. And you're all overlooking something." He grinned. "You don't need her to trust you guys. At least, not just yet. Once you beat it into her skull, Kelly's ideas are probably right. But in the short term? You just have to make sure the Council pisses her off, and the Alliance acts like an ass. The more it seems like she has no options, and the more they irritate the fuck out of her, the easier it is for her to make excuses in her head. She's gonna pick the easier road, especially if we're the only ones getting shit done."
Harper gently rubbed his forehead with two fingers of one hand. "To completely turn her against the Council or the Alliance is counter productive, considering at some point we need to work with both of those groups."
Dunn shrugged. "So? What is more important, getting Shepard on your side, or playing kissy with the Council? I warned you when this shit started that she was going to be trouble, a lot more than you expected. She's not gonna let you do your usual routines."
The Illusive Man grimaced. "And your recommendation?"
Dunn rubbed his chin, then shrugged. "Look, it's not that much different than you probably originally planned. You just need to … adjust the playing field and shit. She goes after Okeer, blows his head off. Broker panics, tries to do something to stop the bleeding somewhere else – the Sisters of Repeated Stabbings and Murders, this spike version of the fucking Punisher, or both."
He stood, moving his hands. "Shepard goes in to rescue one of them – you deploy our own guys to keep the heat off the other one. Worst case scenario, her identity gets out – and so does her link to Cerberus. What's the knee-jerk Council reaction going to be?"
He folded his arms. "That they will think she's a clone. Or a spy. Or something. Not open fucking arms. Even if Udina has the balls to back her, the rest of the Council will go hell fucking naw."
Pel chuckled. Brooks arched an eyebrow. The Illusive Man extinguished his cigarette.
"Given that putting our people on Omega would be … difficult, we'll have to move to protect the Sisters of Vengeance."
Dunn shrugged. "You said earlier that they haven't responded to our nibbles yet, and neither has this Archangel guy. I say after she waxes Okeer, send her to Omega. Solus is moving in that direction anyway, and this Archangel guy is going to get his spiky ass shot to pieces sooner or later, while the Sisters are a lot sneakier."
Harper was silent for several seconds, before grimacing. He glanced at Brooks. "Take Rasa and see what you can find out on Ilium." He flicked a glance at Petrovsky. "Put together a force capable of standing off … Broker reinforcements. Keep it quiet but make sure it is a solid as we can manage. Our military resources are very slender outside of Shepard's own assets."
His gaze moved to that of Jason Dunn. "I want you on hot standby and consultation with Doctor Chambers. We'll go with your assumptions and after Korlus I will … see if they bear fruit, if I am recklessly open with her. Pel, you and Kai will continue to monitor and shadow Doctor Solus until he reaches Therum – but be ready to deploy to Ilium if need be. Otherwise, secure the good doctor on Therum – intelligence suggests his break with the STG is more severe than we originally suspected."
He leaned back. "Shepard herself will be transitioning to Korlus very shortly. Vigil will attempt to keep her activities there quiet...but let's go ahead and put a few assets near the trade lanes and take out FTL comm drones that may slip past. I don't want Council Spectres interfering at any point."
Brooks leaned back, a small smile on her features. "And the situation on Bekenstein?"
Harper picked up his drink. "Trellani accomplished the objective. We have Ms. Goto – and the information from the batarian raid. It appears the asari Ghost-Step was killed in the operation, but given her issues and unlikeliness to work for us, that is of little moment. Given that Rasa will be occupied on Ilium, you can clean up any loose ends on Bekenstein. Obtain Ghost-Step's body if you can, a look at asari blueware could be of use to our long-term goals."
Kelly cleared her throat. "Goto may be unstable – she had worked with this Ghost-Step person for a long time...are we sure she's still viable?"
Harper glanced at Chambers. "You'll have Goto's full dossier in twenty four hours, Doctor."
O-TWCD-O
Shepard moved through the cargo bay of the Normandy, a faint smile on her face as she watched her marines getting armored up.
She had to admit, the Illusive Man certainly didn't lie when he promised her the best resources. Most of her men had modular Devastator armor suits, with supplementary onboard medical systems and omni-armor facings. The armory of the base had everything from Zeus pistols – usually restricted to Commissars – to a wide selection of exotic weapons. Nothing but the very best, with a full armory to customize each piece to the owner.
Her DACT were sporting prototyped Cerberus specific armor suits called FUJIN-class drop-suits. Modeled off of stolen turian tech, each one was super heavy powered armor, complete with armored myomer muscles, strong fitted kinetic barriers, and micro-mass effect field generators three times as powerful as those on Icarus Jump Armor. With a mass-effect shield generator in the legs that allowed their 'death from above' jump attack to land with truly shattering power, built in omni weapons and missiles, and onboard VI management, Montoya and Florez were in lunatic heaven.
