A/N:

Thanks to the DLP folks for giving me evil ideas :D

This is one of those chapters that I had to break in two pieces, as it links together a number of different concepts. Omega is coming soon, never fear.

Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They deserve more credit than I do.

And while I'm thinking about it: Go review Living an Indoctrinated Dream by Aberron, and The Queen, the monster and the child by metaladdict.


'Might always makes right. Fear of punishment, fear of the law, and fear of those stronger is all that enables laws to work. Those who forget to fear are criminals, those who let such fear master them are productive members of society.'

- Saint Victor Manswell, 'The Perspective from Above'


Grunt watched as Shepard laid out additional pieces on the omni-forge, his mind racing to absorb the information she was teaching him about weapon creation even as she was making one. She had been going on for some time about the basics of the art – the functionality of each part of a weapon and how they were, in her mind, like puzzles that could assemble several different pictures.

It was a striking mental image, one he committed to memory, even as he thought on the larger ramifications of her actions. For a battlemaster to gift his warriors weapons, armor and food was a given. But rarely if ever did krogan have the skills to forge weapons themselves, according to the imprints from the tank. Such honors were only given to those of the most critical importance and personal significance to the tribe.

Of course, by granting him her name, she had already adopted him into her own clan, based on nothing more than his potential strength. He was highly flattered she was impressed enough by his power to give him a further honor, even if it was somewhat unconventional by krogan standards. Then again, she was human – he didn't expect her to realize the significance of what she had done.

The gesture still mattered. Curious, given how Okeer described humans as usually being self-absorbed.

Okeer's voice, dismissive and cool, had pictured the krogan as little more than broken savages, unworthy of anything but scorn – but still superior to humans. Humans were weak, squabbling with themselves over stupid things, and presented as the sex slaves of the asari. Most humans were easily killed and their frail bodies didn't even have secondary organs except for kidneys.

Worse, the humans constantly tried and failed to match the machinations of the salarians and asari, grasping at power that would only get their entire race destroyed if they succeeded in achieving such. Okeer expected them to either be subsumed through cultural sabotage by the asari or obliterated by the salarians in less than a century – far less, if his contacts in asari and salarian space were not exaggerating.

So he had expected weakness from humans. Frailty. Not necessarily stupidity, but definitely frivolity.

Shepard did not fit any of the images in the tank. He watched attentively as she continued her basic primer on weapon design, his agile mind memorizing the framework of what she spoke of even as he continued to think about his new battlemaster.

She was stronger and faster than he was, which should be impossible. From her smell, he knew some of that was probably cybernetic implants, but what the tank told him of such implied such power would be very rare and hideously expensive. Beyond that, she was a biotic. And while biotic cyborgs were not totally unknown, the tank only listed one of any real power – Tetrimus Rakora.

Based on what little she had told him about the group she was allied with, this Cerberus, they were also not weak. Okeer's implants touched only on them briefly, but he was admiring of their leader, calling him both cunning and ruthless.

Shepard herself, however, continued to surprise him. She, like Okeer himself, was not merely a warrior. She lead. If she was matching wits with the Broker, then she had to dabble in intelligence and espionage. She commanded fleets as well as soldiers. And now he was discovering she had a master-crafter's touch with weapons that far exceeded those he had been shown in the tank.

He glanced around the well stocked armory, thinking about that. Racks of gleaming weapons – shotguns, rifles, assault weapons – were stacked neatly, but the designs were unfamiliar. He frowned. "Battlemaster. The weapons here...did you also design them?"

Shepard paused in building a shock framework for the shotgun she was making and nodded. "Yeah, I did. When I died, my design notebook was … taken. It fell into the hands of Cerberus along with my body, and they used it to make my designs for various weapons."

Grunt nodded. "So everyone uses weapons you design them?" For some reason the idea she was merely doing for him what she had done for others stung. A moment later, that faded to a warm glow at her words and snort.

"Hardly. The designs here were for mass production anyway. What I'm making you is customized for your size, frame, and what I suspect is your combat outlook." She paused, her voice faltering for a second. "I've...only made one other weapon custom for its owner. Well, two, actually. One for the man who … I guess you could call my battlemaster, the one who trained me not to fight like a blood raging krogan." She exhaled. "Not that it did me any good in the end."

Grunt didn't know whether that was good or bad, but the note of mixed pride and pain in her voice was enough for him to realize brashness was a bad idea. "And the other?"

Shepard swallowed. "My … mate. The Broker's assassin killed her." She exhaled. "Her death, and that of my friends, is the only the reason I am still … alive. Or alive once more. She and my friends sacrificed themselves to recover my body, so that Cerberus could revive me." She balled her fist.

Grunt had no training on how to deal with humans. The tank imprints suggested leaders merely acted and if they were powerful enough, other krogan would follow. But he was not stupid. He didn't know where he would end up, but he knew his place well enough, behind his battle master. And if someone had hurt his battlemaster, who gifted him with her name and her brilliance at weapons…

He felt anger stir, and smiled grimly. Drawing himself up to his full height and making his voice louder, he spoke firmly. "Then we will find the people who killed them and crush them to paste. Yes?"

She paused, then gave a faint, bitter laugh. "Yes. It won't bring them back, but … it is all I have."

Grunt frowned. "...the imprint Okeer left me is often useless. Some of it … is just words. But some of the words have wisdom in them. 'Revenge is never pointless if it stops those who would inflict suffering on others as they have done to you'."

Shepard wiped her eyes angrily and nodded. "Well, how about that. Wisdom from the dead." She sighed. "He's fucking right, though. God knows how many lives the Broker has ruined, and even now he's convinced the Council the Reapers are not a threat."

Grunt's stomach had interrupted the first part of her quest to make a weapon, so she studied and consulted with Vigil while the krogan had eaten his first meal. Given that Shepard was occupied, Miranda had taken it upon herself to explain to Grunt about the Reapers, the Collectors, and the Broker.

Grunt was not sure how he felt about such honorless foes. The Reapers were simply too large for him to get his brain around. He would have faith that Shepard would crush them. The Collectors were sneaking filth, hiding behind an impenetrable relay and attacking the defenseless. The imprint suggested such actions were those of an enemy who lacked strength of numbers.

That only meant they would be easy prey.

The Broker, on the other hand, discomfited Grunt's mindset. Even now, as he watched Shepard return to work on the weapon, he felt his plate tighten at the thought of the Network. The very antithesis of krogan pride in direct combat... Okeer had admired them and worked with them.

Hazy images of the one known as Tetrimus were prefaced with warning after warning. Okeer himself had been deeply uncertain of his own ability to defeat the crippled looking turian, and several warnings suggested such frailty was more melodramatic acting on the part of the assassin.

Shepard sighed, and refocused on the weapon in front of her. "Stupid of me, getting … emotional. It just hurts, and I don't know how to deal with that. I'm just … running on fucking empty, sometimes. When I'm not distracting myself."

The krogan looked at her in curiosity, his limited life experiences drawing a blank. But he was not stupid. He knew – from the imprints – what love was. Love for krogan was different in some ways...but certainly he could understand the rage that would erupt from losing a beloved mate or child to treachery.

Another of Okeer's many sayings floated across his thoughts. "An empty soul cannot feel grief. An empty heart cannot feel rage." He rolled his shoulders, feeling both upset and angry that he could think of nothing more to be of use.