She whistled sharply. "Hustle up, boys and girls."
The fifteen odd marines stopped what they were doing and formed neat lines in front of her, the bearlike bulk of Senior Chief Vega in front. Shepard took a deep breath.
"We'll be hitting Korlus soon. I've got a lot of war robots coming along for the drop, and I'll be the tip of the spear – but I won't lie to you. This shit is at least as bad as what we hit on Virmire, probably, minus a goddamned Reaper and a geth fleet. Okeer was the asshole who dreamed up those fucked up krogan/rachni things, and there's no telling what kind of intolerable bullshit he's gotten up to here."
She bit her lip, meeting the eyes of her people – of Ownby, Haskins, Haln. "Likewise, it's likely that his Ganar clan krogan will be guarding him. We've fought krogan before, and you all know they're tough sons of bitches. You've got gear better than most N7's now, and we'll be going in hard and fast with heavy backup from two assault shuttles and the HAMMRHEAD tank, not to mention the Normandy herself."
She straightened. "But as before...some of you could get killed on this trip. This is your last chance to back out."
Montoya snorted. "Fuck that noise, ma'am. I'm here to get down, loud and dirty. Maybe the rest of the galaxy ain't got your back, but us Normandy Boyz is in it to win it."
The murmur of approval was complete, and Shepard nodded. "Alright then. Good to see you're still goddamned crazy, Uriel."
His expression flickered. "I miss Sergeant Telanya, she'd have said something smart-ass about us being uncivilized."
Vigil popped into existence next to the man, making him stumble back. "I can fill in for that position, primitive."
Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Vigil..."
The sphere pulsed smugly. "My apologies, meatbag. The purported pilot of this vessel wishes to instruct you that we are approaching the jump point to the Imir Relay. ETA until jump is fifteen minutes."
She nodded. "Status of suppressing system defenses?"
The sphere actually gave a very human sounding snort. "Please, Shepard. There is overkill, and then there is hurling sixty billion runtimes at a system that wouldn't be used in a child's toy in my civilization. While I cannot penetrate the ground defense net of Okeer, the planetary sensor net and all outgoing communications systems are under my control."
She nodded, turning back to the marines. "Miranda Lawson will be acting as company commander for this mission. She's Cerberus – but she's also extremely talented, and my executive officer over the entire operation I'm running. Until she fucks up, she has my complete confidence, and I want you to treat her like crew."
Vega arched an eyebrow at that, but only nodded. "Yes, ma'am. She got any experience, or do I need to make 'suggestions' as we go along?"
Shepard laughed. "Suggestions would be a good idea, big guy. I think she's ran a few infiltration style assault ops – and she's the one who got into and out of Omega to snatch my body from the fucking Broker – so she's not hopeless."
Haskins folded her arms. "Boss Lady, where you gonna be at in this kip-up?"
She shrugged. "In the front. Tali and our newest recruit, Jack, will be along with me." She exhaled. "From what little I know, Okeer isn't biotic, but he may have krogan biotics in his group. The Ganar that was Saren's sidekick that Wrex killed on Feros was a biotic. If it comes to that, let Miranda handle the biotics."
She pointed. "Haln, you run first squad. Moon, you'll handle second squad. Vega's the top kick. I want the DACTs hot dropping at a location I designate, you'll finally get to use your door opener."
Florez grinned. "I got a new one, now." He patted the BRKR rail cannon sitting on the table next to him fondly, and Haln shuddered.
"You know, ma'am, putting guns of that size in the hands of a certified lunatic makes me wonder about you and if Cerberus put you back together quite right."
Shepard tilted her head, then shook it. "...on that note, I should go."
O-TWCD-O
The Normandy erupted out of the mass relay, immediately shifting into stealth mode. Joker tapped through various panels, narrowing his eyes.
"Vigil, scans?"
The sphere floated above Moreau's head, his usual levity gone into a cool professionalism. "More primitive wide-band targeting emissions. Minimal returns. Six light cruisers on patrol paths, and a squadron of destroyers and frigates, Blue Suns registry, solar orbit fifteen light minutes out."
A second iteration of Vigil floated above the main CIC plot, directing war robots that manned Ops Alley along with the pair of flesh-and-blood techs. Shepard, in full armor, stood at her command plinth, watching targets appear on the plot.
She turned to glance at Miranda. "Looks like we're clear."
The Cerberus officer nodded. "It would appear so, Shepard. I've performed final weapons checks and took the liberty of re-coding our missile launch patterns to ground dispersal."
Shepard nodded back. "Vigil... ground defense?"
The sphere circled the CIC plot. "...sporadic would be the most applicable term. There are GTS networks, but they are locally controlled – most around the capital, Choquo. That's almost two thousand miles from our target. Most civilian population centers are lightly defended."
The sphere paused, then flared. "...there are only light GARDIAN systems near the ship-breaking dock where Okeer has gone to ground, but I am detecting particle emissions." The tone of voice dropped. "Identical to... some of the Prothean-style particle beams I encountered during their fight against the Reapers. Curious – why would Collectors be deploying old Prothean tech?"
Shepard frowned. "Maybe it's not the Collectors – Okeer may have done some digging on his own."
The sphere pulsed. "He's a savage. Granted, a savage with a politely eloquent turn of phrase, but still a savage. While the Protheans hardly impressed me, they were certainly more advanced than you lot. Repurposing Prothean technology is difficult since they were hung up on making everything pheromonal and... ugh."
Shepard tapped her helmet control. "Whatever. Joker, take us into low observable, and then bring us in over the site." She tapped the 1 MC repeater. "All hands stand by for combat drop."
Miranda checked her pistol, and then her SMG, before picking up her helmet from the nearby console, tucking it under one arm. "I would recommend dropping in the shuttle, since it has stealth systems."
Shepard nodded, tapping her comm. "Jack, meet me in the hangar. We're dropping in five."
"Yeah, whatever."
Miranda's face soured. "She could show at least a modicum of respect."
Shepard chuckled. "Miranda, don't let it get you worked up."
The Cerberus officer followed Shepard into the elevator. "I'm not. At least, not for my own sake. But military discipline is important. I don't want to be a martinet, and I do understand your point about her past. But recklessness is not a net positive."
Shepard shrugged. "You're saying that to me? Poster girl for the impulsive? The person who biotically charged and then rage-punched out a Geth Prime?"
Rather than scoff, Miranda actually smiled. "Yes, well. Given that we have a quarian who likes shotgunning her own people, an unstable ancient AI, and not one but two DACT – I would say we have already filled our quota of crazy and don't need any more."
Shepard chuckled. "You can never have enough crazy awesome, Miranda." She exhaled. "You feel comfortable leading my marines?"
The younger woman's face took on a more serious expression. "Yes, I do. It isn't the first time I've lead troops … and I am fully aware of how important your soldiers are to you, Shepard. I will place their welfare first and foremost, I promise you."
She placed a hand on Lawson's shoulder. "You do that, and maybe I will start believing you when you say Cerberus isn't full of bullshit."
The elevator opened, revealing the hangar bay, marines getting into the larger combat shuttle, the smaller shuttle only containing two war robots – and Jack, sitting on the hatch's edge, fiddling with the lighter shotgun Shepard had convinced her to use. A heavy caliber pistol was tucked into a holster along each boot, and the biotic hopped up and walked towards them, pausing when she took in what Shepard had on her hip.
"...oh, what is this fuckin' hax? You have a fucking warp sword, too?"
Rather than reply verbally, Shepard tapped her helmet control, revealing her face, and popped a cigarette from the compartment on her upper arm. "Boys and girls, smoke 'em if you got 'em. Vigil, time to target?"
"Six minutes, primitive. Recommend boarding your landing vessels. Joker is singularly incompetent in atmospheric landings."
"Fucker, I shot down geth gunships in atmospheres with a frigate!" Joker's voice was unusually shrill, and Jack burst out laughing.
Shepard shook her head, lighting her cigarette with a flicker of warpfire. "You heard the … er, thing."
Vega nodded, smoking a cigar of his own. "Apes. As the good Master Chief Cole used to say... are you fucking HOT?"
"Hot, locked and ready to rock, SIR!"
Vega nodded. "Ma'am, the detachment stands ready."
Shepard took another drag on the cigarette, and smiled. "You know the drill. Bubblegum and all that."
The marines began loading onto the bigger shuttle, and Shepard turned to Jack. "Alright, so this is your first time with the Shepard Rodeo. I got two rules. When I say cease fire, I mean fucking cease fire. And if you get into trouble, you fall back – no goddamned heroics."
Jack rolled her eyes. "Shit, I ain't going out like no punk, bitch." She shrugged. "You wanna charge in and get all shot up, be my guest."
Shepard looked to her right, as Tali, Kiala, and the muscular form of Dost entered. The big marine lieutenant was wearing heavy armor, and holding a Sabre rifle. The two quarian ladies both held Reegar carbines, while Kiala was also packing a heavy sniper rifle.
Shepard turned to face them. "Lieutenant, I've reviewed your combat records in the Alliance. Hardly shabby, but it's been a long time since you were under fire. Are you comfortable dropping with us?"
Dost nodded, his cybernetic hand patting his Sabre. "Yes, ma'am. I've soaked bullets for Kiala before, it's old hat by now."
Kiala's voice was waspish, deeper than Tali's and exasperated. "Idiot. The ancestors despair at your dislike of cover." She turned to face Shepard fully. "I was in the Migrant Fleet Marines for some years before my... exile." The words were tinged with bitterness. "I can certainly hold my own, although not as well as my sha-shian."