Shepard tilted her head, then gave him a smile. "...thanks, big guy. Not too many people bother to try and cheer me up. I try not to let myself think about it." She looked back down at the weapon. "Easier to focus on the killing."

Grunt nodded, deciding to steer her towards that. "You say that the weapon has to be tailored to the warrior. But most weapons aren't. Why do you do that?"

Shepard frowned, bending over further to start attaching some kind of electronics to the bulky central barrel of what she was making. "A lot of weapons manufacturers are making guns that will be used by all kinds of people. Or even multiple races. Turians have better eyesight, batarians can make snapshots a lot better, so on and so forth. When I was learning about the kanquess from the asari, they taught me that each race's weapons teach you how they fight, what they focus on."

She bent down to pick out a part from the bench, and laid it alongside the barrel. "Asari weapons draw on an asari's innate biotics. Turian weapons have special sights designed for their eyes. Salarians incorporate grenades into most everything they use to keep enemies out of melee range. So many focused possibilities, but a lot end up getting lost by the more popular weapon lines, so they'll sell better to all aliens."

She bit her lip, using a small tool to link leads of omni-filament together. "But the idea of making something fit the person using it stuck with me. I looked at how I made my ODIN, how it was … focused on how I fought, and how some other guns I liked more or less, and some I hated. And then I sort of realized that the more generic were the ones I didn't like."

She picked up some more parts from the side, snapping them into place. "Basically, Grunt, the key to what I build is simple. A gun can't be everything to everyone. And it can't be taken as a blank slate. It has to fit the personality of the user. Every idiot says a gun is for killing people. But that's a stupid way to look at it. A gun is really a tool. It can be useful for killing, but that's not all you do with one."

He banished his musings, paying full attention. "What else use is a weapon if not to kill?"

She smirked. "To intimidate, by shape and its firepower. To provide suppression fire. To breach a door, to blow open a locked panel. A signaling device. A makeshift explosive. Lots of things. Most of all, if your weapons are unpredictable, you are hard to counter."

Her smirk widened. "I've lost track of how many morons I've killed that assumed the shotgun I use was useless at medium range, not knowing it can shift from a cone blast to a solid slug configuration. Most shotguns don't offer that option. Likewise, most shotguns aren't good against heavy armor – I use armor piercing wedges, mostly just to deal with that issue, while most standard shotguns don't because they go through ammo blocks faster."

She flipped the weapon frame over. "Basically, I ask myself when I make a gun how does one fight with it, and what weaknesses are built into it. For you..." She bit her lip, thinking. "You're going to always be a target. You are a big guy, and most are going to see you as the most dire threat. You can soak a lot of damage, but you aren't ever going to be useful at very long ranges. Cover is a problem. You need to use mobility, aggression and damage to control your assault."

He smiled at such a concept as she continued. "I'll get you a longer range weapon for dealing with targets out of immediate combat range. Something heavy. That will be mostly suppressive fire with an anti-armor component." She bent over, pulling some tools out of the drawers beneath the omni-forge's slab-like upper surface, and then laid them on top, fiddling with something. "But for the most part you will have to hold a line with me."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "The rest of the team won't be able to survive the hits you and I can. The biotics are tough, but having a barrier shatter on you hurts. The quarians are also tougher than they look – Tali survived losing an arm and a leg. But I'd rather not risk them."

Grunt nodded. His tank imprints on quarians were extremely sketchy – although Okeer was old enough to remember what they looked like under the suits. "Quarians...are vulnerable to infection if their suits are breached."

Shepard nodded. "The two quarian ladies I fight with have armor plating on their suits, as well as strong kinetic shields and omni-plating, but things can and will go wrong in a hurry. If the enemy is busy pissing themselves over being charged by you and I, they won't be shooting at them."

Shepard snapped something into place on the weapon. "Not that charging is always the best action. There's no point wasting ammo closing to short range if you can kill them at long range."

Grunt frowned. "Krogan are not typically longer range fighters."

She shrugged. "No, not typically. At range you're not any better than anyone else. Up close, you can shrug off hits and break people in melee. Problem with that is getting into melee range. I have biotics so I can cheat, but what I studied in officer school said krogan had to give up after the Genophage because you couldn't do swarm assault tactics and absorb losses to get into melee range anymore."

Grunt nodded. "The Genophage...Okeer was obsessed with it. Pfagh. The Genophage, in his mind, broke my people into a new mold, one they refused to fit into." He narrowed his eyes. "But if I do not charge, then what..."

She laughed. "You will be charging...sometimes. Mostly from flanking positions if possible. I can't think of anything worse than being flanked by a half ton pissed off krogan. There's times when a charge is stupid, though. Charging into fixed positions with heavy weapons and snipers will get you killed. You have to use your mind and the tools you have to get the job done."

She smiled, laying out one of the long, green Prothean crystals. "Speaking of tools...alright, Vigil. I've got basic frameworks laid out, and an energy router with a capacitor. A mass effect field generator will shape the blast...how do I power this thing ?"

Vigil erupted into being. "The Protheans were supremely unimaginative with the Inusannon technology I gave them, because they were too stupid to use most of it. The crystals were their methods of attempting to create anti-particle beam weapons, but they could never figure out how to do phase-type shifting in small sizes."

Vigil floated over the workbench. "These are barium doped periodically poled lithium niobate crystals, set into a specific matrix. Triangular, to be exact, forming a primitive if effective loop that can accelerate particles."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Well, that's as clear as mud."

The sphere gave a human sounding sigh. "In a stupid fashion then – the crystal is a particle waveguide. Similar to a conventional particle beam weapon, it acts as the cyclotronic element. Instead of pure particle emission, however, it affects particle interaction and creates streams of unstable particle fragments. The mass effect generator accelerates these to vast speeds, and the side effects of the crystal itself add an element of projected high-energy radiation."

Vigil extruded a pseduopod over the crystal, lines of white energy wrapping around the bottom half of the crystal.. "The result was a damaging, highly focused stream capable of shearing through almost anything it hit. Without the rest of the focusing arrays – which you do not have the capacity to build – the resulting weapon will simply spray out a cone of vastly unstable particles, high energy gamma rays, and possibly some electrical discharge from polarity shifts."

Shepard smiled. "That's fucking fascinating, but doesn't explain how I power it."

The sphere withdrew, revealing the attachment of a new Inusannon power star at one end of the crystal. "I have handled that. Have the trigger function activate the star. I would also install heat sinks and heat venting, the crystal will generate a great deal of heat."

Shepard grunted, shooing the sphere out of the way. "Have to mount the crystal center-line and hold it in place with mag-clamps, then...probably droplet sinks in the under-barrel, good place to have a grip. Intake valves and air cool the rest." She began pulling out more parts, and then glanced up at Vigil.

"Thanks."

The sphere wobbled. "None are needed. It is an inventive use of the technology, as mangled as it is. I presume this is some sort of shotgun?"

She nodded. "I'm adding a mag-rail launcher assembly from a Phaeston in the under-barrel below the sinks, so he has a longer-range option, but yeah. Given that a single shot went right through me like nothing, I'm figuring if he blasts someone with this, they won't get up."

The sphere gave an incredulous snort. "If someone is shot at this range with a destabilized particle blast, there is likely to be nothing left behind to get up."

Grunt nodded. "Good. Heh heh heh."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard had lots of work left on Grunt's weapon, but had to allow the omni-forge to bake the outer housing and give the omni-leads time to set, as well as come up with a targeting package for the gun. She sent Grunt off to talk to Dost about his armor, as she didn't know if it was just for show or battle ready.

Deciding to get out of the armory, she walked to the living level, and found herself surprised to see Jack and Zaeed both there, in the eating area, standing in front of a Tupari machine. The machine had been altered to dispense drinks without having to pay credits for them, but something must have gone wrong.

"Jeez, old man. Just call a fuckin' engineer to fix it." Jack folded her arms, her voice sounding bored.

Zaeed gave her a sidelong glance of disgust. "I'm gonna find whoever rigged this guddamned thing up and gut them. It fucking mocked me. Nothing mocks me."

Shepard walked up. "Problems?"

Jack jerked a thumb in the mercenary's direction. "It won't give him a lemon-lime Tupari. He wants me to melt the door off with warpfire."

Shepard sighed. "Zaeed, there's Tupari in the fridge too. I have no fucking clue why Cerberus stuck vending machines in here, but I don't want parts of my base blown up."

He glared at the machine. "This isn't over." He stalked away, and Jack shook her head.

Shepard smiled at the younger woman, seeing she still had the armored vest on. "Still got a little time before TIM and the rest of the new people show up. Feel like training?"

Jack rolled her eyes. "No, fuck that. I'm still tired from the shit we did before. I want a drink. All you have in this place is fucking water, Tupari and coffee. Where's the hard shit?"

Shepard quirked her lips. "I dunno. But I have some of my own, come on." She lead Jack around the edge of the eating spaces, down a corridor that lead to her own quarters, and then stepped inside.

Shepard's quarters on the base itself were large and roomy, but like the ones on the Normandy, she'd done little to personalize the place. The image of Liara was at the end of her desk along with various datapads, and a pair of hooks near her bed held her warp sword, but that was about all she'd done.

Shepard walked down into the main room, towards the corner where a mini-fridge and a small food processing unit was situated. She pulled out a bottle of scotch and two plastic cups, as Jack flopped down on the long leather couch.

The ex-con glanced around, sneering. "Cerberus certainly doesn't skimp on the good shit, do they?"

Shepard walked to the table next to Jack, and poured out the drink into the glasses, pushing her hair back as it fell into her face from leaning over. "No, they don't. Not that I give a shit."

Jack picked up the drink, mindful of how strong it was, and sipped rather than gulped. She then glanced at Shepard, watching as the taller woman turned away to stare at the large haptic display of the base's many levels.

Shepard's voice was soft when she spoke, but clear. "I've never been to Omega. Heard about it, from stories some of the slaves I freed told me of. Heard from what it was like from Tali and Joker, when they were there to get my body."

Jack leaned back. "It's a pretty fucked up place. Back before I got iced, Archangel was just getting started up. Been reading the news, that nutjob has really cleaned house, but he's going to get his shit pushed in now. All the gangs are teaming up."

Shepard gave a breathy little laugh. "Well, hopefully we can get him out of there before they find him. We'll have to wait and see what happens." She turned back to face Jack. "You find anything else about your family?"

Jack's expression faltered. "...yeah. Looks like my mom died of eezo dusting complications not long after I was born. My father got hurt about two years after I was born, he was trying to work two jobs to make enough money while his sister watched me. The records don't show what happened after that, except I ended up in an orphanage and was picked up by Cerberus goons along with a bunch of other young kids."

She exhaled. "My aunt is dead. Vigil said he couldn't find any trace of my father. There's some distant relatives, I guess, but they don't know me from anybody else..." She grimaced.

Shepard nodded, taking a shot of her drink. "Sorry that didn't pan out better for you."

The younger woman gave a tired shrug. "Nothing new there. Shit never works out right in the end, seems like." She drank, and leaned back on the couch. "Starting over again isn't so bad. I mean, yeah, there's Cerberus, but if they leave me the fuck alone...well, I don't have any better options right now."

Shepard nodded again, not sure of what to say. After a moment, she just went with what was on her mind. "So, did you want to talk about anything, or just a drink?"

Jack's head came up, and she gave a weak smile. "Dunno. Ain't like there's lots of people to talk to here. Some of your marines are a bit too busy eyeing me up for me to bother with."

Shepard snorted. "That's what you get when you go around dressed in goddamned bandages, looking like a cheap-dancer from Chora's Den."

Jack shrugged. "More than once, some stupid bastard took a look and got distracted enough for me to kill him. Idiots want to look at me like a piece of fuck-meat, I'm going to use it for everything I can." She shrugged. "Don't mean I like it."

Shepard sighed. "Well, you don't have to do that now. And you are wearing the vest. Maybe they were just checking your ink out? And surely there's others you can talk to."

Jack rolled her eyes, then shook her head. "Zaeed's pretty cool. I mean, old as fuck, but he tells some good stories. It all sounds like bullshit until you realize he actually pulled it off." Her lips curled into a smile. "He also doesn't like Miranda very much."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "He say why?"

Jack waved a hand. "Some shit about how women who dress up to show off their tits and asses can't be expected to be taken seriously. Almost said something, but wasn't worth the effort." She sipped the drink. "Gotta say, he's not wrong about the Cheerleader. She's just screaming out 'pay attention to me!'

Shepard fished her cigarettes out of her front pocket and lit one. "Maybe. Miranda means well, like I said. I know you have some issues with Cerberus – hell, so do I – but taking it out on her won't fix anything."

Jack shrugged. "Meh. Let's get to Omega. Before we blow the place up, we can order up some asari strippers and blow off steam, get smashed."

Shepard gave the younger woman a look. "Riiight. Because no one will give a second glance at the white armor and start freaking out."

The ex-con drained her glass and laughed. "Ha, that's on you. Ain't my fault you can't go out and get any… I already offered to help."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "You keep throwing that out, maybe Miranda isn't the only one trying to get noticed?" She chuckled as Jack stuttered and blushed a bit, before moving to sit down on the couch herself.

She leaned back, taking a puff of her cigarette, and sighed. "I wasn't ever much of a party girl. Too scared of getting really drunk and doing something stupid. Maybe after I blow the Broker's head off I'll have one."

Jack poured herself some more scotch. "You're a downer sometimes. Fuck that. You never got lit up, just bang, go for it?"

Shepard shrugged. "Once or twice. Couple of times that went down … badly." She puffed on the cigarette again. "Later on, there wasn't much point. I cut loose some after we took down Benezia and after my wedding, but it was more of a private thing." Her voice dropped. "Hard to want to do that sort of thing now, with all I've lost."

Jack nodded, her large eyes flickering over Shepard's form before turning to the glass in her hand. "For someone telling me I need to let go of my past and think about who I want to be, you sure do bury yourself in it."

Shepard opened her mouth to answer that, then stopped. A second later she spoke. "Probably so. I wanted to change who I was...for someone else's sake, I guess, not my own. And now that she's gone..."

Jack gave an angry snort. "What? Because she's dead you're just gonna let yourself slide back to where you were? Fuck, Shepard, even I'm not that dumb. You think that is what she'd want?"

Shepard pursed her lips. "No. But it is easier said than done." She inhaled cigarette smoke, blowing it out with a sigh. "I try to remember what I've learned, how I changed, what it has shown me. But the more I do that, the more I think about what I've lost."