The translator stumbled over the term, and Kiala laughed. "Roughly, ship-sister. Tali."
Tali gave her an odd look, but her voice was amused. "I've come a long way from princess."
Kiala patted her shoulder. "That you have. Now, by Keelah, let us go. I have not fought in years and have a great deal of repressed aggression that needs to be vented."
Shepard nodded, but Tali laughed. "Probably no geth here... and really? Venting frustrations?"
Kiala followed Shepard and Jack onto the shuttle. "One cannot be picky. And some of us are not quite so... aggressive in the clean room, sha-shian."
Dost reddened, putting on his helmet. "You'll have to excuse my wife. Her tongue was replaced in her youth with a plasma torch."
Shepard snickered, while Jack just looked confused.
O-TWCD-O
As insertions went, the beginnings of the group's arrival on Korlus was flawless.
With their sensor net carefully blinded, there was no hint of the Normandy's penetration into Korlus's atmosphere. Due to the hazardous nature, poisonous fumes, corrosive chemicals and general unpleasantness associated with ship breaking, civilian population centers were located on an entirely different continent from the main ship breaking sites, commuting in daily via mass-effect lev-rails that encircled the entire planet.
Korlus was actually a wealthy planet, but also dangerous, rapacious and cruel. A dozen private military companies made their homes here, along with minor slaver and raider bands, all supporting the key industries of the planet. The murder rate was one of the highest in the galaxy, with much of the merc groups time spent on managing the krogan who had settled in the wilderness of the planet, fighting off uncooperative slaver gangs, and dealing with crime.
The arrival and departure of various gunships, fighters and even light warships was a constant flow of traffic across the skies. As such, the sight of a nondescript military vessel in atmosphere by the very few who saw it didn't even raise eyebrows. The Normandy proceeded to the coordinates provided by Harper, and Shepard's shuttle launched.
On the shuttle, Shepard tapped her comms. "Vigil, wait until I give the signal to launch the assault force and begin the attack. We're headed down to the meeting spot to get in touch with Massani, and then we'll proceed to talk to the Blue Suns. If we're lucky, the Suns may join in on the assault – and in that case, I want to coordinate the launch. No point in my own people taking the head-on attack."
Vigil's voice was calm. "Understood. So far no intrusions or awareness of my hacks. The landing site you were given is clear of GTS defense signatures. Two GARDIAN towers nearby, but reading zero power emissions."
She nodded, clicking off. "I'll... handle Zaeed. He's going to be troublesome."
Tali tilted her head. "Is that the old man with one eye who was actually hitting on you at New Louisiana?"
Shepard nodded sourly, and Tali shook her head. "Oh, dear."
Jack leaned back with amusement. "Ha. What, you don't like people making a pass at you, Shepard?"
Shepard grimaced behind the helmet. "Yeah, no. I try not to get involved with guys old enough to be my father."
Dost chuckled. "I have to say, when I did drops with N7's before, they were all grimly serious types. Bantering is...unexpected."
Shepard shrugged. "I'm not that concerned, to be honest. I mean, yeah, Okeer is supposed to be a bad-ass. But I've got a ship with a Kyle torpedo up there, and I already wrecked the shit of a band of pirates a lot bigger and stronger than what Okeer's got. I'm more worried about my people or you guys getting hurt."
She leaned back herself, wondering why in the hell Harper felt it necessary to put leather fucking seating in a shuttle when the only time it got used was by people in full armor. "Besides, if I let myself get serious, I start thinking about bad shit."
The big man nodded. "I see. I'm not... nosy. But it seems like you have some sort of... grudge... against this Okeer."
Shepard nodded, and as the shuttle came down, related the tale of how Okeer had nearly killed Wrex and his involvement in the Destroyers. As the shuttle touched down on a broken concrete landing pad, the man shook his head. "Well, he sounds like a right proper bastard."
Shepard stood. "Not for much fucking longer."
The shuttle's engines moved to hover mode, and the side hatch popped open. As usual, the pair of war robots ducked out first, weapons ready, followed by Shepard with her helmet shut.
The landing pad was discolored by old fuel spills, cracked and pitted. Metal railings along half of it were rusted and bent, and the metallic walkway to the dockside was both liberally stained with old blood and dotted with holes from mass accelerator fire. The dockside itself was a shallow shelf of concrete with reinforced beam sidings, perhaps sixty feet long, boasting three landing pads. Behind it loomed the bulk of some kind of freight warehouse, the armaplast given a fresh coat of paint but failing to cover up its decrepit status.
Five men in black armor trimmed in stylized flames stood in a semicircle around a thickset, older man smoking a cigar. His red and black armor was mostly thick plates, cut away at the right shoulder to reveal his cybernetic arm. A flat-black rifle with red trim and the name "Jessie" was held loosely in the man's other hand, even as he blew out smoke and took a step forward.