She put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. "I can't function like that. It hurts too much to focus on it, and right now I can't deal with that. Easier to just focus on killing the bad guys."

Jack didn't like the note in Shepard's voice. "Sounds like bullshit and fear to me. Then again, this is why I don't let myself get attached and shit. It's a lot easier to just get shitfaced, have a good hard fuck, and then keep moving."

Shepard sipped her drink. "And that sounds like just pretending there's no problem and using people to feel better. If the only relationships you have are shallow, it's no fucking wonder people will betray you." She shrugged. "I've had a lot of the same thoughts you have, Jack. I moved past that, but … I don't know where the hell I am now."

She sipped the drink again. "I mean...fuck! I was dead. Not to keep bringing it up, but when I shot that torp at whatever killed the Normandy, I knew I was done for. Except now I'm not, and everything is even MORE completely fucked than when I kicked the bucket. That's what I meant, I guess. There's no point to … doing much of anything."

Jack raised her eyebrows. "So you feel since the people you loved are dead, that you just give the fuck up? That changing who you were doesn't mean shit? Man, Kai would hate you."

Shepard frowned. "What do you mean?"

The ex-con leaned back a bit further. "Kai told me that you couldn't depend on anyone else to give you a reason to live. They'd either betray you or get killed and leave you alone. He said I had to find my own reason to give a shit, not borrow someone else's idea, or it would always end up with me being used."

She drank, wiping her mouth after. "I'm not saying you should just put it all behind you. Fuck, if I was in a serious relationship with anyone and they got killed..."

The younger woman trailed off, then shook her head. "But that's not the point. If you tell me I gotta change to be who I need to be, then it should be same for you. You still got friends, doncha? That quarian, that moron Joker, your marines."

Shepard gave her a tired smile. "...pretty heavy for you, Jack."

Jack snorted. "Bitch, I'm awesome in every way." She drained the second glass of scotch, blinking a bit after doing so. "How much of this shit do you drink?"

Shepard sighed. "Never enough." She glanced over at the status panel, flashing red in the armory. "I got some minor things to finish up, Jack. We'll probably need to do a bit more training before we head to Omega."

The convict stood. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'm taking this bottle, though, Zaeed was looking for a drink earlier."

Shepard waved her on, leaving her quarters and walking to the armory, her mind full of thoughts. Jack surprised her – both with caring about what Shepard herself was going through and being willing to open up about how she felt.

As Shepard headed towards the lifts, she thought again about the awkward conversation in the engineering hold. It wasn't that Jack wasn't pretty. She was exotic, striking, and just as damaged as Shepard herself was. But it wasn't healthy to throw herself into some kind of fucked up relationship with someone who had already been used over and over again just to pull herself together.

Then again, Shepard had ended up relying on Liara to help her pull herself together. And part of the problem, she knew, was that she was lonely, as emo as that sounded.

Jack probably had a workable idea, if Shepard just wanted to have some empty sex. Put on a disguise, get an asari stripper with a fetish for kink, and blow off steam. But that was asking for trouble of its own, especially if the asari got any of Shepard's memories. Plus, if she was honest, she didn't want empty sex – she wanted someone to cling to, to tell herself she could heal past this hole in everything that she was.

As she reached the elevator, she wondered who to talk to about it. Not goddamned Chambers, that was for sure. Maybe she could sit down with Sedanya, although she had to admit she didn't know the doctor real well. Maybe Pressly, though there was no telling what he'd say.

In a way though, it didn't really matter what anyone else said. All that mattered was the truth.

Jack was throwing her own words back in her face...and was absolutely right. The Broker had to die. Tetrimus had to die. But this was not the first time she'd lost everything. She'd lost it all on Torfan, when her squad left her kneeling in the dirt. She'd never thought she'd get over that...and ended up moving on to experience things that made life worth living.

Letting herself sit here and agonize over what she lost wasn't any better than sitting around agonizing over what she never had before Liara came along. It was just hiding from what was, and that wasn't going to help her in the long run. If that meant pushing through pain and finding someone new, then that's what she would have to do.

She entered the elevator and forced her thoughts to clear. She had a weapon to finish.

O-TWCD-O

The arrival of Jack Harper to Shepard's asteroid base happened at nearly the same time Trellani's pinnace landed. Given that Shepard's talk with Jack had delayed her finishing up with Grunt's weapon, she instructed Miranda to handle it, saying she'd be down in a few minutes once she put on her armor.

Miranda didn't really see the point of Shepard 'revealing' herself in such a fashion, but decided not to comment. That left Miranda and Pressly to greet the arrivals.

Pressly himself was walking around for the first time in years, using a cane but smiling widely nonetheless. His cybernetic eye surgery had gone well, and he wore the standard Cerberus dress uniform – a high collared tunic of armor-weave with SA-style bulked shoulders, fastened with snaps to one side – but with the Cerberus logo removed.

He had spoken at length with Miranda about the military organization of the people Shepard was gathering, as well as legal status. Miranda had suggested discussing with General Petrovsky, who would be accompanying Harper, so he was here waiting.

Harper's pinnace landed first, touching down to the far left of the shuttle bay, the side hatch opening a few minutes later. Harper himself stepped out first, dressed in deep cobalt blue slacks and matching blazer, with a square-collared off-silver shirt and a ribbon tie of deep blue. Behind him, Petrovsky followed, wearing the same sort of uniform as Pressly but with golden bars across his shoulders and the Cerberus insignia gleaming from the high collar.

Harper glanced around, fixing his gaze on Miranda and Pressly after a moment and walking over to them. "Miranda. And Mr. Pressly. Good to see you have recovered under our care." He extended a hand to the stocky man, who shook it.

Pressly's voice was firm but cool, like his handshake. "I appreciate the dedication of your medical staff. This is all still something I'm adjusting to – I will admit I did not expect to discover my old CO had been returned from death...or that Cerberus had survived."

Harper inclined his head, and gestured to Petrovsky. "Miranda said you had some questions for the general...while we wait, you might as well ask them."

Pressly nodded and turned to face the stentorian features of the general, who was stroking his goatee. "I have the sort of concerns any XO might have when his CO is under a great deal of stress and the situation is not exactly regulation. First of all, what is Shepard's legal status as far as citizenship goes? Or, for that matter, ours?"

Petrovsky sniffed. "A curious concern. The Alliance Code of Military Justice implies that upon confirmation of death military members are discharged honorably. For members already discharged, there is no limitation as to what you can get up to... in theory."

He folded his arms. "There is one legal precedent, where a member believed KIA had actually staged his own death and deserted. SA JAG wanted to court marshal him, but his attorney argued – successfully – that his legal death severed the ability for the military to have any authority over him. The fact that he staged his death and went AWOL as a result did not invalidate the fact that the SA had effectively declared him legally dead."

Petrovsky smiled. "Of course, such an act also revoked his SA citizenship, and the Commissars shot him in the head via summary execution for treason. Legally, every member of Cerberus is technically in violation of the Code of Law, Section Six. But that is a very hard technical sell to make, since Cerberus was destroyed and removed from the list of subversive organizations."

Pressly sighed. "So we are not technically criminals."

Petrovsky waggled a hand. "We aren't. The problem will be Shepard. Mr. Dost, Ms. Zorah, Mr. Moreau, Mr. Taylor, and all of Shepard's marine team – as well as yourself – were all discharged. Some honorably, some dishonorably. Doesn't matter, you aren't subject to the ACMJ at that point. Likewise, until and unless you take action against the SA, the Commissars don't have a case."