"So. You're the Butcher. You don't look like a guddamned killing machine."
Shepard inclined her head, trying to channel her 'asari' speech patterns. "And you do not resemble a man who started a mercenary company in hopes of saving innocent people, either. But the waves can bring us to strange and distant shores, Mr. Masanni."
His good eye narrowed at that, but he merely puffed on the cigar again. "Hn. I hear we have a galaxy to save."
She nodded. "I assume that you have been briefed on our plans here, and overall?"
He gave her a slight sneer. "I've done my homework. Cerberus sent me everything I needed to know."
Her eyes narrowed. "That isn't common knowledge, who my sponsor is."
He snorted. "And I care? I was in the penal legions, and I was on guddamned Shanxi. I've known old Jack a long time. He might try to snow others, but he knows it won't work on me." He puffed on the cigar. "I have enough sense to keep it quiet, I don't need the fucking Odd Couple killing me in my sleep."
His expression shifted. "Although... have to say, a bit surprised they've altered their fucking ways." He glanced over the two quarians and actually raised both eyebrows. "This mission doesn't sound like good business...but your Illusive Man can move a lot of credits, and a lot of information I need."
She let her weight fall back onto one hip and folded her arms. "Our agreement is for you – and for peripheral support from your PMC. For operational security reasons, I can't have your entire merc outfit follow me back to my own base."
The older man shrugged. "I've been briefed, like I said. I don't give a good guddamned shit who you really are or what you're up to. I'm in this for my own reasons, and the Firestorm isn't a part of that." He finally put away his weapon. "I assume your Illusive Man told you of our agreement?"
She sighed. "No, he didn't."
Zaeed smiled. "Well, color me fucking surprised, he actually kept his word. I asked him not to." He took a step forward. "You heard of Vido Santiago?"
Shepard felt her lip curl. "Yes. Worthless pile of living extrement. Runs the Blue Suns – at least the … less than reputable parts of it. Slaving piece of filth."
Zaeed's smile turned from wintry to almost warm. "That's the one. He fucked up an Eldfell-Ashland security job a few months back, and tried to pin it on my company of mercs. The bastard also tried to kill me. This Illusive Man of yours said I help you out, you'll help me snuff him."
Shepard frowned behind her helmet. "...normally I would say no. But as I said, he is a piece of excrement, and I have had a good day. Depending on the circumstances, I would say he is a walking dead man as soon as we localize him."
Zaeed nodded. "Good. Now, let's wipe this stupid krogan and find Vido as quick as we can, so we can get around to being big guddamned heroes." He jerked a thumb to the warehouse. "I've got that bint Jedore's commlink, but the crazy bitch isn't being cooperative. Lots of old bad blood about some shit back in the past to get around...maybe some credits will convince her."
Shepard nodded, turning to Tali and Jack. "Stay here. This shouldn't take long."
Tali merely nodded, while Jack rolled her eyes and tapped her omni, listening to music.
Shepard gestured to Zaeed. "Lead the way."
With a roll of his shoulders, Zaeed turned, heading into the central entry of the warehouse. Inside, the lighting was dim blue, the decking was metal slats overlaid here and there with rubber mats, and the walls mostly plain armacrete festooned with cargo racks. Rows of LOKI mechs and crates of weapons and other war-gear in the black-and-red paint scheme filled some, others had been converted to makeshift barracks.
"Firestorm has four primary centers of operations. This is one of them, I get a lot of work from the ship-works groups. Blue Suns have been here for years, but this Okeer fuck is a recent entry, showed up about a year and half ago."
Zaeed sniffed, walking past crates and through a doorway to his left to a small communications room. "He had some kind of deal with Jedore, but it went sour about six months ago. She tried to storm his compound, got her ass ruined for it and barely got out alive."
Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Well, then, she should be cooperative to my proposals."
Zaeed gave a low grunt of laughter. "She's hardheaded and thinks she's some kinda guddamned strategic genius, and hates it when people don't kiss her arse." His hands tapped across a haptic keyboard after transferring his cigar to his mouth.
A moment later, the haptic screen on the wall illuminated, displaying an almost mousy looking woman – narrow, bitter lips, sallow cheeks, sad brown eyes and limp brown hair in a pageboy cut. A Blue Suns tattoo occluded her throat. She looked up, frowning, taking in the image of Zaeed, before glancing over to that of Shepard.
Her voice was lower pitched than her appearance would suggest, but had a nasal quality to it. "So, Zae, this is your big payday? The goddamned Butcher?"
Zaeed spread a hand. "Money's money, love. I ain't got the time to be picky about where my credits come from."
Jedore folded her arms. "Speak then, asari. Keep in mind the Blue Suns Military Corporation is a registered member of the Corporate Court of Vol Prime, and are not engaged in any illegal activities."
Shepard gave a low, throaty laugh at that. "Yeah, I just bet. But I am not here for you. I'm after Okeer."
Jedore's bored expression tensed. "After him... how, precisely?"
Shepard shrugged. "Preferably, I would have him scattered across his own compound in smouldering chunks of gore. If you want to loot whatever left behind after I dispose of him, feel free. Steal his credits, I don't give a shit. I don't have the men to storm that compound by myself without losing a lot of them."
Jedore scratched the side of her neck. "You took out entire pirate gangs..."
Shepard shrugged a second time. "I had a fleet and total surprise, I can't exactly roll through here with such... force. I'd be noticed. I'm also trying to keep a low profile. No one will give a shit about warfare on a gang level."
The woman pursed her lips. "You have acquired a certain reputation for ugly brutality, asari. And a dislike for those who are involved in slavery. While the Blue Suns is, of course, fully compliant with all aspects of the Citadel Charter on the Rights of Sentient Beings, there are times we have performed guard or other duty with groups that may participate in such things. I'm hesitant to bring you into my operational space without knowing your intentions towards this unit."
Shepard sighed, turning her head to look at Zaeed. "Space lawyers, really?" Turning back to Jedore, her voice hardened. "Perhaps I'm not making myself... clear. You hate Okeer and he did something that cost you a lot of your men. I'm offering not only to pay you but give you backup to assault his base, and then loot whatever the hell you want, because I can't raise a big ruckus."
She folded her arms. "And you're worried I'll attack you?"
Zaeed snorted. "Bloody hell. Look, the Firestorm will hit from the north. The Butcher's people come in from the east, nearest the tower – the Suns can hit up from the south. We don't need to fucking deploy in your fancy-ass camps or see what shit you've gotten up to."
He gave the woman a cold glare. "Unless Vido is there."
Jedore sneered. "Hardly. Kuril gave me a call, he's probably running to that sleaze Vosque on the Citadel."
The older mercenary smiled almost beatifically. "That's the best guddamned news I've heard all week. I'll sort him out soon enough. Now, how much is this gonna cost?"
Jedore bit at her lip, then exhaled. "A million credits."
Zaeed's eyes widened, but Shepard tapped her omni in a bored manner, pausing to look up. "Any particular bank or to the Blue Suns corporate bank?"
Jedore's eyes widened, and she stammered for a moment. "A-ah...yes. I mean, yes! The Vol Prime Bank of Irune, account BSJ-44932."
Shepard tapped a few more times on her omni. "Money's sent. We're launching in fifteen, ETA until we hit the target is forty five minutes."
Jedore gave her a hard look then sagged and nodded as her own omni tool bleeped. "...very well. We'll come up from the south with gunships and heavy weapons, punch through the perimeter. Our goal is his vehicles and maybe one of his cutters, so don't expect us to go into that tower of his."
Shepard shook her head. "I don't. Butcher out." She clicked off, and Zaeed's voice lanced out incredulously.
"You just handed her a million guddamned credits for a two hundred k job? I should have asked this Illusive nut for more money."
Shepard smirked behind her helmet. "You can have some more. It's not my money after all. You'll be leading your own strike teams, I suppose?"
The merc nodded, and she straightened. "Good. We'll meet up at the tower and discuss your next steps after we've captured or killed Okeer. "
Zaeed rubbed his chin with his cybernetic hand. "Okeer is a real hard nut, he's been fighting since humans came up with writing. I'm not getting paid enough to have my head stomped on by a pissed off krogan, Butcher."
She turned away, towards the doorway and her shuttle. "Don't worry. You just keep Okeer's people off of me, and I'll handle the good doctor. "
O-TWCD-O
Shepard took a deep breath as the shuttle began cutting through the atmosphere towards the target. Visible through the wide view of the cockpit, the terrain ahead was rolling, flat hills of broken rock, the hulks of broken bits of starships scattered here and there, spars of old metal arching above the skyline like the ribs of some ancient beast.
In the distance, the heavy walls of the ship-breaking facility loomed, dirty brown bulwarks silhouetted against the rising sun. Shepard tapped her omni.
"Vigil, alert status."
The voice of the AI rang out across the commlink. "So far, nothing on the planetary defense net. I've triggered a number of false alarms on the far side of the planet near the capital – fake explosions, incorrect hazardous material alerts, dozens of false alarms from 'attacks' on several outlying facilities. The authorities believe it is hackers."
She nodded. "Smart. Landing status?"
"The Normandy is in low declining orbit, the ship will be in bombardment range in four minutes, and drop pod range in three. All twenty drop stations are ready, each will drop two RAMPART mechs on the pass. The HAMMERHEAD is ready for insertion as well, ten more will ride down with it. Fifteen more mechs are on the larger assault shuttle with your marines, they are holding position and waiting for your orders."