Petrovsky sighed. "Shepard was active duty at the time of her death...and I suspect they will make the argument she had a duty, upon 'awakening' , to make contact with the Alliance to inform them of her survival. The lawyers will have a field day with it. Her citizenship – given her noble status – is also technically active...making her subject to the whim of the High Lords, if not the Commissars."

Harper appeared amused. "Might I ask why you're so concerned about the legalities, Mr. Pressly?"

Pressly gave a tight smile. "At some point, sir, she's going to have to make contact in her real identity with the Alliance. If there is any legal way the Alliance can shut her down – or shut you down – they're going to use it. And even if they don't go after her, the others involved are vulnerable. If Shepard's marine team and I – not to mention Joker – aren't absolutely legally clear, the Commissars will have every right to put our families into re-education or just kill them if we don't surrender to their custody."

He met Harper's gaze. "I'm sure you probably think that's just the cost of doing business, saving the galaxy or whatever, but I don't intend to sacrifice my son and his wife. I doubt Mr. Vega wants his nephew shot, or that Joker would like it if his family was arrested."

He glanced at Petrovsky. "Second, I'm concerned about the legality because of what Shepard has already done. Blowing up pirates and what not may or may not be frowned on – killing Okeer is going to vastly irritate a large number of people across the galaxy. That will make working with the Alliance and other groups a lot harder … unless we have rock solid legal reasons for acting the way we did. It may seem silly given the threat of the Reapers … but it's my job to consider the things the boss overlooks."

Harper smiled. "And this, Miranda, is why I suggested learning from Mr. Pressly. As it happens, I have already made … arrangements for anything of that nature happening, at least in terms of Commissars threatening family members. Cerberus is low on manpower, but we have enough people that we can extract a handful of people. We have a number of front corporations outside of Alliance space where they can be employed."

He turned, as the proximity alarm sounded and the bay doors slid open as another pinnace approached. "Shepard's return to public life is something I've extensively prepared for – I have had a team of lawyers working on all of the possible angles for almost a year now. I have not overlooked that aspect of events, Mr. Pressly."

The ex-Alliance officer shrugged. "I see. That's good to hear."

Harper watched as the pinnace closed range. "How exactly are you and Miranda dividing your duties, by the way? Out of curiosity."

The two exchanged glances before Miranda spoke. "Mr. Pressly is the executive officer of the Normandy, and assists with duties here on the base otherwise. I remain second-in-command of the operation, per Shepard's instructions, but my lack of experience in running a space vessel means I am less use in day-to-day ship functions."

Harper nodded as the pinnace touched down. Pressly watched him carefully – if he didn't know better, the Illusive Man almost looked worried or nervous.

The pinnace hatch slid open, a ramp sliding out and down from just below it, and the first figures off the boat were Kai Leng and Theo Pellham, in civilian clothing. The swordsman's long ballistic coat was missing and his shirt was spattered with purple blood here and there, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Trellani came down next, and Pressly watched Harper stiffen ever so slightly. She was heavily bandaged, and given that there had been no change of clothes on the pinnace, still wore her blood-stained, damaged formal dress, her shawl re-purposed into a sling for one arm. She was limping as she walked down the ramp, but her expression was calm.

Harper exhaled slowly as the rest filed out – Taylor, a slender salarian wearing thin-line body armor under an armored coat, and finally a slender woman in black armor with a hood, limping worse than Trellani was.

Said woman came to a stop at the foot of the ramp. "...holy shit. The Illusive Man?"

Mordin Solus folded his arms. "Unexpected for you to greet us yourself." He glanced around the shuttle bay, taking in the ranks of combat shuttles and fighters.

Harper smiled tightly. "It is only one of several facilities, Doctor Solus. And – "

He broke off as the far doors opened, and Solus' eyes widened.

The figure stepping through the doorway was tall, clad head to foot in thick white armor that by now was instantly recognizable, and followed by the single largest krogan Mordin had ever seen in person. She walked up slowly towards the group, coming to a stop next to Miranda.

Trellani smiled faintly. "I suspect Mr. Taylor, Ms. Goto and I all need medical attention at this point, but it might be of some use to get the introductions and usual gawping disbelief out of the way."

Kasumi Goto frowned. "...we're working for the Butcher? Trellani-sama, I didn't know Cerberus had so many aliens in it."

Trellani's soft laugh made Shepard smirk. "They would surprise you, sometimes. But I fear the Butcher is just a story."

Mordin tilted his head. "Cover identity? Hiding from the Thirty perhaps?"

Shepard tapped her helmet controls, revealing her features. There was a long moment of silence in the shuttle bay.

Goto tapped her two index fingers together after a moment. "Um...aren't you dead?"

Shepard folded her arms. "I was. They brought me back."

The younger woman's eyes widened in the shadow of her cowl, but Mordin stepped forward. "Unexpected. Completely unexpected. Thought possible dissident, based on evidence of Council report, possible survival of...never mind. How possible? Stasis fields would not preserve body. Use of – "

Shepard held up one hand. "Once we get you briefed, Doctor...Solus? I'm sure Miranda and the other doctors who actually performed the procedures will be more than happy to brag how goddamned smart they were and how it works." She exhaled. "For now, I understand there's some extremely important intelligence Ms. Goto has."

The thief slumped slightly. "Hai. It … well. It's really bad. It got my … fiancee killed, and my best friend. And...it's not something you can forget. If it got out..." Her voice was hollow, tired sounding. Taylor gave her a squeeze on the shoulder, and she gave him a grateful smile, before lifting her head.

Harper had been looking worriedly at Trellani. "Shepard, not to delay, but several of them could use some medical attention. Go ahead and have Miranda set up your central conference room."

Shepard nodded. "Pressly, can you take our guests who need it to medical?" She glanced uncertainly at the two assassins. "You two need anything?"

Kai Leng shook his head. "We have yet another mission – "

Pel cut him off with a glare. "Actually, a goddamned shower, some grub and a few hours of downtime when we're not being chased by a Broker cruiser to catch some Z's would be great, lady."

Shepard nodded. "Vigil, find Jack, tell her to come escort her pen pals to get something to eat and whatever else they need."

Kai shook his head, but Pel brightened. Shepard glanced at Harper and Petrovsky. "If .. I might have a few minutes with the General..."

Petrovsky snorted. "Go on, Jack. I'll catch up." He watched as people filed out of the shuttle bay before turning to Shepard. "It is good to see you … well, alive at least."

She folded her arms. "Why Cerberus, sir? You didn't seem like the kind of guy back when you bailed me out last time to go for the whole human supremacy thing."

He sighed. "I joined Cerberus for one reason. My friend was in it, and he was losing sight of who he was, and what he'd started it for." He exhaled. "Jack is … was … a good man at one time. He lost a lot of what made him good, and keeping him in the light is a constant battle between myself and his asari."

Shepard frowned. "Trellani?"

He nodded. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but she's fucking crazy."

Shepard gave a wide smirk. "Yeah, that kind of stands out. "

He nodded, eyes fixed on her. "I will not begrudge her quarrel with the Thirty – some of what we have uncovered about them is monstrous beyond the darkest nightmares of the Alliance. But her hatreds have made him more willing to accept extreme reactions to what should be simple problems."

She nodded. She could respect the idea of not abandoning your friends, especially when they needed help. "Alright. But …"

Petrovsky smiled. "I'm fairly sure I know why you distrust Cerberus. And ultimately, Shepard, it doesn't matter if you trust or distrust. In fact, distrust is fine in my eyes – as long as you work with us to the fullest extent. I'm briefed in on every aspect of what Cerberus does, and while there are one or two projects you would dislike...none of them are violating the rights of aliens or committing crimes against decency."

He sighed. "But Trellani's plans won't fit in such neat categories. And at some point, if we ever expect to able to work with the Citadel Council, Jack is going to have to choose between Trellani or you. The Thirty fear her and have been trying to kill her for years."

Shepard sneered. "Shock, the Thirty being unreasonable cunts." She sighed. "Anyway, I just wanted to get your...take on things. You still don't seem like the type to be in league with Cerberus."

Petrovsky smiled again. "Then you should stop defining Cerberus by its past actions, and start asking yourself what you think it should be, Shepard. The fact is, with the organization as it stands now, you have just as much impact on how it will act in the future as Harper does. The vision of Rachel was for it to be a sword to decapitate the Council and show humanity's strength. Harper sees it as a safeguard against aliens doing to us what they did to the krogan and quarians."

She folded her arms. "And you?"

He walked away from her slightly, coming to a stop a few feet away, hands folded behind his back as he stared at the endless stars visible through the hangar bay doors. "To me, Cerberus is insurance. I've been exposed to enough of what the other species are up to... to realize keeping our own hands clean is simply naive arrogance."

He glanced over his shoulder. "One could argue that you don't need to use depravity to ensure survival, or that doing so means you've become a monster. But that isn't the case, nor should it ever be. I would much rather be a monster and keep the innocents in the Alliance alive than have my conscience clean and watch them be destroyed."

She shook her head. "And when it goes too far, and you end up cutting up aliens and doing shit like NOVENSILES?"

He snorted. "NOVENSILES is something the High Lords have … backed. Then again, that is what happens when you give unlimited power to the privileged." He turned to face her. "But to answer your real question in a way you won't like Shepard...so what?"

His expression darkened. "The salarians are experimenting on and destroying thousands of salarian eggs every year. They are dissecting human, asari and drell slaves to cook up ways to Genophage us or worse – tens of thousands of such have died in their labs. As a precaution. The Thirty have been using the Nightwind – ardat-yakshi – and worse to corrupt and control their own people for millennia."

She grimaced, but shook her head. "So what? What good does it do to sink ourselves to that kind of fucking bullshit? Is it going to stop them from doing it to us?"

He smiled crookedly. "That isn't the point, ultimately. There is a big difference in being willing to engage in less than salubrious things – like the SA's work with the Thorian – and in tossing aside all decency for the sake of staying in power. The things Cerberus did in the past – before Richard and Rachel took it all to hell – were those kind of Faustian bargains so many people seem to hate."

He exhaled. "Blowing up freighters to force eezo dustings of our citizens. Killing a Pope who would have weakened the Neo-Catholic church in the name of harmony with the asari. Assassinations of politicians and business leaders co-opted – or corrupted – by alien influences. Sabotaging defensive installations to allow pirates to slip through and do damage, to drum up military spending."

He sighed. "None of that was … designed to put Cerberus into a position of power. It was to burn away weakness in the Alliance. To do the ugly acts no one else wanted to. Not doing those things would have made us weaker."

He looked at her. "When I joined the military, I did so to protect my home, my family. My people. I had no ideas of what aliens were up to. As I aged, and learned, and saw, I came to realize the darkness isn't in the people – human or alien. It is in their leaders, who will do anything to hang on to power."

He adjusted his uniform. "That's why I tell myself I am here – to make sure Cerberus sticks to acting only when it must, and never to pursue power. To not let us get carried away."

Shepard shook her head. "And you have no problems with that?"

Petrovsky turned to face her. "It isn't a matter of having problems with it. It's a matter of being honest about the alternatives. I don't want to have to kill humans. I don't want Cerberus to have to act like it did in the past. I certainly don't want it to be twisted into something it wasn't, because Trellani hates the Thirty and is dragging us into a conflict with them."

He folded his arms. "But I'm not going to blind myself to the truth, either. There will come a time where we may have to take ugly action to prevent worse things from happening to humanity." He walked over towards her, and smiled. "That isn't the kind of truth you want to face."

She looked at him, before looking away. "I don't seem to have much choice, sir. Trying to do things the right way only got me and everyone I cared about horribly killed." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I need to do some more thinking. Thank you for letting me get your view."

He nodded. "Shepard, this is much like the situation with General Adams and I. Both he and I strongly felt we were each trying to do the right thing and that the other person was missing the point. Hindsight is, and always will be, 20/20. And yet it doesn't help us with making the right choices at the time of the problem."

He glanced down as his omni-tool illuminated. "Ah. Harper says they're ready to brief Ms. Goto and Doctor Solus. Shall we go?"

She nodded. "Might as well get this over with."

O-TWCD-O

As it turned out, it took about twenty minutes to get Kasumi patched up enough that Sedanya felt comfortable with her sitting down talking. The conference room was large, with thick leather liquid-mount chairs arranged around a wooden conference table studded with haptic projectors.

Shepard glanced down at the conference table, at the innocuous shape of the gray-box sitting in the dataport to one side. "I understand this is some hot intel?"

Jack Harper sat at one end of the table, with Miranda and Trellani flanking him. The latter had been cleaned up and was now wearing a silvery jumpsuit, but her arm was still in a sling. Doctor Solus sat next to Kelly Chambers, with Tali and Trudy, the ex-AIS officer who was the intelligence coordinator for the base, sitting further down.

Kasumi Goto sat at the far end, near the gray-box, a medical package over her thigh. She nodded as Shepard finished speaking. "Hai. I should probably start from the beginning. I am a thief. A good thief. A hacker, spy, whatever. I've been doing this for a long time, mostly for the thrill of doing it, but also because I needed the money."

She looked a little worried, but Shepard shrugged. "I don't care about property crimes. From what I've been told you stole from a lot of rich assholes, some of whom were involved in shadier shit than theft."

Goto nodded, giving a hard, thin smile. "Well, that's a relief, taicho. Nice to know you won't kill me for being a criminal. You ...ah, have that reputation."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Go on."

She nodded. "I didn't work alone. I helped a friend of mine with getting money to fix herself up after nearly being killed. Sometimes I donated the stuff I stole to the people who needed it. Eventually, I was nearly caught when I got tangled up with another thief. Keiji Okuda was the estranged son of an Alliance High Command admiral. We ended up together, and in love … not important to what we found."

She took a shaky breath, and Shepard winced. She watched the woman wipe her eyes, and refocus herself. From what little she knew about the thief, Okuda had been her fiance, and brutally murdered by forces unknown. Kasumi had originally thought it had been Cerberus, but later came to realize the killers were actually from the Alliance itself.

Kasumi's soft voice spoke again. "We got into a lot of secure databases over the years. The Broker hired us quite a bit, and because people knew Keiji as Admiral Okuda's son, trusted him with little bits of information they probably should not have. Nothing big, but enough that we could leverage it into more access."