She nodded, tapping a different comm circuit. "Ignition, Solar-Blue, this is customer. Proceed in count four minutes, upon breaching signal."
The voice of Jedore was flat and cold. "Copy."
She clicked off, getting up to move back into the main area of the shuttle. Tali was prepping her drones, while Dost was carefully checking Kiala's suit and adjusting something over her support pack. Jack was casually flipping the safety on her shotgun from off to on.
"Just a few minutes now."
Jack's face was half covered by the flat-black dome of her combat helmet, but the lower section covering her mouth was transparent, and her full lips twitched into a smirk. "You gonna get upset if I shoot down some of the slaving assholes we find here?"
Shepard snorted. "You actually have to ask?" She unslung her sniper rifle, rolling her shoulder, and moved to the hatch.
Vigil's voice sounded. "...power sources within the facility, including those Prothean-style particle traces, are still quiescent. Heat signatures detected in several buildings outlying to the main tower. Suspected these are barracks. Secondary bombardment targeting updated. Primary bombardment will be breach of outer walls to south and GTS defenses."
Shepard nodded. "Alright. Time on target?"
"Thirty seconds."
She clicked her omni. "All units. Execute." No sooner than she finished that command, the ululating howl of the DACT rang out across the commlink, followed by Montoya's shouting. "Jump up jump up and get dooooown!"
Zaeed's sour voice came across the commlink. "Ah, fuck, she brought goddamned lunatics."
Seconds later the ground below exploded into angry blazes of orange light, missiles lancing down from above, blasting apart the southern expanse of the wall. Huge fireballs from some kind of storage facility with tanks atop it expanded, blasts of thunderous sound ringing out across the landscape.
Shepard hammered the hatch control. "Let's go."
The shuttle soared over the walls, coming down in an empty courtyard like expanse between three heavily reinforced buildings of armaplast with large cargo doors on each side. Shepard rolled out first, moving rapidly into the low cover of a stack of crates stamped with turian markings where cheap canvas didn't cover them. Jack leapt out a second later, landing in a feral looking crouch, bringing up a barrier field even as Kiala, Tali and Dost jumped down.
More heavy explosions rang out to the south and now the north, and alarms began to blare, along with shouting in the distance in the rough utterances of korogish. Shepard gestured with her sniper. "Along the walls to the south, move."
They crouch-walked around the southernmost of the warehouse buildings, even as streaks of light began to fall out of the sky, scattering mechs as they landed. The screaming whine of mini-guns and the muted boom of lance cannons rang out.
Vigil's voice sounded in her ear as she reached a corner. "GTS defenses coming online. Local control? Really? Why not smoke signals why you're at it, primitives?"
Shepard tapped her omni. "Retarget and suppress, now."
Vigil didn't bother responding, as mass accelerator rounds from above slammed into a tower some eighty feet ahead, blasting apart the slowly rotating GTS missile bank there. Explosions and burning debris scattered in all directions, a large chunk of wreckage crashing through the wall of another nearby building, sending up clouds of heavy smoke.
Shepard couldn't argue with that, and lead her little team forwards, keeping her sniper rifle moving at all times. As they hit the next warehouse, the tramp of feet running was audible. A rough voice barked orders. "Spread out! Pattern gritktah. Guresh is powering up the tomkahs now, but we got intrusions from north and south, we need the big guns."
A line of heavily armored krogan, each in black plates of armor with the warped insignia of a krogan hand in bright blue paint on the massive shoulder plate, stomped into the wide area between yet more warehouses, one of them hurling open the massive cargo doors to reveal racks of missile launchers.
Shepard cursed. "Jack, blow those things up. Everyone else, suppression fire for effect." She lunged out of cover into a roll, fetching up behind a low wall, and brought up her sniper rifle, sighting in on the krogan barking orders.
She fired, the round lashing out to cleanly blow a hole in the krogan's face, splashing orange ichor and bits of helmet across the faces of his subordinates. A second later a giant, roiling ball of warpfire smashed into the racks of weapons inside the warehouse, splitting into three just before impact.
The detonation was massive, powerful enough to knock even Shepard to her knees, a flare of heat glazing the concrete around her. Armacrete flashed into boiling slag and was flung out in a deadly semicircle, splashing over many of the nearby krogan, melting through them or covering them in scaldingly hot debris. Dozens of krogan fell near the far edges of the blast.
The huge plume of superheated debris and explosive fury rose up into a small mushroom cloud, even as the shockwave crumpled door entries, shattered lights, and sent both Kiala and Tali flying. Cursing, the smaller form of Tali got to her feet, bringing up her omni and launching drones. Kiala curled up against the wall, shaking her wrist tenderly before picking up her weapon.