She rubbed her fingertips together. "We were about to get out of the whole business. It was getting dangerous. Lots of runs ended up with us barely getting out clean. And so we did our final run together, and it was one of the biggest. A strange man hired us to do a deep penetration of the Black Network, the datastore of the Alliance's Omega-classification projects."

Trudy gasped. "That's impossible. The Black Network isn't connected to the extranet, or even the internal governmental networks. You'd need physical access points to get in."

The thief smiled. "Normally you would be right, we wouldn't have had a chance. There was some kind of traitor, someone associated with Cerberus who'd had apparently sold out to the person we met, a man called Barnes."

Harper grimaced. "Armistan Barnes. His sudden death makes more sense now." He glanced at Shepard. "Barnes was the Cerberus link to the AIS, and he did have Black Network access. It's how we learned of NOVENSILES, him and … another source."

Shepard nodded. "Before you go on, tell us about this strange man who hired you."

Kasumi bit at her lip. "Like I said he was strange. Male, in his late forties – black hair, little gray at the temples. He looked tired the four times we spoke to him, and he spoke in a pure monotone. Emotionless."

She leaned back. "He fronted us half the money for the run up front – two million credits – and didn't even bother to check we wouldn't skip town on him. When I mentioned it as a sort of joke, he gave the deadest smile I've ever seen and told us we would have never survived trying to cheat him."

She shivered. "And he knew things – things no one should have been able to know. He knew the entire patrol routines of the automated defenses of the Black Sector. He knew pass-codes, FTL lanes, everything."

Harper traded glances with Miranda, then took a sip of the drink he'd obtained from the small bar on one side of the meeting room. "I see. A new player...or possibly a Broker front."

Kasumi shook her head. "I really doubt he was from the Broker. We had done a lot of business with him, and this wasn't his contact. Also, he gave us software that was nothing like the Broker used." She paused. "I got the feeling he was working for someone else, but getting information out of him was almost impossible."

Shepard rubbed her chin. "Alright, so what happened?"

Goto nodded. "Anyway, the man – who only called himself Mr. Recondite, real cute – had this Barnes person set up a sort of back-door into the system. Problem was, it required us to split up – one of us had to be on Earth, and one had to physically travel out to the Black Zone. It was a ludicrous hack, but we were getting paid like crazy – and I'll admit, I wanted to see just what was so important about the Black Zone."

She exhaled. "I set up on Earth, near a comm relay used by the Commissars. Keiji got on a ship Mr. Recondite gave us, and headed out to the Black Zone. When we got there, there was some kind of terrorist attack on Earth that put the Silver Legion out of commission for a full day."

Harper nodded. "I remember that. The source was unknown – I always presumed it was the Broker or STG, but neither made any moves in time to capitalize on it."

She nodded slowly. "We started the hack programs up, and somehow it let us in .. I don't know. Some kind of polymorphic VI, which did the searching and pulled back several files."

She frowned. "Why it pulled these back, I don't know... We were expecting a more conventional hack, but instead Keiji was told to simply upload what he took into his gray-box. He tried a little poking around himself but the system was too weird."

She looked up. "When he was done, he disconnected and began making his way out. He commed me with his take. What we found wasn't anything that made sense. The network wasn't organized the way a normal one would be, and the VI had pulled back several large A/V files. The last two were the biggest, and Keiji was still uploading the second and third through his gray box to while going over the first one."

She sighed. "He got out of the Black Zone, and then ...was ambushed and killed when he got to our planned rendezvous at Brookson III. I barely escaped Earth alive – the minute he was ambushed, a kill-team of guys in black mil-spec armor and heavy weapons blew the shit out of my location, and by the time I made it to the spaceport the Commissars had announced I was wanted for high treason."

"I'd already set up my escape ship, but I'm paranoid, so I also had a backup. By the time I got to the hangars, the entire bay was stiff with Commissars and Guard of Iron types. I got to my secondary and managed to get out of Sol, but most of my bank accounts were cracked and drained, and our boltholes on almost a dozen worlds were taken out."

Harper puffed his cigarette thoughtfully. "And Mr. Okuda?"

Goto's face twisted. "Dead. Shot point blank and left for dead – right next to the body of Mr. Recondite, also shot in the head. Did a records trace on him – he was a mineral engineer until eight years back, then he just … disappeared. He had zero tech background – he was a driller for Ashland-Eldfell. Nothing made sense."

She gave a thin smile. "They had taken his gray-box, but it was encrypted with memories he and I shared, so whoever had it couldn't use it or find out what was on it. I knew from the parts he'd talked about that the first file had something to do with batarians, but that was it."

She looked at Shepard. "With no leads, I reached out to the Broker for help. In return for doing a bunch of jobs for him – mostly for free – he gave me what intel he could, and helped me find out who killed him. He was interested in buying the data, and more interested in who sponsored the run."

She glanced at Harper. "He told me that it was Cerberus who killed Keiji, to keep the data from getting out."

Harper lit a cigarette. "Or rather, framed us as being behind such acts. While I don't doubt Cerberus would have done such a thing, we were focused on other endeavors."

Goto nodded. "Long story short, I found out that Donovan Hock had his gray-box. Hock was a slimy businessman with his hands in a lot of merc companies and shady wet work groups, as well as working with Aria and her people. Hock got the gray-box off of some other group – the ones who killed Keiji – since Hock had access to some heavy hardware for cracking encryption. Some things we found at his party suggested whoever hired him to crack the gray-box wasn't human, but he didn't leave details."

She sighed. "I'm not sure who told him, but Hock eventually figured out that the gray-box couldn't be read without my own gray-box, so he framed me and my partner Ghost-step for the hack. The Broker agreed to help me get it back, but stopped helping me when I decided not to try and kill some people on Earth for him."

Goto glanced at the gray-box. "The rest, well. Eventually, I figured out Cerberus didn't have anything to do with Keiji's death. I made some discreet inquiries, and Cerberus stopped a kill-team of Broker agents from taking me out. We went in after the gray-box..." She traced a finger over it. "...which is all I have to remember Keiji by. But I don't know what to do with what he found out."

She looked up, across the faced. "I reviewed all three files on the way here. And while I don't know who was behind this hack, I do know why they wanted the data. What Keiji found is enough to cause the Alliance to completely collapse, to spark off wars between Citadel races, and to make the Citadel invade the Batarian Empire. In short, complete societal collapse and all out war."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "If the stuff is that sensitive, then why the hell are you even alive?"

Goto shrugged. "I don't think the AIS – or the Commissars – knew what exactly we took. If they did, the Alliance would have blown up Bekenstein to stop this from getting out."

Shepard leaned forward. "What is on the gray-box?"

Goto met her gaze. "Three large files. Each file had video components as well as supplementary data. The first was the report of a deep AIS strike against the Batarians. The Batarian Empire found what Trellani-sama has now told me was the corpse of a Reaper. They took possession of it, and transported it to Khar'shan."

Shepard cursed. "A complete Reaper wreck, wonderful."

Harper's eyes narrowed. "That would be very dangerous if it got out. I presume the file has more?"

Goto nodded. "Lots of plans and operational details about how the AIS planned to go in and take it from the Batarians, along with ways to keep the Citadel Council from finding out about it. This file was dated almost a year BEFORE Eden Prime, though, so no one knew it was a Reaper back then."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "While certainly significant, I don't see why it would cause huge issues."

The thief smiled weakly. "The video portion showed the Emperor discussing various options for researching it...including inviting Aria's people in to take a look. Imagine her fleet with any sort of Reaper technology."

Shepard winced, while Harper nodded. "The Council would react harshly to any signs of a real alliance between Aria and the Batarian Emperor – and letting Aria have Reaper technology is a bad idea. I'm more intrigued by the concept of what killed said Reaper in the first place."

Goto sighed. "The second file was related to a project called NOVENSILES. It was flagged as 'Trigger Justification'. It was something P. sold the AIS, apparently – a meeting between the some salarians and asari, talking about humans."

Shepard leaned forward. "A meeting?"

The thief nodded, tapping her omni-tool. "This one is cleaned up enough I can actually show you." The holoprojector hooked to the gray-box lit up, and grainy haptic images appeared above the table.

On the left was a salarian dalatrass, in the ritual purple-blue robes with red trim. Doctor Solus made a small sound of distress. "Sister."

Harper explained, "Muvai Solus, Dalatrass of the Solus Family." The doctor glanced at him briefly , then looked at the other person in the image.

Trellani's voice was like ice. "And Matriarch Thessial of Clan Steelshape."

Thessial, a thin, almost hard-faced asari, was pacing back and forth. "This won't work the way you think it will, Muvai."

The salarian dalatrass sat in a chair next to a curved metal table. Little was visible of the background except a wide armaglass portal showing the skyline of Surkean, a city on Sur'kesh. "Nonsense. Plan viable, with some correction. Already have buy-in from Anoleis. Can keep out of sight, no direct connections to you or I."

Thessial turned to face her. "You're talking about me turning against the Thirty." She ran her hand over her crest. "I grasp the need for it, but it is still too dangerous."

Muvai's expression narrowed. "You saw projections. No good viable outcomes. Asari plan to subsume humanity will tip scales – the SIX will react. Pathogens already being tested on human slaves. Lethality rates higher than 95%."

Thessial shuddered. "And you think this plan will change that?"

Muvai nodded. "SIX will react based on relative power. Change power baseline, change reaction. Killing off humanity last, worst option – but SIX will do it. If project succeeds, salarian power eclipses asari power. Human integration not speedy enough to tip scales – Thirty thrown down."

Thessial sighed. "Either way will lead to open war."

Muvai shrugged. "True. SIX also considering pathogen to work on asari. Trigger widespread expression of ardat-yakshi gene sequence malform. Being developed by 'rogue' salarians in human space. Will turn Thirty against humans, cripple you all."

Thessial whirled. "And you went along with this?"

Muvai sighed. "No. But out-voted. SIX focused on Makana, Alteration Framework. Thus...either change parameters of game..or change game. Your choice. Need your help. With this...salarians powerful, asari get to take over humanity, no mass epidemics. Without..." She made a tipping gesture with her hands, and Thessial shuddered again."

The video clipped off, and Shepard sat back in her chair, stunned. "...Doctor Solus..."

The salarian looked beyond agitated, eyes wide, hands shaking. "...no. Cannot be accurate."

Trellani's voice was gentle. "I strongly doubt it is fake. We have our own … sources that have heard hints of projects the Union is planning to use against humans. No proof, but hints."

Shepard looked at Jack Harper. "So, what is this 'Alteration Framework'? Do we know?"

The Illusive Man steepled his fingers. "So far, we only have bits and pieces. It is some sort of transmortal genetic advancement project – like a more advanced version of NOVENSILES, I think. The ultimate goal seems to be correcting any flaws in the salarian genome and adding new abilities. We don't have the kind of penetration needed into the STG to determine anything else."

Mordin had calmed himself, and stared hard at Harper. "My sister would do anything to protect Salarian Union. Has already done experiments. Aware of Alteration Framework. Surmise is mostly correct...no details were given, but I was to come home. To work on it. Told it would transform salarian people entirely."

He tapped his fingers on the table. "But other project – no details, no hints of what it is – not Alteration Framework, so something else."

Trellani's eyes narrowed. "Something that would risk turning the Clans away from the Thirty. That would throw the Asari Republic into chaos. Pity there are no details, but even the conversation is damning enough."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "It does look pretty bad. Doctor Solus, not to pry, but do you know of anything that could be the project they are talking about?"

There was an edge of anger in the old salarian's voice. "No. Removed myself from STG, from family business. From Union entirely. Have done things I regret. Choices mine, outcomes mine. Had to take a stand somewhere. Reaper threat more important than salarian and asari competition." The doctor glanced down at the table. "Still, did not know SIX would go so far as to poison humans, asari."

Harper grimaced. "This file alone could cause the entire Council to collapse. However, it is also a powerful tool for bringing the salarians to heel. I'm not above blackmailing them with it to gain their cooperation."

Shepard sighed, but it was Trellani who spoke next. "You said there were three file groupings...what was the third?"

Goto shivered. "The worst. It was Jacen Manswell's journal entries just before he killed himself."

Shepard frowned. "Those were made public."

Goto shook her head. "No – those entries were complete forgeries." She swallowed. "The real ones … he had been putting together things, doing research on the Days of Iron. And he discovered that Victor Manswell … was the primary backer and provided the finances to Emperor Ardiente."

The room was absolutely silent as Kasumi continued. "Victor used shell companies to move scientists he would need later on out of areas of conflict. He funded the extremists in the Middle East, Europe, China and America to start problems. He convinced the Japanese keibatsu to back Ardiente in secret, and ... he gave Ardiente the research to produce the Bowls of Wrath."

Shepard found herself voiceless as the thief continued to speak. "He built the Zurich station because he knew what was coming...he planned it. The Chu destabilized China by having most of the Politburo killed, the Coleman family did the same in America to weaken it. He bought up big plots of land in out of the way places and had built up bases and supply depots two years before Ardiente started his attack."

Her voice hardened. "Victor's hackers made the situation worse during the fighting, and his people were the ones responsible for the backpack nuclear weapons. He set it all up...and then went around collecting the pieces he'd already put into place, making himself out as a heroic savior."

Harper leaned back in his chair, face troubled. "...why in the name of God did the Alliance not destroy this document?"

Goto sighed. "I have no idea. I don't think they knew it was on the system at all, myself. If they had known, I can't imagine I'd be alive, or that they wouldn't have destroyed Bekenstein to get at the data and stop its release."

Shepard shook her head. "Victor Manswell killed billions of people, just so he could take over the world?" She realized she was trembling, and wanted to scream at the sheer evil of it all.

Harper's voice sounded old, and almost tired. "The High Lords have to be removed. But this...if this got out, the Alliance would collapse."

Miranda grimaced. "There would be riots. I do not even know how the Commissars would react - the leadership has its conditioning removed after all. Even if they supported the High Lords, they cannot suppress the riots that would break out. The colonies would rebel...the Fleet itself might rebel!"

Shepard looked up. "If the High Lords edited Jacen Manswell's suicide notes, and his journals – that means they knew the truth. The bastards knew and kept it quiet and blamed the Fall on 'corrupt governments' and the people."

Trellani's voice was solemn. "From their point of view, no doubt they felt they had no choice but to hide the truth. Yet, is this also not a method we could use to bring the Alliance – or at least the High Lords – to heel, if they oppose Shepard?"

Harper laughed hollowly. "Perhaps. I …" For once, the Illusive Man had no words.