That krogan could survive such a blast was not unheard of, so when a handful of enraged howls burst through the clouds of thick black smoke pouring out in all directions, followed by glimpses of charging figures, Shepard was ready. She dropped into one of the stances Ahern had drilled her in and began firing.
A snapshot took out the lead krogan, the shot carving into his knee, dropping him and tripping the two behind him. She shot one of them in the head and carried her barrel to the right, her automatic senses bringing it around just enough to fire two more shots, each catching running krogan right in the center of their heads.
One pitched to the ground dead, the other staggered back, clutching its ruined helmet and screaming in agony. A burst of rounds from the crouched form of Dost dropped it, even as six more ran towards them with krogan war cries.
Jack merely laughed. "Hello, dead people!" Her whole body flared deep blue as she flung out her hands, a surging wave of radiance expanding through the ground to erupt in a curved semicircle of glittering blue fire, shaped into long spikes. She could only hold it for a second, but in that second four krogan impaled themselves on warpfire, their armor curling back and the biotic flames scorching them from the inside out.
One krogan jumped the low barrier, right into the path of Kiala, who unloaded her Reegar directly into the krogan's face before kicking out his knee savagely. As the krogan stumbled, the quarian ejected a lance of plasma from her omni-tool into the center mass of the krogan, dropping him with a resounding thud.
Another one bulled through the flames, roaring in defiance, and Tali triggered her own omni. The krogan's large caliber shotgun suddenly detonated in his hands, seconds before his armor locked up and his power cells cooked off. Chunks of his armor sprayed out in burning fragments as the lower third of his torso simply turned to mist, even as Tali calmly hurled an incineration blast to finish him off.
Even as the first wave dropped, two more charged ahead, firing as they went. Jack hissed as rounds broke her barrier, ducking behind a piece of debris.
Shepard, seeing their charge would let them get them in close quarters range of Tali, dropped her sniper and entered into the kanquess, her hands pulling free the warp sword and pushing her power into the core.
The night black blade burst into blue flame as she emerged, her swing slamming directly into the krogan on the left. She expected a feeling of impact, of resistance, and overbalanced a bit when the weapon sheared said krogan completely in half, both sections tumbling to the ground a moment later.
The other krogan adjusted its charge, roaring and swinging a fist augmented by a power gauntlet. Shepard flung herself to one side, and lashed out with a strong kick, enhanced with biotics. Her foot crashed through the krogan's splintering armor, stopping him dead in his place, and she spun around from the impact, the warp sword slashing through his bulky, outthrust hip to sever his right leg in a flash of blue and black.
The krogan fell back howling in agony, and she reversed the weapon, driving it home into his face, the helmet providing no meaningful resistance. She tore it free a moment later, grimacing as she let the biotic fire die.
"...shit."
Jack stared at the two sliced up krogan, then shook her head. "Complete fucking hax."
O-TWCD-O
The krogan knelt before the elevated control station, with its many display windows and control panels, his deep voice edged with panic. "Mighty War-father, the perimeter – "
The deep, smooth voice that answered, rich in tone and amused, calmed his fears. "I am aware of the intruders, Gorash. I am frankly shocked this didn't happen earlier, given the typical idiocy of those like Jedore who cannot understand the needs of my work."
Ganar Okeer rose to his full height, his bronze armor half hidden under black robes, his broad and unscarred muzzle twisting into a grin. "These intruders will find we are not toothless varren. Ignore the thrust from the south, the Blue Suns are no doubt here to loot and pillage. The northern force is the true threat."
The smaller krogan nodded, his armor more elaborate than those of his fellows fearfully crowding the far doorway. "I sent a squad to get the missiles from the eastern storage sheds, but the storage area exploded and I can't get them on comms."
Okeer turned thoughtfully to a control panel, touching several buttons. The screen flipped through several grainy images before settling on one showing a shattered, burning building, black smoke pouring into the sky, and the still, twisted forms of krogan scattered about.
The barest flicker of movement caught his eye, and standing out against the dark walls and dull armaplast decking, the white armor and the black sword gleaming in warpfire was obvious. Okeer reared back, his bulbous eyes narrowing.
"...so. The strike against the pirates disrupting the work on the Broker's escape project was no fluke after all, if the Butcher is here." His voice hardened. "Prepare to move the Project into my pinnace, and send everything you have to the east, now. Seal the tower. And power up the comm relay immediately."
Okeer dismissed his servant, his large steps carrying him across the room, where his hand wrapped around the handle of his battle hammer, God-Splitter. As he took it from the wall and hefted it in his hands, his smile widened.
"At last...perhaps a decent fight awaits me."
He touched a panel on his comm console, his speaker system coming online.
"Come, aliens. Show me what passes for fury among your misbegotten kind."
